Saturday, April 9, 2011

Baroque city of pink stone lures Chippings




NOTO, Sicilia (April 9) -- This classic Baroque city built of pink stone enraptured the Chippings so much that they stayed for two nights. Or maybe it was the 16 euro a night cost of a dorm room bunk bed at the youth hostel.

The hostel, housed in an 18th century palazzo, had beds for 77. But with the departure of a 27-member international cycling group the day before, the seven Chips had the whole place to themselves. They sought out the most distant bunks of the spacious 16-bed dorm to allow for maximum snoring diffusion and all slept well. So well that there were no complaints about a single tepid shower and sink faucets operated with floor pedals.

The Ostello di Noto was a welcome site after a hot 40-plus kilometer ride from Modica in mid-day. After dallying away the morning there, the Chips had a cycle stop at the Cava d'Ispica, a 13-kilometer gorge of cave dwellings and tombs dating back 4,000 years.



The "papa albergotore" (the hostel "dad") turned out to be 29-year-old Davide Civello, an enterprising young man delighted to converse with us in either intermediate English or intermediate Italian. Davide and his father, Vittorio, 67, shared a plastic bottle of the local vino rosso with us and we talked soccer, Berlusconi, farming, masonry, corruption and family life.



Soon it was dinner time (9 pm in Sicily). Davide suggested we go to the Trattoria Delicioza, famous for its marinated fish antipasti and seafood dishes. And, of course, operated by his good friend, Nella. (The 27 international cyclists, Davide told us, had eaten there the last five nights. Nella was wearing a big smile when we walked in.) Four of us had a black squid ink ravioli and looked afterwards like we'd suffered major tooth decay. Despite the black gums, it was delicious.



At some point in the dinner, Davide's 19-year-old girlfriend, Tamara, showed up. She'd already eaten so no black lips for her. Instead she told Gianni DeR that he looked like Richard Gere. Meanwhile, on an overhead television (even the fanciest restaurants have the television constantly on), there's the Italian version of a Guinness Records competition. The host, a bombastic fellow who looks and acts like Rush Limbaugh, is timing a very large Italian woman as she smashes beer cans with her gigantic right breast.



I'm thinking: We saw a gorgeously restored fresco of the Ascension of Christ in the cathedral dome this morning and now, in the evening, a corpulent, dyed blond is using her boobs to crush cans on a TV show. Che e' successo alla cultura italiana?


Jimma luxuriates in Bed No. 9 at the Ostello di Noto.



Bruce, "il Brutto," rests against a seawall outside the fishing village of Portopalo at the extreme southeast of the island. There is nothing but water between il Brutto and Africa.



On a day ride along the eastern Mediterrean coast of Sicily, the Chippings encounter thousands of shuttered homes awaiting the summer season that will arrive like a gale after Easter. This estate sits idle and forlorn facing the sea.

Location:Noto, Italia

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