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Posted from Address not found. There was a melancholy sweetness about Capo d’Orlando. When I’d last passed through the town in July it had been pulsating with people who had all the raw energy of holiday-making. The beaches had sprouted … Continued
It was time to move again. Nicoletta and I glided out of Bronte, down across fields of pumice, the skirts of Etna, towards Randazzo, ‘City of Wine’, and then climbed the hills beyond. We headed into the Nebrodi, an area … Continued
I hadn’t meant to go, initially. But then I thought, Why not? The Teatro Antico at Taormina. A performance of La Boheme. A warm summer’s night. What else have you got to that’s half as interesting? Don’t be so stupid. … Continued
Horatio Nelson, scourge of the French, hero of the nation, Duke of Bronte, pistachio farmer. Ok, I exaggerate a little. Nelson had been awarded the title of the Duke of Bronte, the house, land and the vassalage of the peasants … Continued
I smelt them before I realized what they were. There were waves of eggy, smokey, boiled milk incense. Pistachio nuts. ‘Can I chat to you about pistachios?’ I asked the woman raking out the pistachios on sheets in the sun. … Continued
Posted from Address not found. It had been a turbulent day. When I arrived at Caltanissetta, I discovered that the note-book covering the last six weeks of travel had fallen from my back pocket somewhere between Canicatti and Caltanissetta. This … Continued