Where there is no temple there shall be no homes.

TS Eliot said that, not me. I said "More effing temples!". Marjan said "Don't make me out to be an idiot this time!"

But first our wild night. No not that! It was blowing a gale overnight. So much so it woke us both around 2AM. We were perfectly snug in our villa but could hear the wind and the rubbish bins banging against the garage wall.  We both read for a while as sleeping was not an option.

When we woke is was totally calm and gorgeous, and Marjan asked why I had not booked the house directly over the sea. Having no good answer I added this to the list of sins I apologise for each morning.

We hit a traffic jam heading to Agrigento, but still managed to get there before it became too chaotic. We were amusing ourselves by laughing at Jamie Lee's (our GPS) take on place and street names. Even Marjan trying to be outrageous could not match JL's take. Our last instruction before getting to our destination was to turn right onto Dirty Dean. I have looked at maps and tried all sorts of thoughts but nothing comes close to Dirty Dean.

We declined the taxi to the Temple of Juno at the top of the hill and decide the walk up and down would be good for our muscle tone, and cheek colour.

The Valley of the Temples is an old Greek town, settled directly from Corinth, we walked mostly along the ceremonial axis, hence the temples. The Romans came a bit later and used the temples for their own gods at various stages, but later settlers (Arabs, Normans, Spaniards preferred the higher ground where modern Agrigento now stands).

The most impressive temple was mere rubble but at 100m by 40m (roughly) it was the biggest in the west. I loved this column/statue of the god Jove that supposed supported the roof.

What is amazing us about these sites is the number of temples, they almost equal the number of churches in Erice......either very sinful or very holy.....or maybe both

We met a nice English couple and swapped photo duties. Hard to gauge from this, but we were actually surrounded by about 60 Spaniards chattering away and taking their own happy snaps.

The walk along the street of the dead with the tomb openings was a little creepy, and at times the crowds were intrusive. 200 people walking abreast along a path and do not get out of the way........we vacillated between rudeness and politeness......that is to say between me and Marjan. Eventually Marjan succumbed and walked behind me as I pushed through the maul.

The site is massive, they have great olive and almond groves and constant views back to the city, or surrounding towns and freeways. A concert was being planned hence the chairs and van. They are reintroducing a species of goats from Afghanistan first brought in by the Arabs.

The good thing about this site is it has plenty of shade.

whilst contemplating paleo christian tombs

.....or the difference between a capitol and capital....Morgan might like that one, given he is a column nut.

We dropped down into the gardens for a look as well, oranges, and quinces, and lemons, and limes, and all sorts of stuff. Including a paleo christian chapel dug into the cliff.

I cannot resist the old v new thing, and the trees looked stunning

Marjan broke the pattern and had a sleep this arvo whilst I went for a swim at our local beach. It is called Marina Bovo.  JL calls it Marina Bovo, I call it No Bovvo.

Giro turistico, mangiare, nuotare, ripetere

Sight see, eat, swim, repeat. Pretty much our Sicily holiday rhythm.

We woke, late, to overcast skies. Headed into Sciacca fo a look see, pronounced Shiaka. A town of 40,000 people. Half the size of Ballarat and less density according to wikipedia, hard to align with our experience. We arrived and parked near the thermal springs that helped establish this place around 500BC. Brutal concrete arts centre car park was filling fast.

We essentially did the tourist route up one road to the old town gate back along a parallel one. The place is a chaos of cars parked higgled piggledy, no footpaths, collapsing buildings, gorgeous ceramics and the occasional opening to the Mediterranean. We had morning tea of hot, fresh bread and grapes $(assume euro)1.9 well spent. We sat for a while in a shady spot, not many to be found, they seem to like their seats in the glaring sun, and watched a couple of municipal police raid a bar, have a coffee, argue with various people on the pavement whilst having a ciggie, ignore the car that drove onto the piazza to do a u turn....you know normal chaotic Italian life.

Italians seem to feel that you can park anywhere you want if one or more of the following conditions are met:

• you leave the car running;
• you have two wheels on the pavement (bye bye pavement);
• you are in a rush;
• you really want to.

Seriously, the cars are choking the city.

We really liked the ceramics, even the local school had some on the external wall. Some beautiful stuff being made in the shops. They called them laboratorios if they actually made stuff on site.

We ended up in the La Madre church where two gentlemen were carrying on an animated though quiet conversation. But under a watchful eye.

Eventually gravity dragged us down to the harbour. Sciacca may have been a spa town. It is now a major fishing port. It has a significant fleet bringing in fresh fish every day.

We walked along the harbour and eventually we both got totally fed up. The effing rubbish everywhere is an utter disgrace. The pier and water is littered with stuff, every wayside stop is piled with rubbish, a seat overlooking the sea is surrounded by a sea of debris. The beach is dotted with as many butts as pebbles. Do they NOT see it? It is driving us a little nuts. We love a lot of what we are experiencing, but the litter, and the rubbish dumping, is taking its toll. Sorry, had to get that off my chest.

