Civilized Cross Many Countries

Heaven, in Italian.

We slept the sleep you have when there is nothing on your mind but peace and happiness. Disney this may be, but it’s a really good Disney. Taormina has been designed by the Italians for American pleasure. English is spoken everywhere, with a lovely accent, but everywhere. If you get concerned about not speaking the language, fear not in Taormina. I find myself saying thank you instead of grazie. But everyone makes you feel like they are there for your pleasure, so I’ve been lulled into it.

How can you complain when this is breakfast? The last photo is of almond granita and brioche — a Sicilian standard breakfast. I know. And yes, Brad had waffles with maple syrup.

When I was a girl, there was a small stand that sold “slush”. It was called Uncle’s. Two flavors, almondade and lemonade. I always loved the almond and I still do. Mandorla in Italian.

So here are some photos of the hotel. It doesn’t do it justice. There are cloisters for silent meditation, medieval staircases, a courtyard with dripping bougainvillea, and the staff in elegant Italian outfits, and gardens and vistas at every turn. Trees dripping with fruit, flowers in vibrant colors, and a softness to all of it.

After my fourth plate of breakfast and second cappuccino, we headed to the 300 BC Greek Theatre. Again, Greeks built for plays with a view of Mount Etna, and the Romans rebuilt to slaughter humans and animals. And so it goes.

And then to the Public gardens

And then back through the labyrinth that is Taormina. Hundreds of restaurants, shops and alleys. Hoards of tourists and lots of tchotchkes. We escaped back to the tranquility of the hotel and let Francesca serve us our first (and perfect) pizza in Sicily. of course the chef sent out some fried anchovies to start.

And then the afternoon at the pool, reading (at least I read in Italian). We watched the film crew, we were served fresh nuts and biscotti, Brad ordered an iced tea (I can hear the barman swearing quietly) and we dipped in the pool.

And now back in luxurious robes, drinking wine, eating our Italian wedding cake and preparing for our dinner tonight. A pretty marvelous 20th wedding anniversary.

Big scoop – so the 40 year old tech giants at the pool are actually the production company for HBO’s The White Lotus. My mistake. They all look the same to me.

https://www.hbo.com/the-white-lotus

They are all here filming at the Hotel. There was a crew on the water all day filming a scene on a boat. At least 10 employees were around the pool enjoying themselves all day in a $2000 cabana with drinks flowing— like no production company Jeffrey has ever worked for.

Taormina has a lovely, touristy downtown, but also some tasteful homes and apartments.

The hotel is gorgeous, and it makes me feel like Principessa.

The highlight of the evening was meeting Luca Casablanca, owner of Tischi Toschi and Sergio our waiter and showman extraordinaire. Unassuming little place on a side street with a dozen tables. Food, service and ambiance are perfectly real and true. This might not look like much but the food was some of the best we have eaten.

Yotam Ottolenghi recommended it, and with good reason. Food is perfectly prepared, but service — the best. Sergio made a party with the whole restaurant. Extra wine, homemade liqueurs, and lots of laughter were generously distributed. The spirit of Italy is here in this restaurant.

Now if I can just spot Michael Imperioli around the hotel tomorrow……

Okay, so it’s even more beautiful than I remember. Perfection has a place. We may not leave the hotel. Ever.

We arrived like royalty. Everyone in the hotel addressed us by our name. Our bags were whisked away, a fresh sparkling juice was presented, and we were taken to a cloister to await our room (we were early).

When our upgraded oceanfront suite was ready, we were brought through this gorgeously restored 17th century palazzo into our suite with a lovely gift from our children. I immediately burst into tears from the beautiful emotion of it all.

Unpack, bathing suit on and head to the pool. Gorgeousness.

And then 2 guys from New York started a very loud conversation with us and the spell was broken. Everyone was speaking English, American English. No one is even trying to speak Italian. Okay, get a hold of yourself. Brad had a much needed full conversation with two men about the securities industries. He was delighted to say more than please and thank you. They were nice (loud) men.

