Last night we stayed in a hotel in Syracuse, made famous because Winston Churchill stayed there in 1955, and claimed that he experienced the ‘best sleep he had ever had’. It was indeed a very comfortable, slightly dated, but very grand old hotel, and we enjoyed a pleasant bedtime drink in the bar that is named after him. We had ended up there because both the local campsites close to Syracuse had not yet opened for the season – so their loss, our gain. In the grounds is the quarry used by the Ancient Greeks to extract the stone used to make the city. Today, it has been converted into a beautiful sunken garden. On our way out of Syracuse this morning, we passed the large amphitheatre, but decided that nothing could top the amazing cliff-top Teatro in Taormina.
Today we continued our journey southwards along the south eastern tip of Sicily. Our first stop was a visit to Noto, which is notorious (see then pun there?) for it’s baroque architecture. The original city was raised to the ground in the 1693 earthquake, along with seven other neighbouring towns, and so the mayor at that time decided to re-site the new city 6 kilometres inland, away from it’s original site on the coast. He took the opportunity to employ three famous Italian architects, who designed the new town on a grid system in a completely Baroque style using the local white limestone. Over time, this weathered to a mellow golden colour, and is today designated a UNESCO World Heritage site, allegedly being the best example of baroque architecture in the whole of Italy. We parked up, and Howard decided on a walking tour before coffee. I dutifully followed, but was rather puzzled as to why there was not a soul around, bar the odd local. We climbed the hill to a church, which Howard informed me was the Duomo or cathedral. It sat in a pretty looking square, and was indeed a church, so I took his word for it, and went in to have a look. I was fairly underwhelmed at the interior, but had a quick look around, and we continued on our way. It had a lovely charm about the place, all the better for being so quiet. However, I was surprised that there were no cafes in sight. Eventually we headed back down the hill, and suddenly, there it was – this huge grand street, with the cathedral on one side, and the town hall on the other. The street was heaving with tourists, cafes, shops and restaurants. Ah – so this is where everyone is, I thought. The architecture was indeed grand and very ‘over the top’ baroque, but personally, I had preferred our quiet wander through the back-streets.
Our exit from Noto was interesting! We chose to ignore Boris when he tried to send us up a ridiculously narrow street, only to find ourselves in an even narrower one, with a ninety degree turn at the end, and a flight of steps at the other end. I must admit, I completely freaked out, and had to jump out of the van to help Howard negotiate the turn, as well as just to start breathing again! The posted street photo says it all. We chose a quiet countryside route after that, passing through orchards of lemon trees, and yet more olives. We followed the coast for a while, then headed inland again towards a town called Modica, famous for it’s Gorge, and it’s chocolate making. Apparently Modica chocolate is made with only cocoa and sugar, and no heat or cocoa butter, giving it a crunchy grainy character, and is named ‘chocolate glass’. We turned off and visited the smaller town of Scicli nearby, which was also completely destroyed in the earthquake. Like Noto, Scicli is built entirely in a baroque fashion, and had some fairly interesting gargoyles decorating one of it’s churches. As we walked through the main piazza, we were interested to see a huge anti-Mafia banner hanging from the window of the local comprehensive school. Apparently, there has been a huge movement against Mafia activity in Sicily in recent years, but despite this their influence remains, particularly in the south. We stopped in a cafe and bought some of the local chocolate, so I will report back if it is good!
We are now settled in our seaside campsite, just along the coast from Scicli. After a pleasant morning, the wind has picked up, so we selected a pitch as far back from the sea as was possible. The campsite is run by a man from Darlington (who married the Sicilian mother of the owner) – it was very strange to hear a British accent after all these weeks. Howard is off checking on the washing – if he doesn’t hurry back, I might have to start on the chocolate without him!

Today we bade farewell to Taormina, and headed south along the Ionian Coast to Syracuse. Mount Etna was looking stunning this morning, and for many miles along the autoroute, we were in it’s shadow.
