We get pretty attached to some of our accommodations on the trip, and our farmhouse near Siracusa was no exception. As the sun came up John had to snap some picture of our room — that’s the one with the open door —
and the view from our room.
We had another lovely breakfast and packed up. We had been adopted the last two days by Tobi, the owner’s dog, and I think he was sad to see us go. Of course, as a Basset and Beagle mix, he pretty much just looks sad all the time anyhow. It goes with the genetic territory.
Unfortunately, once again we suffered from some poor planning here. My plan for today was for us to explore the extensive Greek ruins in Siracusa. It never occurred to me until I was checking the opening hours that they would close for Mondays. I suppose I have to admire the fact that the Italians are not so wedded to making money that they are willing to shutter one of their premier tourist attractions at the height of high season.
So, instead we decided to explore the real Italy. We went to the nearby mall. John was NOT HAPPY that I had failed to pack a swim suit before we left Los Angeles. There were lots of them for sale on the street, but he did not particularly want me to walk around wearing bright green Speedos with a picture of the Tower of Pisa on the crotch. A good aesthetic call all around…. He figured that there would be some kind of Italian version of Big Five at a mall, and he was right. We found me a tasteful pair of classic red California style trunks. We also stopped at the local branch of Auchan, the French answer to Target, and picked up some groceries for quick lunches.
We drove for a couple hours north on some pretty decent motorway. We passed Catania and headed towards the south slope of Mount Etna. Our destination for the day was the small town of Trecastagni where I had booked us at the Villa Carmen. This inexpensive bed and breakfast has perhaps the best ratings I have ever seen on Booking.com or TripAdvisor. And once we were finally there, we figured out why. Our hosts, Carmen and Angelo, greeted us warmly. This is kind of an AirBnB kind of place. They welcome a few guests into their own house, and what were once bedrooms for the kids are now accommodations for guests from around the world. It has a homey feel to it.
And a great pool, too! After a long afternoon of driving, I was more than ready to lounge by the pool for a bit.
In the evening, John pushed for us to go to Catania. I had not read many interesting things about Sicily’s largest city, and when we were planning our trip I deliberately skipped it. Plus, I really hate driving the narrow streets of these “centri storici” or historic centers. But, as all of you know, I can seldom say no to John. So off we went. And I’m glad we did. Catania was a pleasant surprise.
The streets in the center are not quite as windy and narrow as most old Italian cities. And that is because Catania has been beat up a bit over the years. A massive eruption of Mount Etna in 1669 a destroyed the western part of the city, and the 1693 a earthquake destroyed what was still standing. As a result, the center is largely largely eighteenth century and features relatively straight streets. Notice how they used volcanic rock for paving the streets.
Once again, we succumbed to being the worst kind of tourists — and we’re not particularly sorry for it. There a phony train that runs through the center of Catania and we figured that this was the best way to get a feel for the town with a limited amount of time. It took a few minutes before the train took off. One of the local canines decided that this was a good place for a nap.
There is an obelisk celebrating Heliodorus, a Catanian who turned from the church to the dark arts. At one point, he supposedly used magic to turn himself into an elephant. I am not sure what it says to place a monument to an apostate directly across the plaza from the cathedral.
John and I took the very back seat in the train which allowed us to photograph the traffic behind us.
Catania does have an even more favored son than Heliodorus, the great opera composer Vincenzo Bellini.
For some odd reason why I was trying to snap a picture of the opera house here my iPhone switched it to black and white. I sort of think the picture looks like it came from an Rossellini film.
There is a large garden in the center of the city, and it seemed popular with “i giovanni,” the young people.
It was soon dark and I was ready to drive back to Trecastagni. Apart from a few wrong turns, we made it reasonably fast. When we arrived, our hosts were there to greet us with a shot of homemade alloro, a bright green liqueur made of laurel leaves.
Tomorrow we head up the volcano.
