Land of Crazy Drivers

Taormina was on our itinerary, and we took off, with a route in hand. The problem begins with getting out of here, where we are staying. It is not unusual to see scrapes on cars in Sicily, I’ve noted. Lots of cars have those horizontal scratches that tell you they’ve gotten too close to something. This is new—having remarked so often on other places in this country where cars are driven like mad, but so seldom appear to have accidents.

Lew’s skill here is outstanding. The auto-travel here has me cowering in the back seat with my focus on the IPad so that I can’t pay attention to the chaos outside. We’ve been in the middle of the road, with cars coming at us on both sides; we’ve been honked at continuously for not driving into a fray; most no-parking signs are dismissed out of hand, as there are lots of vehicles below them; and cars come straight at you from all directions. As streets are narrow, without sidewalks, vehicles presume you are going to get your own darn self out of the way, and race down the streets without slowing. We also see cars parked headfirst and sideways, that is, at a 90 degree angle in a space, sticking out the back half into traffic. Driver gone. Getting out of Acireale, where we are staying, is the first challenge, and from here, it takes off.

So, some notes from the road. We drove along the coast, enjoying the small towns and their side roads, stopping at this or that pretty plaza overlooking the water. You know that most of us seek God with greater fervor when we are in distress, or terribly frightened. This time, I stepped onto the rocks, water below, sun shining, spread out my arms, and was able to invite the universe in, welcoming all that is.

We noticed that most of the towns are fixer-uppers, with trash piled in heaps alongside the road. I presume by the lack of bins that there isn’t much recycle. Oh, yes, we got the coast guard to come and warn us about dangerous conditions at the waterfront — probably just checking out stranger-danger. Beautiful country, lemons and olives growing in tended fields, interspersed with abandoned property and neglected piles of garbage. Then we got to Taormina.

It is cleaned up mostly, and very touristy but so beautiful it steals your breath. Perched at the top of a road that bends around like a small colon, with cars parked on the sides, btw, the top of this mountain houses an old town now filled with shops, hotels and restaurants, and looks a bit like a 50% off sale-shopping at Christmastime. Thick with people, at each end is an eye-popping view of a broad circular bay, with a couple of islands below, azure and a darker navy swirling together. There is a school that let out it’s students in a stream of energy right in the middle of town, so we know that citizen-residents live there too. It was our invasion that felt surreal, not them.

Our local host sent us to her recommended pizzeria for dinner- a take-away. First time we’ve ever seen such a place in Italy. We walked over to the little store, about the size of my bathroom, in front of yet another church, lit up with a neon sign. They were friendly, and wanted to know from where we came. When we told them, they immediately wanted to talk politics. While our pizzas cooked, we chatted with them, finding common ground, and when we left, I was given kisses on both cheeks, and a great loud arriverdverci chorus.I may have to go back, just for the love.

Pizza-good. Bill – I think that even middle-earth would approve.

WiFi is low — pictures later, or on FB