by Neil Matthews
The message on the answerphone was ominous. "Intourist have rung about your holiday. Please call us." The group who were due to accompany us to Moscow and St. Petersburg had cancelled their booking and the trip was off. The option to spend more money on the same itinerary via dearer hotels did not appeal. A thought occurred; what about Sicily -a new area of Italy to explore, with the promise of good food, fine weather and all the other Italian virtues? Sicily it was, then - and specifically Taormina.
Taormina is on the east coast of the island, halfway between Messina in the north-east (just across from mainland Italy) and Catania, the island's main airport. Taormina is Sicily's most famous resort and it exists at least as much for the tourist as for the locals. It clings to hilltops overlooking the Mediterranean, like many Italian towns. It boasts clean, uncluttered beaches, also like many Italian towns. In addition, the stylish main street, Corso Umberto, encourages visitors to shop until their bank balance drops on clothing, pottery and souvenirs. But Taormina has three special features, which set it apart... a volcano, a theatre and some very pretty gardens.
The closeness of Mount Etna cannot help but cast a shadow over the immediate area. There have been no recent eruptions, but the best way to see this phenomenon is definitely from some distance away, lending not only enchantment but greater safety to the view. In some ways, despite its grotesqueness, Etna is a reminder of reality in a location at least semi-detached from that state.
There is no better place to see Etna than from the Greek theatre on the far side of the town, set into a hill. The sea, volcano and other mountains and rocks make an incredible backdrop for the theatre, which could apparently hold almost 10,000 people. It's hard to see how any drama could compete with such natural beauty. The Romans tried to improve upon nature by encasing the theatre in brick - an act of philistine clumsiness.
A less historic, but more tranquil location, is the Villa Communale, a large set of gardens cultivated by Florence Trevelyan, an Englishwoman who married a local and settled in the town earlier in this century. She bequeathed the gardens to the town so that everyone might enjoy them. Children play, the budgies and lovebirds in the aviary chirp and other visitors sip their drinks in the bar while looking at the sea, the volcano, the orange and lemon trees and the many other exotic varieties of plant life.
Taormina is only one side of a multifaceted story. Further south, but still on the east coast, lies Syracuse, founded as a Greek colony. This city was, at its zenith, one of the most powerful in the ancient world. With the inventive aid of Archimedes, Syracuse twice repelled attempted invasions from Athens in the 5th century BC. Its Greek theatre could hold up to 20,000 and the view from the top is impressive, as is a very pretty harbour.
Arabs and Normans have also left sizeable footprints in the sands of Sicilian history, a fact illustrated clearly by a visit to Palermo, the capital, and nearby Monreale. The periods of Arab and then Norman rule (c. 830 - 1200 AD) were, in many ways, the high noon of the island's prestige and influence. Both sets of conquerors showed religious and cultural tolerance; they were happy to use the administrative and creative skills of all groups. Monreale's Cathedral is, as a result, a bizarre and beautiful mixture of Arab and Norman architecture. Byzantines were also specially contracted to complete the work. The Palatine Chapel in Palermo, built for King Roger II in the 12th century, is distinctive and impressive for similar reasons. The speed of completion of both these works hints at the financial prosperity of the island at that time.
Since then, Sicily's influence has drained away. This was at least partly because of the steady expansion of the world in perceptual terms. The Pacific Rim or Suez, for example, had no strategic importance then; the ancient and medieval worlds still revolved around the Mediterranean and Sicily occupied a vital position at its centre. A steady decline in fortunes set in under centuries of Spanish rule. The nadir was probably reached during the European wars of the late 18th / early 19th centuries when the island became, in effect, a bargaining counter. A glimmer of hope came with Italian unification in 1861, followed swiftly by disappointment as the Italians, like the Romans before them, simply used Sicily as a breadbasket.
The political decline and the rise of the Mafia may have encouraged a certain morbidity in the Palermitans. Palermo's equivalent of Mount Etna in the east and the Mafia all over the island is the Catacombs - a display of corpses, neatly categorised, often in their original clothes. There are many empty spaces...
Although its basis is Italian cuisine, Sicilian cooking reflects many tastes. The Arab influence lies behind some of the more exotic items. For a truly hot starter, pasta arrabiata (tomato and chilli sauce) will kick-start the palate. Seafood is a speciality, especially swordfish. Involtini (thin slices of meat or fish rolled up with a filling of breadcrumbs, herbs, cheese etc) are delicious, as are arancini. These are so called because they resemble oranges; they are a layer of rice and breadcrumbs surrounding a meat and vegetable filling. The most famous dessert is cassata, a concoction of ice cream or (in its cake form) ricotta cheese, studded with candied fruit. Many shops display sweets based on almond paste and fruit or vegetable shapes made with marzipan -although it is hard to imagine anyone eating (for instance) a whole marzipan orange.
