Sicily

Sicily Walks #5

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It’s 9.15 am and I’m drinking a Sicilian Pale Ale in a bar in Palermo Airport. Our bags are checked through to Brisbane. I don’t particularly care where they go as long as they eventually find us at home because we have all of our important stuff with us including all the requisite boarding passes.

That’s the celebratory reason for the beer. The real reason is that we dropped off our hire car an hour ago and I bid a poison-spitting farewell to Italian roads and drivers. The 50 or so kilometres from our hotel to the airport this morning was supposed to be a breeze. It was a nightmare. When I checked Google Maps at 6.00am it was predicting a 43 minute trip. The bad news is that it took an hour and a half. The good news is that we didn’t hit anything and noone hit us. God knows how that happened. In the areas where the traffic was heaviest – the outskirts of Palermo city – the lines on the road became as rare as functioning car indicators and it became a free-for-all with lanes becoming multiple choice and when a huge truck decides it wants half of what appears to be your lane and half of the next one over, drivers scatter and aim for the nearest available space. The words of our Syracuse cab driver (see #4) were Nostradamus-like in their prophesy.

I was sweating bullets all the way to the airport, the child bride was finally able to relax in her seat when we got here instead of jumping about like she was constantly being cattle prodded and our travel companion, in the back seat, when not getting hit in the back of the head by a flying suitcase (hard breaking unavoidable) was grinding her teeth to the gums.

Notwithstanding the driving hysterics, we had a marvellous time in Sicily. It was the second series of White Lotus that originally got us thinking about coming here. We even went to where it was filmed – Taormina – which looked nothing like what we imagined from the series. Not to worry because we found plenty to gawk at everywhere we went, the food (with one notable exception) was great, the beer was cold and the wine went down far too easily.

Our trip into Palermo yesterday was by train. The previous night it cost 70 euros for a taxi, one-way for the 25 or so kilometres into town. On the train it was 3.3 euros each. To compensate for the much cheaper price, the ticket machine wouldn’t accept any of our credit or debit cards; only cash. As luck would have it, this was the only time on the whole trip when none of us had any. A very kind American couple gave us the 10 euros needed for three tickets. Lucky I was wearing my Tennessee Titans t-shirt which got the conversation with them started.

These old European cities are always just a corner away from something interesting, historic or both. Anywhere with lots of glass will be soulless and boring comparatively. So walking along the main street of Palermo (Via Roma, I believe) from the railway station, it was easy to find something to photograph which is the determining factor differentiating interesting from boring.

The trains, or at least the one we travelled on between Santa Flavia and Palermo, are clean, comfortable, fast and on time. My recommendation to anyone planning a vacation in Italy is to shelve the car hire plans and catch trains. Apart from the absence of stress, you get to enjoy the incredibly rugged and spectacular scenery (talking Sicily here), none of which I saw when for about 900 kilometres, all I focussed on was the lane marker (when there was one) staying in the bottom left-hand corner of the windscreen. Getting used to driving on the wrong side of the road and not knowing where the front right corner of the car is (get your designers onto that, Mercedes) made centring the car in its lane rather challenging initially as that guard rail in Taormina discovered. Fortunately we got there and here in the end. I just need to know now, how many fines I wracked up by blowing through toll gates.

Sicily Walks #3

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We travelled first class on the train down from Naples to Messina in Sicily. You’d expect that for the extra money you’d get a window to look out of. Apparently not as passengers in every second row found out. What we did get was a train that boarded a ferry and crossed over to Sicily from the Italian mainland. Now that’s pretty cool. Just think of the possibilities. You could access the Trans Siberian from Alaska. Sri Lanka from India, the Marrakesh Express from Gibraltar, the UK from France – oh that’s already available underground in both directions or by inflatable dinghy in one direction if you have no legal right to be in the UK. I believe I can be locked up for saying that now. What a retarded world we live in.

So the surly waiters in Naples have been left far behind to be replaced in Syracuse, by a delightful young lady (she’s Argentinian) and a robot called Lola which delivers food to tables, I believe. It’s brother Leonard, is required to deliver stuff to rooms. The CB asked for tissues and a shower gell top-up. Apparently Leonard deliverd these things but we didn’t know because he couldn’t knock. Apparently he just waited outside the door. Something is missing here.

Getting to Syracuse from Messina was interesting, says he with characteristic English (I was born there) understatement. The hire car guy never mentioned the toll gates. Solution – pick one that doesn’t have a boom and just drive through. Red light? What red light? And driving on the right-hand side of the road is one thing but doing it in Italy with Italian drivers all around makes it a potential demolition derby. I’ve also discovered that on the highways where the purely academic speed limit can be up to 130km/hr, actual drivers either dawdle or pretend they’re Top Guns in a land hugging missile.

Road maintenance appears to be conducted the same way wherever you are in the world. Barriers are erected for miles for no good reason apart from maybe slowing the traffic down -ha!. If Italy had speed cameras especially in tunnels where the speed limit routinely drops from 130 to 80, the national debt would be paid off in a month. Speaking of tunnel’s, Sicily doesn’t appear to do hills. If it goes up, put a tunnel through it and if it goes down put a bridge over it.  Sicilians prefer their roads flat it seems. This means that in a mountainous place like this the 400km+ journey we have just done from Syracuse to the Valley of Temples and back was about 75% bridges or tunnel’s.

And don’t ask me why it’s called the Valley of Temples because while the “temples” part is correct, it’s actually on a high ridge. Go figure. The Valley of Temples is Greek, dating back to 500 BC and if you’ve seen the Parthenon at the Acropolis in Athens, the one here is better preserved. Looks like it could have been thrown up last year provided there were a few thousand slaves available. As with the archeological park in Syracuse, Greek architecture, or its remains, is pervasive. The Romans kicked them out after a few hundred years and when they tried to utilise the Greek theatre for gladiatorial combat and especially fighting wild animals, found the ground level seats for dignitaries were a bit too close to the action so they built another one – completely enclosed and with the front row beyond the reach of a fully extended lion.

