Tag: birra Messina

I had always planned to use my last full day in Palermo to visit the famous golden cathedral at Monreale. It’s on a steep hill outside Palermo but the guides advised the two-bus strategy for adventure and price. So I headed off for Central Station to catch the 109 to Piazza Indipendenza which Google maps showed as a 30 minute walk along a major thoroughfare. So I bought my ticket from the conveniently marked ‘Ticket Point’ for the princely sum of one euro 40 each way and waited for a 109. It came in about ten minutes and was immediately quite crowded – Sicilians have strong elbows – but I got a seat and observing the route through not the nicest area, I was glad I decided not to walk.

Then it was onto the 389 whIch just shuttles between the square and Monreale. It rattles along with occasional pickups so we end up with standing room only. It drops us off at a roundabout, leaving a steepish ascent up a road with great views over Palermo until finally one makes it to the premium attraction.

Palermo from the top of Monreale, the exterior of the apse and the west front.

I play my bus pass and driving licence to get a reduction and to my amazement they waved me through. I later discovered that the cathedral is free but other attractions cost. It is a truly amazing building with so much gold in the mosaics, frescos and service and ceremonial items. Built for William II , the Good, it’s a majestic church attached to a Dominican abbey. I loved the Arabic patterns in the mosaic wall panels, remembering Córdoba and Granada where Muslim and Christian faiths coalesced, the sublime vaulted ceiling and would, I’m sure have loved the huge depiction of Christ behind the main altar. Sadly I got a printed cloth showing what we might have seen were not in the midst of refurbishments.

I’ll update my pics eventually but you’ll prolly get better from here including what I couldn’t see.

The museum was absolutely packed with gold and silver chalices, crosses and wonderfully woven vestments but after a while I began to glaze so I headed for the elegant monastery cloister. No entry without a ticket and despite my entreaties the young attendant would not let me pass. I glimpsed it from a higher level and it did look like a bit of a miss.

Golded out, I wandered about the town centre which is 100% tourist dedicated. What would these businesses do if, as often requested, we all stayed home? Souvenir shops with ceramics, leather and paintings – maybe once upon a time – but these days I steer clear. But I found an unassuming bakery that would survive any tourist fall off given the number of badly parked cars and Vespas coming to collect their daily bread. The baker apologised for keeping me waiting while he took a batch of panini out of an oven. He then made me one with anchovies and tomatoes which was complemented by a Messina beer which I read from its label has salt crystals from Trapani added to give it extra bite. Salty anchovies with salty beer, what could be better. The 389 goes every half hour so I walked back down the hill, so much easier! and soon the bus arrived and took about 40 minutes to get to Indipendenza and then another fifteen back to the station. I decided to spend a little time sorting my self out and packing for my early morning Sunday departure. Well prepared I went for dinner back in La Kalsa and found a rare table on a busy Saturday night at Quattro Mani where I had more aubergine as a starter and then black sesame crusted seared albacore tuna which was superb and washed down nicely with and Etna Cotanera grape. A fine farewell to four days in Palermo.

On the road

On checking out of the hotel, I noticed for the first time that it had a small bar and a pretty garden which I would have been entitled to use as an apartment dweller. Were I ever to go back I’d happily stay there again as it’s in a great location and they were very helpful. So it’s to Central Station once more for my six euro trip to the airport to be picked up by a car rental shuttle. On arrival I made a series of notes to myself 1: If it looks good value (ie cheap) it’s probably for a reason; 2: don’t assume – no not all rental cars have SatNavs fitted; 3: not all cars start up just because you get and push a button, some need keys inserting and turning; 4: try to adjust to manual transmission – there’s a thing called a clutch – and instrument layout to avoid the windscreen wipers going when you want to turn. Having said all that the VW UP! Has got me from Palermo to Agrigento and now at the time of writing to Siracusa, it hasn’t been all bad thanks to Google maps and Bluetooth.

My destination for the day was Agrigento but on the way both guidebook and Gwyn and Yvonne said “Go to Gibellina”. So I did. It’s a very, very sad story. In 1968 the village was destroyed in an earthquake and rather than rebuild the villagers were relocated to Gibellina Nuova 18 km away.

Alberto’s installation, the Creti di Burri covered the village’s ruins in one metre high concrete blocks within which you can walk the meandering streets, climb the hill and feel a real sense of a lost community. As someone who loves the technical, in the close ups you can see the sinuous outlines of the bags that held the concrete in place. In others there’s a pink glow as if the terracotta tiles from the destroyed houses had leached their tears into the concrete. Beautiful, moving, a true work of art – and huge!

By contrast the new town, conceived by notable architects as a Utopian living place, turned out to be a soulless disaster. Despite claims as the art of living, there are many public works but no cafes, a closed supermarket and a public square that looks less than inviting. And there’s a grotesque abandoned multi-use space that dominates this sad spot. Oh progress, where art thou? Note to Labour – if you do build new towns, don’t make them like this!

Leaving the new Gibellina behind I headed for my BnB in Agrigento. The road was pleasant with frequent glimpses of the coast before the nightmare of finding the place I was to rest my head. The instructions were great if you knew the town but were confusing in that Via Atenea didn’t have a name plaque adjacent to the adjoining street where I’d been told to park. Locals were helpful and I discovered I’d have a lengthy trek with suitcase to get there. While deliberating going round the block to use the closer car park, I was waved down by someone older than me to give him a lift to the cathedral. He was carrying a silver plaque and a lanyard so I guessed he mattered. I didn’t say, but thought “I despise Christians and other religions for all the trouble they’ve caused” and meekly accepted his blessing when I dropped him off.