A return to Sicily

 

Sunday 28 August - Wednesday 7 September 2022

Nearly seven years, creakier joints and a pandemic later, I return to Sicily with fellow Italianophile (is there such a word?) Kim Goldsmith, in search of the sunshine that eluded Neil and I back in 2015 when we visited Taormina and left with webbed feet.

Well this time it didn't disappoint in terms of the weather - 30 degrees plus and brilliant blue skies most of the time, with only a touch of cloud every now and again. One of the great things about solo travel is that you have more time to devote to the blog, so I neglected to diary our activities every day. What I want to do before the mists of time makes my memories hazy is to note my impressions of Palermo and Siracusa, where we stayed for 4 and 6 nights respectively. 

We arrived in Palermo and caught a train from the airport to Centrale station, arriving early afternoon. 20 minutes' walk? we thought, we can do that. Was almost as bad as when I tried the same heroics to Prague station 7 years ago - cobbles then, broken pavements and no dropped kerbs to help the wheels this time. It was so very hot, and when we arrived at our apartment (avoiding potholes and dog poo), we then discovered that our charming apartment was up on the 3rd floor with no lift. That'll teach me that I should travel more lightly!! 

The large, airy apartment had quirky, arty features and was rather lovely - we never met our host but she kept in touch daily on WhatsApp and was very helpful. The image below was Kim's bathroom - mine was equally funky but had a spa bath where an incident occurred when I tried to take advantage of the whirlpool. Let's just say the switch got stuck and had we gone to Siracusa first (the birthplace of Archimedes), I would've remembered what happens when water is displaced. Thankfully the tiled floor didn't yield to the flooding which occurred....

After a trip to the supermarket, a lttle sleep and a near-drowning bathing experience on my part, we headed out to a recommended local restaurant Osteria Lo Bianco and had lovely cheap pasta (swordfish, aubergine and mint is a winning combo, and Kim's spaghetti norma was her standout dish of the holiday), very cheap wine and dessert for around 30 euros. Kim had a cannoli for dessert, which is like a crisp pastry canneloni tube stuffed with flavoured ricotta, delicious but I couldn't have eaten a whole one - later in the holiday we shared a deconstructed one which was a good compromise.

The next morning we went on a free guided walk around the old city (we were staying in the new) for 2 hours with a very entertaining and informed Palermitan called Marco Romeo - it was very helpful orientation and we learned a lot about local customs, culture and politics. Palermo has a reputation as the power centre of the Mafia, but apparently that's all a bit old hat now (the 1980s was the decade when they were at their height) - it also has a reputation for pickpockets and petty crime, but glad to say we saw no sign of it and felt safe at all times. 

And as for rice balls coated in breadcrumbs and with various stuffed fillings - in Palermo they are arancina and are round. In Catania they are pointy like Mount Etna and are arancino. In Siracusa they have both shapes and we saw both versions of the spelling...

We wandered around a bit after lunch and paid a visit to the Teatro Massimo, the big and beautiful opera house. Sadly (unlike the Palau de la Musica in Barcelona), we didn't get to hear anything that showed off the acoustics. 

The first gelato came from a recommendation down near the port in an unprepossessing spot but worth the walk. A wander along the boardwalk and home for the usual pattern of a shower and then apertivo on our lovely roof terrace as the sun went down.We discovered that Mondays can be a bit tricky finding museums and restaurants that are open, so in the evening we opted for Fud, one of Marco's recommendations, with a quirky food and drink menu with phonetic English spelling. The drinks were good, the food just passable and the service wasn't the best. 

On the Tuesday, we had arranged a visit to Palazzo Conte Federico, owned by a family whose ancestor was one of the illegitmate sons of an Emperor Frederick II. It's built on top of the old city wall and is still lived in - one of the sons of the present owner  (who's still racing cars at the age of 83, and the house is full of trophies) guided us around and was a charming and funny host. Lots of interesting and beautiful details, but it still felt lived in.

