Sicily Part II: Retracing Taormina Moments

 Sicily Part II: Retracing Taormina Moments

It is Christmas season once again, and with its arrival, the pine-scented air carries not only the widespread and amorous custom of mistletoe but also the high

Confirmation Winter Has Begun

-pitched accompaniment of Alvin and the Chipmunks.  Mistletoe has long been a symbol of life and fertility (more on fertility later) because it remains green throughout winter.  Custom has it that a couple must kiss (refusing meant bad luck) for each berry plucked from the sprig; once the berries are gone, supposedly, so is the permission for another kiss.¹  

Yet, for all the season’s charm, my thoughts drift elsewhere this month — back to sunny Sicily.  One of the warmest winter refuges in all of Europe, it offers a welcome escape from an otherwise chilly clime.  Coastal temperatures hover between 57–61°F (14–16°C) which keeps the snow at bay everywhere except along the shoulders of Mount Etna.  It’s a place where the sun still lingers when the rest of the continent freezes.  Lower prices and the absence of crowds make the season feel even more inviting.

You’d be right to guess I’m longing to return, especially now with snow piling up outside my window, yearning for my shovel’s attention.  For the moment, I have only my memories to warm my hands as I bide my time.  So come along: here’s the sequel to Sicily, Served With a Side of Adventure, beginning with our departure for Taormina.

The veil of sleep lifted on another gleaming day as we backtrack north along the coastal highway past Catania to lofty Taormina.  A few hours and a fuel stop later, we arrived below soaring Taormina

Isola Bella at the Base of Taormina

rising from the shoreline near tiny Isola Bella, referred to as the Pearl of the Ionian Sea.²  Indeed, Isola Bella rests so close to the mainland that when the tide is low, you can easily walk the thin tongue of sand connecting this teeny island to nearby Taormina.  From the highway, it is a zigzag climb through very narrow streets, many we learned, senso unico (one way) or pedestrian only.  I’d not recommend this stressful drive to the faint-hearted, given the unpredictability of Italian drivers, the overwhelming crowds, swarms of mopeds, and the general lack of parking.  Better to rely on trains and taxis and avoid the need for parking when even turning around is an unpleasant task.  As I drove ever onward and upward, I was comforted by Antonio’s, our host, assurance of ample parking inside a gated compound. 

We were on the hunt for Airbnb Enrico Apt in Villa on Via Otto Geleng.  We thought we were following our host’s directions to the letter; nevertheless,

Our "Villa" Apartment

we went past one key landmark we’d been given, which, in domino fashion, led to missing additional critical turns and moving us farther off course.  We instead wound up at the approximate top of Taormina.  While affording stunning views of Mount Etna, the looming decrease in the number of roads checking further advance, strongly hinted that we’d run out of town.  At this point, we called our host who arrived quickly on, you guessed it, a moped. 

We’d overshot our destination by at least half.  Thankfully, our destination was closer to the main attractions, but being on hilly terrain meant plenty of stairs and steep streets.  Soon, after settling into our

Glimpse of Taormina - a Shopping Mecca

modest two-bedroom, two-bath accommodation, which included a galley kitchen and living room, we took our first trek downhill to the historic center. 

Taormina is graced with stunning views, an ancient history, a Greek theater, and vibrant multicultural richness.  The most widely accepted origin of its name dates to the 4th century BC settlement of Tauromenion by Greek islanders from Naxos.  The name is believed to mean either "House of the Taurus" or "Settlement on Mount Taurus,” both related to the bull in Greek mythological representations of Zeus in disguise.  Over time, it evolved into the Latin Tauromenium and eventually simplified to today's Italian Taormina.³  

It is indeed a pulsating scene of activity.  We got an appreciation for just how busy the goings-on were while enjoying paninis and refreshing beers over

Piazza IX Aprile

lunch at “Vecchia Taormina,” situated at one end of the teeming pedestrianized street Corso Umberto in Piazza St. Antonio Abate, overlooking the Bay of Giardini Naxos.  Sitting there, we got a feel for the pulse of this city and, following lunch, joined the bustling promenade of meandering shoppers and people-watchers, becoming rather adept at the later as Lenny and I waited for the devoted shoppers among us: Maria Elena and Joann.  We followed this centuries-old cultural hub, built upon the ancient Roman road Via Valeria, through the Duomo Piazza and beyond to checkerboard-paved Piazza IX Aprile. 

