palermo, mondello to milazzo

Stayed at Mondello beach for two days. Somewhat recovered from Naples. Caught bus back to Palermo and train from Palermo to Millazzo.

Yesterday I had a pleasant train trip along the coast of Sicily. Aqua blue ocean and farms and little villages between the railway and the sea. Olive trees, citrus, vines and farmers putting in their spring crops. They’ve got things growing right up to the water’s edge almost, sometimes with a hedge but little else protection from the ocean. Why is the ocean so flat? In Palermo I came across two produce markets, which are really interesting to look at. I like looking at the fisherman’s displays of assorted fish. And the fruit and vegetable stalls. Artichokes and long long things they call zucchinis but don’t look like what we call zucchinis. The garlic looks different and so fresh. The grizzly old farmers and fishermen in their element as it has been for eons.

This is the Italy I came to see.

Where I am now, Milazzo, is a town of reasonable size but is really a fishing village. There are old boats painted orange and blue and old men fiddling with their nets on the water’s edge. Cedric comes to mind really strongly here. I think he would love this place and may have been here. I suspect he has been here because the bread is different to Rome or Naples. It looks like they use Fermex bread improver, making a softer more even textured, soft crusted bread that is a bit like buttercup wonder bread in disguise. It’s not as nice as the crusty flavoursome bread of Rome and Naples with the big irregular holes. Sorry Cedric. I’d like to know how to make that Roman bread.

Today I took the ferry tour of the Aeolian islands. The ferry stopped on Volcano, that’s the name of the island and what it is. It’s a funny little tourist village with a pool of hot mud smelling like rotten egg gas that people were wallowing in. A lot of the buildings seem half built or a bit shabby, like they don’t want to put too much effort in in case the volcano erupts again. It’s still steaming and spluttering.

We stopped on another island, oops I forgot its name, where they left us for a few hours. I went up to the castle and sat in an ancient cemetery looking at the curious lizards they call Gekos but look like green skinks, that play in and out of the stone crypts.

There’s something about the landscape of a volcano that’s desolate and brooding. It’s a moody landscape just waiting to erupt and express its passion. I can see in the rock formations where the molten rock met the sea and imagine what it is like at that moment. It’s a powerful place.

And the ancient cemetery speaks to me of lives long ago, like our lives; living similar dramas out over and over. We all end up in the same place. Makes me feel small, insignificant and a little bit freer.

I edited out all the emotional stuff from this post. Its just too personal for the world to see. Just know stuff is happening inside and out.

I had a really nice dinner at the hotel that I should have stayed at. The woman there is gorgeous and friendly whereas the woman here is not. Friendly makes such a difference.

Interesting facts about Sicily:


the bread is different as mentioned before

solar panels face to the south

you flush toilets with your feet- theres a foot pedal

the ocean is an amazing aqua blue colour

there's eucalypts and bottle brushes

it's nice here

Not so fast, Naples said.

Saturday, 24 April 2010
 Last wrote about being excited, escaping from Naples. I awoke early and eagerly packed and was at breakfast before breakfast was. I got myself down to the port before 8am and went to where I had been instructed the day before. It was a beautiful clear morning and I was so looking forward to getting out onto the ocean.

The security guards on the gate looked at my ticket and there was much gesturing and talking between the two of them. They told me to go back to the office. Well Naples had another surprise for me.

I went back to the ferry office and the man in the office told me a story. There had been a strike on the port the night before and the morning ferry was cancelled. I asked where everyone else was who would have been catching the ferry, all the trucks cars, buses and people. He said they had all been informed the night before and that the woman who sold me the ticket forgot to get my phone number so I couldn’t be contacted.

I was beginning to feel like I was in a weird dream that didn’t make any sense. He said, ‘don’t worry we have the reservation for you on tonight’s ferry. Here give me your ticket and I’ll make you a new one.’
I realised that there was no morning ferry and that I had been given a ticket to for a ferry ride that didn’t exist. But not being able to communicate my astonishment at this very pleasant man bullshitting to my face, I just started cackling and then broke out into full scale manic laughter. The man in the office joined in sharing the very funny joke that had been played on me.