Lovely lunch in one of the many eateries on the Via Maqueda (we liked it so much we went back the following night as the service was very good too), a visit to a very disappointing and inpenetrable art exhibition and a lot of wandering about soaking up the atmosphere. Gelato from an award-winning gelateria this time. We had wanted to visit the English garden but it was a bit of a schlep even though apparently not far from our apartment, but our legs were finding it tough going, so we went home to rest up before venturing out again to another recommended restaurant Bisso Bistrot on Via Maqueda. Food and wine were delicious but it was cramped and pricy and not quite worthy of the queues to get in!

On Wednesday we visited Santa Maria dell'Ammirglio which was the usual strange mix of styles common in Sicily, having been invaded and occupied by so many different cultures. (Almost as strange as the Chiesa de San Cataldo next door with its red Islamic domes.) It's near the Fontana Pretoria, known as the Square of Shame, a fountain surrounded by lots of naked statues built by a mayor who wanted to emulate Rome, but heartily disapproved of by the nuns who lived nearby. 

I think some light shopping may have occurred after that, but after lunch at the apartment we then ventured out on the bus to the beach at Mordello, about a half hour ride away (much of it through woodland), and spent a very pleasant few hours on the sands, apart from being ripped off by a man selling beer and me forgetting my book and headphones. Gelato was the inevitable end to the afternoon before boarding a very very crowded bus home and a short walk via the pawn shop district (yes, the gold/silver kind of shop). Back into the old town for the evening to go for cocktails at a recommended bar, and back to Osteria Villena on Via Marqueda for a lovely dinner to round off our trip to Palermo. 

The next day after a rather hairy start getting the local bus to the bus station (which side of the road? which way?) we took a bus to Catania and then a short walk to the station to catch the train to Siracusa. A short taxi ride to our apartment on Ortigia island, which while a funky design, was short on home comforts and an example of style over substance. We were shown around by a lovely lady who spoke very little English but was always helpful during our stay - just as well she ran the shop next door, producing all things crocheted. A quick trip to the supermarket for supplies, and a check on swimming possibilities (limited, and there were jellyfish warnings) before settling in proper and washing the dust off before heading out for the evening.

First stop was a Mezcal Negroni for Kim and an organic local wine for me. We wandered for a while and Kim was excited to find a branch of her favourite costume jewellery shop. We chanced upon the Duomo looking resplendent flooded by lights in the square, and then went to a small courtyard restaurant for dinner which was relatively cheap with good service though probably unexceptional food. On the way home we chanced upon gelato and Kim's adventurous choice was mulbery and lime & basil. A little digestif near the non-food market (which sold toot most of the day) rounded off the day.

Next day we visited the market and had a bit of recce as well as buying supplies for lunch. In the afternoon we took the little open air hop-on/off bus to orientate around the city. Having established that the Circumetnea railway trip just wasn't going to happen because the public transport links just wouldn't work (I was gutted), and it would take too long to get to Ragusa, we settled on getting a bus to Noto the following day run by the hop-on/off company, and booked a boat trip for the Sunday. We ate on the sea front near the Fontana Aretusa - pricey location but good food.

On the Saturday we caught the little private bus to Noto (20 euros each return was reasonable), a pretty Baroque town an hour from Siracusa. We wandered about, visited the cathedral, had pizza for lunch and were plagued by flies as we ate (they were everywhere). We happened upon an exhibition of female-foocused artists at Noto's little art museum which was lovely. Gelato inevitably followed, and we caught the bus back and then went in search of a Caravaggio at a little church some way from the centre of Siracusa. I wasn't convinced it was the original (it's been moved about a few times) and it looked like a copy - turns out it wasn't, but it was just bizarre to see such an enormous painting (showing the death of Santa Lucia) close up without any security being present and without even a rail around it!

Dinner was at the quirky 1984 near the Fontana Aretusa - I had delicious swordfish and it was a really good choice. We found a funky place for cocktails on the way home by walking a different route, and still found time for gelato.

