Exploring Caltagirone

One of the oldest towns in Sicily, Caltagirone was greatly influenced by
the influx of the Arabs. However, much of its architecture today is
distinctively Baroque. Bridges and balconies, church domes and building
facades still display the town’s ceramic history.

Aside from exploring the town, we also had it in mind to reach the train station below where we would purchase tickets for the following day’s travel. Unencumbered by our packs, it would be much easier to cast about, searching without them. Inquiring as we went, we strolled from one point to another like a game of connect-the-dots, until we found it.

Tickets to Giardini Naxos bought, we decided to take the little bus back up to give our feet a rest. After waiting for 30 minutes, we decided to abandon our post and head up on foot. Of course, the bus passed us as we worked our way back up into the center of town.

Heading down the left on Via Roma, one of the town’s main streets, you will
arrive at the train station at the foot of the hill. Head up towards the right
and you enter the lovely public gardens, Giardino della Villa.

Greeting visitors to Caltagirone’s gorgeous public gardens, Giardino
della Villa, this marble maiden symbolizes Autumn. Her three seasonal
sisters stand close by.

It’s just as well, because you miss so much from the secluded comfort of a vehicle. We happened upon a beautiful park, graced by beautiful statues representing each of the four seasons. Pulled inside by the peaceful verdant paths, we sauntered to the edge of the park, overlooking an ornate gazebo.

A regal lion sits at the foot of the steps leading into the tranquil public gardens,
Giardino della Villa. The gardens are also the site of the Museo della Ceramica,
the ceramics museum, which we unfortunately did not visit.

Steppin’ Out

Tiled balustrades enclose the balcony of the 18th century Palazza Ventimiglia,
house of majolica artist, Benedetto Ventimiglia.

Earlier we had purchased a ceramic trinket in one of the shops lining La Scala, the fanciful steps of Santa Maria del Monte. We had forgotten to pick up a business card telling the name of the artist, so back up I scampered almost to the very top while Gino waited at the bottom.

Breathlessly, I stepped in and explained my mission. The proprietor was most happy to oblige and asked that I wait just a minute while he dashed off to fetch a stash of cards. As he leaped up the last few steps and disappeared, I realized I was alone in his shop.

We are always amazed at how Europeans often leave their shops wide open while they go for a coffee or do a quick errand. More than once during our travels after stepping into a shop to poke around, we would return to the street, never having seen a soul. Nothing ever seems to be bothered, which I can’t imagine happening here.

This particular shop owner soon reappeared, carrying a stack of cards for me to distribute to “friends in California.” I smiled and thanked him, assured him I would, and strode back down to Gino .

Majolica gargoyles watch over Via Roma below.
Even the light poles are clad in ceramics.

The school of Maria Ausiliatrice looks out over a tiny shrub-filled
square. Distant parts of Caltagirone gleam in the distance.

It was still too early for dinner, so we claimed a small table at a busy outdoor bar situated on a wooden terrace and ordered liquid appetizers: Campari and soda for me, a frothy beer for Gino. I explained to the young waitress that I was trying to practice Italian and she told me she was trying to practice English! We agreed to speak to each other in both languages!

All throughout Sicily I found that if I initiated a conversation in Italian, the Sicilians never switched to English, even if they could speak it perfectly. I found this very respectful. This is less common on the mainland where Italians, after cringing at the tourist’s mangled words, will often switch the conversation to English. I don’t believe this is meant to insult; undoubtedly they are merely trying to save one from embarrassment. One must always try to maintain una bella figura.

Time-mottled steps lead up to the entrance of the Museo Regionale della Ceramica, Caltagirone’s ceramic museum. Called the Teatrino, this fancifully decorated building was designed in 1792 by the architect Natale Bonaiuto.

Finally it was an acceptable time for dinner. Taking our time to decide upon a restaurant for the evening, we slipped into a few different places. One seemed too fancy; we didn’t have the clothes nor the inclination. Our attempt at pizza for lunch reminded us of that same restaurant at the foot of La Scala, not surprisingly also called La Scala.

Dinner at La Scala. We were glad we decided against pizza.

The menu looked great and indeed, it turned out to be delicious (even though we ended up not ordering pizza!). Before we left, the waiter led us through the restaurant, pointing out the stream of spring water that still flows inside the establishment. During the 18th century, this spring served as its running water.

Back in our room, we sank into bed and drifted off.

The slender bell tower and tile-covered dome of Caltagirone’s Duomo. The original church dated from Norman times; this, however, is a modern reconstruction.

The early peach-colored morning found us hiking down the hill away from the town center. We could have caught the earliest bus down to the train station, but we didn’t want to miss our prepaid train in case it was late. Since we knew exactly where to go (having scoped it out the day before), and the way was all downhill, we hoofed it on foot, as we often do.

Since we do mostly rely on our own feet to carry us through the streets of the towns we visit, it was another reason why we didn’t think twice at that notoriously expensive taxi ride from Agrigento. We figured were due one big splurge!

In short order we landed at the train station. Resting inside the small waiting room until the train chugged in, we noticed someone had scratched a word on the wall: “ROCCO.” We took it as a good omen — Rocco is the name of my little dog. Minutes later we were leaning back into the comfortable seats of the train, watching the scenery flash by as we glided our way to Giardini Naxos.

