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