Mediterranean Haze

Feb. 23-24, 2017

First order of business on Thursday was to go to the Piazza Duomo to see the Jewelry Man. He makes fantastic pieces—necklaces, bracelets, earrings—from wire that he weaves into intricate shapes.

Joanna had found a heart-shaped piece of weathered glass in the gravel at Castello Maniace. She had asked the Jewelry Man if he could do something to make the piece attach to a gold chain.

That was Wednesday and he was working with white wire at the time. He said come back Thursday when he would have yellow. So we did.

He wound wire around the stone and then fashioned a small ring where a chain could pass. He offered it to Joanna for free. When we paid him 5 euro, he made her a wire flower as a gift.

We went back to the bay, which is down a side street from the Piazza Duomo.

That took us back to Fonte Aretusa. This time, we went into the  aquarium, which had several small tanks with colorful and exotic fish, including piranhas and lionfish.

Another tank had several strange crustaceans common to the Mediterranean.

A rear door of the aquarium led to the Fonte. We walked part way around it, scaring ducks.

Then we walked up the promenade, Foro Italico, that forms the edge of the harbor

We stopped for lunch at Bar della Marina, near Porta Marina, an old city gate.

We ordered a caprese salad. It came with no basil. That’s a full third of a salad made of fresh tomato, mozzarella, and basil.

I asked for basil and was told they had run out.

I tried to make a joke: “How does an Italian restaurant run out of basil? That’s bizarre.”

I regretted it immediately. Nobody got the joke. I was the ugly American.

They wound up giving us a free dessert.

We walked up Via Collegio, named for the College of Jesuits Church at the top of the hill, and then made for the Piazza Duomo again. 

It’s a very bright, very lovely place. Once you have found the lizard, you can’t miss it. As often happens when it gets comfortable being somewhere else, I felt that I belonged here.

I could manage. Hell, I ordered dinner last night almost entirely in Italian.

This was our last night in Syracuse, and I’m already missing it.

We went back to O’scina for dinner because the menu is very good and the lady who runs it is a spectacular host.

This time we had linguine with prawns and mussels. The mussels came in the shell, as I expected, but so did the prawns, which I wasn’t ready for.

A lot of messy work to get at the meat. Especially tricky to keep the juice off my vest. I may have been successful, though.

Second course was sausage with potatoes and rosemary.  A little hot for Joanna, so we ordered extra bread.

I had wine by the glass, a couple of different Syrahs and a Nero d’Avola. The Nero was good, as always, but the Syrahs were more interesting. One, a Salier de la Tour, had a slight edge and a definite fruitiness. The Nero was from the same company.

I lost track of the other Syrah’s name. Sorry about that. It was very interesting, a very strong flavor of minerals and earth.

The lady topped off my glass with something, not sure what, but it was delicious.

I managed to find my way home. Well, to be more accurate, I managed to follow Joanna home.

Friday was check-out day for us at Alla Giudecca. I had originally booked us for five nights, expecting that we’d be ready to move out of the small town by Tuesday. Then we extended the stay to Friday. 

We still weren’t ready to leave, but we are running out of time. We will stay in Reggio for a couple of days to break up the long trip back to Naples.

You can go from Syracuse to Naples on one ticket, but it takes 12 or 13 hours. That’s a long ride.

After reading the warnings in Rick Steves’s travel books, we didn’t want to spend too many days in Naples. Just enough to see the Archeological Museum.

I was about to wash my face before breakfast when I turned the spigot and all that came out was a gurgle from somewhere deep in the pipe. It was deja vu all over again, except that the lights were still on.

I set out on a search for information

It didn’t take long to identify the cause. A room had flooded on the floor below us. Along with the lobby on that floor, the stairs below and the open courtyard on the ground floor.

Somebody had already gotten much of the water with a mop. Others were working on the plumbing.

None of the people working on the problem spoke much English. I couldn’t speak enough Italian to ask how long before the water would be back.

If it was going take several hours, then maybe we should leave for Reggio right away and take a shower at the hotel there.

By the time I got back to the room, though, the water was running.

My first impulse was to take a shower before the water went off again. Joanna calmed me down. We went down to breakfast instead.

We checked out with time to spare. We had our tickets at the station before 11.

We killed some time and then started down the stairs to the underpass. 

Three tracks at Syracuse station are accessible without stairs. So our train was scheduled for the fourth track.

Actually, it’s because tracks 4 and 5 are the only through tracks, and our train was coming from the south. 

I took my bags as far as the first landing and came back to help Joanna. As I was coming up the stairs, a lady showed up and took Joanna’s bag for her.

After she got Joanna up the next staircase, she came back to help me. But she had done more than enough already, and although I was taking it one step at a time, I was going to make it.

She had a strange accent, which turned out to be from Canada. She was traveling with a group of friends who had rented an apartment in a town whose name I didn’t catch, but is not far from Reggio. 

They had come down to Syracuse for a couple of days and were on their way to Taormina. Same train as ours.

There were no last-minute track changes. The train pulled in almost a half-hour early.

That was lucky because I had forgotten to have the tickets stamped with the day’s date. They’re not valid until you do that. There was plenty of time to go back to Platform 1 and validate them.

It’s a bright, but hazy day. We pass through olive and citrus groves, fields with cows, an occasional tunnel. 

The Mediterranean is on our right hand and Mt. Etna on the left. 

I can’t see where the sea ends and the sky starts. I can’t see the top of the volcano. Grapes are growing up there to make great wine.

It’s easier to find a marine terminal than a rail station.

We were able to walk from Messina Central Station to the ferry terminal, because we could see the boats when we came out. It was a walk of a few minutes, because we were encumbered with baggage.

Last time we did this in the opposite direction and had to hire a cab for 10 euros.

The ferry brought us to Reggio around 5. The Hotel Continental is maybe 100 yards from the gate of the ferry terminal.

We went out for dinner later to a neighborhood place that was recommended to us on our first stay here three weeks ago. It’s called Villegiante. 

We had spaghetti blackened with ink and bits of meat somewhat like squid, but more tender. The menu said “cozze,” which Wikipedia tells me is a Mediterranean mussel, but I think it may have been cuttlefish.

For our second course, we had involtini de pesce spada. In the States, I have learned, that would be braciole of swordfish.

Thin strips of fish were wrapped around a filling, which may have contained one or more cheeses, bread crumbs, and maybe more swordfish.

We hadn’t tried anything like either dish before. Even now, I’m not sure what they are. And both dishes were damned good.

I took a flyer on the house wine and was reminded you can’t win all the time. It was billed as a red, but was a thin pink. It didn’t have much character or flavor, but it was wine. And well worth the 3 euros I paid for a half liter.

What’s going on? I never met a bottle of wine that I didn’t like, and here I am bitching about a bargain. The wine of this country must be spoiling me. 

Right now, I’m making up for the cheap stuff with a bottle that I picked up at the hotel bar downstairs. It’s made from Aglianico grapes grown north of here in Campania, the province where Naples is.

It’s a 2011 vintage from Avellino labeled Gioviano Irpinia and has an almost astringent edge. I wonder: Would it interfere with the flavor of food? Probably not. But who knows?

It was 14 euros for the bottle and at 15 1/2 percent is one of the strongest wines I’ve ever had. It’s very good.

OK, it’s getting hazy again. 

Love to everybody. And please don’t take water for granted.

Harry