sicilia to lecce via 'fiery' mt etna
2 nights of the university town, lecce, have flown by with little bad to report - a lovely little appartment that is well loved by jenny and her sweet italian flatmates, graziella and marianna (who are very generously cooking up a carbo feast at home as i type). a great whopping load of laundry, a large magnum of red wine and much sitting around playing the guitar has dominated the proceedings here - mixed up by a long walk through the town sampling gelato and local amaretto flavoured ice-coffee. all of this normality has been a nice wind-down in the south of the south after a whirlwind week and some crazy happenings in sicily...
it was unfortunate that we had to rush through sicily so quickly, but thats what happens with unplanned side-trips and 2 nights was enough to give me a taste for more. the north side of sicily and some of the islands up there has joined several other destinations on the "to do" travel list for an unknown date in the future. but it would be a lie to say that we weren't relieved to get back to the mainland after a crazy day of travelling through the small towns that ring the foot of mt etna. the bus drivers in sicily assume that because you wish to visit a destination and have paid for your ticket that you know the final stop by sight. this of course is not the case and it only occured to us that we were on the way out of linguaglossa (the birthplace of my nonna) when we saw the big linguaglossa sign with the red-cross striking through it. italian for:
"you have now left linguaglossa and are on the road to the middle of knowwhere where the bus-driver will be angry at you for not getting off at your stop and home of the dirty roadside from hell where nothing is hopen and busses come the other way very infrequently and whoose bus-drivers find it an incredible nuisance to pick up passengers"
it wasn't all that bad and we killed time playing silly buggers waiting for the next bus to the lingua, but when we arrived the rain started pissing down and the dredded endless siesta, bane of all tourists in italy, had only just begun. the only place open was a bar full of strange locals who were more than happy to discuss with us the several different locations of bus stops and routes out of town: none of which actually existed. or if they did they were very camouflaged. it was only when we found the stop and went into a smoke shop to purchase a ticket that the last bus of the day (incidentally at 4pm) flew past. this stroke of luck gave us the time to wait for the shops to open and sample some of the 'firey mt etna' grappa (maxing at about 70% alcohol content) and buy numerous handicraft items which will no doubt cost a packet to send home. but our lack of luck made the day for us in the end and indeed, as a famous traveller once said: "well, it's something to write home about..."
just realised that the flight i booked to paris from milan is a day earlier than expected so we will have to hot-foot it and take the hit of the more expensive last-minute train ticket (things work out cheaper here if you book 1 day in advance) and take the train to parma overnight tonight as opposed to our original plan of arriving tomorrow. but these things happen
ciao
it was unfortunate that we had to rush through sicily so quickly, but thats what happens with unplanned side-trips and 2 nights was enough to give me a taste for more. the north side of sicily and some of the islands up there has joined several other destinations on the "to do" travel list for an unknown date in the future. but it would be a lie to say that we weren't relieved to get back to the mainland after a crazy day of travelling through the small towns that ring the foot of mt etna. the bus drivers in sicily assume that because you wish to visit a destination and have paid for your ticket that you know the final stop by sight. this of course is not the case and it only occured to us that we were on the way out of linguaglossa (the birthplace of my nonna) when we saw the big linguaglossa sign with the red-cross striking through it. italian for:
"you have now left linguaglossa and are on the road to the middle of knowwhere where the bus-driver will be angry at you for not getting off at your stop and home of the dirty roadside from hell where nothing is hopen and busses come the other way very infrequently and whoose bus-drivers find it an incredible nuisance to pick up passengers"
it wasn't all that bad and we killed time playing silly buggers waiting for the next bus to the lingua, but when we arrived the rain started pissing down and the dredded endless siesta, bane of all tourists in italy, had only just begun. the only place open was a bar full of strange locals who were more than happy to discuss with us the several different locations of bus stops and routes out of town: none of which actually existed. or if they did they were very camouflaged. it was only when we found the stop and went into a smoke shop to purchase a ticket that the last bus of the day (incidentally at 4pm) flew past. this stroke of luck gave us the time to wait for the shops to open and sample some of the 'firey mt etna' grappa (maxing at about 70% alcohol content) and buy numerous handicraft items which will no doubt cost a packet to send home. but our lack of luck made the day for us in the end and indeed, as a famous traveller once said: "well, it's something to write home about..."
just realised that the flight i booked to paris from milan is a day earlier than expected so we will have to hot-foot it and take the hit of the more expensive last-minute train ticket (things work out cheaper here if you book 1 day in advance) and take the train to parma overnight tonight as opposed to our original plan of arriving tomorrow. but these things happen
ciao
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