Leaving Licata for the final time (Terry)

 

Saturday looked good for some north so we planned to depart in the early afternoon for a 20 hour trip.  We intended bypassing Porto Empedocle due to some nasty reports of overbearing officials threatening cruisers with enormous €€€ fines for not much.  We also intended bypassing Sciacca as it would have required an early morning start to get in at a reasonable time.  This way, we would catnap, wake, watch, check, then snooze again but go “dritto” for 100 miles and hit the ↓ on the windlass, then go to sleep. 

The Navionics Route

 

Our final week in Licata was marked with some very strong winds from the West, which didn’t suit us at all.  It did suit some of our friends who were headed to Malta (Malta must be full right now!) but we sat still.  Our friends Cees and Jos, the two Dutchmen on Vasco Da Gama, were preparing to leave a day behind us to come up the same way, and Gustaf and Harriet on Miss Sophie were planning the same day but south to Greece.  Gary and Louise on Takamoana need to do a run to Tunisia to restart their VAT clock as we did and after that they are still undecided.  Martine and Patric are still there but will be out this week and off to Greece.

We made up a giant hamper for the marina staff to show our appreciation for all their work and help, particularly with medical issues and contract issues.  It truly is a well-managed marina, (as was Finike, to be sure) and we will miss Maria and Dario, Emi and the Marineros, particularly Big Tony’s smiling face.

 Emi on my right, Big Tony on my left.  Maria and Dario alongside Tony, Andy and Giuseppe at the other end

 

 A sailor's suit for Maria's new baby

We went up to town to get some money and called in for coffee at our favourite coffee shop, Roma Café, with Signore Toto and his wife Ina – the best coffee in Licata and some of the nicest pastries, and a regular morning drop in spot for us.  Then it was a quick trip next door to Vodafone to say goodbye, hugs and kisses with Antonella who helped us a lot with our various wifi needs over the past 6 months.

 Toto and Ina in Roma Cafe alongside Toto's famous machine

We did a final buy-up at Conad, loading up on milk, Coke, beer, including Carol’s Lemon Beer,  wine, chicken (for our usual Common Sense Chicken Stew, which is actually Miss Jane’s Chicken Stew J), mince for Tacos and Osso Bucco (which are €2.30 for two large cuts here, so we got 4) plus yoghurt, vegies and bread.  Carol snagged a 500ml bottle of home-preserved Artichoke hearts in the street from a man whose wife prepares them at home - €5!

Then it was final showers without a time limit, hand back the shower keys and off to Common Sense.  Miriam off Lady Blue (still deciding where to go as her eldest needs to choose a University soon) shook our lines and we motored out to only a few horns and blasters, unlike the early departers who had upwards of 40 horns going off.  We could see Cees and Jos waving, Gary and Louise, Miriam with her horn but no sign of Patric unfortunately – he has a French Cavalry Bugle that sounds great.  Carol was on the foredeck with her Bahamian Conch Shell sounding out over the whole bay and then it was out the heads and off to new adventures.

We slipped our lines at almost exactly 14:00.  The Autopilot refused to turn on again, although with a different error message this time.  I  turned everything off in sequence, turned everything back on in sequence and finally it engaged and we assumed our normal positions on the settees as we motored up the coast in 5knots True but from directly on our nose.  Nothing new there.

Passing Agrigento, capital of our Province

We continued on through a moonlit night with no variations in engine noise but with occasional currents either helping or hindering – one hour at 4.7kn, another at 6.7kn.

 

Off into the sunset again

Lots of small fishing boats out as we neared our endpoint as it is Sunday and it’s go-fishing day for all the guys.

We are anchored in a bay in Favignana on the west side of Punta Longa with about 10 other boats.  All but one will leave tonight I think (on day-trips from Trapani and Marsala).  We are at 37° 55.059N, 12° 19.147E.   The water is crystal-clear, the wind is up a little but we are dug in well, it is warm and we are all caught up on our sleep.
 

