The Daze

The flight to Sicily was short, only about an hour long. As soon as the doors to the plane shut, a mad rush ensued, in which everyone shuffled around to find empty rows since there were so few people on the plane. After a few minutes of flight, the crew came around and offered snacks; I had a blood orange juice and biscotti. Throughout the flight, people kept standing up to stretch and meandering over to another row where friends were sitting. It seemed to me that everyone on the flight knew each other well, and this was a brief, suitable introduction to Sicilian culture.

Kenny met me off the plane in Catania. My plane had arrived a few minutes after the last bus to Siracusa, so we took a cab together and were there in an hour. Once I dropped my things in Kenny's apartment, we took off to wander the village streets. Kenny showed me all of the mythological and historical hotspots of the town, including the ruins of Tempio di Apollo and Fonte Arethusa. The streets were all lit by bright yellow lamps, and as we passed through the narrow alleys we could hear families shouting and laughing inside their homes. There were cats everywhere, placid when lounging, vicious when disturbed. We sat on a mass of rocks jutting into the Mediterranean and caught up on things since we last saw each other in London last month.

I should explain the geography of Ortigia, which I think is a part of what makes it so special. Siracusa is the mainland town, somewhat urban, and its architecture is fairly contemporary. Three bridges connect Siracusa with Isola di Ortigia, also known as Città Vecchia and Ortigia. It is, effectively, a sort of island, separate from the incessantly bustling mainland city. Cars drive through slowly and mopeds wend around every corner at terrifying speeds. At many of the village's doorframes are old Sicilian men smoking cigarettes and watching the passersby-what we in America would think of as the active pursuit of a whole lot of nothing. The main road, Via Roma is only a bit wider than the alleyways that stretch and loop off from it, and leads to grand piazzas fitted with cafes and local shops. The place is surrounded by water but there are no beaches to speak of. Much as I wanted to swim in the Mediterranean, I came to admire this quirk; I spent hours staring out at the bay and across the rooftops and even though little seemed to change but a few dinghies passing by and some pigeon feathers flapping, the view always captivated me.

from Kenny's balcony

Kenny had class in the morning so we got cappuccinos and croissants (with a choice of either Nutella, ricotta, or marmalade filling) and from there I wandered without aim for a few hours, until we met up at a cafe in the afternoon. I remember one moment really distinctly, when I was walking along the coast and an old man passed by me. In between us was a great heap of garbage bags left out on the sidewalk. He threw his hands up in exasperation, looked to the sky pleadingly, and carried on.

I crossed and recrossed the same small streets, seeing the same people standing in the same places each time. In two hours of wandering, I grew increasingly disoriented and tired, but I could not stop. I spent some time sitting in different places, but always felt compelled to continue exploring this small, strange, wonderful place.

Tempio di Apollo; can you spot the cat?

After Kenny was done with class, we ate arancini and then took the bus to Parco Archeologico della Neapolis in Siracusa. I have always been vaguely fascinated by Ancient Greece and Rome; by that I mean that to learn about those cultures is always interesting to me, but I don't seek out that information on my own. Kenny knew everything about the park, so hearing the old myths from him did indulge this fascination of mine. The park is also a vast natural space, and on a sunny day it was the perfect place to walk through.

Amphitheater where Plato and Archimedes once spoke and plays are still performed

The quarry of the park is now overgrown with lemon and orange trees. Similar to the effect of Tintern Abbey, I felt somewhat drawn back to memories of childhood when wandering through the ruins of an old place; a lifelong obsession with Lord of the Rings will do this.

On the way back into town, Kenny showed me what he called a postmodern cathedral that the local government funded and constructed in the middle of Siracusa; the project lasted from 1966 to 1994.

Santuario Madonna delle Lacrime

Inside the cathedral looking up

Later in the afternoon Kenny had class, so I stayed on his balcony sitting in the sun, drinking wine. Later, I called my mom just to let her know all was well, and she said she hadn't heard me sound so relaxed all semester. I think she's right, I hadn't been that calm for a while. London is always a bit hectic and with all the traveling I had done lately, I needed a good long siesta (which is not an Italian concept but is still applicable).

Fonte Arethusa

When Kenny returned from class, we watched the new Game of Thrones on his balcony. It was awesome.

The next day a similar routine of wandering and lazing in the sun unfolded. I think it was a daze I fell into, a cyclical pattern of aimlessness and rest.

Kenny took me to the local market, where we waited for sandwiches handmade by "The Scientist," Andrea, whose supply of cheese and meat and vegetables is baffling. We waited in line--all the while vendors shouting at passersby in the market--until it was our turn, and Andrea threw together whatever he felt like putting in our sandwiches. It was amazing to see someone just know what will taste great without a moment's thought. There were probably five different kinds of cheese in my sandwich, with salami and prosciutto, an unknown cured meat, a pepper tapenade, more olive oil than I could believe, all stacked between two halves of a baguette

Kenny begins the endeavor of eating the sandwich

I ate the enormous sandwich, or at least one half of it, on Kenny's balcony and stayed there in the sun watching the scenes below and out at sea. To take a trip and not feel obligated to go out sightseeing every moment is a great thing.

Later we had aperitivo with Karin, also from Saint Mike's. We went from dinner to have drinks at The Atrium, a bar that is popular with locals. Kenny and I tried to get a picture together there.

We couldn't get one with either of us looking normal so I'll settle for this one. 

I spent my last day in Ortigia attempting to find a place to swim. I thought since I'm surrounded by the Mediterranean here I should at least give it a try. The coast of Ortigia is strewn with craggy boulders and the shore is coated in small rocks and sharp glass. I really did try, but without success. I made my way back to Kenny's flat wearing only my swim trunks and shoes; passing by local men who wore parkas in the 75 degree sunshine proved an awkward experience. I caught one old man take a quick glance at my swim trunks, then widen his eyes and shake his head. This can't be too out of the ordinary for a Mediterranean village, can it?

Kenny and I watched the sunset from a rocky formation on the coast of Siracusa.

We walked back to the village from there, wandering down by the local docks. The town was beginning to light up for the night just as the sky turned dark and the shades of the sunset settled.

We had a final meal at a seafood restaurant where Kenny knows the chef. He had shown us a beautiful lobster that had come in that day; he was desperate to cook it but we told him we didn't have the stomach for lobster that night. He cooked it anyway and gave it to us free of charge with our meal of mussels and clams in pasta.

The next day I left in the morning to catch my flight back to London. On the way there I found this bottle in the middle of the street and just thought it was an unexpected sight.

I was sad to leave and held out hope that Mount Etna might erupt before my plane could take off; if ever there was a time when a French air controller strike should happen and cancel my flight, it was then. I wanted to stay a little longer in this wonderland, but my daze faded and I flew back to London (which was actually warmer than Sicily when I arrived). Interestingly enough, the plane back to London was packed with a group of older Brits who were on a tour of Sicily together; similar to the flight to the island, on the way back everyone seemed to know each other on board. I sat next to a very nice older couple and we talked the entire flight. It is always a great experience to pick a local Englander's brain.

This was probably my favorite trip I have taken so far. I did not expect to love a small Sicilian village after the great beauties Paris and Florence. But I did love my time there, and it was the best way I could have finished my brief tour of the continent.