We arrived at our destination about lunchtime, and after a quick stop for a coffee, we walked the kilometre or so into the old town of Syracuse, which sits on the island of Ortygia, jutting out into the Ionian Sea, and connected to the mainland by two bridges. Syracuse was inhabited back as far as 733 BC by a Greek colony from Corinth. Within 250 years, it had not only become the most important port in Sicily, but one of the most powerful cities in the whole Mediterranean, on a par with Athens and Carthage. Eventually it was overtaken by the Romans, but Syracuse remained the most important Roman city in Sicily, and later, for a short time, was the capital of the Byzantine empire. Archimedes was born in Syracuse, and is where he discovered his famous ‘principal’. So basically lots went on here, and the place is oozing in history.
The modern town is pretty unremarkable, but the old town of Ortygia is a gem. We walked past the harbour and marina, crossed the bridge Ponte Nuovo, and it was like stepping back into the past. We were immediately met with a series of Greek columns, the remains of a Temple to Apollo. We then walked into a square named after Archimedes, with a spectacular fountain with a statue of Diana at it’s heart. The town then becomes a labyrinth of narrow streets and walkways, extending towards the sea. We walked along the main street Via Roma, took a right into a glamorous looking piazza, and then caught our first sight of the side of the huge white cathedral, the Duomo. It sits on the original site of the Greek Temple of Athena, and although rebuilt by the Romans, then the Normans, some of the Greek columns remain in the structure. The cathedral received a new Baroque facade after an earthquake in 1693. This spectacular white building completely dominates the elegant Piazza de Duomo, which today was almost deserted apart from the odd tourist and a passing group of school children. Inside, it is much less impressive than it’s outer shell, but it houses the remains of Saint Lucy, whose bones are on display in a cabinet inside.
After a look at the Cathedral, Howard dragged me off to an archeological site, which seemed to be explaining the difference between Ionian and Corinthian columns. Apologies to any history buffs, but I needed a wee, and couldn’t really get too embroiled until I had met my needs.
We found a lovely little cafe in a piazza round the side of the Duomo, and enjoyed a drink and shared a pizza. As we sat there, the square was deserted apart from a pair of small children on scooters, who were having an absolute ball scooting around this enormous space all to themselves.
Refreshed, we continued on, walking first to the castle, and then around the periphery of Ortygia where it bounds the sea. It was a pleasant meander back through the labyrinth of streets, but we avoided the last bit through the new town by grabbing a taxi home.
I think we probably saw Syracuse at it’s best, on a quiet Monday afternoon in the sunshine. For now though, I must admit to being rather ‘historied’ out. But if history is your thing, then I defy you not to love Sicily, and especially Syracuse.

Well, it’s a female’s prerogative to change her mind, and I have done just that. I have really taken to Taormina. Initially I was put off by the hoards of tourists, but as the day-trippers left yesterday, the place took on a certain charm. I can see now why D.H. Lawrence made it his home for three years, and why it was popular with the likes of Winston Churchill, Salvador Dali, John Steinbeck, Tennessee Williams, as well as movie stars like Rita Heywood and Greta Garbo. Even Mark Knopffler has written a song about the place – ‘The Lights of Taormina’. Today, the town still attracts artists, and there are plenty of ceramic workshops around the town.
The place is at its best, to my mind, later in the evening and early morning, when the streets are quiet, and you can wander around and take in the atmosphere. Our hotel looks out over the Ionian Sea, and when I got up at six to go to the bathroom, the sky had taken on a pink glow, and for the first time, I spied Mount Etna. Yesterday, the mountain had been clouded in mist and low cloud, but this morning was a bright sunny start, and the volcano popped out over the horizon. It was quite spectacular, and it was hard to not keep looking at it.
After breakfast, we headed off early, before all the trippers arrived, to the star of Taormina, the 4th century BC Greek amphitheatre, the Teatro Greco. It is utterly stunning! It’s setting is spectacular, with a panorama looking out over the azure Ionian Sea, Mount Etna and back towards the Italian mainland. The audiences must have had the best view ever. Although originally built in Greek times, it has had alterations made to it by the Romans to accommodate gladiatorial games. We wandered around for over two and a half hours, just taking it all in, and sitting in the seats where the Greeks and Romans would have sat. These days it is used for the Taormina Arts Festival, and I overheard a guide explaining that they frequently put on plays, including Shakespeare, and that Elton John has performed here also. For me this was the highlight of the day, by far, and as we left, the first of coach loads of tourists started to stream in. We left them to it.
