“Sicilia antica dellu mi cori, quanti ricchezzi ch 'a'tteni tu!” - "Ancient Sicily, of my heart, how many riches you possess."
Day 3 – February 23, Friday – Taromina
We had a lot of good reviews about this city from friends and acquaintances. It is located about 60 km north of Catania, at the foot of Etna. The ancient city was destroyed by the Arabs, and the current one was built in the Middle Ages. In the 19th and 20th centuries, the city became one of the most important tourist centers in Sicily. We traveled there by train. In general, intercity transport in Italy is very well organized. Trains and buses run regularly and it is easy to reach every point. We walked quite a bit to the station in Catania, because it was supposedly close enough to use the bus… but not quite. We got to the station and prudently bought a round-trip ticket. Price: 22 euros in both directions per person. The trip was pleasant, about an hour. Nothing like the Bulgarian Railways. The toilet is clean, flushes itself, haha, there is water, soap and a hand dryer – things that are not even mentioned on our trains. We got off at the station – Taormina Giardini station (Taormina Giardini) and it was as if we had been transported to another time. I felt like I was on my way to Hogwarts and looking for platform 9 and ¾. We met a Bulgarian family, we started talking. Then we went our separate ways. We hung out in the toilet, came out the other side… and found out that we could only get to the city up there by bus, walking would have been a real challenge. We managed to get on. This is the advantage of speaking the local language – you hear something around and get your bearings, ask… and you save yourself hours of climbing. The bus, which passes every 15 minutes, winds along the narrow, zigzag roads. It reminded me of the Troyan-Karnare pass in the lower part with its countless sharp zigzag turns. Ticket price – 1 euro.
We stopped at the top. Porta Messina and Porta Catania are the two main entrances that mark the ends of the pedestrian street "Corso Umberto". The gates are built into the defensive fortress walls that once protected the ancient city of Taormina. Porta Messina is newer than the other and was originally called Porta Ferdinanda, dating from the Bourbon period in the nineteenth century. Corso Umberto is the main pedestrian street. It passes through the historic center of the city, and along it there are many shops, cafes and restaurants, and in the evening it is always lively with locals and tourists. We got to the square and the Duomo and a breathtaking sight opened before us. We were on the highest part, from where the whole coast could be seen, the snow-capped Etna It rose majestically, and at the bottom it had landed Isola Bella island – the pride of Taormina. On the way, we had a quick bite to eat. I peeked into the church and into a neighboring building where there was a craft exhibition. We took pictures… It was very windy the whole time, and I was without a jacket, wearing a thin blouse. We came across a sale in a store and I got a new blouse, again thin, but wool-cotton, which definitely protected me more from the wind.
Danny and I decided to walk down to the coast. We turned on the navigation and set off. My legs were definitely sore from walking all day for two days, but I didn't even think about giving up. We meandered through the very narrow streets, beautiful, colorful and with terribly steep steps. On the way, we passed by Gardens of the Villa Comunale (Villa Comunale di Taormina). The public garden with free entrance is one of the most beautiful sights in Taormina. The gardens and decorations were created according to the idea of the British noblewoman Lady Florence Trevelyan, called Victorian follies. They are easily accessible from the central part of the city and serve as a place for a walk and rest from both the scorching sun and the busy city life. The wind picked up and I started to feel like I was in Varna. We continued down. It turned out that we still had a long way to go. Here we entered some small streets with many stairs, then we went out onto the road. I still wonder how people live in such a place – to go up and down hundreds of stairs every day… how did they even build this city on this rock, how did they transport their furniture to this impossible place… these are the questions that tormented me. The road was winding and we got very tired. But, there is no such thing as crazy tiredness. With our last strength we reached the last straight – stairs again. As I descended, I realized that I would have to climb them later, but I quickly pushed that terrifying thought out of my mind. We got down to the beach. No sand, just rocks. Ahead of us on the left was a small peninsula that we never got to. On the right was The beautiful island. A narrow isthmus separated it from the coast, and the waves of the Ionian Sea flooded it on both sides. The crossing was easy, as long as you took off your shoes. The water reached the middle of the calf.
It got cold, we urgently needed a toilet, but there was none. There were a few closed establishments that were obviously seasonal. Danny sat down on some plastic chairs and I decided I was going to step on the isle… just to rest a bit, I couldn't bend down to get off, everything hurt so much. We could see people there in the distance and realized that the island was closed for entry and tour. But still I did not give up crossing the sandy isthmus. I woke up and…horror! Swollen feet from walking and walking barefoot on rocks is not a good combination. I stepped on the coarse sand, my feet sank, but the water was warm. I ran to the other shore. There was a group of foreigners drinking beer and having fun. I asked to be photographed, sat for a while to enjoy the experience and returned. We went up, and the stairs seemed to have tripled in size. With all our strength and a lot of huffing and puffing, we reached the road. We entered to warm up in an establishment. Toilet, coffee - we found out that the bus stop was ten meters away, but the bus to the station ran every half hour. We were lucky - we only waited a few minutes.
At the station we talked to a tourist from the Czech Republic. She suggested that we didn't need to wait for the 6:45 p.m. train to Catania, but that we could take the earlier one to Syracuse. It was a regional (regionale), so our ticket was valid. Earlier, the employee had warned us that with this ticket we couldn't get on the Interregionale, which is a different category and more expensive. There was no longer an employee selling tickets, and the machine wasn't working. A group of tourists was trying to get a travel document, but they didn't seem to be able to. They turned out to be Czechs and met our new acquaintance. After a while, we returned the favor by telling her that she had to check her ticket on the little machines before getting on. A boy from Malta appeared, and we chatted with him too. The Maltese language sounds like Italian. Wow - an international, colorful world.
We got home and it was getting dark again. This time we prudently took a bus from the station to Piazza Paolo Borsellino, our starting point for out-of-town walks. Buses in Catania are old and a bit rickety. For comparison - in Varna they are newer and nicer... don't believe it. Tired but satisfied, we got to the accommodation. Shower, snack, drink and in bed.
© 2024 Iliana Dechkova