We flew across the sea to Catania, Sicily. Another wild ride to the hotel, with a Sicilian driver this time. No rules seem to apply, there seems to be no markings on the road as to where the driver should keep within some sort of confine. In short, it's a free for all and we are pleased to arrive in one piece.
Our hotel is in the Piazza di Duomo. It's my first time in Sicily since I was 27 and I had arrived in Palermo with my late husband at a time when it was a common sight to see tanks in the streets. Looking at the buildings in Catania, we think the city looks unkept and dirty and could do with a scrub but then we find out that the buildings are made of volcanic basalt, a dark grey stone from the surrounds. Mr Etna, after all, sits brooding over the city.
We have a balcony overlooking the square and the beautiful church. In the middle of the piazza, an elephant on top of a fountain surveys the scene from on high, surrounded by people eating gelato around it's base and equally being cooled by the fountains spray. The elephant, (u Liotru) has become the symbol of the city and is said to be magical and be able to predict the eruptions of Mt Etna; which is obviously a handy thing as eruptions are hard to predict even with all the technology of our times.
The elephant's past is still unknown, it may be Roman or maybe not, it was appropriated in the 1700's to be made into a fountain, was given a marble saddle with Catania's patron saint's coat of arms on it, and then an Egyptian obelisk (origins unknown as well) was placed on top. A mishmash of cultural identity with a bit of magic thrown in.
Across the road was one of the top ten pasticcerias, Prestipino Duomo. We have to have cannoli and ,as it's afternoon, we have to have it with a Prosecco. Cannoli in Sicily are indelibly printed on my memory from almost 32 years ago when I tasted my first one in Palermo. The crunch of the fried bubbled pastry, the soft creaminess of the sheep's cheese ricotta, the discovery within of bits of dark chocolate and tiny bits of cedro, a candied thick skinned lemon of Italy. We close our eyes as we eat the Cannoli. Heaven.
The shop is full of almond biscuits in all shapes and sizes and perfect marzipan fruits that you can have boxed in brightly decorated Sicilian painted containers. Wandering around we come across a market full of amazing jewellery, handbags, clothes. The colours, the detail! Lemons, fruit, chillis , pearls and coral are the theme of the jewellery and bags. I buy earrings for the daughter and myself and am blown away by the ornateness of the ceramics.
We find a shop opposite our hotel where I find out about the story of Elizabetta and Lorenzo whose faces are on vases everywhere. Elizabetta, a Sicilian girl falls madly in love with a Saracen merchant only to find out he has a wife and children back home. Here the story verges into two. One is that Elizabetta decides to kill Lorenzo so that she will have him with her forever, the other is that her brothers murder him. Either way, she decides to keep his head as a souvenir, plants it in a vase and grows basil on top (as you do when you find out your lover has deceived you). The vases show the heads of Elisabetta and her lover, as a set of two, or one on either side. When I moved in with the husband, there was one such vase in the garden and it used to freak me out so I hid it until one day, I discarded it (meaning it accidentally was thrown into the bin) but now I know the story of it, I would have treated it to a better location in the garden and grown basil in it.
The shop owner also explains the image of the Trinacria or the three bent legged Medusa. The Greeks named the Island after it's three capes and it's triangular shape plus the fact that it's surrounded by the Tyrrhenian, Mediterranean and Ionian seas. It's become the symbol of Sicily and after finding that out I buy earrings for the daughter because she has a fondness for the feminine power of Medusa.
The hotel owner recommended a restaurant, and of all the amazing places to eat in Catania, this sadly was one of the worst. They forgot us, they ignored us and then brought us food that was only just edible. I should have looked on Trip Advisor. You live and learn. The partner got some cigars in memory of his dad and we sat on the balcony, listening to the singer in the piazza, the smell of the cigar sweetening the air.
We head to the pasticceria for breakfast. I have my favourite pistachio brioche and a darkly, deadly macchiato before we have a quick look at the famous Catania markets before we leave for Taormina. The markets are beyond belief, there's a balcony where Catanian men lean over watching the spectacle of the fish sellers below, they are wreathed in cigarette and cigar smoke. We are transported to a medieval world, a cacophony of Sicilian dialects shouting about their produce; swordfish heads staring us down; the fish so fresh there's hardly a smell in the market; the sunlight turns the scales to silver iridescence, to burnished corals and pinks of the delicate prawns and crustaceans.
The partner loves anchovies and he's treated to a small plate of them, carefully deboned and laid out and covered with a paste of parsley, oil and a splash of lemon. They tell us to go to a shop that sells good bread to have them with. The bread shop is in the middle of the vegetable markets - cheese, bread shops and all manner of spices are displayed in the tiny meandering streets. We are entranced but have to leave for the train to Taormina.
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