Friday, August 15th, 2014
Amandine is always encouraging me to take advantage of free breakfasts and to eat a huge one. My stomach can't always play this game, even in the name of economy, but we tried our best to eat as much as could in Sciacca before driving to the next port of call. It is a little humiliating to suffer the worried stares of staff as we tuck in. They are surprised that I am capable of eating four hard boiled eggs in a row. But they have seen nothing yet. Call it our Sicilian diet. If our previous day was marked by a marathon of uncomfortable temple visiting, you could say that today was the light version. We decided to visit another site of ancient ruins, this time a few kilometres away from Sciacca. Firstly, it was easy and free to park. Always a blessing in these environs. Secondly, we discovered that we could be touted about in electric carts. We were also tempted by the look of a luxurious beach below the site that quite frankly held more appeal to me than seeing more temples but the promise was there. How clever to make large stones with u shaped carvings on them in order to haul them up hills more easily. They've got some serious skills these Greeks!
After the visit of the sites, which had its charms ( we walked around a real village that had the traces of wagon wheels still embedded in the mud). We drove down to the beach below and parked nextto a bakery. We relied on the bakery's knowledge of local parking to check if we were safe parked where we were. Conveniently, they also sold parking spaces. So we bought two arancias and parking peace of mind. It not every day that you can rollick in the sruf and look up at thousand year old temples on the hill but this was exactly where we found ourselves. Did the ancient peoples do the same thing? I suppose they were too busy figuring out how to defend themselves from the next invasion to think about bathing. The Carthaginians, The Saracens, The Normans! No time to think about beach towells. We spent four hours there and it felt like a moment.
We took the highway north in the direction of Palermo. We were heading toward Castellemare del Golfo. Catellemare held much promise. We were planning on staying there for four days and it was a town that Amandine had visited before and seemed to be fond of. It was next to a nature reserve. This is all I knew. Before we left, I casually mentioned that it would be good to fill the gas tank as we were running low. We passed a station before getting on to the main highway but gas seemed prohibitively expensice. It seemed like stations were gouging clients on these outposts before they hit the road so we thought were were smart for avoiding it. We played it cool. There was another station on the horizon. We pulled in. An Indian man stood outside, lonely and dejected by the pump. He sprang to attention once he realized that we were potential customers. I got out, also relieved but when I produced a French card to pay, he informed us that we could only pay cash or with an Italian credit card. I was tempted to mention that we were supposed to be in the EU which made such preferences irrelevant but we were already communicating on the most basic level. Credit cards didn't speak Italian, they only spoke the international language of green. Besides, we needed it to pay for other things. This whole country seemed to run on cash. We declined, reveling in the fact that we could still afford to make a statement. It still did not fix our gas problem. This turned out to be the beginning of a pathetic and perfectly useless adventure. Cars need gas to run and all signs on my dash board were pointing to the fact that we had been idiots to not fill up while we could. We were still 50 km outside Castellemare del Golfo when the mood in the car got deadly silent. The needle hitting read. If the car had an Italian word for "fool" it would have been flashing. No gas outside Salemi. Stations closed down since the 1970's. There were nothing but monuments to gas stations. I was beginning to think that Sicilians had figured out some genius new way of making their cars run because they obviously did not use petrol.
By the time we pulled into the outskirts of Catsellemare, we would have paid the crown jewells for a litre of fuel. We paid the attendant in cash. No more messing around. In my stress and confusion, I was in no mood to fight the battle for parking. We ended up a kilometer away from our residence by the water. We were trolls in the night, hauling our rolling suitcases behind us along the pebble lined streets of this quiet town. Every step felt like we were in marching band were waking up the sleepy neighborhoods during their nap time. We had to get the keys to our flat from the owner who lived close by. All this had been arranhged by internet so we were fairly surprised to discover an elderly mady was the brains behind it all. She was not there in her quiet apartment and instead left the settling in duties to A Robert De Niro look a like that we later learned was her son. He showed us the apartment we were to live in and it was perfect for us. We had that all important view of the harbor. One thing I have learned about myself is that I enjoy watchng fishing boats pull in and out of ports on holiday. This falt would provide us to the chance to witness activities like this in abundance. The pipes made a lot of noise in the bathroom. But we didn't care. We would sip white wine on the balcony and look at the harbor show. The harbor was marked by the remains of a castle. Hence the name of this town. It was protection against invaders, a rallying point and it was where Garibaldi celebrated his first major victory toward a united Italy. Not bad for a location. When we settled in, the town was transfixed by something happening in the water below. A small boat had over turned. We watched as a salvage crew were trying their best to work out the puzzle of how to get the boat upright and out of the water. It turned out to be the night's main event. Along the banisters, locals and tourists alike watched as ropes were attached and haumling was attempted. They got it up to the boat ramp but could go no further. Night was falling and it would have to be continued in the morning. Witnesses seemed disappointed. They would just have to go to dinner.
Before heading to dinner ourselves, we were scheduled to pay our respects to Maria, the owner of the flat. She invited us to sit down at her living room table where she proceeded to give us a small lecture on morality. This was before she took our money. She seemed very concerned that Amandine and I were not yet married. She heard that I was almost 40 and this was the straw that broke the camel's back. She wanted to know why I had not committed. I informed her politely that it was Amandine who was not interested in marriage and she assumed I was lying. Besides I said, rather than spending money on an expensive marriage was it not better to go on holidays like this? I knew I had made a good argument.
