On the fifth day of our journey to see Solar Eclipse '06, we went on an excursion to Sicily, to see the town of Siracusa (Syracuse). We had such a great day in Pompeii, we were blithely certain that this would just be more of the same. We roused grumpy Alex up out of bed at 7 am, and after a room service breakfast of coffee and croissants, were ready to hit the buses for a tour of the homeland of Tony Soprano.
The debarkation process was similar to the day before, only this time, we didn't walk down a gangplank onto land, we had to go by water tender. We were assigned to bus number 8 this time, and told to wait in the theatre until our number was called. There were a lot fewer people going to Syracuse than Pompeii, so this process went by fairly quickly.
We boarded our tender only to realize that it was, in fact, a lifeboat that had been lowered down to the water. It held about 100 people, so this was not the little white rowboat that you might envision after frequent viewings of Titanic. It was a state-of-the art life vessel, equipped with lights, power, provisions and a roof. I had no doubt that we could have spent a couple of days at sea here without resorting to eating anyone if we happened to be unlucky enough to use one of these for its intended purpose. I've been on smaller, less comfortable ferry boats. Having read Life of Pi
We hit dry land after about 15 minutes on board, and easily found bus #8 and our guide. He was a middle-aged man who greated everyone warmly, slapping everyone on the back like they were his long-lost pool hall buddy. I never caught his name, so let's just call him "Gepetto", since he kind of reminded me of a younger version of Pinocchio's father.
Gepetto had a thick Italian accent, and was somewhat hard to understand. As the bus started to roll, my husband kept turning to me and saying, "Is he speaking English? I can't understand a word he is saying."
Since my mom is Korean, and my dad is from Kentucky, I grew up hearing with a finely tuned ear for deciphering accents. I listened carefully, and reported back to my husband, "He's speaking half English, half Italian." Gepetto seemed to just go with whatever word came to mind, in no particular order. Others around us were scratching their heads as Gepetto pointed out buildings and statues to the left and to the right, punctuating things with a hearty laugh now and then. At one point, he shouted, "Konnichi-wa!" and a sentence that sounded much like Japanese spoken with a heavy Italian accent. The Japanese woman across the aisle from me looked a bit startled as the guide said with a giggle, "Yes, paisanos, I speak-a de Japanese-a! Arigato gosaimasu!" Gepetto then had to turn off the microphone at this point because he was laughing so hard and proceeded to start coughing and slapping the driver on the back. The people on the bus just looked confused and somewhat annoyed, rather than being impressed by this linguistic display.
We wound through narrow Sicilian streets to the main attraction of Syracuse--the Greek Amphitheatre. Syracuse was not a Roman settlement initially, but a Greek one, and was home to Aeschylus and Archimedes. Evidently, this was once a hub-bub of intellectual activity.
Inside the park, we rushed from one site to another, and I could not understand more than a word or two of the explanations from the guide. Inside the park were two different amphitheatres, one Greek and one Roman. I could not tell you for the life of me how the two differed, since both amphitheatres just looked like a big hole in the ground surrounded by rocks. The Greek theatre reminded me of the Hollyrock Bowl in a particularly memorable episode of The Flintstones, where Fred gets to do a concert with Ann Margrock.
From the time we got on the bus, Alex started whining and asking where Ethan was every two minutes like clockwork. Ethan's dad had let us know that they were not planning to debark in Sicily since Ethan was still jetlagged and he needed to just chill out for a day. Ethan's dad was apparently much more astute on this child-rearing thing than us, since Alex was supremely unhappy the entire time, and kept asking when he could go back to the ship and hang out at Kids Club.