Yeah ha ha I had another full day to fill in, with my suitcase. Did Naples hear me call it a shithole?
I did what I’d done twice before and went to the Hostel of the Sun. Even though I hadn’t stayed there they nicely let me store my suitcase there for the day. The guy running the hostel confirmed for me that there is no morning ferry to Palermo.

I’ve started to develop a paranoiac state about the Italians and the games they play with tourists, well this tourist. I’ve been overcharged, shortchanged, overcharged and shortchanged in the same transaction, misguided, taken on circuitous routes in taxis, been given a room with an open vent to Napoli’s sewer in the bathroom, (which I refused), and inconvenienced . I haven’t written about all the incidents because I was trying to avoid being a moaner. There is such a thing as ‘short change artists’ I was pleased to find out. I can imagine the Italians after a hard day’s work at bars and in homes all over the country, telling their magnificent tales of what they did to a tourist today. A national sport.

I walked all the way back to the Garden Hotel just to get this picture of the garden.


I went to the Castle Nuova where there’s another museum. Then I went back to Antonio’s restaurant and had my last meal with a really nice man. I spent about three hours there.

He asked me about where I come from and my family and I told him about where I live and how quiet it is on eight thousand acres, population one human being. There were half a dozen men in the restaurant, so Antonio shamelessly used me as the afternoon’s entertainment, translating to the others in the restaurant the things I was telling him. Kangaroos are an endless source of fascination.

He asked me if I was looking for a new wife when I go to Sicily; and if I was, look out. They are very beautiful women but also very passionate; if you do them wrong they cut off your cajones! Then he translated that to the other men to uproarious laughter and fun.

He told me about his life and the restaurant that he has had for twenty five years. He, like the other Neapolitan that I’d met, is passionate about the beautiful city that he lives in. How beautiful is the bay of Naples, no? I tried to say carefully that I have been having a hard time seeing that beauty but I could see a quality in him that was refined and cultured.


I stayed another day to get a glimpse of what I’d been missing, not through the art and buildings, but through a small restaurant owner- and to make a friend.


I caught the ferry that night. It’s quite a ship. Where you walk into the ship, I saw a black person walking towards me. At first I thought he was a woman, but as he got closer I realised that he was a rasta man.

Complete with guitar and amp on a trolley and dreadlocks. He asked me in his high voice (Michael Jackson like) to help in up the stairs with his load, which I did. (my back is regretting that now). We started talking and so I had some good company on the ferry. His name is David from Kingstown in Jamaica and busking his way around Europe. I bought him dinner and we talked well into the night. I let him store his heavy load in my cabin so he had the freedom to walk around the ship. I had a cabin with four bunks, a toilet and shower to myself, he had nothing. It hardly seemed fair. I made another friend. He slept in my cabin, I trusted that he was cool and he was.

We parted in Palermo in the morning. I went off to find the hostel that I’d booked. Another dodgy toilet story, why bother telling it.

Later in the day I came across David, he had just finished a busking session, so I missed hearing him play. He hadn’t found anywhere to stay and was running out of money so he was off to catch the train to another city and then going back to Jamaica. He’d had a bad morning and his plans had totally changed from when I talked to him the night before. He didn’t ask me for money and I was grateful for that. But it makes me think of the strangeness of having money when a lot of the people I like, don’t.

Palermo is a much nicer city than Naples. It is marginally less hectic. It has street signs and garbage bins and is easier to find your way around in. I wonder if the mafia is still in action here? It is still a city and I have been nowhere except mad cities for two weeks. I decided this morning that I need a holiday from this holiday. It seems to me that it’s 95 % hassle to 5 % interest and enjoyment.
So I took a plunge and booked a room in a moderately expensive hotel at Mondello, called the Mondello Palace Hotel. It has a lush garden of citrus and other fruit trees, overlooking the ocean and surrounded by big rocky cliffs. there’s a rooster crowing out there. It’s not too hot yet so is still quiet. This is where I’ve come to gather my thoughts, breathe and figure out what I’m doing here in Sicily. I’m not happy randomly wandering, it seems I miss more than I see. Not a good tourist.

My present feeling is I want to make my way fairly pronto up to Pietra Santa where I can settle in for a few weeks. I am a travelling homebody after all. I want to cook some meals, tend a garden, bake some bread. I think that a lot of my woes are because of my lack of Italian language. I might be able to study a bit of Italian while there.