Then there was the whole hip group of tech millionaires in several cabanas wearing comfortable clothes and drinking far too much. The 35 year old capo was secluded in a far cabana with his laptop, the girls kept checking in with him — right out of Succession.

Back at the room, the door bell rang, and in came a Sicilian wedding cake and champagne for us. Nice touch, and the waiter spoke Italian. Back to La Dolce Vita!

We are in the back of the car, with our favorite driver, Giovanni, regaling us with stories of his wife and child and the surrounding towns. We will be in Sicily do a few more days, but a different Sicily — the American version, I fear.

Noto is a tourist town, but a tourist town that caters to Italians. We did not meet many English speakers. It is run down by American standards, but that is the point — Brad said it took a lot of time to make this patina. Why do we feel the need to make everything perfect? The aging of the buildings here is like the aging of women and men — it gets more interesting, not less. Yes, you need to do repairs and maintenance, but isn’t it supposed to exude a bit of history? Shouldn’t you be curious about it’s past? There’s a mystery to it that speaks to me and always has. It’s why I hate Disneyland and love Europe — there is mystery and stories to discover. I’ve always preferred older men, older homes, older people — there is a depth to it all.

Taormina will be Sicily very well taken care of and suitable for framing. And I want to go, and it will be extraordinary, and we will enjoy it tremendously, but it won’t capture my heart the way Ortigia did 30 years ago, and still does.

The Sicilians, like the Maltese, are a very cosmopolitan bunch. They travel, they read, they discuss world politics over coffee and they realize how long it takes for things to change. They look at their centuries’ old towns and rest knowing that even if an earthquake comes and destroys it all, they will rebuild and go on. Now there is a whole group of mostly southern Italians that are so beaten down by generations of discrimination and suppression that are pro Putin and Le Pen. They like the strong man because he makes them them feel the power they will never have. I feel for them — they are lost, have been ignored and feel they will never be recognized. Their only hope is to throw their lot in with the aggressor that promises to protect them and gives them crumbs after taking the rest for himself. It’s an ancient tale, and one that survives. I see it more clearly here, as we always do when we’re away from our environment.

This always happens. We just get settled — we know our way around, we start speaking to the same folks in the morning, we’re comfortable in this place and it’s time to go. When will we learn?

We sauntered out at about 7:30 for aperitivo at the roof terrazzo of the Hotel Gagliardi, just down the block. At 8:45 we began looking for a restaurant. By 9:00 we were seated at Norma’s new place and had a leisurely dinner till 10:30. We came home and chatted with Gaetano at the desk — we tell him everything about our days — and then we clamber into freshly ironed sheets and poofy duvets. We’re just getting the hang of it and we leave for Taormina tomorrow.

Food was wonderful at Norma’s, but no pictures tonight — the mercato was enough food pictures today. I’ll leave you with images of Noto at night. Bonne Notte.

Siracusa is large and noisy and busy and full of life. Conquered every few hundred years over the ages, with extensive ruins dating back to 600 BC. The original inhabitants were the Sciculi, from the Black Sea (think Romanians) who became slaves for the Greeks. They gave way to the Romans, the Byzantines, the Ottomans, Vikings, Spanish, French, and on it goes.

We started at the archeological site with the Ear of Dionysius and the Greek Theatre. Dating back to 500 BC this ancient culture was producing plays for 15,000, had parking for horses during the shows, and built huge temples. It’s sort of amazing.

Now the Romans used the same theatre several hundred years later to murder people for sport. Then the Spanish, another several hundred years later, deconstructed much of what the Greeks did to make forts (stone was already cut).

The Italians have preserved what is left (after taking it from the Noble families) and every year spend one month covering the stone seats of the theatre with wood (to preserve it) and hold Greek plays in May and June. That is a bucket list trip if ever there was one!

