Road Trippin'

Picture it: Sicily, 2025. It was a wet and cold Thursday afternoon. The propane space heater, the only source of heat in the farmhouse, was pumping the room full of fumes and what little heat it had to offer. An email arrives in E’s inbox. Our unit on Maranai is ready.

Exactly 37 days post-arrival to the island, Uncle Sam had assigned us a place to finally unpack our bags and lay our heads (for the time being, anyway). Although E and I were gunning for off-base living, the rule at this particular installation states that folks must live on base for a minimum of 6 months if occupancy is at 92% or below. Or something like that. Really a dumpster fire of a way to run things when you have people clamoring to get both on and off base, but alas, I am merely along for the ride.

Maranai

There she is. A nice view of Mt. Etna on one of my walks around The Yard, I mean Maranai.

Maranai is a 500+ unit housing complex, consisting of 3–4-bedroom townhouses located minutes away from each base’s gate. It is also located in the middle of a cow pasture swampland. It is encased inside of a prison fence, complete with barbed wire and holes big enough for stray farm dogs to sneak through. Mt. Etna (whom I cannot believe I have not gushed over yet because I’m absolutely obsessed with her) looms in the near distance. It is a fantastic option for folks with kids, especially since it’s near the DoDEA school and has a myriad of activities geared towards families. In fact, when we first arrived, E commented on how all of the kids running around looked like little rabbits. But hey, I’m just happy to see kids playing outside. For us, it severely lacked the culture and peace that we crave. E has been on a night shift a couple of times since we moved here and he can simply not get any sleep during the day due to all of the loud activity going on outside. Maranai is basically, for lack of a better term, “Little America.” For those who work on base, you come home just to see all of the same people you just saw on base all day. Privacy barely exists. And the drama that unfolds on the Facebook pages dedicated to Maranai residents does not disappoint (they put Nextdoor to shame).

Living on Maranai has also taught me what a Dependapotomus is. I had no idea until now. Having only been an Air Force wife for a little over a year now, I obviously have some catching up to do.

Our loaner chair goes by the name Optimus Prime, as he looks like he's about to transform at any minute.

However, Maranai is not all bad. We were still waiting on household goods, so the base supplied us with the most beautifully uncomfortable furnishings known to man (I swear the couch has given me sciatic issues). But it’s nice that they supply things. The unit we received was flawless, very clean and had no issues (I’ve heard horror stories from other residents, so we got lucky). We’re near our friends, so hanging out is super convenient and easy – we’re all just a 5-minute walk away from each other. We feel safe and secure within the guarded gates. We have a little backyard, full kitchen, tile throughout and the Mac Daddy prize of them all – AMERICAN APPLIANCES. Honestly, a part of me debated wanting to stay in Maranai just for a full-size washer and dryer alone.

But nah, we’re here to adventure, aren’t we?

Oh! We bought a car (see reference pic above). A brand new 2011 Ford Escapeeeeee. It’s been an island beater for the past several years. The family who owned it before us was off to Japan. It came with a built-in disco light (there’s something wrong with the wiring thingy I don’t know car lingo speak things so the dome lights flash off and on as you’re driving down the road) absolutely NO shocks at all (so it’s like a rollercoaster, weeeeee) and the power steering sometimes just decided to turn off when you’re driving on a major highway. Other than that, it’s a beaut! E calls it our “Escape from Maranai” edition. I just like to say a little prayer and do a sign of the cross every time we get inside and crank the engine.

So, since we got a car and we’re living out of a suitcase less than we were before, E and I got busy exploring Sicily. And I must say…Sicily has won my heart. As chaotic and messy as some things are, it only adds to the beauty and majesty of this island. I’ve fallen in love with the people, the culture and of course, the food.

To recap our first 3 months of living, exploring and honestly, just surviving in Italy, I’ll share highlights and photos (including the food) from each area we’ve explored so far.

Taormina

Any White Lotus Fans would recognize the coastline immediately. This was our very first outing outside of our farmhouse stay in Scordia and the confines of Maranai. Our awesome friends drove us up there for the day, first stopping at this gorgeous little café directly facing the Ionian Sea called Mythos. It is here where I learned about “parking attendants” (rando folks non-affiliated with any parking company whatsoever, who offer to “watch your car” for a mere euro). Apparently, you just give the man a euro, there’s no use in fighting it. Plus, he may or may not keep an eye on your car and protect it from nefarious characters treating your vehicle’s contents as a rummage sale. (Joke’s on them, the Escape is of little to no value and has absolutely nothing in it except a smashed, limp roll of paper towels).