After coffee, we had a wander around the serene and verdant park that sits clinging to the cliffside, again with a stunning view of Etna.
We spent lunchtime in the main square, Piazza IX Avrile, sitting in a bar with a drink, just people watching. This, it transpires, is one of Howard’s favourite pastimes. It was hard to drag him away from his front row seat, with his beer in hand. A bride had come to the square to have photos taken, and she must have had the patience of Job – since I think the photographer had taken her picture at every conceivable angle and posture, and was still shooting when we left.
In the afternoon, the clouds came in, and it was cooler. Howard decided he was going to be ‘The Grand Old Duke of York’, and decided to march me up to the top of the hill to Mont Tauro, the castle that sits overlooking the town. It was sold to me as a twenty minute walk. It took us over an hour! But I must admit, the views from the top were sublime. After such a steep trek, we treated ourselves to an gelato.

I tried the almond variety – most things in Taormina seem to involve almonds. We had a final promenade along the main street, before heading back to our hotel.
So initial impressions aren’t always correct, and in the end, I really did love Taormina. Tomorrow we move southwards on to Syracuse. I just hope Oscar hasn’t missed us too much, sitting in his car park.

Last night was a blast! We ended up at a one year old’s birthday party, or almost. The campsite owner, Mr Leo, had recommended the restaurant next to the campsite. It turns out that’s because he owns that too. So Howard and I turn up at about 7.45pm to find that we’re the only ones there. But we’re greeted warmly by Mr. Leo, who seems to do the front of house, and shown to our table, which seemed to be one of the only ones not reserved. On the far side of the restaurant, a large u-shaped table was made up with 47 places set. Half an hour later, a young couple arrived with an infant (the birthday boy), and tons of balloons. The balloons were liberally scattered on the floor of the restaurant, and some large blue helium balloons, ready ‘First Birthday’ were tied to a chair on the top table. Over the course of the next hour, the guests slowly dribbled in, accompanied by a good few toddlers and infants. By now, Mr. Leo seemed to be nursing a very new born baby and the chatter in the room was growing in volume by the minute. Whole family groups were there – parents, grand-parents, aunts and uncles, as well as the children. Eventually, at about quarter past nine, the starters were brought out. Infants were being propped awake in their high chairs, and the party began. Howard, who was facing all the action, gave me a running commentary of that was going on, and commented that this was much better than watching the television. We eventually left just before ten, by which time there was not a sign of the main course. This party was clearly going on until the early hours. It seemed to us that it was a huge gathering of family and friends, and if I’m honest, little regard was being paid to the birthday boy, who was still being forced to stay awake, but clearly everyone was having a ball. It remained unclear whether Mr. Leo was related to the party, or whether he just included child care in his job specification, but he made the effort to come over and talk to us about the Sicilian menu that Howard had tried, and was clearly very proud of his establishment.
The night went downhill a bit from then onwards. It was windy as we walked back to the campsite, but within half an hour, it was blowing a gale. Our external topper was flapping wildly, and the whole van was being buffeted by the wind. We looked up the weather on the internet, and it said wind speeds would pick up to approaching 40mph into the early hours. So we made an executive decision that we should take the pop-up down and sleep downstairs – the first time this trip. So Howard bravely ran outside in his swimming trunks to take the topper off, fighting not to let it blow over the cliff into the sea. Needless to say, we didn’t sleep well until the wind had died down, at about 6am.
By the time we got ourselves going, and had re-filled with water it was late morning. We then drove eastwards, back past Messina, the ferry-port, and then southwards down the east coast to a place called Taormina. As before, the motorway tracked through a series of long, poorly lit tunnels. Although on this occasion, they had clearly read my comment about not changing the lightbulbs, since they had helpfully put up signs in some places saying ‘Galleria non illuminata’ – no lights in the tunnel.
