NOVEMBER 5 - 17, 2001: Happy Thanksgiving! Or, in Sicilian: Happy Thanksgiving, now pay up or youse sleeps with the Fishes. We start in Sicily, where the mafia is supposed to still be a formidable presence. We fly from Athens to Naples (via Munich and a 5 hour layover, thanks to the Lufthansa and the Star Alliance) and then take a quick flight to Catania. The first thing we hear in Sicily, as the plane touches down, is that there is a baggage handlers strike. So two strikes in two EU countries and counting. The German aviators figure it out however, and we head into town. A quick and marvelous pizza dinner (it is a university town) and we rediscover, too late, how much bigger a liter of wine is than an ordinary bottle. 

For a change of pace after renting a car in both Turkey and Greece, we are traveling by bus, so we take two of them west, to the Valley of the Temples, just outside Argrigento. Interestingly, the 4-hour bus ride costs about the same as the 10-minute taxi ride to our hotel once we get to the terminal. It turns out taxis are expensive - at dinner (after another taxi ride), when we are trying to call a taxi to get us, and mention that the five-minute ride is equal to a bottle of pretty good wine, and expressing our obvious preference for the latter, the owner insists on driving us home, stopping twice to admire the temples in the full moon. 

The temples are quite striking: we see them a little closer the next day -- some of the best-preserved Roman architecture, and have a hurried review of Doric, Ionic and Corinthian columns. On, by bus again, to Ragusa. Once again, we have to connect. Once again we have to take a taxi. We get to the hotel, a converted convent which sports an impressive variety of activities (hiking, biking) in the nearby, self-described rustic countryside. The convent even has a full suit of arms in the reception area, complete with a formidable axe. We have a good dinner, and rise excited for an active day. It is an unfortunate farce: the bicycles are rusty and with flat tires, and after talking to the attendant it is clear that no one on the hotel staff has actually done the hike. Still, we strike out with directions for two routes to Plaka Castle. There are two signs, one 10 feet from the hotel, the other about 200 yards. That's it. For both the signs and the trail, as the dirt road quickly turns to brambles. We try to go around on the roads, where the scenery is barren, and mainly features some impressive mixes of trash on the side. Finally a delivery truck stops and asks where we are going. It becomes clear that we are heading nowhere and that nobody, at least since the Inquisition, has ever walked to Plaka Castle, voluntarily or not. 

We are in general good humor anyway, which fades the next morning: Heather has, as always, checked the price of our room with the front desk, however at check out they inform us that this was per person. And they don't believe us when we say that every other hotel we have stayed in charge by the room (slight variation for two people). And they accuse us of trying to cheat them for even bringing it up. And they say mean things about us in Italian, some of which we get the general gist. And I wonder if the suit-of-armor's axe is functioning. We use our impressive business skills to get a $1.75 discount or so (note: hire Sicilian negotiators) and are off, with significantly lighter wallets. Needless to say: avoid Ragussa. 

We have one victory: we decided to rent a car. The company actually comes to get us for half of what it would cost in a taxi, and off we go. We drive first to Noto, where we browse the town. It is quite impressive - beautiful, if decaying, baroque buildings (the dome of the cathedral fell in a few years back as an example of the neglect). Apparently, one of the problems is that when the Italian gov, or the EU, give money for restoration not much actually happens (the money sleeps with the fishes) except some scaffolding gets put up (and this could well be the national symbol of much of Sicily). But what is still standing is magnificent, in a light, almost rusty sandstone. After a few hours in Noto we cruise on to Siracusa, pleasant, with winding side streets and some more marvelous baroque. Then off to Taromina. 

Taromina is the first place that really fills us with wonder -- high on hill with sweeping views of the coast, and a charming town, and splendid gardens. The second day we head off to climb Mount Etna, the highest active volcano in Europe. We drive to the base camp - about 9k feet - where we are supposed to be able to take a gondola further up. It is a cold day, with fog and cloud cover. The gondola is not running, and our limited Italian does not help us understand why. So we head off on foot, and soon see that a lava flow (from the summer) pretty much took out the whole station. If you have never seen volcanic lava fields, they are had to describe -- sort of what I had in mind the first time I read The Wasteland. It is a remarkable sight, more so by the swirling wind pushing clouds around. We hike about 2 hours, get glimpses of the snow-covered peak and head down. Quite stunning. 

After Tarimino we hop back on a plane to the Almafi Coast. It is stunning. We spend three days in Ravello and two in Poistano. Both of these are charming towns, and we hike. The first of these is a long, uphill climb. Given a lack of signs and trail markers we have a kind of hub-and-spoke approach: follow a path, if it falters head back and try again. We thus get a impressive tour of some lemon farms. We find, and the top of the valley, an old convent. Our descent is also lovely, down the recesses of a valley, and unfortunately, as we get to the bottom, a different valley -- we have managed to move over a whole town. Luckily we have some money with us, and after explaining to a taxi driver that we are looking for our car, actually manage to get him to drive us over one valley and up. The Almafi Coast is really one of the great places in our travels (possibly particularly in off-season). All in all, Sicily was somewhat disappointing, possibly due to our own mistakes (remember, rent a car from day one), but the Almafi Coast made up for it. Now Barcelona beckons. 

on to spain...