Following Persephone
- Joanna
- 3 days ago
- 7 min read
I left Ragusa early to catch my bus to Catania... again... where I’d have to transfer to a train that would take me all the way up to the northwestern area of Sicily, Palermo. It was going to be a very long day.
For once, I actually felt confident about my bus from Ragusa. There was actually a bus station... AND a man at the ticket desk who specifically told me where to go, where the bus would be arriving, when to get on, and when it would leave. Phewf! What a refreshing change (and relief) from the transportation chaos I’d been encountering!
I was ecstatic.
And then… along came this woman...
She was slightly older... maybe in her late 60's or early 70's... and very eccentric looking. She was lugging around the biggest roly-poly I'd ever seen, and seeing her struggle with it immediately made me grateful I'd let mine go. Anyway... she wandered right up to me and asked if I spoke English.
"Yes," I smiled.
She wanted to know whether it was worthwhile to stay in Ragusa or move on. The bus had just dropped her off and she was in limbo about what to do next. I was honest. I told her Ragusa was made up of a lot of hills, and that she would have to be prepared for plenty of climbing to see all the churches and vistas.
She didn’t like that.
So I suggested she might enjoy Ortigia. Flatter... by the ocean... quaint. I liked it. It was much easier to navigate than Ragusa. But my mere suggestion wasn’t that simple... she practically appointed me as her one-woman guide to everything in Sicilian transport and tourism.
How long was the bus? Would the bus driver help her with her luggage? Were they permitted to put luggage below on this bus or did she have to take it into the bus? How long was the train? How long of a wait was there between the bus and the train? How much would each journey cost? Were the seats comfortable? How long was the walk from the Siracusa train station into Ortigia? How much was a taxi if she didn't want to walk? Where should she stay? How far was each accommodation from the ocean?
OMG… it was exhausting.
Eventually, I’d had enough and sent her to the actual ticket desk to sort out her trip and get the information she needed that I was unable to provide. I could hear her talking to the ticket officer, and it was clear she was irritating him just as much as she’d irritated me. After a lot of back & forth, endless hesitation, and an exhausting weighing of pros & cons, she finally emerged... with a ticket for the very same bus I was about to board. Lucky me. Her next question was, oddly enough, “Are you running away from Trump too?”
"No. Not really."
She thought I was an American fleeing the country to escape the tyranny of the current government… and that kicked off a political conversation that lasted through the entire wait for the bus... and most of the ride from Ragusa to Catania. She was interesting, for sure... giving me the inside scoop on absolutely everyone in her life who had either voted for or against him. How they felt now… whether they’d changed their minds… who they were no longer speaking to, and who wasn’t speaking to them. It was a lot to take in, and it felt almost never-ending. Sometimes it's a pleasure to sit in silence and not talk about how horrible Trump, his administration, and his followers are.
There’s one other person I should mention. Throughout almost all of my bus journeys... from Ortigia to Noto, Siracusa to Ragusa, and Ragusa to Catania... I kept running into the same German man. He was impossible to miss... extremely tall, wearing tiny, cut-off jean shorts and above the knee-high leather boots. Same outfit every day, every bus trip. Highly unforgettable.
I think he would have been interesting to speak to.
So… quickly back to Greek mythology, because I’m fascinated by these stories... and being here, in Sicily, a place so deeply tied to them, is absolutely phenomenal. Sicily is considered the land of gods, heroes, and monsters. So many major myths are set here and I couldn’t stop thinking about it that day, on the bus and on the train, as I gazed out across the Sicilian landscape.
One of my favourites is the myth of Persephone, which also explains the origin of the four seasons. Bear with me… it’s a pretty cool story.
Persephone was the daughter of Demeter, the Greek goddess of the harvest and agriculture. Demeter absolutely adored her daughter. She was the centre of her world. According to myth, Persephone was extraordinarily beautiful and admired by both mortals and gods. Many wanted to marry her. But the one who really fell for her was Hades, the god of the Underworld. He saw her and knew she was destined to be his wife.
So... one day, while Persephone was wandering through a meadow picking flowers, the earth suddenly split open. Hades erupted from below in his black chariot, seized her, and vanished back underground before anyone could react. He had kidnapped Persephone! She remained with him in the Underworld, and no one on earth knew where she had gone. Demeter was devastated. She searched endlessly for her daughter, and in her grief, she totally neglected her duties. The crops withered, the trees stopped bearing fruit, and famine spread across the world.