 

From Licata to Tunisia via Pantelleria

The start of a sailing season brings mixed feelings: there is the excitement of setting sail and the prospect of new lands and new adventures, but also sadness at saying farewell to so many good friends with whom we share the cruising life. Of course there is every chance we’ll meet again, in a little fishing harbour, on a busy town dock or a deserted bay somewhere, to share our stories and a few cold beers. Ours was a little less tearful than many of the departures as we knew we’d be back in Licata in about a week. We were making the trip to Kelibia in Tunisia to avoid being in the EU for more than 18 months at a time, which would make Common Sense subject to VAT.

Winds at the start of the week had been consistently strong west south-westerlies - just what we didn’t need for the run to the Sicilian island of Pantelleria which lies about 90 nautical miles directly west south-west of Licata. Sunday promised light westerlies, so that looked like our best bet. After the paperwork and all the usual checking and stowing, we slipped out at about 11 am, planning to make Pantelleria the following morning.

 

It really was a fine start to the season, with sunshine, a great view of the rugged Sicilian coast, dolphins, a glassy blue sea and a light breeze. The sails were up and everything seemed to be working, though we did need the motor on most of the time, chugging away at low revs. At one point the smell of burning rubber raised anxiety levels, but it proved to be the new fan belt, which had worked loose and was promptly readjusted by il Capitano. At about the halfway mark of the passage, we met a fleet of thousands of little jellyfish with their bells the shape of perfect translucent sails, scudding along with the wind. A couple of feet below them streamed golden brown jellies with long trailing tentacles – some mysterious jelly migration was underway.

Sailing jellyfish

As the sun set we enjoyed our standby sailing meal of pressure-cooker chicken stew. The temperature dropped steadily and we put on extra clothes layer by layer, relaxing out in the cockpit under the full moon and the softly glowing sails. The AIS proved its value yet again as we dodged various vessels and heard on the VHF that a massive cargo ship was diverting to avoid us.

 

 We took turns to catch a bit of sleep and were pleased to see the volcanic island of Pantelleria rising steeply ahead as the sun rose. Around 0800 we tied up in the Nuovo Porto di Pantelleria, assisted by Leonardo the Harbourmaster and not at all by the highly unreliable bow-thruster.  (Actually, it can pretty much be relied on NOT to work at the critical moment.) We had a couple of hours sleep before attempting anything else.

Hot chicken stew

 

 

It proved to be almost impossible to get off the boat via the passareille as the dock was so high, so we launched Eileen, our dinghy, and tootled around to the Vecchio Porto which is closer to the town centre. The outboard didn’t sound too healthy so it was added to our list of things to check/fix once back in Licata. When they say “vecchio” here, they mean really old – the port housed the Punic fleet a couple of thousand years ago and there is still a line of rocks marking the ancient breakwater. It’s an attractive place; the water is clear and the volcanic soil is rich and well cultivated. There is a pleasant waterfront for the evening passegiata and the pace of life is relaxed. We enjoyed a wander around the town and an excellent fish dinner overlooking the old harbour. A grim note is the large pile of refugee boats rotting away near the new harbour – how desperate would you have to be to take to sea in some of these?

 

 

 

 

 

We had planned to leave for Tunisia the next day, but some instinct woke Terry about 1am and he decided this was our window. Any wind at all in the tiny marina space and we would have been in trouble.  At 01:30 we slipped out of the harbour in the bright moonlight with no wind and were suddenly greeted by 15 knots at the turn on the Heads .  We enjoyed five or six hours of perfect sailing conditions before the wind slackened as the sun rose. We motored the rest of the way, reaching the Tunisian fishing port of Kelibia at about 1030.

Sailing under a full moon

 

First impressions? Hot, dirty, busy, interesting… There was very little room amongst all the blue, white and red fishing boats of varying sizes, so we rafted up next to a big steel ketch, which was in turn rafted next to an even bigger motor boat undergoing a refit. Habib appeared to give us expert assistance – and we noticed him magically appear whenever a boat came in and needed to find a spot or have a line taken. It was quite an event getting on and off the boat, clambering over lifelines and from one vessel to the next, greeting people in a couple of different languages along the way.

