Marina di Ragusa to Ragusa

Ragusa - Chiesa di Santa Maria dell'Itria

It has been quite a while since I put fingers to keyboard and my apologies to those who commented that I rather left the season hanging with my last update, as it appeared before we settled into our winter berth at Marina di Ragusa.
It can be confusing at first when one sees ‘Marina’ on a chart or map of Italy as this does not necessarily mean a place for boats and yachts; it simply means a seaside town or village. In this case Marina di Ragusa (MdR colloquially) is a small town, or village really, with a population of around 5,000 in the winter months and closer to 65,000 in the summer. The harbour, the Porto Turistico, is a popular winter stop-over and a number of hundred yachts of many nationalities end up staying for the off-season. Some from as far afield as Canada, Israel, Australia, with a solid EU contingent making up the rest.

The beach at Marina di Ragusa

While many owners only stay for part of the winter the live-aboards stick it out for the duration and many a good time is to be had at the numerous functions that fill the weekly social calendar. More of that another time though, as this is meant to be an opportunity for me to share a recent day trip to Ragusa. Ragusa is just half an hour northeast from here and has nothing to do with the Swiss chocolate bar of the same name, from which I lived when I was student. The history of this place extends back even further than my student days though as can be seen in the beautiful Baroque architecture. Despite its even longer history dating back to 2nd century BC the old part of the town is only from the middle of the Baroque period onwards as there was an earthquake in 1693, which destroyed just about everything.

Built on two steep hills, Ragusa Superiore and Ibla became one town in the 1920s and it is one of the more picturesque places you are likely to see in Italy or anywhere for that matter. There is a uniformity of style, and, while there is an abundance of street signs in places, there is a pleasing absence of many of the ugly TV antennas and Satellite dishes one sees everywhere else. All of this conspires to transport you to a different point in time. There being only a handful of visitors now in winter also helps.

Cattedrale di San Giovanni Battista	Ceiling of the Cathedral
The fascist era reflected in the Post Office building	Hardly a satellite dish in sight

Its filmic character has already been exploited as it is one of the locations for the Il commissario Montalbano series from the books by Andrea Camillieri. As an aside RAI filmed a scene near the Porto in MdR earlier in the year. The yachties, ever boisterous, were asked to tone it down for the sake of the sound stage, which they agreed to do as long as the star of the show Luca Zingaretti came to say hello in the bar. This he duly did and the occasion has been immortalised in a video clip on the Stella Marina Bar FB Page. Heady circles. But Back to Ragusa: even the touch screen terminal outside the tourist information office blinks information about Montalbano country and related sights. Since the baroque period pre-dates television somewhat, I move on from these thoughts and wander the steep cobbled alleys empty of the distraction of throngs of tourists. Only a few of us seem to be there, all quite discretely taking photographs and enjoying the views and the breathtaking steps. My iPhone app registered that I had climbed 14 floors. I will get it calibrated soon as it certainly seemed like more.

Baroque - obviously	The Duomo	Confessional for bad jybes
Another quaint B&B	Hidden oasis	More steps await

Looking down from the top of the hill and over the valley one of the first things to catch the eye is the Campanile della Chiesa di Santa Maria dell'Itria. The spire is decorated with Majolica from Caltagirone and although not as imposing as the Duomo, is the most eye-catching of the numerous churches. Most are quite modest inside, plastic chairs for pews rather spoiling the Rococo style. At the piazza della Repubblica, the lowest point between the two hills of each side of Ragusa, is the Chiesa del Purgatorio, dedicated to all the saints and souls in purgatory. I am not a scholar on these matters, but given the number of steps back up to the Chiesa Santa Maria delle Scale, the notion for the need of one’s soul to be cleansed is brought into sharp relief. I can say that the café serving cold beer by the bus stop was heavenly though. By this time I had been walking around for many hours and it was time to catch a bus back to MdR.

