Our first full day in Sicily was a Sunday, and we started it very slowly.
Breakfast was the four slices of pizza left over from the previous night. Being in Italy had its perks: the apartment came with a one-litre bottle of olive oil and a 500-millilitre bottle of balsamic vinegar, so we dipped the pizza crusts in both.
By Day 48, the idea of simply doing nothing had become increasingly attractive. On the other hand, this was our first full day in Sicily and a proper day off, so it felt as though we should make at least some effort.
When we booked Castellammare del Golfo, the plan had mostly been to relax and spend time at the beach. Then George pointed out that one of the main things to do nearby is visit the Zingaro Nature Reserve—either hiking along its coast or taking a boat trip with some snorkelling.
The boat option sounded good, so Hugo went to investigate. Conveniently, there was a booking office about 100 metres from our apartment.
On the way, he unexpectedly found a gathering of classic Fiat 500s beside the harbour. Rows of brightly coloured little cars drove past while people stopped to watch, turning a simple boat-booking errand into another sightseeing opportunity.
The booking office had nothing available for Sunday, but there was space on a Monday-morning trip, so we paid a €20 deposit and added an actual commitment to our otherwise empty schedule.
Back at the apartment, we used the washing machine. We had washed clothes by hand regularly, but this was only the third time since leaving Germany that we had access to an actual machine. Being able to put everything inside and let it do the work felt surprisingly luxurious.
Then began the great Sunday debate.
Should we go out now or in half an hour? Should we go to the beach? Perhaps we should first sit down for a little longer?
Eventually hunger forced a decision and we went looking for lunch. Unfortunately, we had missed the important Sicilian detail that many places close during the afternoon. Our first food expedition therefore ended back at the apartment with us eating some of the breakfast snacks left by our host.
Late in the afternoon, we finally packed our swimming things and walked down to Cala Petrolo, the little beach below the old town’s high tuff wall and close to the castle. By then the sun had disappeared behind the mountain and the beach looked considerably less inviting.
The swimming things had come all that way, but they were only going for a walk.
Instead, we continued around the old town and harbour, including the Arab-Norman Castle that gave Castellammare del Golfo its name—roughly, “the castle on the gulf”. The first fortress was built by the Arabs in the tenth century on a rocky spur connected to the mainland by a drawbridge. The Normans and Swabians later enlarged and fortified it, and it was altered repeatedly as control of Sicily changed hands.
Day 47 had introduced us to Castellammare’s narrow streets and lively harbour, but this was our first proper look around the town in daylight.
We also popped into the Chiesa Madre, the Sanctuary of Maria Santissima del Soccorso, just around the corner from our apartment. The church stands on a rocky spur about 25 metres above the sea. Its foundations are much older, although most of the Baroque building visible today dates from the eighteenth century.
Then we tried finding food again.
This attempt went much better. At La Fonderia Panineria-Friggitoria, we ordered a Completo for €6. Porchetta is pork rolled with herbs and slowly roasted until tender, and this one came with aubergine, grilled courgette and primo sale, a fresh Sicilian cheese.
The sandwich was excellent—and, cured meats like salami and prosciutto aside, it was the first proper pork we had eaten in a long time.
We also shared a €5 misto caldo: chips, potato croquettes and panelle, the thin Sicilian fritters made from chickpea flour.
From there we wandered towards the market near the Ferris wheel, where we met the truffle man.
One taste led to another, and we left with a small jar of truffle-and-mushroom sauce and another keyring for the souvenir collection.
Just as we were about to leave, a tiny gelato truck caught our attention. It was Gelateria Artigianale Al Castello, and its perfect five-star rating seemed worth investigating.
For €3.50, we could get gelato served in a brioche with two enormous scoops. Ice cream in what looked like a sweet hamburger bun sounded slightly wrong, which was reason enough to try it.
We chose amarena and chocolate.
It was cold, messy, enormous and ridiculously good. The soft brioche with the melting gelato made far more sense once we had taken the first bite.
After that, our lazy Sunday had done enough. We headed back to the apartment and called it a day—with tomorrow’s boat trip booked, clean clothes hanging up, no swim completed and considerably more Sicilian food eaten than our failed lunch attempt had suggested.
The Fiat 500 gathering in motion:
Leave A Comment