We didn’t arrive at Taormina until late afternoon. Parking Oscar was a whole other story that I won’t bore you with, but Howard noted that his pulse rate had tripled on his Garmin! The town sits on a steep hillside, looking out over the Ionian Sea, and is a popular tourist destination. It is a good looking town, and it knows it. First impressions are that it seems to be filled with rather beautiful people, wandering around the narrow streets, looking in shop windows, spending lots of money. The town is very attractive, with lots of medieval buildings, churches and piazzas. My initial feelings were that it was more touristy than I would like, but after an hour wandering around, I started warming to it. It had a confidence about itself for sure, but the visitors were all enjoying their promenade, and looking happy. Howard left me for a few minutes to drop some wine bottles back at the hotel, and I stood in a plaza, listening to some musicians, and people were spontaneously joining in the singing, and a couple even got up and started dancing. The shops were filled with tasty pastries, marzipan fruits (a speciality) and lots of brightly coloured ceramics. So I think we will warm to this place, once we get a chance to explore it properly tomorrow. In the meantime, Howard has just brought two Italian maintenance men into our hotel room, and there is lots of gesticulating going on at the small insects coming out the bath taps! Might as well be camping!!

Today turned out to be another good day. We had bought ourselves extra time in Palermo, by staying last night in a hotel in the city. The hotel were happy for us to leave Oscar tucked up safe and sound in their secure car park for the morning. So after breakfast we walked back into the old part of the city, with the aim of visiting the market. En route, we came across a gorgeous old piazza, with the most splendid series of fountains and a profusion of statues of gods and goddesses. Many of the statues were of partially dressed men and women, and although the women were delicately covered up in their nether regions, the men were clearly showing all they had!
We eventually found the market, and had a wander around. We were temped with the lovely looking artichokes and fresh fruit, less so by the pungent smelling fish, but in the end declined to buy anything, apart from a Sicilian flag to go with our Spanish, Italian and Scottish ones. We never managed to pick up a Portugese one, so will have to search for one on our return. Just along from the ‘flag man’ was a dodgy looking shop selling fake Police ID badges and gun holsters -I’m not sure what that was all about!
We re-traced our steps back to the hotel, and at the last minute decided to make a detour on the way to our campsite to a hill-town a short distance outside of Palermo called Monreale. Driving through the suburbs to get there was a bit of a nightmare, but definitely worth the effort.
Monreale is famed for it’s majestic cathedral, the Duomo, built by William II to rival any of the cathedrals in other European cities, and also to outshine the Palatine Chapel in Palermo itself (the one we visited yesterday) built by his grandfather. It combines Norman-Arab-Byzantine architecture, and is renowned for its mosaics of biblical scenes crafted in the late 12th century. For us, however, the delight was the stunning cloisters, which have a distinct Arabic feel about them, with symmetrical patterned mosaics on the columns, and intricate carving on the masonry. When we visited, it was lunchtime, and we had the cloisters virtually to ourselves for most of he time, and so were able to lap up the tranquility of this stunning space. It was hard to drag ourselves away from this calm and meditative place, but we were keen to avoid the Friday afternoon Palermo rush-hour, so headed on our way.
We opted to stay back on our campsite from two nights earlier, with the beautiful views out over the Tyrrhenian Sea. It had been quite cloudy and overcast in Palermo throughout the morning, but as we headed east again, the sun came out, and so we detoured away from the coast up to a mountain town called Castelbuono, situated in the Madonie Mountains. As we deviated away from the coast, we were suddenly in the most gorgeous countryside, with heavily wooded valleys of oak, ash, beech, almond and hazelnut. The scenery was sublime, and it was a real relief to be out of the city and it’s frenetic traffic. The road twisted and turned up to Castelbuono, a pretty town built around a 14th century castle. We had a brief wander around the medieval town, and noted some of the narrower streets were buttressed across to the other side of the passageway. From somewhere, there was the most divine smell of warm chocolate, but sadly, I failed to locate its source, much to my disappointment. After walking up to the castle, we headed back down to the coastal road, and along to our campsite.
