Hipsters Ain't All Bad

Perhaps Edward should have stayed in Enna. His next overnight stay, in Santa Catarina copped the biggest serve he had offered since my hometown of Albany. Bad as our accommodation last night, the prospect is worse here-more fleas and more dirt-the chilly floor of red tiles looks as though it had never known a broom, and the filthy stained walls may have been ignorant of paint or whitewash since the house was built. 

The landlady, fat,dirty and cross, was in such an ill-temper, as the arrival of guests even, failed to molify, supper was tardily prepared. 

For our part, we had a delightful dinner with the ancient chef and a pleasant night apart from the chatter of naughty children. Breakfast was included via a voucher for a coffee and pastry at a nearby cafe and once that was consumed we set out to walk down the footpath of the winding road to Enna Bassa (the old town on the summit being Enna Alta) to book a bus for Agrigento. At the cafe opposite the Enna Bassa terminal we learned that they weren't selling tickets in advance "because of the coronavirus". This was the first real evidence that coronavirus was going to be an issue in southern Italy as well as the north. Presumably the bus companies didn't want to sell advance tickets that they would later have to refund if services stop. The cafe owner suggested we come back on Monday and buy a ticket then. 

Enna's castle from Enna Basso. A hearty stroll.

There was no way that we were going to walk back up the hill as Edward had done, so we took the bus. Once back at the old city we visited the Norman Castle of Lombardy. It was closed for repairs so we just admired it from the outside and then looked over the Roman Temple of Ceres. Both are at the peak of the summit and had amazing views in almost every direction. No one was going to sneak up on these guys. Both were deserted so maybe Enna still doesn't get a lot of tourists. 

The rock at Enna's summit upon which the Roman Temple of Ceres was built. Not much is left but it's still an awesome site. 

That evening the town centre was full of life and in contrast to last nights traditional Sicilian trattoria and meal we dined at a place on the main piazza,  called Pacco Mora. This was an ultra modern hipster establishment, specialising in avant garde vegetarian dishes but with traditional Sicilian themes. They had a tasting plate for two which contained such delights as a tiny bowls of chick pea and onion soup, little spinach tarts and an artichoke pate. They also had organic wines and interesting bottled non alcoholic drinks including a delightful ginger ale. I was prepared to pay big and leave unsatisfied but we struggled to finish it all and the bill came to no more than the previous night. Being of a generation that finds taking pictures of your food and  writing reviews about it, a bit odd, I don't usually do restaurant reviews but  I was so impressed that I was moved to write my second ever TripAdvisor review (my first being for the Glen Innes Caravan Park and associated Fish and Chip shop-visit them if you're ever up that way). The service was exemplary too. An owner waiter with good English  gave informative descriptions of everything and was definitely not dirty or cross.  I told him how impressed we were and promised to write a glowing review.  If you're ever in Enna, check it out.

I should mention that the much vaunted Italian cuisine is not all it's cracked up to be. While there are some delicious dishes available (we had some fantastic cannoli and the Sicilians make a delicious flaky pastry with ham, cheese and tomato inside), there is not much imagination or variety shown. Whether cheap or expensive, a tomato salad is usually chopped tomato with olive oil, salt and perhaps garlic sprinkled over it. A mixed salad is that with some lettuce next to it. I can do that at home guys.  Every pasticceria serves an identical range, only changing as you change regions. And restaurant menus tend to all offer similar things, very simply prepared.  I suppose having spent 2000 years or more developing their cuisine they see no reason to change. I've often reflected that one of the best things about Australia is that we take other peoples cuisines and make them better. In Australia Italian food is better than Italy. Chinese food better than China and Indian food better than India. So places like Pacco Mora are definitely worth finding. 

The Price Is Still Right

This morning we left Il Gattopardo and took the bus to Enna in the middle of Sicily. Edward didn't overnight at Enna but he did visit and as it looked to be a more attractive proposition than the towns he did stay at, we headed there. We started with a brunch at the very nice bus driver's cafe adjacent to the bus terminal, that we visited a few days ago.

