Sicilian holiday - September 2008
In September 2008 we went on a week-long holiday to Sicily with Thomson Holidays, staying at the Arathena Rocks Hotel in Giardini Naxos. The following notes were tapped into Ian’s mobile phone during the holiday.
See Photos: 2008 Sicily for all the pictures from the holiday.
Friday 12th
Left work pronto at 1300 and zoomed over to Gatwick in the Scoob. Arrived at the Mercure at about 1600 to find the car park more like a field for cars at a very wet Glastonbury: Colin McRae would have felt at home. Unloaded at the door of the hotel (met by Andrea). Fortunately another guest was leaving and I was able to nab his parking slot on one of the few bits of tarmac.
Ate at the hotel - good but expensive (Ian had pleasantly peppery steak). Didn't sleep too well because of the plywood-topped jelly-filled wobble bed.
Saturday 13th
Went in to London on the train, on which we had a mediocre breakfast of croissant and coffee. Lunch at Yo Sushis and dinner at Le Garratt (very good).
Andrea did her pilgrimage to the Mephisto shop and bought shoes, I went on an unsuccessful trip to buy an army surplus jacket from a Notting Hill shop ('Oh! The M65 does suit you, Sir') - I should have known it was more fashion and less surplus by the lack of odours of mildew and old army farts.
We also failed to find the Obama supporters at the Millennium Bridge - Andrea was expecting a frenzied crowd of thousands; a reread of the Obama supporters website (thank heaven for mobile web) revealed that the number expected to attend was significantly less than even George W's IQ. So we ran away.
We-being card-carrying Steve Job's supporters-visited the Apple store and ogled at iPod nanos and MacBook Airs. Also went to Austin Reeds, but nothing interesting there, just a load of clothes.
Returned to the Mercure for Andrea to email a review of a proposal to a funding body - her dedication to science is very touching.
Sunday 14th
Sat in front of the Darlings on the plane ("Would you like another glass of Champaign, darling?", "Yes, please darling! Which tedious whinging monologue would you like to hear now, darling?").
Bus and taxi took us to the off-the-beaten-track Arathena Rocks hotel. Had a superb, very violent thunder storm, during which the hotel was struck by lightning, (luckily) missing a guest and the pool-cleaning man, and (unluckily) blowing up the water pump of the swimming pool.
Good Italian duodinner; Ian - dinner 1: lasagne; dinner 2: chicken. Superb nights sleep on a firm but comfortable bed.
Monday 15th
Walked into town and had very good pizza lunch at open air restaurant near to the sea front. Back to hotel for afternoon sleep and bath (hoorah - shower hose for our very narrow bath now fixed), followed by a session by the pool (still empty) reading book. Driven in by flying ants.
Usual pre-dinner beer and crosswords. Dinner is good but not as good as yesterday's. It was tagliatelli and veal - the usual double dinner; much more of this and I shall be unable to take a bath for fear of wedging myself permanently in it. Retire to bed after two poor quality glasses of wine and further insect barrage.
Tuesday 16th
Managed to see shops and amphitheatre before the assault of the cruise tourists.
Returned to Naxos and had lunch at the same restaurant as before (Ian had salami pizza and Andrea had Dredgers Delight pizza, comprising a pizza base with squid, octopus, shrimp, cod, haddock, etc. piled on the top). Hotel pool now half full - electric pump fixed and pumping sea water as fast as it can - so sit by it reading and sleeping. Accidentally devise wind-triggered water bomb to wet Andrea's bottom. Highly successful, highly amusing.
Wednesday 17th
Pleasant light lunch of pasta at the hotel, and then off we go on the trip to Etna. The first part of the trip consists of about an hour on a bus and then coffee and walking around prodding bits of cold lava and trying to avoid the Darlings (groan), who do not seem to have improved over the last few days they have been out of our sight.
We then board 4x4 lorry-buses (losses? burrys?) and proceed higher up Etna, holding on grimly to the handrails because of the surprisingly low coefficient of friction between our trousers and the bus benches, benches which have been polished to a high sheen by scores of greasy tourist bottoms. There are several stops to trudge up crater edges and peer at dimly glowing distant lava beds. During this time the sun sets and the temperature drops from bracing to extremely freddo (as the Italians would say). Hayward and Russell are, as usual, fully prepared for this, wearing hiking boots, fleeces, woolly jumpers, and hats, and smugly smirk at the flip-flops-and-shorts brigade.
When a predetermined (large) fraction of the group is teetering on the edge of frostbite, our exceedingly good guide zooms us off for our dinner at a local restaurant. Ian, moving rapidly, manages to snaffle seats at a four-seater table half occupied by a pair of pleasant Welsh bauxite smelters and thus saves Ian and Andrea having to share a table with the insufferable Darlings. After an agreeable meal we are deposited back at the hotel. We down a couple of Margueritas and listen to the one-man-schmooze-music-band and then retire to bed.
Thursday 18th
One way to avoid the massage ladies (and the sellers of garish towels) is to take refuge in the sea. Ian dons his prescription goggles and, in a blaze of white skin, enters the sea, closely followed by Andrea. The sea is cool but not too cold for comfort and very clear, allowing the viewing of small fish etc. Very enjoyable.
