First day of Alex’s Christmas holidays and no alarms set. The main plan for the day was the Christmas food shop so no necessity to wake up at any particular time. The neighbour’s dog, however, didn’t get the memo. Although he did at least wait till half 10 to wake us, which is something at least. A slow and peaceful morning in the house saw us both grab a shower and get ready to leave. Sadly, I pulled the short straw and went second, which isn’t advisable when the Italian boilers range from teaspoon to thimble in size. Let’s just say the end of my shower was… refreshing.
Not wanting to waste the sunny day by just food shopping and in a bid to find a bigger supermarket, I suggested we drive the half an hour out to Ragusa and check out the old town. Now, we have been to Ragusa before for Lidl and McDonalds, and the drive around was not scenic or one you would hurry back to explore further, so Alex was ready to throw this in the shit idea bin and be done with it. I explained there was a nicer part and to just have faith. We were in Italy after all, the home of faith!
Off we set with Ragusa Ibla on the satnav. Alex questioned if I had put in for the old town - Duh! Then if I put in for a car park - Shit! I had half an hour till we arrived though, plenty of time to do a follow-up search. Which, by the way, came back with several options but none I was convinced we would be able to get to with them being inside the old town. Ach, we’ll figure it out as we get there. First, we (Alex) had to navigate the Sicilian roads and drivers. A daunting task in itself.
Arriving into the back of Ragusa Alex still wasn’t convinced I hadn’t brought him to an Italian Barrow but with 10 minutes left on the sat nav, we continued. Through the town and out the other side the road started to wind further and further downwards. Not going to lie, I had a mini panic attack at that moment as everything I read about Ragusa Ibla was that it was a walled hilltop town and… not somewhere we should be driving DOWN to. We continued and turned a corner, Phew! The hillside town revealed itself. In a bid to avoid paying for parking, especially out of season, we drove past the car parks on either side of the road and hoped we would find something free eventually. Not much further down the road we spotted some street parking and were met with three options: 1. the common blue spaces we have become so used to both in Spain and Italy, with options for ticket or phone payments; 2. the rarer white spaces with a simple ‘P’ sign; and, 3. a new one - yellow - with a sign indicating a short stay for unloading luggage. Suspecting our section was free, having never been lucky enough to get a white space before, we checked the other cars around and confirmed no one else had parking tickets in their windscreen. With that, we hoped for the best, locked the car, and made our way into the old town.
A short but very steep climb later we made it up and started walking around the small streets with no clear plan or direction, other than I knew a big church and a Piazza Duomo would be involved, since they always are in Italy. As we wandered a fancy facade of a building caught our eye and we took to a side street to investigate further. It turned out to be the first of many churches in this very small old town. Church of Saint Joseph, Chiesa di San Giuseppe, a beautiful baroque church was built between 1756 and 1796, and replaces a previous church that was destroyed by the famous 1693 Earthquake. For ease, I may refer to this just as ‘The Earthquake’ because it’s featured A LOT. Not just here but for much of Sicily too.
Not being able to get inside (this is a common theme but we don’t know if this is our failing or the Italians’) we continued up the road past the church into the Piazza Duomo, and to our second church of the day. This one far grander and more decedent being the Cathedral (Duomo) of San Giorgio, another Baroque Catholic Church, completed in 1775. Again, this church was reconstructed after ‘The Earthquake’, from a site further east of the town, and in place of a different church. Before we got there, however, I spotted a sign for some toilets, which Alex had not long claimed he needed (Editor: Do you keep a record of when people need to pee or was this just for the blog?). Sadly our cheeky side mission turned out to be a fruitless wander down to a closed Christmas Grotto. Back into the Piazza, we opted for a nearby cafe for Alex to pee and me to get a caffeine fix. With none of the cafes being in the sun, Alex opted for one that had some comfy cushions on the chairs… which turned out to have crocheted covers. Woo!