The square takes its name from an incident that unfolded there on the 9th of April 1860.  During a

Mass at Taormina’s Cathedral in Piazza Duomo, the service was abruptly interrupted by a dramatic announcement: Garibaldi had landed at Marsala on Sicily’s far western coast to begin his conquest of Sicily.  It was entirely false since Garibaldi would not set foot in Marsala until exactly one month later, on May 9.  Still, the inhabitants of Taormina, taken by the excitement of the moment, chose to honor the date by dedicating their most beautiful square in its honor.⁴ 

Short of a Hanzel and Gretel misadventure, we successfully followed the waypoints we’d noted on this first sortie into town and made our way back to our B&B for a much-anticipated dip in the pool.  On the idea of an infinity pool whose water spills off the edge, ours featured the illusion that the

Smoky Mount Etna

world itself disappeared beyond its terminus.  It was the high point of our stay.  Poised atop a high ridge, the pool framed an uninterrupted view of the coastline curling south toward Catania and, at the time, a plume of smoke from Mount Etna.  As late afternoon surrendered to an evening lit by an almost full moon, we sat by the water, enjoying nibbles of salami, cheese, olives, and mushrooms we’d purchased on the way back.  It became more memorable when Antonio returned from a tennis match, chatted with us about local politics, and introduced us to his father.

The next morning after a battle with a leaky iron, we headed to a nearby café for breakfast.  Every part of the world has its iconic breakfast: a full English breakfast with bangers and black pudding, miso soup and rice in Japan, and the ever-popular New York

Must-Have Taormina Breakfast 

mouthful of a bagel adorned with cream cheese and a slab of salmon.  But in Taormina, I abandoned the mainland’s quickly ingested cornetto and shot of espresso for something far more indulgent: a traditional Sicilian treat of icy granita paired with a warm, pillowy brioche bun.  It was one of my savory “must-haves” for this visit.  Coffee and pistachio are the most popular flavors, but I prefer lemon-flavored granite bordering on creamy, which was exactly what I enjoyed.

Afterward, we strolled Corso Umberto once more, combing through the few shops we’d somehow missed the previous day, all the while angling toward our destination: a third-century BC Greek theater, often referred to as an amphitheater, with seating for as many as 10,000 spectators.  Aside from spelling amphitheater correctly, I’ve

From the Top of the Greek Theater

always been intrigued by the origin of words.  The theater part of the word is obvious, but what about that amphi prefix?  Derived from the Greek amphi (“on both sides” or “around”) combined with theatron (“a place for viewing”), the word translates roughly to “a theater all around” or “double theater.”  Strictly speaking, since Taormina’s theater is semicircular, its design lacks the full oval form of a true Roman amphitheater like the Colosseum.  It goes by both names because it belongs to both worlds: to its Greek builders for dramatic plays with acoustics and views in mind, modified later by the Romans for the bloody spectacle of gladiatorial combat.  Today, with gladiatorial games no more, calling it a theater seems more fitting.  It now hosts cultural venues such as the annual Taormina Film Festival in July and has welcomed performers and celebrities (no swords

    

Samples of Cari Ptivitera's Creations

required) among them Elizabeth Taylor, Sophia Loren, Audrey Hepburn, Robert De Niro, Charlton Heston, Tom Cruise, Antonio Banderas, Marlon Brando (“The Godfather” himself), and Andrea Bocelli (click for video).  

      Maria Elena and I had visited the aptly named Teatro Antico di Taormina (Ancient Theater of Taormina) years earlier, so we lingered along Via Teatro Greco, the street approaching the entrance, while Joann and Len disappeared into its historic embrace.  Kiosks lined the approach, one so modest it was little more than an easel and a lone, intent artist whose work caught Mare’s eye.  We paused to watch Cari Privitera apply subtle, needle-fine brushstrokes to a miniature oil painting.  We were awestruck by the precision of this multifaceted artist, whose talents span decoration, painting, sculpture, and restoration.  Time slowed as we stood quietly at her side, mesmerized by the quiet intensity of her craft.  Each careful dab of paint seemed almost sacred.

