and so it began. (or, Sicily, Part 1: Catania and Etna.)

My dears, I have been dreaming of Sicily for at least 10 years, and in early April, we finally went. Just as I suspected, Sicily is full of magic. And really, really good food. And amazing history, and brilliant vistas, and lovely people, and warm, sunny weather, and I didn't want to leave. Sicily has been occupied by just about everyone under the Mediterranean sun (as in, Carthaginians/Phoenicians, various Greek factions, Romans, Vandals, Ostrogoths, Byzantines, Arab and Spanish Muslims, Normans, Swabians, the French, Aragonese Spanish, Austria, the Bourbons, and, finally, Italy itself) with the result that its history and language and food have this incredible combination of influences and richness. Historically, culinarily, and architecturally speaking, it's right up my alley.

We began our epic eastern-Sicily adventure* in Catania, the center of which, despite its rather grungy reputation, is shockingly gorgeous. But first things first: a most-of-the-day tour around magnificent, looming Etna and the picturesque Alcantara gorge. (Our guide was a talkative, super-multi-lingual man named Francesco, who was an utter and absolute delight and knew pretty much everything there was to know about Etna and Alcantara and environs. And was really good at including everyone in our tour group, which consisted of a German couple, a French family, and us Americans. And kept calling everyone under the age of 20 "kiddies," heh. Francesco was fantastic and awesome.)

First stop: this lava flow from 1950, which looked like a highway coming down the mountainside.

Second stop: another lava field from which we had an incredible view (...once the clouds had temporarily blown away, anyway) of the active vents at the top of Etna. ("We like it when we she's active," said Francesco [who always referred to the volcano with the feminine pronoun] because when you can see the venting, you know the pressure underground is being released. Francesco was quite fond, and rather proud, of the volcano. It was wholly endearing.)

Next, we descended into a lava cave, which formed naturally, but was expanded and altered in the late 18th century by workers in the ice trade. In the wintertime, they'd push snow into the cave (in addition to what accumulated there naturally) through man-made holes in the roof, then haul it out and sell it as ice during the summertime.**  

The view from lunch at Piano Provenzana, a ski resort wiped out by lava flows in 2002 and still in the process of rebuilding. (The darker smoke means more activity, according to Francesco.) (Lunch, which was included, but of which I'd been rather skeptical, turned out to be an impressive spread of Sicilian appetizers, a plate of amazing pasta alla Norma, and this delicious ricotta-lemon pie for dessert.) 

Our final stop was Alcantara gorge, whose name comes from the Arabic word for "bridge," referring to a Roman bridge discovered here by the island's Muslim conquerors!

The crazy shapes here were (most likely) created when a lava flow from Etna blocked the course of the Alcantara river, the water from which caused the flow to cool rapidly and to crystallize thusly. And then the river's course carved down into the flow, creating the gorge itself.

This geology is So. Neat.***

After a lovely drive back into Catania through ubiquitous citrus groves and emerald-green hills and past Norman castle towers and ancient basilicas (yes, it really is that romantic), we bid a sad farewell to Francesco, cleaned ourselves up a bit, and headed towards the harbor for some dinner at the trendy-but-fantastic little restaurant Cutilisci. We started with a couple of types of bruschetta--one with lemon ricotta and anchovies (my favorite of the two), and one with broccoli cream, sun-dried tomatoes, and almonds (Mike's)--and then Mike had a pizza with prosciutto, mozzarella, eggs, basil, oregano, and an absolutely perfect tomato sauce, and I had a plate of grilled octopus on rosemary lentil puree with a wee pie made of anchovies filled with greens and cheese and topped with breadcrumbs. (All ingredients local and organic, as far as possible--and VERY tasty.) 

Day two in Catania began with a walk through the lovely Giardino Bellini to get to Savia, a Catania institution famed for its granita and pastries.

We may have gone a bit overboard. That's cappuccinos, an almond granita and brioche, two arancini (one filled with ragu, the other Catanese-style with rice, cheese, herbs, and eggplant), and--what else would one have for breakfast in Sicily??--a cannolo. 

So, so good.

After breakfast, we headed towards the center of the city to get a look at its sprinkling of Roman ruins and the cathedral.

I don't know if downtown Catania is always this festive, or if it was because Easter was approaching, but the little side streets off of Via Etnea were packed with little craft markets. Swoon.

Took a quick lap around the Roman amphitheater ruins at Piazza Stesicoro...

...which are only partially excavated, but impressive nonetheless. (And also, as we've seen in a handful of other urban ruins, function as a cat sanctuary. Yesssss.)

Towards the duomo and its eponymous piazza, Via Etnea becomes entirely pedestrian and gets prettier and prettier.

