The Wet Road

Then came Ortigia... a small island off the coast of Siracusa.

The Temple of Apollo

“According to the legends of Greek mythology, Ortigia was the island where Leto sought refuge while fleeing Hera's wrath after becoming pregnant by Zeus. Enraged by her husband's affair, Hera forbade any land under the sun from offering Leto shelter to give birth. Eventually, Leto found safety on Ortigia, where she gave birth to the twins Apollo (God of the Sun, music, and prophecy) and Artemis/Diana (Goddess of the Hunt and the Moon).”

Pretty cool, eh?

Lately, I’ve been plunging deep into Greek mythology, as I've managed to get myself hooked on Stephen Fry’s Mythos trilogy of audiobooks. If you haven't read them (or listened to them) … highly recommended. I’ve actually been listening on and off for over a year, yet the stories still captivate me. I keep replaying the same myths over & over again, fascinated, especially when I'm walking through the places where they are said to have happened.

It's also the birthplace and home of the mathematician, Archimedes...

Archimedes was not only a mathematician, but also a great physicist, engineer and inventor who was born in the city of Syracuse around 287 BC. He is considered one of the greatest scientists of his day... and is famous for works such as the "Eureka!" ... which is described as a "sudden cognitive shift from not understanding."

Some of his most famous inventions include:

~ The Archimedes’ Screw – a spiral tube used to lift water, still used in some places for irrigation.

~ The Claw of Archimedes – a huge crane that could grab enemy ships and tip them over.

~ Catapults and War Machines – powerful launchers that could fire stones or arrows at Roman ships.

~ (Maybe) Burning Mirrors – shiny shields that supposedly focused sunlight to set ships on fire.

~ He explained why things float or sink (the idea came to him in the bath — his famous “Eureka!” moment).

~ He studied levers and pulleys, showing how they could lift heavy objects.

~ And he worked out early ways to measure circles and spheres, coming very close to figuring out the number π (pi).

"Archimedes combined imagination with science — turning ideas into inventions that still inspire us more than 2,000 years later."

Ortigia is beautiful. Less crowded than Catania... and definitely less graffiti. As soon as I got off the train, I made my way through the cobblestone streets and across the bridge separating Siracusa from Ortigia to find my accommodation. The wheel on my roly-poly has completely disintegrated now, making the roll-along more of a “drag-along.”

It won't be long before this contraption and I part ways... forever.

It's coming.

Anyway... back to Ortigia. It is known as one of Sicily's most enchanting destinations... featuring narrow medieval streets, lively piazzas, and stunning sea views. I loved it. My little room was actually just past the ruins of the Temple of Apollo... so of course I had to stop, give a nod to the God of the Sun... as well as his temple… and his legendary birthplace.

My place was adorable. Slightly difficult to find... and ever-so slightly more difficult to get into... but I eventually mastered the lock and got inside. It was a full studio apartment with a ROUND bed and a rooftop terrace. I’ve never slept in a round bed before! The bathroom was enormous. Like… big enough to host an average-sized dance party. I always look at studio apartments and wonder why some of them decide to dedicate so much space to the bathroom, as opposed to the living room/ bedroom area. Mystery.

I’m allowed to say that, as I live in a studio apartment… with a very tiny bathroom.

So much for bowing to the God of the Sun... as on my second day there, the heavens opened and literally flooded the island.

Torrential rain.

My cheap umbrella didn’t stand a chance. The streets turned into rivers. Rivers running right over my shoes, no matter where I tried to walk. I took refuge in a couple of cafés, but the city was seriously flooding... water pouring into shops and restaurants while owners frantically made their best to either dam their doors or sweep the water out.

The flood of Ortigia

I had no choice but to brave the downpour. I’d already declared this day as my official laundry day. And once that decision’s made, there’s really no turning back. I can’t really postpone laundry day, because by the time I’ve admitted it’s time, things have usually already gone too far. My clothes were beginning to stink. I was left with no excuse but to face it.

In my defence, the rain didn’t start until after I’d begun my washing. If it had started sooner, I would’ve happily stayed curled up in my round bed, guilt-free. By the time my laundry finished, I was drenched from head to toe, trudging back like a soggy towel. I spent the next three hours drying my shoes with a hairdryer while listening to the rain batter the windows. It turned into one of those days that insist you slow down.

So I did… writing, editing photos, scrolling through social media… perfectly content to be dry, warm, and wrapped up in that big, round bed.

When the skies finally cleared, I ventured out for a quick bite to eat and ended up buying a bottle of Sicilian red... the cheapest one in the shop. Now… I rarely touch red wine anymore... but due to the exorbitant pricing at this one particular shop for all the whites, rosés, and bubbles… I really had no other choice but to buy red.

Big mistake.

Sailing around Ortigia

They say wine is cheap in Italy… but I don’t necessarily agree with that statement. It depends on where you are. In a tourist town? Not a chance. Well, I quickly found out why this particular red was so inexpensive. It was probably the worst wine I’ve ever had… but I drank it anyway. Of course… The rain had returned, and the thought of venturing out again was unimaginable. I'm sure it would've tasted a lot better on a rooftop overlooking the sea at sunset… preferably with some arancini.

Despite the minor rain misadventure, I loved Ortigia.

