I have been wondering, with all the little things that were going wrong, if either Etna or Sant'Agata (patron saint of Catania) was trying to dissuade us from staying here. I can't work out which and that is probably the problem, that I have been trusting in both of them and they are historically in conflict with each other. Or something. I know Sant'Agata "stopped" the lava flow. I expect she didn't really.
Despite thinking we were safe to use the "second" sink in the corner of the kitchen, until the landlord can come to fix the main one, I went to make myself a cup of tea and found myself paddling through water. Oh, I'll just mop that up, I thought, it must be from last time. I opened the door to under the sink. The bucket was full to the brim with water. How is that possible, I thought. It turned out Jo had used the washing machine, which was connected to the same pipes I suppose. I opened the door to the corridor, where the cleaning stuff is kept (it is a large flat) and joy, the water was sloshing all over the floor, in the little room. Definitely don't want to be a plumber now.
Yesterday I checked out the local Sunday market. Far from finding a light duvet (it's getting colder) or any house-y things, it was only veg and cheese. But everyone was there, jostling at the stalls, and the veg was fresh and cheap. I have more broccoli than I could ever eat for €1 and I bought a large pepper and a fennel for 80 cents together! I made some rather delicious pasta with broccoli and a ricotta nut sauce (out of a jar). The freshness of the broccoli was amazing. Very tasty, and with vitamins literally going straight into my bloodstream with every mouthful.
On the way back from the market I passed some religious types who were doing the old Sunday call for other religious types, trying to save you at the roadside with a microphone and a guitar. There was some painful singing. You could still get the general gist, I mean you know what these people say in English so it was quite easy to pick out all the stuff about Jesus dying so you can live, etc etc. I walked on by. Reminded me of a picture of Jesus we saw in the ice cream parlour back in Giardini Naxos. He looked quite handsome. Jo remarked at the time that even Jesus had to look good for the Italians, and that if there was a "sexy Jesus" at the church, she might be persuaded to go herself.
Today things are looking up: the landlord and his dad fixed a growing list of small things that needed fixing, so everything in the flat should now be working! Jo went to the gym, finally, after trying to join for 7 weeks, and came back on some sort of endorphin-high. Thank god she loved it. I had a nice lunch with my workmate and her Italian boyfriend who was quite encouraging when I tried to say a few things in Italian. Best news of the day, my phone is back on (hooray!!!!) and I bought some small boots, and another purchase, that are like an Ian Dury song :) The only downside is having confused the pre-intermediates about the past continuous. I knew I would.
It's still warm here. Still not coat weather. We were sat outside having lunch. Madness.
Monday, 10 November 2014
Sunday, 9 November 2014
The House of Him
As a glance at my sidebar will tell you, I am a big fan of writer and inspirational Glasgow genius Robert Florence, who is a prolific, multi-talented and interesting guy. Since first chancing upon the understated comedy, "Empty" a few years back, I found my way to gloriously original "Burnistoun" and have been following Rab and co-writer/actor Iain Connell on Twitter ever since. Along with fellow Glaswegians like Greg Hemphill (Still Game), they create a real buzz about Glasgow, (all are big fans of the wrestling scene) and make it sound the place to be.
Small wonder then, that since its release, I have been dying to see Florence's low-budget debut film, "The House of Him", a horror film with a significant difference. (I suppose I should say this blog "contains spoilers" but that should not stop you reading.) With a cast of three "Burnistoun" faces, you know the standard of acting will be high. "The House of Him" delivers tension with a slow, growing terror as you begin to realise it is no ordinary horror. From the opening scene I was gripped - I stared at the screen as poor (but wonderful) Kirsty Strain slid to the floor. Louise Stewart surpassed herself as Anna, convincingly taking us with her through different emotions, as she confronted a nightmare situation. Richard Rankin's "Him" was captivating. We saw the real killer appear from behind the mask, his deceptively "normal", boyish good looks at odds with the image of psychotic, skull-masked murderer. The appearance of everyday life - the striped jumper was perfect - jarred with the unsettling violence.
