West & East Coast Sicily
Marsala, Catania and Syracusa
We arrived in Marsala mid-afternoon, to what seemed to be a ghost town. Everyone was on their la pausa, which is lucky because it meant there were very few witnesses to Amber slipping on dog poo, landing firmly flat on her back (and pack thankfully!). Amber promptly contorts herself out of the upturned turtle position (with help from Rosie) and a passing local woman kindly checks everything is ok “tutto okaaaay?”. Amber brushes it all off like a champ and we check in to our home for the next month.
We have taken a bit of a gamble on Marsala, we wanted somewhere we could see out the summer heat and crowds without the exorbitant high season prices. After multiple failed attempts to book somewhere for the month of August, we stumbled across a very nice looking apartment on Booking.com. They didn’t cancel on us (or try and elicit another €2000 from us after booking), and so that’s really the main reason we ended up staying in Marsala for a month! We knew very little about it when we were booking a year ago in Australia, but we got lucky.
Mostly known for it’s sweet wines and kite surfing, Marsala is on the South West Coast of Sicily and attracts a comparatively tiny number of tourists. It has a very cute little old town, and a lovely sea breeze blowing most of the day. Our apartment was modern and tastefully furnished (which is out of sync with most of southern Italy, where they commendably use furniture until it breaks) and we were keen to settle in and live a more routine life for a few weeks.
We stocked the pantry full with good food, fully unpacked our bags, and joined a gym. To prevent procrastination, we joined the gym on our first morning in Marsala. We were told to come back that afternoon for our induction, and we returned ready for what we assumed would be a quick rundown of rules. Our induction turned out to be a 90 minute full body workout, which hurt for days. The gyms in Marsala are well equipped but have no air con and no fans. You just have to hope there’s a breeze blowing through the windows. Its a fairly sweaty affair in the height of summer. To round off the gym experience, we were using bidet towels because they’re perfectly sized (and we figured it wasn’t offensive to use them on the equipment if they’re routinely used on peoples bums).
We balanced our trips to the gym with consumption of exemplary local produce. We had many top notch bakeries and fruit and veggie stalls nearby, one of which made what we have deemed to be the best arancina in all of Sicily. It is made to order, and comes out crispy and hot and it’s really really good. However, the process of ordering one is quite nerve wracking - when we took visiting friends there they said we need to watch the Seinfeld episode with the soup nazi (S7E6) and it really is just like this. Get your order and your Italian pronunciation just right or get yelled at, but you endure it because the arancina are so good.
Off the coast of Marsala are the Egadi Islands, which you can day trip to by ferry. The island reminds us a bit of Rottnest, as bikes are a popular mode of transport and it’s quite sandy and arid. We hired two bici and pedaled off to the bay Calla Rossa. The water is absolutely stunning, a powdery blue that’s crystal clear. The “beach” is unfortunately of the nasty rock variety, but we snag a flat area with some loose rocks to prop up our umbrella and head into the water. You need shoes to get in because of the sharp limestone, but the water is heavenly and so refreshing.
People keep pouring in, as do the boats, and the bay which was quiet when we arrived becomes very busy. There’s lots of room though, and we stay for several hours, getting into the water often to cool off. Then, it’s off to the next beach, Bue Marino. It’s now baking hot and the short walk up to our bikes and five minute bike ride to the next bay is sweaty and gross. For whatever reason our tolerance for heat in Perth doesn’t translate to anything useful over here, being outside when its over 30 feels like a 40 degree day back home. Anyway, we snag another flat bit of rock (prime real estate) and jump straight in. We have our own personal ledge to jump off and our own personal (albeit spiky and dangerous) rock chute to climb back out again, sorted. We stay here for several more hours until it feels like we should cycle back to town for a cold drink.
The ride back is hot, and the town has no air conditioned cafe’s so we settle for fans and tuck into a gelato (Rosie) and a mojito (Amber). Our core temperature drops and we venture out again to look for some shade to sit and wait for a our ferry but alas there is none. Finally our ferry docks and we try and board but we’ve bought tickets for the wrong date, dang. We run over to the ticket desk to try and book more (because we don’t want to get stuck out here overnight), Rosie begins to pepper instructions in Amber’s ear when her phone dies mid transaction, this is too much in the heat so Amber walks off leaving the ticket vendor a bit confused. Anyway, Rosie finishes the transaction (because she really wants to go home for a shower and some A/C) and we run back and get on the ferry.
