Palermo to Cambridge

My alarm went off at about 6.45, and I finished packing up and ate some cakes and drank some juice. I intended to leave very early, but I checked out, and gave the nice old man my unused bus ticket from the day before, and set off walking at about 7.45. I started walking down Via Maqueda, but cut across blocks to Via Roma. I was sorry to be leaving Sicily so soon as I’d just got used to it. At the station, I bought a ticket to Punta Raisi for €5, and there was a train scheduled at about 8.15. It was delayed, and there was an impossibly massive crowd waiting to get on – they all looked like students. When the train arrived, everyone crammed on, and the first 10 minutes were quite uncomfortable, standing up. The majority got off at one stop, and I could get a seat and get comfortable.

I ate the last of my little cakes, took a couple of photos out the window of the rocky mountains, and arrived at the airport at around 8.45. I checked in without incident, went to the toilet, bought some frutta martorana and went through security. I was now used to taking my belt off. At the gate, I took some more photos (which didn’t work) and persuaded a machine to give me a surprisingly good, though small, cup of coffee. The Brits began an orderly queue before long, but when boarding was called, all the Sicilians just made a mad dash for the gate. I got through and got an aisle seat between two Sicilian couples who were going to London for the first time. The nice girl next to me asked me whether it was better to get a coach or a train to the city.

The flight was uneventful, and upon landing at Stansted, I was delighted to find that the weather was clear and warm. I had some time to kill before my coach, so I followed the example set by a few people and stretched out on the grassy slope behind the bus buildings and ate some olives. Upon switching my phone on, I received a message from Andrew welcoming me home. I went to get on the coach, and witnessed some confusion between some guys from Estonia and a clueless National Express man. I intervened by telling them that Parkside and Parkers Piece were one and the same place, and then chatted to the Estonian guys for a while. As we got on, they wanted to make sure that they got off where I did. I sat opposite them. Back to Cambridge on time.

More exploring Palermo

Alarm 7.30. The light was still on, and the bed next to me unslept in. I went up to breakfast at 8.30 after a nice lie-in. I walked out the door at 9 am and headed to Teatro Massimo for a tour. I stopped in a few clothes shops on the way. At the theatre, despite Melinda’s guide book saying that it was open at 9.30 am, everything was locked, so I asked a nice man at the side whether they did tours. He said yes, and that I needed to go around the front. I tried to go around the inside of the fence, but a nasty man told me to go around the outside. I waited out the front with a lot of other people, and the gates were unlocked at 10 am. I went in with everyone else, and bought my ticket for an English tour for €5. I was told that I wasn’t allowed to take photos. Which meant the best internal photo I had was on the postcard that I’d sent Nik.

While I waited for the tour to start, I spied a poster that told me that the Simon Bolivar youth orchestra of Venezuela had performed there under the baton of one Gustavo Dudamel in November 2006. Nice link. Anyway, the tour started eventually. First, we went into the hall of mirrors, which leads to the main hall. In the main hall, it didn’t look as beautiful as the postcard without all the lights on, but it was still huge and very grand. The technicians on the stage were building the set for Janacek’s House of the Dead. The guide told us that the theatre was built between 1870 and 1890-something. The stage has a slope down towards the audience to aid viewing, and it’s 40 m deep behind the set – for Aida they had real elephants. For a time, it was the third biggest stage in Europe after the Paris opera house and one in Vienna. The seats were red velvet – originally it was to seat over 3000 people, but regulations mean that only 1350 fit now. There are windows under the cupola for ventilation.

From there, we went to see the royal box. Outside it was a beautiful mahogany reception room with original furniture, original Murano glass chandeliers and original silk paintings on the ceiling. Inside the box, we saw the niches at the side that amplify the sound. And then we went into the echo room. It’s perfectly round, with a huge cupola in the middle, and was originally used for smoking, and now for exhibitions. If you stand right in the middle, it has an awesome echo – I even tested it. There were 17 big wooden doors around the outside – some were fake, only put there for the sake of symmetry. These rooms were all duplicated on the opposite side of the theatre too, for the same reason.

