Tyrrehenean Sea

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Before we start into the week’s activities, let us say we are fine and many hundreds of kilometres from the devastation in l’Aquila which is in a deep valley between two spines of the Appenine range. The news is on Italian TV all day and there is still much to do to get to the outlying villages reachable by narrow roads that are blocked. Our hearts go out to the people and families of the area.
In the meantime we have travelled by sea from Sicily to Tuscany (Pisa, Wednesday night) and the news is still of aftershocks in the area but we are not planning on going closer than Siena for the next week or so.

It was another night of opera favourites and pasta at our very pleasant beachfront apartment hotel, near Agrigento on the side of Sicily that faces Africa. It was pouring a warm rain in the morning with the sirocco still blowing but by the time we checked out we were under blue skies for our delightful drive west along the lovely south coast of Sicily. Green rolling hills, olive and orange groves, abrupt cliffs, a riot of yellow wildflowers everywhere. And, it was warm! Shorts and sandals, languishing in our packs, were broken out. We made our way to Selinunte, another site with Greek temples of a similar age as those of Agrigento. This vast site was a pleasure to visit in the warm sun next to the shore.
Then we were off, north, across Sicily to a beach on the Tyrrhenean Sea near Castellamare del Golfo west of Palermo. We checked into our beachfront hotel. In minutes, with the sound of waves gently lapping the shore, Darla was on the balcony soaking up the sun with a very large smile on her face. If a discouraging word must be mentioned, the weather has not kept pace with our expectations and some of the troops were suffering from a serious deficiency of Vitamin D - henceforth to be known as Vitamin Darla. This was about to change!
The land here is in the shape of a horseshoe with steep craggy mountains some 1000 metres high rising from the sea at the tips of the horseshoe while in the middle of the shoe there are intensely farmed rolling fields and abrupt ravines. The view from the balcony of our hotel is of azure sky, aquamarine water gently lapping the shore, fine yellow sand and distant verdant mountains. However, the hotel is empty. Seems we are the only idiots wanting beachside accommodation at this time of year and especially in this particular year which is being deemed ‘too cold, too much rain’ by the locals. Never mind that the wisteria is in full bloom, in this beach community all the houses are closed.
We had supper in the hotel the first night - the only couple in the dining room room. The food was good although we can’t seem to remember what we had and the service was rather indifferent. We decided we would look farther afield in future.
The crisis between our two different visions of holiday erupted the next day. I wanted us to get in the car and go explore the archaelogical sights, climb the mountain trails and walk the narrow streets like we had been doing for two months. However, Vitamin Darla wanted to simply lie in the sun on the beach or on our balcony and do the unthinkable - nothing! The compromise was for me to spend an hour lazing on the beach with her and then I took off in the car alone for the first time on our trip. I drove to Castellamare del Golfo, the next town, known for its picturesque beauty and excellent beach. Turns out, we were already on the beach but the town is exceptional. I never found Tourist Information but I wandered the stone-paved streets and found myself down at the wharf where some two dozen fishing boats were tied up. These are mainly small open boats with the odd ‘doghouse’ of a cabin. Some of the boats actually contained a grizzled old fisherman mending a net or drinking a beer with another old salt in an adjacent boat.
Nearby, on the large wharf, was a hotel or two, a huge old fort and some restaurants. One of the restaurants was full of people obviously enjoying themselves. Waiters were emeging from the kitchen with four and five plates at a time. Crisp bottles of yellow-white wine were being popped. A glass case with dozens of fish, octopus, oysters, calamari and other sea creatures was outside for one to peruse.
