From the Valli dei Templi we drove to the town of Marinella di Selinunte. The town as well as the archaeological site on its door step sit on the coast. We were looking for a B and B called Arcos. After a few hours drive from Agrigento through some lovely scenery we found the street but were unable to find the house. We called while idling in the parking lot at the hotel at the end of the road. I spoke to him but had a hard time understanding. He may have a heavy Sicilian accent, to which I am not accustomed, or he was speaking Sicilian, which even some native Italians have trouble deciphering. We retraced our steps and when we got to the stop light, I told him we were at the ‘semaforo.’ That’s Spanish for stop light. Perhaps it is Italian or Sicilian as well as he then knew where we were, and said he’d come out to the street. We turned around again. There he was a few hundred meters away. We saw that the house had no number, that there is indeed an arch, albeit to nowhere, but it sits behind the gate, invisible from the road. So how are you supposed to find the place? Why would he not resolve the problem- could it have something to do with legal requirements? Italians are notable for the ways in which they avoid taxation, so I would not be surprised that this was exactly the case, as later he refused to provide a receipt for the night.
It’s a lovely place our elderly host has although there’s just one bathroom for the 7 of us. He had to use the same one, thus 7 and not 6, unless he had a facility aside from the one in the house.
As we were unloading our bags in the rooms he told me that he could not find one of the remote control for the air conditioning in one of the rooms. We decided to take that room. I thought that by nightfall it would be cool enough. That proved to be true. Also this way we would not worry about our friends being unable to sleep.
He continued looking around for the remote control. In the process he came back into the room. He asked to enter but before I could say no, he came in. I had no clothes on. Not a huge deal. But a minute later he came in again, without even knocking. I was rather miffed. Then not but five minutes later one of our friends walked in without knocking, as the door was open to allow some air to circulate. I was starting to have a difficult day.
Dinner that night was in town. There were more challenges to come. We managed to drive in the wrong way on a one way street, turned around by people sitting on their front porch facing the port. Then we managed to park too far from the port, where we had just been while going the wrong way, forcing our somewhat hobbled compatriot to walk much farther than necessary. At least it was downhill.
The streets along the way were hacked into the hillside in a maze-like fashion. The route to the sea was not marked. We had to ask a woman who was sitting with neighbors outside in the evening’s cool. She gave us perfect instructions. Keep going down.
We settled on a restaurant in the public square when we finally got there, eating and drinking for an hour or so. As we sat there a priest started to conduct a mass nearby, outdoors and in front of a sort of manger. A small crowd gathered. Perhaps it was a blessing of the fish or some such rather than an ordinary ‘culto.’ At any rate what he was doing could serve for any run of the mill hocus pocus.
Afterwards we went to a nearby restaurant run by a local. His family has had this place for years. He’d spent some time in Australia, spoking English quite well. Good typical Sicilian dishes on a lovely Sicilian coast line night that cooled nicely as the sun set.
The next morning we came to a breakfast table set just outside the ample kitchen. There was coffee – the Italian version, not the American, our host pointed out. It’s a difficult adjustment for people accustomed to a beverage that has a lot more water in it and is not roasted to such a black color. As happened the day before each person had a pastry stuffed with ricotta, a very Sicilian breakfast. Its a far cry from, say, a Dutch breakfast, with hearty bread and slices of cheese and various meats.
The archaeological park is just a few minutes drive. It’s large. On our last visit we were deterred from a complete visit by the distances, so we all selected to take the transportation on offer. You have to walk to the small museum to board, passing by Temple E, one of five temples here. The museum does not have much to offer as almost all the goodies are in the The Antonino Salinas Regional Archeological Museum in Palermo, of which more anon. On our last visit, just two years ago, there was an excellent video that played upon the Greek columns they erected in the large hall, and on the wall behind. This was no longer available, a major disappointment.
Selinunte was an ancient Greek city. There were some 30,000 people at its peak around 490 BCE. There were also Phonecians and native Sicilians in the area. We know quite a bit of its history. Check out the wiki at https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Selinunte
The Acropolis is at the far side of the park overlooking the sea, a gorgeous location for a temple or any other structure.
Our next stop was Palermo. We have a place near one of the main music halls. It’s a beautiful ride. Our place was very easy to find.
I dropped the car off at the rental agency and returned to explore our abode for the next few days. Apparently it stretched between two buildings judging by all the ups and downs in such a comparatively small space. The kitchen is in what must have been a closet. It might have been an afterthought. Other than a microwave it had all the basics. The basics were not in great shape. The moca pot’s handle was broken. The teflon on the pan had been scratched off. These and a few other things would be inexpensive improvements yet our friendly host hadn’t bothered. Soon we were out and about in this busy, friendly and down in the heels ancient city on the sea.