Sweat, Steps & Spritz
- Joanna
- 6 days ago
- 6 min read
I have something I really need to admit... I am absolutely addicted to spinach arancini. I actively hunt them down. Yes, arancini is everywhere; of course, it's Italy. BUT it’s almost always the meat kind. The spinach ones are a different shape and size... and you can usually spot a hint of green peeking through... so I really do have to seek them out.
I've become a bit of a pro, though.
I’ve had to limit myself to one a day… even though, in my heart of hearts, I would happily eat them for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. But I can’t. I have to leave room for Caprese salads… and Aperol Spritzes. And gelato...
Right?
Right.
But honestly… it’s going to be rough flying away from these little risotto balls when I eventually leave. I think I'm going to need to learn how to make them.
I arrived in Noto WAY too early for my accommodation to let me in. Most places I’ve stayed (all over the world, actually) open check-in between 2:00 and 4:00 pm. Not this one. It was 5:30 pm.
Seriously.
FIVE THIRTY.
I nearly choked when I read that.
Remember, I’d just suffered through a 9:00 a.m. check-out… only to be told check-in wasn’t until 5:30 p.m. Where’s the logic? The human decency? The love?
Since I arrived in Noto at 10:30, I had a lot of time to kill… SEVEN hours. I wasn't prepared to waste it hauling the roly-poly around. No way. Not for seven hours. Not with those hills and cobblestones. No, sirree, Bob!
So I found the nearest luggage locker and dumped my bag. It was such a relief. Honestly, I probably could've just left it on a random street corner. No one would’ve touched it.
Guaranteed.
Noto is small. Very quiet. It was also Sunday, so I think it was even quieter than it typically is. I think I saw almost all of it within the first hour of arriving. Then, thankfully, not too long after, the accommodation lady messaged me that the place was ready if I wanted to head there. Back to the locker I went.
As per usual with me, my phone was dying. Quickly. I figured I had just enough battery to get to the apartment. My plan was to plug it in the moment I walked through the door.
Except… I got lost.
In my defence, the directions she gave me were atrocious. Even the pinned location she sent was wrong. So there I was, dragging my roly-poly up and down the wrong street... over and over again... spiralling into panic because my phone was about to die. All I could imagine was having to climb all the way back up the hill to the central historical district to find a restaurant, charge the phone, and start the whole "searching for my place" process all over again. She just kept sending the same useless maps, videos and photos on WhatsApp, which only served to drain my battery faster... and confuse me further. o
Finally, I found the place... up a side road... with 1% left on my phone.
I really do live on the edge.
The apartment was a charming two-story studio with a spiral staircase. I’ve always wanted a spiral staircase… but this one cured me of that dream forever. It was a bit of a pain to walk up and down... it felt unsafe... it was loud... etc etc. Spiral staircases definitely look better than they function. So I will not be swapping out my steps for that anytime soon. And that was, seriously, the plan for my place. Not anymore.
Noto is a UNESCO World Heritage Site... very famous for its early 18th-century buildings, many of which are considered some of the finest examples of Sicilian Baroque. Most of what there is to do here revolves around strolling the streets, eating, drinking and visiting a few churches. When you’re someone who refuses to go into churches anymore, it really limits the Italian sightseeing options.
Sometimes I wonder: what am I supposed to do when all that’s left is eating and drinking?
It's a tough life I lead.
The next morning, I was supposed to catch the 9:15 am bus from Noto back to Siracusa, and then the 1:32 pm bus from Siracusa to Ragusa. It was all planned to a T. Meticulous planning by me. The Noto bus would get me into Siracusa at exactly 1:00, giving me a perfect half hour to regroup, figure out my surroundings and catch my connection at the proper place.
I was so proud of myself. Everything was planned perfectly.
The only problem?
My Noto bus didn’t show up until 9:43…
When I arrived in Siracusa, I had two minutes to catch the connecting bus.
And, in a moment of pure brilliance, I wandered away from the exact spot I should’ve stayed, because I thought the bus left from somewhere else.
So I missed my bus.
I missed it.
Great.
Next bus? IN THREE HOURS.
Ya...
Which left me with three hours to kill.
Annoying.
I punished myself all day for walking away from the exact spot I was supposed to be in. So, same dilemma as always... I could wander around Siracusa and Ortigia again, but I had that damn roly-poly contraption strapped to me. Sure, I could’ve put it in a locker... but instead I found a little café and hunkered down to write until it was time to head back to the “bus station.” And I use that term loosely, because it wasn’t a station at all. Just a few poles on the side of a few roads. Not even one bus road. It’s hard to know where to go... or when... when there’s no signage... no information… nothing.
Anyway, I eventually managed to find the right spot and the right bus. And get this... we went right back through Noto. I could have just slept in, stayed in Noto... and gotten on the bus there. I don’t always make stupid decisions… but when I do, I commit fully.
Unbelievable.
I arrived in Ragusa, obviously, much later than planned.
The bus dropped me off about a 12-minute walk from my hotel, which would’ve been fine… except Ragusa is basically a collection of hills. Hills everywhere. All of them up, up, up. I'm not even making this up! The city's geography is characterized by steep hills and deep valleys. Three bridges and numerous stairs connect the two parts of the city. So many hills and so many stairs!
The entire city felt like an elaborate fitness test.
I walked a lot.
For two full days, I think I hit every staircase, every hill, and every switchback Ragusa had to offer. I explored Ragusa Ibla and Ragusa Superiore, and even made my way to their Wednesday market... which turned out to be more of a trek than I had anticipated. There were a lot of churches, even more than in Noto. There was actually one called The Church of Santa Maria delle Scale... St. Mary of the STAIRS. It’s famous for the 340 steps that connect the upper town to the historic district. And those 340 are just the connector… there are even more after that!
So I didn't feel even a little guilty indulging in a Spritz… or two.
The funny thing about most restaurants in Sicily... or maybe all of Italy... is that they usually have someone standing outside, trying to lure you in for a meal or a drink. It’s hard to walk past them and say no, or ignore them without feeling rude. I’ve started saying, "I’ll definitely be back later.”
I've got a lot of places to go back to later.
A LOT.
While in Ragusa, I made the executive decision to buy a new backpack and finally abandon the roly-poly for good. I found a Decathlon outside the city, figured out which bus would get me there, and off I went. It was time to say goodbye to the burdensome piece of crap that had been weighing me down for far too long.
I didn’t want anything massive... just something functional... so I went with the cheapest option ~ 44€ and 32 litres. Not much, but I was willing to sacrifice clothing for the sake of comfort.
It had to be done.
I also discovered something… interesting.
Italy has planned a nationwide strike to protest the government sending ammunition to Israel, on the VERY day I’m supposed to fly home. November 28th. I’ve already been warned that my flight might not even go.
The strike runs from 7 am until midnight.
My flight? 6:55 am
And just to make things even more extra fun... I’ve been told that even if I manage to get to the airport, security might be completely shut down, preventing me from even getting close to my plane.
Never a dull moment...
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