The train porter raps gently on our cabin door. “Buongiorno. Taormina, next stop. I crack the door open and he proffers my espresso, smiling. “Prego.”
We’ve taken the overnight train from Naples to Sicily – yes the last remaining train in Europe that actually rolls onto a ferry. The 6:45 am wakeup call is right on schedule and I feel a frisson of excitement.
How delightful it all is! Pressed sheets, room service and now sipping my thimble-sized espresso, Mount Etna is welcoming us to Sicily. A long, grey-ish plume is trailing out to sea in the blue morning sky. Etna had recently erupted and more bursts of activity will soon disrupt flights while we’re on the island. Yet this morning, on our first trip to Sicily, she’s rather captivating.
Taormina
The train station at Taormina is a neo-Gothic beauty, complete with stained glass windows, ornate roof fringes, and dark Sicilian wood furniture. It transports you to another time, one of slow travel and prolonged sojourns. Our stay will be three nights, kicking off this two-week Sicilian adventure. Situated along the sea, it is still four kilometres to the hilltop town centre. Perhaps I’m already in love with this town after seeing it featured in The White Lotus series and the winding road ascending to town surely holds the promise of something special.
The Taormina Park Hotel is the essence of faded glory yet the swimming pool and the views are stunning – a broad vista unfolds under Etna’s watchful eye. One of four active volcanoes in Italy, Etna’s constant state of activity renders the land around it exceptionally fertile. Vineyards and orchards sprawl across the lower slopes, even a ski hill on its upper reaches. Yet having walked the plains around Mount Vesuvius – and the once ash-buried streets of Pompeii – I’m amazed at how many communities are nestled under Etna’s volatile caldera.
Taormina is what you might hope it to be. The views from belvederes are magical, sweeping out across the Ionian Sea. Smatterings of bougainvillea draped walls, tall palms, cook pines and luscious flowers are everywhere. The long Corso Umberto is bookended by the Porta Catania in the south and the Palazzo Corvaja at the center of it all. This busy street is fringed with cafes and high-end stores, becoming a vibrant runway for summer dresses and linen suits during the evening passeggiata.
There’s a distinct vibe to Taormina. Is it partly due to the teste di moro? These ceramic art pieces are nestled everywhere; on balconies, in windows, in storefronts and bars. The folk legends of their origin are evocative, all set around the 11th century during the brief Arab rule. One legend in particular captures my imagination. A Sicilian woman tending plants on her balcony, is seduced by a Moorish merchant and a passionate romance ensues. Learning the painful truth that the man is already married prompts the woman to cut off her lover’s head. Turning the severed head into a plant pot, it turns out that basil grows lush and fragrant from the tears she sheds. Locals artisans down the ages are inspired to craft ceramic pots shaped in complimentary ‘his’ and ‘hers’. I marvel at the bold colours and intricate flourishes and become slightly smitten by them. Legend aside, today they are a proud, delightful symbols of Sicilian culture.
Strolling, swimming in the stunning bay at Isola Bella and of course sampling Etna wine are all on the agenda. And by chance, we’re able to play tennis on the clay courts of the Taormina Sporting Club, a charming oasis in the heart of the old town. Yet the main attraction is the impressive Teatro Antico di Taormina, commanding stunning views to Etna and the Ionian Sea.
The story of ‘rediscovery’ and preservation of the theatre during the Grand Tour years is intriguing. I’ve always been fascinated and perhaps a little envious of the Grand Tour crowd… think Room With a View. The tour was a journey of discovery and beauty, an immersion in classical art, historical landscapes and continental culture. Admittedly, my story of coming to Italy for the first time at 17 was an education in itself and though not as long nor extravagant as the Grand Tour, the discovery of this ancient land captivated me and inspired me to travel. The Grand Tour was often the final stamp on the education of the privileged through the 19th and 20th centuries and Sicily was often the last stop on the travellers two or three month tour. Taormina with its ancient theatre became instant videndae, must-sees, after travellers reports and printed illustrations were published. Indeed, this was the start of cultural tourism, partly thanks to the growing passion for antiquity and archaeological sites.