First priority was checking in and getting all the paperwork in order to show that we had left the EU.  A feature of Tunisian ports is that the Foreigner Police are at your boat before you've finished tying up and this was no different.  Customs were also summoned and we completed formalities quite quickly.  Harbour fees for our three day stay turned out at 54 Tunisian Dinars in total, or something like $9 per day.

A bit like going from Greece to Turkey, travelling from Sicily to Tunisia we were struck by how hard everyone was working – no siestas or “domani” attitude here. Fishing boats coming and going, the fish markets in full swing, ship repairs, mending nets, boats being sanded and painted, building underway, buying and selling, deliveries, market stalls, taxis. The sights, sounds and smells took us back to our winter in Monastir; the mix of French and Arabic, the smell of mint tea and harissa, the headscarves, and the donkey carts jostling with brand new Citroens.

View of Kelibia Harbour from the fort

Pride in the boats, but little care for the sea

 



The one thing that really upsets me, however, is the total disregard people have for the ocean environment. Sure the Med has been a dumping ground for God-knows-what for thousands of years, but at least it was all organic. And why is it that fishing harbours and fishermen are the worst? You’d imagine that people who make their living from the sea would show a bit more respect for it, but no – every vessel that went out left behind a trail of plastic rubbish, bits of net, waste fish and a greasy slick of fuel, oil or something worse. Here begins my Clean Up the Med campaign, which consists of wearing slogan T shirts, picking up bags and bottles on my kayak runs and ranting in this blog!

Anyway, we used the opportunity of being in Kelibia to visit the ancient site of Kerkouane nearby. The town was sacked and pillaged by the Romans when they destroyed Carthage around 300 BC, but it was not resettled so quite a lot remains of the Carthaginian buildings, along with interesting artefacts found in the town and its necropolis. You can walk right around the streets of the town, observing its homes, artisan quarters and water system. Many of the homes have intact bathrooms with well designed baths for hygiene and relaxation. The town has an idyllic location beside the ocean, with gardens and lawns maintained by a team of local workers – it’s highly recommended for a pleasant and interesting day out.

We stocked up on a few specialties – big, cheap cans of Tunisian tuna, harissa paste, almonds, sweet local bananas – and refuelled while there was no wind in the early morning (though opening times on the fuel dock appear to be ‘suggested opening times’only.)  The fuel cost was 1.25Tunisian Dinars per litre, or 0.61c, a big saving on EU prices.

As we went to present ourselves to the Police to get our passports stamped, we were informed that we had to have a tax stamp of 30TD per person affixed before we could be allowed to go.  We were not informed of this until the last minute, and could have picked these stamps up any time in the three days we were there, as we were quite close to the Tax Office regularly.  But no, nobody thought to mention it and we had a mad scramble in a taxi to get the stamps.  Unfortunately, the Tax Office closes at 16:30 and despite our very courageous taxi driver berating the old grump who ran the Office, he refused to provide the stamps.  Luckily, one of the junior employees advised the driver that a Tabac shop in town carried these things so it was off there via an ATM to pick a couple up, at a slight premium to the 30TD.  Problem solved, thanks to our quick-thinking driver who was well rewarded.

Our last official encounter was an evening visit from Customs just prior to departure. All  visiting boats are inspected, particularly for stowaways but also for the usual stuff – cigarettes, alcohol, drugs, firearms. We didn’t have a strong sense that we were being shaken down, but the inspector did dwell on my stash of Italian wine for a while so I asked in French if he liked wine and he said his wife did, so we gave him a bottle as a ‘gift’. Then we were free to go – in fact we had to go at once!! Before we could sneak any illegals on board.

