Where's Blair?

I’m halfway through my travels and it’s been a minute since my last post! I am having less time for writing and reflection that I had thought. I’ve had friends and family join me along the way and each night when I get back to wherever I’m sleeping, I’m exhausted. That is a good feeling too. But now, I have a backlog of places to tell you about – so I’d better get into it!

After my time in Greece, I took a short flight to Catania. I’ve already written about my rental car fiasco, so suffice to say I picked up a cute little black Peugeot and instantly assigned it Dover’s personality. That tracked well, it turned out. Like Dover, it was bossy; it would make angry bubble noises at me if I went over the speed limit. And like Dover chasing a squirrel on walk, it would jerk me back into my lane if I drifted, even if I was swerving to dodge Italian drivers.

Anyway, the little buggy did well and it wasn’t long before I arrived in Taormina. When planning this trip I had been on the fence about whether to visit this place, despite it’s reputation as the most beautiful town in Sicily. Why? Because it was the setting for season two of The White Lotus and I assumed that would bring with it throngs of a certain type of tourist whom I would rather avoid.

All things turned out to be true. Taormina was unfortunately crowded during the day when cruise ships docked in Catania and carted up thousands of slow walkers decked out in lemon pattern ponchos. The central street, Corso Umberto, alternates between Greek ruins, heavy Norman churches, Baroque towers, and ornate flower potted balconies, but if you take time to look up, you’ll probably fall under the stampede. I tried to stay off the main drag but all the side alleys are a maze that either bring you back or deadend at a cliff.

And, yes, Taormina did contain some White Lotus larpers. Most notably what appeared to be a bachelorette party consisting of a dozen twenty-something blond girls all parading around with matching light blue umbrellas (presumably provided by the White Lotus hotel, San Domenico Palace) and wearing the exact same khaki pea coat (presumably not provided by the hotel, just groupthink). Mind you this hotel has a price tag of at least $2k per night. That bride has some nerve. I also learned that the Nazis liked that hotel too; they made it their officers’ headquarters during the occupation of Sicily.

But despite all that, Taormina was romantic, mysterious, and, yes, strikingly beautiful. The crown jewel is the Roman theater, notable both for the level of preservation – the columns of the three story stage are in tact – but even more so for the view of the cliffs, sea, and Mount Etna (if you’re lucky, on a clear day) beyond.

I stayed a little ways back off the main street, near the entrance to the old city at Porto Catania in a belle epoch villa converted to a bed and breakfast, Villa Gaia. Taormina hangs perilously off a high cliff over the sea. Down many, many stairs, I found the beach, covered in big round smooth stones that crackle and click when the waves wash out. I explored Isola Bella, a sometimes ithsmus, sometimes island trapped between tidal inlets. The isola was long ago converted into a Gaudi-esque playground by a British noble, tropical gardens peaking through yellow tiled grottos.

Mount Etna finally showed itself on my second morning and I was ready to – hopefully – leave the crowds behind. The drive up the volcano provided my first taste of fall, a yellow leaved patch of trees giving way to a hardened black lava field. Then, much to my dismay, a massive parking lot packed with tour buses. The clouds were starting to roll in, obscuring the peak, so I decided to make my visit quick, opting for what looked like a short hike near the alpine station at the Craters of the Moon. The trek was actually pretty intense and windy so I wrapped things up quickly to get down before the fog blotted out the roads.

I drove through the steep greens of the Madonie Mountains, emerged on the coast, and was greeted by my new foe: the ZTL – Zona Traffica Limitada. Like many places in Europe, Sicily has ancient city centers that are too narrow, crowded, and cute for traffic; only the local cars are allowed in. I had read about this and thought I was prepared. Google maps, however, apparently has no idea, so I found myself in a medieval dead end stuck between a scooter, the corner of house, and a stairway down, needing to Austin Powers/ Mr. Bean, twelve-point turn my way out.

Whatever. I parked the Dover-mobile outside the ZTL, dragged my suitcase over cobblestones and up a narrow, narrow staircase, to be rewarded with a private belfry, just in time for sunset.

Wedged between the sea and a massive, steep rock outcropping, Cefalu is small, charming, and full of excellent food. It’s a challenging hike up to the top of La Rocca, the cliff, which was great because without soccer three times a week, I definitely needed the workout. Up top, a Norman fortress and Hellenistic temples, and phenomenal 360 degree views.

I spent two nights in Cefalu then made my way along the coast towards Alcamo Marina. Along the way, I stopped in Monreale, in the mountains above Palermo, to check out the Byzantine mosaics in the duomo. Now, I’ve seen plenty of cathedrals but I’m glad I went out of my way for this – the entire interior is covered in gold. It was genuinely dazzling.

Alcamo Marina is tiny beach town that honestly has nothing going on this time of year, not even a grocery store, except the reason I was there: an Airbnb I found several years ago and planned this journey around, a place lovingly dubbed the Tuna Tower. Here, I planned to haul up with nothing but some books, my journal, and the view of the sea, like a captive in a fairy tale.

The complex is an old tuna fish processing plant. There’s a main residence, a palazzo-like structure right on the beach with blue trim and ornate, arching details. Then a low, industrial building with no roof. I think it was the courtyard where they processed the fish. Part of it has been converted into a house with a patio on the beach made attractive by light blue trim, pergola, and many pots of plants. The vegetation from the garden stretches throughout the complex, rose bushes and flowered vines here and there.

My room was in the cubic tower on the very top, up three flights of stairs. Massive windows open on the front and back. The wind was constantly howling and the sea echoing loudy in the domed ceiling. I slept with the front window open and woke up many times during the night to always louder waves and the bedroom door rattling in the wind. I kept it open both nights. It was perfect.