And then the Archeo Cats….. cats that live in the archeology park.

Speaking of history, I connected with friends that I met in Siracusa almost 30 years ago. Giuseppe and Sabrina are cousins that I connected with on Compuserve (how many of you remember that name?) and then met in Siracusa. Giuseppe treated us to traditional Sicilian lunch in the mercato.

And now for the mercato! Siracusa has a daily market in its center. The fruit and vegetables and fish and meat and nuts and spices are a bit of heaven for me. How about we rent an apartment with a great kitchen next May and go the the market in the morning, cook in the afternoon and go to the Greek theatre at night? Who’s with me???

And no trip to a Sicilian city is complete without a church trip. The Cattedrale in Siracusa is other worldly. An Ancient Greek temple with Doric columns have been cemented together to make a Catholic Church. This structure has been here since 500 years before Christ and has always been used for worship.

I am now back in my palazzo wearing a fluffy robe with a cashmere throw at my feet while eating an orange that I bought in the market, deciding where I will go out to eat another Sicilian meal in this ancient town that feels comfortable to me. Life could be worse.

We met our guide, Paolo this morning after another perfect breakfast and decided to take in all the UNESCO Baroque sites in Sicily today.

In 1693 there was a major earthquake that leveled most of Southeastern Sicily, destroying all of the medieval buildings — I mean all. Because it was a wealthy area, the Noble families and the churches all had the funds to rebuild. They rebuilt on top of old buildings in Ragusa, but built in different areas in Modica, Noto and Scicli. So everything we saw was built in the 1700’s and some in the 1800’s, but in the Baroque style. Very different than our Newburyport buildings of this same vintage.

We travelled through orange groves, carob plantations, olive groves and almond orchards. The smell of the orange blossoms was intoxicating. Limestone walls, fields of poppies, wildflowers were everywhere. Sicily isn’t tidy — it’s rough and poor and fertile and full of tragedy and rebirth. It is very much like Transylvania and it touches me.

And then there are the churches….

One of the highlights was a visit to Cinabro Carretieri in Ragusa Ibla. These are the last of the artisans that build and paint the Sicilian Carrozze, the Ferrari of the 1800’s. Special ironworks that tinkle, ornamented in every way possible, these carts have been commissioned by Dolce and Gabbana. Rock star carvers and painters.

Brad was delighted and fascinated, and actually owns some of the tools they use.

Next was Modica, a food capital of this region and the home of European chocolate. The Sicilians were brought the cocoa from Mexico via the Spaniards. The chocolate was bitter, so the Italians, being Italian, improved the recipe. They added sugar and spices and came up with a crunchy, delicately seasoned treat. Paolo took us to the best chocolatier, and you all may be lucky enough to taste this when I get home. This chocolatier has the first chocolate aging cave where chocolate is placed with herbs and spices and infused with flavors. Here you have nutmeg chocolate.

Next was Scicli, home of one the best cannolis in Italy and the film set for Commisario Montalbano. I took a picture on the set.

And I leave you with videos of the cannoli being made and eaten. Buon appetito!

Noto is a special little Sicilian town that was having a very busy, warm Sunday. We started the day with a glorious breakfast in our room as only the Italians can with a perfect dish for every item and the most glorious orange juice on the planet.

We headed out, duly fortified, and what did we find? A car show!

An almond granita, another cappuccino, and we were off to Palazzo Costaluccio for a private tour. Little did we know that the Palazzo had been given to the Order of Malta 40 years ago! Blessedly bought in 2011 by a French film maker, it has been brought to life. For your ogling pleasure

The church, a walk down Corso Vittorio Emanuele, a look at some ceramics, a light Sicilian lunch of orange salad, sardine beccafico, and tomato’s with ricotta salata, we headed back to OUR palazzo for a snooze. Brad is getting into this Mediterranean lifestyle.

Another walk, up hills, more churches, more baroque palazzos, a garden, some almonds…. Then another rest to dress for dinner.

