Last Night in Montesole

Images: Singing to Etna!; SL on our New Balcony in Pantalemi; Orange Grove from our Window; SL Getting our Drinking water from the Fountain

Today we followed Daniel to look at a new place – an apartment - “Villa Pantalemi” near the Gore Alcantara. Things here don't really seem to have addresses, they are just “near” something.
There was nothing wrong with our mountain house, and I loved to wake up each morning and look at Etna to see what she was wearing. The mountain road, however, made any trip at least a 40 minute affair, sometimes longer at night in the fog. The road simply crumbled away in places, with a thousand foot drop to the rocks below, so it was not a relaxing drive in the country.
This did not deter SL from continuing her still on-going commentary of, “Oh, look at that beautiful valley”, or “Oh, see the castles up on the top of the cliff!”, and no, I didn't actually take the time to see them as I was making a 317 degree turn on the dirt-track of a road the width of a sidewalk with a water-truck trying to pass me.
Daniel actually showed us two places and we chose Pantalemi, a bright, airy appartamento, overlooking a stream that rushes through the gorge below. You could say the view was “gorgeous” - sorry. The bonus is that we can get to the main road in 2 minutes.
We remembered to ask Daniel where the best pizza was, and he explained that this honour changed from year to year, similar to a nightclub being anointed by the in-crowd as the place to go in a large city. This year's winner, by acclamation, is Il Due Campari, in Motta Camastra, exactly 3 km from Pantalemi. (Remember that it was 4 km just to get down the mountain from our old place!)
The pizza was everything that was promised – paper-thin crust, fresh tomato sauce, mozzarella, eggs, olives, artichokes, porcini mushrooms. Washed down with a carafe of vino rosso della casa, it made the perfect end to our week in the mountains.
We made the drive up to our mountain house for the last time, to get ready for the move the next day.
As we got ready for bed, I went out to sing goodnight to Etna with my new song, “Oh, Etna”. I think she approved. A dog barked somewhere on the mountainside.

The Gorge - May 11

Images: Orange Pickers at Dawn outside Pantalemi; SL at "Gole Alcantara" - the Gorge: JL and SL at Gorge: More Gorge.

You would think that we have had enough of tiny, twisting mountain roads, but on Tuesday, we decided to take the road up to the hilltop village of Motta Camastra, to eat at the Pizzeria Panoramica. Although this road was wider than the one to our previous mountain home, it was even steeper.
Twenty minutes of this brought us to the top of the mountain, where a tiny village perched, clinging to the cliff. The restaurant did indeed have a panoramic view, but it was closed.
No matter how hard we try, we really can't figure out the hours of business here. We understand that the stores are all generally open in the morning till one in the afternoon, closed till four or five, and then open again till seven or eight- later for the restaurants, as Sicilians don't seem to start dinner till after nine at night. Our journey to Castigione de Sicilia to get our phone working, however, met with a town still sleeping at 11:00 in the morning. It was explained to us that Monday was the day AFTER Sunday, so of course, things are closed in the morning. We intended to wait till the phone store opened that afternoon, but were told it would not open as the owner had gone to Catania. Wednesday afternoon? Everything closed.
The “Internet Point” said it would open at one, so I arrived there at one, to find it was closing in fifteen minutes. We drove to another pizzeria, to find it open, but no pizza “Pizza solo sera.” Pizza is only at night.
Today we visited the Gole Alcantara – the Gorge. The rock formations looked like strips of playdough, with the water rushing through the narrow chasm below. Very beautiful.
SL and I made our way down, then back up, the 206 stone steps to the bottom of the canyon. John Harasym and I laugh at such a test, as we have conquered the 330 steps in Dundurn.
Tonight I made a meal pasta with a sauce made from everything we had in the fridge. Steak, sausage, garlic, butter, olive oil, onions, carrots, capers, tomatoes and tomato sauce. It was actually quite delicious.
It was a good thing that we had decided to stay in, as the wind rose to a howl that continued all night, knocking over our metal patio furniture, and screaming to get in every window and door. SL and I were awake most of the night, and I finally had to get up and try to plug each little crevice with paper towel to stop the banging as the banshees tried to get at us.
We awoke to the full-throated conversation of the orange pickers right outside our window. It seems that Sicilians do not converse – they shout. What on earth they could be talking about with such fervor is beyond me. I mean, Fantasy Football is still months away!
Today, Etna!