A cappuccino for me, a non-alcoholic ‘mule’ cocktail for Alex, and 3 aracinis to share. Ragu, Mushroom and smoked cheese, and something else very cheesy. Aracinis… where the Italian cuisine could be mistaken for Scottish — Deep fried everything! Now, in a bizarre turn of events, I ended up talking Alex out of ordering more food (usually it’s the other way around), and thank goodness I did. These things were huge! Crispy fried rice balls with various fillings. Sad to say each one was more sickly than the other. I’ve had aracinis before and enjoyed them but these will not be joining them in that category. Not to say they were revolting, as to start with they were enjoyable, but as they cooled and my stomach became full each mouthful became harder and harder to stomach. Thinking it was just me I kept offering Alex some of my share as he ate his really quickly. Maybe he was a fan and would help me finish mine… No! Each time the reply ‘no’ went from polite, to jovial, to ‘fuck off’. I guess neither of us enjoyed them too much then.
Just as we were about to leave and head towards the Cathedral, we noticed the people next to us run down towards the little tourist train (‘Trenino Barocco’, a tourist train that can be found in the main Baroque towns including Ragusa Ibla, Modica, Scicli, and Palazzolo Acreide). Having already eyed it up but dismissing it as the sign clearly stated it wasn’t running till the evening. This was not the case, however. (I will come to learn signs mean nothing in Italy) Turns out it was only €5 each and lasts 30 minutes as they drive around the old town. Bargain!
In true Italian style, you buy the ticket in one place and redeem your item in another. So to the ticket office we went. ‘Chiusa!’ read the sign, ‘Reopening at 3 pm’. The time: 3.15 pm. Again, signs mean nothing! There was already a lady stood waiting who watched me check the closed sign and then my phone, and simply threw her hands up and pulled the usual expression for ‘it’ll open when it’s open’. As a car approached, the train driver gestured towards them and simply said ‘ticket’. It was at this point the Germans, who had gone through the same motions as me but with a lot more confusion, decided to leave the group and walked off. Both the train driver and Alex tried to call after them but I guess the lack of punctuality was too much for them, after all the trains are the one thing you would expect to run on time in Italy.
Anyway, tickets bought and on the train we jumped. As we set off the tannoy kicked in with a playlist that was a weird mash-up of jaunty medieval and gondola music. Taking us around the narrow lanes of Ragusa Ibla you have to give props to the driver! Moving a three-carriage train around roads that a small pony and cart would find narrow, with parked cars dotted about and a few steep hills thrown into the mix just for funsies.
The tour did two loops around the town, providing wonderful views of the area and passing the majority of the key buildings in the town, including:
And if you think that was a lot of churches for such a small town… the ‘Wikipedia page’ claims there are over fifty churches in the ancient city. Told you there were a lot of churches.
Once back in the Piazza Duomo we took a stroll down to the tranquil Giardini Iblei, and were blown away with the stunning views over the countryside. I think this was the first time we were both taken aback by the Sicilian countryside. Maybe it was the height of the town, the scale of the views, the setting sun, or the lack of fly-tipping - who knows. I tried to take some pictures but they really don’t do the views justice. One weird thing we noticed about the park though was the fact every bin had been knocked over. Can’t explain it, won’t explain it. (Editor: Does R-Kelly have a new Album?)
At the far end of the park is, you’ve guessed it, another church (Chiesa di Sant’Agata ai Cappuccini), which was hosting a nativity scene competition? Or at least aggressively displaying several difference ones at once? My personal favourite was the one where a bunch of pigeons turned up for the birth of Christ, followed closely by the drunk guy, oooh or the person trying to eat watermelon on the sly?! On our way back to the car we went into Chiesa Santissimo Trovato, where there was yet more nativity scenes. Never in my life have I seen so many depictions of the birth of Jesus in such a short space of time. This time it was a grander affair, set amongst a large-scale model of Ragusa Ibla.
After enjoying a day out, now came the delightful task of the Christmas food shop - on Christmas Eve Eve. If you are wondering if it is as mental in Sicily as it is in the UK… Yes, yes it is. Parking was an all-out war, which I lost a few times due to not wanting to mow people down or risk getting the car scratched. Once parked we joined the madness inside and picked up everything needed for several days of a festive binge. However, when showing friends our haul once we got home, apparently our booze-to-food ratio was a little off. Whoooopsies!
Well, best make a start on that booze to even it out! And so began the period of doing sweet jeff all that is Christmas and the in-between days.
