Wednesday 15 May - Although rain was forecast, the morning dawned in a sunny fashion so we went for a long walk along the sea front. There was a teasing turbulence about the Mediterranean, waves rearing up close to shore, then sedately washing on to the pebbled beaches. We enjoyed the stunning vista along the way, but for a time had to concentrate on walking the narrow pathway along the road. There was only a low wall between us and volcanic rocks which plummeted to this section of thrashing sea below. Michael likened it to a washing machine and claimed the whole terrifying aspect made his sphincter quiver uncontrollably (his exact words). As we drew closer to the marina around the eastern point of Capo D’Orlando, the sea was gentler, looking infinitely more swimmable. Not that we saw anyone in the briny blue. The whole stretch of coastline had that pre-season air, ready to shake off it’s winter coat but not quite ready for the summer hordes that apparently invade this holiday destination. Restaurants and cafés dotting the coastline were, at best, opening during the middle of the day for lunch. Others were still locked up, while some were being renovated and/or repaired.
Back at the apartment, we cooked breakfast, consisting of eggs, tomato and spec. There was no toaster so I singed bread over the open gas flame. A cup of tea with boiled water from the billy and our meal was complete.
Michael made the brave decision to drive us to Sinagra, a little town about 20 kms inland. We had no problem navigating with our mute gps although driving the tight, winding roads was hair-raising, with cars passing us at speed, over bold white lines, and around blind corners. “At least you have the rear vision mirror this time” I joked. A second later it fell off. Another slightly worrying event was the appearance of a fault light on the dash during our short journey. I consulted the manual but of course, a bit tricky when in Italian. We had parked by this stage and decided to worry about it later.
A friend from Albany, Al Fasolo, was born in Sinagra. It is a picturesque little town nestled into the surrounding hills, complete with cascading waterfall, babbling brook, and ruins of a castle dating back to the Byzantine era. Late in the 16th century, due to an earthquake, the reigning feudal lord of the period feared for his life and abandoned the castle for safer ground. Since that time, it has been left derelict. Another interesting feature of Sinagra was the inordinate amount of elderly gentlemen gathered together in varying numbers, engaged in animated conservation, while taking their morning espresso. One such gentleman (see photo attached) thought he knew Michael and launched himself upon us, vigorously shaking Michael’s hand. Obviously it was a case of mistaken identity and no-one could understand the other but it was a lovely exchange with lots of laughing all round.
After having a coffee in the main Street, and strolling about, looking at the above mentioned sights, we returned to the car and decided to check the oil, just in case. Michael opened the bonnet and then we proceeded to look for the dipstick. It was nowhere to be seen. At this point, our old, new amico wandered over and ascertained what we were looking for. While I tried checking the manual again (?), they eventually worked out where it was. Oil level was ok, tyres appeared to be pumped up, so after saying arriva derci to our Sinagrian friend again, we set off for Capo D’Orlando once more and hoped for the best.
We made it safely back to the apartment, read our books, watched a John Wayne film dubbed in Italian and then headed into town around 7pm to find a restaurant. It appeared we were a bit early for dinner so we wandered around for a while before finding an establishment which was actually open for business. The Uletta restaurant had a covered outdoor area, where we chose to sit. Our young waiter Andrea was friendly, attentive and he also spoke good English which was a bonus for us. Michael ordered a pizza and I had gnocchi with swordfish and a side dish of vegetables, plus we polished off a bottle of fine Sicilian red wine. By this time, it had commenced to rain in earnest. I ended up positioning my chair between two tiny leaks in the roof. At this point, Michael engaged in conversation with the two lads seated next to us, obviously Australian. It turned out they were from Perth, on a two month Italian holiday.
The rain steadily fell as we sat there, sipping our wine. I half jokingly suggested to Andrea that he might sell us an umbrella. He laughed and said they would be happy to lend us an umbrella to get back. Then the maître d’ came over and said that someone would drive us back. This was above and beyond the normal service offered in the hospitality industry and we were very grateful for the offer. However, we decided to have dessert and attempt to wait out the rain. We shared a little flan with warm caramel in the centre, marooned in a sea of white and milk chocolate sauce, and accompanied by hazelnut ice cream. It was so delicious, right down to the last drop of chocolate. By this time it had actually stopped raining, so we bade these wonderful people buona notte and walked back to the apartment replete and content.
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