A not-so-subtle plot began to form in my little brain and lonely heart...could Vitamin D be tempted from her sunny perch by an ocean perch and a glass of wine - at 2:00 o’clock in the afternoon? We normally ate very little during the day and saved our appetites for evening. However, Italians eat a big meal in the middle of the day and then do it all over again in the evening. For this to make sense, they close all the shops at 1:00pm, eat the big meal and then sleep it off until 4:30 when they go back to work. Shops close again at 8:00pm or so and they go out for supper around 9:00 or 10:00pm - bedtime for old geezers. It seemed time for us to try the big meal in the middle of the day.
Darla was thrilled to be ‘taken out for lunch’ when I presented the idea. We drove back to the restaurant and it was even busier than before. Our waiter looked like Phil Esposito. We decided to stick with a large shared beer rather than the wine. We ordered Spaghetti Siciliano, described as a ‘pesto’ of tomatoes, parsley, garlic, oil, and pinenuts. It was divine...gentle flavours adding up to a sum worth more than the parts. We had a salad of small fresh tomatoes, red onions, plump green olives, minced carrot, herbs and oil. Seemed like the red onions had been marinating in the oil for a while as they were soft.
I guess we were hungry as we each ordered a secondi. Darla ordered a dish of fried calamari and three large whole shrimp and I had grilled sword fish. Each dish was excellent. We staggered out with distended bellies around 3:30pm and began to wonder what to do for the rest of the day. A nap seemed in order. Darla got to sleep in the sun while the bed was just fine for me.
As the sun moved toward the tops of the mountains we decide to drive to Erice, a mountain top stone village and Unesco site of unparalleled beauty. The light from the low sun was magical as we drove through green valleys climbing to red gray cliffs. Erice is a very abrupt 1000 metres above sea level. We started up endless switchbacks. Soon it was cloudy and then we were in a deep fog. The irony was that we had decided to go on this drive to see the sunset. We drove through the empty grey stone streets and didn’t bother to stop in the gloom. Another twisting road led down to Trapani, a large city on the west coast of Sicily, and, on a lark, we took it. At about 500 metres above sea level, Trapani emerged from the gloom - a vast yellow-white city next to the sea with the famous salt flats shimmering in the distance. We braved the city traffic, found our way to the expressway and in less than an hour we were home again sipping limoncello on our balcony listening to those noisy waves.
The next day was cloudy so we decided to see the famous Norman Church at Monreale on a hillside south of Palermo, some 75km away. The guide books insist that one should not drive in Palermo and we now know why. They certainly are a rather insistent bunch of drivers leaning on their horns, cutting you off and ignoring all common courtesies. We found our way through Palermo and up the hill to Monreale. The church would not open until 2:30pm, we were informed by sign language by a little old lady on the street - and then she begged a euro from us. What to do for an hour and a half? Frommer’s guide book of expensive travel ideas suggested Taverne del Pavane as the only place to eat in Monreale...what the heck....
We started with a small beer to share and some sharp, deep-fried cheese. Darla chose a pasta with a ‘ragout’ of tomato, mushroom, black olives and a wonderful hint of anise. I am always on the look-out for lamb and this menu failed me again but the item Stinko de Maialle al Forno caught my eye. Thumbing our little pocket Italian dictionary I found out Stinko meant ‘shinbone’ and maialle is pork...pork hocks - one of my favourite meals. It was succulent and tender with hints of rosemary and came with a rash of grilled green onions. We staggered out in time for the church to open.
It is more a cathedral than a church and although drab outside, the inside floors, walls and 60 foot ceilings were all done in intricate, breathtaking mosaics of biblical scenes. It was one of those many travel moments one has in Italy where one realizes one is in the right place at the right time. These Normans were quite the dynasty successfully invading England in 1066 and then, in the next 100 years, fighting their way to the Holy Land conquering Sicily on the way and building this and other incredible monuments.
We drove home the ‘short’ way through the mountains rather than back down through Palermo and along the shore. Trouble was, it was foggy - thick, peasoup fog! My eyes were bulging trying to penetrate the gloom. That pork hock started to creep up on me demanding I sleep so my body would have the energy to digest the massive beast. I started to get dizzy and finally asked Darla to take the wheel. I sank into the passenger seat and fell asleep in seconds while Darla wound our way through the mountains and finally, at a lower altitude, the fog cleared and we could see the whole horseshoe valley. Obviously, this eating a big meal during the day was going to take some practice.
