In Siracusa

This will have to be a two-fer. I ate dinner late yesterday, and today, for that matter, and was too tired from a great day in the Valley of the Temples to describe what all I did and saw. Today I bused it from Agrigento to the Catania Airport and there caught another bus to Siracusa, interesting drive, kind of tiring, but I'm here, last long stay of this trip.

Valley of the Temples. Where can I begin? I took a city bus to the temples, a mini-adventure in its own right. I asked two drivers about where the #1 bus would take me, but their dialects were so strong, I couldn't figure out what they were saying. But all agreed this was the right bus, I had my ticket and so, let's go. "That will be 10 Euro for the advise," one of the drivers said, and slapped me on the shoulder. Sicilians like to joke, they can be fast and sharp. I get on, things are going good until what seems like an entire elementary school gets on the bus. They're cute little kids, but how am I gonna see my stop, where is my stop? The driver pulls over, waves to me and I wade through all of the kids who come up to my shoulders, "Scusa, scusa, scusa," all the way to the exit.

Now I mentioned wanting to know more about the fertility goddesses. So it turns out the bus let me off at Gate 5, right near the remnants of the Dioscuros temple that overlooks the field where the Greek women performed their rites. Gotta hand it to the park organizers, the descriptive texts at each of the sites was really informative, so much so that I took as many pix of the sign boards as I did the sites themselves. So here's the story about the fertility rites. The women march in a procession, singing and dancing and carrying pigs to the sacred grounds, where they throw the pigs into a pit and then for three days, they sing and dance in honor of Demeter, the fertility god, and Persephone, who I think is Demeter's daughter, who is kidnapped by the god of the underworld. The rites of the women ensure that he allows her to return back above ground, bringing crops with her. The site, and the rituals, predate the Greek settlements, so it's interesting that the Greeks adapted an earlier, Neolithic rite (agriculture was the high point of the Neolithic, I think) and gave it their own religious overlay. So, back to the pit with the pigs. The pigs are slaughtered, roasted and a big feast is held at the end of rites. All that remains of this history are a few holes in the ground where small statuettes and ceramic offerings were hidden for the two goddesses.

The day was sunny, actually got warm at some point in the day, and I really enjoyed myself, walking to the sites, chatting with people on the way -- saw the French couple who were staying at the b&b with me, met two Spanish ladies, I took a picture for them, took another picture for a Rick Steves' tour group outside of the mammoth Temple of Concord. The entire valley site is a bit of a mystery. The temples, most of which were just piles of decaying columns and suggestions of floor plans, all have names that may or may not reflect who they were built for; i.e., the Dioscuros, which I believe are the Gemini, Castor and Pollux, probably have nothing to do with the original temple. But the dating is interesting. The temple of Hercules, the earliest, is from the 6th century B.C., from the time of the original Greek settlements. Of course there were other people living on these sites first (perhaps those fertility rites were ones their women practiced), but the Greeks were determined to build colonies and they forced the early folks out (or turned them into slaves). There is a long history of warfare between the Greeks and the Carthaginians, the Phoenicians who settled in North Africa, built Carthage and established colonies on the Eastern side of Sicily. Some of the temples and the urban environment around them were constructed with the labor of defeated Carthagaginians. Then, of course, the Romans came around and that was the end of the Greek story.

I also walked to the archeology museum, a good climb up a steep highway, where there was an amazing collection of vases from the 6th, 5th and 4th centuries, and all kinds of other artefacts, many of which came from the Hellenistic settlement across the highway from the museum (3rd and 2nd centuries, after which the Roman's put an end to the Greek settlements in Sicily). Still having trouble distinguishing the stylistic differences between the different era -- some feature black figures on reddish grounds, others reverse the process, forming the shape of the figure with surrounding black on white or red clay and then drawing in the details in delicate, expressive lines that remind me of Art Nouveau. The graphic style is fascinating. The details on the black vases are produced by incising, literally drawing with a sharp tool on the black paint, and strengthening the design with selectively placed white paint. Very, very clean and expressive. Tales from Homer, the myths, many domestic scenes (aristocratic women "at their toilet" -- gotta love that one!). And some of these vases are quite large, with very different scenes on the front and back. In addition to the vases, there are rows and rows of glass cases housing fragments of statues, figurines, pot shards, pins, on and on. Overwhelming.

