Drying Washing Like the Locals

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We wake up late and hungry after the stress of yesterday's travel. We assume that there’ll be a supermarket nearby, but the Google machine seems to suggest otherwise. It tells us that there are some "Italian grocers" on the island, but we suspect that these probably aren't going to sell Corn Flakes. The nearest supermarket seems to be a couple of kilometres away, and it‘s off the island.

I set off. It’s been raining, and it soon starts again, so I take shelter under a balcony. I‘m quickly approached by an African street vendor who wants to sell me an umbrella, and a few minutes later by another, and then another, all trying to sell me rain protection. They seem to be very good at knowing what you need, and having a large supply of it readily on hand. Yesterday when it was sunny all they had were sunglasses and hats.

The Google machine’s “Italian grocer” is a large fruit, vegetable and fish market in the street outside a shop that seems to sell mostly wine, pasta and olive oil, and I’m sensing that my search for the elusive packet of Corn Flakes is not going to end here. I cross the bridge onto the mainland and trudge on towards Siracusa itself. I‘m now a couple of kilometres from Ortigia and I'm not entirely sure I know how to get back. I see a shop across the road that looks from a distance like a hardware store, but on closer inspection it proves to be a supermarket. The Italian word for supermarket is "supermercado", but there's no sign on it that looks anything like that. I wonder why there are so few supermarkets here, and why even the ones that are here have chosen to carefully disguise themselves as something else. I wonder if this is a cunning plan by Ortigia's restaurateurs to make sure that everyone who lives or stays there always eats out. I hope that the bottom of the harbour isn’t littered with the bodies of those foolish enough to have tried to buck the system.

I think Issy‘ll probably be getting a bit worried by now, and I haven't brought a phone with me to call her. I get back to find that she is indeed relieved to see me. She says that she wasn't quite sure how the Carabinieri might have reacted to "my husband went off to look for a supermarket a couple of days ago and I haven't seen him since".

We have breakfast and set off exploring. We walk along the waterfront, and try to identify our apartment. Now that we know what an apartment in an old building looks like from the inside we start to wonder about all the other ones. Ours looks very old and tatty from the outside, but it‘s actually very nice. We walk through the ancient historic courtyard garden that we tried to drive through yesterday while people were yelling at us. We couldn't have driven into it today, because there‘s a vendor's hat stall blocking the way .... if only it had been there yesterday. Some of the historic ancient paving stones are broken, and we wonder if they were broken before we drove over them.

We pass a very small yellow sand beach with quite a few people swimming off it, and continue on past a group of waterfront restaurants. There‘s a fort at the southern end of the island, but it seems we can't go in because it‘s a military area. It feels like a slightly strange place to be hiding missiles. We cross over to the eastern side of the island, which faces the open sea. We pass some "solariums" which seem to be either very small beaches, or rocks or platforms for sunbathing. One of the busy platforms is supported entirely by scaffolding. It looks like a building site only the workers are all in bathers and they’re all lying down. I hope it’s not really a building site. The people here seem to be very resourceful when it comes to sunbathing. We walk along the promenade about ten metres above the sea. It doesn't look overly rough… well it didn’t until a wave suddenly washes up over the railing and drenches us. It‘s overcast and humid, so at least we now feel a lot cooler.

We head back towards the middle of the island past the ruins of the Temple of Apollo, which we read dates back to the sixth century BC. We stop for a drink and wind our way back through the backstreets to the Piazza Duomo. The entrance to our apartment is directly off this massive and spectacular square, which is surrounded on all sides by ancient buildings, all of the same style and colour. The most spectacular and prominent is the Cathedral of Syracuse, or the Duomo Di Siracusa. Issy goes back to the apartment for a rest while I visit the Cathedral. The facade‘s stunning. I read that there‘s evidence of a temple on the site from prehistoric times. The Greeks then built the Temple of Athena here in the fifth century BC, supported by Doric columns. These were subsequently incorporated into the current structure when it was built in the seventh century. It was converted into a mosque when the Muslims conquered Sicily in 878, but was then turned back into a church when they were driven out in 1085. The current facade was added as part of reconstruction works after a large earthquake in 1693. Some of the original 5th century BC Doric columns are still evident in the current structure.

We put a load of washing on before we went out. We decide that if we want to live like locals we should do what they do, and hang our wet clothes up to dry on the line on the balcony overlooking the waterfront. To be truly Italian we need to make sure that all knickers, bras and underpants are particularly prominently displayed. Having done this we should now be eligible for Italian citizenship.

We dine at a restaurant in a square next to the Piazza Duomo, and as we wander home we stop to admire a street performer juggling fire sticks in front of an enthusiastic audience in the Piazza.

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Photos

The courtyard garden that we drove through yesterday
If only the hat stall had been there yesterday

'Solarium', Ortigia
Note the scaffolding

Duomo Di Siracusa, Ortigia
Original Greek Doric columns from fifth century BC