Taormina Tourist Trippin'

Just take the bloody photo already - the sun's in our eyes for christ sake

chick in the denim vest gives good bitch face

If you ever drag your butt cheeks to Sicily, you are going to visit Taormina.  I challenge any tourist not to join the rest, and I also dare you to resist sauntering through those cobblestone streets, remarking; "It's just so quaint". Quaint it is, there's no doubt about it.  On the approach you can see the town perched precariously on the top, and side, of a steep hill.  Taormina's buildings are tucked into the slope, just balancing - almost tumbling down.  Just a wander through the centre of town will stir something inside you.  Either the beauty of the architecture, the irritation at being elbowed by another bloody Russian, or it could be your gut after gorging on too many cannelloni and gelati.  If there's ever an incentive to cut back on the Italian food, just take sunset tour past the cafes and ice cream shops and watch the rate of shovelling going down those cake-holes.  That cellulite didn't just spring up from nowhere - I've seen (and personally experienced) the cause and effect.

Yes, yes, very nice

a few old roofs, sea below - also very nice

Yep, Taormina has joined the rest of Italy in being jam packed with overseas visitors (see, I didn't call them 'tourist scum' this time).  Apparently we are here in the quiet season, so if you are thinking of coming in July - get ready.  You may have to physically fight that chubby child for the last scoop of lemon sorbet.  Those streets get packed.  And it's hot.  Bloody boiling actually.

Who knew ricotta ice cream could become my favourite?

just a couple of punters.....

I cut most of the tourists out from the bottom of this frame

But all of this tourism is not a new phenomenon. Visitors have been coming to Taormina for the last 200 years - ever since it became part of "The Grand Tour", that all those wealthy Europeans used to take back in the day - with their servants, trunks, and their annoying pompous accents.  Though, in actual fact, Taormina actually became a holiday destination more than two thousand years ago for Roman senators.  The town itself however,  has existed as a settlement even before ancient Greek times.  There are the incredible remains of a Greek theatre, situated right in front of a smoking Mount Etna.  This is by far the most popular sight in Taormina.  The hoards are absolutely swarming in here.  Grown men actually barged Valli out of the way to get to the ticket counter first.

Taormina has, for want of a better description, been around.  It  passed from the Greeks into the hands of the Romans in about 200 BC, and then to the Byzantines, and then the Arabs.  After the Arabs, the Normans had a go, followed by the Swarbians (dudes from south western Germany - googled it myself), the French and then the Spanish.  What a little trollop.  Although I dare say some of those acquisitions were non-consensual, which makes poor old Taormina actually the victim here people.  Those skank calls were unjust.  And I will publicly apologise.  Anyway, these days, as all dummies know, Taormina is a part of Sicily, which is of course, part of Italy.

 "Quick Bruce!  I haven't had a gelato for half an hour"

Not only does the common man love a bit of Taormina (and I use "common" with intent), but celebrities too, are all over  this place.  Goethe, Alexander Dumas, Johannes Brahms, Gustav Klimt, D.H. Lawrence, Richard Wagner, Oscar Wilde, Truman Capote, John Steinbeck, Ingmar Bergmann, Francis Ford Coppola, Leonard Bergman, Marlene Dietrich, Greta Garbo, Federico Fellini, Cary Grant, Gregory Peck, Elisabeth Taylor and Woody Allen have all dug the shit out of Taormina.  If you don't know who these people are by the way, you are uncultured and uncouth.  These days the celebs are still (apparently) rolling in.

