Flight from the Straits

Navy Training Ship in Syracuse Harbour

The time came to push on from Syracuse.  The stillness over the marina in the early morning was matched only by the strong winds and swell (not forecast of course!) outside the heads.  GS did well to rally but ensured the bucket was within arm’s length.  So we bashed and crashed our way north hoping that conditions would settle as we neared the protection of Italy’s big toe.  Let’s just say that not a lot of people were making this their chosen direction. 

Looking up & up at Taormina

Mt Etna, sultry in her cloud cover

After not much discussion and even less headway, we decided to call it quits and made for one of the few anchorages on this coast, Naxos, and set the hook in lovely sand (GS is SO over a glutinous, muddy anchor & chain) under the cliffs of famous Taormina.  Taormina perches high on the side of a cliff with amazing views over the Straits and some wonderfully green, if not steep, hilly, country.  We decided we didn’t need either another climb or to see more Baroque architecture (or churches) despite D.H. Lawrence having lived there, so our water view “up” would be just fine.  Besides that, we sat with an entrancing view of Mt Etna (possibly very clear because of the evil winds that day).  So we swam in quite cold waters and tried to eat a little after our bucketing ride – let’s just say waistlines are diminishing!

Charybdis in action

We left again in the early morning to escape the onset of strong winds and had a wonderful glide (under the iron horse) until we hit the Straits, where strong north-westerlies and an adverse current set up a challenging experience for "little” boats.  Cap’n Undertow skilfully guided us inshore (oh, so close) so we managed to lessen its effects; at one stage WJ3 was showing 7.3kts and only actually doing (speed over ground) 3.7kts.  We skirted Charybdis, watching the autopilot struggle against the pull from strong whirlpools & eddies and kept an eye on darting swordfishing boats.  

You can just see the man at the end of the very long bowspirit

Driver and lookouts at the crows nest

Driven like Grand Prix Maseratis – all speed and testosterone - these souped up and amazingly agile craft dash and dart after their quarry, sleeping swordfish.   Pity the swordfish that are skewered with a trident (possibly Neptune’s own) and any naïve tourist who potters in their path.  That of course was us!  Just as we thought we had escaped the worst of the rat race, we had a boat (at speed) on our clacker, just a tad too close for comfort.   An international incident (and broken boat) was averted but not before the high-riding skipper left us with a too close a bowsprit salute as a final reminder of who really owns these waters… 

Then it was on with more bashing into the wind – for several hours – to our next anchorage, Isola Vulcano.  Again, we were the only ones mad enough to keep up the grind.  Just on dusk, we settled into a very busy and exceptionally deep anchorage under the cloud capped and smoking rim of Vulcano.  The air is fragrant with the smell of sulphur gases and the bay rocks and rolls to the comings and goings of a vast number of commercial craft, but we didn’t care.  With the anchor set, we scoffed the last of our (almost hard tack) provisions and fell asleep, rocking in the swell, dreaming of the little whale (a pilot whale?) we saw heading for a tasty fish supper at the Straits.  “Watch out for those crazy men with harpoons!” GS had called in his wake.

Under smoking Isola Vulcano

Romancing the Food

Fresh tuna or swordfish steaks cut to order

We had arrived back to Syracuse in time for some seriously strong winds to blow through the area (forecast to 35 kts or more) and it was setting from the north west (Well hellooo, Mr Ponente!), the direction we were heading.  Needless to say, our stay in the marina was extended and we set about doing – yes, even more boat duties. 

One pleasurable activity however, was exploring the local fresh food markets.  Our Cap’n had been enviously watching nearby fishermen arrive with daily catches of squid, fish and huge swordfish.  Sicily’s central Med location clearly means it has a plentiful supply of fresh seafood.  It was available in abundance at the markets each day.  The Straits of Messina is the star location for swordfish and in a few days we would be negotiating this challenging waterway, with its heavy traffic, unruly currents and unique fishing boats.

The Italians clearly love their food and have a great respect for Fresh, so local daily markets are supported in droves; gawking tourists bumped out of the way so that locals can select the best at the best prices.  It is bad manners to touch the produce – the vendor will select for you.  The mushrooms I asked for were lovingly handled, potting mix still fresh on their stalks.  It was a moment to make any “wanna-be” foodie cry!  I felt honoured to be trusted additionally with rosy garlic bulbs and freshly dug potatoes. 