Then we saw the carriage entrance at ground level, now used for VIP guests, then we were back in the shop area. I used the toilets and had a look at the posters in the foyer. I went back to the hotel, stopping to try some clothes on that didn’t fit. Stupidly, one top was ridiculously tight around my upper arms. The sizing must be very strange as I was trying on mediums. I left my camera back at the hotel, got my towel, and went back out, stopping to buy a pendant for Ange and being pestered by the guy in the shop to buy something else. I tried to get more cash, because the marcasites really were beautiful, but the machine again wouldn’t cooperate. On the way down Via della Liberta, I bought two pizzas for €1 each, then got the bus to Mondello, getting off further up the beach this time. I had a warm, chilled-out afternoon, eating some pizza, getting some lovely sun, and having a very nice swim. There were a lot of people on the beach, but many of them were fully clothed and just socialising.

When I’d had enough and the sun started to retreat, I walked all the way into Mondello proper, which was nice but slightly tacky. The market stalls had some horrible things there. I couldn’t find a cash machine, so I got the next bus back to Palermo. I found a cash machine back in the city, bought dinner and some Etna Rosso from the supermarket, got gelato (fairly disappointing tiramisu and nougat) and went back to my room. The other person’s things had gone. I laid out my picnic of olives, cheese, prosciutto and crackers, and tucked in, watching some TV and relaxing, and starting to pack up. I went to bed at 11 pm.

Mt Etna

Alarm at 7.30 again. Got up, had breakfast downstairs, and packed up, trying not to wake everyone. Deborah stirred, so I said goodbye to her and she gave me a hug. I went downstairs, left my bag in the corner of the reception area, and met my Etna tour at 9am. Marco was our guide, and the only other people were a couple from Stuttgart, the guy of which played AFL in a team called the Stuttgart Emus. Classic!

We went out and got in Marco’s Range Rover. He gave us some volcano/Catania background as we drove through the city. As we climbed through villages, he stopped for cigarettes, then fuel. We set off again on increasingly narrow and unpopulated roads, and were eventually crashing through bush and lurching over huge boulders. I wasn’t terribly comfortable to be honest. We stopped, thankfully, in an open area that we soon found out was the result of a 17th century eruption. It was so relatively recent that only mosses and lichens had started to grow. Etna is relatively explosive, having a high silica concentration in its geology, without being ‘officially’ explosive at 65%. The rocks here were dense, broken basalt, because the lava was viscous, moving more like a caterpillar than a river.

We got back in the car, got almost immediately back on the main road (phew!) and drove for another 10 minutes before stopping beside the road. We donned helmets and lights and crawled into a lava tunnel. It started small, but opened up a lot. I was at the back, carrying a big torch as well as Marco at the front. It was loose underfoot, but the ceiling was quite smooth. We saw stalactites (dark), and a couple of strange albino bats. It was very interesting. We only walked for about 10 minutes before turning back.

Back at the car, we drove for another little while before arriving at Rifugio Sapienza, which was already above the cloud line. After making use of the toilets in the touristy restaurant, we clambered up onto the Silvestri crater to have a look. I misunderstood the plan, and took off on my own, but it was amazing. You could see the rim so clearly, and the clouds were just drifting across. Visibility was minimal. I met the others coming the other way, and Marco explained some things to me – that this crater had been a vent on the side of the larger volcano. He also explained that the rocks were extremely sharp because of the high silica content, making them like glass. I had a demonstration when I kneeled down to take a photo. Ouch! I wanted to go down into the crater itself, as it wasn’t far and had cool black sand, but Marco said it was a bad idea in the fog. There were ladybugs everywhere – in the nooks and crannies of the rocks and all over the ground. I souvenired some rocks because Marco said I could.

We got back in the car, but only drove 100 metres before Marco pointed out a house that narrowly escaped the 2001 lava. It literally stopped against the wall and cracked the window. Marco had been there at the time, helping, because his uncle is a policeman (and Marco had been telling us how the Sicilian police do no work). We went in to have a look, and the man in the shop offered me some pistacchio brittle. It was lovely, but too expensive.

We headed off again, stopping at another refuge that hadn’t been so lucky. It was a smallish house – hut really – completely surrounded by lava, with only the roof showing. We walked down to it and took some photos. We then ate the included ‘snack’, which consisted of cheese, tomato and olives on toasted foccaccia. It was delicious, and we had peach juice too. From this spot beside the road, we could see the city spread out below us under the cloud, as well as two different vintages of lava either side – one side was 1983, the other 2001.