So now for the Hellenistic quarter. I read that you can still see floor mosaics in the ruins of the houses. But not on this trip. The gate was locked. And so I walked back to the Valley of the Temples and had to rely on the good graces of the guy who originally told me how to get to the museum. Turns out, once you leave, you can't get back in. A little fact no one tells you. But he was good, he waved me in. So, can I get to the Hellenistic quarter from here? No, he says. When I ask him why, he shrugs his shoulders. They are under restoration and lack of staff. Really too bad, I wanted to see those mosaics. But undaunted, I hiked up yet another steep road to get to the Temple of Concord, one of the few temples that has a documented name. It fared better than the others, in part, because it was turned into a church at some point. The walls of the cella, the big room that is the inner heart of the temples, were cut into arches to form a nave, the main space of a church, with passageways on either side. So like the fertility rites, the traditions of one people are carried on by others as they borrow and adapt what works for them.

Back in Agrigento, I treated myself to a big meal, pasta with seafood, a green salad and grilled vegetables and for desert, some cassata, a Sicilian cake made with flower and ricotta cheese. Had fun with the waiter, who wanted to talk about American politics. The restaurant was fun. I was the only one there for a while and everyone once in a while, I'd see the cook and this little boy, his grandson I guess, playing outside in the street, laughing, grandpa really indulging his grandson. Really sweet. And the waiter and the cook would get into singing fragments of something back and forth at each other. Sicilians seem to like to laugh and sing and harass each other. I saw a lot of horseplay and good-natured teasing.

So this morning, finished packing, shared photographs with the French couple -- they took photos of me and I shot them -- and found out they were going to Siracusa, same shuttling bus route as me, only an hour earlier. Maybe I'll see them over the next couple of days. My new friends from California are here, too, but I haven't heard from them.

Had a good, brief conversation with the young woman who handles breakfast in the morning and preps the rooms. I asked her if she worked any place else and she said she only had this job and she was lucky because there is little work for young Italians. I asked her if she had gone to the university and she explained that after Italian students finish their compulsory education, they have to make a choice that often determines what they will do for the rest of their lives. They can opt for university or for trade education. She choose trade and now there is no work. I've heard this story before. Young Americans are also facing limited prospects in the work world, but there is still some flexibility, if you have good skills across disciplines, you are more likely to find a job than if you are a specialist. Of course, you'll probably get worked to death in the process.

OK, bags packed and hike over to the bus terminal. Turns out our bus is one of those big two deckers and I got one of the front windows for a beautiful view of back country Sicily. The island has been the bread basket for the rest of Italy since the time the Romans overran the Greeks. So there are lots of open, green spaces and rolling hills, lots of farms, few forests or uncultivated spaces, and every once in a while, a hill town. The Greeks built their cities on the hill tops and we passed Gela and Enna, two very important Greek settlements.

Did I mention there was no bathroom on the bus, and that we didn't stop anywhere long enough for rest stops? It got a little stressful, especially after the first two hours. It was a great drive, but really, no rest stops?

I made good time at the Catania Airport. Only stood outside for about 20 minutes before the Siracusa shuttle showed up. A bus full of college students and a couple crusty looking, older tourists like me. Never did find out why some many university types, although Easter is coming and perhaps this was the beginning of spring break.

Got settled in my room, yet another slightly musty, funky b&b that has seen better days. That being said, I really enjoyed myself in Palermo, so we'll see what happens in Siracusa. Did find a great laundry mat, finally got some of those socks and underwear cleaned properly. Guy who runs the place visited Joshua Tree and wanted to talk about his experience in the Mojave desert. That was fun.

Tomorrow I go for an Italian lesson and a walking tour with a young woman from a language school here in Siracusa. At one point, when I didn't exactly know what I was going to do on this trip (was that ever possible?!), I contacted a language school about maybe taking classes. When that wasn't going to work, I suggested maybe one class, combined with a walking tour of the historic district and my contact at the school for someone to work with me. Kind of wish I'd done that at the beginning of the trip, especially when I was really struggling with Italian. Now I'm tired and my Italian is breaking down again because I'm exhausted.

And staying up late to do these blogs doesn't help. What's the matter with me? Why can't I just wrap this up and go to sleep? You know, I think that's just what I'm a gonna do. Ciao!