Etna

Images: All images taken on the slopes of Mt. Etna, Sicily

May 12 Etna
My love affair with Mount Etna continues. I do not know what it is, but she fascinates me more than any other landscape we have seen. She doesn't rise up, she towers, she broods, she surveys and rules all that she sees. The mood of the people is set by her. Today, we went to pay a foot and a homage to her majesty.
You have to understand that Etna is a living, active volcano. You can see the plumes of steam and sulfur dioxide rising hundreds of metres into the air. She spews rocks. One shattered the windshield of a jetliner flying thousands of feet above. She erupted in 2002, and in spectacular fashion in 1992, with rivers of orange rock running down her flanks. She gushed hot molten rock at the rate of thirty cubic yards per second. That is five dumptruck loads per second. Five miles from its source, the magma was still moving down at a rate of a foot and a half per hour and only stopped when its temperature dropped to 1,000 degrees. By that time the molten river was 20 feet high and a hundred feet across.
So today we drove up Etna, 10,824 feet above sea level. It was 26 degrees C when we started up, and we sang out the numbers on our car thermometer as we climbed like the countdown to New Year's. Twenty-six, twenty-five, twenty-four, twenty-three; each km would slice another degree off.
As our little diesel car climbed, the scenery changed. The hills became grey moonscapes dotted with waves crested green. Huge blackened cinder boulders had been strewn everywhere by an angry, giant hand.
After 30 minutes of driving almost straight up, we crested a hill to find what looked like a frontier town on Mars. Everything was covered in grey/black volcanic ash, with very little vegetation to be seen. The thermometer read 10 degrees. Craters rose around us like fallen soufflés. Sightlines stretched to the sea, with all the Sicilian towns in between dotting the carpet of green that rolled to the water's edge.
We climbed a crater and looked down. There were no fences, and no warnings. Sicilians seem to think that a precipice with a drop of thousands of feet to the rocky valley below inspires its own cautionary message. I think they are right.
On the way down, we spotted a family (a “skulk?”, A “coven?” Barbara Lubert will know!) of foxes who had no problem at all with us photographing them.
Further on down, about 16 km from the top, we encountered an intrepid group of 50-somethings bicycling up Etna. Their 21-speed bikes were in first gear. I burst out laughing at the expression on the faces of some of them that could only be interpreted as “Who the Hell thought that this was going to be fun?” They still had 16 km to go. Straight up. Only Brian Layfield or John Harasym could possibly enjoy that.
On our return we stopped at a pasticceria to get some bread and dessert. Once inside we were accosted by a loud voice saying, “Hey where are you guys from??”
Seems that two New Yorkers had repatriated to Sicily, where their parents were from, and opened a bakery. Joseph and Anthony DiPasquale, of “My Way” (think Blue Eyes) Pasticceria were a breath of fresh air, and we spent about 30 minutes chatting about their adventures and ours while Anthony made us fresh cannoli.
They also told us that Etna had erupted last night and put on a beautiful show of fireworks in the evening. Had we stayed in our mountain home, we would have seen it.....

Sicily End Week One

Images: View from our Montesole Patio (Note Etna in the Background!); Our House, Montesole, Viewed from our Walk; SL on our Walk

