Travel Blog – 22nd May 2023

Having said goodbye to the high-altitude Taormina in the hills surrounding Mt Etna, we returned to sea level, driving south to the coastal town of Syracusa. A major powerhouse for the Greeks 2,700 years ago, it is the birthplace of Archimedes.

Two bridges lead from the city to an island jutting out from the coast called Ortigia. Ortigia, surrounded by sea walls, contains the old town. A series of tiny, cobble-stoned alleyways snake around the island, which are bustling with restaurants, cafes, boutique stores, gelateria’s, museums, etc. Our hotel was on the island and we crossed one of the bridges to enter the old town in the car. The GPS, who we have named Alfonso, let us down severely, leading us into a tiny little alleyway that was built for donkeys, not cars. We persevered through crowds of tourists yelling at us, the side mirrors barely clearing the shops and houses on both sides of the street. The road narrowed to such a degree that it was impossible to continue. Unfortunately, the only way out was to put the car in reverse and go back 200 metres to the last decent sized lane and then guess how to get to the hotel.

Eventually we made it to the hotel and checked in, happy to get out of Alfonso and leave him to the valet. We wasted no time and started exploring immediately. The island contains many interesting monuments, such as the fountain of Diana and the cathedral, which was built on a Greek temple that existed on the site since the 5th century BC. The columns from the original temple still exist inside the cathedral.

At the tip of the island is a fort called Castle Maniace, which was built by a Greek general in 1038. There are various rooms which were originally used to house canons on the lower floor. The roof was open, and an upper level contained a balcony overlooking the rooms. As we wandered through the lower floor, I looked up to the balcony to see a man standing on the upper level waiting for the rooms we were in to clear of people. He wanted to take a photograph of the lower floor without anyone in it and patiently waited for us to clear the area so that he could take the perfect shot. We wandered out of the area and eventually found our way onto the rooftop where he was standing. Unfortunately, more people must have followed us into the bottom level because the photographer still hadn’t taken his shot and continued to wait patiently for an opportunity. As I walked around the wall surrounding the balcony, I looked down, saw that the area was clear and thought “Oh great, now he can take his shot.” As I watched him, he raised his camera, then quickly lowered it again, a look of exasperation on his face. I looked back to see Carmel standing dead centre on the other side of the balcony, right in the middle of his shot. He waited with his camera poised for Carmel to move, but by the time she did, an entire group of school children ran into the rooms on the lower level. The lips of the poor photographer began to move furiously. I can’t read lips, but there were plenty of “f’s” involved, so I’m sure he was muttering something like “Oh, fudge”.

After the castle, Ian and I were keen to see a puppet museum. The girls were not interested in this, so the men forged on without them. Apparently, the puppeteer in Ortigia had been operating for many years until an earthquake destroyed his theatre. His pleas to the council to provide him with an alternative venue were ignored and eventually he passed away. Someone found his puppets and created a museum to display them. We paid our 3 euros each and went in to check it out. We immediately understood why the council hadn’t come to the party. The puppets looked like they had been made in the local day care centre, not quite up to kindergarten standard. There was a particularly creepy monkey that looked as though it had been crafted from roadkill. The puppeteer didn’t get his theatre because he was crap. Having wasted time and money on the puppet museum, we went to join the girls for our customary pre-dinner prosecco and Nero D’Avola, before heading to the hotel restaurant for dinner.

The next day we walked across the bridge into Syracuse to visit the archaeological park. The park contains the ruins of the ancient Greek civilisation and the Romans that followed it. It contains an amphitheatre, a limestone quarry and a Roman theatre. The performance area of the Roman theatre was originally waterproof, and they apparently used to channel water into it so that they could hold performances using boats to recreate sea battles.

That afternoon, back on the island of Ortigia, we wandered around the fresh food market and bought some pistachios, dates, dried figs and apricots from a street vendor. Perfect for munching on with our pre-dinner drinkies.

The following day was Saturday and we hopped back into Alfonso and drove 45 minutes to a town called Noto. For one weekend every year they have a flower festival and we had been lucky enough to be there on that weekend. We made it to the carpark where there were only 15 parking spaces left, so it was impeccably timed. Unfortunately, the weather was completely rubbish and it rained constantly for the entire time we were there. The poor people of Noto had to cover up some of their displays, but we were lucky enough to see the main display, which consisted of many recreations of movie posters made entirely from flower petals, seeds, rice, etc. There was no point sticking around in the rain, so we didn’t spend much time there, hopping back into Alfonso and driving back to our hotel, which we fortunately managed to do without driving down any donkey lanes.

It poured rain for the rest of the day and all through the night. Our hotel was right next to the sea wall and we watched the enormous waves crashing against the walls and up over them. The sea was angry that day, my friends.

The next morning, Carmel messaged us to say that their room had been flooded out by the rain. We had breakfast, had our showers and were getting ready to check out. Lidia was standing in the room in her bra and knickers, when the hotel concierge, Marcello, came bursting into our room. He looked at Lidia in shock and then hurriedly left, profusely muttering his apologies.

I went down to check out, expecting to pay for the meal on Friday night and the 30 euro per night parking for three nights. To my surprise, the red-faced Marcello exclaimed that there was nothing owing. Apparently, he had given us the meal for free due to the flooding issue in Carmel and Ian’s room and had even given them an additional free bottle of wine. As to the free parking? I can only assume that this was compensation for copping an eyeful of Lidia’s bongos and bloomers.