Travelhector

Some places look wonderful on pictures. Even on the map. And descriptions point out the wonderful setting of a simple campsite at the shore with a nice village close by. Then you arrive and it is – different.

With 37°C, I arrive at San Vito lo Capo and start learning. First, the campsite I have been looking for does not exist anymore. However, the very same GPS address once shared by two campsites now leads to the survived one = Camping Village El Bahira. It looks like old camper places have been abandoned. Which is a pity as they have been located close to the sea – and which is comprehensible as they had been very small and very basic, worse than most simple camper parkings. There is no real sea view from the remaining camper slots, so being close to the shore does not get you the expected buenavista. Next learning is about the “beach”: It is a dry and sun-burned mixture of gravel, stones and outworn deck chairs.

At least I manage to get the spot closest to the pool and with a bit of body work there is even a glimpse on the distant sea.

The plan was to spend some relaxed days here, surrounded by beautiful nature and the village of San Vito lo Capo. During Thursday afternoon, I am fine with the pool and it’s reasonable size. I swim and show off with experienced style, getting me in touch with the pool attendant. He is a typical young Sicilian with the typical accent, meaning I hardly understand anything he says. It sets limits to our conversation, as there only is a small overlap of Sicilian language to the Italian I once learned in Liguria. I try my best to give senseful replies to what I interpret as questions from his side, accompanied by a helpless smile as faint coverage of my cluelessness.

In the evening, the view from the restaurant close to the pool is wonderful, while my next learning is: Today is Thursday. The restaurant is closed on Thursday. The only option is the pizzeria, but no, they do not have gluten-free pizza. Fortunately, I got several packages of potato chips – before I leave this place, I will have eaten up all 3 of them.

Friday comes and with it the arrival of the weekenders: all around me, resident campers appear out of the blue and take over – everything. It is not only that all caravans to my left and to my right are now inhabited by families. It is the fact that each family owns several places and I happen to be in the middle of them like a foreign body. The pool is no place for sports anymore, it has become an immense playground for kids of all ages, chasing one another and swimming around the legs of their chatting grannies. Still, I am grateful. It would be worse being a family member of those strident 10-12 heads-parties, but perhaps it feels more natural when you are born into that kind of life.

Time to go! Knowing that all campgrounds will be full with weekend families by now, I flee by foot, making my way on a small path that seems to lead to San Vito “downtown”. Temperatures reach solid 38° these days and the distance is slightly exceeding my expectation. However, it is nice to be all alone and silent here and even the landscape develops a certain charm.

In the early afternoon, I reach the beach of San Vito lo Capo.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, so best is to look out in the blue of the shimmering water or towards the lighthouse.

Looking at it from another angle, the white sand is hardly visible beneath all the deck chairs and parasols and thousands of people. I leave the crowded beach behind and try out several bars and cafés. First try: beverages, food, it is all there, at least on the menu. After 30 minutes of waiting for a waiter, I give up and try the café next door. No food, just ice cream – seems like San Vito works best with an unhealthy life style. Being a brave girl, I give in and enjoy ice cream, coffee and Campari-Soda. All with the aim to bundle my forces for the 4,5 km way back.

I look around some more, but do not feel like spending the evening here. The town is okay, but not as inviting as Cefalú. It is all very focussed here: 2 or 3 streets close to the beach, the promenade + the small line of sand take in all inhabitants from Sicily’s inlands, at least on weekend days. The rest of the town fades out with hardly anything to offer, so due to the lack of appealing restaurants, I skip my plans of wonderful seafood and turn back to another round of potato chips with Hector.

The return route is familiar and nice in the warm light of the late afternoon. I greet the sheep along the way, enjoy the calm and the panorama, and decide to design my last Sicilian days a bit more thoroughly. I abandon the idea of a daily trip to Trapani (39°C and it will be overcrowded even without me and my van) and instead look forward to my favourite place on this island.

The resumé of San Vito is that I might have been better on another campsite. However, I can easily accept that there are places that touch you with beauty and comfort (Scala dei Turchi with it’s sosta camper, Cefalú with the small bay) and others that don’t. Over all, I prefer independent or alternative places, where people are more travellers than (resident) campers.

>> Next Destinaion

After some Sicllia-style traffic, I wave goodbye to Martina and continue the lonely part of the journey. Only me. And Hector. And thousands of tourists. And Sicilians. Guess, I won’t be that lonely after all.

The first impression, however, is: empty spaces. Seems that there is no one around at Etna Nord… Might be because of yesterday’s eruption. On my way from Catania to a vineyard north of Etna, Hector decides more or less on his own that we should check if everything is still ok up there. And, strange enough, apart from a huge sulphur cloud, we see blue skies all around us.

Next stop is the famous Gole d’Alcántara: a gorge with artful, yet natural basalt rock and ice-cold water. And a Disneyland of tourism around it. I had an idea about nature, maybe an uncomfortable tour with marching through hip-deep water, stunning views on cathedral-like stonewalls and such things. Instead, it is all about boring pathways, blocked ways to the gorge and picknick-forbidden-all over.

At least, some of the facets become visible by holding up the camera and taking pictures on the assumption that the angle + distance might lead to some photos worth my memory’s space.

