Sinking in Sicily & Fractured Foot

• Lori Palminteri
• Uncategorized
• May 29, 2025

Part I: The Flood 

When I decided I was going to go to Italy, Sicily was one of the top places I wanted to see, since the Palminteri’s are fully Sicilian. And when it came to be that I would be doing the trip solo, I decided I wanted to see, for the most part, less popular places. A lot of the places I want to visit in Italy I am waiting on a travel partner for (I’ll probably go to Italy with my parents, and I’m just as happy traveling with them since I think of them every moment in Sicily). Originally, I was going to spend a full two weeks in Sicily, making my way around the island, staying a few nights in each part. But then I decided I really, really, really wanted to go to Malta, which isn’t a far (nor expensive) ferry ride from southern Sicily. Then, from there, I decided it wasn’t that far to go to Sardinia. And finally, I’d return home from Rome.

Because I also wanted to spend a lot of time swimming in the Mediterranean, which I’ve never actually done (any time I’ve been to the Mediterranean it wasn’t warm enough to swim), I decided to stay in Syracuse. Syracuse is almost as much Greek as it is Italian. It has the oldest ruins. Older than anything in Greece. It is also surprisingly affordable, though I realize that living in New York City gives me a weighted look on “affordability.” Unfortunately, I won’t make it to Northern Sicily (where the Palminteri’s are from) this trip, because the logistics was just too much traveling and I really like to explore and wander places for the full experience.

Flying from New York at 4:30pm to Italy means I landed around 7:00am, their time the following day (Saturday into Sunday). I had previously set up a car to pick me up, as I do get some anxiety being in airports where they don’t speak English. Honestly, in retrospect, I could have managed it, but it was also really nice to have a guy holding up a sign with my name on it. I’m so used to jumping in and out of cabs in New York, usually someone is beeping at you— hell, I’ve had cabs start to take off while I was still getting out of the vehicle. So I wasn’t really used to a gentleman insisting he help me every step of the way, offering his hand and such. “You are in Italy now, we strive for elegance,” my driver said. And truthfully, I don’t think I’ve been to a country with nicer people. The Italians really are warm and comforting. The only place I’ve been where the people were just as nice was Iceland. But also the Icelandic people all seemed to be a little autistic to me, though that could just be because of the language. Also, they probably said the same thing about me.

Anyway. Whenever I stay abroad, I book through booking.com, and I’ve always had great success picking lesser expensive boutique hotels that are very clean. The hotel I booked had excellent ratings. The manager let me stow my luggage since I was there at like 8:30am, and would have the room ready around noon. Her English was decent, and she was soft spoken and stunning beautiful with dark hair and hazel eyes. The hotel was in a great location, and the room was spacious and pristine. I ditched my luggage and I went about exploring the city.

European cities are so much fun to get lost in. Syracuse/Ortigia is in the southeast part of Sicily. Old architecture on cliffs over the clear blue Mediterranean. Late May is a good time of year to go to Italy, because the weather is only just starting to get hot and it’s “off season” tourist wise. In a few weeks, tourists will flood this city to swim and get relief from the heat. I love to walk all about scenic places (in Paris I had walked 10-15 miles a day, and planned to do the same here). This place looked like it belonged in a James Bond movie. I could imagine a fast car race along the shore.

I spent the day getting my bearings and checking out ancient ruins, and, of course, eating. I packed it in early because I was tired from travel and passed out around 6pm, Italy time. Probably I should have forced myself to stay up later to reset my body clock, but drinking a half bottle of wine at dinner didn’t do my exhaustion any favors. Around 2am, I woke up, rather alert, since I had slept eight hours, and was texting folks from home since they are six hours behind. Suddenly, I heard water running, like the shower was on. In the bathroom, the hot water heater on the wall (this is common in Europe) was leaking… a lot. I switched on an off every switch I could find. I tried running the shower to see if the water would stop (it didn’t). I looked for valves on the water heater, under the toilet and sink, and there were no valves (later, I’d learn, there is one valve for the building which is insane, but the infrastructure in Europe is extremely old).

(That was my patch job which sort of helped?)

I used my garbage pail to collect water, but it was filling up fast and almost 30% of the leak missed the pail. There was a first aid kit was some gauze and medical tape. I attempted to tape up something in order to streamline the water into the bucket compared to the sprinkler effect that was happening. The situation wasn’t looking good. I’m texting my dad and some friends, like “what the fuck do I do.” My one friend was like, “just leave and find a Marriott.”

The bathroom was flooding and starting to seep into the room. My towels were inefficient to soaking up the water. I eventually stripped the bed and used the sheets to try to block the water from going into the hall (it didn’t do much). I texted the manager that there was a serious leak and the room was flooding, including pictures. It was 3am at this point. She said she didn’t know what to do, and would show up in the morning with a technician. Maybe America is the greatest country on Earth, you guys. I think Americans who hate on America have to rethink how spoiled we are and that being spoiled is kind of great.