This section would be incomplete without reference to granitas, refreshments too solid to be a drink but too fluid to be an ice cream. Flavours are manifold - some examples are lemon, coffee, peach and strawberry.
A week spent in Sicily seems brief, but the impressions will last. The character of the island and its people is deeply divided. The sunshine, the natural abundance and beauty, the good food and a colourful heritage are the positive side of the equation; the negative side includes the fatalism, the Mafia and Mount Etna (although volcanic lava has enabled the soil to flourish as well as bringing death). The two sides are inseparable; after all, the most sparkling jewels provoke the basest emotions.
The cultural and historical interest can keep a visitor as fully occupied as can the fine art of relaxing in what is a beautiful place. The attractions appeal to a wide age range and to visitors from all corners of the world. They will testify that, whatever you do when you're there, visiting Sicily is one of life's pleasures.
First published in VISA issue 17 (July 1995)
By Neil Matthews
‘On days like these, I wonder what became of you
Maybe today you’re singing songs with someone new...’
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| Piazza IX April |
Sicily has had to learn many songs in its time. The Greeks, the Romans, the Vandals, the Arabs, the Normans, the Hohenstaufens, the Angevins, the Spanish, the Bourbons: they all occupied the island at one time or another. Now Sicily is part of Italy. As the midday sun burns down on the chessboard pattern of Piazza IX April in Taormina on the east coast, the two guitarists sitting under one of the oleander trees give yet another rendition of ‘Volare’. There are plenty of Englishmen (and women and children) walking past, or slumped in cafe seats, but it’s too hot for them or the dogs to get particularly mad. The soundtrack changes to ‘New York, New York’, perhaps as an indirect tribute to those Sicilians and other Italians who sought a new life across the Atlantic.
After a break for a strawberry granita – a type of runny sorbet, very refreshing – it’s time to saunter down the Corso Umberto, Taormina’s main street. The town sits on the side of a hill and little side streets and alleys offer plenty of opportunities to stray from the central path of retail therapy. Vicolo Stretto is the narrowest, requiring a sideways turn to gain access. Curious crowds brandishing camera phones look on, as a model and photographer dart on and off the Corso for their latest assignment. The model totters into a side street and lounges across the steps in her slinky black dress and steep heels. She is long-haired, slim, young and attractive: the photographer is the opposite in every respect. He has to be diplomatic; if the model decided to hurry off further down the side street, there’s no guarantee he could squeeze into the gap to follow her.
Back in the Corso Umberto, all retail life is here. Designer clothes devoid of price labels include some more improbably high heeled shoes and fur coats from the new winter collection; one shop window even has a throne which must be the last word in chintz. Antique wooden furniture spills out into the street, while paintings and knickknacks sit awaiting buyers. Postcards of local views of the sea and of Mount Etna, fridge magnets, puppets of Saracen soldiers all abound. Street traders take little jelly-like objects and throw them onto towels on the pavement where, with a splat, they roll up into balls with dots for eyes and a mouth. It’s hard to avoid wondering if anybody ever buys any of this. The street is a real and figurative shop window for Sicily: bright and cheerful, the shadows inside.
At the far end of Corso Umberto, past the road which leads to the ancient Greek theatre, is the BAM bar. It claims to offer tea, on an island where coffee rules, except at hotel breakfast tables. Coffee, granitas and brioches seem to be the most popular items with its customers.
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| Strawberry granita |
Yet, implausible as it may be, tea could have gained a place in the life of Sicily, if history had taken another path. This year is the 200th anniversary of a short-lived British constitution in Sicily, in the middle of a nine year period in which British troops occupied the island. The island, with its strategic position in the middle of the Mediterranean and close to British-held Malta, saw almost 15,000 British troops arrive by mid-1806, aiming to keep sea lanes open and to act as a springboard for attacks on Napoleon’s southern flank. A succession of British representatives took varying views on how to secure the island, and whether political rule was needed in addition to military occupation. A new constitution complete with British-style bicameral parliament came into force in 1812, but it failed to be effective, not least due to its refusal to vote to raise taxes. Eventually, as the war turned Britain’s way, the new Foreign Secretary, Lord Castlereagh, believed that possessing Malta and the Ionian Islands would be enough: keeping control of Sicily might alienate British allies such as Austria. By the end of 1816 the British constitution had been abolished and Sicily returned to rule from Naples – until a certain Garibaldi arrived in 1860.
