Its no joke. Naples to the south of Sicily in a Fiat 500 and back again in seven days. To us, ‘trapped’ onthe glorious Isle of Corfu, it seemed like plenty of time.
From the North to South of Corfu, it takes maybe two hours? so maybe our idea of time was skewed, like when you come back to Dublin from living in London, you think everything is really far away?
Be aware, you have been warned, Naples to Cosenza is three hours, even at night.
Even longer if you leave your handbag on the ground at the car hire parking lot and have to make a twenty minute detour to retrieve it.
Turns out Italian thieves are really considerate. They take all your cash and leave your cards, passport and personal stuff.
I have this vision of my travelling companion, Jane, racing across the carpark towards where we had picked up the car, returning several minutes later,triumphant, with my bag.
The relief was massive. By now, it was begining to get dark. We made our way to the Autostrada and after two hours, I needed a break from driving, so we pulled into a sevicio. Then I noticed the complete absence of cash.
We phoned ahead to our Airbnb, who kindly said he would wait up for us. This man was really some sort of saint. He met us in the old town of Cosenza at one in the morning, a smile on his face, as if it were noon.
We slept like logs in the enormous rooms that had the feeling of a retreat.The front doors were ancient pices of wood, six metres high with hinges that looked to be one hundred years old but that swung the huge weight effortlessly.
Apparently the bells of the church next to us rang at seven am. I didn’t hear a thing. The feeling of peace there was profound.
Next morning, we explored the old town and Jane was impressed with the local cathedral.
Cosenza is halfway between Naples and Villa San Giovanni, from where the ferry to Sicily goes. We set off and made the ferry around noon, crossing the Straits of Messina. At this stage, we were getting used to the terrifying experience that is Italian driving. The constant car horns, the endless tunnels, the trucks pushing you out of the slow lanes, the fast cars pushing you into the slow lane.
Sicily was a bit calmer. We were proud of ourselves finding the tiny town of Mota Camastra, a little place carved out of the mountain top north of Mount Etna. Our Airnbn was cosy, ie tiny, but we had fun visiting the local ‘restaurant’. It had an enticing lino floor with four plastic tables, with different red tablecloths on each one. The flowers were roses, but not real, the walls had 1970s cladding but the enterprising young woman running it was as proud as if it were Michelin starred.
Across the road was her shop and kitchen , and in the rain, plates of pasta were carried across with great ceremony. We sat and drank red wine and chatted to a couple who were the only other tourists in the whole village that night and turned out to be staying upstairs from us. This was one of the towns ussed for some scenes of ‘Il Padrino’ or the Godfather movi
We drove south next morning, and covered a lot of ground. Our next Airbnb was in Cassabile, near Syracuse.
We encountered some interesting goats and sheep occupying a derelict train station. We drove along a quiet road lined on both sides with lemon groves, the delicious scent drifting in the window. Lunch was in Taormina, in a place called Carpe Diem , to the accompaniment of a thunderstorm . We should have avoided driving in Taormina, given the very narrow streets and the fact that all the guidebooks said not to drive there. Roads were built where no road should be – snaking around above the town supported by concrete columns and nothing else, like a sort of rollercoaster. We made it out of there and past Catania.
There is a vast plain of industrialisation between Catania and Syracuse. And here is where we had an enforced two hour layover due to an accident on the Autostrada. We had bought lunch in a supermarket in Taormina so we surreptiously filled our plastic cups with wine and had our sangwishes in a servicio. When the traffic started moving, we got going again. Approaching Syracuse, we had the urge for some retail therapy. Plus Jane had forgotten her bikini, so we sought out and found the Archimedes shopping centre. Ah such heaven, after the drought of shoppping that is Corfu. Once we had found what we wanted, we spent some time looking for the Archimedes shop, only to realise that was the name of the whole shoppinig mall.Now you know. You heard it here first.
Happy after the therapy, we drove to Cassabile, explaining to our host, Mark, that we had got stuck in a traffic jam, and a little about the shopping spree. He sent us a video of how to get into his complex, which consisted of a number of houses. They were actually converted paddocks, very comfortable, with no expense spared.
In fact Mark turned out tobe no expenses spared type of guy. He gave us the studio next to the one we had booked for free as we had thought there were two rooms not one. Next morning, he brought us on a tour of his riding stables. My first awareness that morning was the sound of hooves gallopiing , not very far from the accommodation and the whoops of the riders as they urged their horses on. It was marvellous to see them at the end of the gallop, turning around to ride back again. It was then you heard the sound of birds singing and noticed the surrounding trees and shrubs. A magnificent setting in the heart of Sicilian horse country.