The good news is that the owner, our Leo man, had saved our ‘special’ pitch for us. Even better news, is that the Pizzeria by the entrance has just opened for the season. So it’s pizza for tea tonight. Can’t be bad!

Our plans changed unexpectedly last night, when we had been unable to contact the campsite that we thought we had booked into just west of Palermo. Despite two emails and a phone call, we had received no reply. We therefore reached the conclusion that the campsite was closed. We had planned to stay there for two nights, and tomorrow get the train into Palermo, leaving Oscar tucked up safe and sounding the campsite. So instead, at the last minute (on last minute.com as I recall), we booked a hotel room for tonight in Palermo.
As we sat eating breakfast this morning, a pleasant, but rather smug German from a huge ‘big white’ came over to talk to us and have a nose around Oscar. Sometime in the dim and distant past, he had owned a VW camper, but now he had moved on to ‘bigger and better things’. After he had proudly described to us the exact dimensions of his huge beast, down to the last centimetre, he proceeded to ask us of our plans for the day. When we told him we were driving to Palermo, he tutted, and advised us against it at all costs.
A little apprehensive, but undeterred, we set off for Palermo. However, as we approached, we became more and more nervous. I sat in the passenger seat trying to distract myself, by swatting up on Palermo in my Lonely Planet guide. It was then I read the words, and I quote, ‘Sicilian drivers are some of Italy’s most aggressive, with a penchant for overtaking on blind corners, while holding mobile phone in one hand and gesticulating wildly with the other….Driving is frenetic in the city (Palermo) and best avoided, if possible.’ Needless to say, I opted not to pass this gem of information on to Howard, as we approached the city outskirts. Well – it was indeed scary, but under the circumstances, I think we did pretty well, particularly since daft Boris decided to lead us down one of the main thoroughfares of the city. Frankly, by the time we had arrived at our hotel, I felt that we had already seen most of it.
But in the end, we found the hotel, parked Oscar in their secure car park (our German friend had assured us that the bikes would go – for sure!), and went to check in. The receptionist took one look at us and sat us down with a coffee and pastry to revive ourselves. She was utterly charming, and after all the formalities of paying, passports etc, we got chatting. When I told her that we had driven Oscar in Rome and Naples, she replied ‘Oh my God – Rome, Naples and now Palermo – there is nowhere in the world now that you cannot drive!”. I quietly patted ourselves on the back.
Then just as we put our bag up into our room, an email pinged in from the campsite to say, yes, they were open! We laughed, and set off to discover Palermo.
In general, I’m not a great fan of cities, and hadn’t much been looking forward to this one. Howard, though, felt a trip to Sicily wouldn’t be complete without a look. How glad I am that we braved the traffic. The city has an air of shabby chic about it, and is a place of contradictions. On the one hand, there are all the trappings of a wealthy place – an elegant row of shops with Louis Vuitton, Prada and Gucci. On the other, there are signs of neglect and decay on some buildings that have clearly seen their day. One area of the city was so run down that Mother Teresa likened it to a shanty town, and opened a mission there. But juxtaposed with this decay, is a thriving vibrant place, with clearly signs of wealth – new cars, smartly dressed men and women and plenty of good looking bars and restaurants. We walked up the main pedestrian street Via Maqueda up to Quattro Canti, the main intersection in the old sector of the city. We found a charming square, Piazza Bologni, where musicians played by the fountain, entertaining diners at the restaurants. Further back, a sparkling clean black Range Rover and a Porche sat parked under rusting ornate balconies, so neglected that they were growing weeds.
The old quarter is a fusion of Byzantine, Arab, Norman, Renaissance and Baroque. We continued on to the Cathedral, the outside of which was just stunning. It’s Arab-Norman Architectural style, which sounds bizarre, but actually looks amazing, is in stark contrast to the rather dull interior. Moving on, we visited the Royal Palace, and went to look at the 10th century Palantine Chapel. Again, I’m not normally one for this sort of thing, but wow – it took your breath away. It’s interior was completely covered in mosaic tiles, including the ceiling. For me, it was more beautiful than the Sistine Chapel in Rome, and totally unexpected.