It is also here where I had my first Arancini upon arrival in the land of Sicily.

My life changed forever.

This rice ball, stuffed with goodness ranging from traditional Ragu (meat, cheese, tomatoes, peas, etc.) to Pistachio (self-explanatory) is fried into a round shape with what can only be described as a pointy hat feature on one end. This Sicilian snack has quickly become our favorite and we are determined to order one everywhere we go. My goal is to try all of the flavors before I leave the island for good.

On the long, winding road up to Taormina, the views are absolutely breathtaking. I don’t know if anyone prepared me for the beauty this area holds. We parked (no parking attendant this time) and trudged up the hill to the top of the city where a beautiful basilica sat. As I overlooked the Ionian Sea and the rest of the cities that dotted the Sicilian coastline, I took a deep breath of gratitude and soaked in the late afternoon sun. Was I seriously living this life or was I dreaming? I think it was then that the reality of living in freaking Sicily started to sink in.

And what trip to a beautiful seaside town in Sicily is complete without sipping wine from a rooftop terrace. It’s exactly what we did. How did small-town Ashley, who had 60 kids total in her high school graduating class and who lived the first 12 years of her life in a double-wide mobile home, get to experience this? Well, I wish I could take some of the credit for my hard work, perseverance and tenacity - but this my friends, can be attributed to The Man Upstairs, the US Air Force and my husband’s hard work, perseverance and tenacity. I mean, I guess I had something to do with choosing him, so there’s that, right? (It doesn’t hurt that he’s damn handsome and also the most genuinely amazing person I know). I also have my parents to thank, who always pushed me to want more out of life than the status quo. Either way, I lucked out big time, both with this opportunity and with amazing loved ones.  

Ok, enough mushy prose. I’ll just turn this around really fast with pictures from the inside of the rooftop café. True friends would never give you a fair warning for what you’re about to witness in a place like this. And our friends were indeed, true friends. It’s an adorable, three-story stone building jutting out on the corner of a winding Taormina alley way. The inside is old in the beautiful, eclectic sense. Each level of the café seemed to have another nook, another corner to explore. After waiting for the bathroom (which I asked for in French – I start speaking other, wrong languages when I panic apparently) it wasn’t until I stepped into the wooden doors that I realized something about the décor was odd. I probably can’t do this justice through words, so I will just share these NSFW photos below.

Dicks. Everywhere. It’s like the scene in Superbad and I suddenly feel surrounded by phallic objects of all shapes and sizes. The best part is that our friends didn’t even warn us, and that makes me love them even more. I’ve decided I’m not giving away the name of this café, because E and I expect to do the exact same thing if any of you come visit. Be warned.

Oh, and the café had an awesome almond wine with a view. I’d highly recommend it if you like good drinks and have the humor of a 12-year-old boy like myself. Home sweet home!

Syracuse

Part 1

Within our first month of living in Sicily, E and I found our favorite place. Syracuse, pronounced Siracusa, is it. We’d heard from others that it was beautiful and amazing – a mix of ancient and seaside living. It was founded by Ancient Greeks, became a part of the Roman Empire and along the city streets you can find ancient ruins. There are multiple amphitheaters (one which is still in operation – a visit on my list for when their plays start up this season), a temple, a fortress and just history everywhere you turn. Archimedes was born here, battles were fought in the Gulf of Syracuse and for a girl who is used to the oldest artifacts being from circa 1776, this absolutely blows my mind.

Syracuse is also a great place to eat and drink your face off.

Our first trip to Syracuse was a day trip only. We parked and walked into the center of old town, known as Ortigia (which is actually it’s own little island itself). By this point in our Italian indoctrination, E and I had not quite got the lunch/dinner thing down pat. If you’ve ever traveled to Italy, or a lot of countries in Europe, you know that most restaurants that serve lunch will close about 1-1:30 PM. They will not open back up until well after 7 PM. For some reason, E and I always seem to find ourselves on the brink of utter starvation and thirst right after 1:45. And we’re screwed every time.

So, needless to say, our first Syracuse day was one of those days. However, it was before 1 PM so I knew we had time to jump into a restaurant before they took their riposo. We made it to the temple. Cool. We made it to the fortress. Cool. I wanted to enjoy all of these things, but the burning hole in my stomach was becoming too much to bear. I seriously try to keep my emotions in check when I’m Hangry™ but as E knows, he has about 5 minutes after the first mention of hunger pains to deliver on the goods.