(I’m unsure you can tell by the picture but there’s a solid centimeter of water covering the floor in the bedroom from the bathroom.)

Now, I had a solid three hours until help would arrive. There was a vase in the hallway with a fake plant in it. I removed the fake plant and put that under the leak. I then also found an umbrella holder outside and added that to the collection. Like Mickey Mouse from “The Sorcerer’s Apprentice” in “Fantasia,” I was just emptying buckets of water down the toilet bowl.

(Buckets upon buckets.)

My bags were repacked and elevated. Worried about being electrocuted, I unplugged the mini fridge. Checking online, there were no other rooms available in this hotel, so I went ahead and booked a different hotel with hope I’d get a full refund on this place. One my best friends and comic, Dennis Rooney, said, “Lori… you have to go full white woman on this. You need to get all your money back.”

There was half a bottle of wine left in the fridge from dinner. Even though it was 3:30 in the morning, I was drinking wine, sitting on the bed, watching the water rise, feeling like that couple in the movie “Titanic” that just decided to die in bed. Except I was alone. And also, I wasn’t going to drown. So that’s a plus.

(Cheers!)

Around 6:30am the manager shows up with the technician. She seemed shocked about all the water in the hallway even though I literally told her and sent her pictures. There was no exaggeration. If anything, I played the situation extremely cool and had I not spent hours dumping water, it would have been way worse. I nearly laughed when she opened the supply closet and only had this tiny mop and one not even full sized towel. The technician said the unit was broken and needed to be completely replaced (not a shocker). The manager apologized up and down. I told her I booked another hotel and she said I could come back (I was not coming back). I had to make a refund request through booking.com. I got the money back from the canceled nights but I’m still waiting on the night I was there, which they really should refund me. I do think it’s an overall nice place to stay and that it was just bad luck.

But the new hotel I booked was much nicer. Called “Henry’s House.” It included an amazing breakfast with this beautiful terrace and they gave you a welcome drink and a bottle of wine. I would one hundred percent recommend this hotel. It’s the best hotel I’ve stayed in any place in Europe. It’s so beautiful and the staff is so accommodating. Once again, I had to leave my luggage with the hotel as it was like 7am, and go about the city and return later. I told the tale of my flooding room, and later, one of the staff members told me he saw a truck pumping water out the second floor (these hotels are on the same block). Yup. That was my room.

(Delightful breakfast with a view at Henry House.)

Syracuse is lovely, and the food is second to none. Because I had hours before I could officially check in, I think I hit every museum and exhibit. Though not as warm as the waters in Hawaii, the sea is just as clear. Some of the clearest water I’ve ever swam in. Swimming way out, I hoped to see an Octopus or find treasure… but the experience was rewarding enough.

(Ironically standing on my left foot with weight off my right food in this foreshadowing illusion picture.)

Despite being up since 2am, I forced myself to stay awake till 9pm. Then I passed the fuck out. In the morning, as I ate breakfast with a heavenly view, I felt good about my hotel switch. Oh well. The worst of the trip is over… or so I’d thought…

Tuesday, I did a half day boat trip. There were six other passengers. A couple my age from Seattle. Two young fresh out of college girls. And a middle aged couple from England. The trip included checking out sea caves. Two spots to anchor and swim. Lunch. And unlimited wine. We all took full advantage. The younger girls and me swam way out to these rock structures to jump off them. And everyone drank a lot. We had a lot of laughs. It was a tremendous day.

(An abandoned house with a pool that fell into the sea.)

Wednesday is my last full day in Sicily, as I would leave for Malta Thursday. And I also have to work on Thursday. There is this secluded beach I wanted to explore, about 20 minutes away, so I took an Uber there. You do have to climb over volcanic rocks to get to it, which I usually enjoy. The beach did not disappoint. There was no one else there. Just me! In the most beautiful beach I’d seen yet! Given how secluded it was, I stripped naked and skinny dipped. There are few things I love more than swimming naked, and if ever given the opportunity, I do it. At this moment, I was feeling rather lucky and blessed. Though my luck was about to change.

(I mean, c’mon.)

Walking along the rocky coast, I found another great spot to snorkel, with some caves along the shore. I did see some some people in the distance here so I didn’t get naked. There is no rip tide and there are no sharks or anything, so despite being all alone out there in the water, I felt comfortable. What a glorious place. There was one more spot I wanted to check out, and since I had the whole day to adventure, I made my way to it.

Unfortunately, I stepped on a faulty rock with my right foot, and my foot became wedged. Trying to catch myself from a fall, my stuck foot bent awkwardly and I heard an a “CRACK.” A flash of pain shoots through my foot. Uh oh. Assessing the damage, I quickly realized I couldn’t put pressure on the front of my foot at all without severe pain. I could walk on the heel still. At worst I broke my foot, I knew already. At best, it’s sprained. The pressure from my vans shoe hurt so I took it off. My foot was beginning to swell. It was a solid fifteen minute walk to the road where I could call an Uber. And that’s fifteen minutes of normal walking. Not limping. It took me longer.