What a week! We still have not found a working “Internet Point” so I don't know when you might read this....
We have our luggage! We have our phone working, we have conquered the mountain (touch wood), and we are on intimate terms with every telephone store within a 20km radius.
Last night we went to Trattoria a Casitta for dinner, deciding to tackle the mountain road at night in the fog.
No menu. No prices. We just basically ate what they brought us, and it was delicioso! We told them we wanted to to share one dinner (antipasti, primo piatto, secondo piatto, contorno, insalata, dolci) – don't think they got that part.
We started with bruschetta, and soon moved on to the antipasti – many of them! Anchovies with a lemon and oil dressing; caprese insalata - mozzarella cheese, tomatoes and basil; mixed seafood salad with octopus, mussles, shrimp; - scrod with tomatoes and lettuce; fried cheese and mushrooms; (why do all the vegetables want to hang out with the mushroom? Cause he's such a funghi!), THEN they bring two whole plates of fish and meat. Needless to say, we couldn't begin to finish everything.
This was accompanied with vino della casa – again, we didn't have much choice as the owner was so proud of his wine – he made it himself!
Everyday, we go for a walk and do our exercises. (Lisa, you will be happy to hear that I got the rubber exercise bands before we left) I am not sure if we are winning, but we might be holding off the very determined siege against our waistlines.
It is incredible to walk under the gaze of Etna. She is truly majestic. I am not just saying this in case her temper erupts (as it did in 2002) and covers us in molten lava. Our mountain path takes us up and around our peak.
Now that I have my guitar, I have been playing and writing. As fascinated as I am by Etna, I have chosen to write a song about her. Each day, I get up early to see what she is wearing – her dark stole, her white cotton shawl, or nothing at all. She is beautiful.
Oh, Etna, do you really care?
When you wake up in the night and wonder what you're going to wear, tomorrow.
Oh Etna, you don't know how much I care.
And tomorrow when I look at you,
I hope to see you standing there,
With your shoulders bare.
Tonight, SL made a terrific meal right here in our tiny mountain cabin – fish with lemon, parsley and basil; artichokes, and stuffed tomatoes.
Tomorrow, we are off in search of Sicily's best pizza!

Day Four Montesole Our Mountain House in Sicily

Images: Our Mountain Road; Our Daily Walks; SL Said I Had to Take My Shirt Off!

Day Four
Phone and Luggage.
Remember how we said that the Sicilian VILLAGERS were the friendliest and most helpful people we ever met? Not so with all of the citta folk.
Our goal today was to make it down the mountain (exactly 4 km), to get our cell phone working, and to reunite with our luggage. As we left our mountain casa, we wondered whether we should bother taking our passaporti, or whether we should leave them safe in the house.
We made it down the mountain successfully, and even realized where we had taken the wrong turn yesterday. Having been (rhymes with PIN - OK, I'll stop) told that we need to go to the Central TIM store (phone, not coffee) in Giardini Naxos, we made the hour long drive to be told by the singularly unhelpful TIM representative that she could not unlock our phone without our passports. Telling her that we really only needed to make one phone call to inquire about our lost luggage, she said that we could not use her phone as it was only an “internal line”, within the office. Now the office was only two people – both within eye contact of each other. They need an “internal line” to talk to each other?
We were directed to two phone booths, neither of which worked, and to an Internet Point – kind of an Internet Cafe- which had no Internet working. The only place to get Internet access was at the Hotel al Riva, and they would not let us access it unless we booked a room.
Lest you think the trip so far has been a disaster, we remind ourselves everyday that the only real impact so far is that we have a limited wardrobe, I have no guitar, and you, dear reader, will see all of these posts at once if we ever find an Internet connection.
Today, we took two long walks up the mountain. At one point, we turned the corner and Etna presented herself in all her glory. It seemed like we had walked right up to her, and it was breathtaking. We are so close to the top of our mountain that we have a spectacular view of all the other mountains and valleys that surround us.
Tonight, I cooked chicken legs on the Weberwannabee (tiny charcoal BBQ). SL made pasta and salad. We drank vino locale – from the mayor's wife. Etna watched us, smiled, and approved.

Sicily Day Two

Images: Our Beautiful View of Etna from the Window of Montesole, our House; Mudslide on our Mountain Road; Etna from our Courtyard ; Montesole from on High

