A family heads to Sicily and takes in Palermo, Catania and the circular narrow gauge railway around Mount Etna
It took the second thud to rouse me. Worried I’d slept through it, I slid up the blind to find our train pulling into the port city of Villa San Giovanni in Calabria, Italy. Not quite 6am, the last of the night’s sky was taking leave: navy clouds pulled apart before my eyes, a single neon-pink patch igniting the ridgeline of the Peloritani mountains in north-east Sicily.
As I watched the waters of the Messina Strait turn silver in the dawn light, the train jerked and we began to roll the way we’d come. Shunted back and forth, I realised the carriages were uncoupling: this was the moment I’d waited years to witness. Little legs in pink pyjamas appeared on the ladder and my five-year-old daughter climbed down from her berth. “Are we riding on the ferry yet?” Continue reading...