We took things easy on the Sunday, visiting the cathedral and wandering around the shops. We had hoped to spend the afternoon at the rather swishy beach club but it was closed for a private party so we sat on the tiny, crowded beach next to it and had a bit of a dip. We went to a small bar specialising in local craft beer before wandering home. We found a friendly restaurant not far from the apartment and had a good dinner, found a cool courtyard restaurant for the next night, with the inevitable gelato on the way home via yet another different route

On the Monday, after more wandering we took a little  boat trip around a sea cave and Kim had the chance to swim properly (I had discovered that not having full movement in my shoulder made anything other than bobbing around on my back a bit tricky 😞), but it was a pleasant trip with an amusing "captain" 

We wandered back via the Archimedes statue and the harbour - always taking a different route home meant we got to see some charming nooks and crannies. 

We went to the very lovely place we'd found the night before for our dinner, which specialised in gin cocktails and very fancy cicchetti - it was a bit of a blow-out but we did enjoy it.

On the Tuesday we had all good intentions of visiting Catania - but we got to the station to discover big queues for tickets. The train we were set on getting was actually bound for Rome so the ticket machine wanted names and details for the ship's manifest for the ferry across to the mainland and we just ran out of time, and there were no more trains for a couple of hours - we were disappointed but it gave us a good excuse to return to Catania for an Etna-focused weekend in future, including the Circumetnea railway.

We walked back into Ortigia and went to the Archimedes exhibition which was immersive and interactive - really informative and quite the genius, so you can see why the guy is a local hero. Final bits of shopping and wandering, lunch at the local cafe and then packing for our departure next day. We went for a beer at the craft beer place we'd spotted just across the bridge in Siracusa, and then walked along the harbour in the lovely moonlight to a little pasta restaurant we'd spotted in a square. They prided themselves on their eco credentials so plates were paper and cutlery was wooden - food was ok but not the best we had, but it was nice to end our trip eating outside on a balmy evening. 

We caught the bus to the airport the following day, having waited ages as the schedule appeared to be rather haphazard - thankfully we'd left plenty of time. Catania airport was chaotic - who on earth designed an airport where you had to walk through the security queue to get to check-in? Queues for catering and passport control on the other side weren't much better, and we had a long wait for the plane having panicked that we would miss it! Experience now tells me that much as I love Italy, I sometimes need to lower my expectations of a smooth public transport experience. Ciao Sicilia! 

A Stirling effort

 Sunday 20 September

The TV was working ok last night, but typically there was nothing on that I wanted to watch - thank goodness for iPlayer! The day dawned cloudy and stayed murky for most of the day, with a little watery sun in late afternoon, so not the best day for pics, especially during my post-breakfast walk when it was quite misty, with cobwebs of dew still on the ferns and vegetation in the forest. 

I headed along the shore walk and up through the woods that skirt the Balloch Country Park into the Faerie Glen, where I met with a babbling brook and a mini waterfall. Every now and again I came across a dog and a walker (always in that order), but it was very quiet. I followed the marked trail up to Whinny Hill woods, where the going got a bit tougher and the comfortable ash track petered out into mud - and eventually watery marsh, to my cost, or rather to the cost of my walking shoes and socks. 

The tourist map of the trail was way out of scale (though to be fair I missed the icon showing the marsh) and although a circular route it was quite long - 8 miles in fact, though I'd estimated it to be about half that. I walked for over two and a half hours and at one point did feel a little panic as the trail markers disappeared and I found myself in a part of the wood with multiple narrow trails, but I reasoned with myself that I had to keep going downhill towards Loch Lomond and all would be well! It was a really good walk though - a very solitary one for the most part. Thankfully my hotel was at the end of it, so I went to my room and recuperated a bit before heading out again.

By this time my old bones were creaking a bit, so I got in the car and drove off towards Stirling so that I'd see a different bit of the Trossachs. I swung by the Port of Monteith (sadly the promised priory was closed) and had a quick pitstop in Callendar which is quite a busy little town on a small body of water. The approach of a seagull led to me abandoning my very disappointing salmon sandwich, and I drove on to Stirling.

Stirling is very grey and the centre is mainly one big hill with the castle at the top. The new town centre is pretty much like any other - lots of shops were closed, and I'm not sure whether that was Covid or Sunday-related. The much-lauded Victoria arcade was pretty but almost completely closed, providing only a thoroughfare from one street to another - this very weird niche chocolate shoe shop  wasn't available for closer inspection either.

