Syracuse had been under the control of the Greeks, the Romans, the Byzantines and the Arabs, but was always home to a healthy Jewish population. As in many of the European cities to which Jews emigrated following the diaspora, the ruling hierarchies were grudgingly tolerant of them and their religion. That is, until the arrival of the Spanish who decreed the total expulsion of Jews from their kingdom, in 1492.
The moment you cross the bridge onto the island Ortigia, where the ancient center of Syracuse is found, you're confronted with what the word "ancient" truly means. The ruins of the Temple of Apollo greet visitors at the island's gateway, and serve as the perfect introduction to a city rich in myth and history.
Once upon a time, Syracuse was the most mightiest city-state in the world. Ruled by famous tyrants like Dionysius the Elder, and home to Archimedes, one of history's greatest thinkers, the power of Syracuse extended far beyond the Greek Empire, to which it belonged. The city's influence waned only during the Arab occupation of Sicily, when the capital was moved to Palermo.
Among Palermo's many qualities is an air of mystery, especially towards dusk. Perhaps it's due to the city's deep and often troubled history, perhaps the unpolished instability of its streets. Bars can disappear from one day to the next, and new graffiti springs up frequently. Battered doors which were locked yesterday are open tonight, revealing strange courtyards. This city would make a perfect setting for a chilling film noir.
Almost exactly a kilometer outside of the town center, on the road to Monreale, we find the remains of the ancient pleasure palace of the Norman Kings called La Cuba. Built in 1180 for William II, La Cuba was originally the focal of a large garden, surrounded by a man-made lagoon. The pictures which imagine it in its full glory are wondrous, but little remains today apart from a hollow shell.
Thinking about Sicilian food nearly always sets the stomach to growling. Perfectly-baked pizzas, al dente pasta smothered in a rich ragú, fried arancine, swordfish filets, cannoli, pani c'a meusa. Mmmmm... Hold on, wait just a second. That last one, I don't recognize that. "Oh no? Well then, my friend, we must educate you. Pani c'a meusa!"
Palermo's football team plays in the top flight of one of the world's best leagues, Italy's Serie A. In the last few years, U.S. Città di Palermo has become one of the more feared sides in the country. This season, they had won all five games at home, in the Stadio Renzo Barbera. We went to a Sunday afternoon match against Fiorentina to see if they could continue the streak.
During our day trip to Sicily's northwestern extreme, we only had a couple hours to explore Trapani. That's not nearly enough time to do justice to this city of 70,000, but it was winter. Days are shorter, and we also had Erice to get to. So we confined ourselves to Trapani's historic center, which begins as the city branches off from the island and becomes a narrow strip of land jutting into the sea.
Cozy and familiar, with great prices and a friendly waitstaff, Il Vicolo is a lovely little seafood restaurant in the southwest corner of the Albergheria. Don't let the neighborhood's relative grime keep you away.
Sipping on a cappuccino in the Piazza Rivoluzione, the place where the 1848 uprising against the French began, I came to the realization that despite my angry mood and annoying stress of everyday life, things could be worse.