During the tour, we stopped in cave that was called "Dionysus' Ear" because of the ear-shaped opening. Evidently, this used to be part of an aqueduct system that collapsed during an earthquake and was rebuilt as an amphitheatre. After a second earthquake, people started scavenging the ruins and taking marble columns to rebuild their own homes, so this was pretty much just a big, dark cave. It was crowded inside the cave, and it was even harder to understand Gepetto's commentary as it bounced off the walls. There was a large crowd of Italian teens on a field trip inside, who kept shrieking to hear the echo. Gepetto led us to a spot in the middle of cave and stopped, turned to face us, and started belting out an aria from Rigoletto. People were a little stunned by this, and perhaps even more stunned by the fact that this man had a wonderful tenor singing voice. Even the packs of roving Italian teens stopped shrieking long enough to just listen. When he was finished, the crowd in the cave gave him a hearty round of applause. "Pavorotti has got nothing on you, my man!" shouted an enthusiastic member of our tour group.
Outside, I stopped to take a picture of Gepetto, and he said, "When you go home, tell people, 'I didn't see any mafia in Sicily, only this singing tour guide!'" He laughed heartily and held up his Bus #8 paddle for everyone else to gather around him.
After much whining and attempts to run away by our son, we cried "uncle" and decided not to continue the tour when the group went on to Ortigia. One of the ship's crew members was along with us on the tour, and I asked her if it would be possible to take the water tender back early, and she said that we could do that. After seeing the Roman Amphitheatre, we scurried back to the bus, only to find that two of our group had lollygagged behind and were shopping. After waiting 20 minutes for them, they appeared and we headed back to the dock, where the group was to set off on foot across a bridge to Ortigia. We said farewell to Gepetto, and boarded a nearly-empty water tender back to the ship.
Back on board, we dropped Alex off at the Kids Club and I went to the spa to get my hair and nails done for "Gala Night" in which, we were told, "Tuxedos would not be out of place." The manicurist was a very beautiful Balinese woman, who looked like a tiny exotic doll. I tried to make a little chit-chat with her and asked her if she liked working on the ship. She gave a few furtive glances around the room, then whispered, "No, I don't." She looked like she was going to burst into tears. She quietly informed me that she had been onboard this ship for nine months. She then proceeded to give me what had to be the worst manicure of my life. I don't get manicures often, and it is something of a treat to me, but this was more like a torture session. I guess I should have kept my mouth shut and not reminded her of how miserable she was being stuck working on this cruise ship, when she could be in Bali.
Following the manicure, a chirpy Italian gal gave me what had to be the Worlds Best Shampoo and Head Massage. At one point, I believe she was grinding her chin into the top of my head (either that, or she'd grown a third arm), since she was massaging my temples and the top of my head at the same time. I fell into a state of bliss and did not want this to end, even though I normally dislike massages of any type. This made the manicure torture session seem like a distant dream and made the trip to the spa worthwhile.
I hurried back to the room and donned my new sparkly dress,
purchased just for such an occasion in the Short & Chunky Gal
department at Nortstroms prior to the trip. Alex was duded up in a
navy blazer, blue and yellow bow-tie, and khaki pants, while Frank wore
a gray business suit. We looked pretty darn good, I must say. In the
dining room, people were nicely dressed, but this being a boatload of
Americans, I didn't see any tuxedos. Europeans don't seem to get it
that American's don't own tuxedos, they rent them. We met up
with our handsomely dressed table-mates, and all had a lovely dinner
together. Alex and Tammy played a few hands of Old Mummy, and she
showed tremendous patience with him. After he wolfed down a plate of
Spaghetti Bolognese, I took him to the Baby Disco, where he could dance
his little heart out. In an odd way, the ship was starting to feel
like home.
The two days after we left Sicily, we spent at sea. For the most part, Alex hung out with his pals at Kids Club, and Frank joined the 1,000+ other astronomy geeks for lectures on the eclipse. There was a lot of activity on the ship, from multi-lingual trivia matches to dance lessons and arts and crafts on deck to slot machines and black jack in the casino to more Vegas-style shows and disco parties. Mostly, I ate great food and napped when I felt like it. This, to me, was the ultimate vacation.
