Sicilia, amore mio…A writer’s date with Catania

In this second part of her travelogue series, the writer takes us to Catania, while admitting: ‘I’d left my heart in Sicily somewhere!’

By Punam Bakshi Mohandas

I was eagerly waiting to be back in Catania; I’d left my heart in Sicily somewhere! For the first couple of days, I stayed in Aci Castello at the Four Points by Sheraton, overlooking the sea.

Aci Castello is small and sleepy; quite perfect for those who have a car to explore the village with. Fortunately for me, there was a bus stop literally right outside the hotel. Although there is an hourly service, the buses aren’t always on time and no, this isn’t due to any Italian lassitude; it’s because these coastal village roads are so narrow, with so many steep bends, that it takes a while for a heavy, big vehicle like a bus to manoeuvre itself. (On a side note, all the Catanian bus drivers wear crisp, sky-blue shirts and dark blue trousers and look so dashed smart, even the pot-bellied ones!)

[Video: The beautifully decorated ceilings at the Ostello Delgi Elefanti]

Murphy’s Law dictated that the day I was to move from Aci Castello to Catania, 20 minutes away, with two suitcases, the bus…didn’t arrive. I waited for about half an hour and then went back into the hotel to ask Reception staff if they knew what was going on and, whaddya know, ole Murphy was at work again – the bus whooshes past while I’m talking to the staff! Now, this meant a wait of more than an hour, so I put the good girl in me aside, went back to the road and determinedly stuck out my thumb. I must have been sticking it out the wrong way (this is only the second time in my life I’ve hitchhiked, the first was in Cambodia!) because no one stopped. So, I moved my butt more experimentally to the middle of the road and stuck my thumb out again. An old geezer going past took pity on me and stopped, he gallantly loaded up the suitcases and off we went.

[Also by the same author: ‘When in Rome, I did as the Romans do!’ – THE NEWS PORTER]

Sicilians love talking

It was a torturous conversation, because, of course, Sicilians love talking, only, he had about 15 words in English, and I had five in Italian. We reached Catania where I wanted to be dropped off and I had nothing else to say a ‘thank you’ with, so I removed the lovely, colourful, horse keychain from my backpack and gave it to him. He then asked if we could meet for dinner (eye roll!) Oops, I have my friends waiting for me, I said, smartly, thinking on my feet. This time, he ungallantly did not unload my suitcases from the boot!

I was going to be staying at the Ostello Elefanti via Etnea, which is the most central area of Catania. Climbing two flights of stairs (apparently the owner of the building rather meanly does not allow the hostel access to the lift!) I’m faced with the most beautifully painted ceiling, where cherubs cavort among the clouds.

Art adorning hostel ceilings

I soon discover all the ceilings at the hostel have similar works of art adorning them. This place is most unlike any hostel I’ve been to, with a noisy, cheerful atmosphere, two large common rooms flowing into each other, lots of books available for reading and, best of all, even the dormitories have balconies!

I’m in a women-only dorm, which is two rooms together, a small table and chairs for us to sit on, towel stands, and top bunks with broad blocks of steps and not the usual narrow ladders to climb up on.

Bunk in the inner room

I saw two women as I entered, so, after I found my bunk in the inner room, I came back to say ‘hello’ and that’s how South Korean Vivienne (who’s my age) and French Chloe, who’s only 22, and I met for the first time. We start chatting while I’m unpacking, with Vivienne inquisitively going through everything I lay out, and claiming dibs on the mosquito repellent!

The Ostello Elefanti is really quite fantastic – for 23 euros, we get breakfast thrown in, as well as free pasta dinner every night at 8.30! You have to buy drinking water, though; it isn’t safe to drink tap water in Italy.

The surprisingly tasty pasta, go get it…

Vivienne is hungry, so we all go to check out the pasta, which is surprisingly tasty. Some of the others decide to play a game called ‘beer pool’ and we go to watch. It’s quite loud, what with this game as well as the street noises from the cafes outside that filter in through the open balcony doors.

I had bought a chocolate cake from the supermarket earlier, so I share that around with everybody. Chloe is leaving for Taormina (30-mins away) the next morning and so she wants to go to bed early. I had Taormina on my itinerary anyway (it truly is the most beautiful place God ever made), so Vivienne and I decide on the spur of the moment to go up on Sunday and meet Chloe there.

The only problems with the Ostello are a dirty kitchen and even dirtier bathrooms. I know we as the guests are equally responsible to keep the space clean, but I do think the hostel’s maids should be doing a better job. I decide to move on and find a B&B for the rest of my stay in Catania, which is how I meet the lovely Grazia and we become instant friends.

The happening bars

The B&B Etna Rossa is even better located, right next to the happening Savia and Spinelli bars and opposite the park; any more central and I’d be pitching a tent on the street! Grazia is also the owner of a large restaurant right below the B&B, which is where I eat dinner most nights.

A rather rum thing happened; I’m a member of an English Facebook group in Catania and had posted there that I’d be visiting the city. Someone from this group reached out to me, so the long and the short of it is that we met for early dinner one night. A most peculiar, rabbit-looking sort of man, almost bald, with pale skin, red-rimmed eyes and of course, rabbit teeth. He took me to what is the fish market in the day and turns into this amazing space full of restaurants at night; we went to a place which only the locals would know about and had the most delicious pasta pistachio and a humungous pizza Margherita, generously topped with cheese.

Of course, we got to that awkward stage where I insisted on splitting the bill and he demurred and I’m like, why would you pay for me, you don’t even know me and he goes, I like you and I go, thank you, but I’m too old for you or you’re too young for me, whichever you prefer…and then he sulked and wouldn’t speak to me as we walked back to via Etnea!

Ever grateful

Anyhow – I always remain grateful to him for showing me this area, coz I went back twice more for some scrumptious fried mozzarella!

(Main/Featured picture on top: Catania Centre)

Punam Mohandas is a journalist and writer with 25-plus years of work experience across India, Dubai and Thailand. She is currently a lecturer at an international university in Thailand. A nomad at heart, having travelled over 43 countries at the last count, Punam is also a film critic. She was a weekly columnist for the Hindustan Times (New Delhi edition), Delhi Midday, The Financial Express, The Statesman and the Times of India (Kolkata edition). She is also the author of the book, ‘Fallen Angels’.