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 Casrtelmola

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