What else to do in Catania, Sicily

- That is, what else in addition to taking a tour of Mount Etna.
I'd never heard of Catania. Most people have heard of Palermo. But Palermo is "just a city", I was told -- albeit a pretty one with lots of relics and stuff. Whereas Catania is the Gate to Mt. Etna.
And so it came to pass that, after spending a week in Rome, we were in a taxi from Catania airport to to the center of town.

"Is this Catania?" My husband asked, trying to stifle the dread in his voice.
"No, this is just the outskirts of town," replied our driver cheerfully, as he continued driving through the dreary, poor housing projects. (He didn't actually use the word "outskirts", but that was obviously what he meant.)
"There we are," he said about ten minutes later, pulling over to park.
I looked at the exterior of the building and my heart sank.

Entrance gate to the building

Via Dottor Consoli 55, Catania

 The inner court was not much better, with its grey, peeling walls. I couldn't even hope it was a mistake, because the sign outside confirmed we'd reached the B&B we'd ordered online.
However, once we were inside, we calmed down.
The interior was bright and happy-looking, and Lucia at the desk was effervescently friendly and helpful. Which reminds me I should offer the owners my English editing services for their website :-)

Our room, though colorful and youthful-looking, wasn't the best. But then, we did choose one of the cheaper rooms offered on Expedia. Looking back, I think it was more suitable for a couple of students on a budget than for a couple of pensioners with aching backs and too much luggage.

Michael relaxing w his iPad

Not enough room for clothes and stuff

Unnerving glass partition and door to bathroom

As you can see above, it was winter time, when bulky coats, cardigans and boots take up a lot of space. I am told tourists usually prefer going to Sicily in summer, to enjoy its beautiful, relaxing beaches. So maybe in summer, with bathing suits, flipflops, a few T-shirts & shorts, the shelves are sufficient.
I don't know why so many B&B owners give so little thought to bathroom shelves and hooks. I bet the designers are men, of the type whose toiletries comprise toothpaste and shaving gel. Though surely the typical Rome gentleman uses deodorant and after-shave? Be that as it may, I rarely find a suitable spot to place my necessaire with its cute small vials of creams and lotions.

The Elephant at the Piazza Duomo, Catania

It was Sunday afternoon, and we were starving. Off we went, trotting down Giardino Bellini to Via Etnea, assisted by Lucia's map and Michael's nearly-infallible sense of direction, in search of what my younger daughter calls FOOOOD. The streets were nearly deserted. Not only off-season, but probably still siesta-time. I have no recollection of what or where we finally grabbed a bite. So long that it was enough to keep us going.

Walking along Via Etnea (and courageously ignoring the fashionable shops), we finally reached Catania's highlights: three consecutive piazzas, each boasting a few beautiful old buildings, mostly of Baroque style I am told, and plenty of alluring cafes. My personal favorite was the elephant in Piazza Duomo.

To me, it may just be an elephant, reminding me of  Terry Pratchett's Discworld and perhaps of our trip to Thailand; but to Catanians it is a symbol of their city and its long history.

close-up of elephant

Anyone into history, architecture, and/or religion will surely appreciate the cathedrals and churches. I was rather upset by the glaring contrast between the "important" buildings, which had been scrubbed clean and were relatively well-maintained, and the adjacent "ordinary" buildings which were dirty and run-down. The city obviously doesn't have the funds to clean up and restore more than a handful of major-interest structures.

Side by side

Church, cleaned up

Adjacent building, looks like hell

 To end this totally-inadequate-post on a sweet note, here are a few recommendations and heartfelt thanks:
Food: Blanc a Manger, Brasserie Italienne, 55 Santa Filomena, Catania
Coffee and cake or snacks: i dolci di Nonna Vincenza; a chain with branches in Catania, Roma, Bologna and Milan. We enjoyed it at Piazza Duomo 17/18, Catania
Guilia Bacillieri, tour guide, Catania; works with InSicilia Vacanze and Etna Tribe; see also my post of our Etna tour
Lucia, our delightful and efficient hostess/receptionist at Miro B&B:

Lucia

Are you adventurous?

Are there only two answers, "Yes" and "No"? Or is it okay to reply "I dunno... sometimes... it depends..."?