The bus trip along a major highway to Enna took 2 hours and cost 14euros apiece. Edward had contracted with his vetturino, or carriage driver, to pay a total of 20pounds which is the rough eqivalent of A$1333 in modern money. He was accompanied by a French gentleman he had met on the ferry from Malta and this price was to include the entire trip from Messina to Palermo. The driver also had to cover board and lodging for them all. We were paying around A$80 a night for accommodation, A$70 per day in food and the bus and train fares totalled about A$80 each for the trip from Catania to Palermo so in fact our basic costs were almost identical to Edward's to cover this distance. We traveled much faster than him but spent longer in each destination, taking 8 days to his 9.

Edward spent his first night out of Adrano in Leonforte. He stayed in a dirty, comfortless-looking inn where he was tormented with fleas, and besides suffered much from cold. Perhaps a disadvantage of putting his driver Francisco in charge of hotel selection was that he opted for the budget inns.

The next day they approached the remarkable city of Castrogiovanni, once famous, under its ancient name of Enna with a population of 12,000 souls. (Today it's just over twice that.) Edward sent the carriage onwards to their next destination while he and his French companion turned off upon an ancient paved mule track that led directly up the hillside. He claimed it only took half an hour to reach the city where they then visited the cathedral (which again was patronised by pretty girls) and the Norman Castle which is adjacent to the famed temple of Ceres. They then made their way back down another mule track and met up with Francisco for a late lunch. They must have been fit because while in Enna, which has reverted to it's old name, we walked down the hill on a good footpath and that took at least 40 minutes and it took us 2 whole days to explore the town.

The view from Enna showing the slope that Edward walked up. The town on the hill in the centre  background is Leonforte and behind that is Etna

Travelling out from Catania the country became more agricultural than horticultural. Orange groves gave way to what appeared to be pasture and crop country. We were met at the Enna bus terminal by Francesca, proprietor of Il Nottempo at Via Colajarni 26, who conveyed us to her neat little apartment with no fleas and modern heating.

Once settled we visited a tour office that Francesca suggested could help us book a bus on to Agrigento. Our first visit with an older gentleman who spoke little English, produced, with the aid of Google Translate, the information that there were no buses to Agrigento. However, another visit later in the afternoon, when the desk was now occupied by a young man who spoke excellent English, provided the welcome information that there would be a direct bus to Agrigento on Monday but we'd need to visit the bus terminal at the bottom of the hill to book tickets.

Crispy in Crispi Square, Enna. Temple of Ceres in the background. Kind of them to name their ornamental town lookout after me

Armed with that information we booked a third night with Francesca and took a short walk around town before dining at another little mom & pop trattoria where once again dinner ended with what seems to be the standard complimentary shot of limoncello. Mom and Pop spoke no English but photos on the wall indicated that Pop had recently been awarded a certificate for 50 years service to Enna as a chef. Again with the aid of Google Translate, Trish was able to convey the information that her son is a chef in Australia.

Nottetempo translates as "at night" and we discovered at night that the only downside to Il Nottetempo is that the strectch of Via Colajarni outside our door is where a significant proportion of Enna's tweenagers learn to smoke. They seemed a harmless bunch but they kept us awake till nearly midnight with their merriment and chatter, every night we were there. Edward had commented that Castrogiovanni is not, I fancy, very frequently visited by foreigners; at least the curiosity with which we were regarded would lead to that conclusion; boys followed us, gaping and gazing, wherever we went. While the first tour agent's lack of English might have suggested that is still the case, the boys in our lane seemed far more interested in their fags, than us.

Bella Ragazza

Once again I started the day with an interview from ABC radio in Albany. Looking at the internet it seems that Australians are going silly with Covid19 fever, panic buying of all things toilet paper. What do they think they're going to do with that? Eat it? I was able to report that in Sicily things were much calmer. Life seems to be progressing as usual.

The first thing Edward reported on landing in Sicily was my feelings, or prejudices mayhap, were somewhat startled by observing two elderly gentlemen, of severe aspect and solemn demeanour, meet in the street, and with the utmost gravity deliberately kiss each other-no mere touching of foreheads or cheeks, but lip to lip, they treated one another to a smacking sounding kiss. This is still the case and even in this era of gender fluidity, it is still remarkable to Australian eyes. While they seem to kiss on the cheek, rather than lips, now, it is still a more intimate process that the Aussie man hug that is now common. As Covid19 awareness progressed the kissing did move increasingly toward the "air kiss" but at this stage it was still a close process. Men also stroll arm in arm here in a way that schoolboys did in my childhood (but as gender fluidity has increased-that seems to have decreased in Australia. Funny that.)

