Judith's blog

We woke up in our plush hotel room and went to have our so-much-food-you-were-spoilt-for-choice breakfast, which was served on the top floor in a room with 270° views. In the dark we had seen the harbour lights and walked down for a nice pizza, but in daylight, the place was a building site. Four star hotel in one star surroundings.

We set off for what we came for… the Greek ruins. We resisted the tourist train tour of the site and walked. The temple complex at Selinunte contains five temples, four of which were destroyed by earthquakes. The remaining one is stunning. Looking at the piles of temple rubble is fascinating, as you can see the inner workings of the building. After looking at the first three, we went to the acropolis, which contains another temple and the remains of the city. There are still troughs, grind stones, etc. there. It’s an impressive place and it overlooks the sea.

While there, we learned that the Cave di Cusa, the quarry where the columns came from still exists and can be visited. It’s 12km from the site, but we couldn’t miss this amazing place. The columns were cut, in-situ, from a whole block of stone. So the workers would have to cut a channel (only as wide as a man) all around the column and it was then cut off at the bottom and levered over, before being dragged all the way to the temple site by oxen and slaves. The quarry was abandoned something like 2300 years ago, but you can still see columns started and abandoned.

We decided to try to see another place while there was daylight, so drove to Sciacca. As we arrived it started raining, so we had a snooze but the rain got harder and harder until after an hour we gave up and drove to our next B&B, in Agrigento.

The Rough Guide describes the town as follows: “It would be a mistake not to scout around the modern town of Agrigento. Modern only by comparison with the temples, it’s thoroughly medieval at its heart. After the mean streets of some Sicilian towns, the long main drag, Via Antea is something of a revelation.”

The B&B we were staying at was described as in the old, run down part of the city. We got to the address and it was run down, but not old. Horrible, crumbling apartment blocks surrounded us. We were an hour early, and no one was answering the door, so we tried to find a bar. We walked around for ages, getting more and more disillusioned with area, but not finding any bars. We looked at the Rough Guide again and spotted the section we had previously missed. “No one comes to Agrigento for the town, though its worn medieval streets and buildings soak up thousands of tourists every year.” Oh, dear. At 7pm, the time we said we would be arriving, we called the B&B owner and he appeared 10 minutes later apologising that the online booking company had given us the wrong address. He took us up an amazingly steep road into the heart of the old town. The last bit was inaccessible by car and we had to walk. The place we were staying was indeed medieval. Exposed stone windows and the highest ceilings I have seen in a normal house. What a relief! Via Antea was indeed a revelation. After the run down, near empty residential area, the main drag was packed with people promenading. Everyone was dressed to the nines in their Sunday best and Geoff and I felt decidedly shabby. We found a really nice eatery where we managed to get a 5 course menu with local dishes. Once we had finished our meal and were ready for some more promenading, the streets were completely deserted.

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We arrived in Trapani, Sicily by flying through the perfect XC sky. Little fluffy clouds, which I wished I had photographed, but my camera wasn’t handy and the seat belt sign was on. It was actually really windy on the ground. We’ve been to Italy four times together in the past, but never hired a car because we’ve been too scared and public transport is so good. This time we wouldn’t be able to see the things we wanted to easily without a hire car. The excess waiver insurance was nearly as much as the car hire (the usual car hire scam – say there’s a massive excess, 900 Euros in this case, then charge a huge amount to remove it), but we grudgingly bought it, just to be on the safe side (and having seen Italian drivers before).

Our first hotel was in Selinunte, southeast of Trapani, so we headed to Marsala (as in the famous wine), which is on the way. Barely 10 minutes out of the airport and I was a complete nervous wreck, pressed as far back into my seat as possible and gripping the door handle so hard I was getting white fingers. There is no giving way in Sicily, it’s whoever is the most assertive/suicidal who gets to go first. People are constantly pulling out in front of you, regardless of how fast you are going. Even if the gap between you and the car in front is only one car length. After a couple of days I realised that Sicilian drivers don’t care about what’s happening behind them. The only thing that matters is what’s happening ahead. And whatever is ahead needs to be overtaken as fast a possible, regardless of oncoming traffic, blind bends, pedestrians, etc. Pedestrians on the other hand, are the most nonchalant I have ever seen. They step into the road regardless of what’s coming, and saunter across without a care, usually stopping halfway to pinch some toddler’s cheek, have a loud argument or greet acquaintances, while all around them cars screech past, swerving around them by inches.

Within a couple of hours behind the wheel Geoff had found his inner Italian. He treated the whole place as one big dodgem track and surprisingly this made things safer. By day three I had mastered wild gesticulating and shouting at other drivers, which allowed me to make a useful contribution to the driving effort.

The Rough Guide to Sicily had a nice write-up of Marsala, so we went there, but it being siesta time, everything was closed. We eventually found the tourist information office to get a map and some info, but they had moved, leaving only their new address on the notice on the door. Since we didn’t have a map we couldn’t locate the new address! I wonder if the lack of customers in the next few months will eventually alert them to the flaw in their thinking…

There’s not a lot to do in Marsala in the middle of the afternoon, so we walked around the old centre and headed for the next place recommended in the guide: Mazara del Vallo.

Mazara turned out to be a one-square wonder. It’s a lovely square, to be sure, but the main tourist attraction was the remains of an old castle (“spectacularly illuminated at night”), but this was a small piece of wall barely higher than me and only twice as wide. So on to Selinunte.