Eventually, Zeus intervened. The suffering on earth had grown too great, so he ordered Hades to return Persephone. Hades was reluctant, because he genuinely loved her... but he finally had to agree. Zeus threatened him with many things. Before she was about to leave, Hades gave Persephone six pomegranate seeds. Hades knew exactly what he was doing. Tricky. When Hermes arrived to escort Persephone back to earth, Hades reminded him of the one big rule: because she had tasted the fruit of the dead, she had to return to the Underworld...
When Persephone was reunited with Demeter, her mother’s joy was so overwhelming that it caused the earth to bloom again. Spring! But because she had eaten the pomegranate seeds, she was destined to spend six months with Hades and six months above ground. And so, when Persephone is with Demeter, the world becomes warm and fertile... spring and summer. When she descends back to the Underworld, Demeter mourns, and the earth grows cold and barren...fall and winter.
I know.
Cool.
But I arrived in Palermo! And I really, really loved it. Instantly.
So far... Palermo is my favourite of all of the places I have been in Sicily.
I arrived quite late, but I immediately felt that I was going to love it. Palermo was exactly what I needed.
This city is vibrant... and the streets are bursting with art... graffiti and street art everywhere. It’s colourful, lively, and full of energy. A sensory overload of sounds, smells, and sight. There are countless spots to grab an Aperol Spritz, a limoncello, an arancini, cannoli, or a glass of wine... seriously, more than I could ever try. It's like a paradise for street food lovers.
The vibe here is nothing but electric.
Brilliant.
My accommodation leaves something to be desired though. It is really centrally located, I can't complain about that at all. It’s just… strange. First, it was extremely difficult to find... which, honestly, seems to be the norm lately. I'm quite used to that.
There are two bedrooms... though one of them is locked. At first I assumed that there was a living room behind the locked door... but no. The “common area” (which I didn’t even realize was a common area) has nothing but two tiny round tables with two small chairs at each. I just kept thinking, "no couch, but two round tables? What is this place?"
No couch. Seriously... nowhere to just sit down and relax.
Just my bed.
The whole place has zero vibe. No atmosphere at all. The photos online do not match reality... neither the apartment nor the terrace. I was told they’d be coming to clean on Sunday, which I found unnecessary. It was just me… or so I thought.
Wrong.
On my second evening, another girl arrived to stay in the second room. Hence the two tables... one for me, one for her. Ahhh... And hence the locked room. The whole situation felt awkward. I barely saw her, but the place was so uninviting and sterile that it wasn’t somewhere you’d want to socialize anyway. Just shut yourself in your room. On top of that, the man who runs the place seems to come and go without warning. He just opens the door and walks right in.
Um… hello? ...maybe knock???
Incredibly unprofessional.
He does send random, useless texts out of the blue, rather than the texts I might consider essential, saying he’s going to be entering the apartment. Things like “I’ll come tomorrow to empty the garbage” and "I will come to sweep the floor"... all to which I have been responding with, "That’s ok. I can do it."
And I can...
At least he gave me the heads-up about the girl coming. I didn't read that the accommodation was 'shared' when I booked it. My bad.
He did bring me fresh towels on my third morning, which was both appreciated… and puzzling. Puzzling because I had already explored the accommodation top to bottom, and found the cupboard where all the fresh linen and towels were kept. If I’d needed anything, I could have easily grabbed it myself.
Anyway, he arrived pretty early. He made a bloody great racket, banging on my bedroom door. I jumped out of bed in complete shock to open it... and there he was... a tiny, stout man, beads of sweat streaming down his face from climbing three flights of stairs... holding a pile of towels for me.
The whole scene was so absurd.
At least there is laundry. Thank goodness.
I feel like I’ve been going through the motions for a while, not really appreciating the trip the way I should. But arriving in Palermo has completely rejuvenated me. I’ve truly love it here. Maybe I planned a bit too much time, but honestly, having the extra wiggle room to explore and also just relax has been really nice.
Although… every time I do try to relax, that odd man shows up in the apartment again.
Grant me patience...
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