10. Milazzo to Agrigento by Train.

The day after my class ended, Melissa dropped me off at the porto at around 8:00.  We hugged goodbye, grazie mille, I told her for the last time before I boarded the Guintabus to Messina.

I sat down next to an Italian lady while we waited for the train.  When a train turned up and people got off, I asked her if it was our train.  

No, it is up further, she told me.  This one will leave and the other will come.  Are you going to Palermo, she asked?

No, Agrigento, but I have to get off at the Terme Imese, just before Palermo and then take another train. 

Sì.  Are you Dutch? she asked.

No, sono neozelandese.  

Oh, a long way from here, she said.  

Our entire conversation was in Italiano.  

I would not have been able to say a word before the school lessons as the ice had not yet broken and I would freeze before I uttered my first italiano words.  

Learning to speak a new language for the first time is like riding a bike for the first time.  I could read lots of theory about how to ride a bike but until I actually peddled that bike, my brain would not know how to do it.  

I had to practice speaking and build those new pathways in the brain.  Riding a bike is a lot easier!

The train eventually arrived at the station and a crowd gathered near the doors, which eventually opened.  I had been carrying my heavy pack over one shoulder and wondered if there any advantages of a pack when suitcases had wheels.  

Hiking packs should also come with wheels, I thought.  Maybe there were already hybrid hiking packs out there: Hikecases, Suitpacks or Pack-wheelies perhaps. 

I took my pack on this trip because I was going to camp in Portugal at some retreat, with a tent, but that fell through.  Just as well, as it might have been a cult and my brothers would have had to rescue me.  

Instead I booked a bus tour through the country, which cost a lot more than living in a tent up a mountain in mid summer surviving on lentils and green tea.

I was also hiking in Spain after the canal trip in France and needed my pack for that, although I had been seriously hoping there will be somewhere to leave about 10kg of my gear.

The Messina train left on time at 10:40 and went back through Milazzo and all its tunnels connecting the two cities.  I would have taken the train at Milazzo but the station was not close to the town.  

Once past Milazzo at 11:00, the track went through  many towns and cities with their buildings closely lining the tracks.  

The train service ended at Palermo, the city I’d have to return to before flying out to France, but I would have to get off at the prior station at 13:02 and take the train to Agrigento, a lot further south and inland.

I had sat next to the Italian lady I was talking to on the platform and just as we headed into the longest tunnel, she said out loudly, Cos’e’ quel brutto odore?  What is that bad smell?

Just then a strong earthy-mould-like odour filled the train with its thick stench and the passengers all held their noses.   

Going through all these tunnels, I thought back to the tunnel being built in the centre of Auckland.  Weren’t they using a tunneling machine from Italy? 

I have been amazed by the big infrastructure in Sicily with the really tall bridges spanning from one mountain to the next, and even longer tunnels through large mountains of impossibly hard rock.

As the train wound around the coast, I saw bridges so high up in the mountains I wondered how it was possible to build them.  There were beautifully designed bridges that gracefully followed the curves of the hills and then bridges so old, I wondered if they were still safe. 

We went past Tindari with its churches overlooking the city and its beaches with white sand and blue lagoons, and the many towns that sat between the mountainous rural landscapes which were covered in olive trees and greenery.  

From old abandoned stone buildings to beautiful homes dotted along the hillside, no doubt with the most amazing view of the sea below, the public transport of the Trenia offered the tourist a wonderful opportunity to see Sicily at its finest and at a good price. 

Eventually I arrived at the station where I had to change trains.  On the platform there was just a paper schedule of departures as opposed to an electronic display, and fortunately I could read it.  Agrigento. Platform 3.  I set my pack down and sat on the bench seat.  It would be an hour wait. 

An mother and daughter from Argentina sat next to me and the daughter spoke better English than my Italian.  They were going to Agrigento too.  We sat next to each other in the train too but mostly slept.  The view outside didn’t change at all - just a stark landscape with occasional olive trees, sheep, and the odd horse. 

Finally we arrived in Agrigento at around 16:00 and we parted ways as our accommodation was in opposite directions.  They both kissed me on the cheek, Caio!

Using google maps, I found my AirBnB after a ten minute walk up a hill.  Despite the 17kg weight of my pack, it didn’t feel too heavy once on my back, and I even walked past a few travellers who were slowly pulling their suitcases up the uneven cobbled path.

It took a while to find the apartment as the buildings only have a solid wooden door to mark their entrance (which was tucked around the side of a building, up some stairs, the door under a tiny sign, with a nearby lockbox containing my key to get in).

The room was comfortable enough and had a balcony overlooking the restaurant that I would later have a meal at. 

Before I settled in, I had to find the bus station that would take me to Marsala dopodomani, the day after tomorrow.  I eventually the bus stop and actual bus that would take me there.  Perfetto!  I could relax.  

I was glad to be here for two nights as I needed some good wifi (there wasn’t any available at my host’s place in Milazzo) and some personal space, ironically.  

After a long shower, I walked down the stairs and to the restaurant that was below my room.  The first thing I noticed was that the prices were a lot higher than at Milazzo.  

I paid €16 for a prawn linguine with burrata and pistacchio.  It was okay.  I ate it all because I was hungry.  It was also €5 for 150ml of very average white wine, and despite my perfect italiano, the waiter replied in English.  Priced for tourists.  Argh!

Immediately I missed my favourite Milazzo restaurant where my delicious meal cost just €8 and the owner would pour me a full glass of wine that cost just €2.  I had been spoilt!

I had also bought a bottle of sparkling water because the perspiration was rolling off my face.  €3.  

That meal pretty much carved up my daily budget so back to pastries and water for me.  

The evening was balmy and the street now closed to traffic and abuzz with people, from beautifully-dressed women carrying shopping bags, elderly couples walking hand in hand, and sweaty-looking tourists like me.

I didn’t stay long at the restaurant as that burrata, as delicious as it was, was full of cream.  

My stomach grumbled giving me the cue to leave before it escalated, and I walked the twenty fast steps to my room.

Agrigento is a grungy-looking city with decaying buildings.  Their damaged plastered walls stretch to five or more levels, with shops and restaurants on the lower level and apartments above.  

Black wrought iron balconies hang above with plants and flowers cascading from them.  Doors behind shutters, protruding air conditioning units, and graffiti on the lower walls.  

Rubbish litters the curbs along the narrow paved roads, street-cats lounge on the warmth of the brick and scatter when someone gets too close, and cars honk their horns at tourists who walk obliviously in the middle of it all.  

In my first hour on these busy streets I walked past a collapsed man yelling obscenities to everyone who was helping him (or staring at him).  An ambulance arrived with sirens blaring and bundled him into it and quickly left.

I saw a bride and groom dance and kiss as their guests clapped and cheered, and just before I reached my apartment, a very stressed-looking man pushing a two-layered pram almost walked into me.

He was distracted by the sound of his twin babies screaming and I was looking up for any sign of my AirBnB.

I really wanted to go for a walk after dinner but wisely chose to stay in my room and listen to the festivities from inside.  

I think my days of suburban life are as over as my child-rearing days.  The busyness of family life has passed and now I need to find a smaller place where I can be amongst the busyness of others.