Happy Birthday Mum – I am not allowed to mention that she is 83 years young today.
We wanted to investigate the local town of Cefalu (pronounced like a cook with a weak bladder – Chef-a-loo). The good news was that there was a bus that would get us there. The bad news was that it left the campsite at 07:25. We set the alarm for 06:30 (this was supposed to be a holiday!) and were at the bus stop before 07:20, which was a good job as it was early.
Cefalu is on the coast with the old town set under a huge rocky outcrop known appropriately as 'La Rocca'. The modern town sprawls rather untidily inland but the old town is very pretty with the cliffs of La Rocca as a backdrop. We were too early to climb La Rocca as it didn't open until 09:00, so we headed for the Duomo that opened at 08:00. The guidebook said that we should get there early to avoid the coach loads of tourist and we certainly did that. Roger II built the Norman Cathedral in 1131 and it boasts the oldest Sicilian church mosaics, created in 1148. These are similar to and perhaps provided the inspiration for those that we failed to see in Monreale. They cover a much smaller area than Monreale but are nonetheless very impressive with their gold background.
It was still too early for La Rocca so we headed for the weekly market held well outside of the old town probably because the old town is too crowded to fit it in. On the way we stumbled upon the fascinating Saracen washing area. We had an enjoyable wander through it buying nothing although I was tempted by the very long silver eels coiled up in boxes. A strange vegetable also caught my eye – like a giant chilli or a very thin cucumber, over 1 metre in length.
It was time for the long climb up La Rocca where we were met by the custodian near the gate. He booked us in, confirming our nationality and warning us to only go as far as the church and temple as the rocks above were dangerous when wet. The weather was overcast but it hadn't rained yet – he obviously knew something we didn't. We admired the 'Temple of Diana' shown as 5th century BC but actually a much earlier construction built of Cyclopean blocks and probably a 9th century BC temple to Artemis. It had been modified in the 5th century to add classical doorways and had been used much later as a church. The views over the old town were lovely and we spent some time looking out over the town and sea whilst phoning my mother to wish her a happy birthday.
It had started to rain and we soon understood the custodian's advice as the limestone, full of intriguing fossils, became very slippery and we had to descend with care. We just got out of the main gate, still well above the town when the heavens opened. It poured down and we were stuck in the open. We sheltered as best we could under the trees but the rain soon started coming through and we ran down to try to find some proper shelter. We ended up huddled together on the doorstep of an old building on a steep street, legs either side of pot plants and pressed against the door to try to avoid water coming down and splashing up. And then the rain got heavier still with the narrow street funnelling the water from La Rocca down into the town. We couldn't move – the street was a fast flowing river with the water 2 cm deep. Further down the street we could see water cascading down the steps of a joining street, doubling the volume of water. We were trapped there for over 20 minutes until the rain finally subsided and the water level in the street dropped. All ideas of further investigation of the town were dismissed – we were drenched and as quickly as we could we found a restaurant to have a leisurely meal. It was an excellent meal but when we left after one hour we were nearly as wet as when we arrived. The bus left at 14:00 from the train station and we shared it with all of the college students who must have been amused to see the two drowned tourists.
Back at the campsite we changed into dry clothes, arranged the wet clothes (including those that were supposed to be drying on the line outside) around the van and switched on the electric fan heater to accelerate the drying.
I decided to have a shower as I needed to get a little wetter. I have an uncanny knack of choosing the wrong shower at campsites. For example, at the last campsite Jane reported that the showers were excellent so I went along, stripped off and then discovered that my shower was only lukewarm and water only came out of the nozzle in a very restricted area. I then spent the next 10 minutes desperately trying to manoeuvre myself so that the squirt of water hit the correct part of my anatomy. This time I wasn't going to make the same mistake. I checked the first cubicle – most of the shower head was blocked, the same problem as before. The next cubicle however had excellent water distribution and was wonderfully hot, in fact I had to turn the temperature down. I stripped of and piled my clothes in dry area and stepped into the shower. It was one of those showers where pushing a button gives a timed amount of water and you need to keep pushing it to get more. Some of these are hopeless in that the time is so short that you have to lean permanently on the button to provide a flow. This one was very good and gave a reasonable period of time between pushes. However there was a catch. Part way through the time, the water suddenly went very cold for a few seconds before going back to normal temperature. I thought that I could prevent this by pushing the button again before the cold period. It was at that point that I discovered that the same sudden but temporary temperature drop happened as soon as the button was pressed. My more hurried than intended shower was punctuated by me jumping in and out of the shower trying to anticipate the cold phases.
The sun then came out and we were able to drink tea sat in a patch of sunshine on our pitch. We are flanked by two huge motorhomes, one British and one German, each one only occupied by two people. The British couple obviously like their own space – he sits outside smoking and I haven't even seen her - and attempts at communication have only resulted in curt acknowledgements. The German couple are more friendly and I have a theory as to why they require such an enormous motorhome. We were sat drinking tea (we are after all British) and the strains of organ music drifted across. This went on for some time and I established that it was not recorded due to the very occasional mistake. I have to admit to a rather strong dislike of organ music with the possible exception of some classical church organ pieces but Jane quite enjoyed it. I was also able to establish that it was the lady who played given that the husband, possibly to get out of the way and to avoid hours of said music, spent a long time emptying the grey water and the toilet and filling up with fresh water. Anyway, I am sure that this is why they have such a large van. At a push of a button, the four-poster bed folds down and slides horizontally to allow a full-scale Wurlitzer organ to rise from the bowls of the cellar (these huge vans must surely have a cellar) with the lady sat at the four-storey keyboard pulling organ stops with gusto. Dry ice supplies the smoke effects but probably only when there is an audience. I have thought about asking to have a look inside their van but it would probably be a great disappointment – it is better to keep some mysteries in life.
Photos: The Christ Pantocrator mosaic in Cefalu's Duomo; The Saracen washing area; Cefalu's Via Microscopile (actually Vicolo Monteleone but it doesn't sound as good); Cefalu Old Town with the dominating Duomo itself dominated by La Rocca; The highly defensible gate in the first wall of La Rocca.
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