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Sojourn in SicilyBy Caroline M. Jackson
Back in the centre of town, the piazzas and streets were everything one would have dreamed of in Italy.
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 Email:
crestlyn@axionet.com |
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TM
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.
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.)