The island was intimate and beautiful… with narrow lanes, faded facades, and that salty, sea air. My first night, l stumbled upon an incredible vegetarian / gf restaurant, but I had already eaten. I promised to return the following evening, but each attempt I made… it was shut. At first I figured it was because of the rain… but it never seemed to reopen again. I was disappointed, not just for the food, but for the cool shirt in the window l'd been eyeing up to buy.

As I mentioned before, I packed poorly.

I desperately need more Mediterranean clothes.

The morning after the atmospheric river, I took a small boat trip around Ortigia. There were just two of us on board… myself and an older Australian woman from a docked cruise ship. We didn’t really connect much, which was fine. I just sat there, absolutely mesmerized by the bright, clear teal colour of the sea. It was exquisite. It reminded me of the ocean colour in Zanzibar… but that was more turquoise, whereas this was brighter in the sunshine. The sea shore was stunning… full of hidden caves and coves, fortresses and wee cafés.

I’ve never wanted to jump into the water so badly. But… obviously, I wasn’t dressed for diving in. And you can never trust those sharks, right?

And yes… I did do my “shark research,” and there are many species around Sicily.

The next day… there I was, standing at the bus stop, heading from Siracusa to a small village, Noto, for the night. Backstory… I wasn't originally supposed to go to Noto at all. The plan had always been Ortigia-Ragusa-Palermo. That was my route, my schedule, my "organized traveller" itinerary.

But then Sunday happened.

Damn Sunday.

As it turns out, there are no trains or buses from Siracusa to Ragusa on Sundays. At least not the Sunday I needed. None. I scoured the internet, tried every combination of search known to humanity… and the only option I found was a local commuter carpool. I paid for it… desperate AND relieved… but almost immediately, the driver messaged me to say he wasn't actually heading that way after all.

Cancelled.

Just like that.

Back to square one.

So there I was, stranded in Siracusa on a Sunday, with a non-refundable hotel in Ragusa and no way to get there with hitting the highway with my mangled roly-poly, thumb out.

I’ve done it before.

Could I do it again?

No.

I messaged the Ragusa hotel, asking (begging) if they could possibly move my non-refundable reservation of the 9th-12th to the 10th-13th. To their credit, they agreed… sort of.

They said I had to make the change through the Booking site. Fine. But when I did, Booking wanted to charge me an extra €40. Ugh… I’m poor!!! I tried to charm the hotel into doing it "just between us," but no luck. So l processed it officially, got the confirmation for the request going through to them… and…. radio silence.

No response for DAYS.

When they finally wrote back… after l'd started pressuring them for any kind of response… they said they had actually accepted my request from the start.

Oh.

Right.

Guess l'd just misread the communication trail??

It was never updated on the Booking site, which left me slightly baffled, but at least they sent a written message confirming the change. “Fingers crossed,” was all I had to go with. A wing and a prayer, really.

Let's just hope the Booking site never notices, as l'd much rather not shell out the extra €40.

The Island of Ortigia

So, one problem solved. But that still left me with an extra night to fill. I tried extending my stay at the "round bed, rooftop bar" place, but they were fully booked.

Enter: Noto.

That's how I ended up there - all because it was the only place I could get to… on a bus… on a Sunday.

The morning I was supposed to leave Ortigia, I slept in. Who cares, right? I didn’t sleep in a lot!!! My bus wasn't until 11:30am, and I figured I deserved a lazy morning. I lounged in bed, drifting between half-sleep and social media scrolls… completely relaxed. Not a care in the world.

Everything was kinda perfect in my big, round bed… until l made the fatal mistake of checking the Booking site.

Checkout: 9:00 a.m.

I looked at my clock.

8:47am.

Shit!!!

I had exactly thirteen minutes to pack and evacuate the premises.

Double Shit.

Did I do it?

Damn straight I did.

And… might I add… with plenty of time left to drag my damn suitcase across yet more cobblestones. And just to confirm, in case there is any doubt, yes, I still hate it as much as I did on day one.

The bus stop was a bit of a brainteaser. Basically, there was a tangle of roads, buses going every which way, and not one single clear sign in sight. While I was trying to decode the situation and figure out where I was meant to be standing and waiting, an elderly man started talking to me in rapid Italian. He must’ve seen the blank panic on my face because he quickly switched to German. Naturally, that wasn’t ideal either, as I speak neither Italian nor German.

So there I stood… the eternally confused tourist… smiling, nodding, and shaking my head in all the wrong moments.

Finally, he paused and asked (in English), “What language do you speak?”

“English,” I replied, slightly embarrassed.

He looked genuinely disappointed.

“English?” he sighed. “I feel sorry for you.”

Oh.

Ok.

I didn't really know how to take that. It stuck with me… and still does, as I write this.

English: the so-called universal language. Yet somehow, he's right. Most people who speak English don't speak any other language, while so many people who speak other languages can also speak English. It's a strange imbalance.

I've heard so many English speakers mock others for not speaking "our" language… yet most of those same people are often the ones making the effort to always try.

And here I am, in Italy, barely able to say anything beyond prego, grazie, pizza, pasta, and principessa. It's not exactly a survival kit.

It's humbling… and, honestly, a bit disgraceful, to really realize how limited most of us are linguistically. Sure... I can kinda get by in Spanish and muddle my way through with some French, but I'm not fluent. Definitely NOT fluent. Not even close.

Still... maybe that's the beauty of travel… being reminded how big the world is, and how small your vocabulary can make you feel.

Off to Noto...