Further on, we could not help but buy some smoked mozzarella.  We were given strict instructions in how to refresh if after refrigeration and then serve it; chunks of cheese and a handful of sun-dried tomatoes, sprinkled with fresh parsley & mint, dressed with olive oil (only the best extra virgin) and a dash of lemon juice.  GS bought a pack and considered briefly whether she might live here.  Other tables bulged with oysters, ripe and tasty tomatoes, a variety of soft lettuce leaves (am I going on here?) and ready to eat fresh & tasty fruits.  Cherries and peaches are in season at the moment and are an absolute delight!

Our cooking and curry aromas wafted over the marina in the evenings, unfortunately attracting the wrong sort.  Ratus Romanus Gladitorii led a midnight raid breaking into the galley, making a b-line for the fresh bread – the only thing (or so we thought) not enclosed in plastic.  A few days later we discovered that he had also led a charge through the bowels of the boat to find the ground coffee, which apparently was not to his taste.  We’ve seen no sign of him since, so here’s hoping he’s retreated back to his fishing boat or portside residence for better quality feasting!

Despite the odd glitch (and not unreasonable demand for new galley equipment), you can see we are not starving…. Although I can just hear the Cap’n meditating, but I think he’s dreaming of legs of lamb, not reciting melodic mantras.  Hope he can wait the 6 hours it might take to cook it in our flagging oven! 

Riding the Rails

Given recent and exhausting dealings with public transport in Sicily, we mooted sightseeing options.  Closest was Noto, a hilltop village noted for its flamboyant Baroque architecture.   Trains left Syracuse; we could only hope they returned.

After a brisk walk to the station in the early morning heat, it was a welcome relief to note that a. there actually was a train; b. it was air-conditioned, and c. it almost left on time.  Our stop at Noto was at the bottom of the hill, needing a not-so-energetic but 15 minute climb.  Buses do not meet trains and not many travellers use trains.  It’s complicated and very Sicilian, or so it would seem.

Noto is a UNESCO World Heritage site, famous for its Baroque constructions.  An earlier town was destroyed in an earthquake (1693).  Architects of the time were keen to leave their mark and, I presume, families had sufficient means to accommodate this rebuilding.  Consequently, within a small and easily walkable area, it is possible to see palaces, convents, churches and mansions alike covered in the exuberant features that typify the Baroque style.

We arrived at the beautifully shaded Viale Marconi and in front of the Porta Ferdinandea, decided a coffee granita was the perfect way to start our tour.  From there, we followed our guide book’s walking tour, making our way through clearly planned streets, lots of stairs and ultimately into Palazzo Nicolaci Villadorata.  This was one of the few interiors open (other than churches), so we took a stroll through its lavish rooms, wondering if the chandeliers came from Venice…. 

Back down to the very deserted station, we sat on the rim of a crumbling fountain (no seating for passengers) in a garden full of weeds.  Once this would have been quite lovely – not anymore!  Despite our concerns, the train arrived on time.  We were still the only ones about, the Cap’n concerned we were going to be mugged.  No gunslingers from the OK Corrale showed up today; just a quick ride back to Syracuse, our travelling aspirations in Sicily more than fulfilled.

An Arrow's Flight

Day 4 – Going for Gozo

The Inland Sea, Gozo

We knew this was going to be a long, public transport day but we hoped to be able to cover a few of Gozo’s best sites.  Our journey at least had been eventful with the bus taking us up close again to Mosta Cathedral, a couple of very popular resort beaches, deserted craft villages and a picturesque crenelated Red Tower sitting high on Marfa Ridge.  The ferry took us past tiny Comino Island; it was easy to spot the Blue Lagoon’s brilliant turquoise waters on this sunny day. 