The Norman keep at Aci Castello

The prettiest girl in Aci Castello, atop the keep

From Gardino Edward traveled on to Catania. They stopped for lunch in Aci Reale where as usual Edward was alert to the girls whose beauty was remarkable. We passed to the west of Aci Reale on the bus to Taormina yesterday but didn't stop to checkout the ladies. As there is a Hop on, Hop off tourist bus that runs up the coast as far as Aci Trezza which is a little south of Aci Reale, we did that today. We stopped for lunch at Aci Castello which has a Norman castle keep on the waterfront. Edward must have pssed it but despite the fact that it's unmissable he didn't remark on it. (Not enough pretty girls?) At Aci Trezza there are some unusual volcanic rocks in the ocean which according to local legend were rocks thrown by Cyclops at Ulysses as he was escaping from Cyclops lair. (It's no wonder Ulysses took so long to get home, if he came past here on his way from Troy to Greece. He was well and truely lost.)

The rocks at Aci Trezza

In travelling about Sicily Edward often mentions the sulphur mining industry which was a major part of the local economy at that time. Today all that seems to remain are deserted mines and processing plants. On the Catania waterfront there is a significant new convention centre called The Chimneys. It is a renovated sulphur processing plant and retains many of the original chimney stacks. Having this in the middle of the city must have created significant pollution issues. 

Edward describes the coast as largely agricultural and while there are patches today, much of it is covered by the masses of apartment blocks of post war origin. From Catania, Edward had planned to travel on to Syracuse but rain had washed a bridge out about 13km south of town so he had to turn back and abandon his plans for Syracuse. We had travelled up this way from Pozzallo and clearly it was much wetter then because at present  none of the waterways were more than a trickle. 

In the afternoon we visited Bellini Gardens in Catania. It's a 7 hectare park that was a princes front garden, until purchased by the local council in 1854, just before Edward got here. We also bought some stamps to send a few postcards home. The stamps were 3.10euro each which seems exorbitant but they did at least feature a Modigliani nude. 

Dirty Deals or No Deals?

Andrew Collins rang me this morning to do a phone interview for his afternoon ABC radio broadcast, describing the impact of Covid19 on Sicily. I told him that apart from last nights English tourist, there doesn't seem to be much of an issue.

After breakfast we took the Metro to the station where the train that circumnavigates Etna departs from and rode that up to Adrano. Apart from substantial expansion of Catania with large suburban apartment blocks, the route is pretty much as Edward describes it over the lava beds of 1669; the lapse of 2 centuries has produced decomposition sufficient only to restore limited portions of the surface to the purposes of cultivation...the rougher portions produce only a straggling crop of prickly pears , with a few olive and fig trees. Nearly another 2 centuries on and it still like that.

Edward hadn't intended to spend the night in Adrano but they heard that a river 5 miles out of town was impassable so they decided to make camp. They strolled out after dinner in search of amusement and entering the chapel of the convent of Santa Lucia, we heard some excellent music. 
Afterwards...we found the old keep, occupied as a prison, and a dozen starved looking men incarcerated within it. These inmates told Edward that they had to provide for their own food, which the warder confirmed, and begged him for money which they received with expressions of gratitude quite out of proportion with the gift. 

Undercover photo of St Lucia Convent with persons of interest outside

On our visit the convent was locked and silent although a cafe out the front was patronised by a particularly large and somber looking group of older men-no women. Was this the Adrano Mafia the tourist official had muttered about, taking care of business? We were not going to ask. The old castle keep is now a museum and the signage within confirmed it had been a prison until 1958. Wonder when they started feeding the inmates?

