Normally, I fail to designate states in my headlines and opt for the country alone. Poor identification in geo-political terms, but being proper would demand even more cumbersome headlines for my travel posts. In this case, I’m breaking with tradition and am ignoring Italy because Sicily seems almost another country.
Sicily hangs close to the toe of Italy’s boot as though a ball kicked off the mainland, floating amid the waters of the Tyrrhenian and Ionian Seas and the rest of the Mediterranean. Through the centuries, the island often fell under the rule of other powers than that of the mainland.
Bear in mind that the Kingdom of Italy was not formed until 1861. This brought Sicily into the fold, but the region became one of five in Italy that was granted semi-autonomy. Whether it is this independent attitude or the waves of other peoples who occupied the island throughout its history, Sicily feels different.
Our first stop was Siracusa, on the eastern side. Adding to the sense of being on an isolated island, we spent almost all of our time the historic center of the city, or Citta Vecchia, the tiny island of Ortigia. Easily reached by crossing one of the bridges on foot from the main part of the island, this intimate island is a little more than half a mile long and about half of that wide, meaning it’s impossible to walk very far without hitting water.
And the views are stunning. Ever-changing skies and water color, varying from one side to the other. Vivid sunsets (Probably sunrises as well, but my experience at that time of morning is lacking. I tended to perambulate along the sea walls during the apertivo hour.).
These photos were all taken on the island of Ortigia. While they probably seem repetitive to you, these images have been were culled from about 50 we snapped (requiring several Campari spritzes) and seem the only way to convey that island feeling. The mountains in the distance are beyond the “new” part of Siracusa.
Portions of the clear waters shimmered as emerald green as the stones in my wedding ring.
Postcards from Barton Springs 
Very interesting; nicely done!
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My uncle and the crew of his Wellington were killed there bombing the rail yard on the night Sicily was invaded, 80 years ago next month. They were never found, much to his parents’ anguish.
Recently an italian scuba diver found the wreck about 100 yards off the beach. I will be staying with the diver in a few weeks, and we will be commemorating some brave young men, who never returned to Australia, Canada, Scotland or England.
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When we were in Sicily, among the numerous public holidays celebrated in Palermo was Liberation Day, April 25, to mark Italy’s official expulsion, with the Allies’ major assistance, of Hitler’s forces. In my eyes, they seem to regard the Allies’ “invasion” with extreme gratitude. Know your trip will be particularly meaningful for you. Hope you will come back later and comment about your experiences.
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