After this, we headed back to Catania. On the way, Marco told us interesting stories. Apparently someone had been digging in his back garden in Nicolosi, and had found some ancient remains. They promptly covered them back up again, because the government would have claimed it and taken the garden over as an excavation site. I asked him about building standards for earthquake purposes. There are regulations, and I saw some houses being built with very strange looking bricks, but because Sicily is such a poor place, not many people can afford to use them.

At the hostel, we paid Marco, got the details of the wine he’d recommended, and split up. Shame Marco needed two showers and to wash his hair. He was pretty cool. I headed for the markets, which had sadly just closed, then to the pasticcerie on Duomo square for two small cheese cannoli. Amazing! I walked around Duomo square looking for wine shops with no luck. Then I headed in the direction of the Greek ancient theatre (which was closed for renovation), then the half-buried Roman theatre surrounded by busy streets (not very impressive), then the Teatro Massimo on Piazza Bellini, looking around at everything as I went. Piazza Bellini is a lovely piazza – sunny and wide, with a tinkly fountain.

I looked at my map, and found a wine shop advertised nearby. I tracked it down, but it was closed. So I went back to collect my bag, donate my unused bus ticket, and then walked to the bus station, because Alessandro had told me that a bus was the only way to cut back across the island to Palermo. I was disappointed to not have the chance to see Siracusa, but I just didn’t have time. I bought a ticket for Palermo (€13.60), ate an arancino from the cafe opposite, and got on the bus, which went via the airport. The view of Etna on the way out was stunning. Most of the cloud had cleared and I could see the top. I tried to get photos and video, but they didn’t really turn out. The sunset was also stunning, but I couldn’t get photos as I was on the wrong side of the bus.

The trip was uneventful: the scenery was unexceptional, and it got dark before long anyway. I arrived back in Palermo at 8pm. I got gelato near the station – melon and frutti di bosca. The melon wasn’t great, but the other was fantastic. I wandered back to the hotel and checked in again. I then ate cake, wrote my diary and drank limoncello. The other side of the room had someone’s things spread out, so I left the light on and put my eye mask on. Bed at 11pm.

Taormina

Alarm at 7.30. Got up, got dressed and went downstairs with Deborah for breakfast. It was basic – corn flakes, bread, jam and coffee. Deborah and I chatted about our jobs – she’s looking at changing direction like I did. We got ready to go, and Deborah turned on the light in the darkened room. I went downstairs to avoid the resultant grumpy sleepers, write up my diary and get change for my €50 note. We set off walking to the station. It was coolgoog, but a lovely clear day, and it soon became apparent what beauty was just around the corner from the hostel. The duomo square was lovely, with a fountain in the corner, the two big domes, and an elephant statue in the middle. I took some photos, but knew that I would see it in more detail another time.

The route to the station was pretty straightforward, but once there, I realised that Deborah intended to get the bus rather than the train, so we kept walking a little way further to the bus station. I intended to do half a day with Deborah in Taormina, then get a train down to Siracusa to have a quick look. We bought tickets in the office opposite for €4.60, but had 45 minutes to wait for the next bus. So we looked around for something to do in the meantime, but in that part of town, there wasn’t a great deal except for a little market wagon with lovely looking fruit and vegetables. So we went into a cafe across the road, and I surprised myself by getting some gelato – coffee of course. We sat for a bit, I showed Deborah the arancini in the display cabinet as she hadn’t seen any yet, and then we went back across.

The 11am bus arrived and we got on right near the front. I saw the modern, busy part of the city on the way out, and then got on the highway. It was nice to see the countryside from above. I showed Deborah some photos on my camera as she wanted to know about Palermo. We went through Giardini and I saw rowers – not just fixed seat boats, but proper double sculls. The sea was actually flat enough and I saw them racing. We went on past the train station, then up an amazing set of steep switchbacks, arriving at the Taormina bus terminal, which looked more like the middle of nowhere. We couldn’t make sense of the Lonely Planet map, so asked a taxi driver where the Greek theatre was. He said 1km up the hill, in the direction that the crowd was moving. We followed them, looking in a couple of shops on the way. It cost €6 to go in the theatre, and go in we did.