Some people are undoubtedly and unabashedly adventurous. A mere couple of hours in the company of six other travelers on our tour to Mt. Etna were more than enough to identify the one true adventurer among us: the young, good-looking Norwegian guy who introduced himself as Thomas. I won't give you his full name nor the link to his Facebook page because I haven't asked for his permission. But this guy has traveled wherever the wind (and the airlines) took him; rides a snowmobile even though he once had his head literally* smashed in a snowmobile accident; went deeper into the dark, clammy, treacherous lava cave than most of us; and didn't yet know where he was going to spend the night, having checked out of his hotel and not made any alternative arrangements. He'd also recovered from a horrendous childhood car accident, a recovery which I attribute (off the top of my head, not through expertise) to luck, incredible tenacity, excellent medical care, and strong survivability. What, you think there's no such word? Just because Merriam-Webster et al say there isn't? Okay, so I made it up.

Giulia explaining Mt. Etna's activities. Note buried [two-storey!] house.

I, for one, am not adventurous. Which doesn't mean I can't be tempted or persuaded, once every few years, to travel to active volcanoes -- providing I've been assured that they aren't expected to act up in the next few weeks; or to climb benign mountains such as Ben Nevis on a sunny day along a well-trodden touristy path, or certain amazing snowy bits of the Canadian Rockies -- Whistlers, Bow Glacier, Athabasca Glacier, to name a few -- as you can see in my two Flickr albums of that trip. (Canadian Rockies Part I and Part II). Yes, I even drove a 25-ft RV along fairly empty roads during our trip to Yosemite, Yellowstone, Grand Canyon, and other such thrilling  places. Truth be told, if it weren't for the photos, I might think I dreamed the whole thing up.

In my limited experience, having one's kitchen or bathroom remodeled is no less nerve-wracking than climbing tall mountains or walking on a frozen lake. In both cases, you feel you are not on solid ground. Which is a feeling I dislike.

My chief occupation -- translator, editor, scribbler -- does not entail any hazards. Excepting, of course, nasty encounters with horribly-written texts and the occasional encounter with an exasperating client. But some of my colleagues have a far more adventurous spirit. They might -- and actually do -- fly small aircraft, run marathons in several countries, dive the Blue Hole in the Red Sea, go rafting in Africa, trekking in Nepal, Kong Fu training in China, ski, snowboard, or enter politics.

Some of you don't have to ask themselves whether they're adventurous. They simply have no fear, and love the thrill and excitement. And some of us would rather sit at the computer and take online quizzes to tell them whether they're adventurous. Here's what one such test told me:
"You need a moderate level of excitement and stimulation - not too little, not too much. You could probably handle a minor adrenaline rush, but not to the point where you're fearing for your wellbeing. This allows for just the right balance of excitement and relaxation on your adventurous escapades." 
[See http://psychologytoday.tests.psychtests.com/take_test.php?idRegTest=3234]
Well, duh!
I did try two other quizzes, but found the questions either stupid or totally irrelevant to me. Too culturally-dependent, and I guess I belong to a different culture than that of the quiz writers.

So, to make a long story short, I did not actually climb Mount Etna. I made do with the basic tour at the first level, which is where the coffee shops and souvenir shops are, and where we walked, with our charming, knowledgeable guide, Giulia, around the rim of a couple of small yet slippery craters. I didn't even take the cable car up to the next level at 2000 ft. I suggest that you do, though. It's a very pretty view.

A crater we walked around, with a slippery slope

Dark hole is entrance to the lava cave

Mt. Etna on a sunny day. Looks innocuous, but it isn't.

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* I'm an editor; I don't misuse the word "literally". When I use it, I mean it. Thomas' head and arm carry all the physical evidence of that accident.

The Joys of Rome

"These are a few of my favorite things..."

- Feltrinelli! For foreigners like me -- the international branch. We first discovered this amazing bookstore on our 1998 trip to Italy with the kids. It was in the Bologna branch that 15-year-old Shira walked in, looked around and declared: "I want to live here!". We ended up buying three Terry Pratchetts, one David & Leigh Eddings, one book about the history of Italy, and two pretty calendars -- a Matisse-themed and a Magritte-themed.