That wasn’t the end of English invasions: from then on, they usually came in the form of tourists. As the 19th century wore on, a growing section of the newly prosperous middle classes – and a smaller proportion of working people – obtained the time and the money to start to travel abroad. Following in the pioneering footsteps of Thomas Cook, a number of new travel agencies sprang up, with Italy and Sicily among the destinations they covered. One of these was the Toynbee Travellers’ Club, a society set up within Toynbee Hall in London, whose object was ‘to provide education and the means of recreation and enjoyment for the people of the poorer districts of London and other great cities’. By the late 1880s the Travellers’ Club was organising educational tours to the Continent, with reading lists and lectures held in advance.
A logbook still survives of an autumn 1901 trip to Naples and Sicily for 29 members of the Club – 19 men and 10 women. They departed on 2 Oct from Cannon Street in London, going to Ostend, Lucerne, Milan, Bologna, Rome, Naples and Sicily. They would spend 13 days in Sicily. The cost was estimated at £20 including second class rail, first class steamer, accommodation, ‘plain’ breakfasts, lunch, attendance and tips – with wine extra. (Around this time a skilled industrial worker in full employment could expect to earn over £200 per annum; an elementary school teacher could expect to earn around £150 per annum.)
The unnamed female author of the logbook recorded that the steam ferry to Messina contained ‘Sicilian gentlemen in riding boots, Piedmontese soldiers, nuns, Toynbee travellers, and peasantry with fruit. There was also on board one of the Nelson family, who still own an estate on the island [at Bronte].’ Local life was easy to observe: ‘The home life of the people is almost public as every crowded living room gives on to the main narrow street, all the doors are open and the people live on their thresholds, chatting, knitting, mending or preparing cooking with their swarthy little bambinos crawling and scrambling around their feet.’ Some of the party climbed Etna in time to see the sunrise: the logbook author noted dryly that ‘any man may climb Etna but only a fool does it twice’.
The tour visited Palermo, Agrigento and Syracuse before starting on the return trip to the Italian mainland and eventually home - ‘Travelling teaches one that the necessities of life are few, and the luxuries many!’ The tour leader, Thomas Okey, received a number of gifts from the group including a revolving bookcase.
The Toynbee group, like many who have travelled before and since, saw themselves as ‘travellers’ possessing more taste and discernment than mere ‘tourists’. However, though Thomas Cook’s business had started to open up Europe for more English travellers years before, true mass travel would not arrive until the jet age of the 1960s. Meanwhile, Taormina’s reputation grew, and not just for mainstream family tourism. DH Lawrence stayed here for a few years and wrote Lady Chatterley’s Lover. Gay men found a refuge from the prevailing (dis)tastes of their era, as some of the saucier postcards on sale in the Corso can testify.
Even today, however, some things about Taormina are recognisable from its long history as a tourist resort. Part of this is due to its location, accessible only by one of those hair-raising drives around hairpin bends which Italian coaches negotiate with inches to spare. The locals may not live their whole lives in the streets any more, but they still preen and pose on the passeggiata (evening walk), pausing to wait for a newly-wed couple to emerge from one of the local churches. Then there are the waves of day trippers (from cruise ships these days), stopping here for a brief glimpse of the town and some lunch before moving on to the next stop on their itinerary. It’s far too hot to explore much beyond the town, so who is wiser - those who dip in and out of the town like the shallow end of a swimming pool, or those who wallow here for days without exploring further?
For, make no mistake, Taormina is a tourist trap: a bright, sunny, welcoming trap, to be sure, where you can wander from one cafe to the next, or take the cable car down to the coast or a bus to the archaeological park in Giardini Naxos. Or, if it’s the dog days of July and August, with temperatures in the nineties, you can find the shade and read one of Andrea Camilleri’s crime novels, set in south-western Sicily and featuring Inspector Montalbano. The French used to say that Paris is not France; Taormina certainly isn’t more than a glimpse of Sicily. You’ll have to go further – to Palermo or Agrigento, or south to Syracuse – to find out more. But as an introduction to this large, mysterious island, Taormina probably can’t be bettered. And on days like this, as the heat bleaches everything around you, and you’re looking for a good place to eat pasta con sarde (pasta with sardines) or the best ice cream in town, then – to coin a phrase – I’ve got a great idea...
First published in VISA 105 (2012)
