Taormina sits on its rocky throne, perched above the sea like a sunbathing octopus. Or rather, like a kraken that gave up sinking ships and moved from the Norwegian Sea down south to retire. This kraken grabs souls and won’t let go so easily. On the first day, we were kindly allowed to descend to a beach along one of the kraken’s tentacles, which tentatively led us toward Giardini Naxos boundary. When coquetting with a kraken, one day's not enough, so we were brought back after visiting the gorgeous Alcantara Gorge. And this time, we walked down along another tentacle, the one that pushes Isola Bella farther from the coast, so that woeful bipeds like us have to wade to reach it. Isola Bella, the Beautiful Island, the Pearl of the Ionian Sea. Don’t tell Johnny Depp!
The kraken nested in just the perfect spot, mythological creatures simply take what the ancient gods have to offer. Just look at the views that its gigantic eyes drink in—the very same eyes that tormented sailors in the dead of night. Yet now, millennia later, creased with wrinkles, they merely observe the human bustle. And the natural beauty. Just look at Mount Etna! Sometimes it’s draped in fluffy clouds, at other times it’s puffing away from its volcanic peak!
The descent is rather decent, the kraken blazed the trail with one of the many swings of its dreaded tentacles. People then built a staircase, pretending they were in charge, but we all know who to thank for this path!
The path was adorned with early autumn blossoms and warmed up by sunrays enough to host napping cats. Or even these scrutinizing intruders, assessing whether they’re worthy of walking this very path or should be hissed and meowed away. With our hearts cleansed and brimming with love, we could continue our journey to the Pearl of the Ionian Sea.
Most people don’t have the guts to walk along the tentacle and sneak between cat guardians. The path was people-free, apart from us. Only the last few hundred meters were crowded with tourists and street hawkers honking, shrieking, hawking, and squeaking. Odd birds, some crazy as loons, foisting trinkets for their daily bread. If only the cats knew!
Flying past the hawkers, we finally reached the sea. If it were a tourist season, we would have to swim across sunbathing bodies to take a refreshing dip. Yet in September, you can safely dance through the tourists, sunbeds, and tourists on sunbeds and find yourself a safe spot. We did wade to the island to secure ours, just to be a tad farther from the avian cacophony.
The island has been a nature reserve since 1990, when the local government purchased it from a private owner. The facilities on it were just being reconstructed, so instead of exploring the islet, we merely spent an hour or two swimming by it. We even intended to swim around it, yet Poseidon clearly objected, making the waves rather high for the Mediterranean Sea. Instead, we chilled at the far side of the island for a while, observed by a hungry seagull, and then swam back to our belongings.
Enjoyed this one? Stay tuned for my next Sicilian post!
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