I’d been to Sicily before so I shouldn’t have been surprised when we drove into Siracusa that summer day. Forgotten in time on Sicily’s southern shore, Siracusa would make a great 1920 movie setting.
The garbage collectors were on strike, dumpsters carelessly tilted on narrow scarred sidewalks. The narrow streets were lined with parked cars that tilted over broken curbs and drivers honked impatiently as they lurched down narrow alleys.
The only positive things I could say about that day was that the sun was shining, and this was our vacation, the third trip to Sicily with my daughter, Lise.
The roads were adequate on the outskirts of Siracusa, but we didn’t have to go much further for things to change. Lise was driving and I had a map but there were no visible street signs. As the streets narrowed to alleys full of cars, motorcycles, and dumpsters, we were lost.
Italian drivers are impatient. They honk. Not wanting to cause any problem we turned left onto a narrow street we couldn’t see. We were in trouble.
I tried to placate my daughter who was shrieking the “F” word just as both side mirrors collapsed on our rented Fiat. We were descending the steepest street in the world, far more frightening than any hill in Dunedin, New Zealand. Although that alley was but one block, it seemed to take forever, and we parked as soon as we could so that we both could rekindle our self confidence.
We finally located our BandB. But nothing was simple that day! We wrestled with three locks attempting entry to the modern facility we had booked.
We two exhausted Canadians unpacked, freshened up and walked away certain that an Italian dinner and vino rosso would certainly revive us.
We had walked less than fifty feet from our BandB, Lise a few paces ahead of me, when I heard a loud car horn behind me. Turning, I saw a black Fiat, the female driver flailing her arms wildly.
“I wonder what that woman wants?” I bellowed to Lise.
Laughing, she yelled back. “Mom, she’s Italian. She’s Italian. Forget it!”
We took another few steps, then, “Hey, Mom, wait!”
I turned again, not believing then or even now, who I saw that afternoon in Siracusa.
Susan, my younger daughter, had decided to surprise us for ten days, travelling twenty-six hours from Vancouver, BC!
Those ten days with both daughters were some of the most special in my life. To step back and see them together was an unexpected and very precious gift.
We spent time in Catania enjoying the great market and enjoyed a day long circum Etna train trip. Lise and I took Susan to the Roman amphitheatre in Taormina where we had a clear view of Mount Etna blowing off steam.
We flew back to Rome and drove to Tuscany, Orvieto and north before bidding bon voyage to Susan.
So, Siracusa, you may be old, grubby, and loud, but I’ll never forget you. That trip couldn’t have been better!
By J Alexander