Selinunte is the site of some spectacular Greek ruins and the town is a seaside resort. We arrived after nightfall and went to look for our two star accommodation. We have a history of incompetence in locating our hotels in Italy and we continued this trend. Thankfully we had packed our sat nav (sign posting is atrocious in Sicily) and although we put in the correct address, no hotel. We drove around the one way system three times, with sinking hearts. Selinunte was a bit of a dump. Finally, we managed to locate the hotel, which was closed! However, they directed us to a posh hotel just round the corner and when I handed in my reservation they confirmed we had come to the right place. So we paid for our two star hotel, but got a free upgrade. Result! This was a four star hotel, with fancy minimalist interior, leather couches, etc. The view from the window showed the sea and the pretty harbour. Not such a dump after all!

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What a disaster today was!

The forecast was for rain in the morning but clearing from the south by lunchtime. There was no chance of flying, so Wayne and I decided to go to Barcelona. The day was doomed from the start. We decided not to take the bus basically outside the front door, but to drive to Figueras to take the train. I’ve only been to the train station there once, but was convinced I could find it again. Half an hour later I asked a passerby and found I was on the wrong side of town. The signposting in Figueras was clearly done by the local kindergarten – when existent totally random. We got to the station eventually, but had to wait for over an hour to get the next train, which stopped at every chicken coup from here to Barcelona and took over two hours. On the way, it started to rain…

First stop was Sagrada Familia, the crazy Gaudi cathedral. I had been waxing lyrical to Wayne about how great it was to climb the towers, fantastic views, etc. We paid our 11 euros but the inside of the cathedral is full of scaffolding, so we didn’t linger long and headed for the tower stairs. They were closed due to rain! No warning before we paid, no refunds. What a scam! 10 quid to see a lot of scaffolding, and a bit of cathedral.

By the time we left, it was pouring, so we went to the nearest bar for lunch and we lingered there until we could face the rain again. By this time the rain was accompanied by thunder and lightening. We made it two blocks, but despite our rain jackets, we were getting wet so we sheltered in a cash point vestibule for half an hour while we watched the roads turn into rivers. There is no drainage in Barcelona, it just flows down to the sea…

The day was getting on by this time, and we decided on some indoor activities, but this meant walking to a metro station. Two minutes walking in the deluge had us pop into an Everything is 1 euro shop for disposable plastic macs to wear over our rain coats. Our tops stayed relatively dry, but our bottom halves and shoes were sopping. I was wearing trainers and felt I had two mobile puddles with me.

We were going to walk past La Pedrera on the way to the metro but despite knowing where it was and seeing the roof of it in the distance for some reason we walked past it without actually seeing it. Since we had failed to do anything successfully other than lunch, we threw in the towel and went to the train station to go home. Soaking wet, all we wanted was to get home and changed, but the next train wasn’t for over an hour, at which point we were then told that due to adverse weather conditions all trains were delayed. It was a long, long day!

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Geoff writes: Wayne arrived for a few days holiday, timing it perfectly to get the really bad weather. Basically, it rained most of the day, so we went for a big lunch and a siesta. It did clear a little late afternoon, so we managed to go to Besalu and have a nice walk around and a beer. Pretty cold though – not exactly like it is supposed to be.

Highlight of the day was the Besalu sausage shop – although it’s not a patch on the famous Castellollit sausage museum.

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We woke up to the ominous sound of wind. One look out of the windscreen and we could see the wave bars… Just our average trip to Millau then. We have to drive through the flying Mecca of Millau every trip we take to and from Spain and it’s a lovely place to fly. Shame the weather is usually lousy. Today was our 17th time driving through Millau. Of those 17 times it has been flyable 4 times. Once we couldn’t fly because my arm was in plaster due to a dislocated elbow and I couldn’t even drive for Geoff. The next time Geoff had piled in on the PG a few days before the trip and wasn’t able to drive for me. So we have flown the place a total of twice.

As we were driving towards Millau the sun was rising and the views very spectacular. The pinks and yellows of the sky mixed with the wave and mountains was breathtaking. We stopped off at a service station and could barely open our doors, it was so windy. The wind was also bitterly cold. Both of us went into a mini sulk about leaving the t-shirt weather in the UK to have to put extra layers on in the south of France.

Having written off the flying at 9am, we then looked for an alternative plan for the day. The Rough Guide to France recommended St Guilhem le Desert, a place we’ve seen sign posted 17 times, but never been to. It’s lovely. By the time we got there the sun had come out and we were sheltered from the wind and it was hot. We walked around the village, then out into the cirque behind it. Lunch was a picnic next to a trout filled river. Then off to Beziers, where we managed to walk around for an hour and failed to find a single tourist attraction. We saw them all whizz by on the drive out (what muppets!). We got to Castellfollit in time for a glass of wine on the balcony, watching the sun set. Exhausted now…

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All good things have to come to an end and the weather looks pretty bad for Scotland for the next few days, so we decided to head home. Before leaving Skipness, we walked up the castle tower.

After saying our goodbyes we headed to Tarbert, where we had a quick walk around the town. Next stop was Inverary. This was a real walk down memory lane for me. I spent many summers in this area, but like all people getting older, I was moaning about how everything has changed for the worse. Bring back the old days when the roads were terrible and there were no tourists!

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My uncle had warned us that the weather might turn for the worse and we should consider getting the first ferry to the mainland, in case later ones were cancelled. It was raining when we woke up so we headed to Lochranza and caught the ferry. It was good advice, by afternoon it was howling and gales set in in the evening.

At Skipness we saw uncle Bruce and met his mad Jack Russell, Scootch. She sleeps in a sleeping bag and runs in circles if you chuck her out of it. We chatted, went to Tarbert, went for walks and then Bruce let us have a go on his quad bike. We’ve never been on one before and it was ace. We went tearing around the field in front of the house until we were soaked. And to top it all, excellent venison dinner.

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