Adrano castle prison museum

We had a nice lunch at a more friendly looking cafe which did cater to ladies and the prices indicated that this is indeed not a town burdened by tourists. After lunch we walked to a lookout on the edge of town which had a nice view over a river valley, presumably the river that had kept Edward here. We then reboarded the train to travel on to Randazzo which is round the back of Etna. The further we went the bigger the farms became and the more greatly developed the agriculture, including some healthy looking flocks of sheep that Edward's squatter's eye would have undoubtedly approved of.

After an hour's stroll round Randazzo we returned to Catania where we discovered that tourist's dream; a little mom & pop trattoria selling very basic, but authentic and delicious, Sicilian food at very basic Sicilian prices, including local red wine in a plastic bottle, at 5euro a litre! When we finished they pressed a home made complimentary limoncello shot on each of us and by the time we left, I was having difficulty walking in a straight line

The Most Lovely Scene In The World

Edward travelled south from Messina to Catania whereas we headed north to see the same sights. He took several days but we could do it in a couple of hours on the bus. He describes the scenery south of Messina as the most lovely in the world...every turn of the road brought fresh beauties to view, keeping us in a constant rapture of admiration. All that was required to perfect the loveliness of the scenery was sunshine but that we were not destined to enjoy. He was on the money about the view and luckily for us we were enjoying sunshine. We haven't seen a drop of rain in the 10 days we've been here. Good for us although not good for the locals as apparently this is a drought in what is normally their rainy season.

Edward describes that as they traveled they were frequently stopped by a well-dressed official in full military uniform who were ostensibly doing customs inspections as they were leaving one province and entering another. However, their carriage driver explained that if they made a small financial contribution to the official, the inspections could be dispensed with. Today, Italy is still blessed with a plethora of police forces. There are local and state police, city police, the ubiquitous Carabineiri national police and even a Finance Police who apparently investigate financial crimes. All carry prominent firearms and in Catania in particular spent the day rushing from one location to another on foot, horseback, motor bike or car, but with no especial purpose at their destinations. They still dress smartly too. (Maltese police, like British general duties coppers, are unarmed and I think it always makes a place seem much nicer when that's the case.)

Edward's first overnight stop was Gardino, a straggling, dirty little town close to the sea. Today it's full of cheap beach hotels and restaurants but still uninspiring. The attraction here is Taormina, an ancient town on a hillside above. Edward hired donkeys and after an hour's climbing by a narrow paved way, cut in zigzags up the steep acclivity, he was there. Our full sized bus valiantly made it's way up what I'm guessing is pretty well the same zigzag, skillfully making it's way up each zig and zag by hooting and crossing to the wrong side of the road, which cars coming the other way graciously accommodated.

View from Taormina to Gardino with Etna in background

In Taormina there is an ampitheatre with an amazing view over, the ocean, Gardino, Mt Etna and looking upward, to the castle of Mola. Edward had planned to climb all the way up to Mola the following day but the weather was bad so he called it off. Looking at the projected climb I suspect he was relieved by the bad weather. I was certainly relieved that as he hadn't gone, we didn't have to either. No one hires donkeys for the trip anymore anyway. Edward mentions buying a painting of the ampitheatre from the old custode. I wonder if some descendant still has it today because it is a striking and peculiar scene. 

Taormina ampitheatre with Mola castle on the central hill above

We had a stroll around Taormina and found hotels where Oscar Wilde and DH Lawrence stayed after Edward's time and we also found the site of some Roman Baths, also excavated after his visit. The bus to Taormina cost 8.30euro and while waiting for the bus at a particularly nice, and sensibly priced, bus drivers cafe next to the terminal (always follow the bus drivers for a good deal), we got chatting to a Polish uni student who had flown all the way to Sicily on a cheap fare of 20euro!

At dinner that night, we were entertained by a street busker playing guitar and singing old favourites. Edward often describes encountering street musicians playing traditional music in Sicily but this was one of the few street musicians we encountered and he was English. We were also approached by an English tourist who asked us if we'd heard that Covid19 had reached Sicily. Apart from a couple of German tourists wearing masks on the bus today, that's was the only sign that it's on the horizon at that stage.

What Coronavirus?