Another notable thing about the beach was the large number of Irish present, and one in particular, a large woman (in pod) who appeared to have been bludgeoned with the Blarney Stone when young. Her voice droned on and on but, like the sound of waves lapping on the shore, contained very little information content.
Lunch consisted of the usual pizza and usual beer at the usual restaurant. We followed this with further toasting on the beach, before returning to the hotel for baths and dinner. Our head waiter at dinner, Angelo, is, as far as I can tell, Tommy Cooper's long lost Italian brother. His notes to the other staff detailing our orders seem to enable an exciting mix of improvisation and guesswork. Fortunately this is Italy rather than India, where such a game of culinary Russian roulette would most likely end in a large bill for the laundering of underwear. Notwithstanding this, it was an excellent meal of the usual stupendous helpings. For Ian: risotto, bangers and mash (I kid you not), and ice-cream, washed down with the local Myle wine. The latter gave plenty of opportunity for some of Ian's side-splitting joshes ("If we finish this in the next ten minutes we will be averaging one myle per hour"): yep, Andrea really does have a lot of fun on holiday.
Friday 19th
Today we go to Catania on the bus. We had been planning to go to Syracuse on the train, but a five hour round trip seemed a bit much. So instead we opted for 50 minute bus to Catania; specifically the 1100 bus departure from Naxos to Catania.
The bus 'station' in Naxos comprises a kiosk and a single bus stop; these provide very limited entertainment, so we scouted round the hotels at which we could have stayed and rapidly concluded that Andrea had done very well choosing the Arathena Rocks.
The bus station at Catania is very much larger than that at Naxos, and lived down to our expectations: it was nasty and in a very grubby part of town. Things improved as we walked towards the city centre, but not by as much as we had hoped. Catania was heavily bombed in 1943 (presumably by Monty and his chums before they reached it, or by Patton and his chums after Monty reached it) and much of the architecture compensates for ugliness with large amounts of concrete. We had lunch (Ian consuming yet another pizza in his drive to make up for seven year's of gluten-free living) and then mooched round some uninspiring shops. We both came to the conclusion that the best move was to down a large beer each and then leg it to the bus station and get the 1600 departure back to Naxos. The down-a-large-beer part worked well, but the get-the-1600-departure part proved more difficult as we ran around trying to find the correct bus. We made the bus with seconds to spare and waved Catania a cheery goodbye.
Had another good evening at the hotel, consisting of the usual crossword puzzles (over a marguerita and a beer), dinner (pasta arrabiata followed by chicken, over a bottle of white Sicilian wine), chatting at the poolside (over another two marguerita's). Retired relatively late, and a little tiddly.
Saturday 20th
Our approach to Taormina was different to the one we took on Tuesday; this time from the north rather than from the south, and it is a much more interesting route.
Once there we decided to climb up the steps to the castle. This was quite hard work and a bit monotonous despite the presence of uniformly spaced 'stations of the cross' statues (rather poor renditions of some guy lugging wooden beams around). We made it to the top only to find the entrance to the castle chained shut. Unfortunately the nearby tourist tat sales kiosk only sold t-shirts and ceramics: no bolt-croppers to be seen anywhere. So we trudged back down.
Once back in civilisation we stayed off the main tourist streets as much as possible and explored some of the tiny shops, purchasing a t-shirt for Ian and two rather spiffy hats to keep Andrea's head warm on the way to work.
Lunch was a very good pizza (Ian) and yummy moule (Andrea) at 'The Red Shrimp'. Two older British women at the next table provided entertainment. They had military-wives' voices, said phrases like 'jolly good show', and furtively topped up their tonic with gin whenever the waitress was out of sight. It was like a live female version of the chap in the Fast Show who was, of course, 'very very drunk'.
We returned to the Arathena Rocks hotel and sunned ourselves by the pool before summoning enough courage to go for a swim in it. Quite nippy, but OK once you got going. Ian, equipped with his prescription goggles, was able to spot an almost entirely shell-less hard-boiled egg at the bottom of the pool. Ian tried to retrieve it but found his subaqua skills too limited to be successful. Ian felt a strong bond of friendship with the egg for it was, in many ways, quite like him; blinding white on the outside (apart from a few brown bits), often malodorous, distinctly heavier than water, and of a very rounded shape (that is what a week on the pizza, pasta, and beer diet does for you).
We went out onto the lava rocks between the hotel and the sea and stood for a few minutes gazing at the sky and looking at our watches. Then, as predicted by the NASA website, the International Space Station pootled across the sky for us, less than 300 miles away. The two spods then joined the other diners for another good dinner (this time bean soup followed by veal).
Sunday 21st
Our final day in Sicily. After packing we had one last snooze by the pool, then were collected by the minibus for the trip to the airport.
As we checked in I noticed with horror that the Darlings were checking in too. Oh no! they might be sitting behind us again on the flight!
Later, as we were all boarding the plane, Andrea noted cheerfully that another, quiet-looking, couple were seated behind us. No sign of the Darlings anywhere. Then, at the last moment, they came up the aisle and plonked themselves in front of us. However it turned out that sound doesn’t carry backwards in a plane as well as forwards, but they were very well behaved, so we had an enjoyable flight.
Once back at the Mercure, we collected the car and, checking nervously that the Darlings weren’t sitting in the back seat, headed off home to Munday Cottage.