The latter part of the flight over was terrific, with snow on the Gran Sasso first and then, towards the end, there was the fabulous spectacle of the Aeolian Islands with Stromboli puffing away. Etna, on Sicily itself, was puffing a bit but nothing to suggest the major eruption it had the next winter. We flew past it and into Catania.

I was pleased to find that I could get a bus direct from the airport to Siracusa without going into Catania and only had about fifty minutes to wait with a view of Etna to while away the time. More of the Sicilian coast than I had expected was spoilt by industry and far less by tourism and to be honest I did not particularly enjoy the bus journey to Siracusa. Fortunately it was only about an hour. I had booked for the first two nights at the Bel-Sit and I had seen where it was on the small map in the Rough Guide. Would I be able to recognise it on the ground though and save time going to the terminus and back? I was quite proud of myself as I alighted from the coach, got out my case, helped an attractive woman out with hers and watched the bus leave. My pride lasted all of twenty-three seconds until I discovered that the case was not mine! Somehow my Italian came up to telling the woman I had helped what had happened and I was given a lift in the car picking her up to pursue the bus. Strangely the conversation with the woman driver was in the neutral language of Spanish! There at its terminus was the bus and there, outside it were my case, some very crestfallen passengers who had of course lost theirs, the driver who looked as though he would rather be somewhere else – anywhere else in fact – and the inevitable police inspector. Great was the jubilation, as G.F. Handel said! This ended very well for me with a lift back up the hill and the first woman escorting me – and carrying my case – to the Bel-Sit; a bit more than I had deserved perhaps!

Two areas demand to be visited. These are the old part of the city at Ortygia, where the bus terminus was, and the Parco Archeológico. I went down to Ortygia that same evening, just too late for the tourist office opening times, and enjoyed a brief stroll round and a good pizza. It was quite good enough to call me back the next morning but, other than getting the map and literature I wanted from the tourist office, I was just a shade disappointed. Ortygia is near enough an island and not a very big one; I had not realised that the point, which should have given a good sea view, was out of bounds to visitors because of the requirements of the army. In general the area should probably be regarded as a must see by anyone who has not been to any of the beautiful old towns on the Italian mainland but, unusually, I was as much struck by the displayed poverty of some areas as anything. The cathedral is very interesting, though scarcely beautiful, from the outside with bits being part of an earlier Greek temple. However, contrary to my usual view in southern Europe, the interior, which contains some strikingly beautiful columns, provides a better spectacle. Taken as a whole I preferred Ortygia at night and the jury was still out on Siracusa as I took a bus and then a walk to the entrance to the Parco Archeológico.

The jury did not stay out long, however. This is terrific and, for a person like me who has never been to Greece, it was truly magic. I do not mean to belittle the sights in Sicily by saying this. The Greek remains in Sicily are regarded by experts as being of top order. I did classics in the sixth form and I well remember the campaigns of Athens and Sparta and the importance of Sicily in general and Siracusa in particular, in the Peloponnesian War. The splendid and vast Greek theatre here dates back to the fifth century BC and I found it quite spellbinding. Near it were the old Latomie del Paradiso, quarries and later the prison for Athenian prisoners of war. Paradise indeed? Even in February the heat would have suggested a very different theological area, particularly for those who had to work in the quarries. Particularly outstanding in the view is the Orecchio di Dionissio [ear of Dionysus,] a large cavern well up the cliff. Not far away is the Roman Amphitheatre, which became so much used for blood sports that another smaller one had to be built back in the town for drama.

Siracusa would have repaid a longer visit.

David Cross was a keen walker, particularly on mountains before he developed serious heart problems in 1995. He has now adapted his holidays to what he is able to do and we are presenting his account of 12 days in Sicily over this and the coming months. Next episode – Agrigento