It was not one of those times to walk around aimlessly, discarding perfectly good restaurant options in our wake. So, when we happened upon a small trattoria in a shaded alleyway, we let the bald man with a white moustache lead us to a table for two inside. We honestly didn’t have a choice in the matter. We had stopped for .2 seconds to look at the sign on the door, and he motioned at us to follow him. He seemed like he knew what he was doing, so naturally, I followed him. It was reminiscent of Little Italy back in NYC, where men in double breasted suits yell niceties to you with promises of an amazing meal should you step inside. So basically, this mustachioed Ortigia man walked so the NYC men could run.

A liter of wine. I like the metric system.

We were not disappointed. I quite liked someone telling me to come in, sit down and eat. The entire restaurant was staffed by men over the age of 60, yelling Italian phrases back and forth to each other, only interjecting with English when speaking to us. The quaint interior reminded me of a great-grandma’s house, with antiques and framed paintings adorning the walls. You could smell everything the chef was cooking in the kitchen – combinations of seafood, garlic and onions. We were asked if we wanted wine (the answer is always yes here) and we were brought a liter of house white wine. We ordered an appetizer (in Italian, because learning) of various salami, cheese and fresh olives. And when I tell you that there’s just something different about the food here, it’s a true statement. You can taste the freshness; the love and care that the farmers then chefs pour into their masterpieces. Hell, a piece of crusty bread with the olive oil they placed in front of me nearly brought me to tears (and yes, I’m an “emotional eater” both in the sense that really good food makes me tear up and that the limit does not exist to the amount of cheese I could eat when having a down day).

I ordered my very first bottarga, which I had been dying to try since seeing it featured on a Stanley Tucci episode and most likely talked about by Anthony Bourdain at some point (RIP). The salty fish roe sitting on top of a perfectly curated plate of pasta and clams was heavenly. Syracuse seems like the place where I can fulfill my seafood indulgences.

After lunch, we turned a corner and found the sea. We took a few photos, called some family members to catch up and then decided to walk back in the direction of the car. That’s when we turned another corner to find what we know refer to as The Champagne Bar.

I’m sure you can imagine what happened next. We spent the rest of the day here, indulging in the true Italian lifestyle of a lazy Sunday afternoon spent in the sun, enjoying the company of your loved ones while sipping on aperitifs. It was this experience alone that prompted E and I to come back for a long weekend stay, and what ultimately solidified our decision to want to live by the ocean during our 3-4 years here.

Syracuse

Part 2

The second visit to Syracuse/Ortigia was a cold and wet Valentine’s Day weekend. We didn’t get the best start to the trip (my fault) and as we saw the death garage we were going to have to park the rental car in (this was before the Escapeeee) that set the tone for the evening. Naturally, GPS did not take us anywhere near the entrance of the garage. We had also decided to bring the furball along, so that added an extra layer of complexity.

Visiting beautiful, ancient cities is absolutely wonderful. Trying to drive in them and find parking? Not so much. As we descended into what can only be described as an actual cave, we parked the car underneath the earth’s crust near the magma layer and tried to find a way to pay. One swinging incandescent bulb hung above our heads and I heard a voice yell out from the rafters. And just like that, there he was, standing in front of us, cigarette butt full of ash and ready to be tapped at any moment. In our broken Italian and his broken English, we somehow put our names down in what can only be described as an accountant’s spiral bound notebook from 1988. The smoking man said we will just have to pay him (cash, of course) when we come to pick the car up 3 days later. The most amazing feat of all is that the man never removed the cigarette from his mouth the entire time during the entire conversation.

I truly commend folks who own dogs in a big city. I really do. Because my dog is not a city dog. He would probably equate to a family member of the Beverly Hillbillies if he was a human. And I love that about him. However, navigating a fish-out-of-water dog through ancient cobblestone streets while hauling two suitcases in the middle of a Sicilian afternoon downpour is not a recommended activity. And during this downpour, just seconds before we got to the large wooden door of our Airbnb, he took a dump. On the sidewalk. In the rain.

We were both at our breaking point.

After getting to our Airbnb, there were of course, like 8 different doors with 9 different keys we had to navigate (it was more like 3, but I have a penchant for the dramatics). There was a crew of construction workers with trucks and pails and tools in the courtyard we had to navigate as well. Once I got to door number 7, we’ll call it, I was very close to a breaking point when I pulled the key out from the lock and half of it was missing. It looks like the key had a breaking point as well.

