If Italy is a boot, a soft lambskin hand stitched boot, Sicily is the deflated soccer ball that it is kicking. We left the rough port city of Naples on the rockin’ and rollin’ in our little bunks night ferry and arrived early the next morning in Catania. From there we drove south an hour or so along the coast to Siracusa, a place we chose on the advice of an Italian friend named Domitilla who we had met late one night in Barcelona, which is a long and completely different story but if you’re curious it’s here.
Creamy smooth marble on every surface
The old town of Ortigia is actually a little island just east of Siracusa that is connected by three small bridges. Sort of like Stanley Park is connected to Downtown Vancouver. Only there are no over smiling uber-healthy joggers wearing iPods or rollerbladers in yoga pants here. People here prefer coffee and cigarettes. The old town is a labyrinth of very narrow streets but with a different flavour somehow than mainland Italian towns. Honed marble seems to cover every surface and the result is a warm buttery glow in the late day sun. Not only the cathedral walls but many of the streets, sidewalks and piazzas are carpeted with thick honey coloured marble. Imagine the value in kitchen countertops alone? I was tempted to lie on the ground like a lizard to absorb the warmth. Each door is a work of art and every window seems to have a balcony with a wrought iron railing that supported by ornate stone balustrades and at least one pot of red geraniums. Continue Reading →
We had bluffed our way through a few weeks in Italy before we finally bought a guide book. We resist them for a few reasons:
a) they are heavy.
b) i don’t wont to go where everyone else goes and order food by pointing at faded pictures on laminated cards.
c) something deep in my ego figures we should be able to do this unaided. So wrong.
One day in Rome I was just tired of looking at astonishing buildings, fountains and ruins and not fully understanding what exactly made them so astonishing. I caved. While paying (way too much, that’s another reason) for the book I asked the woman at the desk where her favourite place in Italy was. She said “Venice.” Knowing we were travelling in the opposite direction I said…”what about south of here?” She didn’t hesitate for a second “then it’s Sicily…by far.” Very definitive statement. Continue Reading →
There are very few down sides to long term travel. One is lack of decent peanut butter and the other is that our daughter Lyla misses her friends more than Monica Lewinsky misses her privacy. Being eleven and hanging out with your parents, and only your parents, every waking and sleeping moment for seven months straight is awesome, right? My husband and I think of this journey as a rich interlude between the busy working chapters of our lives. A great big recess. She seems to think of it, occasionally, as way too long. There have been hundreds of conversations that begin with ‘When we get home…” So, to say we were all very excited when our dear friends “Family G” decided to travel the great distance to Italy for their Spring Break holiday would be an enormous understatement. We considered this a super-human effort on their part. Continue Reading →