I had coffee and cake at The Burgh coffee house at the foot of Baker Street, the incline of which encouraged lots of pre-pubescent boys to skateboard or scoot down its length - fortunately they appeared to be quite adept at avoiding pedestrians but it would probably have scared your granny. I walked up through the old town which has old town charm though again mainly closed, including the Albany lodgings, though I could have visited the jail if I'd felt so inclined. 

The castle square has fine views of the surrounding area and you can see right across to the William Wallace monument. I toyed with the idea of visiting it but realised that it would be more uphill walking and really wasn't sure my poor old pins could stand the strain! I couldn't really get a decent photo of the castle itself as it faces away from the square - I'd already decided against visiting as I hadn't really left enough time. A momentary diversion was a handsome coach driver in a kilt - you can just see his leg at the front of the bus in this pic, but I was treated to a skirt-swishing full view as he dutifully disinfected touchable parts of his bus.

I headed back down to the new town and the car park and set off for Balloch via a different route alongside Loch Venachar and through Aberfoyle - very winding but very pretty. I enjoyed driving the Golf once I got used to the brakes. By the time I got back to Balloch it was almost 6pm and most of the day trippers had gone home. It's a busy place and although it's inevitably somewhat commercialised, it's nicely done and whether you're hale and hearty or not, it's a great and very pretty place to walk. 

The hotel is really more of an inn with rooms, and although I had some quibbles over the facilities, the staff were friendly and the food was good. I enoyed a roast turkey dinner and then went back to my room to pack with a last holiday glass of wine.

I'm writing this on the train going home. (I've just realised I've written it totally in the past tense, whereas other blog entries have been in the present - I guess because usually written on the same day.) I'm looking forward to being there, and feel like I've been away ages. I've driven over 700 miles these past two weeks. It's been a lovely break with some stunning scenery and places to remember and I'm lucky to have been able to get away. 

Travelling solo is quite freeing but I do miss company over a drink and an evening meal, and the current restrictions don't necessarily make it easy to strike up conversations with strangers. Also - doing all the driving, hauling luggage unaided, making all the decisions and doing all the thinking is quite tiring! I'm glad I've experienced the Hebrides, though am not sure I'd return - it's probably a little too culturally-bereft for me (though Covid has probably put paid to a number of opportunities I would normally have had), and with such soggy weather more likely than not, I'd rather return to the Trossachs I think, taking a closer look at Glasgow again. See you again next year Scotland - at the Edinburgh Fringe I hope. 

A tourist in the Trossachs

 Saturday 19 September

This weekend couldn't have been more different to the last. Apart from the weather with the lovely sunshine, it's the number of people. I don't think I had appreciated how close Loch Lomond was to Glasgow, as I'm quite sure that the city folk and their sprogs formed the bulk of the day trippers I saw today. (Social distancing - hmmm who am I to judge about extended families and bubbles?) You don't even have to drive here - Balloch has a train station in the middle of the village, and other rural stations serve the tourist hot spots. Signposting is good so attractions are easy to find, and small catering outlets and ice cream vans (which didn't look like they were selling drugs) make hay while the sun shines.

First world problems arising from overnight and my early ablutions in the form of complaints about my room. Not only do I have to walk slightly uphill to the bathroom, but I realised that the mattress/bed also slopes. My shower makes a noise like the scene in Psycho, which is mildly disconcerting. The hairdryer has a very short lead, you have to keep the button pressed down (pointless! pointless!), and it has a nozzle sitting with it in the drawer which is obviously from a completely different hairdryer. On the bright side, I think the TV has righted itself but the wifi on the phone still doesn't work. When I went to breakfast, I was offered coffee and orange juice and a menu for cooked items but also handed a brown paper bag containing muffin, granola bar, yogurt, apple and a can of water. All of which seemed superfluous, most of which I handed back thank you very much, and enjoyed my bacon sandwich.

