High in the hills near Montalbano Elicona, north of Etna, there is a plateau, called the Argimusco. In the middle of this plateau stand five megalithic rocks. Each has a name, according to its shape: the eagle; the lion; the … Continue reading
Photo credit: Zilverbat I’m at the station in Catania, battling with the automatic ticket machine. First the screen freezes, then, just as I’m about to pay with a twenty euro note, it tells me that it doesn’t have change. Most … Continue reading
As I mentioned in my post a few weeks ago, August in Sicily is a holiday month. It’s hot and sticky and really all anyone (me included) wants to do is have some fun sit on the beach or by … Continue reading
“Applauso!” The chubby girl with the paisley smock and the crinkly-eyed smile, as good as her word, gives her little sister an enthusiastic round of applause. The two girls are playing beside the restaurant outside which my friend Davide and … Continue reading
I have stories to tell of days by the sea, and of Cyclopian legends, but for today they’ll have to wait. I have a friend in town, it’s hot, and there is cold beer to be drunk and delicious food … Continue reading
Photo credit: mac.rj It was in August that I moved to Sicily. 12 August 2011, to be precise. So it looks like I’ve got a two-year anniversary coming up. Mind you, in the way of all relationships, there are various … Continue reading
Photo credit: Nathan Rupert Here at San Giovanni Li Cuti what sand there is is black. Not because it’s dirty (although it’s littered with rubbish), but because the rocks that created it were – like much of the stone from … Continue reading
Photo credit: Mr Jive “Via Etnea! Etnea!” The young girl beside me on the bus is dredging up every last scrap of her English to tell the four tourists across the aisle from her where they are. “Here you work!” … Continue reading
The town of Acitrezza is decked in red and yellow ribbons. They flutter from balconies as old men perch on the steps of the church of the saint that the ribbons are celebrating: San Giovanni Battista. Even at this time, … Continue reading
We peer out of the door of the bar into the drizzle which can no longer really be called drizzle and is now plain, common-or-garden, gets-you-proper-wet rain. The girl behind the bar pulls a face. I’m pretty sure I do … Continue reading