Side note, if you’re ever travelling in Italy, be careful with the older keys you may receive. The doors and locks here are SUBSTANTIAL and built to last, but these keys wear over time. E and I have broken two keys since moving here only 3 months ago. Some food for thought!

Apparently, it happens with those types of keys often, because the Airbnb owner fixed it in like 5 minutes. After that, the entire trip was amazing - from eating arancini for almost every meal to getting tipsy at a tiny café on the water during a rainstorm. Once the café owner found out we had had two weddings, one in Vegas and the other in Normandy, France, he told us we now needed to have a third wedding in Ortigia, right there at his café. He said he’d move the tables and chairs and even dress up like Elvis for us.

Elton even decided his favorite place to poop in the city was right on the cobblestones, just like his Greek and Roman ancestors before him. And our rental car survived the weekend – the man with what looked to be the same cigarette took my 60 euros and scratched our name out of the old accountant’s book, a relic to be found under piles of dust and earth once this garage finally collapses into the sea. Needless to say, Syracuse has my heart.

Central & West Sicily

Spur of the moment day trips are the best. I remember waking up that Sunday, after a long week of work and battling with the housing office. I told E, “I don’t care what we do today, I just want to be outside and to see something old.” So, that’s exactly what we did. We loaded up in the Escapeee and headed west.

Now that I’ve been through Austria and Bavaria (a story for the next blog) I will say that the central part of Sicily looks a lot like the rolling hills you see in that area, just on a smaller scale. It’s basically like looking at the Windows 95 screensaver. It’s breathtaking and is probably the most beautiful drive we’ve done so far on the island.

We head towards Villa Romana del Casale, an ancient Roman villa/bathhouse constructed in the 4th century AD. There’s just a certain energy to being around structures that are this old, yet still partially intact. It’s almost like you can still feel the presence of those who once used this villa – those who lived, slept, socialized, cried, loved and died in this villa. The mosaics, many still holding shape and color, look as if they were completed in the last couple of centuries. This was such a cool place to explore and was completely worth the drive out there.

We stopped at a tiny trattoria we spotted on the side of the road on the way to the villa, and in true fashion, we were the only ones eating in the restaurant (we’re always the first to enter upon opening, it seems, because we eat much earlier than the normal population of Italians). However, the restaurant started filling up before we left. A bottle of wine and some artichoke later, I was a very happy lady.

We had wanted to continue our trip to the Valley of the Temples, but upon learning we had chosen our odyssey on the weekend of the Almond Blossom Festival, the massive amounts of tour buses and police barricades had us continue our journey westward.

The (new) west coast.

At this point, I told E that I’d be happy with making our way all the way to the other side of Sicily, just so we could dip our toes in the Mediterranean. And that we did. It was a quick, 20-minute stop, but I’ll never forget my first encounter with the sea on the other side of the island. The beach was sandy and full of relics. We actually found a piece of patterned tile in the sand, which I decided to take home as a souvenir. Could it be from a 4th century villa, washed up by the Mediterranean all these years later? Or could it be from a house undergoing renovations from the 1970s down the street? Who knows – I’ll just let it be my Sicilian artifact from the time we drove across the entire island in one day.

Augusta

Augusta is a chapter still waiting to be written. As of this post, E and I have been officially cleared to move off base, 5 months ahead of when we originally thought we would be moving off base (I honestly don’t get it or the process, but I’m also not complaining). He had some training to attend to in Germany for an entire month, so we knew we needed to move quickly with our home rental decision.

Augusta sits north of Syracuse and is a bit closer to work for him. Since I work from home, I can live anywhere – especially if that anywhere is within walking distance of an ocean. We fell in love with this area while exploring Syracuse and when we started house hunting (which took all of one day after receiving notice we could move off base) we instantly knew this was where we wanted to be.

Of course, this place did not come without putting up a fight with none other than (you guessed it) the housing office.  

However, next week we will be signing the lease on a brand new 3-bedroom, 4-bathroom villa with a pool! There is a view of the sea and of my homegirl Mt. Etna from the balcony. It’s going to be perfect and quiet and peaceful and our little slice of paradise for the next 3-4 years. I’ll have a bakery, café, wine bar and grocery store within walking distance of the house. Elton will be able to sunbathe in any corner of the yard he pleases. And yes, we will have officially escaped from Maranai.

Until next time – Ciao Bella!

Greetings from Augusta, Sicily (not Georgia). Arrivederci!