When I made it to the road, I summoned an Uber back to the hotel. After showering and icing my foot, I knew I had to go to the hospital. The staff helped me out and warned me that Italian hospitals are very slow. So I read. Online it said you could be there for 4-8 hours. But I needed an x-ray. Off to the hospital I go.

Part II: The Hospital

The ER isn’t an ER by any American standard. It’s just a hallway with not enough chairs. The whole building made me feel like I traveled back in time to 1978. They handed me a paper and then told me to go to another part of the hospital. I’m wearing slippers from the hotel (couldn’t fit my foot back in my shoe) and leaning against a wall. I was not given a wheel chair. I then had to walk to another part of the hospital. When I got there, it’s just a hallway and a bunch of people are waiting. There are no available seats, so I sit on the floor. Eventually, this nurse comes out of the locked room and collects our papers. This woman who was there with her young daughter who looked like she broke her finger used a translate app to tell me that they’d call you in and we just wait. There was another mother with a daughter with a foot injury. Another guy with a foot injury. Two old people, I’m unsure what their deal was. And a kid with a dislocated shoulder who was screaming in pain and he was taken first.

(lol, this is a real hospital room in 2025. Stop romanticizing Europe’s healthcare system.)

After waiting there for about an hour, I was called in. The room was so dated, I’m pretty sure America had better hospitals in World War II. I’ve long wanted some sort of baseline universal healthcare in the States, but let me tell you… socialized medicine sucks. I told them what happened and they gave me another piece of paper and told me to go to another part of the hospital for an X-ray and then return here.

Again, I had to walk to another part of the hospital on a different floor. Did I mention how difficult it is to walk and that I’m in pain? The closest elevator is broken so I have to walk (hobble) further to the other elevator. I get to the new spot, hand my paper to someone and wait another hour for the x-ray. The woman whose daughter also had a foot injury just grabbed a wheel chair and then escorted me back to the other part of the hospital. It’s a free for all, I guess. Despite how awful this experience was, the Italian people really have been nothing but exceedingly kind, so I can’t emphasize enough how this kept me from losing my shit.

Waited another hour. So I’ve been here like four hours at this point. Not shockingly, I have a fracture. In America, we call it a pseudo Jones fracture or a dancers fracture. It is the most common foot fracture, caused from a weird ankle movement. Had I just taken the fall, I would have been scraped up but would have saved my foot. Stupid reflexes.

I was hoping for a boot. For sure I would turn down a cast. But they just wrapped it in this bandage and told me it would take a month to heal and to get over the counter pain killers. Damn. I wasn’t even getting good drugs. They didn’t give me crutches or a cane so I had to walk/limp out of the hospital again. I didn’t pay a dime as I’m completely unsure if I had to check out anywhere, or if they’ll send me a bill in the mail or if it’s just free. I mean, given the service, it really should be free.

(How am I supposed to sell feet pictures now!?)

For sure, I needed a cane. Also. I was going to need new shoes. My foot wasn’t going into my Vans before the bandage, it’s sure as shit not fitting into them now. There were two pharmacies in the area. I picked the closest one. Three minutes. I walk there. They have no canes. I bought extra gauze for rewrapping my foot and ibuprofen. I saw there was a medical shoe store about a seven minute walk. It took me twelve minutes to get there. One woman in a car offered to give me a ride (in Italian). I didn’t take it, but again, it speaks to the kindness of the people. This store had both canes and orthopedic shoes. What joy I felt! I got a cane, more wrap and new shoes. She told me they were men’s shoes but I didn’t care. They are big on me, but I need them a little bigger. Medical orthopedic shoes aren’t cheap and cost me over a hundred dollars.

Next stop is Malta. The main reason I want to go there is to swim. I’m pretty sure I can swim with my foot. Walking on sand is not advisable, but I can crawl. I will literally crawl into the sea. Maybe I’ll rent a Vespa in Malta and see the city that way (watch, I get hit by a car and then go to the Malta hospital). This injury hinders the trip, that’s for sure. I’m not in pain when laying down or sitting but walking hurts and I have to be careful. From everything I’ve read, it’s not a short recovery. I won’t be able to run for a month, at least. Damn it. This means my body won’t be in beach shape for summer! Gah!

There is a part of me that is very angry this happened (naturally), especially so early in the trip. And being alone makes it more challenging. I hate not being mobile. I hate not being able to walk fast. I hate the shooting pain when my right foot hits the ground. But, like my mom said, just change the pace of the trip. More relaxing. I have some a treatment to edit, a writing packet to work on, jokes to submit— so it may turn into more of a writing (and drinking) retreat than one with a lot of walking. What’s almost even more irritating, is I took an edible on that boat trip and drank a ton of wine and cliff jumped. And then I broke my foot completely sober. So there’s two lessons to learn here— avoid Italian hospitals and avoid sobriety. Vita vera, as the Italians say.