Going for Baroque

 

This morning we visited the pretty little city of Noto, walking through a beautiful arched gateway. What makes Noto so special? Its reincarnation as a Baroque city after a devastating earthquake in 1693. The earthquake destroyed the town, but provided architects with a clean slate, and its streets are lined with cream colored limestone structures gleaming in the sunlight.

Then, this afternoon, we headed for downtown Catania, five miles from the airport we’re departing from early tomorrow. Catania was also a victim of the 1693 earthquake, and like Noto, its rebuilding consisted of mainly the Baroque style. Catania is larger and grittier than Noto but has plenty of stately Baroque  buildings.

When we take photos, Mike tends to be to be the Big Picture guy. Panoramic views, magnificent cathedrals, expansive images of long streets are his specialty.

I, on the other hand, like to zoom in on little details. The face of a cherub on an altar rail. An intricate iron gate. A masque carved into stone. And my favorite… a pretty lamppost, a perfect complement to the name of my blog. In both Noto and Catania, there is an abundance of pretty details, big and small, to satisfy my appetite for curlicues and carvings.

Along the way, I’ve learned to look up. Sometimes a charming balcony might be just above a ho-hum souvenir shop. A graffitied wall might lie under an intricate carving of an angel or lacy  designs framing a window.

And lampposts! They stand quietly, bathing old streets with light, their warm glow emanating from iron works of art. As we travel, I’ve collected dozens of lampposts, some elegant, some delicate, some charming.

So, I keep looking  close and looking up, absorbing all that I can. Travel, it’s my happy place.

 

Wedding Bells in Siracusa

Okay, I admit it! I’m bordering on history overload. On our tour today, we saw ruins of a Greek Theater, a Roman amphitheater, and the Duomo, the Cathedral of Siracusa. It was at the Duomo where my attention turned away from the narrative of our guide. Yes, very interesting…but…

a WEDDING!

As we stood to one side learning about the Doric columns, Siracusan wedding guests in their finest garb drifted in. All around us was an elegant Italian fashion show.

I faked listening to the stuff about the Roman arches, but my eyes strayed to the mother of the groom wearing a stunning shantung coat over her simple sheath. The coat, in a pale taupe, featured intricate cutouts and subtle embroidery on the back. Yes, it was too hot for a coat, but this ensemble was lovely.

Instead of admiring the duomo ceiling, my eyes darted to a young woman in pale gray stilettos who wore a black satin dress with a full skirt edged with a vibrant floral pattern of parrot green, bright red and yellow. A trim bolero modestly covered her spaghetti straps for the  church ceremony. Gorgeous!

While I nodded with feigned interest at the arches our guide described, my eyes wandered to gather in the details of a glamorous royal blue gown on one guest, a brilliant pink floral on another. Handsome young men in impeccably tailored navy blue suits and crisp white shirts stood around with serious looks on their faces, communicating the importance o the upcoming event.

Our guide finished talking, and we were free to gawk. Then, the bride! A wisp of a girl on her father’s arm entered the church. Her dress was ethereal, a slip style with a gossamer veil that flowed behind her, glowing in the sunbeams that streamed through the duomo door.  Like so many dads I know, her father stared stalwartly forward, his jaw clenched in a futile attempt to quell the  tears trickling down his cheeks.

Of course, we couldn’t stay for the ceremony. We slipped out the side door, continuing our tour of the city. But hurray! When our tour ended, we returned to the piazza where the bride and groom posed for photos and wedding guests milled around.

Like paparazzi, we hovered in the background, snapping a few pictures.The historic buildings of Siracusa are beautiful, but the couple strolling arm in arm, the bride’s  filmy train trailing behind her, was the prettiest sight I saw today.

 

Etna: The Restless Giant

Until now, the closest I’d come to a volcano was eating chocolate lava cake. Today, I expanded my volcanic experience when we took a drive to the real deal here in Sicily, Mt. Etna.

Ever since we arrived in Taormina, we’ve seen Mt. Etna steaming just over our shoulder. The locals tell us that this steam makes Etna less dangerous than other volcanos like Vesuvio that lie dormant and blow their tops in violent eruptions. Besides, the Sicilians say, when Etna erupts, the lava doesn’t flow quickly, so people have time to escape. Of course, their homes are destroyed in the process, but oh, well. Over time, there have been numerous eruptions, including a tiny one just a week ago.

We didn’t go to the tippy top (11,000 feet) but drove up about 6,000 feet to the Silverstri Craters, a starting point for tourists. I learned that Etna is made up of many craters,  not just the big one at the peak. The Silvestri crater erupted in 1892, and it’s not far from where a 1983 lava flow destroyed a now-rebuilt restaurant.

Some heartier souls hiked up to a higher point than we did, and some hardcore thrill-seekers rode a cable car to ascend even higher.  We were content to walk around the most accessible crater, dramatic and starkly beautiful. We managed to avoid slipping down the lava rock terrain while we looked down into the bowl. In every direction, we absorbed the views — austere and dramatically beautiful.

 

 

See those people on the ridge behind us? We walked it, too.

But just what is it about jokesters in high places? While we stayed a respectful distance from the edges, a hilarious-to-him guy pretended to slip backwards on the loose pebbles, terrifying his girlfriend. Another knucklehead performed an arms-windmilling pantomime near another steep drop. Yuk-yuk-yuk! I wanted to slap the two of them.

After our walk-about, we headed down the switchbacks and hairpin turns to a lower elevation, happily leaving the driving to our guide Antonio. Turns out, volcanic soil is perfect for vineyards. Our day ended with a wine tasting at the Gambino Cellars where we tossed back some local favorites. Bellisimo!

 

Time in Taormina

Whenever we mentioned to friends who had been here that we were going to Sicily, they all asked, “Are you going to Taormina?” Everyone, it seemed, said this was their favorite spot. We arrived yesterday afternoon, and it took me about five seconds to see why.

On a bluff overlooking the Ionian Sea, Taormina, founded by the Greeks centuries ago and once ruled by the Romans, has long been a vacation spot for wealthy and colorful characters, including Florence Trevelyan, one of the mistresses of Queen Victoria’s son Edward who was kept here, out of sight. The town oozes history… a Greek Theater, for example. Today, it’s a popular spot for cruise ships. In fact, from the balcony of our hotel room I can see two biggies floating around in the inlet below.

The main drag, Corso Umberto, is a pedestrian street lined with enticing patisseries, linen and  ceramic shops, and restaurants… perfect for strolling. The shops are topped with pretty balconies frilled with tropical plants growing out of whimsical flower pots, some with faces, and some in the traditional blue and yellow patterns.

And the views! The higher we climbed, the more jaw-dropping they became.  Vistas of sea, sky and, oh yeah, Mount Etna peek through the archways that seem to be around every corner. At the end of the Corso Umberto is the Piazza IX April, where every visitor poses along the rail for photos. Yup, we did, too!

As pretty as the views are from up above, they’re not too shabby from out on the water, either. This afternoon, we rode a cable car down to the seaside for lunch, then hopped onto a boat skippered by young Sicilian named Luciano. Bouncing along the waves,  we gawked upward at the the town, pointing out to each other spots where we’d stood hours before.

Toss in some pasta and wine at outdoor cafe, some strolling musicians with a singer belting out “The Theme from The Godfather”, and an evening stroll through the botanical gardens overlooking the sea.

Why do all travelers to Sicily mention Taormina? Oooh, now I get it.