Amandine is always encouraging me to take advantage of free breakfasts and to eat a huge one. My stomach can't always play this game, even in the name of economy, but we tried our best to eat as much as could in Sciacca before driving to the next port of call. It is a little humiliating to suffer the worried stares of staff as we tuck in. They are surprised that I am capable of eating four hard boiled eggs in a row. But they have seen nothing yet. Call it our Sicilian diet. If our previous day was marked by a marathon of uncomfortable temple visiting, you could say that today was the light version. We decided to visit another site of ancient ruins, this time a few kilometres away from Sciacca. Firstly, it was easy and free to park. Always a blessing in these environs. Secondly, we discovered that we could be touted about in electric carts. We were also tempted by the look of a luxurious beach below the site that quite frankly held more appeal to me than seeing more temples but the promise was there. How clever to make large stones with u shaped carvings on them in order to haul them up hills more easily. They've got some serious skills these Greeks!
After the visit of the sites, which had its charms ( we walked around a real village that had the traces of wagon wheels still embedded in the mud). We drove down to the beach below and parked nextto a bakery. We relied on the bakery's knowledge of local parking to check if we were safe parked where we were. Conveniently, they also sold parking spaces. So we bought two arancias and parking peace of mind. It not every day that you can rollick in the sruf and look up at thousand year old temples on the hill but this was exactly where we found ourselves. Did the ancient peoples do the same thing? I suppose they were too busy figuring out how to defend themselves from the next invasion to think about bathing. The Carthaginians, The Saracens, The Normans! No time to think about beach towells. We spent four hours there and it felt like a moment.
We took the highway north in the direction of Palermo. We were heading toward Castellemare del Golfo. Catellemare held much promise. We were planning on staying there for four days and it was a town that Amandine had visited before and seemed to be fond of. It was next to a nature reserve. This is all I knew. Before we left, I casually mentioned that it would be good to fill the gas tank as we were running low. We passed a station before getting on to the main highway but gas seemed prohibitively expensice. It seemed like stations were gouging clients on these outposts before they hit the road so we thought were were smart for avoiding it. We played it cool. There was another station on the horizon. We pulled in. An Indian man stood outside, lonely and dejected by the pump. He sprang to attention once he realized that we were potential customers. I got out, also relieved but when I produced a French card to pay, he informed us that we could only pay cash or with an Italian credit card. I was tempted to mention that we were supposed to be in the EU which made such preferences irrelevant but we were already communicating on the most basic level. Credit cards didn't speak Italian, they only spoke the international language of green. Besides, we needed it to pay for other things. This whole country seemed to run on cash. We declined, reveling in the fact that we could still afford to make a statement. It still did not fix our gas problem. This turned out to be the beginning of a pathetic and perfectly useless adventure. Cars need gas to run and all signs on my dash board were pointing to the fact that we had been idiots to not fill up while we could. We were still 50 km outside Castellemare del Golfo when the mood in the car got deadly silent. The needle hitting read. If the car had an Italian word for "fool" it would have been flashing. No gas outside Salemi. Stations closed down since the 1970's. There were nothing but monuments to gas stations. I was beginning to think that Sicilians had figured out some genius new way of making their cars run because they obviously did not use petrol.
By the time we pulled into the outskirts of Catsellemare, we would have paid the crown jewells for a litre of fuel. We paid the attendant in cash. No more messing around. In my stress and confusion, I was in no mood to fight the battle for parking. We ended up a kilometer away from our residence by the water. We were trolls in the night, hauling our rolling suitcases behind us along the pebble lined streets of this quiet town. Every step felt like we were in marching band were waking up the sleepy neighborhoods during their nap time. We had to get the keys to our flat from the owner who lived close by. All this had been arranhged by internet so we were fairly surprised to discover an elderly mady was the brains behind it all. She was not there in her quiet apartment and instead left the settling in duties to A Robert De Niro look a like that we later learned was her son. He showed us the apartment we were to live in and it was perfect for us. We had that all important view of the harbor. One thing I have learned about myself is that I enjoy watchng fishing boats pull in and out of ports on holiday. This falt would provide us to the chance to witness activities like this in abundance. The pipes made a lot of noise in the bathroom. But we didn't care. We would sip white wine on the balcony and look at the harbor show. The harbor was marked by the remains of a castle. Hence the name of this town. It was protection against invaders, a rallying point and it was where Garibaldi celebrated his first major victory toward a united Italy. Not bad for a location. When we settled in, the town was transfixed by something happening in the water below. A small boat had over turned. We watched as a salvage crew were trying their best to work out the puzzle of how to get the boat upright and out of the water. It turned out to be the night's main event. Along the banisters, locals and tourists alike watched as ropes were attached and haumling was attempted. They got it up to the boat ramp but could go no further. Night was falling and it would have to be continued in the morning. Witnesses seemed disappointed. They would just have to go to dinner.
Before heading to dinner ourselves, we were scheduled to pay our respects to Maria, the owner of the flat. She invited us to sit down at her living room table where she proceeded to give us a small lecture on morality. This was before she took our money. She seemed very concerned that Amandine and I were not yet married. She heard that I was almost 40 and this was the straw that broke the camel's back. She wanted to know why I had not committed. I informed her politely that it was Amandine who was not interested in marriage and she assumed I was lying. Besides I said, rather than spending money on an expensive marriage was it not better to go on holidays like this? I knew I had made a good argument.
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