September 8 – Giardini Naxos

First admiring the elegant Liberty style decor of the Taormina-Giardini Naxos train station, we emerged into the summery air to get our bearings. A mountain towered over us from across the road; no sign of the town appeared either right or left. The building housing the Tourist Information office was closed, so we had no map or even a point of reference. Other travelers had already been picked up in cars or zoomed off in waiting taxis. Not even knowing in which direction to strike out, we stood hopefully by a taxi sign. We did not have to wait long before one pulled up and we headed off to the left, the sea at our side.

Probably the only cranky person we met in all of Sicily, our surly driver explained that a religious festa was in full swing: La Festa della Madonna Immacolata. Traffic was at a crawl. The festa included a procession across town (which we didn’t see since the roads were closed off) and fireworks at night (which we did see much later). Since traffic was being diverted, it seemed to take forever to reach our hotel.

Even the alleyway entry of Villa Mora is worthy of
a photograph. This Goddess greeted us daily.

Grumbling and complaining the whole way, our driver finally pulled in front of Hotel Villa Mora and demanded a price that seemed a little steep for the amount of ground we had covered. Just happy to finally have arrived, we handed it over and ducked into the narrow alley to the front door.

Villa Mora’s antique filled lobby with the reception counter on the left.

This delightful B&B is owned by German Anna and her Italian husband, Nando. The lobby was filled with fabulous Sicilian antiques. It was difficult to concentrate on signing in — we would much rather have been focusing on all these lovely pieces set artfully throughout the place.

Gino tests the sponginess of our bed at Hotel Villa Mora.

We were not disappointed at our equally charming room. Tastefully decorated with touches of antiques, the room featured French doors which opened onto a sweet little balcony overlooking the sea just beyond the adjacent Piazza Kalkis.

Giardini Naxos is a welcoming little beach resort following the curve of the bay. The “Giardini” part of its name came from gardens of citrus orchards once widely cultivated in the surrounding area. Its point to the south, Capo Schiso’, was formed by an ancient lava flow tossed down by Etna. Founded in 735 B.C., this town was the very first Greek colony in all of Sicily.

Ancient Greek mariners beached their ships on the beckoning sands rather than anchoring them in the surf — it was only natural they would eventually settle here. Prior to colonizing Giardini Naxos in the 8th century B.C., the Greeks thought it was inhabited by monsters and fierce pirates.

Now a flourishing seaside resort, monsters and
fierce pirates still occupy its busy beaches.

Today, Giardini Naxos has a distinctive festive feel. Everyone is on vacation, laughing, eating, sun-bathing. Unselfconsciously, people wear various parts of bathing suits no matter where they may be: walking down the main street in speedos and t-shirt, lunching at an outdoor trattoria in a skirt and bathing suit top. Terry-cloth cover-ups and flip-flops are the fashion statement of the day. In any other city, traffic would come to a screeching halt, fingers pointing from hands covering laughing mouths. But here in Giardini Naxos, it was all perfectly normal. (And it was sure entertaining to stop and watch that vigorous volley game with its all male players clad in teeny-tiny Speedos.)

In anticipation of a few days’ stay after our spate of one-night hops, we emptied our packs and bounded back down the stairs to the front desk, hoping for a city map to get us oriented.

Our proprietor pulled out a map, but informed us it was her only one and did not know where we could buy our own. Since we do the majority of our exploring on foot, it is imperative we have a map. I feel lost and disoriented without one. But with none yet to be had, all we could do was scribble furtive notes and try to burn directions and information to memory as Anna pointed out and described several things, all delivered at lightning speed. Then she whisked the map away before I could snatch it from her hands and, smiling sweetly, tucked it safely back under the counter.

A little dazed, we walked out and followed her hasty explanation of where to catch the bus up to Taormina. The bus stop was nearby and we were on the brink of trying to buy bus tickets from a parking ticket machine when we realized our mistake. Laughing at ourselves, we boarded the bus, buying tickets directly from the driver. We knew we would have plenty of time to explore our home base — now we were on our way up the mountain to Taormina.

September 8 – A Quick Trip to Taormina

The ride to Taormina itself was memorable. Taormina is straight up and therefore, so is the road to get there. With serpentine switchbacks and precarious curves, expansive panoramic coastline vistas flashed in and out of view. It was breathtaking. Luxurious hotels perched here and there for those wanting a loftier view of the sea than what Giardini Naxos afforded.

The bus drops you a short way down from the center of town. As we walked up the remaining few yards, we came across an inviting little restaurant advertising homemade cuisine: Trattoria Nino.

“Homemade cooking.” And that it was.

We were famished, so the decision was made. Before we even stepped foot into Taormina, we clumped up the steps to this inviting trattoria for a delectable lunch. As we wolfed delicious homemade pasta, two musicians sang and strummed from the trattoria’s lower level.

These spicy characters serenaded us as we walked past the lower level
of Trattoria da Nino. The following evening we would find them strolling and strumming among the trattorias along the waterside promenade of Giardini Naxos.

On full stomachs and ready to go, we arrived at the gates of beautiful Taormina. We were braced for a tourist-filled town and that, indeed, is what we found. But we could tell right off that despite the crowds, this place was amazing.

Our old familiar friend, the Trinacria, symbol of Sicily whom we have run into all over the island. Here she struts on the wall of Trattoria da Nino at the lower approach to Taormina.