So sometimes, a day turns out much better than anticipated, and today was one. I like Palermo. I can cope with the roughness at it’s edges, and am really pleased we took the time to see it. I’m also quite pleased that I don’t have to contend with the alleged four-minute, timed and charged for showers at our original campsite – I shall be giving our hotel a much better review!

We have finally arrived in Sicily, and so far, we are very impressed. We drove to Villa San Giovanni to catch the ferry with some apprehension, since catching the ferry in Barcelona had been pretty stressful due to lack of instructions and poor signage. However, here it was completely different, with ‘boat’ signs leading to the ferry terminal, and helpful staff where we bought our ticket. No sooner had we arrived, than we were boarded onto a rather good looking yellow ferry, and we were off. The crossing takes less than half an hour, barely time to drink our coffee, before we had to retrace our steps to the Car Deck, and drive off in Oscar. All in all, a very slick operation.
We followed signs to the Autoroute to Palermo, choosing to completely ignore Boris, who was with the fairies, as usual. The autoroute passes through a series of long tunnels and over high concrete viaducts as it winds it’s way along the north coast. As we set off, the sun was shining, and the Tyrrhenian Sea sparkled a gorgeous azure blue. In many of the tunnels, they had blocked one of the two lanes for roadworks, and the lighting seemed to get dimmer and dimmer. We realised that probably only about ten percent of the light bulbs in the tunnels were actually working. At one point, in a particularly long stretch of tunnel, we were passed by an Audi doing about 120 mph – but we had been previously warned about the driving in Sicily! Indeed the cars in Sicily are much larger than the ones we have seen on the mainland. Around Rome and Naples, they were exclusively small cars, with loads of Fiat 500s and Smart Cars. Here in Sicily, we have already noticed loads of Land Rover Discovery Sports, Audis and larger VWs. They clearly like their cars here!
As we pulled off the motorway, we drove along a beautiful stretch of coastline looking out back towards the mainland. We arrived at our campsite for the night in good time, so opted to visit the local town of Cefalu. Despite the sunshine disappearing, it proved a wonderful outing. We were really taken by this little medieval town hugging the coastline, in the shadow of the mountains beyond. The town is dominated by a rocky crag overlooking the town, where the Arabs had built their citadel prior to the Norman Conquest. The town comprises of attractive, slightly shabby, narrow streets, with the roads beyond a certain point only open to residents. We laughed as we watched little cars speed through the tiniest of streets, making our tentative driving on the Amalfi Coast look like cowardy custards! The piece de resistance of this lovely town is the 11th Century Norman cathedral. We walked along the narrow approach lane, which suddenly opens onto a large bustling square, with the Cathedral at the far side. It takes you by surprise, and is a magnificent sight. Inside, I was impressed by the unusual stained glass windows, which rather than the standard biblical scenes, were in a series of abstract colours. We couldn’t leave without stopping for a coffee in the square below, and we also failed to resist the delicious home-made gelato. Howard remarked we were developing a ‘one a day’ habit!
We re-traced our steps and registered at our campsite. It sits right on the coast, with the coastal railway running straight through the middle. That may sound awful, but in fact, the spot is sublime. The owner, who after establishing that both he and Howard were Leos (after checking the date of birth on his passport), decided that as a fellow Leo, we should be given the best camping spot on the site. Thankfully, it is away from the railway line (and the toilets and other campervans), but has uninterrupted views looking out over the ocean. It is just sublime! The only problem will be finding the toilets in the dark, but a small price to pay for such a lovely spot.
So our first day in Sicily has been very favourable. Tomorrow we head towards Palermo, if we can drag ourselves away from this place!

We had rather a delayed start this morning due to a certain someone, not naming names (but it wasn’t me), losing the car keys. Eventually they were found wrapped in the duvet in a stuff sack in the wardrobe, but that wasn’t before we had completely emptied the van, having only just packed it all up. My mother’s favourite saying came to mind – ‘a place for everything, and everything in it’s place’. At the time, her incessant chanting of this phrase used to irritate me, but now I know what she was getting at!