We walked around a little, taking photos, and having a look in the bookshop, before sitting in the theatre itself to eat something (two sandwiches). The stage of the theatre had planks across it, and light scaffolding on the sides – probably from recent performances. It really is in a dramatic location, but the clouds were annoyingly clustered around the top of Mt Etna in the distance, and heading in our direction, so I couldn’t get a properly sunny photo. At this point, I gave up all hope of getting to Siracusa later in the day. I was enjoying Taormina. After we’d relaxed enough, we headed down, and meandered through the shops, just following the crowd. The delis with wine and oil and limoncello and all manner of jams, sauces, nuts etc. were mouth-watering. A pasticcerie had an amazing collection of pastries and confectionery, and we had some cannoli – I had two small cream ones. Yum!

We stopped for Deborah to eat at a gorgeous cafe up a little alley. She had melon and prosciutto, and I had the seafood meal I’d promised myself – smoked tuna, salmon and sail fish. It was €9 and very good. The waiter took our photo. From there, we meandered more, and in a great tailored clothing shop Deborah showed me the wonder of the business shirt bodysuit. We ended up in a beautiful square with churches and a balcony and binoculars to the sea, blue, blue sky and a rather large crowd. There wasn’t much more in the way of civilisation to see. We saw a Byzantine mosaic icon of the Theotokos in an arch under the clock tower on Corso Umberto I, and Deborah went into an internet cafe, and then we came to a garden with palm trees that marked the end of the shops. I’d been sure that we’d get to the beach eventually, but I was wrong. I had a last go at orienting ourselves on the map, and this time had success. We’d come to the end of one long road, and to get both back, and to the beach, we would have to retrace our steps. She decided to stay and shop, so we swapped numbers and split up.

I strode back through town surprisingly quickly, got some more gelato (nocciola [hazelnut] and fragola [strawberry] – the nocciola was creamy and AWESOME!!) and headed for the cablecar. I bought a €3.50 return ticket and got on. We sailed over the top of a football game that I wish I could have taken a photo of for Andrew. It was a short ride. I got off and went straight ahead and down a subway under the road, coming out on an essentially private hotel beach. It reminded me of the one that Camillo and I had seen near Positano. It was late and the sun had gone behind the hill, so I just had a quick walk to the left along the path, then up some stairs winding through houses back to the road. I walked around the main coast road until I could see the next long beach, but didn’t have time to get close to it. I took some photos and turned back, going straight back to the cablecar. Deborah had said that there was a bus at 6.45 (where had the time gone?) and I had about 45 minutes.

I got back to the top, found the right road to the bus station, and bought some water. At the bus station, I bought another €4.60 ticket, and was told that the next bus to Catania wasn’t until 7.45. I asked for a copy of the timetable to see for myself. The 6.45 was starred, with a footnote that said something like ‘will finish on 27 Sept’. I texted Deborah, but waited just in case it turned up. It didn’t. I now went to meet Deborah in the shirt shop. She was trying things on and faffing about what to buy. We finally escaped, she stopped for the toilet, and we quick-marched back to the bus station. I wasn’t going to miss this one!

We got on, and had an uneventful trip back. We were both hungry, so on the way back to the hostel, after vetoing the vans at the train station, she spotted an oven-fired pizza place on Vittorio Emmanuele. We went in because it looked jolly. And stayed because the pizza was cheap. Deborah chose one called La R, that had things on it that we couldn’t translate. We asked, and they turned out to be eggplant and anchovies. We were both keen, so ordered that and Deborah got a beer. While we waited, we took some photos and drank some beer. The guy behind the counter and the guy cooking the pizzas were clowning around, saying that this other good-looking guy should get in the photo. It was merry and fun. The pizza was phenomenally good when it came, too. When it was all gone, we said our goodbyes and headed back to the hostel. I wrote my diary. Bed at 11.30.

Palermo to Cefalu, Messina, and Catania

Alarm at 7.30. Went for breakfast and had an argument with the woman at the desk about not being able to choose which breakfasts I paid for (i.e. they had to be consecutive, which means I’d missed one the previous day). I packed up everything I’d need in Catania into my small pack and a plastic bag, dreading going out in the pouring rain, and left my email address for Melinda. As I asked to leave my bag at reception, the woman apologised for being narky – it was apparently because she hadn’t had her coffee yet. I understood her point, but she’d been very patronising.

