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.
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