Last days of holidays are often a bit of a problem. You have to check in for a flight by a certain time but what do you do with the time in between? In my case it’s a three hour drive direct to the airport at Palermo and I need to drop off the car around two o’clock to make the two hour check-in slot. Breakfasted and out before nine, what’s to do? I have a nerdy rush of completism. I’ve been in/by the Mediterranean Sea at Agrigento and Modica Marina and the Ionian Sea at Siracusa and Taormina but Sicily is a triangle and the long top side has the Tyrrhenian Sea. There’s a town called Cefalu that sounds interesting and that’s an hour from Palermo so I’d have the advantage of puting most of the drive in first thus reducing the get-to-the-airport-on-time panic factor. On the triangle thing, I’d been ignorant of why I keep seeing three-legged figures everywhere like the one below on airport floor tiles. So I looked it up and it’s the Trinacria the symbol of Sicily first adopted in 1282 which became an official part of the Sicilian flag in 1943. The woman is Medusa with her snakey hair, wheat ears for fertility and the three legs represent Sicily’s three capes at the points of the triangle – isn’t the internet useful sometimes.
TrinacriaA’Storia BnB
So I leave my pleasant home for four days and set off for Cefalu. The first part of the journey is a repeat of yesterday as far at Catania but then veers off through the centre of the island on the A19. The A suggests autostrada or motorway and bits of it are but I reckon 30% of my journey was in slow single file traffic through mostly invisible roadworks – the odd digger made you think some work might be going on now and then. The landscape is generally brown and pretty dull until I get to Enna where on entering the Madonie mountain chain where the massive Pizzo Carbonara (o not a duly noted) is the second highest peak after Etna. I was surprised to see a ski lift sign by the roadside but there’s a resort here, Piano Battaglia, and a further two on Etna. Then it’s a long descent towards Palermo before a side road heads off to Cefalu. I’m glad I made the detour. It’s a very pretty town in a splendid bay and therefore totally touristy – but that’s no bad thing. It reminded me a bit of the Concha beach in San Sebastian (Donostia for any Basque readers). A long promenade, colourful beach umbrellas, the fight for a stretch of the strand, warm sea and bright sun – all the ingrdients for a fun holiday. So I headed to the ‘second most important cathedral after Monreale’. It’s, of course, up a flight of steps and built in Norman style between 1131 and 1240. Like Monreale it has a lot of gold and the altar piece is a massive and incredibly detailed mosaic of Christo Pancreator. And the museum nearby has a portrait by Antonello da Messina (of Annunciata fame) of a smiling boy. He was good.
A quick coffee and then off to the car hire return place, confirm no damage to report and take the shuttle bus into the airport. As this was my first journey since the operation, I’d been a bit worried about my hip through scanners but in both instances I just pointed to it and said either “metal hip replacement” at Stansted or point at hip and “metallico” at Palermo. In both instances I had a further wand wafted over me before being allowed to proceed. I did have a photo on my phone and my hospital discharge papers just in case but they weren’t required. The flight was delayed by 30 minutes but was happily uneventful. It was clearly not a busy time but still took 30 minutes to slalom our way through passport control. My suitcase had at least arrived by then so I retrieved it, I got the Stansted shuttle bus to the long stay car park, took a few moments to realise I didn’t have to change gear any more and arrived home having had a thoroughly enjoyable holiday in Sicily.
I had a problem with uploading photos from my camera so there area few gapsnow filled in on my return to London and a full laptop.
Oh dear, I wake up and the sky is blue, the sun is shining and I’m still in Sicily. Today’s plan is to visit the Botanic Gardens I can see from the apartment, do a museum recommended by my friend Gwyn, check out the walk to Teatro Massimo and get back home relatively early to shower and frock up for the opera.
The day started well as the garden opens at nine and has a cafe where juice (bottled not freshly squeezed like yesterday’s – trading standards might need to investigate). However with that and a good coffee hit I was ready to meander. And it’s that sort of garden with nicely laid out routes of varying lengths and also the capacity for random twiling (copyright S Todd RIP but we still twile). And the labelling is very clear, often in Italian and English so you know what you are looking at.
One of my first encounters made me think of friends Gwyn and Yvonne who had highly recommended Sicily after a visit they made a few years ago. They have an 80-year-old tortoise in their garden so I immediately felt welcomed to the Giardino Botanico. Now I’m not sure whether this creature was a tortoise, a turtle or a terrapin but it gave me a friendly nod.
The Botanic Garden was divided up into several areas and had displays of various plantings – bamboo reminding me of Bangladesh, palms, cactus including a cactus nursery and again making me feel at home an experimental coffee growing area. There were some pleasant glasshouses – but what can compare with Kew – and is was good to see a number of school groups making the garden tour.
The coffee trial plantation to see if they can grow coffee here. Interesting development and a reflexion on climate change perhaps like red wine in Kent.
My next planned visit was to a half-completed church, Lo Spasimo, which I suspect, as the world’s expert on follies, my friend Gwyn was claiming as one. It was abandoned in 1475 when stone was more urgently required for fortifications against the threat from the Turks. Sadly it was closed so I’ll take Gwyn’s word for its intrinsic value. Disappointment calls for coffee which was provided bay a barely-open bar in via Spasimo. Then it’s on the short walk to the Palazzo Abatellis which houses the Galleria Regionale di Sicilia.