I headed out, got cash from across the road, bought some gorgeous earrings that I’d spotted on the way to the cathedral, and set off walking up Via Maqueda, looking for a cheap bag. I found some at a market stall right near the station. The man offered me the one I wanted for €15, then €13, then €10. I took it, getting change for my €50 note in the process, and shoved the plastic bag I’d been carrying inside. I went looking for the post office to the left of the station that the woman had told me about, with no luck. A man I asked didn’t speak English. So I went inside the station and bought postcards for Nik and Ange, then went to the toilet, finding the post office nearby, with a huge queue attached. I bought stamps from the Tabacchi to send the postcards, wrote on them, sent them, and changed some cash at the Tabacchi. I bought my ticket to Cefalu (€4.70) and waited 45 minutes for the train. The journey was through Termini Imeresa and was very quick.

I got off at about 12.50 and set off down the hill in a guess at the right direction for a quick tour of the town. Before long, I saw a sign for the Temple of Diana, and headed up through increasingly steep streets to ‘La Rocca’. After quite a few steps, I got to some sort of fortification and decided to go no further because the path was tricky and I had limited time. It was also grey and windy. I looked around, then headed back down and continued walking downhill through the beautiful town, looking for a supermarket to buy lunch. The beach was great, with real surf, but really windy. I didn’t find a supermarket despite seeing a sign for one, and decided to get the 2pm train for Messina, so headed back to the station. The ticket to Messina was €8.45 and the station was full of noisy teenagers. I bought some water.

The train was very old but the trip was OK, though the sea view lost its novelty after an hour (or what I could see of it through the damaged window). I sat opposite a woman and her mother, who were very nice. Nearly everyone who walked down the aisle next to me lurched in my direction as the train moved. The man opposite thought it was quite funny. On the way, I ate the apple I’d bought in Palermo, and some cake. I texted Mark, when I read his Facebook status as ‘no longer a student’, to ask him whether he’d submitted. He said no, but that he was to start work on Monday and was excited about it.

Arrived at Messina at about 4.30, and abandoned any idea of stopping in Taormina as well. The next train to Catania was at 5.27, so I bought a ticket for €6.45, an arancino and some more water, and got on board. I had quite a while to wait, so I texted Bob and Laura. The view of Messina across the ferry harbour was amazing – white and mighty on the side of the hill – and the sea seemed much calmer on this side. For a while, it was fine weather on the coast side of the train, and foul grey clouds and rain on the hill side. Bizarre. Both Bob and Laura replied fairly quickly, making me feel less lonely. The train went through a lot of towns where the houses had been built right up to the train line, and so it went painfully slow for quite some time. The lights in our carriage weren’t working, which hadn’t been a problem until we came to tunnels, in which it was pitch black, which was a fairly disturbing feeling. The weather improved, and the train sped up.

After a while, I could see a big disturbance in the clouds high in the sky, which I was sure was Etna. A man asked us to move to a lit carriage, as it was getting dark. We got to Catania a little after it was scheduled, and there was no one who could tell me how to get to Piazza Duomo as the tourist office was closed. I went to look at the buses and saw the Duomo listed as a stop, so I bought a €1 bus ticket from the Tabacchi. The man there said to take the 927. I rang the hostel, and they couldn’t give me much more advice than to find a way to get myself to Piazza Duomo. I’d also seen Duomo on the circolaire 931 bus. I didn’t see a 927 hiding behind another bus until it was leaving. A ‘taxi’ driver with no signs on his car kept asking me if I needed a taxi. I kept saying no. I asked the driver of the 931 whether it went to Pizza Duomo and he said to take the 927. So I waited for the next 927, but he said to take the 931. I gave up and asked the taxi man how much it would cost. He said €10. I got him down to €7. He even guessed which hostel I was going to.

He took me there with a minimum of fuss, but went over the odd kerb with a thump, and deposited me directly in front of the hostel. I went to the door and pressed what I thought was the bell. Someone let me in eventually. I signed the necessary forms and paid the nice man (Alessandro) and he gave me the necessary info. I saw brochures for 4WD Etna tours and asked about them. There was a full-day trip that did the forests, a lava cave and a crater, along with Alcantara Gorge, which I wanted to go to, but had given up on as too difficult, but the next day was full. There was also a half-day available without the gorge. So I thought about doing the full day tour on the Monday, but I would never have got back to Palermo in time so would forfeit a night’s accommodation as well as having to pay for another in Catania. I asked Alessandro whether there was a supermarket nearby. He said there was one around the corner.

