With just about a week left before we complete our lap of Sicily we want more. So we try to make each day count. Like that last portion of cake. We want to have it and eat it.
Today’s 9.30 start gives Mrs S a front seat view of what it’s like to experience riding alongside a typical Italian driver. A bumpy, frantic no holds barred 7K into Siracusa, via the back door. Claud is a man on a mission. An action man. His work ethic seems relentless. His driving style reflects that. Eyes focus ahead. Early decision making key. He is clearly the boss man. The swarm of other vehicles relinquish any rights of way, even though they have the same plan. How new drivers ever get to learn any road ethics will remain a complete mystery.
Apart from his paying guests – 17 MOHO couples, he also houses on site, six beautiful horses. His office wall is plastered with photos from his prize winning show-jumping days.
He speaks no English, Dutch, French or German. Simply and effectively utilises a phone translation app to communicate seamlessly and speedily with all and sundry. Claud kindly drops us off at the Neapolis Archeological Park, where once the ancient Siracusa was founded in 734BC.
After lunch, a bridge crossing finds us on the small island of Ortygia – the historical centre of Siracusa. It’s dreamland for visiting tourists. We’re on the lookout for the Temple of Apollo – a young girl is on the lookout for her next customer. Her funky peddle-car piques our interest and we agree to cough up €40 for a thirty minute tour.
It turns out she does no peddling. Within five seconds we wonder if we are her first paying customers, or, if this is the first time she’s driven this contraption, as an abrupt emergency stop prevents a head on collision with an electric scooter. “Mamma-mia” she expletes. This becomes her mantra for the duration. We wonder if the trike is a little too unwieldy for her slight frame. It feels as if it has the ability to topple at any moment, even without Mr Bean’s assistance. Her on board Bluetooth speaker is playing up too and she has little English. She is tense and apologetic. At each ‘tourist’ stopping point of interest, we feel fortunate if we receive the correct info, or any. It doesn’t matter. We’re having fun. Of course, use of the horn is paramount. My echo “parp-parp” – in Noddy style emulation, makes her chuckle and relieves her tension.