So it was back to sea, slipping out from between yachts rafted either side, and making directly for Licata, 140 nautical miles almost directly due east. We started out well, motoring with assistance from the 10 knot breeze, then zipping along under sail as the north-west wind increased to 20 – 25 knots. This was great, but as we all know, nothing lasts forever. At about 0530 the wind and sea really picked up and we were a little slow to reef the sails. I wasn’t strong enough to winch in the fiercely flapping genoa, and one of its whipping sheets took a great jagged piece out of the clear window of the dodger – a good lesson to never get in the way of uncontrolled lines! The wind was now 40 – 45 knots with quite a high following sea, so Terry pretty much had to hand steer the next fifty miles, surfing down the waves and trying to avoid the sneaky sets that hit side-on. Meanwhile I was down trying to clean up and stow stuff that hadn’t been prepared well enough for these conditions – another lesson there.

Finally the wind eased a bit as sunset approached, and we saw the very welcome heads of the breakwater at Licata ahead. It was wonderful to get into calm water at last, and to tie up safely on our dock. There was a party in progress, but somehow we weren’t quite up to it. I can’t actually recall anything after readying Common Sense for docking, so I guess it mostly involved sleep! So now we have a few fix-ups and repairs before we head off again in a week or so...

 

 

Time to go....[Terry]

The entrance to Licata.....and the exit

 

We’re almost ready to slip lines and head out into the wide world of the Med for another year’s cruising.  I always have sleepless nights before we leave a long-term port as I run through all the things I haven’t done and whether they matter or not.  Once we hit the heads of any harbour, all care is gone and I am excited to be on our way to St Somewhere.

Since we arrived back on board, we have had the engine serviced, the steering checked, the spreaders inspected by the Admiral, a new gauge fitted to the aft holding tank, a replacement bow thruster/windlass battery installed, an Amp gauge for the wind generator fitted, a few more LEDs replacing a few more old bulbs, a proper US-to-EU gas bottle filling gauge arrived, and the chain stripper refitted to the front of the windlass.

It was a bit of luck that I got Giovanni and Elijah from the boat yard to come to do the engine.  Mostly I wanted someone experienced to look for things I wouldn’t notice.  Sure enough, when Giovanni was changing the alternator belt he heard that a bearing had gone and it was headed for kaputsville.  Alternator off to Giuseppe’s dad to have the bearings replaced.  A good find.  Belt changed, filters changed, oil changed, steering cables checked, gear changer and accelerator cables checked.  All good from Giovanni’s point of view - €150 for him, €40 for Giuseppe’s dad for the alternator.  Good value for money as they do good stuff.

Our starboard spreader is noticeably higher than our port spreader.  This caused a good deal of consideration, with questions back to the Catalina 42 Owner’s association plus other knowledgeable friends.  Carol went up in the climber to have a little look-see and took a few photos.  With the benefit of these, we determined that the gap which we can see between the inner edge of the spreader and the mast has actually been there since at least when we were in St George’s Dinghy Club in Bermuda, so we’ve crossed the Atlantic like that, and sailed all across the Med, up and down, and it hasn’t moved.  So we’ve decided to leave well enough alone.

Giuseppe came to fit the new amp gauge for the wind generator, then back again to help with the new gauge on the aft holding tank.  I fitted the sensor strips but I needed him to sort out the cable that sends the info back to the reader, as it had rotted away in its dank environment.  The nasty part of the exercise is telling the sensor what “full” is and what “empty” is, neither of which can be determined without having the top of the tank open.  Still, it’s done now.  Giuseppe also started to check out why our bow thruster was again not working.  Luckily, the cause was determined in minutes and, as usual, was the remote control.  Another €30 for Giuseppe, and again well spent.

With the help of Miroslav, we found a source in Germany for a fill gauge to a US propane bottle.  If only we had this three years ago we wouldn’t have had to do things like sail from the Bay of Marathon, to Piraeus just to get gas.  Being German, the guys who sold us the fitting added, free, a connector to go from their German tip to make it an Italian tip, because they saw it was being shipped to Italy.  Nothing quite like that German efficiency.  Now, Gustaf, a Finn, but with a US boat, ourselves and Geoff from Tweed Heads all can get our US bottles filled. (Geoff and Pauline on Southern Accent, also bought their boat up in Annapolis where we bought ours).