We parked and walked through Alcamo on the way home. Seems there is no such thing as a small town in Sicily. The centro storico or historical centre is quite large, there were at least ten churches and the remnants of a fort. Touring the fort we found it partially converted into a puppet theatre. Puppet theatre is big in Sicily and we will enclose some photos to show the extent of the endeavour here. There were at least 50 puppets and a half dozen themes or lines. The puppets are some 30 inches tall and of very fine detail.
I wasn’t hungry for a long time after that pork hock - kind of like the snake swallowing the frog. When we eat during the day we are not hungry at night and just walk on the beach or sip wine on the balcony listening to the waves. Sky TV has an opera channel and we are hoping the new neighbours don’t mind us blasting it.
I went driving up the coast to Scopello the next day. It’s a little stone village, almost mythic around here, a lived-in historic site. Beyond, the road ends toward the tip of the west side of the horseshoe and one can take a walking path through a nature preserve to the point and get as close as one can to Sardinia without getting wet. It was another impossible azure and aquamarine day although the sirocco had gone and we were into a northerly flow with a bite to the air out of the sun. I got my photos and was back at the hotel at 1:00pm to get my girl. We returned to our restaurant on the wharf in Castellamare del Golfo. We figured we could dispose of a full bottle of the local, crisp-looking Bianco de Alcamo in the middle of the afternoon and live to tell about it. We started with a primi of spaghetti with mussels, parsley and garlic. The pasta water and the mussel water made a clear, slightly thickened sauce that had me scraping the plate. We decided on fresh, grilled fish for secondi. The waiter took me out to the fish display case in front of the restaurant. I chose a little fish because it was 45 euros/kg. They grilled the little creature and brought him with some fries and another Sicilian salad. We ate every morsel in a haze of vino bianco. Phil Esposito came out and cleared the plates. We found our way back to the hotel and did not emerge until the next morning. As mentioned earlier, this eating in the middle of the day takes practice.
The next day, Vitamin D offered to accompany me to Segesta, an exceptional Greek ruin a half-hour away by car. Under a hot sun and blue skies we drove through fields of grape vines and olive trees, marvelling at the industry of the Sicilians, and that they had obviously been doing this for 7000 years. We were a bit late and seven tour buses had already arrived, however, most of the busses had brought Italian middle and high school students which only added to the fun.
The temple was jaw-dropping and awe-inspiring. We couldn’t help but make the connection between those that built the temple and their descendants in today’s Sicily...hard-working, industrious, fun-loving, food-loving people.
After Segesta we took the road to Trapani, again, and the salt flats in the harbour. They still make salt the same old way - let sea water into a shallow lagoon; wait while the sun beats down until all the sea water has evaporated; shovel out the salt crystals left on the floor of the lagoon. There were huge mounds of salt that needed bulldozers, front-end loaders and tractor-trailers to move around. We went to the salt museum which, fortunately was also a trattoria (restaurant). We shared a beer and the antipasto special which included the local crusty, sesame bread, green olives, pecorino cheese, dried tomatoes, fresh tomatoes, sardines and caponata. Caponata is a dish, served at room-temperature that is Sicily all in itself - eggplant, onions, tomatoes, anchovies, olives, pine nuts, capers and vinegar, cooked together in olive oil.
After lunch we could see from the salts flats in Trapani harbour there were no clouds hovering over the mountain of Erice so we decided this was our chance. There was no traffic, as it was after 1:00pm. We sped through Trapani, climbed the endless switch-backed roads and arrived in Erice in brilliant sun. We walked the narrow streets climbed the 116 steps of the belltower, looked in the shops - the usual tourist stuff. We found a wineshop staffed by a delightful Sicilian woman whose mother was born in Toronto but had come home to settle and bear this lovely child. It was her dream to go to Canada. We bought some Sicilians wines to take to Tuscany with us; heresy, perhaps but we like fruity, rounded, full-bodied wines and many of the Chianti wines we tried in February were narrow, straight-up and a bit sharp around the edges.
