I Borghi Piu Belli D'Italia is a small association that lists "the most beautiful villages of Italy" and there's, you won't be surprised, a lot of them. There's twenty-four in Sicily alone but the only one I visited on my recent Sicilian sojourn was Cefalu. It lived up to the billing. It's certainly got a different vibe to Palermo.
It took me the first day to adjust to the slower pace of life. I'd left Palermo on the Monday lunchtime and taken the train that would. eventually, have gone all the way to Rome (even getting on a boat to cross the Strait of Messina). My journey, however, was just under an hour and included pleasant coastal views as well as a chat to a lovely, younger, couple from New Jersey and an equally lovely, older couple, from Cape Town. Getting chatting to people who you'll probably never see again is one of the most agreeable things about hitting the road and getting amongst it.
Straight away, Cefalu had a lovely feel. A holiday feel. The beach and the sea were beautiful and, unlike Mondello, there were no beach clubs (or very few) so it was accessible, and being accessed, by all. I bought a writing pad (really handy) and a slightly rubbish solar phone charger and, as I was unable to check in to the AirBnB immediately, took a birra all spina and a panini Siciliano at Kioskito and then, after a chocolate gelato, killed more time with another beer, a Menebrea, at the MATE lounge bar.
The digs were up the steep cobbled hill of Via Carbonari and what a cute room it was. It had something of a nautical theme and I climbed the ladder to my bunkbed for a lie down which soon turned it a very much needed, and very pleasant, siesta.
Out and about for my passeggiata I simply had to stop at The Piper for a beer (my mate owns a pub called The Piper in St Leonards on Sea) where they played Summer Nights, Born In The USA, Mr Brightside (everywhere), Don't Look Back In Anger, and Wind Of Change again. Probably not a similar playlist to the one I'd get in Sussex but they did play Another Brick In The Wall and The Piper (UK) is named for Pink Floyd's debut album so that felt appropriate.
There was lots of Springsteen and a blast of Walk On The Wild Side too. While I was sat there some kind of religious procession passed by with a figure of a saint (Mary?) raised high and accompanied by a very smartly dressed brass band of all ages. I took in the beautiful sunset across the Tyrrhenian Sea and had another beer in The Urban Jungle.
At The St George bar, they were showing Como FC on television. Como wear a kit designed to look like a St George's cross which made me think about Britain's homegrown flagshaggers - both those who shag the English and British flag and those who shag the Palestinian one. I also had time to ponder how when you take Euros out of an ATM in Italy the conversion charge means the Euro is now worth more than the pound. You can thank Brexit for that one. The gift that keeps giving.
As they blasted out ELO's Don't Bring Me Down, Toto's Rosanna, and, er, Gary Glitter (which actually sounded brilliant) I found myself thinking about characters like Elon Musk, Donald Trump, Tommy Robinson, and Ben Habib and his dreadful Advance party but also about Italy's own links with fascism and Mussolini, how the centre not holding was always so apparent in Italian politics, and how Berlusconi was like a forebear to Trump and our own British populists.
I was moved on from this negative, though - for me - interesting, line of thinking by chatting to the guy behind the bar who told me he supported AC Milan AND Palermo. Oh, and also his hometown team of Genoa. More teams than Micah Richards that guy!
The next day, after a super comfy lie in in my bunk, I took a morning constitutional, had a granita limona, and got chatting to an older couple from Florida. It was nice to talk to them but it made me realise that I was missing friends from back home so, back in Kioskito - and over another panini Siciliano (they were good) - I had a couple of WhatsApp calls with Adam and Vicki. News from home had generally been bad but talking to both of them reminded me of a what strong friendship group we have.
Then, it was finally time for a hot and sticky, but thoroughly rewarding, ascent of La Rocca ("The Rock"), the mountain that towers over, and dominates, the city. The views were, quite frankly, amazing and I'm not sure my words will do justice to them so, instead, here's some photos.
When I got back down it was time for a gelato (stracciatella) and an appreciation of just how beautiful Cefalu looks in the golden hour. The Piper were playing Bob Dylan, Journey, and Roxette's Joyride (a mixed bag for sure) and I went to Nna Principi for decent, if unremarkable, spaghetti. Lasties were taken in the St George pub (Champions League action on, a very exciting - and very well celebrated by the locals - 4-4 draw between Juventus and Borussia Dortmund) and, never being one to want the night to end, I had a couple of cans of overpriced Revolver lager back in my nautical nook. The next morning I had a tasty vanilla pastry and bought some water and crisps before heading up to the station to take the train to Messina. Which is where my next chapter of the Sicilian adventure will come from.