The chain stripper was problematic.  When it snapped off a few years ago, there was, of course, a substantial amount of force applied to it before the metal sheared.  As a consequence, one of the two screws was bent in its hole and was resisting extraction.  I tried solvents and then an impact driver.  I gave up on the impact driver when it became obvious it wasn’t going to move and all I was doing was driving it around in the same thread and not extracting it at all.  Enter Geoff.  With a flat screwdriver shank, very large, and a pair of Alligator grips, he just took the strain and turned the thing out.  I should mention here that Geoffrey is one giant of a man who is enormously powerful.

Geoff and Pauline

The stripper should make anchor retrieval a lot easier this year.

The outboard now sits on a new support board on the stern – the original finally cracked in two after thousands of miles of stress and strain.  I’ve added stainless steel plates to either side of this one to provide strength and bolted them through in 9 places.  Hard to see it flexing now.

We’ve made a resolution that we will play more seriously with light winds this year to avoid that terrible sound of the engine on for hours  We have our new pole to pole out the genoa, and the spinnaker is going to live tied to the mast in its bag, ready to go up in a flash.  We have made up dedicated sheet/block sets for both situations so there’s not delay in finding any “bits” to run either one out.
 

It was our neighbour, Marina’s birthday yesterday.  She and her hubby Lars have a large powerboat with two magnificent Caterpillar engines, truly a wonder to listen to when Lars starts them up

Lars paying attention to Marina's speech (in case there are questions afterward!)

We sang Happy Birthday to Marina in 10 languages!

 We had a BBQ which got quite out of hand when some people who should have known better started to do feats of athletic prowess that should best be done in the a.m. after stretching instead of 11p.m. after many bottles of wine and beer.  Many slept in for a very long time this morning.  

The birthday girl, Marina from the Marina

Boys being boys

 It’s the end of the month tomorrow and a large number of cruisers will be leaving, as the winter contracts expire.  There will be equally as many who will stay a month or more extra for one reason or another but most will be heading out to cruising grounds in Greece and Malta, and also up into the Adriatic to Venice and over to Croatia and Albania.  We’re stuck because the wind is from the West and we’re trying to get to Pantelleria and on to Tunisia to reset our VAT tax clock.  Everyone else has the wind abeam when they turn out of the heads here but we’ll have it on the nose and 30 hours of that is not something we’re keen to do.  Maybe Sunday? Maybe Monday?

It will be sad to leave Sicily.  My impression from when I was very young, gained from my Sicilian school friends, was that it was bleak and unsupportive.  That’s certainly not the case, as there is superb soil, plenty of water, and the food, wine and meat are magnificent.  The people are both proud and also welcoming.  They are a delight to live among.  There is always the undercurrent of the “southern disease” but on an interpersonal level it is a wonderful place to live for a while.

 Licata by night

 

Montalbano

As many of you know, Terry is a major fan of Montalbano, a Sicilian detective series on SBS Television in Australia. In fact, one of our reasons for choosing Licata as our winter port was its proximity to many of the locations used in the series, as well as the birthplace of Andrea Camilleri who wrote the novels on which it is based. There is huge local enthusiasm for Camilleri and Montalbano: I think Sicilians appreciate having their island associated with a good guy for a change, rather than being known only as the home of the Mafia.

Back in November we took a trip to Agrigento, with a side visit to Porto Empedocle which is the setting for many of the books and close to Camilleri’s former home in the country. After much debate and discussion amongst various locals, we established that the old man is still alive (viva, non morte!), over eighty years of age, living in Rome and has another Montalbano novel coming out this year. There are statues in the town to both the author and the hero of his books.
Last week, Terry and several fellow enthusiasts organised a “Montelbano Tour” to several of the significant TV series locations. We tried to do it via a commercial tour site, but they didn’t bother to respond to repeated messages so we opted to DIY. We were to share a hire car with friends Bernard and Lora from La Lisa, while Ginny and Guy of Kirsty II and their visitors took another.
Unfortunately, our “hire car” which was somebody’s Zio’s car, had a dicky battery and wouldn’t start.  We’re sure they knew this as there were jumper leads in the boot!

