Earlier this summer, I had the opportunity of embarking on a journey through the historic regions of Sicily and Calabria as part of my summer vacation. These two regions nestled in the south of Italy can be an exhilarating adventure for any intrepid traveler. The unique blend of rich history, picturesque towns, and stunning coastal views make these destinations irresistible to those seeking cultural immersion. However, for a Canadian traveler accustomed to well-organized road infrastructure, driving and walking through the meandering streets and scenic byways of Sicily and Calabria presented both challenging experiences and opportunities – and a run-in with law enforcement.

As a transportation professional, my journey to these southern Italian regions provided a valuable opportunity to witness firsthand the intricacies of their road networks and the cultural nuances that shape the driving behaviors of locals. While my aim was to appreciate the beauty of these regions, my professional lens was always on, prompting reflections on the differences and similarities in road infrastructure and driver behaviour between Canada and these Italian regions.

The roadways in Sicily and Calabria offered a striking contrast to the wide, meticulously marked roads of Canadian cities. Here, narrow streets wind through ancient towns, revealing the architecture and culture of centuries past. The challenge of driving through these charming yet narrow streets is not to be underestimated. The art of yielding and maneuvering through tight spaces was essential, especially when parking.

It was evident that these historical streets weren't designed with modern traffic in mind, and driving in these regions required a certain level of patience and adaptability and the shedding of the North American autocentric mentality. As a transportation professional I couldn't help but appreciate the secondary status vehicles were given in some areas.

Conversely, Sicily and Calabria also boast a network of modern highways that were easy to navigate. The default speed limit on these highways is 130 km/h, which is high considering all we know about the fatality rates of high speeds. However, in sections where the speed limit dropped, automated speed enforcement was prevalent even if not apparent. Many travellers report receiving tickets in the mail months later as the cameras were nowhere in sight. Thankfully, I have yet to receive such a ticket.

One of the most fascinating aspects of driving in Sicily and Calabria was observing the driving habits of the locals. The Italian style of driving is often characterized by a mix of confidence, assertiveness, and a unique interpretation of road rules. While this initially appeared chaotic as a foreigner, there was an underlying rhythm that locals effortlessly synchronized with. I was intrigued by the interplay between these behaviors and the seemingly high tolerance for risk. While some local practices might be unconventional from a Canadian perspective, it's crucial to acknowledge that these driving habits have evolved over generations and are deeply rooted in the cultural fabric of the regions.

The pedestrian experience is also worth highlighting. As a Canadian accustomed to dedicated crosswalks and pedestrian signals, I found the dynamic interplay between pedestrians and vehicles to be both fascinating and challenging. Local pedestrians displayed a remarkable confidence and adaptability while navigating the streets. Crossing roads often involved an unspoken understanding between pedestrians and drivers. Eye contact and subtle gestures seemed to guide the flow of traffic, demonstrating an inherent awareness of each other's presence. Although initially daunting, this organic interaction showcased the ability of pedestrians and drivers to harmoniously coexist through shared spaces.

A central feature of these regions is the Limited Traffic Zones (ZTLs). These zones, known as "Zona a Traffico Limitato" in Italian, are designated areas where access is restricted to authorized vehicles only. In the bustling historical centres of cities and towns like Palermo, Catania, and Tropea, ZTLs are a common sight. These areas are often full of pedestrians, historic buildings, and narrow streets that were never designed for the modern volume of vehicles. To preserve the cultural heritage and ensure the safety of pedestrians, ZTLs limit or eliminate the number of vehicles that can enter these areas. Some ZTLs operate for certain hours of the day, and adjusted based on the time of the year while others are 24/7.

Conversely, some ZTLs did not restrict the movement of e-scooters and mopeds, which proved to be a nuisance in some cities. For example, in Palermo it was almost impossible to walk through some of the car-free streets in peace without having to watch over my shoulder for someone recklessly zipping by. Yet in Catania, Sicily’s second largest city, this was not an issue.

While ZTLs might appear as a restriction to vehicular movement, they serve as a prime example of how traffic considerations do not diminish economic vitality. The presence of ZTLs encouraged many people, both locals and tourists, to shop, dine al fresco, or indulge in some gelato while wandering the streets all without having to worry about their safety. Furthermore, there was almost no noise pollution (or air pollution for that matter) in these areas. What was truly fascinating was the contrast between the ZTLs and the areas immediately surrounding them. Walking just one block over, the vibrancy of the streets almost instantly ceased to exist – especially in small and mid-sized towns.

As I sipped some Aperol Spritz on a street patio in a Palermo ZTL, I couldn’t help but wonder how car-free zones are massive, missed opportunities for Canadian municipalities. The same thought occurred to me in Catania while eating some arancini on a street in the city’s fish market, and again in Tropea while walking the streets on a hot afternoon with an ice cold Peroni in hand. The demand for such areas is so high that Canadians such as myself will travel halfway across the world to enjoy them. What if they were more widely available at home?

I can’t end this article without mentioning my run-in with law enforcement – known as the Carabinieri in Italy. The day I was scheduled to fly home, I was driving the tight, windy streets of rural Calabria one last time. Right as I was about to pull onto the highway onramp to get to the airport, I noticed some flashing lights behind me. This Carabinieri vehicle had been driving behind me for a few minutes and seemed to have had enough of my driving style. The officer approached my vehicle and started speaking to me in Italian – a language in which I was mostly acquainted with food-related words. Seeing the confusion in my eyes, he stopped and said “Inglese?” to which I responded “Si, Inglese!”. Realizing that my driving style could be explained by the fact that I was just a tourist, he threw his hands in the air, shook his head, and sent me on my way.

Travelling through Sicily and Calabria offered me a chance to immerse myself in the local culture and witness the intricacies of their road networks. As a transportation professional, the driving and pedestrian experiences were markedly different from those in Canada. I knew that upon my return I would miss the amazing food and wine. Yet what I missed most was the vibrancy of the car-free streets. My hope is that Canadian municipalities begin to realize this opportunity and give their citizens who can’t travel halfway across the world a taste of la dolce vita at home.