SICILY: Rape fountain

 

The first place we stayed in was Ortygia. Here a formidably defensible island was lucky enough to have a reliable spring of pure fresh water which emerged right next to the sea. In the spring’s origin myth, Arethusa was one of the goddess Diana’s girl-gang of nymphs. In Arcadia, Arethusa went to bathe in the river, but Alpheus, the god of that river fell in love with her and pursued her. To help her escape, Diana turned her into a rushing stream and sent her underground, finally emerging by the edge of the sea at Ortygia. However, Alpheus pursued her by running beneath the sea until he caught up with her at Ortygia and was still able to ‘mingle his waters with hers’.

Yuk.

A fountain in the central Piazza Archimede celebrates the whole sorry affair.

Next we went on to Enna, a hill town said to be the setting for the myth of Hades and Persephone. In the town square, sure enough, there is a fountain depicting Hades, King of the Underworld, seizing the beautiful young Persephone in order to kidnap her.

Also yuk.

After that we stayed in Castelbuono. We went for a drink in the old town square, and Nigel saw me staring at the simple unadorned water feature in the centre.

‘What is it?’ he asked.

‘This town doesn’t have a rape fountain,’ I said, ‘I like it already!’

SICILY: A palace worth living in

 

In preparation for our Sicily trip, I read The Leopard by Lampedusa, about he way the Sicilian nobility declines during the unification of Italy in the nineteenth century. I then watched the excellent TV adaptation, and finally the Fellini film. The opulence of that age, even as it passed, was poignant. 

There is a particular sequence in the book where the lovers, Tancredi and Angelica explore the many unused rooms of the palace at Donnafugata using them as a place to kiss. The Prince who owns the house says, ‘A house of which one knows every room isn’t worth living in.’

I hoped to see one or even two of these magnificent palaces at the Baroque town of Noto. But when we got there, not only was it raining, but the famed palaces were inexplicably shut.

We were ourselves staying in a once-palace in Ortygia. We had one of several self-catering apartments. The owner was renovating the palace a bit at a time, as he could afford it. Which meant that there remained a large semi-derelict wing. One evening Nigel and I ventured into it.

There were many vacant rooms containing odd fragments, such as a huge artificial Christmas tree, light fittings made from old chairs hanging from the ceiling. Here a pile of rubble, there a magnificent marble staircase.

I had my Donnafugata after all.

I would like to report that Nigel and I used the empty rooms as a place to kiss, but in fact, the air of neglect spooked me and I couldn’t wait to get out of there.

So I am clearly not cut out to be a member of the nineteenth century Sicilian nobility after all.  I suppose I’ll just have to send back the crinoline I purchased on Vinted.