As a backstop, we went in Bernard and Lora’s van.  Ok for Bernard and Terry in the front but not so good for Lora and Carol in the back.  Still, we had a bit of fun back there with a running commentary on the scenery coming from the front.

First stop was the castle of Donna Fugata. First glances would suggest that this castle has something to do with a Lady who Flees or is fleeing.  Nope, it is actually a derivative of an Arabic word that passed into the Sicilian dialect as Ronnafuata that means Source of Health.  To confuse matters, there actually was in residence the widowed Queen Bianca of Navarra who was fleeing a sod who needed to marry her to become King of Sicily but she wasn’t having any of that.  The Arabic/Sicilian predates her by a long way.  The castle was sold to the District of Ragusa some 20+ years ago and is very popular with locals and even northerners on holiday.  The grounds are very nice indeed.

Don Balduccio's Terrace

The Montalbano link?  In the series, it is the stronghold of one Balduccio Sinagra, the ageing but still revered Mafia boss of the region around Montalbano’s territory and Montalbano occasionally visits Don Balduccio on the terrace.

Next it was on to Ragusa to the restaurant A Rusticana, Montalbano’s eating house.  Old Ragusa is a locals-only car zone so we had to park a long way from the restaurant and walk down something like 3,000 steps, then up a similar amount.

Ragusa

The restaurant itself is a simple Trattoria so it doesn’t pride itself on anything in particular but what we had, all eight of us, was very nice indeed. 

There are photos and autographs on one wall of members of the cast (unfortunately, no pictures of Catarella!)

Lora and Terry outside Montalbano's restaurant

From Ragusa, it was off to Scicli, a very nice little city indeed, called by one Italian writer the most beautiful city on earth.   The town hall in Scicli is used as the site of Montalbano’s boss’s office, the pompous  Bonetti-Alderighi, the Questore of Montelusa. We asked the lady managing the office if she had ever met Luca Zingaretti, the actor who plays Montalbano. She fluttered a hand over her heart and said simply, 'Si!'

Old Sicilian men watching the world go by

 We were put back by our earlier mishaps and didn’t have time available to do all we wanted but it was nice to be able to visit some of the places we’ve seen in the series.  Ragusa and Scicli are very elegant cities to visit – no street rubbish and very few dogs (and dogs' doings).

Scicli

Unfortunately we enjoyed Ragusa so much that we ran out of time to visit Montalbano's villa at Punta Secca, but it's important to leave something for next time...

The Questore's Office with Terry sitting in Montalbano's accustomed chair

 

 

 

 

Palermo

We caught the inter-city bus directly from Licata to Palermo, capital of Sicily. The trip takes three hours, but the buses are very comfortable, the drivers skilled at negotiating the unpredictable traffic, and it’s an opportunity to take in some of the beautiful scenery. At this time of the year, early spring, the countryside is vividly green, the fruit trees are in blossom and wild flowers splash patches of yellow and crimson across the fields.

Palermo has lots of accommodation options, from exclusive hotels to B&Bs. This time we rented an apartment, Casa Vacanza Bellini, in the old town in what appears to be the Bangladeshi neighbourhood. The extra facilities enabled us to do a bit of our own cooking (with produce from the famous markets) and to wash clothes rather than packing a lot of stuff. It was a perfect location for exploring this beautiful and historic city.