Built in the 3rd Century BC by the Greeks, and further aggrandised under Roman rule by order of Hadrian, the theatre held 10,000 spectators. In 1788, German writer Wolfgang von Goethe witnessed a performance. He marvelled at the unmatched panoramic view of nature and the backdrop of Etna, smouldering behind the stage. More publicity, greater curiosity, more travellers precipitated the beginnings of archaeological protection, starting with the theatre, then the city itself, even to protecting millennial chestnut trees on Mount Etna.
On our last evening stroll, happenstance leads us to something most magical. Reluctant to leave a single street undiscovered, we come across a nymphaeum tucked away down a back stairway. Once thought to be an enclave for mock naval battles, modern archaeologists now agree that it was a grand public fountain, a water circus dedicated to nature’s spirits. The long stone wall and niches (their statues long missing) from 2nd century AD is symmetrical, styled in the Greek manner, despite the Roman origin. A haven for mythical nymphs – beautiful maidens – who personified water, trees and mountains. In the evening moonlight it is breathtaking, another archive of Taormina’s fascinating history. Almost 600 years before this nymphaeum was built, the people of Tauromenion welcomed refugees from the Greek colony of Naxos, who allied with Athens had been defeated by mighty Syracuse. And that’s our next stop, onwards to Syracusa.
Syracusa ~ Ortigia ~ Noto
The great general, Nicias briefed the Athenian assembly that there were seven Sicilian cites equipped just like Athens. The year was 415 BC. Much later, around 40 BC, the great Roman statesman Cicero commented, ‘You have always heard it said that Siracusa is the greatest and the most beautiful of all Greek cities, it is indeed as they say.’
Cicero also noted its well-protected position on the Ionian Sea and now, standing in the great Neapolis Park, I try to envision the enormity of constructing this ancient theatre… one of the largest and most famous in the ancient world. Built in the 5th C. BC and rebuilt in the 3rd, this Unesco World Heritage Site is one of the reasons people visit Syracusa on the south eastern coast of Sicily. Its story is written in the layers of cultural influence, from the Sicils, Greeks, Romans, Byzantines, Arabs, Normans and Spaniards. The island has always been coveted, yet Sicily did not become part of Italy until 1861 and many Sicilians still claim their island heritage before Italian.
I read that in the ancient Greek world, the massive theatre, holding 15,000 citizens, wasn’t solely for plays or entertainment, but was also a place for religious rituals and public assemblies. It was the beating heart of the community, yet curiously the upper gallery was fringed with mausoleums of the wealthy. A counterpoint to the Greek theatre is the nearby Roman Amphitheater home to gory gladiatorial spectacles. Similar to the Colosseum in Rome, it was one of the grandest in the Mediterranean. As interesting as they are, nearby Paradise Quarry is incredible to see. Providing the stone for the theatres and the neapolis (new city), standing inside its cool enormous caverns is breathtaking. Naturally, I’m enchanted by the lush, extensive garden that now populates and softens the once stark lines of the quarry. Wild capers drape from the walls, orange and lemon trees transform it into the paradise that it now is.
Long before preservation of antiquities became popular, the fate of many ancient structures was to have their limestone blocks appropriated, stripped for projects of the time such as fortifying the ancient seawalls of Ortigia. This small island is the historical heart of Syracusa, first settled by the Sicels, before the Greek colonists arrived. So yes, the Neapolis built in early BC’s was the new city. It’s quite simply mind-boggling.
Our B&B is on a typical narrow street, barely wider than my arm’s length. Quaint balconies, potted palms, dozing neighbourhood cats and striped sun shades. Turning one way takes us to the sea, turning the other leads us through a labyrinth of antique streets, converging on the spectacular Duomo di Syracusa. Built directly over and fused into the ancient Greek Temple of Athena, it anchors the grand piazza, a resplendent emblem of the layered history, 3000 years in the making. At sunset, golden rays dance in the sky, upon the limestone, filling my traveller’s soul… Sicily continues to astound me.