 Admiration soon drifted into negotiation, beginning

Our Reminder of Raphael & Taormina

with Maria Ellena.  I liked what I saw, but I’m notorious for hesitating, especially when something is costly.  Our walls at home are already crowded.  “Where would this even go?” framed my argument.  For a while, it was a walk-away standoff as we waited for Joann and Lenny.  My resistance had totally dissolved before they arrived.  It was Maria Elena’s birthday, what better gift than something she truly loved?  We retraced our steps and departed, carrying a 4-by-5-inch oil on a wood panel, antiqued with layered paint and varnish.  Its slightly off-square shape only deepened its allure.  Our piece is a fragment of a larger masterpiece: Raphael’s Sistine Madonna.  With a bit of rearranging, it now hangs on our wall, where I hope it will quietly watch over us for years to come.

Soon reunited, we found ourselves with time to spare before our next excursion.  The day before, we noticed a framed advertisement on an easel outside

the historically charming 5-star Hotel Metropole, promoting a surprisingly modest-priced brunch.  Like moths drawn to a flame, we hesitated only briefly before reserving a table.  Ours was a good plan: enjoying something upscale in an indulgent atmosphere served on a terrace with breathtaking views over the Bay of Naxos with service to match the view.  By this point, our minds were tired from deciding whether to buy the Madonna, while Len and Joann had gained a more physical appreciation of just how many stone steps it takes to reach the theater’s summit.  Soon enough, mimosas arrived, and mulling over the menu, our orders ranged from lox and bagels to eggs Benedict.

We were eager to indulge, but unfortunately, we had to wait.  It wasn’t that they were busy; the buffet breakfast was clearly over.  Besides, we’d opted to

A Play on Lox and Bagels

treat ourselves to made-to-order items from their menu.  However, all was not bliss as time passed.  As minutes stretched on, the maître d’ produced a second round of drinks with apologies for the delay. Yet forty minutes was more than sufficient to suspect that something had gone very wrong.  Counter to the cherished thought of a perfect retreat for those seeking the very best, service proved a chaotic letdown.  Though the terrace sea view was as stunning as promised, and the setting more than pleasant, their ‘five stars’ were definitely not on display.  We suspected that the culprit was staffing.  Perhaps our reservation had been overlooked, and the kitchen staff had been prematurely dismissed.  Like a Dickens novel unfolding in real time, we found ourselves trapped between Great Expectations and a far less gourmet reality.  To our disappointment, the final cost was a further surprise: four drinks added 100€.

We spent the afternoon recuperating on the terrace, the pool within easy reach, Mount Etna’s dark silhouette hovering in the distance like a patient, watchful god.  Later, as prearranged by our host, Natale, a former taxi driver with an air of quiet authority, arrived and drove us to the medieval village of Castelmola.  Perched on a nearby mountaintop rising even higher than Taormina, it had been visible from our terrace.  You can imagine the stunning views from such a lofty vantage point, but trust

Welcome to Lofty Castelmola

me, there's more there to catch your eye than its shops, and family-run restaurants.  No visit to Castelmola is complete without a stop at Bar Turrisi, tucked into tiny Piazza San Nicola.  In the 1990s, an article in Focus Magazine christened its fame when it listed Bar Turrisi as one of the “seven most peculiar establishments in the world.”  “Peculiar” was an understatement.

Step inside and the theme becomes immediately, unmistakably clear.  Everything inside, from the door handles to the floor tiles, pays enthusiastic homage to the male penis.  Over the years, the collection grew, thanks in part to gifts from friends, including a coatrack by the entry roughly my height that would have impaled me if I hadn’t ducked.   Table lamps,

Turrisi Bar Tucked in the Corner 
of Piazza San Nicola

which I hesitate to show, offered further striking examples.

Some drinks, you guessed it, are served in penis-shaped glasses as their version of what might aptly be called “stiff drinks.”  Though some may call it ribald, Bar Turrisi has achieved worldwide fame and is now a must-visit spot for travelers seeking a truly unforgettable experience.  Agreed, what might politely be termed “fascinating ornamentation” may put some people off, but it is entirely innocent and undeniably fun.  A nearby table of five young British women on holiday confirmed my suspicion that this was an ideal venue for a girls' night out, or better yet, a bachelorette party.  As quirky as the bar is, I couldn’t help smiling at seeing a church just steps away in the piazza.  Apparently, the town fathers and church prelates had reached an enduring accord long ago.

