Siracusa part 1 (Europe 23 #6)

It was a bit like heaven will be for tired pilgrims to arrive at Casa Sofocle in Siracusa. Drained of adrenalin, grotty in clothes we had worn for two days, swaying slightly from the train movement and sweating in the relentless heat, we pulled up in the little Fiat Panda – mercifully right in front of our accommodation. I’m not strong on praying for parking spots, but it does feel like the angels have been working overtime! Parking seems to require constant miracles.

As Francesco and Donatello insisted on carrying our cases and started to show us round I felt almost teary because they were so welcoming. I had forgotten the detail of our booking and was surprised to see how spacious it is with four big rooms equipped with absolutely everything. Generosity plus.

And the kitchen is overflowing with food, the fridge full of cold drinks of every kind, a bowl overflowing with fruit and the table set for us to eat. What a lesson in hospitality! I think they took one look at us and made us their project. 

Messages every day, suggestions for outings and offers to help us get around. Just beautiful. The climax of this Sicilian welcome came when they dropped around a magnificent selection of local food, including the iconic arancini and cannoli. We invited them in for a glass of wine and had a funny conversation with the help of translation, which ended with us insisting that they stay with us when they manage their dream of going to Australia. 

These interactions are precious and much more important than seeing yet another tourist site. And we are rolling in goodies now!

Siracusa is seeped with history – a history so layered and complicated that not even locals know it all. A 2,700 year old city, it is renowned for its ancient ruins, multiple invasions, Greek and Roman history, culture and architecture and as the birthplace of Archimedes. Where to start?

Our impressions of Sicily are that it has so much that is precious, yet is run down and crumbling in many places. While our little apartment is very nicely furnished, outside there is rubbish on the streets, broken pavements, holes in the road and very dodgy looking wiring overhead.

Yet there is charm in the old alleyways, precarious but pretty balconies and pots of succulents (especially the ubiquitous prickly pear) around every corner. In this burst of extended summer, the streets are lined with flourishing oleanders and bougainvilleas of every shade of pink and purple.

A big walking circuit on the first day in the relentless rain failed to find any cafes or food shops, except an old lady selling her last homemade pastries ($7 and delicious) and an African grocery that had wigs in the window but yielded some UHT milk. We met two young men from Ghana and Nigeria, both without jobs, and one of them an engineer. There were, however, multiple handbag shops, and specialty baby wear shops. By the time we got home, we were sloshing through rivers of rainwater filled with rubbish.

We chose to locate ourselves in this big city close to several major cultural destinations, so while it was still raining we took in a couple of indoor attractions.

The church of Saint John the Baptist was built in the 14th century on top of another church built in the 4th century! The church and ruined remains are a popular wedding venue, but it has subterranean treasure which is great on a rainy day. 

I peered down the crumbling stone steps with no handrail and wondered what I was in for. I had just signed up for the catacombs tour! A vast maze of burial places dug into the rock underground was where the Christians were buried, as they could not be interred inside the city. We saw just a tiny corner of the caves, including the bishop’s tomb (people paid extra to be buried near him), family sites, and the always touching tiny cavities for babies. Tradition has it that it was also the spot where St Paul dropped in to preach when he was on his way from Malta to Rome (Acts 28:12).

We came out feeling reflective about the big questions of life, death and the march of time. I was grateful not to have met an early death and joined the departed hosts of souls by falling down the precarious steps and paths – another adventure notched up. The hard hat completed my sartorial choices for the day.

The Archaeological Museum is promoted as the most significant in Sicily and has a massive collection of artefacts from prehistoric times through the various ages, including beautiful Greek pottery. At present they have a special exhibition of coins and medals; one can hardly believe that the shiny gold and silver medallions with wonderful portraits on them go back to the the second, third or fourth century BC. Mind blowing. This whole area has given up masses of significant finds that have been well presented in the displays.

In fact, one guidebook described the museum as mind-numbing, and after a while, I agreed, because of the sheer number of exhibits and information. 