We headed initially south hugging the Ionian Coast to Crotone and beyond. It was a sunny day, but quite windy, and the Ionian Sea looked splendid with white horses on the turquoise green water. All along the route, we noticed little lemon yellow flowers, growing like weeds at the side of the road, and yet more olives groves. It beggars belief what they do with all these olives! It has been the predominant crop all throughout Spain, Portugal and Italy. Add to that the Greek olives, and there must be an EU lake of olive oil somewhere, along with the butter mountain. I cannot believe that all these olives can possibly be consumed, either as olives or olive oil, but maybe I’m wrong. At our coffee stop this morning, I watched a group of Italian lorry drivers tuck into platefuls of mozzarella wrapped in parma ham. They then proceeded to drown the entire plate in olive oil – so maybe they were single-handedly reducing the olive oil lake I have been imagining!
We crossed over the width of Italy at it’s thinnest part of the foot, and headed towards the Mediterranean once more, although a I note from my map that at this point it is called the Tyrrhenian Sea. We passed through a charming ramshackle town of Pizzo, and followed the coast around the peninsula to a town called Tropea. This old town sits on a rocky promontory looking out to sea, and at it’s base is a gorgeous white sandy beach. We parked by the beach underneath the old medieval town and looked up at it’s precarious cliff top houses. On a promontory at the end of the beach sits a beautiful white church, which stood out beautifully today in the sunshine against the turquoise blue waters below. We climbed up a series of steps up to the old town and had a wander around. The architecture is apparently a mixture of Norman, Moorish and Baroque, and has the typical narrow streets overhung with balconies, opening out onto tiny squares. In the summer months, this place is teeming with visitors, but today it was not really open for business. There were plenty of restaurants, but all seemed closed, and we eventually found the one coffee shop /gelateria that was open, and treated ourselves to a coffee and ice-cream.
We wound our way on to our campsite for the night. It is situated right on the beach, and as we pitched up, the sun was starting to set. I am delighted to report that I have gained a reprieve for my tripod, against Howard’s three month rule, since optimistically I set it up, with the hope of a pink coloured sky. At the last minute, the sun sunk behind clouds, so I didn’t get my shot – but at least Howard saw me using it – so it stays!
Excitement is mounting, as tomorrow we should make it to Sicily. We are on the look out for men in black overcoats and dark sunglasses!

Today was a bit of a chill-out day. We had booked this lovely campsite, which sits right on the Ionian Coast, because it had favourable reviews and good facilities, in particular, washing machines and tumble driers – we were on a mission. Today was our decontamination day! I had reached my limits with Howard’s running kit, and a good clean and tidy up were long overdue. So this morning, we set to with military precision. Before 10am we had done four loads of washing, including all the bedding, fleeces, towels and clothes. It was a lovely sunny day, so whilst we waited for the washing to dry, we walked on the beach (right at the edge of our campsite), sat in the sun and drank coffee, pottered around hand-washing jumpers and trainers, and then enjoyed a lovely Al Fresco lunch in the shade of the Eucalyptus trees by Oscar. By early afternoon we were all sparkling clean and positively gleaming! There is something very satisfying about having a good clean up, and we congratulated ourselves on our diligence. Then we had the rest of the day to ourselves.
We considered going out in the van and exploring the local National Park, but instead, since we had been driving most of the previous day, we opted to go out cycling. So we set off, and cycled along to the local village and harbour. Approaching the village, we found a cycle path along by the sea, and so all in all, it was perfect. We even found a cafe open with rather nice cakes – so immediately negated any benefits from the cycling by scoffing a couple.
Back at the campsite, we chatted to a couple from Kent, who have been out here since mid-December. In fact, they have been travelling around Europe, on and off, for the past six years. We were rather tickled by the number plates on their van and car – F33T UP and N357 EGG (Feet up and Nest Egg)!! It turns out they had sold up back in the UK, but returned every Autumn to see family and friends. The rest of the time, they seem to visit friends they have made from all over Europe whilst travelling. I’m not sure I could do what they do – I think after a while being a continual itinerant would get me down. But for now, it’s still a novelty. Let’s see how we feel by the end of the year!
Tomorrow move on again, spick and span, further down towards Sicily, but crossing over to the Mediterranean Coast again. Once more, apologies for the selfie!