The bar’s founder, Salvatore Turrisi, opened it in 1947 as an inn for foreigners.  In tribute to Priapus, the mythological Greek god of fertility, it gradually became known for its singular, fertility-themed décor.  Its signature almond wine of Greek origin, served with a slice of lemon and marketed as an elixir of love, helped cement its reputation.  Appropriately, the original name of the bar was “Taverna del Mandorlo in Fiore” (Tavern of the Almond Blossom).  Sampling this wine, served strictly in penis-shaped glasses, is obviously a must in this unapologetically fun-filled environment.  Anything less would possibly serve as an affront to the gods.

As winter continues back home, we find ourselves warmed not just by lingering memories of Sicilian sun, sea, stone, and mountains, but by the reminder that travel, like history, is rarely tidy.  It unfolds in missed turns, fraught negotiations, indulgences that delight and others that disappoint, along with unapologetically profane humor, all coexisting one with another.  All are memorable events we didn’t know we were collecting until we retrace them much later.  There is, of course, more of Sicily and Taormina to tell, but for now, I’ll let brevity suspend it in memory and pick it up next month when, in Part III, we again return to Sicily. 

From That Rogue Tourist,
Paolo 

1.      How Mistletoe Became a Christmas Kissing Tradition, https://www.smithsonianmag.com/history/how-mistletoe-became-christmas-kissing-tradition-180985450/

2.      Isola Bella (Beautiful Island), Taormina, https://www.gpsmycity.com/attractions/isola-bella-(beautiful-island)-61089.html

3.      History of Taormina, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/History of Taormina

4.      Taormina's Piazza IX Aprile, https://www.reidsitaly.com/destinations/sicily/northeast_sicily/taormina/sights/piazza-ix-aprile.html 

Video Link: Andrea Bocelli, Taormina Ampitheater (2023),“Nessun Dorma” Finale,
https://youtu.be/v1l9duDy-14

Sicily, Served With A Side of Adventure

The Toe of Italy (Calabria)
Seemingly Ready to 
Kick Sicily

 Sicily, Served With A Side of Adventure

Last month, before digressing to explore the finer points of grilling octopus, I mentioned how our intrepid foursome, Maria Elena, Joann, Lenny, and I, following an unforgettable night in Naples, had embarked on a two-week adventure in sunny Sicily.  

The island’s ancient emblem of identity, history, and resilience is the Trinacria, a winged female head of Medusa, long believed to serve as a protective talisman against evil.  The name Trinacria, meaning “three-pointed,” refers to Sicily’s triangular shape.  Its three bent legs are said to hold up the island, one leg beneath each of the

Trinacria Symbol of Sicily

island’s pointy capes.  Despite being surrounded by the sea, Sicily is quite arid, particularly from June through August, which accounted for the dry, burnt-looking landscape we observed as we exited Catania Airport in our rental vehicle.  

Still, the lack of greenery did nothing to dampen our spirits.  After all, we’d arrived in magnificent Sicily.  Beyond Sicily’s celebrated seafood, we were eager to sample its special treats like icy lemon-

An Arancini With Its Flavorful Surprise

flavored granita paired with a brioche bun, golden fried arancini rice balls the size of softballs filled with a savory surprise, and, of course, a glass of bold Nero d'Avola, the island’s famed red wine made from grapes of the same name.

I hadn’t rented a car in years, and when handed only a single set of keys, I half-wished for an owner’s manual instead of a second set.  The Ford Kuga’s array of high-tech gadgets took some getting used to. It wasn’t until I returned to the office for help changing the display language from Italian to English that I began to feel comfortable behind the wheel.  With our Waze navigation app guiding the way, we set off south on Highway E45 toward our first destination: the coastal town of Augusta, where we would spend three nights.

Augusta City and Port

      Augusta was founded in 42 BC by Octavian, who later became Emperor Augustus.  The city rose from the ruins of the ancient Greek colony of Megara Hyblaea.  Set along the Ionian Sea, the city boasts one of Italy’s principal harbors yet remains refreshingly off the beaten tourist track.  Our visit had a personal twist: Augusta was Lenny’s father’s hometown.  It had been years since Lenny and Joann last visited.  For
Maria Elena and me, it was a first. 