Feltrinelli International, Via Orlando, Roma

This time, on Via Orlando 84/86, I bought only three items -- this enticing book of stories, for which my Italian is regrettably insufficient; a Dostoevsky I'd never heard of and hoped it would be easy to read because it's so slim; and this cute set of three notebooks:

- Gelato Vice Cafe; i dolci di Nonna Vincenza; and a seemingly endless list of other places specializing in ice-cream and/or a mouth-watering selection of perfect pastries of every shape, color, consistency and flavor. Lots of flavor. (Forget the calories -- it's vacation time!)

- The symbiosis of old and new. The past is with you, for better and for worse, wherever you go; as a reminder of the gloria that transits; the rise and fall, the constant rebuilding, restoring, and moving onwards and upwards. And so much beauty, whether from centuries ago or modern times. 

- The mere sound of the Italian language. Its highly expressive and melodic intonation. When you only understand the occasional word (other than the touristy ciao, scusi, prego, il conto per favore...) it all sounds like opera, soap-opera or melodrama -- even if the so-called protagonists are in fact complaining that the bus is late or their right shoe is too tight.

- Stylish winter coats to be had for 20 euro at a street stall or 200+ at a fashion shop, and anything in-between, so long as you know what you want and have the patience to look.

- Bus, tram, metro tickets with a shiny silver strip -- a joy for little kids.

- Design, design, design. Respect for the artwork and the visitor alike:

- The inimitable art of scarf-wearing. I swear I tried. Brought with me four of my favorite scarves.
 But I just couldn't get them to protect my neck the way the Italians so nonchalantly do. Mine were too floppy. Or else I wasn't Italian enough :-)

- Becoming a "regular" at a cafe, restaurant or anywhere else for that matter, by the second time you go there! I was amazed how the adorable Ramona recognized us and remembered how we took our morning hot beverage, on the second time we came for breakfast. Then the same thing happened at Ragno D'Oro, with the Sylvester Stallone doppelganger waiter. Well, turns out that this is a bona fide Italian trait! See Dov Alfon's Facebook post of January 30th, 2016.  Oh, sorry -- it's in Hebrew! Well, the least I can do is translate the relevant bit, though I'd love you to read the whole post. Says Alfon, in item #9 under the heading "Ten signs that you've been living in Italy for too long": "The woman at the dry cleaner's remembers your name as early as your second visit, which took place a month after the first. The same goes for all the stall-owners at the market, the waiters in your neighborhood, the neighbors, the pharmacist, and even the policeman who scolded you two months earlier for crossing on a red light."

- And last but not least -- in fact the first thing that took my breath away as we approached Rome -- the pines of Rome... Okay, so I'm not being original, it's all been said before. Go sue me...

Where to Stay in Rome

Or: How the wrong B&B turned out to be the Right B&B for us

You don't really need me to tell you where to stay; there are plenty of websites just screaming at you "Me! Choose me! Look here!". But, as I've done before, I can tell you about the wonderful place we stayed at. This time, it was in the heart of Rome.

Thing is, after browsing through and perusing lots of appealing B&Bs, hemming and hawing, we finally agreed on one -- can't even remember its name -- then, to place our order, pressed the wrong button by mistake, and realized we'd booked a place called A Peace of Rome. It was quite near the Vatican, within easy walking distance, whereas we'd originally planned to stay on the other side of the river and slightly to the north. For a minute there, we hesitated. Wouldn't a place so close to the Vatican be full of religious old fogeys wanting to see the Pope? Then we shrugged and said, what-the-hell: the photos showed well-lit, tastefully decorated rooms; the price was right; and the staff answering our emails sounded friendly and efficient. The deed was done. One of the smartest deeds we ever done did.

Actually, the only sour-puss we met on our trip was the shuttle driver who picked us (and a few other tourists) up from the airport and dropped us off at the appropriate hotels/accommodations. Everyone else was a joy to talk to, regardless of our broken, minimalistic Italian consisting mainly of "per favore",  "grazie","scusi", and "aqua minerale naturale".

