Sicily, part 4: The rest

 We are about to climb aboard a plane and returning to Italy, and so I am racing to finish the story of last May's Sicily trip before I return to Fidenza and resume my regular blogging duties.

Danny is a fan of hot springs and when he read that Sicily is full of volcanic geyers and mineral springs he proposed that we include a visit to one in our itinerary. Francesca obliged by taking us to the thermal baths in Segesta, in the countryside about an hour's drive east of Palermo. 

"Terme" means thermal baths

The hot springs we've visited in California are either unsupervised naturally occurring pools in the middle of nowhere or part of more or less elaborate spas. Usually the latter include not only hot pools but also cold plunges or cold showers to help you recover from cooking in the thermal springs.

The place in Segesta was very nice, very clean, and quite underppulated on a weekday morning, but all the water apparently came from the same hot spring. The large indoor jacuzzi-like hot tub, the outdoor lap pool, and the showers all were hot and sulfurous. The only way to cool off was to stand on the deck and wait for a breeze. After we'd showered and dressed Francesca spread towels all over the seats of her car, lest we imbue them with the stink of sulfur that clung to us for the rest of the day.

The other big attraction in Segesta is its Greek temple, which dates from about 420 BC and is the best preserved Doric temple in Europe. Sitting all by itself on a hill, it's very photogenic.

Francesca told us that although it is a classic Greek temple, it was built by the non-Greek locals to try to convince Greek colonies elsewhere in the area to side with them in one of the small local wars that were always going on. The alliance fell apart, the war continued, and the temple remained roofless and uncompleted. 

One way to look relatively young is to stand in front of a ruin.

After our week together in Palermo ,Valerie went off with Francesca to see more temples in Agrigento while Danny and I took a bus to Piazza Armerina, a small town in the center of the island. The scenery along the way was mostly unpopulated and very beautiful.

 Piazza Armerina is a little hill town with a surprisingly large cathedral at the top, its dome like the cherry on a Sicilian titty pastry.

The view from our bed-and-breakfast.

We got plenty of exercise walking around the town. Here's the street leading up to the cathedral.

The Duomo itself is surprisingly restrained, decorated in Wedgwood blue and white.

It seemed almost un-Sicilian, although one of the balconies is decorated with the island's emblematic three-legged woman, the trinacria, the symbol that's now emblazoned on the Sicilian flag.

The reason most people, including us, visit Piazza Armerina is the astonishing Roman palace a few kilometers outside of town. This huge villa, with its thermal baths, dining rooms, exercise rooms, public halls, enclosed gardens, and quarters for guests, children, and servants, was built in the fourth century AD, then laid waste by capital-V Vandals and others in later centuries. Then a vast landslide in the 12th century covered it over.

When archaeologists began excavating the site in the early 20th century they discovered that the villa's acres of mosaic floors had been almost perfectly preserved. It's one of the world's most extensive set of Roman mosaics.

Birds, animals, and marine life dominate the mosacis, with scenes of hunting, fishing, and chariot races. 

These competitors were on the floor of the children's playroom.

Fishermen-putti decorated the part of the palace that housed the hot, cold, and tepid baths.

And this sexy medallion was in the master's bedchamber.

My photos don't come anywhere near doing justice to these mosaics and the villa's story. Of all the "sights" in Sicily, this was the most exciting.

Our third and final stop was Catania, on the western side of the island. We had booked a room at the XX Miglia bed and breakfast, conveniently near the bus station. We arrived at the address, a big, rather battered apartment block, and were buzzed in and told the code for the elevator that would take us to the top floor. The interior courtyard looked more than a little alarming. "We should have spent more money," Danny said nervously. 

Once we arrived at the top, however, we discovered a lovely little hotel with pretty rooms, welcoming hosts, and, the next day, an excellent breakfast. We later learned that the keypad on the elevator, which the B&B owners had installed at their own expense, was to keep the building's other tenants from using it.

We had a day in Catania before flying back to Fidenza. The old central city is a baroque banquet. 

The famous elephant obelisque in the main square was charming even while undergoing some hydraulic repairs.

The cathedral, just across from the elephant, is suitably grandiose.

Inside are the remains of a cardinal, sheathed in silk and silver, who is remembered for--what else?--his commitment to charity.

We also made a quick visit to San Nicolo, a Benedictine monastery that's another of Catania's must-sees. This vast pile in the center of the city provided a very sweet life to the monks who lived there.

One of the monastery's two cloisters.

The grand entrance.

The decor features poor Sant'Agata's mastectomy.

An informational sign notes that the monastery was a favorite stopping place for well-born 18th-century travelers because of the high quality of the accommodations, food, and wine it offered. One visitor, amazed by the luxuriousness of this "palace," was assured that it "was nothing else than a convent of fat Benedictine monks, who wanted to assure themselves a paradise in this world, if not in the next." 

After visiting the monastery I was grateful to be able to toast our own version of the good life with a Campari spritz, followed by an "aperi-fish" platter of fried baccala, mussels, swordfish involtini, and other seafood and a tasty salad--probably a rather ascetic meal compared to what those long-ago fat monks enjoyed. Still, for me Sicily was more paradaisical than not, and the interplay of the bright and dark sides of its history are a big part of its appeal.