It is no ordinary slasher film, as this killer is no exceptional psycho. This killer is not one killer, but representative of many: those who are hidden in plain view, in ordinary houses everywhere. This is the reality of some people's lives. Anna represents all women who are at the hands of violent and abusive men and do not know how to escape. Florence exposes the real horror that some women have to face every day: the horror of living with domestic abuse and the threat of murder. The radio gives reports of a strange horror going on throughout the country, giving instructions for those involved, and it becomes clear that this is not just about characters in a film, but something bigger.
The use of the one setting, an everyday house (somehow made more normal knowing it is Florence's mother's house), is very effective. The small details - which I imagine were already there - heighten the terrible situation in their mundanity. The embossed wallpaper. The light shade. The dainty china cups from which Rankin's killer sips his tea. The chairlift that has never looked so eerie, gliding up the stairs.
Given the vast sums that are splashed on blockbuster movies these days, Florence certainly gets every penny out of his budget (less than £1000) and it is no poorer for it. In fact, it feels focused on the essentials. Florence Junior makes an impressive appearance - you just know that she could follow in her parents' talented footsteps. I cannot omit to mention the subtle and effective score, by Iain Cook and David Simpson. It raises the tension just at the right moments, and adds to the growing unease throughout the film.
It's certainly interesting to see a serious side to the Burnistoun team's repertoire and I am sure that there is more to come. I find it personally inspiring to see such creative people, who have the initiative to make their visions reality. It is also great to see how this can be used for good, not only focussing attention on an important issue, but actively supporting charities through the promotion of the film. Future projects from Bold Yin, Florence and Connell's production company with House of Him producer, Joanne Daly, are certainly worth looking out for.
Rent "The House of Him" from Vimeo now, for less than the price of a pint.
It is no ordinary slasher film, as this killer is no exceptional psycho. This killer is not one killer, but representative of many: those who are hidden in plain view, in ordinary houses everywhere. This is the reality of some people's lives. Anna represents all women who are at the hands of violent and abusive men and do not know how to escape. Florence exposes the real horror that some women have to face every day: the horror of living with domestic abuse and the threat of murder. The radio gives reports of a strange horror going on throughout the country, giving instructions for those involved, and it becomes clear that this is not just about characters in a film, but something bigger.
The use of the one setting, an everyday house (somehow made more normal knowing it is Florence's mother's house), is very effective. The small details - which I imagine were already there - heighten the terrible situation in their mundanity. The embossed wallpaper. The light shade. The dainty china cups from which Rankin's killer sips his tea. The chairlift that has never looked so eerie, gliding up the stairs.
Given the vast sums that are splashed on blockbuster movies these days, Florence certainly gets every penny out of his budget (less than £1000) and it is no poorer for it. In fact, it feels focused on the essentials. Florence Junior makes an impressive appearance - you just know that she could follow in her parents' talented footsteps. I cannot omit to mention the subtle and effective score, by Iain Cook and David Simpson. It raises the tension just at the right moments, and adds to the growing unease throughout the film.
It's certainly interesting to see a serious side to the Burnistoun team's repertoire and I am sure that there is more to come. I find it personally inspiring to see such creative people, who have the initiative to make their visions reality. It is also great to see how this can be used for good, not only focussing attention on an important issue, but actively supporting charities through the promotion of the film. Future projects from Bold Yin, Florence and Connell's production company with House of Him producer, Joanne Daly, are certainly worth looking out for.
Rent "The House of Him" from Vimeo now, for less than the price of a pint.
Saturday, 8 November 2014
spoke too soon
Jo and I sat and actually did some Italian today which felt good. She learns very fast, being fluent in French; I'm sure it helps. I popped out to the local shops in the evening slot, when they open again from about 4 til 8. It is a nice time actually, to be out browsing - it feels quite busy. I struggled through a few exchanges with shop assistants, including one with the guy whose shop I pass daily on way to school. We are now at last on speaking terms, although I'm never sure quite what form of address to use to him. Jo is sensible and reminded me of what my mother says - use back to them what they say to you. Which is ok if you hear it, or if they speak first. Anyway, he used a bit of English too and made out his English was awful - I couldn't detect anything wrong with it. I wanted to get some chocolates as a thank you for the boot incident on Friday - everything seemed very expensive in his shop, but not seeing any alternatives in my price range, I let him talk me into buying some chocolates - he'd already started wrapping them actually. I thought, if I want to make friends I will have to buy things in people's shops. But then all such items seem expensive round here. We left with him suggesting we swap English and Italian with each other. Perfect. Especially as he reminds me of Steve and Mikel Urdangarin mixed together. Oh and he's younger than I thought he was too.
