Sojourn in Sicily
By Caroline M. Jackson
The shrill
noise emanating from my travel alarm clock pierced the darkness and as I
fumbled to silence it, my saggy mattress unceremoniously propelled me onto
the hard floor. Minutes later, my husband and I, flashlight in hand,
gingerly crept down the staircase from our rooftop abode in our Maltese bed
and breakfast. Just as we unbolted the heavy front door, a loud horn blast
alerted us to the arrival of our mini bus which would transport us to
Valletta, Malta’s capital city.
From this
small island smack in the middle of the Mediterranean, we were heading north
on a daytrip to Sicily. By 6.30 am, we had cleared passport control and
boarded the sleek catamaran which would make the crossing in an hour
and a half. Operated by Virtu Ferries, the three-year old Norwegian-built
catamaran more closely resembled the interior of an aircraft than a ferry.
Expecting a great view after sunrise, we plunked ourselves on seats facing
the sloping draped windows at the prow. Minutes after our departure, I asked
one of the uniformed stewards if we could open the drapes, only to be told:
“You wanna seea the insida of a wava and get sicka?” Remembering the
apostle Paul’s experience of getting shipwrecked in a storm off Malta, I
meekly returned to my seat. Beside me a row of Finnish passengers were
tucking into exquisitely packed boxed breakfasts. I unpeeled my banana and
began to read my travel guide. Separated from mainland Italy by the Strait
of Messina, triangular-shaped Sicily was named Trinacria (Greek for three
points). Eighty-three times bigger than Malta, Sicily is 175 miles wide and
110 from north to south.
By 8.30 am our
catamaran had arrived at the quaint Sicilian village of Pozzallo which
is nicknamed women town because so many of the men are at sea working on
cargo ships. Being part of an organized tour, we were shepherded onto six
modern tour buses and divided into groups according to nationality. We
headed for the British/Australian bus which was hosted by the bubbly
Francesca who had a winning smile and a personality to go with it. With an
early rise, most passengers were hungry so we pulled over to the beachside
Café Mesaverde which sold the most delicious custard croissants and café
leche. As we strolled along the beach, I could feel the intensity of the
Mediterranean sun. It was already 28 degrees and this was late October.
As we drove
northeast towards Mt. Etna, I was pleasantly surprised by the beauty of
Sicily. Somehow I had erroneously envisioned it to be a dusty, dry place.
Instead, the roads were in excellent condition and the countryside was well
cultivated and swathed in well-tended vineyards. Cactus groves abound and
the fruit of the prickly pear is harvested for jam and liqueurs. Throughout
the year Sicilians celebrate their agricultural harvests with pagan feasts.
Depending on the season, they have feasts of the tomato, onion, chestnut,
pistachio, almond, olive, ice cream, bread, honey, eggplant, peach, tuna and
octopus. A tree that was unfamiliar to me was the abundant carob tree which
was introduced to Sicily by the Arabs. Its dark brown fruit is used in
cosmetics, as a medicine for stomach problems and for chocolate.
Interestingly the seed of the carob was used to buy gold and diamonds and is
the origin of the word karat as one carob seed equals one karat.
As we neared
the coastal town of Catania, the massive outline of Mt. Etna hove into view.
Italy boasts five other active volcanoes the most famous being Stromboli and
Mt. Vesuvius of Pompeii fame. At 3350m, Mt. Etna is the highest and
most active volcano in Europe with more than 130,000 recorded eruptions. A
decade ago, one of them claimed the lives eleven tourists.
Walking around
the barren lava deserts and climbing upwards, I was glad I had brought good
walking shoes and bottled water. Against the skyline, I could spot three
craters one of which was capped in white sulfur. Presently the lava is going
into the Valley of the Ox, a natural volcanic depression that acts as a
container. In daylight, all we could see was rising steam but at night on
the return journey, we could clearly see the pencil thin red river of lava
coursing down the mountainside.
Our last stop
was a visit to the exclusive resort of Taormina which is perched on cliffs
250m above the Ionian Sea. Popular with the British aristocracy in the mid
1800’s, visitors have included Elizabeth Taylor, Richard Burton and Sophia
Loren. After picking up a free map at the tourist office, I headed for the
Greek Theater which dates from the 3C BC but was remodeled by the Romans.
Wilting under
the heat emanating off the hot stones, I headed for the town park - Giardino
Trevelyan – which was gifted by a Scottish lady, Florence Trevelyn. The
walk along the shaded terraces afforded spectacular views over the ocean and
the tempting exotic beaches below.
Back in the
centre of town, the piazzas and streets were everything one would have
dreamed of in Italy.
Classy
air-conditioned wine boutiques, art galleries, colorful ceramic and gift
stores, gelatos galore, bistros and elderly people sitting in the shade
outside the church entrance.)
I wanted to
tarry over my cappuccino, then remembered Francesca’s warning: “
You missa my bus, you swimma 55 miles backa to Malta, eh?” We knew
she meant it and a few hours later when our catamaran approached Malta under
a full moon, I noticed no-one was missing from our group.
Contact
information:
Our daytrip
from Malta was organized by Oasis Tours.
The ferry
company is Virtu Ferries http://www.virtuferries.com
Malta Tourism
Authority: http://www.visitmalta.com
Italian
Tourism: http://www.italiantourism.com
Sicily
Tourism: http://www.sicilytourist.net
Getting there:
We took a
transatlantic flight on Lufthansa, then connected through Frankfurt for a
non-stop flight to Malta. http://www.lufthansa.com
All images by
Hamish M. Jackson