Had to get up early this morning to catch the ferry to Sicily but we awoke to an overnight email from Andrew Collins, a friend and fellow Albany Shantyman, who is a broadcaster with ABC radio. He asked how things were going with the Coronavirus (Covid19). Covid19 was on the radar when we left but only as an unusual virus in China. We had seen a couple of Italian news items about Carnival in Venice being halted but there were only 150 cases in Italy and all in the north so we hadn't thought much about it till Andrew's email. Nobody seemed to be reacting in Malta so I replied with that information.

Our ferry to Sicily left at 6.30am but boarding was an hour earlier so we had booked a 5am eCab down to the ferry landing. Malta doesn't have Uber ride share but they do have eCab which is a cross between ride share and ordinary taxis, in that you can book online or phone, nominate to pay cash or credit, and they calculate your fare on booking. Probably what Australian taxi companies should have done when Uber started to raise it's disruptive head.

The taxi went smoothly with a phone call to tell us they were 5 minutes behind. The ferry was a spacious modern fast catamaran that traveled smoothly at 60kmph. Signs proudly boasted that it was built in Tasmania (as all good medium size boats are these days). Our crossing only took 2 hours because the ferry lands at Pozzallo on the southern most tip of Sicily whereas Edward's ferry went to Messina. I'd googled Pozzallo and the top 10 things to do included beaches as 3 of the top 4, suggesting that in summer it might be a beach resort but otherwise not much else. The ferry offered a bus connection to Catania for another 15euro so we opted for that. I imagine that in Edward's time Pozzallo was just a little fishing village, with Messina a significant port, hence the ferry landing there, despite the extra distance. Edward sailed over a sea of glassy smoothness for about 18 hours. Our sea had a slight chop but the trip was uneventful. Our entry into Italy was easy with no customs or immigration checks, presumably as both Malta and Italy are EU nations, and we went straight onto the bus for another 2hours to Catania.

Southern Sicily was noticeably greener, more cultivated and with larger fields that Malta. They seem to grow primarily olives, oranges and artichokes and this was the case for large swathes of Italy. Arriving at Catania bus station we were immediately struck by how dirtier and rundown Sicily is than Malta. Attempting to get brunch at a cafe in the station we also discovered that the English speaking had run out too. And the service. The waitress gave the distinct impression that she would rather we were not there and reluctantly served us with the items we pointed out on the counter.

Thus refreshed we made out way on foot to Il Gattopardo House at Via Minoriti10. Edward stayed at the Albergo della Corona, of which I could fine no trace so we had chosen Il Gattopardo, a guesthouse in a centrally located 19th Century palace that would hopefully give some feel of Edwards's visit.

Part of the ceiling in the reception area of Il Gattopardo House

Once unpacked and settled, like Edward we visited the excavated ruins of the ancient theatre, Greek and Roman baths, and a large ampitheatre, all more or less buried beneath the successive streams of lava that have poured down from Aetna. Interestingly these are located in the middle of town. Walking down the street you come to an 18th Century building, You walk into that and then out into the remains which sort of take you by surprise. All of the museums in Malta had excellent interpretive signs in both English and Maltese and generally included free multi lingual audio guides in the entry price, a country that is taking it's tourist industry seriously. Sicilian museums are reminiscent of Egypt. The signs are often only in Italian and where translated, it was frequently into Manglish (mangled English) and audio guides, if available, came extra. (I know Australian signs are almost always in English-other than some places with significant Asian tourism, using Asian languages-but English is the world language now and most travelers use it.)

Catania's Greco Roman Ampitheatre

From this ampitheatre we strolled up to Catania's second Roman ampitheatre but on the way decided to stop off at at a "biological cafe" whose signage appeared to suggest they were specialising in vegetarian wholefoods. There were a number of juices on the menu but when we ordered a couple the poor young waitress, who spoke no English, looked like a rabbit caught in headlights. She had a quick conversation with the boss which I assume was in the spirit of "they think that because we're advertising as a juice bar, we might have some juice-aren't foreigners weird?" Then she headed off up the street and came back about 5 minutes later with some fruit. The boss meanwhile had been fetching a juicer from the storeroom and about 15 minutes later we got quite passable glasses of juice. Hipsterising the joint was paying off at last.