We tried a local wood-fired pizza oven restaurant on Friday night for a take-out pizza. The place was closed when we arrived five days ago but the week before Easter there are signs of life as people arrive to open their summer houses and the service industry gears up. Somehow we ordered two pizzas when one would have been enough. One was spinach and gorgonzola while the other was mushrooms and cheese. Despite a winter off these pizza chefs were hot. A ball of dough was flopped out and ready to dress in less than 20 seconds - nothing short of magic! The oven was deep, round and hot. The pizzas were in and out in a couple of minutes. We ate them on the balcony of our hotel room overlooking the sea washed down vino rosso. I decided that night that gorgonzola is an essential pizza ingredient.
Having forgotten just how much fun it was to drive in Palermo, we went back on Saturday to see the outdoor markets. If we had an apartment we would have bought a wheelbarrow-load of artichokes, peppers, oranges, fish of every description, cheeses, lamb, veal or bovino chops and endless other Sicilian delicacies. We bought nothing but enjoyed the experience. We saw some famous churches and architecture and drove home in time for the daily dose of Vitamin Darla.
We made reservations back on the wharf for a delicious Saturday night meal - more of the same great food and wine as we started to wonder how it might be possible for us to live here forever.
On Sunday we had a choice of a 12km hike along an ocean-side trail to San Vito lo Capo or the one-hour trip around by car. After a late Saturday night, the car offered the best chance of success (and survival). We took as many back roads as we could, realizing that this is a very big, very beautiful, very rugged land. At one point the road seemed to simply disappear over the edge of a cliff. Darla insisted we turn around and take the longer, better road, and we did.
San Vito lo Capo is a delightful town at the end of the road with an exquisite, wide, fine sand beach dotted with palm trees and framed to the west by a massive red, gray rock cliff straight up some 2500ft. There is an extra, soft quality to the aquamarine water and the early-season Sunday crowd was in a mellow mood as, for many, it was their first visit to the beach this year. The restaurants were busy with their first weekend open, too, a practice weekend to work out the kinks just before Easter.
Naturally, we were hungry. Next to a window overlooking the beach we found a table surrounded by families and groups of families with lots of children. Everyone was smiling. The wait staff was smiling, gracious and thrilled that two people from Canada had found their way to their little town. The vino bianco locale was a cold, mildly sparkling, refreshingly delicious surprise - especially at 4 euros for a half litre. We started with caponata and the local crusty sesame bread with olive oil followed by a lettuce, chicory and very red, ripe tomato salad. We shared a primi of spaghetti pomodore (tomato) and melanzana (aubergine). All this was served in a linen tablecloth with linen napkins - just so civilized. We had to do something to stay awake for the drive home so we tried caffé, between one and two ounces of intense pure coffee - probably the national drink of Italy. Like a regular well-brewed cup but take out most of the water. As it was after noon, one could not get it with milk so we snuck a spoonful of sugar in to make the medicine go down. You simply knock it back in one shot. We were wide awake for the drive home.
We have a couple of days left in Sicily and then we take a ferry back to Italy. We’ve grown to love this wonderful sunny place with its ancient history, delicious food and friendly people.

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Photos

Castellamare del Golfo
Our restaurant on wharf in foreground. Our hotel on beach in background

Italian High School Girls in Selinunte
...practicing their English on us

Tyrrhenean Sea Hotel
...She found her beach. The open brown door on the second floor is our room

Catellamare Del Golfo
Fishing boats at the Wharf

Salt Mounds in Trapani
Erice on Mountain Top in Background