Finally, I make it to “the beach”. If you want to see the Gole d’Alcántara, believe me: going down (by elevator even) to the beach is all you need. Do not let yourself get talked into any further than this… Silly enough, it might be no problem at all to wander through the water to further sections around it and find even better paths then the ones created by the tourist-machinery here.

Perhaps it is some common rule during mixed holidays: The first day alone always is a weird one. Consequently, when I turn to a recommended vineyard, there is neither a possibility for wine tasting during the afternoon, nor do they accept tiny shiny Hector on their front-yard for an overnight stay.

In the end, I spend a relaxed evening at the well-known camping paradise, about 20km south of the Etna. And only there, sitting outside and wondering why I seem to feel grains of sand on every surface, I realize that the volcano still is active and erupting diminutive grains of lava. They float through the air, invisible except for µ-sized particles in my wine glass… Finally, the happy end of the day is that Hector took me up on Etna North, down to the Gole d’Alcántara and, via a vineyard, back to the sea – without being boiled, drowned or drunk. Now, isn’t that something?

>> Next Destination

Siracusa and its surrounding area have been inhabited since ancient times, now with 2 temporary citizens added (Martina + me), all cosy on the simple camper parking “von Platen”. It looks like leftovers from a former industrial site, now used for busses and camper vans. With lookouts on the adjacent estate, it even comes with the illusion of supervision and bodyguards. Which is not true. True is that we feel comfortable here and appreciate the warm welcome from other guests, from the gatekeeper and the drivers of downtown-shuttle busses.

The Greek Theatre and further Roman relics are right around the corner of our camper parking. On our way, we pass by the lookout tower and admire the futuristic church “Madonna delle Lacrime” that seems to be an elder cousin of Bahá’i Temple in Hofheim/Langenhain.

The historic site of ancient ruins opens at 9:00 am. We arrive at the main spot, the Greek Theatre that awaits us since the 5^th century BC, at 9:10 am, only to bump in two busloads full of pensioners. Although they do not appear like super-sports-seniors, they somehow managed to outperform us. With a sigh we give in to the early-bird-crowd and hand them over our cameras – at least it eases the search for a portrait-photographer.

Next time I come here, I will order more stable weather and organize an evening at the theatre festival. The scenery is inviting and, with wooden planks on the echelons, it must be comfortable enough to enjoy modern interpretations of historic dramas.

We leave the amphitheatre and make our way to the Ear of Dionysius. The spiral shape and the altitude of the natural cavern produce impressive acoustics, tempting people to clap and sing and shout and do any kind of strange noise just for the fun of it.

The ancient Greeks have been successful in culture and politics and it is all obvious how they got there: strong hierarchies on short distances. The quarry for the amphitheatre is just around the corner, interspersed with natural and handmade caves. No wonder that the Romans, some hundreds of years later, took over the place and added a fight arena. More blood, less elegiacs – sometimes culture is a question of habit.

Satisfied with the cultural aspects of today, we get back to Hector. We hop on board and head off to Camping Sabbiadoro which will be our home base for sunny hours, a nice beach bay and a trip to Noto – adventurous public transportation included…

>> Next Destination

So. Everybody tells me, Siracusa is soooo beautiful! Well… the first impression is at least ambivalent.

As with most things in life, it seems to be a matter of timing. Huge parts of Ortigia, the baroque peninsula of the city, must have been fabulous around 1705, when the buildings were brand-new. Nowadays it rather looks run-down – just like us during the one rain shower that gets us, jumping athletically under the parasols of the very next restaurant.

While the afternoon enfolds, Siracusa shows more and more facets of beauty, tourism and weather. The sea turns from grey to blue and buildings get brighter, especially when approaching the historic core of Ortigia.

When we reach the Cattedrale metropolitana della Navità die Maria Santissima, we put aside any scepticism and stare fascinated at the mixture of Greek and baroque style, Catholic symbols amid Doric pillars and the dignity ascending behind scattered tourists.

The atmosphere is particular. Peaceful and strange, dark and bright mixing up, somehow pure and decorated all the same.

From the outside, the cathedral is not less interesting. Behind the baroque portal you find the ancient pillars from Greek eras with the later Christian church built in, creating a unique symbiosis of architectural styles.

We continue our way and follow the travel book’s guidance straight into the next church: Santa Lucia alla Badia. It contains a huge painting from Caravaggio that attracts far more people into the small church than it can swallow. Consequently, masses of people shuffle through the aisles, all aiming to get a good selfie in front of the painting, accompanied by the constant megaphone reminders that it is absolutely forbidden to take pictures inside the church.

Further down the road we reach the next highlight which is the phenomenon of a fresh water well located only inches from the salty sea. It attracted settlers already thousands of years ago and still is famous for being the source of European papyrus.

You do not have to drink the water directly from the well though, there are enough bars and restaurants around. A glass of aperitivo and some rays of sun are all it takes to finally convince us of Siracusa’s qualities.

We stroll along some further for the rest of the afternoon, detecting wide space and relaxed students around the Castello Maniace, a studio filled with sensual modern paintings where we have a nice chat with the artist and a local festival where they celebrate stalking men (= men walking on stalks, joking on naïve tourists).

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

We conclude the evening with fantastic food at Divino Mare and come to the opinion that Siracusa may not be as charming as Taormina on the first glance, but definitely has a special flair.

>> Next Destination