Erice and Trapani

19/11 ERICE

On the road again to Erice, our last Italian touristy stop.  It’s a tiny stone medieval town 800m above Trapani, the port town from where we leave Sicily on tomorrow’s ferry.  We’ve been looking for the last week from El Bahira campsite - it’s beckoning wonderful castled silhouette, fairy night-lights and dancing cloud veil as it rests high on a plateau behind San Vito’s headland. 

In the past the Elymirians lived here but it was built up to an impressive & beautiful fortress by the Normans in the 10-12 hundreds.  Now, it’s all about exquisite views over wild coast, Trapani’s busy port, salt pans & shimmering salt heaps, changing cloud blankets & lights, spectacular photography, dinky alleys, bad trinket shops and endless really, really good pasticcerias, some in convents, making unbelievable almond biscuits, cakes, latte di mandorla (almond milk) & insanely magnificent crunchy fresh ricotta filled cannoli.

Except for the town centre, the place was fast asleep such that from every open enticing aromatic doorway was sung “Bon Giorno! Cappuccino? Cannoli??”

We gave in….twice...the first sampling 5 different almond cakes, almond milk, hot chocolate and coffee and the second, 3 different types of arancine.  The busiest aspect of the town were the multitude of chiesa (15 churches in this tiny place), the bells ding-donging all the time and stray dogs and cats under and on everything.

Darkness & fog swept in at about 1700hrs settling us into Ed in our sosta (night park) for the usual.  We’ll have plenty of fuel in the tank for a grueling last Italian bike ride.  If ‘game’ and the weather permits, we’ll fly back down the switchbacks… and then UP, UP, UP.

Our now homesick spirits were buoyed by texts from Uncle Mike, Grandad, RSA family & a call to Grumma (thanks Mary for providing the talking anaesthetic to help free the Italian splinter!) and news about the Castile Street neighbourhood.

20/11

A brilliant quiet, flat (ie on level ground) night’s sleep on the edge of the world looking over the lights of Trapani from beneath the medieval towers of Erice.

Hearing the patrol of the circling Carabinieri, we hauled out of our cozy cocoons tag teaming on one of the best rides of the year.  The views back to San Vito Lo Capo, the morning air crisp and clear after the rain, the morning sun radiating a cozy warmth, the glorious curving rode relatively traffic free, and the persistent gradient - splendid.

Back home to dueling card kids, we savoured every mouthful of breakfast as well as a second cuppa amongst the swirling clouds.  Sometimes, we could see through them over the coast and sometimes, no further than one another.  Our laziness was contrasted against the crazy paper plane throwing bonanza enjoyed by the squids in the fog.

Roused ourselves to take a last walk through the Porta Spada (the site of a massive slaughter in the war of the Sicilian Vespers (1200’sAD) when the locals deposed the French colonists), finding a most peaceful scene of Medieval construction, silently cloaked in light fog.  Through the gate and onto the edge of the cliff the sun smashed through and the views were again spectacular.

After some slow family time chatting and cuddling we got back into Ed knowing that we were finally leaving behind the beautiful villages of Europe.  Wil is determined to come back and base himself in London so he can do lots more exploring.  Kel not so sure.

Slowly wound our way down the steep switchback hill to Trapani, a port city, “once the rival of Venice,” known for it’s ugly urban jam as well as the dominance of the mafia here.  Also known for it’s small pretty baroque Centro Storico.  

Navigated the unruly and impatient traffic to the car park close to the port and set off on foot (definitely not game/stupid enough to take the kids cycling in these Italian streets) to find the ferry terminal and check in.  Behind us Erice was (as so often) buried under a heavy grey cloud but down here the sun shone. A cool sea breeze wafted the stink of fishing docks and cats’ pee away and we soon identified the well recommended “Angelino’s” restaurant where the Cannoli is “world’s best.”  Continuing through the Centro Storico just as the peace of siesta started , we found ourselves heading down a skinny sickle shaped peninsula, with the short avenues to left and right opening the ocean vistas with wheeling seabirds and giant cumulous clouds skudding by.

More stray dogs and cats than people on the extensive docks, filled with small fishing boats.  Think we could get used to this Siesta Forte - the Sicilians do a 4 hr break - the Spaniards only did 2.  But by the time you close up shop, drive home and eat lunch it would be almost time to go back again if it was only 2 hrs.

We checked in at the Grimaldi office, relieved to find we are at the right place on the right day and there will be a ferry big enough to hold Ed departing tonight, then headed back to Angelino’s for a simple Sicilian feast - Piatta 1: Arancine, Piatta 2: Cannoli - not just any Cannoli - a giant biscuity shell filled with sweetened Ricotta with choc chips that for once this year had Wil asking Jeff to help him finish his.  Topped off with a cappuccino/hot choc we rolled out “full up to fat” and covered the rest of the still closed up Centro Storico, lined with designer clothes shops, stopped for a play in the park where there was also a “zoo” and then caught the Ed Express to the beach on the northern side of the peninsula to watch the sunset and play some beach games.  

Foiled by the rain we sat in Ed, had a pasta left over dinner and then drove back to the port park through the now alive and pumping streets of the old town.   Settled in for a short kip before boarding at 11 but Wil was too excited and the olds were filled with trepidation about all sorts of things, including the concern with having drugs planted by mafia under Ed to be trafficked to Roma.  Jeff did the torch search under Ed (twice) and at 11 we woke the kids and trundled down the road in the rain where we found a huge “Catania” looming above us, back door down awaiting us.  The revved up Wil talked our ears off with unending questions that ended in frustration from his parents who asked him kindly to return to his book.  We waited, watching all manner of vehicle come off the Catania (it has come from Tunisia) and finally called forward, we edged Ed up the ramp obliquely to protect his bottom (saw quite a few crunches getting off) and then set off with our bags of goodies, kids in pajamas to find our cabin.  It was clean, 2 double bunks, a shower and toilet (woo hoo!!!), and a porthole.  Tried in vain to settle the kids to sleep - their excitement now off the scale, but soon (1am) we felt and heard the engines rumble up and with the vibrations and then the smooth gentle roll of the Mediterranean swell we all descended to a well needed sleep bidding farewell to Sicily.  Strange, the roof is so far above the bed - one can get into bed without hitting one’s head!