 I went upstairs to think about the Etna thing, and met Deborah, a Malaysian-born Chinese girl from Sydney. As I unpacked and made my bed, I decided to do the half-day tour on the Monday and sadly do without Alcantara Gorge, so I went back downstairs and out to the supermarket. It was very disappointing, and I bought some horrible tinned spam stuff to put on my bread. I then booked the tour and used the internet for an hour (€2), talking to Andrew, and finding an email from Lisa. I went up for a shower, but realised I had no towel. I went back downstairs to get one, but didn’t have €2 change. Alessandro gave it to me anyway, and said that I owed him. Back upstairs, I chatted to Deborah, and we decided to go to Taormina together the next day. I put in my ear plugs and eye mask against the noise and light (loud music outside and horrible creaky bunks) and slept fairly well. One girl came in late and started talking on the phone, but was told to shut up. I became aware of a very loud noise through the night, which I found out was from trains passing alarmingly close to the building.

Agrigento

Alarm went off at 7.30, and I got up at 8am. I ate the cake I’d brought with me and the juice I’d bought rather than having breakfast upstairs, then made sandwiches with ham, mozzarella and tomato. I left at 8.40 but promptly turned back for my umbrella and coat as it was raining and cool. I couldn’t work out how to get through the door into the bank nearly opposite the hotel in order to get change. Instead, I walked to the station, finding a bank nearby, and asked the nice security guard outside whether I could get change. He said yes, and I worked out the bank door trick (stand in the revolving bit and wait for the other door to open), and got change (cambio). At the station, I bought a ticket to Agrigento for €7.60 but had to wait an hour for the next departure, which was very annoying. I got on, and the train was comfortable and quiet. I texted Andrew again because I was a little lonely.

The train went through Termini Imeresa and then headed south through very rural country. The tracks seemed very flimsy, but the train ran OK. I was feeling self-conscious in my summer clothes, and some guys got on about halfway looking like Mafia. I ate some cake and took some photos out the window. There were very few people left by the time we got to Agrigento. I got off into a warm, sunny day, and went to the dodgy station toilets, bought two bus tickets from the café, and asked the woman where the bus left from. I had to get a 1, 2 or 3 from just outside the station.

I got the bus easily to the Valle Dei Templi (helped by the driver calling it out to those of us who were English-speaking tourists), and bought a combined site and museum ticket for €10. I then ate one of my sandwiches and headed into the smaller, less important western section. There was one corner of a temple standing that was cool. The view to the sea was amazing. It was here that the man from Evan Cycles chose to ring me. He said he’d ring back the following week. I couldn’t read the signs as they were in Italian (should have paid for an audio guide), but apparently one collection of circular rocks was a sacrificial altar. There were a lot of cactus plants around the site. (I later saw Melinda’s photos, showing graffiti on the leaves.)

I headed back up the hill, ate the other sandwich and made friends with an olive tree. I then headed across the road into the eastern section and was immediately and grandly faced with the Temple of Concord. It was amazing, and much bigger than I thought. I took a picture on my phone and sent it to Andrew. I kept going up to the Temple of Guinone, which was also cool, though more ruined. I walked back down with the intention of hugging the other side of the narrow site, but there wasn’t much more to see. I bought a postcard for Andrew of Concord, and got some water and some lemon gelato (overpriced and not great), and tried to decide whether to see the museum as well. I asked where it was at the ticket window, and it was 800m back up the main road. I decided to get the 6.10 train and walked up the hill in the heat.

The museum was new and shiny. I tried to read everything, but realised that I wouldn’t have time. So I looked at everything instead. I liked the painted Corinthian stuff the most. I had a quick look at the Ekklesiasterion and headed to the bus stop with an English couple. There’d been Germans, Americans, Brits and Aussies on the site. The bus came quickly and got to the station quickly. I bought a ticket, and some bready/cheesy/sausagy/olivy/hammy things, and got on the train. This one was noisier, but with fewer people. I asked the same English couple whether we were in fact heading for Palermo. They thought we were, so that was good enough for me. I took some photos of the beautiful sunset and stained clouds out the window, but couldn’t capture the moon later in the trip, even though it was looking gorgeous. The train got back to Palermo 15 minutes late. I walked up Via Roma, and got some banana and coconut gelato (yum!). I took some pictures of the street lights and a random guy called out to me from a window above (‘Segnora!’). I ignored him.