We manage to pass three weeks in Marsala really quickly. Between watching the Olympics, planning for the Morocco leg of our trip, planning for the van in September and planning for two months in India the days pass quickly. (NB: we’ve dropped a month in Tuscany and Umbria and swapped for it a month in Morocco because we’re both craving a change of pace from pasta and Italian countryside). We sneak in a winery visit to Donnafugata, where we sample their wines from around Sicily and pretend to appreciate the different terroir (though we can actually taste the difference with the Mt Etna wine which has big mineral notes from the volcanic soil). The tastings are paired with food, and Amber asked Rosie when she booked if she wanted any dietary requirements listed like “no seafood” but Rosie is adamant we won’t get anything fishy because when has she ever been served fish with wine? Amber plays it safe and feels vindicated when Rosie gets served an arancina loaded with minced sardines. Gross for Rosie, extremely satisfying for Amber.
Before we know it, Ambers friends Connie and Youri are about to arrive from Belgium. We spruce the apartment and stock the fridge and pantry with Italian-y foods. We take them out for a coffee, which started off in the shade but then became sunny, they’re only here for a few days so there’s no time for a slow acclimatisation to Sicily’s heat. After working up a sweat over coffee, we take them off for what we promise to be the best arancine in all of Italy, and possibly the worst customer service in all of Sicily. We deliver - Amber got yelled at and everyone enjoyed their arancina (which we took back to the air con to enjoy sans sweat).
Amber and Connie both enjoy researching places to eat by reading Google reviews (which makes Amber feel validated because Rosie doesn’t trust google reviews that much). With two people on the case, we double our odds of having a good dinner, and they agree on a 4.9 rated Trattoria. The front of house waiter sells us on the tasting menu, that his Mumma cooks off site and brings across to the restaurant each evening. It’s mostly vegetarian, which is great (no fishy fish) and very delicious. We pair it with a couple of local wines, and toddle home with full bellies.
We set off for Erice on a day trip, a hill top medieval town just out of Trapani. We wandered aimlessly for a short time trying to find the bus stop to the cable car in Trapani. But we weren’t the only lost tourists and Youri liaised with some lost French tourists and we all found the bus stop together. The cable car wizzed us up the mountain, giving fantastic views of Trapani and the coast. However, there was no air con and only tiny vents (breathing holes, basically), so the whole ride was like a sauna. Thankfully Erice is a few degrees cooler and we go in search of granita to cool our core body temperatures, Connie’s mulberry flavour is particularly good. We wander about the beautiful town trying not to slip on the marble cobblestone, settling on a shady trattoria for pranzo (lunch) before we get back into the hot box down to Trapani and a bus home.
After a hard day of touristing we are all famished and ready to eat again, and we head to an antique salumeria (cold cuts) store which looks to do an epic charcuterie board. Youri can’t hide his happiness when he sees the huge board of freshly cut mortadella, prosciutto, cheese, olives and plethora of condiments land on our table. We all whole-heartedly agree Marsala has delivered the best platter of our collective lives.
We set an alarm for the 7am ferry to Favignana. We’re day tripping on the main August public holiday so we’re not sure what to expect - crowds because everyone has the day off, or tranquility because they’re all in church for said holiday. We stop for coffee, and before Connie orders an ice coffee we warn her that the hit rate for successful ordering of cold coffee drinks is about 50/50, but she proceeds. The iced coffee arrives - she gets a double shot espresso with ice cubes floating in it and a coffee granita. Caffeinated, we hire some bikes and set off for Calla Rossa. Because its a bit quieter this morning, we snag a shady rock nook and get in the water to cool off.
The crowds eventually arrive, and we contemplate whether its a good idea to give up our shade and move to another beach. We strategically move over lunch time when people go back to town to eat…but still arrive to Bue Marino to find no “good shade” so take the only shade of offer which is perched atop a bunch of rocks. It’s Italian rock beaching at its most uncomfortable. There is a lovely flat rock nearby but its in the sun and baking hot, but Youri can’t resist the flat surface and bravely claims it. We swim again but its a bit choppy and the rocks are not comfortable so we head back to town. We find a cafe that’s open and order cool things to cool down, and chat over beers until it’s time to catch the ferry home.
On our last day together we head up into the hills above Marsala for a wine tasting. The views out over the ocean are beautiful, but there’s an awful smell (smelly toddler nappy) and it’s a relief to get away from it when the tour starts. Wine tours are different in Italy, compared to back home where its all about tastings. In Italy they give you a tour of the grounds and usually a run down of the family history as most wineries are family run. Then you do the tastings and they really give a detailed run down of each wine (all the wanky wine talk about colour and bouquet and what can you smell etc etc) and each is paired with a bit of food. Luckily, both Amber and I opted out of fish this time around so there’s no fishy fish for us! We set up a rotation system to share the shade as the sun is still beating down at 6pm, so with each new wine we swap seats so no one has to endure full sun for more than one tasting.
Connie and Youri leave us on the Saturday morning, and Amber and I now only have two nights left in Marsala! It’s crazy how quick its gone, and we spend our final days blitzing through outstanding admin tasks for India and eating more of the delicious arancina.