Mark arrived with breakfast of Canolos, incredibly sweet cream filled Italian pastry.We asked him not to bring it the next day as it was way too sweet for our liking.He then led us to where his horses live, and where he has two zebras, a family of deer and many dogs and cats.
We met the jockeys who had been out earlier and weenjoyed watching the horses on their walker and being showered.
We spent the day at a nearby beach and walked into an exclusive members only hotel to get drinks – it was the only way. Then we stopped in Cassbile’s only twenty four hour shop – where everything from the salami to the tomatoes, to the wine were made by ‘Mama’. Our server entertained us with a non stop repartee about how everything was , besides being made by ‘Mama’, from Sicily, not Italy.
Let me mention the Paper Old Moon restaurant, where we ate the night before. We sat in the square of Cassabile and had an excellent meal , made feel like part of the family and we ended up going there the next night too.
Back to the next night- Do Not Go to the Ortigio market at night and expect to find it open. The only faux pas of our generous host was to recommend we go to Ortigia at night so we blame him- Sorry Mark. Thats how we found ourselves back at Old Paper Moon again, this time really treated like long lost relatives. We will go back there some day.
Let me not forget Noto. Close to Cassabile, It was reconstructed after and earthquake some three hundred years ago inthe Baroque style. The architecture is stunning and we loved this haven for artists and tourist hotspot.
At this point, you will notice, we were reaching the mid point of our seven days. so – yes, we had to think about getting back up to Naples. The thought of Italy was like another world compared to the easy going, country life of Sicily, with its endless tress, lemon groves and beautiful coastline.
We set off early next day, emphasising the no need for canolas to our host, and got to Messina for the ferry. This place is very unlovely. Someone should do something. why are port towns always like this?
Now at this point, yours truly , the driver, had ideas of taking a ferry all the way to Salerno. I insisted on spending two hours wandering around looking for it, only to find it runs at 2am . So we found tickets to cross to Villa San Giovanni and booked accomodation in a place called Scylla. I don’t know how cranky I was, but we were both very glad to find our hotel on the edge of the town. It was right on the beach and again, enormous rooms. The Marigold hotel came to mind. It was the owner’s pet project and we had the most delicious swordfish ther that night. We had noticed a boat circling in front of the beach and before we left, asked what is was, I t was the swordfish fishing boat. Can’t get fresher than that, although we had great reservations about the level of the chef’s bum crack. It was there at the same level the next morning. How did he manage that?
Breakfast was a bizarre affair. I came down to find Jane surrounded by a bunch of chattering French people. Ah she’s practising her French – why else would she voluntarily place herself in the middle of all that. Turns out, they had surrounded her, plonking themselves down in an over friendly way. I sat at another table and Jane gave me an understanding look – unusual I know…It was only when they mentioned going onto the beach to say a prayer that the penny dropped.
This was the day of three accomodations. Our plan was to leap up to Salerno the following day, to be close enough to have an easy drive to Naples airport. Our first Airbnb in Paolo, was not far enough, so we cancelled it. the next one was in Scalea, (where the cherry tomatoes were only 1.49 a kilo) but it resembled a tower block in London and Jane was depressed just looking at it. It being her birthday next day, we demurred and booked our third accommodation on the delightful coast of Maratea. Billed as the Amalfi that hasn’t yet been exploited, we stayed in an adorable old hotel, the San Diego, where we were given a choice of three different bedrooms. Across the road was a swimming pol and beyond was the spectacular coastline for which the west coast is famous. We had a walk to the beach next morning, down old steps, with dodgy wooden rails,surrounded by pine trees and scuttling squirrels.
Our last night was spent in the middle of Salerno, very close to the Old Town. We played a game of Whats Your Language with the host before we realised that when she said left of the eleveator, she assumed we took the elevator and didn’t come up the stairs. eventually, we found the place.
This was officially Jane’s birthday, and again, she appreciated the cathedrals. We saw the Duomo and really enjoy the old streets and artwork.
We had an excellent meal of mussels and polenta at a place called Pepes and made our way back to the apartment.
We made our way without incident- (I swear)- to the airport, flying directly back to Corfu. Giving back the car was easier than getting it when we had to wait for an hour to see whether my credit card being from Greece was acceptable, given that my driver’s licence is Irish. We did hang around trying to intimidate the customer assistance, whom we strongly suspected of stealing my cash.He disappeared pronto, and left his colleague to examine the scratches on our trusty Fiat 500. We got away very lightly I think, with only one minor scratch in the whole trip.
Italy yes yes yes. One week – not at all. Take three. Its a wonderful country and Sicily really stole my heart away.
AH SURE AZURE 
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