Some of Caroline Shepard's photos of our day from From Arigento to Trapani and some ruins in between. |
With only three days left, we met for breakfast looking out
into the countryside in Arigento. The peacocks
roamed about and one of the dogs slept under our table as we sat. It was hard
to leave, really hard to leave.
Still, we hit the road for a two and a half our drive to Selinunte, the Western
most bastion of Greek civilization in Sicily.
Founded in 628 BC, the ancient city has been subject to Punic Wars,
invasions, battle after battle with Carthage.
The remains of this Hellenistic civilization were only rediscovered in
1831. We wandered through the Acropolis
and remains of the other temples dedicated to Hera and Apollo, climbing on
rocks, wandering through a query of stones and remains.
We were there much of the day.
Its hard to describe how one feels rumbling through such
relics of temples, monolithic columns still extending into the sky, overlooking
the ocean and it seems time itself.
The ocean in the distance looked delicious.
We’d have to make it to Trapani before we could jump
in. So we listened to Patti Smith
albums, talked about punk and poetry and the trip winding down, looking at the
majestic hills and cities we were going to have to miss. We debated making an hour or two for a trip
to the Archaeological Museum in Palermo on our way to the airport, where more
of the arts and materials from Salinunte remain.
Trapani looked almost empty as we made our way in. There seemed to be more poverty, more people asking
for money, hustling. Guys posing as
parking attendants asked for cash as I parked.
A woman with her child asked for money at dinner, with a desperate look
on her face. The trip about over, I caved. Poverty has been everywhere this trip, but I felt
it more in Trapani.
Still the city is just lovely. The beach along the city walls was filled
with blue waters, clear. We played and
searched for sea glass, dipping about, swimming, lounging, gazing at the
ancient city in the distance. These are views one just does not see in the US.
At dinner, we ate cous cous and fish, octopus, mussels, and
drank beer, as the city opened up for us.
A band started to play. The whole
city seemed to be there, elders, kids, even a dog sleeping about. It’s hard to go wrong in Sicily. August is cooler than New York. The beauty of the street, the people, and
landscapes extends far into the distance and the mind’s eye.
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