I've found out from my last post that if I post just the photo, when I try to edit with text I can't work out how to get in. So please read this story together with the following heading and photo of Modica. The picture that heads up this piece is of a Catania verandah. This group of postings is about the journey that Carol and I made in September.
On the way back from Mt Etna we called into the port to book our ferry ticket to Malta and then into the bus station to find out about buses to Modica. Our Etna guide, who was a great source of information and help, advised us that Pozzallo had very little apart from a beach and that Modica was the place to go. The Lonely Planet guide also said that Modica was for the discerning traveler and we decided that this was a nice category to put ourselves in, so Modica became our destination. We discovered that there were regular buses to Modica and since we didn't want to rush away from our great apartment in Catania, we settled on the midday bus and spent the morning lingering over breakfast and going on a guided tour of Teatro Massimo Bellini.
We didn't really know what to expect from the bus trip except that we had to get our tickets from a cafe next to the bus depot on the day of departure. Luggage was easier than the train - like in Ireland there was a luggage bay opening at the side of the bus. I can't remember much about the journey but we both got a window seat and enjoyed watching the Sicilian countryside pass by. After Syracuse, the road curves round past Noto and Pozzallo and into Modica. The approach to Modica is dramatic as we crossed deep ravines and drove along one side of a deep gorge with the clustered houses of the town clinging to the other side of the gorge.
Modica is built around an ancient river bed that now runs underground. It is surrounded by four rocky hillsides. It was founded in the 13th century as the earldom of the Chiaramonte family. An earthquake in 1693 destroyed the churches and buildings and the rebuilt city was on a river until the flood of 1901 when it became necessary to create waterways under the main streets. Today it is late-baroque and included in UNESCO's cultural heritage sites. The houses are stacked on top of each other up the hillsides as shown in the adjoining photo.
The bus pulled in to the station in the late afternoon and as usual, we were relying on Carol's Lonely Planet guide to find a place to stay. We trundled our cases into a large but empty cafe across the road and consulted the guide. There is a lower Modica and an upper Modica and we located what seemed to be a suitable B&B in upper Modica so Carol stayed in the cafe with our bags and I walked up to explore. I found the rococo Chiesa di San Giorgio with the inevitable wedding taking place at the top of the 250-step staircase leading up to it. The B&B we were seeking was on one corner of the square, but although I found a glass fronted office, it was closed. I followed signs to another B&B but again couldn't get any response to my knocking. I was enjoying wandering the back streets and steps but started to worry about finding a bed for the night so I backtracked to lower Modica and found a new hotel, Principe D'Aragona, just down the road from the bus station. Returning to Carol with the information we decided that the hotel was the way to go and trundled our cases the short distance.
The expedience of the hotel gave us the evening to explore Modica and find somewhere to eat. We found a tourist office that was open and acquired a map and a suggested walking route but as usual I lead Carol off in the wrong direction and we had to double back after trekking up one of the forks in the valley. This wasn't an issue since Modica is a charming city to wander in, but we wanted to be back at the Cattedrale di San Pietro where we had spotted a stage being set up in the street opposite the cathedral's grand entrance steps. That evening at 8.00 there was going to be a local gospel choir singing. We arrived there in good time, got ourselves a good seat in the centre of the steps, and settled down to watch all the good citizens of Modica arriving for the event. The choir were dressed in the robes of an American southern baptist church and although they were Italian, they were singing in American English. They were also doing a lot of heartfelt praising the lord in Italian in between songs and after four or five numbers, Carol and I looked at each other and picked our way through the now packed steps and walked up to our hotel.
We picked the easy option for the morning and hired a taxi to take us to the ferry in Pozzallo. I'm sure if we had been there a little longer we could have negotiated public transport to get there, but our enquiries at the bus station had not produced very firm answers. We also arranged a wake-up call taking full advantage of the services offered by a hotel! So we arrived at the ferry terminal in good time and once we got through the simple formalities - no customs and my British passport meant I could travel as a member of EU - we were at the front of the queue with some time to wait. Carol wandered off to chat to one of the local minibus drivers waiting for custom on the incoming ferry whilst I did my stretching exercises and looked after the luggage. As ferry arrival time drew closer a whole fleet of buses and double deckers arrived to meet the groups of tourists who come over from Malta for a one day tour taking in Pozzallo, Catania, Mt Etna and Modica.
Carol and I exchanged luggage minding duties - she had found out all about the Sicilian minibus business and had started to give the driver advice about how to increase his market - and I wandered along the wharf to look at the working vessels moored up alongside as well as what appeared to be a fishing boat graveyard at the end of the wharf with several boats propped up on the quay. I wandered back as the ferry turned into the small harbour and we watched a surprisingly large number of people get off and form up in their groups to get on the buses.
We had to load our luggage onto a small luggage train to embark and then we found a suitable spot at the stern of the boat to settle. It was a beautiful day for a crossing - the sea was smooth and the sky was clear. We found copies of the Malta Times and spread out over a couple of tables. Carol was happy to stay in one place but I kept heading up to the bow to get my first glimpse of Malta and sure enough after about an hour the first smudge appeared on the horizon. Gradually the outlines of Gozo and Malta appeared and a little later Comino could be distinguished. As we got closer I could pick out the crowded buildings of Sliema and St Julian's as we pointed towards Valletta and then turned to head in through the heads of Grand Harbour.
Disembarking was also easy and quick. We walked out of the wharf at Valletta waterfront and picked up a taxi to take us to Marsaxlokk which was to be my home for the next six months.
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