“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 many good reviews about this city from friends and acquaintances. It is located about 60 km north of Catania, at the foot of Mount Etna. The ancient city was destroyed by the Arabs, and the present one was built in the Middle Ages. In the 19th and 20th centuries, the city became one of the most important tourist centers of Sicily. We traveled there by train. In general, intercity transport in Italy is very well organized. Trains and buses run regularly and it's easy to get anywhere. We walked a long way to the station because it was supposed to be close enough to take a bus... but not quite. We got to the station and prudently bought a round trip ticket. Price: 22 euros both ways per person. The ride was pleasant, about an hour. Nothing to do with BDZ. The toilet is clean, it flushes itself, lol, there is water, soap and a hand dryer - things that are not even mentioned in our trains. We got off at the station - Taormina Giardini Station and it was as if we were transported to another time. I felt like I was on my way to Hogwarts looking for platform 9 and ¾. We met a Bulgarian family, we talked. Then each on his own way. We hung out by the toilet, came out the other side… and found that we could only get to the top of town by bus, walking would have been a real challenge. We managed to get on. This is the advantage of speaking the local language – you sense something around and find your way around, ask... and save yourself hours of climbing. The bus that runs every 15 minutes winds along the narrow, zigzag roads. It reminded me of the Troyan-Karnare pass at the bottom with the 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 below it perched the island of Isola Bella, the pride of Taormina. On the way we ate on foot. I peeked into the church and into an adjacent building where there was an exhibition of crafts. We were taking pictures... It was very windy all the time and I was without a jacket, in a thin blouse. In one store we came across a discount and I got a new blouse, thin but woolen-cotton, which definitely protected me more from the wind.
Danny and I decided to walk down to the coast. We launched the navigation and set off. My feet definitely hurt from walking all day for two days, but I didn't even think of giving up. We meandered through the very narrow streets, beautiful, colorful and with terribly steep steps. On the way we passed the Villa Comunale Gardens (Villa Comunale di Taormina). The public gates 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 to 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. Turns out we still have a long way to go. Sometimes we entered some small streets with many stairs, sometimes 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 in this rock, how did they move the furniture to this impossible place... such questions tormented me. The road was winding and we got very tired. But there is no crazy fatigue. With all our strength, we reached the last straight – stairs again. As I descended I realized that I would have to climb them later, but I quickly put that terrifying thought out of my mind. We went down to the beach. No sand, just rocks. In front of us on the left was a small peninsula, which we never went to. On the right was Beautiful Island. It was separated from the shore by a narrow isthmus, and the waves of the Ionian Sea washed over it on both sides. Passing was easy as long as you got undressed.
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 were chatting with a tourist from the Czech Republic. She told us that we didn't need to wait for the 6:45pm train to Catania and we could take the earlier one to Syracuse. It was a regional, so we could fight. Earlier, the employee had warned us that with this ticket we cannot board the Interregionale, which is a different category and is more expensive. There was no longer an employee selling tickets and the machine was not working. A group of tourists was trying to get a transport document, but apparently they never succeeded. They turned out to be Czech and met our new acquaintance. After a while we returned the favor by telling her that before boarding she should check her ticket at the small machines. A boy from Malta appeared, we also chatted with him. The Maltese language sounds like Italian.
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