Back in my room, I chatted to Melinda and drank Limoncello. Bed at 10.30.

Exploring Palermo

Alarm went off at 8am. I was tired but got out of bed at 8.30 a.m. Got dressed conservatively, went to reception for breakfast. They didn’t have change for my €20, so they did an IOU. The little old man took me upstairs and tried to tell me something – I think it was when breakfast ended, as he said ‘alle’. I ate cake, cereal, coffee and yoghurt, then came back downstairs, got ready and went out.

I bought some bus tickets from the tabacchi, and walked up Vittorio Emmanuele to the cathedral, which was very clean and white from the outside. It was nice inside, but certainly not spectacular. Then I went on, through an interesting garden, to Piazza Indipenza to find the Cappuccine Catacombes. There were food stalls and rides there, and confusing signs pointing to the catacombes. After a wrong turn up a not particularly salubrious street, I found it eventually, following some other tourists. It was €1.50 to get in, and you unfortunately weren’t allowed to take photos, which I guess was a fairly respectful thing to do for the dead. It was quite small, but the corridors of skeletons just seemed to go on forever. They were all clothed, and often there were family groups, and small children and babies in cots. I wasn’t sure how I’d react, and I certainly wasn’t disgusted or freaked out, but after a while I found it just spooky and I thought I’d probably die if one of them moved. The worst ones were the ones that still had skin and hair, and the ones that had facial expressions that suggested that they’d died in great pain. I was ready to leave by the time I’d seen them all. I had a quick look in the church next door, then walked back to Piazza Indipenza to catch the 389 to Monreale.

I found the bus stop, waited for a while, trying to get used to the traffic directions, and got on with all the other tourists. The bus was absolutely packed solid; I felt exactly like a sardine. And it took ages in heavy traffic. The bus got there eventually, via steep switchbacks at the end, and I got off outside a cafe where it stopped. I had a quick wander in the village, walking through an archway into an interesting looking square. A little old man tried to talk to me, saying ‘bella’. I think he was asking me whether I was cold, so I shook my head and said no. He kept speaking to me, so I told him that I didn’t speak Italian. I went to move off, but another man called out to me in English, saying that the little old man didn’t speak English. We were at a stalemate. I tried to move away as politely as I could.

I went into the cathedral. The mosaics were very nice and shimmering, but they weren’t as glorious as they’d been made out to be. I walked around it slowly, taking photos, and was just about to sit down and absorb it all for a while, when someone announced that it was closing. Everyone left, and I went into a cafe to buy a very yummy arancina and some water, sitting to eat it next to the fountain, and then some very good gelato (chocolate and amarena). I walked around some more to look at the view back to Palermo (which was amazing), and past the cathedral out to the east, and then went to wait for the bus, which seemed to take a very long time. While I was waiting, I became aware of a conversation taking place next to me between another little old man and two younger women. They were talking about music and opera, and I somehow picked up that the man had played the clarinet at some point. All three of them started humming different operas that I recognised but couldn’t name. Then all three broke into Bolero. It was lovely.

The bus arrived eventually, and again took ages to get back into the city. I got off at Piazza Indipenza, and walked back down Vittorio Emmanuele. I tried again unsuccessfully to get cash, so had to resort to using my Perm card. Going back up to the hotel, I dropped off the cash, got changed into my swimmers, paid the nice English-speaking man at reception for four breakfasts, and went back out.

I walked down Via Marqueda, past Teatro Massimo, which is huge and stunning, to Politeama Square, which houses the Politeama Theatre, which is also amazing. I caught the 833 bus to Mondello, and it hugged the coast side of Monte Pellegrino, which was quite spectacular. I wasn’t entirely sure where I was going, but got off at the free beach at the end of what I was sure was Mondello. I walked on the sand for a while, enjoying the sun and the view, then some American guys walking along decided to strip down to their underwear and get in the water. So I took advantage of the situation and left my bag with the local guy who was with them (who chose not to swim) and went in myself. The water was gloriously warm, and the situation just beautiful. I got out, thanked the Italian guy, and he and the American guys left. I sat on the beach for a while, listening to a man nearby gently strumming a guitar. It got late, and so I packed up to go.