Noto is an interesting town. It has these beautiful palazzos, excellent restaurants, gorgeous churches and municipal buildings, but it has a really large poor population. These jewel structures are in amongst some very run down buildings with old fashioned TV antennas and rusted satellite dishes. It reminds me very much of Romania. There are not many jobs for the people, the government handouts are an education in graft, and the poor get poorer. I hope the tourism business turns this all around. At any rate,we did our part and went out for a fancy dinner (again).

Ridiculously good food at Ristorante Crosificcio. At 8:00 we were the first guests by 30 minutes. We were also better dressed than every one of the patrons that filled the restaurant by 9:30 when we left! What has happened to all the fashionistas? Jeans and white sneakers rule the world. We Principessas are a dying breed.

Oh, and Viva la France! Macron won!!!

The ferry from Malta to Sicily is a dream. Fast, easy, no customs. We lucked out on a 700 passenger boat with just 10 people. Glorious crossing on a sparkling day.

Our driver, Giovanni, met us with great flourish and typical Sicilian warmth. As dusk was setting we were driven on a new Autostrada that was completed last month. Huge improvement from 30 years ago. We drove past olive and almond orchards into the town of Noto by nightfall. We backed into what looked like an alley, but turned out to be the courtyard of Nicolacci Palace. Our hotel, Seven Rooms Villadorata, is one wing of the palace.

There may be seven rooms, but we were given 11 keys! Gaetano at the desk was wonderful at explaining, but it was almost a Saturday Night Live skit. The outer room door, the inner room door, the front door fob, the courtyard door, the garage entrance door, the key to the safe….. Maybe tomorrow it will make more sense. Right now, a good meal and a bed are all I’m looking for.

We made a dinner reservation at Manna in the courtyard of the hotel, and had a magnificent meal. And the wine…. I don’t even like wine, but we had a local white (Ciuri, terrazze dell’Etna) and local red (Nero D’Avola from Palermo) that were out of this world. Followed by a beet spuma with pecorino, an artichoke salad with a lemon oil dressing, lentil soup with marinated ricotta, veal loin and sea bream with capers for the price of lunch for 3 at the Ritz in Amelia.

And thus day 4 of the sojourn ends. Picture us under perfectly pressed sheets, chandelier above, and the scent of orange blossoms wafting in from the terrace. Buona Notte.

I have a few photos for you, but this trip was much more about connecting with Malta than visiting it.

It is an island south of Sicily, 30 miles long by 14 miles wide. So much of it was built by the Knights of Malta in the 1500’s. There are a few walled cities, but mostly towns and villages. The Maltese are a mixture of Arabs and Europeans and their food and culture dates back thousands of years. As a people thier sensibilities lean toward understanding, kindness and the knowledge that all things will pass. Their family roots are deep, their children are cherished, and their zest for life is all important.

Chazy’s friends, Paul and Gino, are as I remember them — fun and witty and intelligent and lovable. They embraced Brad and me like long lost family, and we spent our days together drinking in dive bars instead of visiting cathedrals. The cathedrals will be there — more important to say hello to the owner, chat with the staff and talk with friends and laugh and cry.

We met three cats in Malta and found them to be rather aloof. We saw many walled cities, smelled lemon blossoms with every breeze, and managed to scrounge a few loquats. We saw a parade of Knights with torches, heard the lilting Maltese accents in every cafe, discussed international politics with our driver, a bass player and a real estate agent and were reminded why Chazy fell for the place.

It has been a very emotional trip for me, more than I anticipated. I’ve left my sister where she is happy and free, but I have left her none the less. Her last wish completed. The ending to the story.

I’m crossing the beautiful blue waters of the Mediterranean as I’m writing this. Heading to Sicily to stay in yet another palace. I hadn’t thought of it till now, but I only booked hotels that were former 17th century palaces — no wonder I travel dressed like a Principessa.