Walking along the promenade by the sea this afternoon, young black haired lovers making out against a wall, on the beach, on a park bench and a couple walking towards me decide to stop right in front of me and have a passionate embrace. They're everywhere. Damn, a pang of lust, a deep longing, followed by the melancholy of loneliness. Then I see slightly older young couples with children in prams and a different mood in their eyes. Then like a time warp the old men walking together and the old women walking together, lovers no longer.

I gave Naples Three Days

Wednesday, 21 April 2010

I didn’t want to get up this morning because when I awoke I realised I was still in this shithole, Naples.

I gave myself three tasks for today,

One, to get a ticket out of here

Two, to get some cash

Three , to sort out what’s not working with my phone

I walked down to the port after a sparse hotel breakfast. I switched lodgings yesterday to be closer to the station. Staying at the Garden Hotel. I chose this hotel because of the name. However there is no garden except for the planter box outside which I’ll try and take a photo of later without my camera being snatched. So I walked down to the port. The excruciating thing about Italy is that there’s nowhere to take a piss. And the few public toilets that you do find you have to pay to use. So I walked down to the port and by the time I got there I really wanted to go pee. I was wondering what everyone else does.

Yesterday when Erin and I climbed mount Vesuvius, along with about 10,000 other tourists, there was one toilet in the shop where the buses stop. The queue was long. By the time I got to use it my bus was about to leave and they had to wait for me. Must have been nice for the ladies, no toilet paper, no seat and the flush didn’t work.

This is turning out to be a whinging blog. But you’d think someone would figure out that toilets are necessary.

Anyway, I went down to the port to see the sea, but you can’t see the sea from down there. It must be one of the ugliest seafronts in the world. Found the ferry office and bought a ticket to Palermo in Sicily leaving tomorrow at 9am. I am so excited about getting out onto the ocean for the 11 hour trip and a long way from Naples.

Achieved the other two to do’s without a hitch. My unlimited data plan for the phone is unlimited until you reach the limit, then it stops working.

I have a new disguise. It’s the Don’t Fuck With Me look. I’ve abandoned my beloved Akubra and bought a cheap cappelo . Talked the vender down. I wear a permanent scowl, which I really mean, spit in the gutter (a lie) and launch myself into the oncoming traffic with purpose whilst mumbling out loud to myself. No one has harassed me all day!

I went back to my hotel and slept for most of the afternoon. Hard work.

things just got a whole lot better and is anyone reading this?

 Correction from last  post. Is that a 'technophobe' or a 'technophile'? I don't know. Techno-dependant anyway.

It's embarrassing to read my blog of yesterday. Last night I met an American girl about Gretta's age consulting her map in the street. We got talking- and she's not scared. We decided to go to climb up Mount Vesuvius and visit Pompeii together today. Which we did. I got pretty tired at Pompeii and lost Erin somewhere amongst the ruins. This was a breakthrough, for me, seeking out some company and not feeling so alone.

In the train on the way home I met a Neapolitan, who spoke English and his Japanese girlfriend called Ie. He told me all about Naples and is passionate about the place. He told me where I can go underneath the city and see another Greek city underground; pointed out all the landmarks on the map for me, where to get the best pizza and recommended that I go wandering down the narrow streets and alleyways!! Now I have a map with circles and lines drawn all over it.

I'm not sure that he is aware of some of the harrassment that goes on. Anyway, he made me privately ashamed of myself for being so negative about this beautiful city.

That didn't stop me being harrassed again outside the station.  Some dude had a handful of iphones, stolen from people like me, touching my arm and trying to make me hold one. I couldn't shake him off, being polite just did not work. I stopped and turned to him, looked him straight in the eye and said, 'what is it about No that you don't Capito?' So he probably heard, 'Blah blah blah No, blah blah blah, Capito?' It did the trick.

So I'm trying to chill out a bit and just enjoy the good bits and laugh at the bad bits-('oh, he just stuck a knife in my back, ha ha ha')  I walked past a nice shop thisarvo selling handguns, flick knives and other assorted weapons. There are amazing chapels and ruins and things to see.