I went back to the road to catch the bus back, but quickly realised that it was a one-way system, and that all the buses were heading further into Mondello rather than back to Palermo. Two buses went past before I realised that they were still marked Politeama. So after waiting 45 minutes, I flagged down the next one, asking if he was going to Politeama. He nodded. I got on, and the bus went through the rest of Mondello, which I hadn’t seen. It looked very nice, with market stalls and things. Some noisy teenagers got on, and made the journey back to Palermo quite uncomfortable. It was dark when the bus got back to Politeama. I walked along Via della Liberta until I found some cheap pizza to eat, the continued up Via della Liberta until it turned back into Via Marqueda, and turned left into Vittorio Emmanuele to find a supermarket. I bought €11 of food before they kicked me out so they could close. Like in Vienna, I didn’t realise I had to weigh my vegetables and put a sticker on them before I got to the checkout. A man packing my bag for me offered me the chance to stay with him to save money. I politely declined and ran away.

I walked back to the hotel (I think Melinda was there), and ate olives, mozzarella, bread and drank limoncello. I heard the trombone solo from Sweet Home Chicago thumping out of someone’s car window on their way past through the ambient noise of the city. Bed at 9.30.

Arrival in Palermo

Coach from Parker’s Piece at 3.40 am, arrive Stansted at 4.35, checking in luggage for the 6.35 (?) flight. I had plenty of time, and had to wait near the screens for the gate to be announced. I made my way there, and was quite a way up in the queue at the gate. The flight left without incident, and while I tried to sleep, I failed, mostly due to the posh couple beside me having an academic conversation about Cambridge colleges.

Arrived at Palermo airport at 10 am. I was excited to see palm trees and a billboard advertising a cous cous festival. The airport was very small, and suspiciously quiet. The train into the city left at 11am, after waiting for about 15 minutes, and the journey hugged the coast, giving me views of small houses scattered between olive plantations, and a LOT of mountains. The train arrived at 12 pm after stopping in the middle of nowhere a few times. I had a good memory of the map that I’d studied, but couldn’t find anyone to give me an actual map of the city, so made off in the direction that I expected Via Roma to be. Turns out I was lucky, but crossing the road was a major mission!

I walked up Via Roma, dodging people the whole way, until I found Via Vittorio Emmanuele. I turned left as the directions had told me, but didn’t find the hotel. I sorted the numbers out, and realised that I had to be another block up. I found the entrance to the hotel, which had a building site on the ground floor, and walked up the marble steps, not expecting anything very good for my €16 per night. I was surprised when it was nicely decorated, and the woman on the desk spoke good English. I managed to cancel the two nights I wanted to spend in Catania, and paid my bill on the spot. The room was very nice, and I was sharing with another girl, Melinda, from New York, who seemed very nice. She went out soon after I got there, taking the only key with her.

I went out without being able to lock the door, and went in search of cash. I couldn’t get any out of the machine for some reason. I got some gelato, pistacchi and bacio, and took it to eat at the forbidden fountain – it was delicious. I texted Andrew to let him know that I’d arrived. I then walked down Via Vittorio Emmanuele to the sea, past the marina and across the main road to a park, from which I could see Monte Pellegrino. There were cool tiled ‘sunbeds’, which I sat on for a while. I then walked along the shore to Via Lincoln, then up past the dodgy clothes shops to the Mercato Ballaro markets. Most of them had shut, but I managed to get €2 of olives, which was a huge bag considering that they were €5 a kilo. I also got bread, ham and juice.

I walked back to the hotel, had a little to eat, and had a nap at 5pm. Melinda came back in, turned the light on in my face, and went out again, locking me in! I stayed in bed for a while longer, contemplating calling reception to let me out. Melinda came back around 8pm, though, with a stack of food, which she offered to share with me in recompense for locking me in. I had a shower, did some planning, and went to bed properly at 10.30. As we were trying to go to sleep, a guy with a piano accordion started playing the theme from The Godfather under the window. Very appropriate.