So I arrived back home feeling that things might finally be looking up; although in very small steps. I mean it's fine, I'm not complaining really. But I allowed this tiny thought of happiness too much free rein because in the next second, as I was washing up, I heard a clunk and a gush and to my unbridled delight I found part of the sink had come off in the cupboard below and water was filling the cupboard. Mopping it up put paid to my latest whim of retraining as a plumber. I hitched up my new cheap jeans (€12) from the Chinese shop, and broke the bit the belt goes through. Of course I did, because nothing can go right for too long haha. Out of all the things I did not bring, a needle and thread would have been useful and I bet would not have put me over my weight limit either :)
So I arrived back home feeling that things might finally be looking up; although in very small steps. I mean it's fine, I'm not complaining really. But I allowed this tiny thought of happiness too much free rein because in the next second, as I was washing up, I heard a clunk and a gush and to my unbridled delight I found part of the sink had come off in the cupboard below and water was filling the cupboard. Mopping it up put paid to my latest whim of retraining as a plumber. I hitched up my new cheap jeans (€12) from the Chinese shop, and broke the bit the belt goes through. Of course I did, because nothing can go right for too long haha. Out of all the things I did not bring, a needle and thread would have been useful and I bet would not have put me over my weight limit either :)
Tropical cyclone!
Well, clearly that amount of rain is not normal, which is a relief. Overnight we were hit by a tropical cyclone that also hit Malta - there is not much on the news about it yet but it looks as if it did a lot of damage along the east coast here.
It started off, as you know, with the rain. Then when I was in bed I could hear this faint whistling. Just faint enough to be annoying. I told myself it was just the wind. But the wind picked up and soon it was raining hard again and the wind was getting louder. Well it just went on and on throughout the night and at times the wind was extremely strong and loud, roaring between the flats in a way that reminded me of the storm of 1987. It wasn't quite that loud but sometimes there were gusts that made me want to hide under the bedclothes.
A door was banging somewhere, quite violently, and quite frequently. There are a lot of doors onto balconies here and they're not all that strong looking. I got up more than once to check that our doors were all secure, padding around in the dark to check that the rain and wind was not coming in. I was glad to see our pigeon huddled up for protection, well under cover, at about 4.00am.
The wind and rain just kept on, and so I remembered to pull down my window covers (I have forgotten the word haha!) and just kept a small gap open so I could see out. There were some weird sounds coming from the street - things flying about probably and bits of things breaking off things. At one point there was the unmistakeable sound of breaking glass. And more door banging. And other weird noises.
Sometimes I think Catania is like an orchestra, everything seems to fit together somehow, but an orchestra playing one of those modern discordant pieces of music. It certainly felt like it last night. Dogs and neighbours were surprisingly quiet. But I still didn't get much sleep, if any. I got to the stage where my eyes were hurting, I wanted to sleep that much.
So this morning everything has passed and fallen quiet and I have yet to go out and see for myself what damage has been done. It is a good thing I have some sturdy boots to go out in. Our flat is intact, so that is good. Wow. A cyclone. I guess this is all part of the experience
Jo slept through the whole thing. Unbelievable.
It started off, as you know, with the rain. Then when I was in bed I could hear this faint whistling. Just faint enough to be annoying. I told myself it was just the wind. But the wind picked up and soon it was raining hard again and the wind was getting louder. Well it just went on and on throughout the night and at times the wind was extremely strong and loud, roaring between the flats in a way that reminded me of the storm of 1987. It wasn't quite that loud but sometimes there were gusts that made me want to hide under the bedclothes.