A Peace of Rome is in a typical majestic old but well-maintained building with a huge, tall, heavy wooden door designed to ward off fearsome foreign foes. Inside, it's all peace and harmony with a bit of IKEA thrown in to make us all feel at home :-)

Via Fabio Massimo no. 60, Roma

The first to greet us was Marina, to be succeeded in following days by Simona, Daniel, and Simona again. It's not always easy for staff to be accessible and helpful without seeming nosy or overly watchful. But they were kind, friendly and gracious. Their instructions and recommendations saved us quite a bit of headache.

This specific B&B comes without the second B. But there are two pleasing options so close you feel you could pop over in your PJs and slippers -- if it weren't a mite nippy outside.  It is January, and the coldest hours are around sunrise, ergo seven-thirty'ish, which is when we get up and start getting ready for breakfast. We'd dash out all wrapped up in heavy coat (the kind we never have a chance to wear back home in Israel), scarf, hat and gloves, cross the street, and settle into what soon became our regular breakfast place. (More about it below.)

But I digress. Surely you want to see the room itself. You can look at the pics on the Peace of Rome website, and you can see my pics of the room, before we made a mess of it :-)

Comfy bed, fine bed linen

Roomy wardrobe, handy desk, bar/fridge

Door to the bathroom; indispensable night-table

There was something soothing and relaxing about the decor, and plenty of room to put our stuff. I, for one, travel with a lot of stuff. No matter how much I agonize when packing, I always end up packing and schlepping too much. And, if we're staying for more than one or two nights, I like to unpack: to hang up my clothes, arrange my toiletries in the bathroom, put some of my personal things on the night-table and some in the night-table drawer. I like to be able to reach for my book, glasses, tissues, etc without even looking.

The bathroom was a good size, which is not to be taken for granted in B&Bs. Everything was spotlessly clean. The fresh towels regularly supplied were large and fluffy. The window overlooked the inner court, and it was surprisingly quiet, considering the very central location.

On the evening of our arrival, Marina gave us a list of recommended restaurants, several of which we tried and enjoyed. You know you're in good hands when the place is packed with locals who are obvious regulars. In Rome, the staff in most restaurants speak enough English to explain to you various intriguing things on the menu. I'm making a point of this because later, in Catania, Sicily, that was not the case... Rather, ordering from the menu was to a large extent a hit-and-miss affair, or else required boldly looking over other diners' shoulders and pointing to the scrumptious-looking food they were digging into.
One of the restaurants we enjoyed was Ragno D'Oro;

Ragno D'Oro

another was Litro; and a third eschews my memory and I can't find the darn business card!

We also booked a tour of the Vatican through our B&B, with a well-established, reliable company called Together in Rome. We were a small group of English speakers, led by the energetic and knowledgeable Patrizia (on the left, talking). The tall woman on the right is the incredibly elegant Honey from Los Angeles.

Patrizia on the left; Honey from L.A. on right.

                          

I've been saving for last our breakfast place, diagonally across the street from Peace of Rome: the friendly, always busy, choc-full of super-fresh delicious food, Compagnia del Pane. It's an L-shaped shop, with one side selling an assortment of cheeses, cold cuts, home-made bread, rolls and pastry, a huge selection of pasta and all sorts of products used in Italian cuisine; the other side serving freshly squeezed juice, coffee, and a mouth-watering array of pastries. You could either buy your coffee-and-pastry at the counter, then go sit down to enjoy it. Or you could sit down and the efficient and smiling Ramona would come to take your order. The main choices were a set menu for 10 euro or for 9 euros, or a buffet of morning goodies (plus coffee, of course!) for 5 euros. I assure you it was not an easy choice.

Campagnia del Pane

Ramona at breakfast time

Arrivederci, Ramona!

But most of all, I was delighted to have met Ramona. She recognized and remembered us the next morning, and from that second morning on she already knew our preferences and treated us like regulars. What can I say? It's a gratifying experience, and very quickly makes you feel at home, in the best sense of the word.

Simona

On our last morning in Rome, before continuing to Sicily, Simona called a taxi for us, then picked up one of our cases and came downstairs with us, to make sure the taxi driver was there and knew where he was taking us to. It was like saying goodbye to a dear friend. Arrivederci, Baci! (Simona -- if you are reading this, please send me a picture of you.)