So I spent most of the day today with David and Sumrall wandering around in Taormina. I’d initially wandered into town alone, but bumped into them in one of Taormina’s main squares, and we decided to keep each other company.
What can I say about Taormina? Well, the sun finally decided to grace us with its presence, beaming down onto the island full blast, which resulted in some very grand, truly splendid vistas. There was, of course, yet another church filled with extremely intricate shrines. The novelty here, however, was the lack of a burly lesbian guard demanding that I stop taking pictures, so I snapshotted to my heart’s content. After the chapel, we attempted to get lunch at a local restaurant, but discovered they had no pizza. Honestly…wtf, mate? In Sicily, that’s like a Burger King declaring that they were out of burgers for the day. However, on our way out of the restaurant David introduced me to an interesting concept – geo caches.
Apparently, geo caches are sort of an international scavenger hunt. People take these little objects and hide them in various spots around the world, posting their locations into an international database with coordinates that show up on GPS devices (if you option for it, I presume). The objects are usually stored in some sort of Tupperware and range from pieces of pottery and little bits of artwork to paperclips and pens, to more exotic objects (I didn’t ask, but what would be exotic? Nipple tassels? Cock rings? A full set of Liza Minelli CD’s?). Also in said Tupperware are logs where you can enter your name and, presumably, some sort of ID number indicating that you’ve “retrieved” the cache. You leave the Tupperware for some other enterprising geo cache hunter to find, of course. All of the caches are ranked according to accessibility and obviousness. One might be easy to find, but stuck halfway up the side of a mountain (4 for accessibility, 1 for obviousness), while another might be hidden deep inside a piece of shrubbery just alongside the road (1 for accessibility, but 4 for obviousness). A difficulty of 5 in either situation indicates that special equipment would be needed, such as scuba tanks or mountain-climbing gear. As an additional bit of niftiness, some geo caches contain little tracking devices, which you then pick up and carry with you to another location (presumably another geo cache), and deposit there for someone else to pick up. The owners of those devices can then watch their little bugs travel around the world and live vicariously through the experience (kind of like the Travelocity gnome, I guess.) Some people pick these up as is convenient, while others actively hunt them down as a hobby. David, as I came to understand, had discovered hundreds of these little objects.
The particular geo cache that we were looking for seemed to be hidden a mere four or five hundred from where the pizza-less pizza restaurant was located. As we followed David’s GPS tracker, however, it soon became apparent that the “mere” four or five hundred feet was virtually straight down. We had to follow this winding, looping path down the side of the mountain at something like a 50 degree incline, with David glued to his tracker and the rest of us looking for…something. I had no idea at this point what a geo cache actually looked like – in my inane sort of way, I was imagining this little oaken chest covered with gilt leafing, dusty and cracked with age, similar in its way to the Ark of the Covenant from Raiders of the Lost Ark. I’d heard the word “Tupperware” of course, but I think my image was much more romantic.
Anyway, as we continued winding down the hill, the city walls sort of fell away, the path opening to reveal a steep, rugged slope covered with dry grasses, tall trees, and cacti. The view was spectacular, overlooking the coastline below, and I could see the Crystal Serenity like a toy boat floating over the glittering water. The water down at the beach was that incredible blend of sea blue, turquoise, aquamarine, and cerulean you only see when the water is crystal clear, and even as high as we were I could see the shadows of large rocks underneath the surface. There were large bunches of cacti near us, their tips budding with orange and scarlet prickly pears, and that was a novelty to me. Sumrall informed me that prickly pears were often used to make jam, to which I promptly attempted to very carefully pick a prickly pear. At about the same time, she told me that heavy gloves are usually needed to pick them.
Well the rest of the cactus had giant needles! I figured I could avoid getting pricked if I was careful!
The results were pretty much what you’d expect. I ended up with a forest of tiny spines eating into my fingers like miniature drills, and no prickly pear for my efforts. Learning very quickly to leave the prickly pears alone, I continued down the path trying to pick the individual needles out of my hand while Sumrall looked on and simultaneously winced while trying not to laugh at me. By the time we’d caught up with David, he was already putting down his name into the geo cache. It was, unfortunately, plain blue Tupperware…but I can still dream. Yes I can.
The walk back to Taormina proper was a real hike. The hill seemed rather steeper than when were coming down, and the sun was beating me over the head with a big, flaming nerf bat. We definitely needed a break by the time we got back, so we tucked ourselves into the first pizzeria (with confirmed pizza!) that we found. I don’t even remember what sort of pizza I ordered – only that it was delicious with the liter of house wine we got.