We arranged to stay at the B&B Villa Nella, named after our gracious host, Nella.  She and her husband, Santos, a former photographer who hummed the tunes of a thousand songs as he puttered about, had opened their home to travelers many years earlier.  Lenny had stayed there before and was welcomed back like family, which wasn’t far from the truth, for Nella and Santos were close friends of several of Lenny’s relatives.  This strong sense of family permeated our entire stay.  

B&B Villa Nella and Its
Delightful Terrace 

    One afternoon, they prepared a lavish lunch for us on their patio. We pitched in to help our hosts prepare calamari, rigatoni pasta with wonderfully rich, slow-simmered Italian tomato sauce, fried eggplant, all to the accompaniment of that satisfying Sicilian lager icon, Messina beer, and closing with the juiciest watermelon I’ve ever tasted.  Their hospitality seemed endless; breakfasts that stretched into midmorning, leisure lunches (one involving three bottles of wine and subsequent naps), and a final dinner beneath the stars on their inviting patio.  We did contribute a few essentials - wine, cheeses, olives, and salami—but it was Nella and Santos who made every meal feel like a family celebration.

Len's Family Get Together
(Spot Maria & Paolo Anywhere?)

    The next evening, we joined Lenny’s extended family for a pizza party at seaside Punta Izzo, where some thirty relatives gathered at what appeared to be a naval R&R center.  Drifting through the sound of summer laughter were scents of salt, oregano, and dough.  I found myself seated next to Valerio, a recent high school graduate whose English far outpaced my halting Italian.  By the end of the day, with the sea breeze cooling the last bites of pizza, we were, as promised, thoroughly “rested and recuperated.”

With food never far from mind, our next adventure took us to the nearby fishing village of Brucoli.  We planned to enjoy dinner there and dressed as best we could from the limited options our suitcase wardrobes allowed, creases and all.  As the sun melted into the sea, and the sky flamed with a thousand shades of crimson,  

Al Castello Just Before Sunset

we arrived at the Al Castello restaurant to savor the freshest  Sicilian fish, kissed by olive oil and lemon.

The following day, along with our gracious hosts Nella and Santo, we drove south past the town of Pachino to the southern tip of mainland Sicily.  Our destination was L’Orto del Saraceno (The Saracen Garden) for lunch at a tomato farm.  We found it along a dusty road, one of many in a maze of netted fields.  The road wound endlessly, and I doubt I could retrace our route to get there.  I remember wondering … lunch at a remote tomato farm?  I like tomatoes in all their forms, but even for someone who enjoys pasta more for the sauce

L'Orto del Saraceno
More Than a Vegetable Stand

than the noodles, there is a limit.  I was wrong.  Sometimes, simplicity is the most beautiful, a kind of grace that excess can never touch.

As at our B&B, we were made to feel instantly at home.  Beneath a cluster of small shading pergolas, with the help of a precocious young girl, we were served a variety of dishes, all grown and prepared on site.  The meal included delicious Pachino cherry tomato bruschetta, beautifully prepared grilled peppers and eggplant, cheeses, sun-dried cherry tomatoes, fresh watermelon, and plenty of the best remedy for the sun’s shimmering heat:

Our Table of Hungry Travelers

chilled wine.

Our Garden Fresh Lunch Arrives

    And those tomatoes!  They deserve a closer look.  Relatively new, the first Pachino cherry tomatoes appeared in the late 1980s from an Israeli seed producer.  Slightly smaller than most other cherry tomatoes, they score 7–8 on the Brix scale, resulting in a concentrated sweet flavor.  These little jewels quickly put the nearby town of Pachino on the agricultural map.  By 2013, to protect them from imitation, they were granted a Protected Geographical Indication (PGI) status.  This ensures that only

Pachino Cherry 
Tomatoes on the Vine

those grown in this corner of Sicily can genuinely be called Pachino. ¹

Following our delightful lunch, we visited Isola della Correnti (Current Island Beach) for a swim just a short distance down the gravel road.  It proved to be undeveloped, somewhat unkempt, with few amenities, and inadequate parking.  We have seen this before at other beaches in southern Italy, in evidence of inadequate community funds.

I went into clear blue water, but couldn’t get far, because strong waves pushed me back.  The presence of the word ‘current’ in the beach’s title may offer a clue, especially since this is a churning place where, at this most southern point of Sicily, the Ionian and Tyrrhenian seas meet.  Seeing me floundering about, Maria Elena didn’t attempt to take the plunge and instead quickly sought shade when there was none.  Needless to say, we didn’t stay long because the scorching sun, incessant wind, and roiling surf were merciless.  Mare often says the sun is stronger in Italy, and just might add waves and wind to her speculative indictment.  