 

Pretoria Fountain in the 'Square of Shame'

Like most of the Med, Sicily has been settled since human history began, and its position in the middle of the Middle Sea has made it a centre of wealth, power, culture and conflict throughout the last 5000 or so years. Palermo itself was an important port for the Phoenicians, followed by the Greeks, Carthaginians, Romans, Arabs, Normans, Spanish and Bourbons prior to the unification of Italy. Some of the oldest and most beautiful buildings date from the Norman occupation, making them nearly 900 years old. The amusingly named Roger the Norman was responsible for many of these, including the breathtaking Palatine Chapel. Almost every square foot of the chapel is covered in mosaics depicting Biblical themes, in rich blues and golds. The figures are Medieval in style, but much more fluid and expressive than the icons of the Eastern (Greek) church, and they are in perfect condition. It is one of the most beautiful religious artworks I have ever seen. (To quote Terry, “It beats the crap out of the Sistine Chapel.”) The Norman Palace and Monreale Cathedral (built by Roger’s son William) are also spectacular and well worth a visit. You begin to imagine these Norman Kings as enlightened and cultivated leaders until you read that Roger and William shared another hobby of personally devising new and excruciating tortures for their prisoners.

 Mosaics in the Palatine Chapel

 

We toured the lovely Massimo Teatro, where the last part of The Godfather III was filmed (Michael Corleone’s daughter is shot on these steps.) The Royal Box and antechamber never served the King of the time – he said the theatre was far too grand for a second-rate city like Palermo! Sadly, no performances were running while we were in town so we’ll have to make do with Cruisers’ Monday Night Singalong at the Las Vegas Bar in Licata.

 Steps of the Massimo

 

 The royal box - Al Pacino sat here

Palermo is a great town to walk around. It has the usual cafes, bars and restaurants, including some excellent ones representing the migrant groups who have settled there. The shops are fascinating. All the Italian and international brand stores are there, but also lots of tiny, specialised shops – the cravat shop, the beret shop, the puppet mender, the man who crafts inlaid wood, the artisan chocolates, the hand-made baby clothes – and the coffin maker right next door. The public buildings are stately and there are gardens, fountains and a fine waterfront.

Crafting marquetry 

 

Puppet maker's workshop

 

 Majestic ficus tree

The harbour

 

On Sunday we made our way to the famous weekly market, which took up about six full streets – the biggest and best market we’ve yet seen. The fresh produce was amazing, with oranges, strawberries (four euros per kilo!!), and winter vegetables in season. I’ve developed a serious wild asparagus habit, which fortunately is quite sustainable at two euros for a good sized bunch. It will be hard to see the season end, but I will try to console myself with cherries…  Meat, fish, cheeses and fresh pasta - so much to choose from! We bought what we needed, along with a bottle of local wine and enjoyed a fine home-cooked, market-fresh dinner.

 

 

 Sunday market scenes

I was curious to see the Cappuccin Mausoleum – a bit macabre, perhaps but I have rather a fascination with funeral rites and traditions. You learn a lot about a culture from the way it manages death. We made our way to the monastery by taxi as it is a bit out of town, then took the stairs down into the half-lit catacombs. The mummified bodies are either tied upright in niches, or laid out in shelves cut into the rock. All are dressed in the clothing of their time – the monks in their simple hessian robes, the priests in the rags of their regalia, the workmen in the uniforms of their trade, the ladies in remnants of their finery and the children and infants in lovingly stitched robes and bonnets. Most are little more than gaping skulls and skeletons, but some are better preserved, with skin, hair and even eyelashes. One child, known as “the Princess” sleeps perfectly preserved in her sealed glass coffin. A stroll through the various chambers (“the infants”, “the virgins”…) is a powerful Memento Mori which is exactly what the church intended, “to this end we all must come”. The effect was spoiled somewhat by a group of American tourists, laughing, joking and talking so loudly that the attendant had to settle them down. This was obviously their way of dealing with anxiety – as I said, you learn a lot about a culture from the way it handles death.
 

The catacombs (from a postcard - no photos permitted)

 



Another pleasant bus ride back to Licata, despite extensive roadworks, and now it’s time to do those last few jobs before setting sail again.