Last night’s outing turned out to be quite an experience. Howard had done a recce of the pizzeria restaurant, whilst I was typing the blog. He had reported the it was huge, and there was not a soul there – would I mind being in an empty restaurant? Since the menu looked fine, we decided to give it a go. By the time we had changed and walked the 200 yards down the road, the large car park was completely full. Inside there was a hoolie! The place was absolutely heaving with large groups of families and friends. We managed to get almost the last free table, and were duly given a drink and a menu. We looked around us, and nearly every other table had a long rectangular metal trolley at it’s side, on which sat the most enormous quantity of pizza. The waitress came over to explain the drill. The pizzas in the restaurant were sold by the metre! Yes, that is correct – by the metre!! We tried to explain we wouldn’t eat a whole metre, so we compromised with half a metre, and ordered two different types of 25cm each. As we sat waiting for our food, from our table situated by the kitchen entrance, we watched metre after metre of pizza being wheeled out, at breakneck speed. The favourite combination for the locals appeared to be a metre of pizza, piled high with chips on top. The kitchen couldn’t produce them fast enough, and the waiter charged with delivering the food to the tables came out of the kitchen pushing his long trolley at what seemed like a decent pace for a hundred metre sprint. It was utterly hilarious! Our pizza was good when it came, but the entertainment value of the restaurant was priceless. We mused as to why this concept hadn’t caught on back home – I’m sure it would go down a wow with the St. Andrews students. By the time we left, the queue was out the door and into the car park.
Once back at our campsite, all was quiet as we went to bed. I awoke though, an hour or two later to a loud cacophony of dogs barking. It is not that unusual, particularly in rural locations, to sometimes hear the odd dog barking, but this was like something out of ‘One Hundred and One Dalmations’. As I listened, I started to hear other noises – that of loud whirring rotor blades, and realised that there were helicopters flying overhead. Eventually, Howard stirred and got up to look. The campsite was right on the coast, and he thought he could hear the helicopters out at sea. I am only surmising, but I did wonder if this might be emergency services responding to rafts of immigrants out at sea.
In the morning, I looked it up, since I had thought that the immigrants were largely landing in Sicily, but according to news reports, they were also sometimes appearing off this part of the foot of Italy. We have certainly encountered plenty of Sub-Saharan individuals, mostly men, since we have been in Italy. In Rome and around Naples, they sometimes approached and asked for money, but here in Puglia, they had been selling cheap wares, such as you might find in a market – clothes pegs, plastic lighters, flip-flops and the like. We had only watched two men the day before in Otranto, whilst having our coffee. As they approached the locals, they seemed well received, and I had watched one old man offer some money, although declining any wares. So it seems, that despite the problems with the economy and unemployment, the Italians seem to have tolerance and empathy for the plight of these immigrants. I had read that the immigration issue was one of the key policy issues in the recent elections, with Berlusconi threatening to deport them all. I guess Europe-wide, immigration is a hot topic, just as in the UK – but I was warmed to see some semblance of humanity being shown towards these poor individuals, who were prepared to risk their lives crossing the seas in flimsy rafts to make a new life for themselves. The helicopters last night made me think about it all the more, as I tried to get back to sleep.
Today the weather was dull and overcast, which suited us fine, since we had a long drive through Calabria, the instep of the foot. The scenery was pretty unremarkable, initially lots of olive groves, and then flat and featureless by the coast. The only incident was being flagged down for a police check on the motorway by three heavily armed policeman. They took one look at Oscar, asked Howard a few questions and waved us on,  but nonetheless a bit scary. Being ‘Mother’s Day’, I must admit to rather missing my boys, especially after stopping off for lunch in a restaurant full of family groups. I made an error of ordering what I thought was Tuna Taglatellie. In fact it was Tagliata di Tuna – a huge plateful of pink Tuna, barely cooked, with a scanty garnish. Needless to say, I swapped it for Howard’s plate of ravioli!
Tonight is washing night, having eventually arrived at our campsite. Not before time – Howard’s running kit is virtually jogging out of the van!