A door was banging somewhere, quite violently, and quite frequently. There are a lot of doors onto balconies here and they're not all that strong looking. I got up more than once to check that our doors were all secure, padding around in the dark to check that the rain and wind was not coming in. I was glad to see our pigeon huddled up for protection, well under cover, at about 4.00am.
The wind and rain just kept on, and so I remembered to pull down my window covers (I have forgotten the word haha!) and just kept a small gap open so I could see out. There were some weird sounds coming from the street - things flying about probably and bits of things breaking off things. At one point there was the unmistakeable sound of breaking glass. And more door banging. And other weird noises.
Sometimes I think Catania is like an orchestra, everything seems to fit together somehow, but an orchestra playing one of those modern discordant pieces of music. It certainly felt like it last night. Dogs and neighbours were surprisingly quiet. But I still didn't get much sleep, if any. I got to the stage where my eyes were hurting, I wanted to sleep that much.
So this morning everything has passed and fallen quiet and I have yet to go out and see for myself what damage has been done. It is a good thing I have some sturdy boots to go out in. Our flat is intact, so that is good. Wow. A cyclone. I guess this is all part of the experience
Jo slept through the whole thing. Unbelievable.
Friday, 7 November 2014
An unexpected kindness
The rain has come and it is torrential. The thunder was so loud last night (just the one clap to be fair) that I jumped. But the rain here lashes down and just does not drain away.
I popped back home between lessons for something and when I had to go back it was hammering down. I looked out. The roads were flooded, which is what seems to happen every time it rains hard. There was no other thing for it; I had to go in. Yes, I know I should have come prepared but I had been planning to get things this weekend - I've been ill with a cold, so I have not had chance to get a pair of boots or an umbrella. I left these in England. Well I was coming to Sicily when it was 30 degrees and I had to leave something out of my suitcase.
All the roads round the school were like rivers. Literally - there were a few inches of water in the road in all directions. I set off with fifteen minutes to spare but walked up and down roads trying to find a dry spot to cross. After getting a foot full of water there really wasn't much point in worrying so in the end I had to brave it - there was literally nowhere dry to cross - and my feet were wet through. The worst thing possible when you are recovering from a cold, I know. So I went into school in the world's foulest mood, blaming all of Sicily (to myself) for its stupid weather (when the truth is the only one to blame was me, because I hadn't gone to buy the necessary stuff).
The office manager, my manager and one of the owners showed sincere concern, knowing that I was recuperating. They insisted I could not be left as I was, even when I had taken my shoes off to dry. Part way through my lesson there was a tap at the door. Valeria asked what shoe size I was. I thought she was perhaps going to hunt in lost property. A short while later I was asked to step out so I could try on a boot. Somehow Valeria's mother had become involved and had purchased a pair of boots for me from a boutique across the road. (I had walked past it and thought about going in to buy some boots, but thought better of it because I was already late for my class). I tried them on and walked up and down. It felt a bit like being at the shoe shop. "How are they?" they asked. I liked them - funnily enough they are almost the same design as the pair I have at home. I enquired after the cost, but the school owner very kindly insisted they were a present. Which I am still shocked by, in a good way.
I realise they probably all think I am a total idiot being unable to dress myself appropriately at my age, but it's been circumstances really, with me being ill and only here with minimum things. And I said how my entire family would be mortified and cross that I was not dressed appropriately. I do, thankfully, have my raincoat with me. But this weekend, now that I am better, I will buy a selection of winter items. It's not cold yet - it was 20 degrees yesterday in the rain which was weird. But it is not summer any more. I did read it rained in November, before I came, but I dismissed it (it's Sicily. How can it rain?) and the truth is I did not have space in my case for everything I needed. God knows what I did bring but it does not seem much now. I bought an umbrella on the way home. Not a cheapy one. A normal one.
So my faith has been restored in the Sicilian experience, a little. Things are starting to look up. Just slightly. Jo and I live to experience another day. It is still raining hard outside. We may not be going to the Botanical Gardens tomorrow but we will be doing some Italian lessons inside.