Surf and Sand at Isola della Correnti

Returning to the car, now well settled in the dunes, I felt the first chill of dread.  I’d made a terrible mistake.  It wasn’t that I’d parked poorly; we weren’t stuck in the sand.  That would have been a more straightforward fix than what I feared.  No, I’d made a much dumber mistake.  I left the car’s key fob in my swim trunks and went into the surf with it in my pocket.  I reached into my pocket, half expecting the thing to be gone, swept away by the battering waves.  I was surprised it was still there.  But while waterlogged and likely filled with grit, I suspected that with an unholy trinity of salt water, sand, and electronics at play, the fob was most likely dead.  Luckily, it hadn’t fallen out of my pocket in the pounding surf, but would it work after I’d done my unwitting best to pickle it in brine?  If it didn’t work, we’d be stranded: our phones, wallets, and rental paperwork with rental agency contact details locked inside the car.  Days of chaos loomed ahead.  This was all I could think of as I walked back to the car, wiping the fob like a relic, praying to the gods of technology.  Well past a litany of mea culpas and crossed fingers, I gingerly got behind the wheel, hesitant to find out the answer, and depressed the brake.  My hands shook as I pressed the start button.  The answer arrived when the beat of silence gave way to the soft hum of ignition as our computer-on-wheels came to life.  So did I.  A calamity had been averted, and my anxiety even sooner had I noticed the doors automatically unlock as I approached.  If they hadn’t opened, matters would have compounded—we’d have been stranded on the wrong side of convenience, watching everything needed for our rescue sit just out of reach behind tinted glass. Then and there, I resolved, at least for a while, to stick with placid swimming pools, absent any involvement with autos.

The Island of Ortigia Appended to Syracuse

    The next morning, our three days in Augusta drew to a close, we bid farewell to our gracious hosts and turned our sights southward, following the ribbon of coast toward the Isola di Ortigia.  Like a raft floating between centuries, Ortigia is a tiny island, a kilometer long and half as wide, tethered to the mainland Siracusa (Syracuse) by a handful of short bridges.  The moment you cross, time itself feels different.  Maria Elena and I had been here before, but its spell never fades.  Its romantic charm is a blend of old-world soul and bohemian energy that continues to draw artists, writers, and wanderers seeking something elusive.  For us, it would mean dreams remembered, a homecoming to special memories.  It was a treat to return to this living museum and share our haunts with our friends, and hopefully, in our wanderings together, uncover new ones.  Despite its size, it hosts fragments of Greek temples, soaring Baroque

Casa Daphne's Kitchen

architecture, medieval lanes, sweeping sea vistas, all animated by a vibrant Sicilian spirit.  

This historic site enveloped us with the briny scent of the sea, the tolling of church bells through sunlit streets, the murmur of voices over clinking glasses, serenading troubadours in the golden glow of limestone piazzas at sunset, and strolls along waterfront promenades past multi-million-dollar yachts (alas, none of whose owners invited us aboard).  Each is a part of a sensory symphony that contributes to shaping its quiet, timeless magic.  It’s no wonder Ortigia has never been abandoned.  Founded by Corinthian Greeks in the 8th century BCE, in living testament to endurance, Ortigia has been

One of the Luxurant Bathrooms

continuously inhabited for nearly 3,000 years.

We added a few days to that record with a stay at a B&B on Via Gemmellaro, located close to everything.  It was evident that our hosts, Mario and Jacopo, had put a great deal of thought into their creation, Casa Daphne di Ortigia.  They couldn’t do enough for us, beginning with meeting us and helping tote our luggage to our spacious and comfortable apartment, only steps from Via Cavour, a central artery in the heart of the city. 

Everything in this quiet accommodation had been thought of; it was spotlessly clean, well-equipped, and came with excellent advice on local places to visit, the best restaurants, and the assurance of easy contact if needed.  They went so far as to include

Inside Tratoria Archimedes

complementary drinks in the fridge, as well as a cake from Mario, a former chef.  It is easy to go overboard with praise for Casa Daphine.  Needless to say, if you are looking for a gem of a place to stay, well, here it is.