We then walked around the docks area, the normal Italian contrasts, pretty sights, piles of rubbish.

We walked around to the recreational marina, where we were not let into private clubs that have restaurants along the pier looking back to town. Oh well,  we found a trattoria that we had heard was good value for money. Again we feasted on sea food. Marjan could not quite bring herself to bite off the baby octopus' head, but everything else was very nice (misto da mare, pasta a la sarde, calamari a la griglia). The grilled radicchio lettuce may be an acquired taste.  A family place. Nonno sat at the front table, joined by son and a salesman for some business, son waiting tables, Nonna in the kitchen, Mamma came in at lunch with the three girls, proceeded to rearrange the place and order her husband around, the girls sat with Nonno and had their lunch while he doted. We ate and watched and the rubbish was forgotten among the taste of our food and the aromas around us.

Back up to the car with an icecream for company...it was a hard climb back with full bellies and hot sun. If we stay here too long they will need to ship us back by boat.

Marjan drove, which meant the chatter was NSFW. Suffice to say she is not a fan of Italian drivers....regardless of the direction they are coming from. She is particularly not a fan of bus drivers who pass her and stress her out with their shenanigans.

Of course we found a beach, and had a swim  (bloody butts) and felt all cool and relaxed.

We are currently cooking some fresh vegetables grown on site and presented to us by Pino on our arrival. A simple dinner will have to do, we are too undressed to go out again.

Magna Graeca

Our last morning in Scopello.......and well.....another beautiful sunrise and off to Selinunte.

Selinunte is another archaeological site, this one on the south coast and this one truly and totally Greek. A part of the Magna Graecia expansion of Greece along the south of Italy. We drove through truly wonderful Sicilian countryside full of vines and olive groves with a shallow descent from the mountains in the centre to the southern part of the island.

Selinunte is set by the sea on the hills between two rivers. It is quite an extensive site and I would have loved to have  my daughters, grandsons and Joel and Morgan chatting history and architecture with me. Instead I had Marjan just beaming at her surroundings saying "Wow!" a lot.

We started at the eastern temples, the main one of which, was controversially reconstructed from the materials on site in the late 1950's. Maybe controversial but so interesting to see and walk among.

We could walk, at least there were no signs forbidding it, right into the middle of the rubble, and we did.

It really was quite awesome. Anyway we walked to the western site, down hill and up hill, where there are more temples. These are surrounded by the city walls and the city stretches out behind it. Two major roads quartering the city and the others at regular intervals. we walked the street to the northern gate then along the inside of the eastern wall, checking out the small openings as we went.

The Selunites and the Segestans did not get on and got into various bits of bother, including at various stages Phoenicians, Athenians, Spartans, Carthaginians and any other thugs roaming the mid Mediterranean.

The walk back to the car was hot and sweaty.......have I mentioned the humidity?

SIDENOTE: The humidity.

It is really humid. So humid in fact that electronics seem to suffer. Marjan's phone just went all pale and pink. It has been recovering in a bag full of rice and seems to be getting better. My phone will not register touches on the screen half the time and then sometimes just goes and does what it wants for a while. My camera stops focusing at times and I have to take the battery out wipe it down and put it back in. It is really humid.

We have developed strategies: do not put phone in pocket; switch camera off after each shot; rest phone in sun to dry off; etc etc....but the google phone risotto is our favourite.

ENDSIDENOTE:

We were hungry and hot, and this is where some of Marjan's Sicily planning came in. We were not all that far from Da Vittorio in Porto Palo. It was mentioned as a great place to eat in a food/travel doco Marjan found. A mere half hour away. Let's go we said. So we put the coordinates into Jaime Lee and off we set..........now it was our navigation subsystem that was having humidity humpeties. First she suggested I drive into what looked like a gated driveway, when I refused she took me onto a main road off it and back to the gated driveway. This time it was Marjan who said "That's not a road", "See" said I. But Jaimie Lee insisted so in we went and yes it was a road and it even had a traffic light, the first we have seen outside the cities.

Anyway we drove in what appeared to be concentric loops over pot holed roads.....one pot hole would have eaten a smaller car.......surrounded by vines......until lo and behold we arrived at Porto Palo and found Da Vittorio by the water. Look it up. It was lunch time and we were ready . Our waiter took one look at us and said "Aqua con gas o naturale?" as he sat us by the window overlooking the Mediterranean surf. We were overwhelmed by the wine list, so just asked for a bottle of local dry white. "I'll take care of it!" he said.......which I immediately started regretting. We then spent a half hour eating bread and drinking water and sipping a wonderful local chardy....whilst arguing about how many courses we would have. I favoured 15 as there was so much yummy sounding stuff on the menu. In the end we settled for four - three and a salad. We shared some sardines.....divine.....we shared a tomato and seafood pasta.......equally divine....Marjan had a swordfish roulade and I had grilled tuna.......bloody wonderful. To top it off the waiter had not secured the only $400 bottle of chardy in Sicily. He had chosen a modest, by this place's wine list, bottle at $15 that suited the meal perfectly.