I popped back home between lessons for something and when I had to go back it was hammering down. I looked out. The roads were flooded, which is what seems to happen every time it rains hard. There was no other thing for it; I had to go in. Yes, I know I should have come prepared but I had been planning to get things this weekend - I've been ill with a cold, so I have not had chance to get a pair of boots or an umbrella. I left these in England. Well I was coming to Sicily when it was 30 degrees and I had to leave something out of my suitcase.
All the roads round the school were like rivers. Literally - there were a few inches of water in the road in all directions. I set off with fifteen minutes to spare but walked up and down roads trying to find a dry spot to cross. After getting a foot full of water there really wasn't much point in worrying so in the end I had to brave it - there was literally nowhere dry to cross - and my feet were wet through. The worst thing possible when you are recovering from a cold, I know. So I went into school in the world's foulest mood, blaming all of Sicily (to myself) for its stupid weather (when the truth is the only one to blame was me, because I hadn't gone to buy the necessary stuff).
The office manager, my manager and one of the owners showed sincere concern, knowing that I was recuperating. They insisted I could not be left as I was, even when I had taken my shoes off to dry. Part way through my lesson there was a tap at the door. Valeria asked what shoe size I was. I thought she was perhaps going to hunt in lost property. A short while later I was asked to step out so I could try on a boot. Somehow Valeria's mother had become involved and had purchased a pair of boots for me from a boutique across the road. (I had walked past it and thought about going in to buy some boots, but thought better of it because I was already late for my class). I tried them on and walked up and down. It felt a bit like being at the shoe shop. "How are they?" they asked. I liked them - funnily enough they are almost the same design as the pair I have at home. I enquired after the cost, but the school owner very kindly insisted they were a present. Which I am still shocked by, in a good way.
I realise they probably all think I am a total idiot being unable to dress myself appropriately at my age, but it's been circumstances really, with me being ill and only here with minimum things. And I said how my entire family would be mortified and cross that I was not dressed appropriately. I do, thankfully, have my raincoat with me. But this weekend, now that I am better, I will buy a selection of winter items. It's not cold yet - it was 20 degrees yesterday in the rain which was weird. But it is not summer any more. I did read it rained in November, before I came, but I dismissed it (it's Sicily. How can it rain?) and the truth is I did not have space in my case for everything I needed. God knows what I did bring but it does not seem much now. I bought an umbrella on the way home. Not a cheapy one. A normal one.
So my faith has been restored in the Sicilian experience, a little. Things are starting to look up. Just slightly. Jo and I live to experience another day. It is still raining hard outside. We may not be going to the Botanical Gardens tomorrow but we will be doing some Italian lessons inside.
Tuesday, 4 November 2014
Things here have taken a strange turn over the last week, as if the whole island is out to test us. I don't know why but everything certainly feels like a struggle.
Unfortunately it seems as if our fun trips out to wilder parts of Sicily will not be continuing. This is for reasons that don't belong in a blog but needless to say it is all a bit dramatic, like something out of a soap opera. I did not come here for drama; given that it's Sicily, maybe this was short-sighted. Funny that where Sicilian men seem to be involved, things take dramatic turns, whether it's our housemate, whose fiance got jealous of her talking to her mother's boyfriend, or another girl's Sicilian partner, who flounced off in a jealous sulk one night when she looked at someone else male. I don't think Montalbano is like this, but then again he is not real and he is not exactly faithful to the awful Livia.
Plus, this is only Catania, the noisiest, smelliest city on this side of the island. Taormina it is not and I will not forget the four weeks I had there, which were among the best in my life. No, Catania will not spoil the rest of Sicily for me, with its endless car horns and dogs barking!
Jo and I have plans to visit the Botanical Gardens - we found where they are (naturally, they were shut when we went, I mean it was inevitable), but they look rather nice. It has turned colder here and I have been suffering with a cold and cough - I could really have done without it as who needs to feel even lower when everything feels rubbish anyway. But I am taking it easy and have not been in to teach for the past 2 days. I should be okay tomorrow maybe.