Sicily Walks #2

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Getting from Naples airport to our hotel was easier said than done. There were 6 of us with 6 suitcases and more than 6 assorted back-packs and other bags, most of which contained about 2 weeks of dirty washing. At least 2 cabs would be needed but then Enzo showed up with his tardis. How we all got in there with our bags reminded me of when I was 10 and our football coach got a whole 4 stone 7 pound (child footballers were weight limited back then) rugby league team, that’s 13 kids, into a VW Bug for the admittedly short trip to the ground where we were playing. Herbie would have been proud.

I got Enzo’s number and a few days later he excelled on our behalf again. We got him to take three of us round the Amalfi coast. Nothing funny happened but we were gobsmacked by the spectacular beauty everywhere and the English accents everywhere. The town of Amalfi was packed and the tourist season was winding down. I can’t imagine how many people are hit by cars in the high season, looking right instead of left.

Speaking of driving, you haven’t been tail-gated until you’ve been tail-gated by an Italian. You’ll be cruising along at 120km/hr in a 100km/hr zone when out of nowhere someone doing 150km/hr+ has pulled up a metre or so from your back bumper. And they’ll stay there until you get the f… out of the way.

Back to Naples and looking out of our first floor hotel room window you would have to conclude that Naples is a grubby, massively graffitied, crime ridden shithole. That’s a little unfair as parts of it aren’t entirely like that if the street sweeper has just gone through. There are parts that look unfinished, like a big part of Rome, but I think in this case it’s because they just couldn’t be bothered. When you have Pompei (167 acres and counting) and it’s little brother Herculaneum (20 acres) plus wine tasting on the slopes of Mt Versuvious, the Isle of Capri and the Amalfi Coast nearby, Naples itself doesn’t have to try too hard.

When the CB and I were in Rome some years back we heard that all attempts to dig a subway system failed because they kept digging up antiques. Similarly, Herculaneum’s 20 acres is only a fraction of its pre 79AD area but most of it is under the modern town 60 feet above. If you want to put a subway anywhere in Italy, you’d have to do it where noone lives or has lived which kind of defeats the purpose.

Sicily Walks #1

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The Sicily Walk is beginning in Naples which I guess is rather silly and therefore appropriate in itself.

Rather less silly, let’s start at the beginning. We lobbed into Naples and immediately encountered a problem – one of us left a bag in the customs area and we were all outside. That is, we had entered Italy but one of the bags was not quite in Italy. So I and the owner of the bag had to figure out how to get back into customs to retrieve the bag. First problem – the doors only open from the inside so we had to wait until someone came out then we ducked in. Not very legal and we were immediately nabbed by the constabulary. After explaining the situation I was told to stay put and my companion was taken off to retrieve the bag in question. All done and noone was arrested. Goodish start.

That’s actually the third time I’ve done something similar. Once in India, at the boarding gate I was told that my carry-on had to have a baggage tag for the security guy at the gate to stamp otherwise why do you need a security guy at the gate. The tags were available at the check-in counter so I confidently (this is important) strode back out through customs and immigration then strode confidently back inside having secured a tag from check-in, and noone batted an eyelid. Another time I was sitting on a plane at Rio de Janeiro airport one night, having officially left Brazil albeit still sitting on the Rio airport tarmac but after many hours the plane didn’t take off due to a technical snag or more pertinently due to the guy who was supposed to fix the snag not being available. So we were all marched back through a darkened terminal with nary a customs or immigration person in sight. We were accommodated in hotels then returned to the airport the next day. On explaining the situation to the check-in chick, we were directed to an unmarked door which magically allowed us to skip immigration and customs again, as we had skipped it coming back in and viola, we were out of Brazil again.

So I haven’t had a chance to put a coherent flowing Naples narrative down up to now because we’ve been having too much fun. So here are some random thoughts to begin with.

The CB and I were in Nepal (that’s not a typo) a few years ago, just after the covid gates were slightly cracked open, and on the bus trip from the Katmandu airport terminal to the plane I was offered a seat by a young Asian lady. I didn’t know whether to be grateful or offended. Something similar happened again a few days back. We were in Pompei. The old Roman roads there are about 40-50cm below the narrow footpath so I was waiting to step up from the road onto the footpath as a stream of tourists went past. One of them, again a rather attractive young woman stopped and asked me if I needed a hand getting up onto the footpath. It was a warm day and we had done quite a bit of walking so I probably looked a bit frazzled…..but really. I think I’m doing okay for my age – won’t be climbing Everest anytime soon but still more than capable of doing…..this and that. But apparently I look pathetically hopeless and helpless to attractive young women. If I could produce that look on demand it’s a skill that could prove useful in another life in a parallel universe, but not now.

Never take short-cuts you haven’t first tested yourself. The CB and I and one of our mates decided to visit the Naples Archeological Museum which is 1.9km from our hotel and a 27 minute walk according to Google maps. After an hour of our unintended Naples walking tour we were 13 minutes away – half way – yea! And isn’t that railway line supposed to be on our right and not on our left?

We got there eventually and it was well worth it – it seemed like every statue and every fresco from Pompei and Herculaneum had been looted and deposited in the museum. One could assume the towns themselves are empty shells having been stripped bare. No, that is not the case and is a mightily unfair assumption because notwithstanding a lot of their stuff being removed, Pompei is now up there with my world highlights along with the Acropolis in Athens, the Valley of the Kings in Egypt, Niagara Falls, the Himalayas and that lap-dancing place in the Valley in Brisbane (speaking of stripped bare).