baroque a day

It is morning at Noto Marina, the sea is like an expanse of oil and the sirocco is already blowing warmly among the plumes of the palms. Winding easily among the cars on the waterfront, another day is about to begin and swimmers loaded with sunshades, deckchairs and transistor radios begin to swarm through the little streets of the village. The temptation to stay on the gilded beach is so great, but it is better to head south. For from this beach there begins the trip along the eastern coast of Sicily that will take us to the extreme edge of Europe.

Having climbed over the hill that delimits the gulf, you reach a minuscule bridge, and crossing it you feel a bit like Alice when she gets into the rabbit’s burrow and discovers a new universe. From this point on the air is sweeter, the sea wilder, the light warmer. A few hundred metres and you come to Colonna Pizzuta, a monument dating from the 3rd century BC erected by the Syracusans just outside the city to commemorate the victory over the Athenians. A road to the left after a hundred metres or so leads instead to the gates of the Greek city of Eloro, 7th century BC, set by the Corinthians between the mouths of the rivers Asinaro and Tellaro. Getting into the crystalline waters that wash the imposing walls of the city to see remains of amphoras and crocks underwater truly sends shivers down your spine. On the hill there are the ruins of the city and the temple and the Eloro beach opens up to the south, furrowed by the mouth of the Tellaro. A brief line of sharp rocks separates it from the Marianelli beach, where you can admire dunes that are the daughters of the African ones.

Back on provincial highway 21, at km 6.5 a “doit-yourself” sign indicates the fork to take to get to Cala Mosche, inside the Vendicari reserve. This beach of golden sand is set between two high rock promontories; the water is clean and fish swarm. To swim in the crystalline waters it is necessary to pay a toll: a kilometre of paths to go through the reserve where wild rabbits proliferate. Back on provincial highway 21 again, but a little further on, there is the main entrance to the Vendicari reserve. Few places in the world can satisfy so many different tastes as this protected oasis.

Here the historical-archaeological aspect can be explored, with vestiges that go from the Hellenistic, Byzantine and medieval ages down to the industrial archaeology represented by the tuna stations where red tuna was processed; or the natural aspect with bird watching; or simply the holiday one. A path on pilings crosses the wetland zone and also gives access to the beach even in the deep midwinter: the gulf, closed off on the horizon by the Vendicari islet, forms an immense swimming pool and the water warms up much more than you would expect. The southernmost part of the beach, instead, is often fenced to protect the nests of the Caretta caretta turtles. The gulf fades away on the ruins of a tuna station, where there looms up the massive structure of a Swabian sighting tower. The Angevins once put four twelve-ounce guns in it to keep back the corsair ships that shaded the horizon. Behind the tuna station there are the remains of an old establishment from the Roman epoch in which sardines, anchovies and mackerels were processed. The paths grafted on a little further on, in the direction of Noto, follow the layout of the ancient Via Elorina, which went to Syracuse. In the stretches of bare rock you can see still the parallel signs left by Greek and Roman chariots.

Heading south again along provincial highway 21, you turn at the fork for the San Lorenzo village. Following the street layout as far as the 9th road,where the buildings end - on the south edge of the reserve - some marvellous beaches begin. The little bays of the “citadel” are set between rocks andcaves in which even at midday you can enjoy some shade. The sand is fine and golden and the foreshore never seems to end, making the sea ideal for children. Following the scent of cooked fish, you reach Marzamemi. The scraped tufa of the houses reflects a dazzling light while we wander along the dusty streets of the village, where it is not rare to meet cats proud of holding in their mouths a bone just stolen. As you enter one of the many alleys, suddenly the turquoise of the sea appears over the shade of the pergolas that often close off the façades of the houses: these are the postcards sent by Camilleri’s police commissioner Montalbano, natural scenes that bring tourists from all over Italy to this Sicilian south. Still wandering among the worn ashlars of the little piazza, you notice numerous restaurants with tables a few steps from the sea. Slipping on those white stones, the tuna boats, here called scieri, were pulled up onto dry land and stored in the portico, next to the dock. About thirty years ago the whole fleet was put away because there was no longer enough tuna to catch. Since then the sailors have been waiting for the order from the rais to put the scieri back in the water.

ProseguendoContinuing southwards, you see other isolated beaches open up like gilded crescents among the rocks. Roaming over the horizon with your gaze, you notice some pyramidal structures that emerge from the blue of the waters: they are the aquiculture tubs where sea-bass and bream are bred in the sea. As you follow the coast, the ribbon of asphalt winds up a hill that looks out on the blue sea. A little below, protected by an inlet, there are the vestiges of the Capo Passero tuna station. The small gulf with crystalline waters guides the look as far as the tower of the Tafuri castle, not at all medieval, but on the contrary an eccentric construction used for years as a hotel and now abandoned.

The seaside village of Portopalo appears idle and sleepy like a late summer afternoon, with tourists wandering around in the little piazza waiting for the next discovery. For instance, of that little road on the right that leads down to the beach close to an ancient establishment for processing fish, from the Roman poch. In the ovoidal containers that can still be seen they made garum, a paste of soaked and salted anchovies, sardines nd mackerels, a sauce much appreciated by the Romans but, it seems, absolutely unbearable for a modern palate. Opposite, today as then, there is Capo Passero, which with its sandy isthmus connect the islet of the same name to the terra firma.

Almost at the end of this brief trip, we go along a road that is lost among the plastic greenhouses, the dusty streets seem to take you around without any destination, but where the land ends, there you can smell the scent of Africa. You are on a parallel more to the south than that of Tunis and currentium insula, the Island of Currents, the last stretch of Europe, is there in front of you.

colonna pizzuta (Eloro)