|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.