The gorgeous little Basilica della Collegiata. Want to live on this little square, it's so so so pretty...

...and finally to Piazza Duomo. (Duomo on left.)

Also in this piazza is "Liotru," the famous elephant fountain, which turns out to be way more interesting than I thought. The fountain was assembled in 1737 as a symbol of hope and rebuilding after the catastrophic earthquake of 1693,**** but the lava-rock (of course) elephant itself is much older, possibly even Roman in origin, and has been reassembled and restored numerous times. The elephant has been the city's symbol since 1239, although the city was called "the city of the elephant" as far back as the Arab occupation, around the year 900. The obelisk is ancient Egyptian, probably from the modern-day Aswan area, and was probably brought to Catania during the crusades. There's all manner of other symbolism on this fountain, of course, but for me, the ancient bits are by far the most fascinating.

That doesn't stop Liotru's pupiless eyes and weird smile from being genuinely creepy, though...

Then, we took a quick spin through the cathedral, which was packed with people and was closing after morning services.

The interior is rather spartan, at first blush...

...but contains such interesting tidbits as reused Roman columns and tantalizing bits of exposed frescoes...

...the final resting place of the composer Bellini...

...and, exposed in a few places in the floor, the footings from columns used in the original Norman construction of the place in around 1093. (By Roger I of Sicily. Yes. His name was Roger.)

Back outside, we discovered that underneath the cathedral--and accessed by a stairway right next to the main entrance--there was a Roman bath complex that one could visit. So we did. 

The Terme Achilliane were probably built around the 2nd or 3rd century AD, and were quite extensive, but were only rediscovered in 1693 after the aforementioned earthquake. The part you can visit is actually quite small, but very cool.

I completely missed this at first, but what I dismissed as random patterns in the stucco on the ceiling turned out to be cherubs and garlands and vines, oh my. And suddenly I saw them everywhere. Here, the best-preserved cherub.

Next, we headed over to Castello Ursino, a 13th-century castle containing the Museo Civico.

This thing was originally built on a bit of land high enough to overlook both the sea and the city center, but lava from an eruption in 1669 flowed around it and essentially leveled the ground it sat on, significantly decreasing its military value. Surprisingly, it's been in more-or-less constant use since its construction, although it had to be restored in 1934 (yep, during the Fascist era). Since then, it's been a museum, and today, it houses collections "Medieval, Renaissance, and Modern." A few selected items:

Vaulting in the main entrance hall.

From the Terme Achilliane, this massive Greek inscription in which the baths' original name was discovered.

Fragment of the 14th-century gravestone of Eleanor of Anjou, queen consort of Sicily from 1302 until her husband's death in 1337.

There was also a collection of 19th-century works by the Catanian artist Michele Rapisardi, which I thought were particularly beautiful. (This one is "Impeded Love," from 1872. Ugh. Given my love of Art Nouveau/Liberty, my predilection for pre-Raphaelite-style painters is just so predictable.)

Here, a page from Rapisardi's sketchbook. I'm always very drawn to things like this [pun not intended, but awesome], as they're so very personal. (Apologies for the terrible foreshortening, but this was behind glass, and avoiding a glare was nearly impossible.)

Surreally enough, on the topmost floor of the castle was an Andy Warhol exhibition. (So many soup cans, sheesh.) My favorite part of that was actually these glitter-covered tribute pieces by other artists. So, so sparkly!

At some point, the castle was also been used as a prison; here, prisoners' graffiti in the central courtyard.

Post-castle, we took a meandering walk back through the city towards our hotel. Catania, friends, was, for me, impossibly full of unexpected beauty. I absolutely loved it.

And that volcano is omnipresent. I kinda love that, too.

Back at our hotel, we jumped into our wee rental--full props to Mike here for being willing to drive in this city, where there are a ton of blind intersections but few stoplights, even fewer street signs, and brassy drivers who aren't stopping for you or anybody--and headed up the coast to Taormina, which, despite being both small and full of tourists, was entirely worth the visit.








*As it turns out, there's just way too much to see and do and eat on that island, and I figure you'd need at least 2 weeks there and a break-neck pace to really fit everything in. So we confined ourselves to the eastern third-ish of the island, and still didn't check off everything on my list. Would definitely go back, and just to the same places!

**There's a painting from 1782, by Jean Houel, showing the ice workers removing ice from this very cave. Unless this cave has gotten far shallower over time, the perspective's a little wonky... But still, neat.

*** Yes, I know it's like the Giant's Causeway, but I've never been to the Giant's Causeway. So there.

****That earthquake is the reason most of the architecture in eastern Sicily is from the Baroque period and not much older than 1700. Anything older than that and still standing is something of a rarity on the island, and/or a testament to the sturdiness of its construction!