The second ampitheatre which is half buried under later buildings wouldn't have been seen by Edward because until the late 19th Century it had been completely buried under later buildings. Later we went to the local tourist office to find out how to get a bus to Aderno, which since 1929 has been known as Adrano, the next town on Edward's itinerary but when we asked, half the staff of the office recoiled in horror. "Why do you want to go there?" they chorused and Trish swore later she heard one of them mutter something about Mafia. When we explained our reason they accepted it was valid but explained it won't be possible to get local buses from village to village as I had hoped, as all buses now radiate out from the major centres. However, they suggested that a train that entirely circumnavigates Mt Etna and is popular with tourists, passes through Adrano so that would be our best bet.

St Agatha's Cathedral Catania

While Malta does observe the afternoon siesta to some degree, with some places closing between about 1.30-4pm, it is scrupulously followed by much of Italy. Thus we had to wait to 4pm to visit St Agatha's Cathedral in the centre of town. Like Valletta's Cathedral it is decorated with many religious paintings but is nowhere near as ornate.

It's All Good Fun Until Someone Looses An Eye

While the main Carnival celebrations take place in Valletta, other towns have their own festivities so today we took a bus to Hamrun, just a couple of kilometres from Valletta to see what a smaller celebration was like. A number of floats and dance troupes from Valletta had made their way to the Hamrun Carnival but they also had a several brass bands. When we did our walking tour the guide told us that since the time of the British, brass bands had become an important part of Maltese society. There are a number of band clubs and on Sunday mornings, men (mostly) resort to these to drink, gossip and occasionally practice. (I'm in the Albany Shantymen and this sounds like our Tuesday evening sessions.) As with the dancers the bands seem to like Sweet Caroline plus Hollywood show tunes and Beatles numbers.

Hamrun brass band drum section

The bands were taking it in turns to play outside Hamrun's central church which was having it's normal Sunday morning service. Perhaps the thick stone walls kept the sound out but when the few parishioners came out at the end, they didn't seem put out. Carnival definitely had the numbers over church so perhaps discretion was the better part of valour.

Trish had noticed a rather attractive white iced cake with glace cherries featuring in cake shops all round Malta so at lunch we thought we'd try a slice. We'd assumed it was a regular traditional favourite but the waitress explained it is Prinjolata, named after and made from pine nuts, and made especially for Carnival. The cafe proudly announced by a sign that their Prionjolata was house made but we weren't overly impressed. The icing was too sweet and the cake somewhat dry so once a year is probably enough. Our lunch was a baked rice, like a savoury rice pudding and that was nice.

One difference between Carnival today and 1855 is that then the only approach to anything like license, consists in a general throwing of sugar plums (sugar coated almonds); every person carries a bag or pocketful of these, and discharges them by handsful at the heads and faces of all whom they feel disposed to notice in this way. The ladies generally expend upon the men all their favours of this sort, while the men of course pelt away at the women. I myself became engaged in one or two such sharp contests of this kind, that when the Carnival was over I was obliged to treat myself to a new hat.  Today a few shops and cafes (such as the elegant Cafe Cordino) have displays of big glass jars of sugar plums but we saw no-one throwing any. Given the consequences for Edward's hat, it is likely that modern OH&S rules have put this practice off the agenda. A plum that destroys a hat, could put an eye out.

Carnival floats lit up for the evening

In the evening we did a bit more rampart strolling and once again watched the floats, lit up for the night making their way up and down the narrow streets. Each float is pulled by a tractor covered in with plywood to make up a moving disco sound desk complete with DJ playing modern music (and the ubiquitous Sweet Caroline) at deafening volume.  Given the size of the floats, each is accompanied by a team of minders checking to make sure it won't catch on overhead power lines, take out overhanging signs or awnings and guide it around some very tight corners.

Once we'd had our fill of Carnival we repaired to a cafe called Cheeky Monkey, run by a garrulous South African, English man who'd found South Africa too chaotic and England too cold. He wasn't worried about Brexit sending him home because he now has Maltese residency as well. Cheeky Monkey's main claim to fame is a table with ceiling mounted swings as seats at one of the tables
so we enjoyed a novel final dinner in Malta as we are taking the ferry to Sicily in the early hours of the morning.