Early sunset at the Porto  - a bit before 17h00

Marin di Ragusa on No Foreign Land

Castellammare and Trapani with a taste of Marsala

Much as we didn't want to, we had to leave Palermo and move on to our next stop, Castellammare del Golfo. At this time of the year it is a sleepy place and not a single umbrella is to be seen on the long white beach. This felt more like the level of activity we had become accustomed to and we spent a very relaxing couple of days here. One hour of which was spent at the top of the mast sorting out a wiring issue and releasing the spare halyard which had become stuck. This is an activity usually reserved for someone much lighter than me, but given that Catherine would rather be in control of the winch (and my fate) than be 20 meters up in the air on a rocking piece of aluminium, it fell to me to pretend I was fearless. I do quite a good impression - on the outside.

Arrival view of Castellammare	Co-skipper's reading room
A shrine to plasterers	Restaurants a plenty

As the timetable to get to Ragusa started to catch up with us we left two days later for Trapani, a town neither of us had heard of, but which we discovered to be a charming place. In this instance though safe refuge was probably the main quality we shall remember it by. We had seen bad weather forecast and since we knew it was the kind where you can't even leave the boat, we took the opportunity to visit Marsala by car before things got windy. After working out the pedals and mirrors and indicator thingies we set off  - I haven't driven a car in months. Of course we went Marsala tasting too and some preconceived notions of the wine being a sickly sweet cooking tipple for chicken were soon dispelled when we tasted an ancient blend made according to the Soleras method. A word of advice, "Fine Marsala" is the lowest quality and is to be avoided.

Marsala

5000 litre barrels of Marsala

We made our way back to Trapani and the marina in the evening and found that the Ormeggiatore had moved our boat from the external SE facing pontoon to an inner NW facing one to make room for a 66ft Oyster. This turned out to be very fortuitous as early the next morning, exactly as predicted, the low pressure system kicked in and the Scirocco started blowing with a vengeance. Well, actually it started with what we later thought was quite a gentle 35 knots, as in the afternoon it was gusting past 50 knots and making life for the Oyster and his neighbours on the outer pontoon very bumpy. So much so, in fact, that the pontoon snapped in half. the Ormeggiatori were amazing and were able to secure everyone, despite some boats breaking cleats as well as multiple mooring lines. I had switched off the instruments but the chap opposite told me he had measured 60.5 knots. In the morning it all seemed to have returned to relative calm. I looked at the reading and it was only 30 knots... there is a palpable sense the season is drawing to a close.

Broken Pontoon

Christian fixing in the morning

Bumpy for some

Since the sea takes a day or more to settle down after this kind of wind, we took the opportunity to visit Erice, which is not far away. The village is perched on a hilltop 750 metres above sea level and on a clear day you can see Tunisia. This was not a clear day though and we could barely see to the bottom of the hill. We managed to dodge most of the tourists and spent a couple of hours there before returning to the marina and preparing for our sail the next morning. As it turned out a number of us were leaving very early in the morning, some for Sardinia, some for Malta and one for Gibraltar so we gathered at the marina cafe and had a few beers before getting an early night.

Trapani polished	..yet to be polished,
playful,	..life's a beach.

ERICE

A morning in Palermo

Serpotta Ceiling in Palermo

Today instead of our staple Muesli we went in search of, and I kid you not, ice cream filled brioche for breakfast. It took us a while to find, what with all the distractions along the way, but we finally got there and enjoyed this incongruous but delicious treat at lunchtime.
But let me start at the beginning. After sticking my nose in a couple of chandlers we got waylaid by a nautical bookshop, which leaped out at us and held us captive for more minutes and Euros than we had planned. All in all, a nice divertimento. Our dog-eared analogue map, still refused to reveal the location of a famous purveyor of the above mentioned indulgence though and despite some significant recent experience in navigation we realised we had to ask someone. So we headed toward where there seemed to be some commotion going on. As we rounded the corner we came across a large crowd of people standing silently in the street and on the steps of the church opposite. It was clearly not the moment to ask any of the bystanders what was going on. This was, and is, mafia territory and curiosity killing the cat is no longer just a funny cliché. Anyway, our interest piqued, we stood there for a while and realised that the many young adults wearing white t-shirts with a girl’s face printed on them signalled that this was a sombre and sad occasion. Some minutes later, accompanied by applause and large bunches of white balloons a white coffin was carried out of the church doors on the shoulders of six young men.

