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Wednesday, August 6th, Taormina, Sicily, Italy
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Wandering the streets of Ortigia,
the island upon which three thousand years of diverse
civilizations established themselves in Siracusa,
we immediately remember why we loved this place so much
on our last visit here a year ago. The narrow
cobblestone streets are lined with old Spanish style
palaces, their facades crumbling against the constant
onslaught of wind and water. Experiencing a
resurgence in the last decade, Ortigia's
abandoned properties are being bought up and renovated
at a modest but steady rate. Oddly, the waterfront
buildings are still mostly empty. With no
protection against the winds and sea, they are by far
the hardest and most expensive to maintain.
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Standing on the island's highest point of land, the
Duomo and it's
surrounding piazza
are the heart of the old city. The baroque facade
of the church belies its ancient origins. A site
of continuous worship since the Sicani and Siculi tribes
flourished on the island from 800 to 400 BC, the Greeks
built a magnificent temple to Athena over the ruins of
the native pagan temple. The cathedral was erected
around the Doric columns which can still be seen in
their original state inside the church.
The church is now dedicated to Santa Lucia,
the patron saint of Siracusa.
In the years just preceding Constantine's conversion of
the Roman Empire to Christianity, when Christians were
still being persecuted and martyred, Lucia
proclaimed her loyalty to God, refusing to marry the man
chosen for her by her father and distributing her wealth
to the poor. Denounced to him by her betrothed,
the governor of Syracuse ordered her burned.
Miraculously, the guards were unable to move her and the
fire lit beneath her left her unscathed. The
guards were finally able to kill her by stabbing her in
the neck. Every year, on December 13th, the larger
than life statue of Santa Lucia,
dagger protruding from her delicate neck, is taken out
from behind its protective enclosure and paraded through
the streets of Ortigia.
The huge, rectangular Piazza del Duomo
is lined with numerous other baroque buildings.
During the hot days, it is sparsely populated with
locals going to and fro on errands and tourists visiting
the church. But at night, once the sun has gone to
bed, the temperatures drop and the city begins to fill
up. Dressed to the nines, the Italians love to
parade through the streets, talking, laughing, shouting,
and showing off to anyone who cares to look. Young
men in tight jeans, ornate button down shirts and shiny
gold or silver colored tennis shoes carry their cell
phones at the ready. The women are beautiful, with
stiletto heals, perfect makeup and skirts or dresses so
short you can't help but stare. Street performers
gather crowds and the outdoor restaurants do a brisk
business. We find the best pizza in town at
Minerva, right on the
main square and enjoy the spectacle.
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Mingling our daily routine of meals and school with our
exploration of our new neighborhood, Mike and Sue
continue to fit right into the cruising lifestyle.
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We
hired a tour guide for a few hours one afternoon who
filled us in on a few highlights from the thousands of
years of Syracuse's history. Curiously, Mike's
questions were more about the modern day city.
"How much does it cost to rent an apartment here?
What kind of utilities do they have? How much do
you spend on electricity every month?" I'm sensing
a definite attachment to their first Italian port of
call!
The anchorage in Porto Grande is ideal; well protected
from all directions except due east, relatively shallow
and with excellent holding. I can easily see how
many cruisers wind up staying here for weeks on end.
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The daily market in town, closed only on Sundays, is
phenomenal. We browsed on Saturday and vowed to
return on Monday before leaving for our next
destination. We both fell in love with the cheese
man, who gave us a delectable sample of lightly smoked
fresh mozzarella, dripping with garlic, lemon and olive
oil. "We have been waiting for you two!" he says
with a smile as we walk up to his booth.
Everyone gives us a little taste of some delicacy or
other. We bought some wonderful local peaches, called
pesche schiacciatte,
or flattened, that are
so flavorful you think they just fell ripened from the
tree and into your shopping bag. Emboldened by
Susan, we bought clams, mussels and shrimp, planning to
add some tuna and frozen crab from our stores to make a
rich cioppino or
fish stew for our evening meal. We don't want to leave,
but alas, can carry no more. The boys await us on
Zia, ready to lift anchor and head on our way north.
Arriving at the anchorage beneath the hilltop village of
Taormina just as the sun descends behind the looming
Etna, we prepare our feast. A bottle of Prosecco,
a salad, and chunks of hearty bread complete our meal.
Spooning the broth over bowls exploding with seafood, we
can't get over our good fortune for being here.
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Perhaps we'll have to extend our visit in Italy a little
longer on our way westward. After all, it's only a
450 mile sail north to reach the Ligurian Coast, land of
the famed Cinque Terre.
Looking at the wind forecast for the next seven days,
there are even some solid southerlies that seem to be
encouraging this line of thought. Joe is anxious
to make our way out of the Med before the weather turns
against us, but he might be persuaded with the
temptation of France, Monaco and Northern Italy.
Next Entry
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Many thanks to our friend Craig Homenko for his assistance in setting up the website.
We also would like
to thank our buddy Scott Brunner who has been kind
enough to host the website on his server.
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