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| Arriving in Sicily |
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| Our first lunch in our tiny red house |
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| Sunshine |
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| Our village, Letojanni |
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| Kitchen, dining/work and TV room |
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| Taormina |
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| Piazza in Taormina |
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| Mt. Etna from Taormina |
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| Picnic in our Letojanni hills |
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| Early February bloooming |
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| Teo having a bath in the salad bowl |
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| Green valleys, peace, cherry blossoms and ave Maria |
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| 2000 moh, Etna |
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| Mikkel rev on the way down |
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| I am supposed to be wild, I just like your snacks too much! |
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| The land of citrus |
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| Isolabella in the back, Bella in the front |
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| Storm |
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| Celebrating auntie Christine |
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| Auntie Christine and uncle Christian |
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| Misha and her friend: pus |
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| Our favorite picnic stop |
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| The king |
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| Gelato decissions |
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| Ragusa |
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| Caltagiorne, the ceramic city in Sicily |
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| Our beach in Letojanni |
We arrive in Sicily by train at sunrise, small eyed after a frightening, squeeky, fast and bumpy trainride from Rome. I thought I could sleep anywhere, but after the conductor came in and wished us goodnight and by the way: remember to lock the door properly, I felt slightly worried what kind of night this would turn into. After a happy meal in a red box full of fried nutrients we went to bed. I was spooning Teo on the 30 cm wide lower bunk with a tiny sheet on top listening to all the sounds as we blasted through southern Italy on our way to mafia terretory. It felt like a long night!
We made it safe and richer in one more experience.
Letojanni, our fishing village was not awake when we arrived and we started regretting what we had packed with us from Asia of extra souveniers. Just past six in the morning it was us a few birds and the sun up. I have to admit a taxi, a chubby, old woman selling fresh bread and coffee, maybe some fresh fruit would have been seriously ok, but no.
Eventually we find our way and our tiny Sicilian 'hut' equipped with fresh blood oranges from Cramen's garden, three tiny floors of colourful interior taste and a balcony with sunshine and view of the sea.
Letojanni is a sleepy fishing village in February. Old men mending their nets, drinking espresso and wisteling at the girls. The area surrounding is wild, steep, green and full of citrus trees. Small throw up roads will take you in to the inner circles of beauty and it is all worth it. On a mountaintop in a tiny village, overlooking bon fires and rooftops we felt ave Maria into our souls as it came thundering down the mountains from a church holding onto its ground.
Taormina. Ah. Beautiful.
Piazzas with checkered stones, old castles and amfi theathres, happy cats, even happier artists never having to leave for a new, good object. On a sunny day you glance right over to Etna. I had no idea how close it was, how big and how beautiful. We drove up there one day, saw snow and realised how little we had actually missed that part. It was cold and wet but fun to have touched.
Ragusa, reaching for the sky and Caltagiorne the ceramic heaven, fantastic places well worth a visit.
The rest is all laughter. It is so what we wanted it all to be. The dust floury women working on their dough magic behind a hole in the wall with dingle dangle. They smile and serve you the juiciest wonderbreads, biscotti, focachia with olivio negro or sundried tomato. The little three wheeled cars driving around with a fluffy dog and a man passed 70 looking for new impressions. The hills, the flowers, the oranges and the colour of the ocean. The mafia, hmm. you see a lot of men, old men. They hang out in crowds, they wear black, smoke and drink a lot of coffee. One gave us a bag of lemons from his tree, maybe his mafia tree..
The last day was spent playing by the boats and having seafood risotto outside with the seabreeze, seaguls, a kitten.
As our landlady put it: Thank you for you.