We leave Marsala early in the morning, as Rosie’s friend Flic is in Palermo with her family and a catch up is in order whilst they’re not living on opposite sides of the world! We get to Palermo and drop our bags, and catch another bus out to Mondello beach to spend the day at a lido with Flic, Ben, Sammy and Charlie. Its like a mini San Vito with big rock carsts at each end of the bay, and clear blue water, but minus the hectic crowds. We spend the afternoon catching up, swimming and sunbaking before taking the packed bus back into town.
The next day we’re on our way to Catania. Our bus takes the north coast before cutting through the mountain ranges through some beautiful scenery. We skirt around Mt Etna before being dropped at the bus depot in Catania. It’s a very gothic feeling city, probably because it’s buildings are made out of dark lava stone. There’s volcanic ash all over the streets because Etna has been erupting in the weeks before we arrive. Its quite a novelty, but presumably quite a nuisance for the locals to clean up.
We only have a few days in Catania but enjoy its vibrancy very much. The streets are very people friendly and there’s lots of al fresco dining setups, and Amber finds a good apperitivo spot for us. Getting up Mt Etna is a priority, and although the craters are closed (due to volcanic activity) its a big mountain and there are loads of alternatives. We book a guided tour that takes us to the northern parts. Our guide is a local Catanian and has some interesting insights for us about “Mamma Etna”. It’s a geological anomaly, apparently, and no ones quite sure about why its popped up where it has as its not on a plate boundary or a fault. It rains ash on villages and Catania on the reg and cleaning it up is a pain, and also a health hazard as the ash is radioactive (there is a higher incidence of lung cancer around Mt Etna). But, the area is very fertile and green and lush and there is a sense of gratitude for what Mamma Etna provides.
Our first stop is a lava tube, once used to store ice to sell onwards to hotter climes in Sicily and northern Africa before fridges were a thing. Then we start on a walk up towards some old craters. Its a very interesting landscape, with black lava scree and lush green plants and bright blue sky. Its a very vibrant contrast in colours. Our guide sets an easy pace and we plod upwards towards the craters and some excellent views out over Mt Etna. The walk is over too quickly and it’s back down to Catania.
Because we’re so close and The White Lotus is so good we decide to visit Taormina. Its a quick bus ride up the coast to the very pretty little town. After some serious switchbacks we get off the bus and find the main street and wander along it. Its very neat and tidy, a little bougee and the blasts of aircon out the shop fronts are welcomed in the heat. Amber finds a good place for granita but there’s a huge bloody queue out the front, filled with young people, and we work out its insta famous so move on. After a stint in the park reading our books we decide we’re done and head home.
And then we move on to our last stop in Sicily - Syracusa. We’re staying on the island of Ortiga, a town that was once as big and important as Rome and Athens. It’s more of a tourist hub now, but there are old Greek temples and some very impressive baroque buildings in town that nod to its historic status. We schedule an early morning photo shoot to get it in it’s best light.
Otherwise our days are spent at leisure, eating good food and trying to find good coffee (no UHT coffees encountered in Ortiga, thankfully). We procure some traditional Sicilian ceramics, but will have to send them home because they won’t survive the journey in our packs. The simple task of sending a box home ends up taking all morning because this is Italy, and it’s a good reminder that “la dolce vita” is a facade to what’s really a very hard and frustrating life.
On our last night we do a walking history tour and learn a little bit about what we’ve been looking at. As it wraps up, a big storm rolls in which is quite exciting because it hasn’t rained much in Italy for us, and we’ve been hanging out for some cooler weather. No rain eventuates but the town suddenly looks very moody.
We leave Ortiga on a night train to Rome, a good warm up for all the train travel we’ll be doing in India. We’re prepared with snacks and water and when we settle in to our cabin it all feels very comfortable. The train leaves on time, and we bunk down to get some sleep. We don’t fall asleep however, because the driver is a bit hard on the brakes taking all the corners and then the air con stops working. And then the train stops for an hour or so whilst they fix stuff and we realise the 1h40m buffer we left for our Milan train is not enough and we’re going to miss it. That’s a problem for later though, not a problem for 1am in a state of sleep deprivation. We get moving again (with air con) and manage some sleep. We wake up to our alarm and a strong espresso is delivered to our cabin. Resigned to missing our connecting train, we miss that we are pulling into Rome station with about 7 minutes to spare. We can make it! We throw on our packs and start a hurried jog down the platform (we’ve inconveniently parked right at the far end), find our next platform and keep jogging (our next train is inconveniently at the opposite end of the station) until we can see our train! It’s still parked and we have a minute up our sleeves. We get on board huffing and puffing with aching lungs but happy to have avoided paying for an exorbitant last minute ticket on the next train. The train leaves exactly on time, and arrives in Milan exactly on time…we are now in the north of Italy.
Phew, what a journey to Milan! And now you know why I never served you sardines Rosie or any other really fishy fish - yuk! Hope you’re weather is so much better in the Dolomites xox