On the last day of our final road-trip through Sicily, we drove a few kilometers up the coast from Catania to Taormina, the island’s most popular beach resort. Word of its charm had reached our ears from just about everyone we’d come in contact with: friends, strangers in bars, neighbors, Twitter acquaintances. Even my grandmother called to say that we should really visit Taormina. She’s never even been to Sicily and she’s been dead for ten years! Phone calls from beyond the grave are pretty persuasive: we had to go.
One of the most photographed objects in Palermo is the giant, snow-white fountain in the Piazza Pretoria, just southeast of the Quattro Canti. The fountain sits in front of City Hall and has become a symbol of governmental corruption. Disgust with Palermo’s legendary malfeasance, in addition to the fountain’s abundant nudity, are the two reasons that Plaza Pretoria is known among citizens as the Plaza of Shame (Piazza della Vergogna).
If you don’t want your jaw to smack painfully against the ground, you’d do well to wear a tight chin strap when visiting the Cathedral of Monreale. During our tour, my mouth was wide open, rivulets of drool escaping my gaping jowl. But I didn’t care, and I doubt anyone was paying attention. To be inside the Monreale’s cathedral and concentrate on anything other than its shimmering beauty is nearly impossible.