Here we were at Gatwick airport, 18 adults, 13 children (and one on the way) combining for 56 pieces of luggage filled with stuffed toys and European speedos for a week’s break to the magnificent island of Sicily. All aboard!
The first thing that strikes you when you land at Catania, on the islands east coast, is the sheer size and imposition of the volcano, Etna (known as Muncibeddu in Sicilian – don’t try that with a mouthful of biscotti!). As we rounded the mount for our landing, the digital photo enthusiasts furiously snapped away at this magnificent and active volcano. As we landed we were filled with anticipation of our ‘dolce vita’ ahead and hoping the locals would be just as excited to receive us – this rag tag group of internationals descending on their sleepy and relaxed villages. Off we go!
So, what it is like when you meet a Sicilian?
A sultry, moody, brooding temperament that is ready to explode at the slightest seismic shift from some well-meaning travellers awkwardly reciting their Year 9 Italian (they speak Sicilian if you ask the locals). A predilection for beheading horses or kissing strangers on the forehead marking them for some inglorious fate. Dressed immaculately in Gucci loafers and some exotic fine Italian threads sipping espressos and gesticulating exuberantly about the issues of the day. Hollywood has a lot to answer for my little friends!
The Sicilians are extremely welcoming and have (in this humble opinion) perfected ‘gastrunumia’! The food is first class and the produce is local, fresh and cooked with purpose and love. Arancini balls the size of your fist, tomatoes bursting with flavour and ‘real’ lemonade from a few well-plucked pieces of the ellipsoidal yellow fruit all confirmed for these senses that food and art are no strangers.
Our lodgings for this week were going to be at the majestic and linguistically acrobatic ‘Rocca delle Tre Contrade’. The GPS co-ordinates made it easy to parachute into the property but finding a suitable slip road to drive through was simple in theory but slightly tougher in execution. Once the diversion was safely negotiated there were further hazards to contend with such as the road ‘that used to be there’, a flat cat (yes, literally a flat cat!) and the little bridge over an old lava flow which brought the volcano literally to our doorstep. On arrival, our driver keenly drove, seemingly, off the cliff but simply braked inches from the descent and calmly reversed the 10-seater bus through a space unfitting the maker’s dimensions.
The setting of the house was jaw-dropping. This magnificent old building lovingly restored and perched upon a hill, with the sea to the east and the volcano to the west, inspired images of grandeur and a feeling of some sort of medieval aristocratic existence. It was imposing, beautiful, inviting and best of all we had seven days to kill with the ‘la famigghia’.
The imposing Mt Etna, always watching from the west, covered sporadically in snow, either baking in the Mediterranean sunshine or coyly peeping through cloud drawn up from the underlying areas towards the peak. The locals say that Etna rises and falls giving it an appearance and feel of breathing. The science tells us that there is a payload of liquid hot magma (ready to rain down at the slightest seismic murmuring) that is fluxing through heating and cooling that evokes this human characteristic. The lemon groves and hilltop position allowed us views up and down the coast, with the water seemingly a stone’s throw away (a morning running group proved conclusively that it wasn’t!).
The week that ensued was the perfect tonic for spending some quality time and harmonising with our partners, families, kids and the odd frog that made its way to the house from the lemon groves. The days were filled with sun, fun and laughter. The day trip to Etna found us severely underdressed for the sub-zero temperatures at the summit, though nothing that a few Arancini balls and a beer couldn’t fix at the summit café. The stone beaches of Taormina and the opportunistic plastic shoe footwear seller (he would casually reduce his prices by 80% within 3 seconds). The planning meetings in the cellar where fresh air was at a premium. Fit club, we can’t talk about it. The kids professional dance recital expertly conducted by Claire and the nightly story-telling, musical interludes and an array of jokes (the latter infinitely more interesting after a few G&T’s).
However all this aside, the real highlights were the things you couldn’t touch, ingest, film or buy. The trip allowed us to focus on friendship, fun, respect and togetherness which has helped to provide plenty of lifelong memories, feelings and stories.
And now, as time passes and life has gone back to normal, whenever we walk past one of the plentiful Italian restaurants here in London, the mind’s eye casts us back to the sights, sounds and Arancini balls of Sicily – ‘la bella vita’!
Ciao