We quickly settled in, with time enough before heading off for lunch to push a few buttons and get a load of wash going to dry on our convenient rooftop terrace later on.  We took Jacopo’s advice and stopped at Trattoria Archimedes, only steps away from our door.  Upon entering and mentioning our B&B hosts, the waiter brought us to ‘their table’.  We enjoyed our meals so much that we found ourselves there once again during our stay.

At Table in 
Tratteria Archimedes

         

 At the city’s heart, at the end of Via Cavour followed by Via Saverio Landolina, lies Piazza del Duomo, in our estimation one of Italy’s most charming squares.  As the piazza’s name suggests, its focal point, the Duomo di Siracusa (Cathedral of Syracuse), rises on the bones of the ancient Temple of Athena, built in 480 BCE.  Inside, the breathtaking blend of eras and faiths is visible — massive Greek columns rise, embedded in the cathedral’s Baroque walls — in silent witness to ages of worship.  The square itself, ringed with elegant palaces, lively cafés, and the hypnotic lure of gelaterias, invites you to linger and watch the world go by.  The air hums with conversation, espresso machines hiss, and children chase pigeons through the shadows.  To sit here well into early morning is to appreciate the enjoyment of doing nothing.

Long before the cathedral and its piazza existed, Syracuse nurtured a restless genius of the ancient world, Archimedes (circa 287 – 212 BC).  You name it —mathematician, physicist, engineer, astronomer, inventor —he dabbled in all of it.  Legend tells of a day when the King of Syracuse, aware of Archimedes’ brilliance, sought his counsel.   The king, suspecting the goldsmith’s honesty, sought proof on whether 

Archimedes of Syracuse

he’d been cheated.  Had some of the crown’s gold been replaced with silver?  Archimedes pondered the problem for days.  How could he uncover the truth without destroying the masterpiece?  In the most human of moments, while lowering himself into his bathwater, he noticed the water rise around him and realized that the volume of water he displaced equaled the volume of his body.  If the crown displaced more water than an equal weight of pure gold, it must contain a lighter metal.  The revelation struck him with such force that he leaped from the bath and ran naked through the streets shouting “Eureka!”—“I have found it!”  The outcome?  Unfortunately, the story ends with Archimedes running through the streets, leaving us to wonder whether the goldsmith was guilty or not.  From that same brilliant mind came insights into buoyancy, levers, and mechanics—including his famous boast: “Give me a lever long enough and a fulcrum on which to place it, and I shall move the world.”

When Rome besieged the city during the Second Punic War, Archimedes designed catapults capable of hurling stones farther than anyone imagined possible, and cranes able to pluck attacking ships from the sea.  After years of resistance, the city fell to Rome.  In the chaos, an elderly Archimedes sat quietly in the dust, tracing figures in the sand, his mind still turning over problems more important to him than the fate of empires.  A soldier ordered him to come before

Archimedes Discovers Hydraulics 
in His Bath

his general.  Archimedes, absorbed in thought, merely murmured, “Do not disturb my circles.” The soldier, unaware of who he was, struck him down.  Thus, amid the fall of Syracuse, one of the brightest minds of antiquity, with less than a whimper, fell too.  I want to believe that his spirit endures, captured in every flute of the temple columns my hand had caressed. 

This kickoff to our two weeks in Sicily began with a miraculous car key fob that led to a thousand memories.  Now approaching the end of our stay in Ortigia, I thought about the Trinacria, Sicily’s three legs holding up the island, and how our stops thus far had each offered its own form of support: Augusta’s warmth, Pachino’s simplicity, and Ortigia’s endurance.  Together they form a tripod of memories, balancing history, friendship, and that unshakable joy of discovery.  Much like Archimedes’ circles in the sand, Sicily draws us back again and again, and with each return, a chance to discover something new, however small, and ‘move’ our personal world in ways Archimedes himself might have admired.  I couldn’t help but think that Sicily, with all her warmth and wildness, had done what she always does best: reminded travelers that life is meant to be savored slowly, one adventure at a time. 

From That Rogue Tourist,
    Paolo

1.      WoW!! Italian Food, http://www.wowitalianfood.com/pachino-tomatoes/

2.      Archimedes, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Archimedes

3.      The Red Gold of Italian Tables, Tomatoes, https://italoamericano.org/the-red-gold-of-italian-tables-tomatoes/