I'm secretly planning my escape to Sicily in the next couple of days.

Grace, when you come to Naples, BYO rice crackers.You'll love it here.

They do like dogs here. I watched a very old dog walk across the street from my high balcony in front of the intense traffic all the cars and bikes in both directions stopped until he was safely past. There's dogs sleeping on steps and  in odd places. They all look well fed.

Ristarante de Antonio down near the 500 year old Nuova (new) Castle, is the best place I have ever experienced for seafood. Antonio works his restaurant like its a theatre and involves the patrons in a subtle and sensitive way. There's only nine tables in the place and he puts on a good performance with his waiter who is like Manuel in Fawlty Towers, giving him a smack across the back of the head every now and again making him more nervous and clumsy.

Well there's one other thing to be said.

This is more interesting than Barraba.

hiding from the world

I’m such a technophobe I coundn’t cope without a laptop. So I bought a mini laptop at a ‘drugstore’ at the terminus station for 249 Euros. Seems to work. Plugged my iphone into it and lo and behold I was connected to the internet, through the iphone. That was OK but it used up all my prepaid data allowance in about an hour. So, went and spent more on a mobile internet thingo, which was quite a feat with charades like antics. Now it should be easier for me to post wonderful tales.

I’ve been accused of being Crocodile Dundee a few times, I wish I had the big knife. I don’t know whether to lose the Akubra or not.

I am now in Naples.My first impression is a filthy and dangerous city. When I arrived at the central station and walked out into the rubbish and filth I thought-

‘WTF am I doing here?’

It’s a city of spitters, rubbish and dog shit. Do they always spit or are they doing it for my benefit?

I walked to my lodgings which was a long way, feeling as conspicuous as Wedge’s balls, dragging my bag across the cobblestone streets. My trusty iphone map led me astray into the winding backstreets of Naples, I feared for my life and my iphone and ended up at the Hospitale Incurables. I should have checked in.

Eventually found my lodgings through a door within a door and breathed a sigh of relief to find some safety.
By coincidence I’m right near the Museum Archaeological Nationale. I deposited my bag and was starving enough to go out and face the spitters and homicidal maniacs on motor scooters again. There is a busy restaurant opposite the museum so I went in there. I got a table but it soon became obvious that they were very busy and it would be a long wait. Luigi was running from table to kitchen and the woman running the show was yelling at him, 'Luigi, Luigi!' between arguing with customers about the price on their bill. I got up to leave and was sternly told to sit if I wanted mangiare . I sat.

Grace, I was thinking of you and ordered risotto with prawns and rocket salad.

What I got was something else. It was a watery rice mess with pipi shells and bits of octopus and the occasional prawn whisker. It smelt like the bait bucket after a hot day in the sun when fishing with Dad, mixed with bilge water. It’s nice, isn’t it,when smells bring back childhood memories?

I tried but I couldn’t eat it. I waited for my rocket salad. It didn’t come. I asked the matron about it and she said I didn’t order it ( more charades). I pointed it out on the menu. I think she told me that the food I’d got was buono and I should shut up and eat it.

I did something I’ve never done before. I walked out. Did leave five euros on the table. So I went into the museum angry, tired, afraid and with bait bucket breath. It took me a while to settle down but when I did I found the most wonderful collection of ancient sculptures and paintings.

Spent the afternoon there and thought that it was all worth it.


I walked down to the port in the rain and spoke to some Australian girls at the ‘hostel of the sun’, which I’m considering relocating to. The place is pretty lousy but I figure there’s safety in numbers.  Found a little restaurant nearby and it was really good. I had a salad and a grilled sea bass with potatoes. The best meal I’ve had in Italy so far.The owner was so nice. This really is a place of extreme contrasts.

Today I walked up to the Museo di Capodimonte. Cap of the Mountain is what that means. Not as inspiring as yesterday’s museum, perhaps the adrenalin wasn’t pumping so hard. The building is huge grey and foreboding. Too tired to walk back down so I got ripped off by a meterless taxi. Was approached by two men who asked me something. I ignored them. They followed me back to the hostel. This place is creeping me out, so I’m taking refuge in my room until hunger drives me back out into the streets again.

Surely this is just paranoia. I'm out of my comfort zone. Things will get better, wont they?