After lunch, we wandered across town toward the Greek theatre, which I knew nothing about but which sounded interesting. I bought a print of Taormina that I thought would look nifty hanging on the wall, as well as (finally) a brown belt to go with my brown shoes. On a random note, the motif of Sicily is apparently a face with three legs running counter-clockwise around it, and it’s kind of freaky-looking. It’s also absolutely everywhere, wrought in porcelain or bronze in souvenir shops and printed on key chains and flags. I question its viability as a local symbol. It feels like Sicily is declaring en masse, “We produce really deformed babies!” (Thumbs up)
The Greek theatre was pretty stunning, and definitely looked its age. The thing was massively open-air, intimidating with it size. I can’t imagine what it must have been like trying to perform in that theatre. Actors back then must have had lungs like hot air balloons. There were also some very grand views of Taormina and the coastline from the edges of the theatre, as the entire structure stood on a cliff at the eastern edge of the city. I took some pretty splendid pictures, if I do say so myself.
David wanted to go back to the ship after we got done at the theatre, but I’d wanted to investigate the Fortress of the Saracens since coming into the city. Problem was, the fort stood at the peak of a mountain that rose imposingly into the Taormina sky – a climb of several hundred feet at least. We had less than an hour to get up to the fort, get back down, and march across the city to catch the last tender back to the ship. (And it was a long, long swim across the bay to where the Serenity was anchored.) Sumrall was game, but David opted out, citing little interest in old fortresses. So it was just the two of us. We nabbed some gelato for the sake of fortitude before trekking north toward the mountain.
The climb was rough. Really rough. The stairs zigzagged endlessly across the side of the mountain, and although the going wasn’t particularly steep, owing precisely to that zigzag pattern, it was very, very, very long and very, very, very high. There were also statues carved into the side of the mountain at every landing, depicting Jesus carrying the crucifix, and about a third of the way up that’s pretty much what the climb started to feel like. I’m not sure what sort of sadistic nun carved those images of the cross-bearing. Maybe she was trying to encourage climbers by reminding them of the trek Jesus made during his last hours, but I can’t say the notion of my climb being compared to a long and painful road leading to agonizing death was particularly cheering. Worse yet, I’d forgotten to bring water, and the pistachio gelato I’d eaten stuck to the inside of my mouth like a layer of warm sugar. I wasn’t really ready to turn back, but the decision to visit the Saracen castle was looking more ill-planned by the minute.
Well, we did make it to the top of the mountain, just a few dozen feet below the castle, and thankfully there was a water fountain waiting for us. Refreshed by a long swig of slightly stony-tasting water, we started the last few steps up to the Fortress of the Saracens and discovered in short order a locked gate barring the last thirty or so feet up.
Well that’s sort of like getting cock-slapped by a twelve-inch boner, isn’t it? Or would that be face-hugged by a nine-inch vulva? I don’t really know the appropriate form of that expression for a gay man. Let’s just say it sucked monstrous donkey dick and leave it at that.
Actually, I was a little too tired to be really upset, and there were certainly some incredible panoramas of Taormina and the seascape on our way up. I snapped a few pictures of the view, the fortress, and the locked gate, and we started our way back down. Not quite willing to admit defeat, however, I spread my arms and ran down the stairs two at a time, screaming, “WHEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” as I went.
No, I’m not joking. Yes, people stared. No, I didn’t care.
We made the tender, got back to the ship, and watched the terrific fifth show of our cruise: Susan, Richard, Betsy, and Lee Roy put up a series of showtunes and dancing for everyone. I finally got some pictures of myself with the cast, then drifted off to the Silk Road to have some Asian cuisine with David, Sumrall, Sherry, and Rita. I think I might just make an umbrella declaration that every bit of food I’ve had on this trip so far has been incredible, and stop talking about it. God knows I’m going to make myself jealous in the future if I ever come back and re-read this blog.
Tomorrow is Sorrento, which also starts our three-day block without any shows. That’s actually very fortunate, because not only do I have the Rome transfer to worry about, but it means that I have time to work on the programs without feeling like I’m running perpetually late. Wootness!
Anyhoo, I’m pretty exhausted right now – climbing that mountain takes a lot out of you – so this is G, last survivor of the Taormina excursion, signing off.
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