I do not know when you will read this, as I do not know when I will be able to post it. There is no Internet in the mountain casa.
I do know it is 5:45 PM, SL is napping before dinner, and it is pouring rain outside our tiny casa in the mountains in Sicilia. So far, in our 2011 adventure, we have endured trial by tornado, by Losthandsa, by telephone, by mudslide and by rain – and I thought two weeks in Sicily might get dull?
Yesterday morning we awoke in Al Hambra B and B in Giarre to fresh cappucino and cornetti, and wonderful conversation with the other Italian guests, one of whom knew someone who lived in Ontario, and wondered if we might know them.
We left our comfortable Band B and headed out, wondering what was next in store.
What was next in store was that the phone we bought last year in Sicilia would not work. Actually, it worked, but when I charged it up and turned it on for the first time, it had the impertinence to expect that I might actually remember my PIN (pronounced PEEN, by the way– rhymes with BEEN). Three wild guesses later, it locked me out and now I am supposed to enter my PUK (rhymes with …).
Needless to say, we still don't have our phone activated.
This, by the way, is the same phone that we were supposed to use to call our Sicilian travel rep, who would arrange for a facilitator or “fixer” to meet us. Possibly the same “fixer” from the Godfather movies. Remember “The Godfather -Parts I to XL?” Remember the Godfather? Cast in Sicilia??? You see, there is no address for our piccola casa in the mountains. No signs, no directions. You follow the fixer.
So we did, we followed the fixer, who spoke very little English, but made us an offer we couldn't refuse to show us the way up the mountain. We followed, and followed. Remember the empty luggage carousel sense of dread? It pales in comparison to the feeling you have as you make the 37th hairpin turn with your wheels spinning just to maintain purchase with the treacherous incline, realizing you have to remember the way back down the next day to buy luxuries like water you can actually drink. I needed to remember it, and remember it the next day without the fixer to follow.
Remember SL's stop for a few food items? We were grateful that she had, and she put together a pasta of tomatoes, olives, prosciutto and cheese for dinner.
Today, we tried to remember the way down. The LONG way down. We didn't. Whatever road we were on last night certainly did not have a huge pile of stones, mud and uprooted trees blocking our path. So we tried a different fork in the road, and ended up in a farmer's front yard, welcomed most ceremoniously by his seventeen very vocal dogs. So we tried another different fork in the road, and it just stopped. Now you have to understand that when the road stops, that means you have to reverse up a 20 degree incline searching for a place to do a 17 point turn. We tried another... (you get the picture).
Eventually we agreed that any road going down was going to have to do, as we were quite certain that our starting place had most definitely been (rhymes with PIN) up.
We finally made it into a town.
Sicilian VILLAGERS are some of the warmest, kindest people we have ever met. We asked a family who were BBQing in the alley in front of their house where we might buy some wine or beer and were told everything was closed, due to the “festiva”. They then insisted we take a bottle of their homemade wine – in a two litre Coke bottle. We asked for help with our phone and were taken to the wife of the mayor, who allowed us to make multiple phone calls and use her Internet connection to discover that Losthandsa had found our luggage! Her husband, the mayor, was chatting with a man who turned out to be the local butcher. He insisted that Sweet Lorraine go with him in his car to his maccelleria to get whatever carne we wanted.
So here we sit tonight getting ready to cook what we were assured was beef steak in the pouring rain, drinking homemade Italian wine.
Guess what? Life is good, and the homemade wine is terrific!
Tomorrow – our luggage and the phone?

Sicillian Beginnings

Images: Etna; Our Rental Car on the Mountain Road

Faithful readers will remember that our Greek ferry tickets were held up by DHL courier, courtesy of the tornadoes in the US that would not allow their planes to land. Long story short, I picked up the tickets at 11:55, 5 minutes before our scheduled departure. This resulted in a very hurried scramble to the airport, with no time for check-listing to ensure we were organized. Still, we began our journey with everything we needed for our two month adventure. Or so we thought...
Eighteen hours and four flights later, we landed in Catania, Sicily. I am not sure if there is a despair that deepens more rapidly than the one you endure as the crowd at the baggage carousel dwindles and ultimately you are left standing alone with no luggage as the conveyer belt slowly stops turning. So we did the reporting thing, giving the details to a thoroughly unsympathetic Lufthansa rep who seemed to be in disbelief that we actually expected our bags to arrive in the same week as our flight. My first thought was – two months with no guitar – again!
Fortunately, SL had packed the essentials in our carry-ons. She also remembered that Sicilian stores don't always subscribe to the 24/7 rule, so we did some shopping, picking up prosciutto, olives, tomatoes, cheese and bread.
We left for our one night at the Band B in Giarre and arrived exhausted at the Alhambra. The young proprietors and their hotel were delightful and the restaurant that they recommended was a breath of fresh air after our day of travel and trial. The pizzi were incredibly delicious – paperthin crust with ingredients you simply won't see on Gino's menu – potatoes, artichokes, eggplant, eggs?? (yes it works!). The vino da casa was exceptionally good at 3 Euro's per litre, and the whole experience almost made us forget our ordeals. (Or maybe it was the grappa that made us forget, I don't know, I forget.)
Tomorrow we begin to try to chase down our luggage, find our way to our mountain home, and to get the cell phone we bought last year in Italy working again!