From Drop Box

more of Rome

Monday, 19 April 2010
Some notes on Rome before I forget.
I did a lot of walking in Rome. By the end of the five days the confusion of trying to find my way around was getting less confusing. I’d come across somewhere that I’ve been before but from a different direction and a map was developing inside my head.
The plethora of amazing monuments and buildings is astounding. The contrast between the past and the present is what I see and feel the most. The modern day Rome seems to be based on the good deeds of history. I see a mad, decaying city. The people are stressed, in a hurry and they are all smoking themselves to death or getting killed and maimed in motor accidents. The constant scream of the ambulances grates on my nerves.
For me, if I focus on the present city, I get distracted. If I focus on soaking up the culture and the art and the opportunity to see stuff that was made a couple of thousand years ago, up to the renaissance, I am filled with amazement and strange emotions. Maybe I’m missing the point. Maybe Rome has always been a mad centre of human activity and that is part of the culture.
One evening at dusk I walked past a group of gypsies in a square under a monument or fountain. There was a little campfire in the corner of some marble masonry. About a dozen people were sitting in a circle on the ground eating their meal that consisted of whatever was in the pot and some bread. They seemed to be enjoying the evening more than I was. They seemed to come from another time and were just there, doing what they have done forever, independent of the hustle and bustle; but also part of it.
Without company I walk and walk. On Friday night I walked the dark cobblestone streets. I came across a busy piazza, Campo di Fiori, with busking musicians, even bands, I sat at a restaurant and watched the people. A group of children were dancing in a circle and playing games. Hawkers were plying their wares, annoying the patrons.
I had some dinner there and walked on; found myself back at the colosseum on my way back to the hotel. In the darkness of a park, there were men standing around. Maybe a gay pick up site. I didn’t investigate.
Nearer to my hotel in a little square were a couple of hundred young people all drinking and smoking and basically having a public party. I bought a gelato cone and watched them for a while, feeling kind of old. I wanted to get away from Rome.
There’s a volcano erupted somewhere and because they can’t fly, everyone in transit descended into the Terminus station in Rome. I went to purchase a ticket to Naples and found a chaotic scene. Thousands of people in long queues. I went back to the internet café and attempted to buy a ticket on line. The site I found, how to travel by train in Italy said there was only one problem with booking online. The website’s good, you can click on the English version, you can book the ticket and even though it says it accepts all credit cards, it doesn’t. So I tried, even my travel money card with euros didn’t work.
I went back to the Terminus station at midnight. The queues were shorter, most of the people that were queuing five hours before had set up camp for the night, drinking, eating, asleep. A festival of bodies, a community of strung out people trying their best to be comfortable. I bought my ticket and went back to the hotel, wondering what tomorrow would bring.

a couple of days in Roma

 OK, that's plenty of photos of me. Promise I won't do that again.

 That last one's for you Lea.(Ferris)
Another theme would be the doors in Rome. the doors are so huge, so huge that some doors have smaller doors in the door, human size.

there's a lot more photos of me if you want. I must remember to smile once in a while.
I've walked a lot in the last  three days. My back hurts and feet were aching. The Blundstone boots aren't helping so bought a pair of trendy Italian sandals called Zen and are made in Bosnia.Much better.
Yesterday I hated Rome. Every time I crossed a street someone tried to kill me. All those god damned monuments, cathedrals and fountains. Overdosed already.Truly amazing that man can achieve such stunning work; wonder why we make such crap now?

Today feel a bit more of the sublime. Went to the Borghese museum and almost wept looking at the Bernini sculptures. Learnt how to catch a bus and had a nice walk along the river.Wrote a couple of postcards.
Would have helped if I'd brought some addresses with me, so if you want a real live postcard, send me your address in an email!
One more day here and then I'll be seeking out some countryside somewhere near Naples. This post has given you little information about the places visited.All that stuff is in guide books and written well.
More about fleeting thoughts and emotions. Had a good conversation with an Indian man selling beady things down by the river.I bought a couple of beady things. Must go and eat. Figuring out how to upload those photos took ages.
Ciao.

