Tuesday 14 May - A more peaceful sleep this time. We showered, packed, had breakfast, then checked out. As the Avis office was not more than a kilometre away, we decided to walk there. I gave silent thanks more than once for our downsized bags as we tackled the high curbs, tightly parked cars, and yet more piles of rubbish along the way. Possibly we could have caught a taxi but I had read a review describing Sicilian taxi drivers as money sucking vampires, to be avoided at all costs.
We arrived at the Avis office at 9.45am. There was a queue out the door and it was going to be a test in patience to be sure. As Michael stood in line, I watched over our bags outside the office, indulging in a few discreet yoga standing postures to while away the time. An hour later, we were installed in an auto Renault hatchback, complete with gps in English.
To say navigating our way out of the city was fraught with difficulty and danger is an understatement. Driving on the right hand side of the road for a start is scary, even for a passenger, which of course I was. There were no verbal instructions from the gps, only the directional arrows and remaining kilometres and metres so I became the voice of said gps. As we were being directed this way and that, the rear vision mirror decided to fall off. Not a great start but we laughed, even if a bit hysterically. After about 20 kms, I managed to slide it back on to the windscreen and eventually Michael managed to manoeuvre his way onto the Autostrada.
The Autostrada is a four lane highway which runs from Palermo all the way to Capo D’Orlando and beyond. It travels though the mountains by way of tunnels, varying in length from a couple of hundred metres to 2 kilometres or more. Some are well lit, others not so much. The speed limit varies from 50kph to 130kph. Italian drivers are obviously used to these conditions and hurtle along, lane hopping, seemingly travelling at twice the speed limit. Further along the coast towards Capo D’Orlando, the highway becomes two lanes, even more scary, as cars pass on blind corners at top speed. I kept squealing, convinced that if i put my hand out the window, I could touch the mountainous slopes while Michael was trying to avoid the cars coming the other way. We were about 10 kms from Capo D’Orlando when we misinterpreted the gps and ended up in chaos. The gps tried to get us back on track by means of a tight turn to the right in a very narrow one way street. Up ahead was a truck loaded with scaffolding, which was in the process of being erected against a building on our right. The driver took his time but eventually moved the truck forward so we could turn left. It took a lot of backwards and forwards to inch into the space without taking out the scaffolding. Finally we were out and, ignoring the gps, headed for the main road which thankfully was visible. Very stressful but hats off to Michael for keeping his cool with the car and me.
Once in Capo D’Orlando, the drama wasn’t over yet. There appeared to be no parking spaces left along the whole of the beach front, where our apartment was situated.So many one way streets! Finally we drove around the back of the beach front and found one parking bay. We decided that the car could stay where it was and we would just walk to the apartment, where-ever it was. Our luck changed for the better, as the apartment was just 50 metres ahead of us.
The apartment was still in the process of being cleaned so we unloaded our bags and headed straight to the nearest bar, about 30 metres along the promenade.
After a couple of beers and sharing a panini, we found a supermarket and bought a few supplies, like cheese, ham, butter, bread, milk and tomatoes. The cleaner was still hard at it, cleaning the front verandah area. On the journey from Palermo, I had spoken to Frederico, the owner of the apartment. He told me that people were checking out that day and it would take time to clean. However, judging by the amount of dust on the cleaner’s cloth as she wiped down the outside table, it hadn’t been used in quite a while. The apartment was comfortable though, if a little quirky. The pine ceiling was extremely high. The only internal walls surrounded the bathroom and toilet but did not meet the ceiling. The cutlery drawer was hidden within another drawer. The cleaner had to show us that one.
We unloaded our bags and groceries while she was still there. I asked her if there was an iron. She looked, as I already had, but couldn’t find one. I asked her if we had wifi. No wifi. Frederico had also given us his uncle Giancarlo’s phone number as he managed the property. When we couldn’t find a kettle, we tried phoning Giancarlo but the phone kept cutting out. The cleaner said he lived only a couple of houses back and she went to see him. She came back and told us he would come later in the evening.
We waited for a while but in the end decided to head out for dinner. We went a whole 50 metres this time, to the Mulino Hotel. Apart from a very old man, we were the only people in the dining room. Michael ordered spaghetti, which was al denté but very salty. I thought I ordered scallops but it turned out to be veal scallopini. Obviously something was lost in the translation. It was tasty though.
Eventually we meandered back to the apartment. There was no evidence that Uncle Giancarlo had been to visit. We watched a bit of Italian tv, then hit the sack, fairly tired after a mentally taxing day.
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