The sad thing is that the venue itself was a shambles of deteriorating structures. The whole place was leaking, with pink plastic bowls catching the drips and wet carpet everywhere. Half finished renovations, broken air conditioners, piles of rubble – just horrendous, considering the priceless collection inside. They need a LOT of money to fix it – apparently more than is paid by tourists to get in.

Just a reflection here that entrance prices to almost everything in Italy are very expensive, with no concessions for seniors. EU citizens get a discount and under 18s are free. I think the tourists are holding up the economy! €10-15 is common, which is AUD16-25 – each. Throw in a couple of drinks and cannoli and a euro to use the WC and that’s a big total for one day’s activity, before we start on meals.

Everyone who comes to Siracusa goes to the ancient island of Ortigia, the historical centre which is attached to the main city by two bridges. Gambling on the rain ceasing, which it did, we had our first foray, successfully navigating in the car and miraculously (again) finding a great parking spot. Peter is amazing to manoeuvre everything in reverse, including parking in tight spots with six manual gears. Hill start training is essential here.

What a treasure! It truly is a place to wander and enjoy. The sea breezes made the temperature perfect and the narrow lanes meant we could stay in the shade. The remains of the temple of Diana (the goddess, not the princess) and an elaborate fountain surrounded by healthy cycad trees are very photo-worthy and attract the selfie brigade, but we were happy to leave the crowds and upmarket shopping drag for the smaller lanes. Our fight with NAB was kind of resolved and our card finally gave us cash from the hole in the ancient wall..

It seems that people do live in this maze of narrow streets,which were quieter and mostly shady. I love the handmade tiles with house numbers and names on them and i am on the lookout to find one. We need to raise the bar in Hastings with a cool house tile, I reckon!

Lemons are a recurring theme, as in the whole of the south. The climate is perfect and you can buy anything from soap to Limoncello to gaudy clothes that would never be worn again.

We have learnt to combine morning tea with a loo stop, as cafes are the most likely places to find one. We are averaging a cannolo per day so far – the ricotta filling is not sweet and they are just delicious. Although we made it to our next stop, the cathedral, we gave in to the heat and how far we had to walk back. There would have to be a second visit to Ortigia. I was pretty stretched by the long hot return to the parking area, but so pleased that I can do things I could not a year ago, like walking 5km in the sun.

The first foray to a hill town was to Noto, one of the so-called Baroque towns rebuilt after the cataclysmic earthquake of 1694; it damaged the greater part of Sicily. I was tense as I gripped several devices and maps to navigate, but Peter drove like a champion and we somehow parked at the top of the town, just above the Duomo. 

As we clambered down the dizzyingly steep stone steps, I could only wonder how we would climb back up! Cooled by a pleasant breeze, we took in the cathedral, a palazzo, a gelato kiosk, an outdoor pizzeria and an art gallery. The listed Caravaggio turned out to be ‘attributed’, but the pop art installation was brilliant and elicited a happy dance from my uninhibited husband, in honour of our littlest grandchild’s 7th birthday. Miss you Levi!

Then began the ascent. Just up, up and more up. I was aided by an undignified hoist on the back of my pants by someone I hoped was my husband, and we made it. Reunited with our little Panda, we began the torturous winding trip out of the town.

I only squealed a couple of times, and was grateful when Apple Maps unexpectedly started giving us voice directions. Otherwise I think we would still be going around the hill in circles.

I am going to post this as part 1 for Siracusa, or it will be too long. But before I finish, some random observations:

At least 95% people are wearing sneakers – designer or otherwise. 

The easily obtained food here is high carb – pizza, pasta, arancini, pastry snacks, biscuits, cannoli, cakes. We try to keep salad and fruit on hand to balance it out.

The local water tastes bad and reminds us of Adelaide in the old days!

Ambulances and fire trucks go past constantly with penetrating sirens.

Traffic rules are ‘just an idea’ and indicators rarely used, nor speed signs observed.

cars may not stop at pedestrian crossings, but screech to a halt for an elderly person with a walking stick.

Children are gorgeous all over the world and we delight in watching and hearing them.

Must be off and see some more ancient rocks.