Mays roadtrip

I am on the boat that helps us cross the Strait of Messina. On every lane stands a busy waving little man directing you to the right spot. Even if there is a car in front, behind, and next to you, the man keeps waving his hands busily. Hurry up, the boat is leaving. The girls are a bit scared and would rather stay in the car, but the heat drives us out to the upper deck and the fresh air. The smell of the ship, the burnt gasoline smell in the engine room, the green-painted steel of the hallway, it takes me back to when I lived on a ship with my parents as a captain's daughter. We must have visited the Strait of Messina too, but we probably sailed through it while wrinkling our noses at this thirty-minute crossing.

It's quite a journey from the boat to Taormina, I keep forgetting how big Italy is. After a solid hour, we turn up the rocks of Taormina. Fear of heights is not a plus when driving here. Fear of concrete rot and doubt about the quality of Italian roads are not either. The road winds up over concrete pillars about fifty meters high. I decide to look at the sea and mantra the words of my grandfather: ‘a person suffers most from the suffering they fear.‘.

Suddenly I see the letters of Hotel Excelsior, could it really be? Indeed. The first hotel adjacent to the village is ours to have. We are welcome, the car is driven away, and the rooms are shown. Bel and Iggy sleep quite far around the corner, but they can handle that. Flo is with us. Tired from the journey and overwhelmed by all the impressions, she asks for her pajamas and crawls into bed. I lie down next to her with my laptop open. 'Do you really not mind?' my three loved ones ask as they peek their heads around the door. Really, really not, I nod. Time for a solid session of unsubscribing from newsletters that fill my inbox daily and to stretch my stiff muscles a bit after those car rides of the past few days.

When the trio returns, I can still shop for an hour with the girls while Ewart stays with Flo. ‘Mom, I think Taormina has knocked Barcelona off the top spot of favorite cities!’ the middle girl dances excitedly around me. They show me everything, there’s even a Dior boutique.

Taormina is indeed a dream. Wherever you look, you see a glass being poured, a menu being handed out, or someone happily walking out of a store with a bag. Streets, steps, beautifully set tables; there is not a single dissonance. Even the tourist shops are charming and exude Dolce & Gabbana-esque vibes. I immediately seize the opportunity with earrings and delicious bath salt from Ortigia, a beautiful brand that refers to Ortigia, the little peninsula within Syracuse. And coincidentally, that is the final destination of our trip.

But first Porto Palo, the culinary pilgrimage of this trip. Because anyone who has eaten at Da Vittorio will be a happier person, so it is said.