Anyhoo, I decided to head off to Luss, a supposedly picturesque village on the Loch a few miles further north. I collected a filled roll from the cheery little shop opposite and got in the car, arriving there soon after 10am and not expecting to have to drive around to spot a parking space - which I did, and which I had to pay for - shock horror! It's a pretty enough village with quirky little houses, a couple of obligatory gift shops and a bunch of portaloos, evidently to cope with the hordes of people who'd had the same idea as me. Families were setting up their folding chairs on the shore or following the fairy trail, which forms one of the easy and accessible walks around the village. So many dogs and small children.

I decide to attempt one of the longer walks on the leaflet, but by mistake I turn off  the path to begin climbing Bein Dubh. I thought it was part of a walk, but it wasn't, and it's 642' high and I climbed about two-thirds of that wearing trail sandals, sweating like mad and got a very muddy foot (just the one). I was discussing with a couple who had paused at that point too whether we should attempt the last very steep bit, and then they mentioned car park tickets and I realised I would never get back on time if I attempted the last bit, so I turned around and went back down doing my best mountain goat impersonation. I only fell over once - slowly, on my bum - and was thrilled that I managed not to turn an ankle. I fear my knees may not wake up tomorrow. On the plus side, I got a workout and some colour in my cheeks.

By the time I got back to the village, it was super-busy and I felt a bit unsettled by the number of people and disappointed by the obligatory gift shops with their dearth of fridge magnets. So I decided to take myself off to Helensburgh, as recommended by the nice lady in the tourist office yesterday, and sit by the water, which is Gare Loch. The town itself is unremarkable, but people were making good use of the waterfront, so I found a bench and ate my lunch. 

On the way in I'd spotted a sign for the Hill House, a National Trust property, so I Googled it and when I found out it was designed by Charles Rennie Mackintosh I decided to pay a visit. I had wondered if it might be the birthplace of John Logie Baird, the inventor of the telly, who was born and buried in Helensburgh, but it turns out to be a house that Mackintosh designed and built for the Blackie family of publishing fame during the last century.

It's in a swishy residential area on the outskirts of Helensbugh and very close to the Upper station. The house itself is quite plain owing to its cement exterior - but Mackintosh's obsession with design rather than build quality means that the poor quality cement he used over equally poor building materials has led to the house needing major external renovation. So it's covered in a kind of bizarre giant cage, known as The Box, but you can still visit the house and gardens and you get to walk around the box and look out to a great view of the Loch. 

The rooms are wonderfully well-preserved, with a few repro items but with mainly originals. A very well-versed volunteer gave me lots of info and there were too many highlights to mention, but I was particularly taken with the lighting (originally gas, now of course electric), Mrs Blackie's boudoir and the drawing room fireplace. There's a lovely kind of glass-topped dark wood (rosewood?) card table with a decorated cross piece beneath, that was sold by the family to Andy Warhol and bought back again from his estate at a very high price. I had tea and a Rennie Mackintosh Empire biscuit (of course), had a wander round the lovely gardens, full of happy bees and fragrant roses, and bought a Hill House fridge magnet before heading back to Balloch. (I fear I may hit a fridge magnets crisis point when I get home as the volume of my travels and exhibition souvenirs mean you can barely see any white on the fridge freezer any more.)

Regrouped myself back at Balloch House, celebrated walking half a mountain or so with an ice cream from the nice chatty shop across the road, and set off for a walk along the river side of the shore and up to Balloch Castle country park. There's a small but fairly unremarkable castle at its centre, but the park itself is gorgeous and a fabulous community asset - so much space, beautiful woodlands, easy parking, a brilliant place for families to take a picnic and for kids to play in proper play areas. Well done whichever body manages it, but boo that the walled garden wasn't open - the castle I could understand, but I could only see the garden through the bars of a gate...

Back to the hotel to blog, wash my filthy feet (this takes some time) and to eat some very nice beef bourginon for dinner. This place must be a goldmine, but the manager tells me that it's been a bit too busy and that she's concerned the good citizens of Balloch and the surrounding areas aren't following the rules at the moment - she of course has a business to protect too which customers don't always understand. I've seen a lot of big groups today which I can't believe are two households, though of course here kids under 12 don't count which is probably sensible. I think tomorrow I may go a scenic route far from the madding crowd and go to Stirling for a bit of culture, history and maybe light shopping....