A day trip to Noto is a must from Sryracusa – a mere 30 minutes by train – and a good excuse to sample the renowned granita at the esteemed Cafe Sicilia. This historic cafe was featured on Netflix’s Chef’s Table. Unfortunately, the signature speciality granita di mandorla – almond granita – isn’t available so we sample other flavours; fig and chili is the winner. Granita is a refreshing Sicilian desert, somewhere between sorbet and ice cream and one of the island’s many specialties.
In Noto, the impressive Baroque buildings and ornate balconies gracing grandiose palazzos are its true speciality. After a devastating earthquake in 1693 destroyed the old town, Noto was rebuilt using golden-hued limestone. The elaborate, wrought-iron balconies supported by carved figures are impressive and widespread. I also can’t help but notice the plethora of vintage Fiats. I’m besotted with these lightweight iconic city cars built between 1936 to 1955. Could I pack one up and ship it back to Canada? And there is the question, how will I ever go back home? Allora, there’s still more time… Palermo and Cefalu are next on the itinerary.
Palermo ~ Cefalu
The train journey across Sicily from Syracusa to Palermo unveils the unique Sicilian countryside. As the landscape slips past our window, dry, sandy, hues give way to verdant fields of grain, citrus, almond and olive trees. Colonies of prickly-pear cacti show off their flowery fruit against the deadly spikes. Once-loved farm villas are testament to the honest, timeless endeavour of farmers who have long tilled this fertile soil. As we near the northern coast of Sicily, we see a countryside that is incredibly fertile and a proliferation of modern farm estates. The rhythm of the train and the undulating flow of the land are peaceful and evocative. Ahead, the vibrant capital of Palermo awaits.
Only about 2700 years old and facing north toward the Tyrrhenian Sea, Palermo is everything all at once. True faded glory and rapturous grandeur. The past is unpolished, raw and honest. First impressions hit me all at once – busy, vibrant, a little grimy, and as always with palm trees, the tall lanky palms capture my heart..
I stand in the middle of Quattro Canti, four roads grandly intersecting, and I soak it all in. This crossroads at the historic centre radiates out to the ancient four quarters of the city. Also called the Theatre of the Sun, at least two corners are always bathed in sunlight. Construction, by order of the Spanish Viceroys, commenced in the early 1600’s. The four Baroque concave and symmetrical facades, are a history lesson unto themselves. Statues of the Spanish rulers of Sicily, Charles V, Phillip II, III, IV, occupy the second tier. Look high up and beautifully carved female patron saints are honoured… Christina, Ninfa, Olivia, Agata. Back down at ground level, the four seasons are represented in intricate fountains.
I imagine the time when the newly installed landmarks and piazza were the cutting-edge in urban planning. I see the nobility in fine carriages, the swirl of a ladies fine silk crinoline, a Capuchin friar in sombre brown rushing past to the nearby church. The weight of history embodied here clashes somewhat with the present day. Tourist golf carts vie for tourists alongside more traditional horse and carriage rides. Street hawkers with an eye on the weather forecast offer umbrellas alongside long-established bazaars. Ancient stone streets now littered with far too many cigarette butts and local graffiti adorns many city walls. Palermo is a little gritty along with the grand and historic.
Unfortunately, we come down with a virus and have to take it a little easier than usual. Still, I muster the energy to treat myself to a pricey glass of wine at the Grand Hotel Et Des Palmes. Sitting on the outdoor terrace overlooking rooftops, one appreciates how embraced Palermo is by the surrounding mountains such as Mount Pellegrino. I sense that the original streets and piazzas were aligned to create sight lines to the peaks. Without a doubt Palermo is essential to see, to stitch together the full, incredible layered story of Sicily.
We complete this sojourn with a relaxing stay in Cefalu to the east. It’s precisely what we need to recover and our stay at the Insulae Resort is fabulous. We finally relax, read and write. We wander into the town for a slow stroll and a sunset drink overlooking the sea. A feeling of gratitude washes over me. Sicily has always been on my wish list and I’ve fallen for its ancient land and cities, the warm, friendly people, the excellent food and wine. I say a silent grazie millie as we board the flight from Palermo to Venice… Sicilia, I hope to return.