Roma, Italia

Long flight from Dubai to Rome. The plane seemed a bit ancient for Emirates. There were ashstrays in the armrests and the back of seat TV's stuffed. There was a aussie mom with a redheaded two year old boy across the narrow isle. At first I felt great empathy for her and the child, remembering travelling with little kids back in '85. But as the screaming increased in volume and didnt seem that it was ever going to end, I wanted to throttle the little bugger.
I was a lot calmer than the Harvey Keitel look alike Italian in front of me who was beside himself in frustration at not being upgraded to business class and the redhead boy, complaining to the patient hostess continually. Maybe it was Harvey Keitel playing an uptight Italian for my benefit. It seemed Karma was at work, I got to see how I affected people when I was two.
Made friends with a young Indian man, Shrinivas from Bangalore, who was sitting next to me. He is in banking software, so we had a lot in common. we hung out together in the queue for immigration, which was lengthy, then we dicovered how to get to the Terminus station by train together. It was nice to have some company right up to the taxi stand where we parted in confusion from haggling taxi drivers vying for our attention whilst we exchanged mobile phone numbers. I hope he made it to his hotel.
I made it to mine. I could have walked but the taxi driver drove me around  for a while, blaming the one way streets for the circuitus route. Ah, tourists are good for milking. He dropped me on the corner and I walked the length of the street three times and asked directions as many. Finally found my hotel which entrance is one of many identical archways without a sign (well a very small one) and the street numbers are so random. I'm staying at the Atorius hotel in the labarynth of narrow cobblestone streets in the centre of Rome. A tiny room but everything is really well made and the marble bathroom a treat. I like it.
This morning I found a mobile phone place and got a sim card for italy. Then noticed that at the end of the street was what looked like the Colluseum. I walked down there- it was the Colluseum. I stood overlooking the scene from a high point and felt strangely emotional, that here I was, am, in Rome standing in front of an ancient monument. Felt a bit lonely, a bit lucky, a bit like these moments only happen a few times in life. This time is special for me.
So I went down and joined the tourist throng and carried out my plan for the day, which was to walk in circles in ever increasing diameter as I feel more comfortable in my new surroundings. I walked for five hours straight. My feet are sore. I took some photos, the main theme being self portraits in front of important places and the secondary theme is becoming sculptures of lion heads.
Photos will come later. Siesta time, ciao.

Dubai Airport

Brief stop at airport. Flying in from Bangkok was comfortable. From the air Dubai appears out of a flat sand desert. The airport is huge and the people are a cocktail of every race and culture. I don't feel too conspicuous wearing my Akubra. Its like a fancy dress party, especially those wealthy arabs in their long shirts and funny thngs on their heads. Maybe I do feel conspicuous. Why do they give me dark looks?
Someon in Thailand said I look like a cowboy. Boarding call to Rome

bit of bangkok

Hi all,

At starbucks cafe in fragrant and humid Salom area in Bangkok. Just letting you know that I haven't joined the redshirts and am still safe. Movement is a bit limited, lots of security and roadblocks. Went for a ride in a tuk tuk with mad driver who took me down some seedy alleys. Most dangerous thing I've done since paragliding. I bought a cheap watch to keep them all happy, denied the boat trip down canals and didn't want a taylor to make me a suit or have the massage at the happy house.

That's a baby in her arms


The pervading smell is something between toe jam and my compost bucket. When I had dinner last night in a nearly empty restaurant in the very busy markets, the sauce for dipping my vegetables had the exact same smell as the aforementioned. And it was delicious!

Went to a go go bar after and was swamped by girls ( or were they boys?) and escaped after buying, at their insistence, three of them drinks. I have to learn the word for No.

Today I might get a real Thai massage.

The flight over was a cramped and sleepless one with me and my aching back in the window seat, when I'd asked for the isle.

From Bangkok,
Cliff

technological challenge

xmas 2009

reasons to stay home

Nelia frogs are friendly

This is my house about sixty years ago. It's much the same now, but in colour.

Home grown dinners

Preparations

Hi, 

This is my third attempt at starting a blog.

So this time instead of writing a whole lot and losing it, I'm just going to try and add a picture and post it.

Ooh, I think it's working. Here's a cutie for you Grace. She was at the Beulah Rock Climbing Festivus.

Please leave a comment if you dare, so I know it works.