Perhaps just a little bigger than Dangar's ferry

Bustling Mgarr

We caught the bus at Gozo’s ferry port, Mgarr, and then changed at Victoria for Dwejra, famous for its panoramic, soaring cliffs and wave-like rock formation.  We walked out over fossil-strewn rocks to take photos of Fungus Rock and the Azure Window then headed down a dusty track to the Inland Sea, an almost enclosed lagoon, with a cave like opening and room enough to squeeze a small armada of tourist boats out to sea for stunning views along the coast.  The Maltese love their holiday huts and manage to squeeze large families into spaces smaller than a garage for summer fun.  The Inland Sea was no exception and hut occupants happily shared their tiny plot with cafes, ice-cream trucks, boat tour operators, divers, swimmers and loads of visitors in this less than private setting.  All in the sweltering sun.

Azure Window

Back in Victoria, we headed for the imposing and recently made-over Gran Castella.  Although smaller than Mdina’s commanding fortified city, its buildings, including the cathedral (1716) was no less impressive. 

We did though visit the Folklore Museum.  Set over 3 terraced noble’s homes, the museum contained items from everyday rural use and featured re-created rooms.  The houses themselves were fascinating labyrinths, no doubt designed to provide easy escape from enemies. 

Gozo was regularly and brutally attacked; once all of its people (6000) were taken into slavery.  Times were so tough that until 1673 laws enforced all citizens to stay at night within the Citadella’s walls.  Interestingly, we were also told that street lengths were only as long as an arrow’s flight.

A beautifully restored Gran Castella

Inner Courtyard, Noble's House

We made our way through the Norman ruins (12^th c & yet to be restored), to find the Old Prison.  A friendly staffer told us what to look for around the rooms and gave us a potted history of its activities.  Even the most famous of the Grand Masters spent a little time here.  I wonder if he was one of the many occupants who left their mark engraved into the soft stone walls in these tiny, claustrophobic cells?  We would have been counting the days to freedom too!

It was bang on 3.30pm when we left Victoria, Gozo and I suspect we managed to find the all stops bus back to the ferry port.  Four slow Sunday hours later, we arrived at our hotel, with just time to catch our breath before dinner, yet again down at the Kalkara dock.  The European Cup Final was on and luckily, we had reserved a table.  Go, Portugal!!! 

The early, early start the next morning for the first ferry back to Sicily was a rude shock but at least we found seats at the front for a last gaze over Valletta.  Needless to say, our feet touched the dock in Pozzallo at nine, just 5 minutes after the train had left for Syracuse.  The next direct bus wasn’t until 3pm & the train at 3.40 – all expertly coordinated no doubt, to leave before the arrival of the next ferry.  For sanity’s sake, we forked out yet another €80 of our rapidly diminishing travel funds for a taxi.  God is most certainly on the side of the Sicilians....  Either that, or they learned their expert bargaining skills from Egyptians traders many years ago.

Elvis Plays the Crystal Palace

Day 3 – Ancient Capitals



On Saturday morning in Valetta, we were finally able to squeeze into St John’s Cathedral, a froth of gold and silver, expressive marble statues and brilliant coloured art works. This could be described as nothing less than typical Baroque exuberance. 

The special, special treat however was seeing in the flesh, two of Caravaggio’s masterpieces – the lustrous and emotive “The Beheading of John the Baptist” (1608) and subdued “St Jerome”.  (No pictures were allowed.)  Although Caravaggio was initially granted a Knighthood, his many misdemeanours caught up with him, and despite his artistic talent, he was eventually expelled from the Order. 

St John the Baptist is the patron saint of the Knights of Malta.

A Grand Master's Tomb

Floor Inlay

From Valletta, we bussed out to central Malta with intentions of visiting Rabat, Mdina and the Mosta Dome.  We eventually realised that visiting churches is off limits from Saturday afternoon until Monday mornings unless you are part of the congregation, so sadly missed seeing the famous Mosta Church Dome, a most unusually shaped church with its miraculous WWII experience.   

 

In Rabat, we easily found the Domus Romana Museum and villa remains.  Located directly opposite the bus terminus in Rabat, this small but interesting museum was our chance to see something of Malta’s time under Roman rule.  The Domus Romana was once a luxurious villa and the fine collection unearthed from the site gives an understanding of the lavish lifestyle led by its occupants.

 


Rabat also has a strong connection with early Christianity. St Paul, following his shipwreck off the coast of Malta in 60 AD, is said to have lived in a nearby grotto.  We managed to find St Paul’s catacombs, an ancient complex of burial chambers hewn out from soft rock.  The grounds were well signposted and supported with information on the central role these tombs played when Christians were persecuted by their Roman masters.