We went out on Friday for a Halloween club night outside Catania somewhere. We both needed a bit of a blow-out to clear the cobwebs away and were quite pleased that the club seemed to be full of handsome young men (mostly they know it but who cares). They really are nicer looking than in the UK, despite other failings. I met a nice young man with blue eyes and he was keen to tell me how unusual this was in Sicily, as if I hadn't noticed for myself. Funnily enough my Italian seemed to suddenly improve after a drink or two (or so I recall).
I am without my phone, which is really very frustrating. It would be nice to be able to contact people. Trying to get a replacement is both time-consuming and far from straightforward, especially being here. But hopefully it can be done. It has just been one thing after another recently and we are beginning to think things would be better elsewhere. Who knows, perhaps the grass isn't greener but it is certainly easier when you can communicate - perhaps the school might sort out some Italian lessons for us finally after being here 6 weeks already. Oh we had the most farcical Health & Safety meeting the other day - what to do if there is an earthquake (drop, cover, hold on) and fire. The boss seemed apologetic that we had to sit through it, saying they had to do it because of legal reasons and there had never been a fire before. I said "so it's not because you don't want your staff to die in a fire." Everyone laughed but I wasn't joking, I was being serious. No one ever took Health & Safety seriously in the UK either, so why I am surprised I don't know.
Anyway, we can only try to make the best of it and keep finding nice things to eat and nice places to go. I can't post any photos :(
Unfortunately it seems as if our fun trips out to wilder parts of Sicily will not be continuing. This is for reasons that don't belong in a blog but needless to say it is all a bit dramatic, like something out of a soap opera. I did not come here for drama; given that it's Sicily, maybe this was short-sighted. Funny that where Sicilian men seem to be involved, things take dramatic turns, whether it's our housemate, whose fiance got jealous of her talking to her mother's boyfriend, or another girl's Sicilian partner, who flounced off in a jealous sulk one night when she looked at someone else male. I don't think Montalbano is like this, but then again he is not real and he is not exactly faithful to the awful Livia.
Plus, this is only Catania, the noisiest, smelliest city on this side of the island. Taormina it is not and I will not forget the four weeks I had there, which were among the best in my life. No, Catania will not spoil the rest of Sicily for me, with its endless car horns and dogs barking!
Jo and I have plans to visit the Botanical Gardens - we found where they are (naturally, they were shut when we went, I mean it was inevitable), but they look rather nice. It has turned colder here and I have been suffering with a cold and cough - I could really have done without it as who needs to feel even lower when everything feels rubbish anyway. But I am taking it easy and have not been in to teach for the past 2 days. I should be okay tomorrow maybe.
We went out on Friday for a Halloween club night outside Catania somewhere. We both needed a bit of a blow-out to clear the cobwebs away and were quite pleased that the club seemed to be full of handsome young men (mostly they know it but who cares). They really are nicer looking than in the UK, despite other failings. I met a nice young man with blue eyes and he was keen to tell me how unusual this was in Sicily, as if I hadn't noticed for myself. Funnily enough my Italian seemed to suddenly improve after a drink or two (or so I recall).
I am without my phone, which is really very frustrating. It would be nice to be able to contact people. Trying to get a replacement is both time-consuming and far from straightforward, especially being here. But hopefully it can be done. It has just been one thing after another recently and we are beginning to think things would be better elsewhere. Who knows, perhaps the grass isn't greener but it is certainly easier when you can communicate - perhaps the school might sort out some Italian lessons for us finally after being here 6 weeks already. Oh we had the most farcical Health & Safety meeting the other day - what to do if there is an earthquake (drop, cover, hold on) and fire. The boss seemed apologetic that we had to sit through it, saying they had to do it because of legal reasons and there had never been a fire before. I said "so it's not because you don't want your staff to die in a fire." Everyone laughed but I wasn't joking, I was being serious. No one ever took Health & Safety seriously in the UK either, so why I am surprised I don't know.