Funeral in Palermo	Mourning fireworks
Anti Mafia Tour	Businesses against racketeering

As the amplified sound of Ave Maria sung on the steps, to the accompanying release of balloons and white doves into the clear blue autumn sky began, all eyes for a centro storico block welled up. Some barely audible words about the young person’s life drew repeated peals of applause until there was total silence in the proceedings. This was then broken by a series of deafening firework rockets being shot into the air as if to catch the fast disappearing balloons. As the cortege moved on we, and the other bystanders, caught our breath and tried to remember what had brought us here in the first place. Finding the restaurant was not really a priority anymore but nevertheless we enquired where it was and at the same time gently asked about the funeral. An ‘18 year old girl’ was all we heard. As the by now small crowd dissipated with lumps in throats still evident, we walked silently in the direction of familiar streets.

Oratory Courtyard

Oratorio di Santa Cita

Not a hundred yards up the cobbled alley we passed a very trendy looking tourist information point and looked in to ask about the puppet theatre we were thinking of going to later. The tiny shop, it turns out, is home to an independent business that offers both tourist information and a brokerage for services like: vintage Vespa hire, personalised cooking courses, baby equipment rental, and more. The one that caught my eye was the “Anti Mafia Day Tour”. ‘Is that really a thing these days?’ was soon set straight by a swift history lesson by Martha, the manager. The tour is run under the auspices of Addiopizzo which grew out of a civil rebellion that boldly rejected the protection rackets and the pizzo – protection money. Their orange X logo on shop and restaurant doors signifies this defiant stance. Strength in numbers has meant that as an association they are growing and Sicilians proudly support these establishments. Ultimately the mafia prefers to operate where there is less hassle and since the Addiopizzo movement bravely and diligently reports every transgression to the police they live in relative peace and quiet. It works in part of course because others still kowtow and pay the pizzo.

More puppets than Westminster

Barbiere di Sevilla

Musical strings

The history is fascinating and complex, but she explained, while it is still current, it is not like the dark days of the 1980s. ‘Those guys don’t go around the streets shooting at each other anymore, they sit in the Parliament now’. Her own brush with the local Don sounds like folklore she admits, but just ten years ago while moving into a local apartment she was summoned and ‘interviewed’ to see if she posed some threat or other to his business plan. It may sound scary, but the other side of it is that if people have a problem they don’t go to the city council. The local mafia sorts it out. This can even be for such mundane things as garbage that hasn’t been collected. Mundane, but pervasive based on my observation.

Street food

One portion?

Chestnuts

These areas are gradually being re-gentrified and as this happens million Euro apartments are to be seen in their former glory right next to ones where families with no money and living in squalor steal electricity from the grid with jumper cables. This stark contrast is part of the grit and charm of Palermo though and tolerance and coexistence is woven into the fabric of the society here.

Frida Khalo Pizza

Ice Cream Brioche

Our discussion was interrupted by a Kiwi chap wishing to print a boarding pass so we said our goodbyes and continued our fast disappearing morning. Just a few blocks further on we found a great little Cioccolateria that served brioche with ice cream for breakfast – at mid-day. It seems a little trivial to go into the details of this offering now, but it is delicious with Nocciola and Pistacchio and worth a detour to find. As we paid for the cappuccini and brioche we realised it must be lunchtime already.

The neglected	awaiting restoration
the cared for	the opera house

Not much further away is a restaurant that serves typical street food either take-away or table service and which had been totally full the evening before so we thought we might see if we could get a seat. We did, right next to Tommy – the boarding-pass-printing-Kiwi from the tourist office. Tommy, it turns out, is a restaurateur in Wellington and owns a chain of Pizzerias. He is about to open a pasta place and was on a foodie ‘research’ trip (I know the kind). We spoke about pizza dough hydration levels and bulk fermentation periods while eating delicious street food and drinking crisp Sicilian white at one of the oldest restaurants in Palermo, Antica Focacceria San Francesco, a founding member of the Addiopizzo movement. I glanced at my watch, it wasn’t even 2pm.

Leaving Mount Pellegrino behind for Castellammare