Is there a Saint David?

St Paul's Catacombs

Our tracks took us through the backstreets of small town Rabat.  A large but discreet crowd gathered at the town square to farewell an obviously respected community member.  Others lingered outside the Crystal Palace, just one of the many seedy village bars that seem to attracted older men for an afternoon chat and drink with friends.  Elvis tunes drifted over quiet evening streets.  “Look!” whispered the Cap’n, “That bloke looks just like Elvis.”  Had we indeed discovered the King’s secret hideaway?  Elvis was, quite naturally, camera shy...

 

With closing time of many sites & museums fast approaching we could only peer through the gates at the Mdina Citadel, Malta’s ancient capital, briefly. 

We had decided on skipping it, and the many and outlying temple sites (admission is included in the Heritage Pass but it is far better to travel by car than bus), and instead make our last day an excursion to Gozo Island.  There in Victoria, we would find another, and suitably impressive, Gran Castello to explore. 

Simply put, you can't do it all!
 

Cannon Fodder

Day 2 – Il Burgu

Collachio still has a few bargain buys!

Burgu Piazza

The eastern shore of Grand Harbour is made up of three slim fingers, L-Isla, Il Burgu and Il Kalkara. These fort & defensive wall covered enclaves are known as the Three Cities.  Il Burgu held the most interest for us as it was here that the Knights first built their auberges (inns) when they arrived on Malta.  This district, Collachio, is now quiet and rather charming, with narrow cobbled streets and well cared for homes.  After prowling through the area for a bit, our next stop was the Inquisitors Palace.

Chapel Inquisitors Palace

Fine marble staircase

Beautifully carved pulpit

Following the Great Siege, the Knights apparently “relaxed” a little - well, a bit too much for Rome anyway.  The Pope despatched an Inquisitor to bring the Order back into line.  Needless to say, the Inquisitors Palace was rather luxurious for those who sat in judgement, but we all know the story of the hundreds of years of the Inquisition.  This delightful Palace with its pleasant courtyard garden also served as the court and jail for naughty Knights. 



The Naval Museum looks like fun....

St George also featured

After the horrors of the Inquisitors, it was time to check out a British bakery.  In the 19^th c, the British constructed a warehouse on Il Burgu’s waterfront to make and supply bread for its forces.  The Naval Museum is now proudly housed here.  Although GS was initially disconcerted by banks of engines and displays of tools, it turned out to be a very interesting record of Malta’s seafaring traditions. Bread and minestrone featured on the provisioning list, even for slaves. 

Knights of St John also had a serious fleet (Naval Museum)

 

Fort St Angelo to the left, Super yachts to the right...
But this view is taken from where the Mega yachts languish in splendour 

Further along the seafront (beyond the chandlery we just had to visit and the expensive Camper & Nicholson Marina opened by HRH no less) lies the imposing Fort St Angelo.  Despite no indication to the contrary, it is NOT open to the public.  We were unceremoniously waved away. 

Fort St Angelo was home to the Grand Master until the island’s capital, Valletta, was constructed.  No checking for the "pit" deep underground where naughty Knights spent time in reflection then!

Many of the old mansions had expressive faces carved onto their soft stone walls.  This one (left) is hard to see as he was high up on a second storey but we're sure he's telling us to mind our manners or we'll be on a slippery slope to a fiery place. Just like naughty Knights....




Burgu Waterfront 

With time to spare, we headed back into Valletta to take in the Archaeology Museum and its astounding collection of artefacts from 5000 years ago.  The display was well set out, showing some amazing discoveries found across Malta.  The famous Hal-Saflieni Hypogeum (4000 – 2500 BC & no, that’s not too many zeros!) allows only 80 visitors a day, so forget short notice visitors like us.  Also, during this peak season it was closed (?) for ongoing restoration, so the Museum was our only hope of finding out more about this amazing Neolithic construction and civilization.

The Sleeping Lady - from Malta's ancient temples

The Archaeology Museum is housed in an impressive Palace too!

We again sat down by the dock in the evening watching locals busily setting up for a very important religious festival and listening to the nightly ritual (and early morning too) of cannon fire echoing around the harbour. 

Getting ready for an important festival