It was my seventh trip to Italy, the third time I had travelled to Sicily with my daughter, Lise, and our first trip to Siracusa.

So, really, I shouldn’t have been surprised when we drove into that small southern town that seems, forgotten in time, remindful of a 1920 movie set.

Although there are fascinating relics, cathedrals, and Mount Etna, Sicily is not applauded for cleanliness, serenity, or welcoming smiles.

Siracusa garbage collectors were on strike and overflowing dumpsters decorated the uneven sidewalks as we drove into town.

The streets narrowed as tilted autos and motorcycles cluttered the cobbled narrow sidewalks. Drivers honked impatiently as we tried to proceed with care.

Lise was driving and the roads on the fringe of town were adequate. But, we didn’t have to go very far for all of that to change. I did have a city map but there were no street signs on any street corner.

As the streets narrowed and became obstructed by parked cars, motorcycles and garbage, we were lost.

Impatient drivers honked and shook their fists at our Fiat as we tried to locate our B and B accommodation.

Lise turned left hoping to escape the busy narrow noisy alley we agreed would lead us nowhere. The turn was sudden and we were unable to assess the alley thoroughly before turning the steering wheel. We were in trouble!

As I tried to placate my daughter who was shrieking the “F” word, both Fiat side mirrors collapsed!

We were descending what seemed to be the steepest narrow street in the world! It seemed far steeper than any hill in Dunedin, NZ!

Descending that narrow-corroded pavement seemed to take forever and we stopped to recover from our loss of self-confidence.

Finally, thanks to a kind young fellow, we located our prebooked B&B, found a parking spot nearby, grabbed our luggage, and started out to freshen up.

But! Nothing was simple that day!

Both Lise and I fought with three gate locks attempting entry to the property that surrounded the modern accommodation. Exhausted, we took our time refreshing ourselves physically and mentally as we thought of the great Italian dinner we would enjoy with more than a sip of vino Rosso.

And we promised each other we would keep our words polite as we stepped back into the street to find a great Italian restaurant.

We walked less than fifty feet, Lise a few steps ahead, partially hidden by a garbage dumpster when I heard a loud impatient car horn behind me.

Turning, I saw a black Fiat, the woman driver flailing her arms wildly.

“I wonder what’s the matter with that woman,” I yelled to Lise.

Lise laughed, ” Mom, she’s Italian! She’s Italian! Forget it!”

We took a few more steps before more honking and then I heard…

“Hey! Mom! Wait!”

I turned again, not believing then, or even now who I saw that afternoon in Siracusa!

My younger daughter, Susan, had decided to surprise us and join us for a ten-day vacation, travelling twenty-six hours from Victoria, British Columbia.

Those ten days were some of the most special in my life. Just stepping back to enjoy my daughters together was a very special and unexpected gift.

We explored Siracusa for a couple of days, spent time in Catania where there is a great market outside the cathedral. We did a circum Etna rail trip and 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, then drove to Orvieto and north to Tuscany before hugging Susan goodbye.

So, Siracusa, you may be old, loud, and grubby, but I’ll never forget you. When I think of our trip, I smile.

It couldn’t have been a better vacation!

…..

Revised June 14, 2022

Joan Alexander