Anyway, we can only try to make the best of it and keep finding nice things to eat and nice places to go. I can't post any photos :(
Wednesday, 29 October 2014
Chestnuts and Etna
On Saturday we went to Trecastagni, which is not far away and had some nice winding streets and a church high up with a fantastic view (it was night) across the city and up towards Siracusa (Syracuse). We went to see a festival where there were some traditional singers, one playing the accordion and one singing in Sicilian. There were some huts like you have at German markets, with crafts and fruit and vegetables and other nice things. There were supposed to be some horses with traditional Sicilian carts, but sadly they were not there on that evening. Perhaps another time.
The next day we went on a trip by car to the places on the slopes of Etna - I'm not sure exactly of our route but I think we basically drove a long way around the volcano and took in lots of different places. There are lots of local food festivals taking place at this time, so it was very busy - the Sicilians obviously enjoy celebrating their produce and good for them - we saw some lovely olives growing, citrus fruit, and we have seen lots of lovely sweet chestnuts growing on the slopes of Etna.
Since it rained last week and has gone colder, Etna's peak is covered in snow! It looks so amazing. We went to the valley of the Alcantara river - Gab told me there are very few rivers in Sicily. This was amazing because the rocks there are (of course) volcanic and look exactly like something from a film set - the light grey colour and the "blocks" of them look like they are plastic or manufactured. It was quite distinctive and quite unusual. We clambered about over them, with Whiskey the dog leaping around with the usual agility of someone lucky enough to be on four legs when we are teetering on two. There were also many interesting plants including wild cyclamen, wild artichokes, wild fennel and some things which Jo and Gab had fun sticking to each other's backs. There were some amazing stripy leaves that looked like they had been painted. I also saw some black beetles - and the ants seem larger here.
This was west of Taormina, and north east of Etna. We also went to the the village of Lingua Glossa, where there were some nice paintings on many of the walls, and a nice cake / pastry shop.
Afterwards we drove higher up the side of Etna to a place where there were many sweet chestnut trees - most of the chestnuts had already fallen to the ground and been taken by people or creatures - we had fun trying to get them out without stabbing our hands. I have just been eating some and they are very nice. We saw a massive four hundred year old tree (not a chestnut?)
I finally got to have a prickly pear fruit - they have soft, watery orange flesh with big seeds in. They were okay - an acquired taste maybe - not unpleasant but they would be better without the seeds. They were not unlike watermelon, that is the closest I can think of.
The next day we went on a trip by car to the places on the slopes of Etna - I'm not sure exactly of our route but I think we basically drove a long way around the volcano and took in lots of different places. There are lots of local food festivals taking place at this time, so it was very busy - the Sicilians obviously enjoy celebrating their produce and good for them - we saw some lovely olives growing, citrus fruit, and we have seen lots of lovely sweet chestnuts growing on the slopes of Etna.
Since it rained last week and has gone colder, Etna's peak is covered in snow! It looks so amazing. We went to the valley of the Alcantara river - Gab told me there are very few rivers in Sicily. This was amazing because the rocks there are (of course) volcanic and look exactly like something from a film set - the light grey colour and the "blocks" of them look like they are plastic or manufactured. It was quite distinctive and quite unusual. We clambered about over them, with Whiskey the dog leaping around with the usual agility of someone lucky enough to be on four legs when we are teetering on two. There were also many interesting plants including wild cyclamen, wild artichokes, wild fennel and some things which Jo and Gab had fun sticking to each other's backs. There were some amazing stripy leaves that looked like they had been painted. I also saw some black beetles - and the ants seem larger here.
This was west of Taormina, and north east of Etna. We also went to the the village of Lingua Glossa, where there were some nice paintings on many of the walls, and a nice cake / pastry shop.
Afterwards we drove higher up the side of Etna to a place where there were many sweet chestnut trees - most of the chestnuts had already fallen to the ground and been taken by people or creatures - we had fun trying to get them out without stabbing our hands. I have just been eating some and they are very nice. We saw a massive four hundred year old tree (not a chestnut?)I finally got to have a prickly pear fruit - they have soft, watery orange flesh with big seeds in. They were okay - an acquired taste maybe - not unpleasant but they would be better without the seeds. They were not unlike watermelon, that is the closest I can think of.
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| If you squint you can just see the snow on the left...? |
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