This gallery contains two absolute must-see items and a lot more of significant interest. Once again it’s a magnificent 15th century palazzo and shortly after entering you are struck by masterpiece one. The Triumph of Death is remarkable in so many ways. It’s a fresco from elsewhere that was carefully removed and repositioned here. It’s from the fifteenth century by an unknown artist. You can see it here at ground level and then again from above when you go upstairs. It reflects on the devastation of the Bubonic plague in Europe. Can’t wait for the Covid Guernika-style fresco. Death is an armed skeleton riding a skeletal horse which has great yellow teeth. There are so many brilliant mini-stories going on all over the wall that it’s hard to drag yourself away but something perhaps even more special awaits.
It was also interesting as always to see a conservation team at work on one of the collection’s pieces – mahl sticks, minute brushes and multicoloured palettes. Oh we do like seeing other people work!
The gallery has a very large number of fairly gloomy religious woks – well we are in very Catholic Spain – but one of them is in joyous calm counterpoint to all these. It’s known as the Mona Lisa of Sicily and is called Annunciata and was painted by Antonello da Messina in around 1475, so predating Leonardo. It gets very special treatment in a mobile display unit in the middle of a room. She’s in great demand so you have to be very patient and wait your turn to go and monopolise the space. It’s worth the wait. It is thrilling in it’s simplicity. Mary looks off camera presumably listening to angel Gabriel telling her she’s pregnant. Her raised right hand might just be saying “No way!” The restrained colour palette, the beauty of her features and the arresting composition make this a picture I covet. They did give me a free postcard so maybe I’ll frame that.
Among the other delights are a very rude-girl looking Maddalena and a room full of paintings claiming the influence of Caravaggio. But nothing can surpass the galleries two nailed-on star exhibits. From here I decide to walk to the Teatro Massimo and then back to the apartment to check my departure time for the opera tonight.
I do walk it in stages but get waylaid by the need for a beer – it’s now after two for goodness sake. Opposite the cafe on via Maqueda is the Palazzo San’Elia another gorgeous edifice advertising an exhibition called Palermo Liberty The Golden Age. Oh if only Dee was here, she’d have loved it, We shared a love of Deco and Art Nouveau and the poster was very enticing.
It started with an immersive video room in which the walls displayed changing decorative motifs from the tiles, logos and fabrics of the period. It reminded me of the Kusama mirror rooms. The rest of the exhibit depicted life and taste of the Period and brought back vision of Casa Battlo and the furniture rooms on Montjuic in nBarcelona. There was the restoration of a famous bakery’s facade, great graphics, photographs, furniture and frocks. I really might have enjoyed living then – if I’d been among the better off.
With all this enjoyment I find I’ve basically left it too late for lunch as many kitchens close at three so I end up with a tuna panino and beer at a street food stall near the station and home. I then repair to the apartment shower and frock up ready for the opera. I discover that my trusty Birkenstock flip-flop style sandals have caused a bloody blister on the top of my middle toe on my left foot – have my toes got fat during my periods of inactivity. Well it’s socks and proper shoes for the opera and I have other options. This and my peregrinations have convinced me that the sensible option is not a 25-30 minute walk in a suit in 26 degrees and that a 10 euro taxi ride is the sensible option.
I arrive in good time and can explore the building a bit before finding my seat in a loggia box which already has one young woman installed. We say hello and admit our mutual lack of each other’s language. Later two other ladies arrive but the sixth chair is left unoccupied so we all have space and a good view. In-performance phone abuse is as rife in Palermo as in London and I feel like throwing darts at people below me. They’ve paid twice what I have to sit in the stalls. Why are they here?
It’s a somewhat strange ‘concept’ production which starts as a rehearsal with a tee-shirted conductor playing piano on stage then joining colleagues in the pit via the audience. Singers also enter via the stalls and sing first parts from scores on music stands. It then segues into a full production midway through Act 1. There’s the now familiar mix of modern and ‘period’ dress but there’s a big shout out to the naked pink-winged Cupid who made many appearances throughout. I have to question why the similarly naked female in Act 3 was allowed knickers! They were small but covered her pubes. Musically it was excellent with good orchestral colours and contrasts.
The singers especially Brangene (Irene Roberts) were excellent but at the end I was astonished at how quickly the pit cleared. I know musos like a drink – but all overboard! Shame on me for such evil thoughts. After the principals’ curtain calls the back curtain rose to show all the orchestra member within their instruments where portable. Something I had never seen before – a nice touch.
I feared for my stomach as most places close their kitchens at 11 and we were after that by the time I’d got out. However a place on via Maqueda was still serving and I had an aubergine, celery and tomato and some mistranslated sardine meatballs – surely fish balls! However they were very tasty, went well with a crisp half-bottle of local white and I chickened out on the walk back and took a cab. Well after midnight and buzzing with the music and the occasion, I slept very badly – not good preparation for my last day in Palermo – a planned trip to Monreale.
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