We were sated and happy and slightly tipsy with food and sun and stuff. So we jumped in the Mediterranean surf and paddled like great white Australian seals beaming and enjoying every bit of everything.

But we had to leave, we had a four PM appointment with a Sicilian in a black car at a petrol station in Monteallegro. His name apparently was Pino and he would find us. This is seriously how they do accommodation here. We thought that if we got kidnapped as part of this we had had a fine meal as our last.

Turned out Pino was fine and we followed his car as he drove using no indicators to a house on a hill overlooking the sea where Enza showed us through an immaculate little place with some local wine on the bench and some home grown veggies in the basket. Bliss.

A few postscripts:

1. Italian drivers are crazy......double lines, pass anyway...and then people make it three lanes to let them get away with it.
2. The lack of $ is palpable. We went into Monteallegro to buy some bits......bloody awful concrete housing, roads dug up and falling apart, light poles broken and hanging there.
3. The prices for a market shop item in Monteallegro are half Scopello. Less than half  for some items.
4. You cannot eat too much good seafood

A land of contrasts

Up with the sun again.......

Off to Erice, an old town on the top of a mountain.....well a 750m one anyway.......a bit higher than Mt Dandenong but rising straight from the sea and surveying all around it. The road up was steep and winding, but good quality with a bit of width at the corners and protection on the cliff side. Marjan did not think she was going to die, though she was trying to push a hole through the car floor.

Erice's history...nothing special...founded by Phoenicians and Elymians, Hellenised, destroyed in the first Punic war by the Carthaginians, conquered by the Arabs, the Normans, the Spaniards and then I lost interest. Suffice to say it reeks of history.

We got to the top well before the bus loads arrived, found a park just outside one of the old town gates and started walking. The car parking machines were broken....what luck. Absolutely amazing place, a bit misty though, as Mt Erice had decided to collect a cloud as a crown. We would get occasional glimpses of the Mediterranean through gaps in the buildings and/or clouds.

We bought a group ticket to do a few of the rides for an all-together price, sort of like Dreamworld only older. So essentially we wandered around, went in to some buildings and around others, made a mad dash back to the car park to find my phone still sitting on the roof of the car, checked out some amazing ceramics....if Erice were Mt Dandenong we would have a house full of gorgeous ceramics....and have a chicken one for Liz.

There is so much stuff packed into such a small area.......and not enough money to maintain it all as it could be.....a little like Sicily itself...….

Some of the churches were spectacular. I particularly liked the ceiling in San Martin.

We climbed the tower.....what is it with us.......and eventually ended up back in the car park.....now jam packed with people ........ I panicked.....the ticket machines were working.....I went to chat to the parking attendants...neither spoke English....my Italian though shone.....or at least managed to hold its own and they suggested I just drive off and they would forget all about it.....somebody was standing in my spot when I got to the car.....to reserve it, I almost ran over her toes to get out.

Down we went. Seemed easier once we cleared the fog........

We decided to look at a different, contrasting kind of history. A little place called Grotta Mangiapane......this is the history of the conquered rather than the conquerors who lived in Erice. A rural Sicilian village making do in a cave/cliff overhang. Occupied till after WWII the place reeks of poverty.

The hoity toity Greeks/Normans/Spaniards etc up in their hill towns, the locals huddling in a cave.....the gentle fog and breeze above, the scorching sun below.......hard to swallow for Sicilians being overrun by everybody under that harsh sun.

Anyway we found a beach......sort of ……..to have a picnic lunch......very late for us........and again the contrasts were astonishing......an amazing location, next to a quarry.......the blue Mediterranean edged by broken bottles and debris.

Back to Scopello where we visited the Tonnara, the old tuna station. Now private land,  it was gorgeous and too tempting not to risk the sea again. SO another swim, no Medusa.....in sea of cerulean blue....the water seems to be a velvet sheet holding you......by the way the salt level is so high you could not drown unless weighed down by several bricks. I tried diving and it was a struggle to get down about 7-8 feet. Lovely.

My Italian again held up well when the local grocer made a joke about me wanting carciofini when I was a big bloke and should have some carciofo. I got it and managed to smile and snaggle some tuna as well for our antipasto.....sort of like canned but nothing like canned......

By the way, what I am not sharing.....till now.....is that I believe Sicily could flood the world with parking attendants. Wherever you go someone has their hand out looking for a a parking fee. The consequence of this is that locals seem to park wherever they can manage to leave enough room on the road to squeeze a Fiat 500 through. Also entry to everything seems to cost money- toilets, churches, tuna stations, nature reserves, car parks. By the end of the day the wallet is considerably lighter.

Still, some of the town we went through today spoke of a pretty hard scrabble life.

By the way, Marjan wants me to be her parking attendant.