A couple of days ago I walked right by Kirsten Dunst.  I'm humiliated to say this, but I actually got flustered.  My heart beat faster with exhilaration.... I quite like old KiKi.  And despite the reviews, I thought Marie Antoinette was  entertaining....all those cakes at her birthday party....hmmmm......When I told Chalks of my sighting, he didn't believe me, and went to see for himself.  She had disappeared up a flight of medieval stairs with her boyfriend, so we tried to stalk them.  I now understand why the paps don't go on the celebrity prowl with their three year olds.  The youth are hopeless under pressure.  All those stone stairs as well.....impossible to move quickly on.  We failed to get definite proof, and my google search turned up nought as well.  However, I did discover that she is shooting a movie in Greece.  It's only a hop skip and a jump from here......  Also her boyfriend in papparazi photos exactly resembled the one I saw in the streets of Taormina.  I would also like to point out that she could have attended to her roots.  They were untouched, her outfit drab and shapeless.  In all honesty, I was unmoved.  I thought she could have tried harder.  Liz Taylor would have never stepped out as such.  There would have been diamonds and rare furs covering every square inch of her body.

So it's pretty... you've made your point

That constant rolling through of tourists must really get to the Taormina shop keepers.  I have never experienced a bigger bunch of pricks in my life.  What a load of sullen meanies.  It was actually comical how rude they were.  When it goes that far, it's actually enjoyable.  You can ask them to fetch about 10 pairs of different shoes from the back storage, and then not buy a single one.  Also, if you can do this at 5.55pm, it's even more satisfying.  My shopping experience in Taormina, became my worst shopping experience since Prada in Shanghai about five years ago.  For  start, I would like to point out that I have never even purchased even a handkerchief in Prada, so there is no reason why I chose to go in there in the first place.  However, in Japan you are treated with such respect wherever you go, or whatever shop you choose to wander into (it may be false, I don't care it still feels good). Anyway, after being Japan for a certain period of time, you become wrapped in cotton wool.  So when you enter the real world again, the harshness of regular people really upsets you.  Those Shanghai shop assistants laughing at me behind my back and bitching about my ugg boots in Chinese ( know they were, I just know it) really struck a nerve.  I actually sobbed and ran out......Although, in fairness to them, I did wear ugg boots into Prada, so it's a miracle worse didn't happen.  They could have based an entire episode of "What Not To Wear" around my outfit that day if I really think about it.  However, when Chalky wore old adidas tracksuit pants with a hole in the penile area into the Tokyo Prada (just to piss me off), he couldn't have had more fans....I think Prada need to globalise their customer dress code.

But with regard to my harsh treatment by a multitude of tourist-weary, Taormina sales assistants.  They were at the end of the season of tourist scum.  Plus a lot of the tourists there, are dressed in their best.  I suspected it was our shabby  outfits.  But, on our second visit, we had all worn garments without holes,  and I had dressed the girls in their rich girl shoes - i.e. shiny black mary-janes (which  actually cost 20 euros from Bata).  No attitude change - actually perhaps we were more hated because we looked less poverty stricken, but still spent nothing.  The reason we tried to scrub up a bit though, was not for the sake of the shop arseholes, but for our planned visit to the Grande Hotel Timeo for terrace drinks.  Taormina has many hotels, but the oldest and grandest is the Hotel Timeo.  I could just feel that Marlene and Greta had slept within those walls.

Mount Etna view, gin and tonic, and far less tourist scum at the Grande Hotel Timeo (except us of course) 

The peasants live it up ...and eat all the bar snacks....

There are, of course, many exquisite hotels in the world.  The majority are, unfortunately, out of our (and I would imagine, many people's) budget.  However, if you want to soak up a bit of luxury (even when actually staying at a Hanoi hostel for 2 bucks a night, and sharing a bunk bed with a Swede who has a penchant for midnight wanking), then think about going for a mere drink at a luxury hotel.  It's like a time-out from regular life.  It's only about 2 or 3 euros extra for a coffee, or a gin and tonic, and it comes with so much more.  The peace, the quiet, the sucking up from staff, the leisurely stroll you can take around the hotel gardens, the view from the terrace.  You just have to remember this -  if you catch any snobby waiters looking at your dirty havaianas - you have a right to be there.  It doesn't matter if due to your gin and tonic lash, you end up begging outside restaurants for people's discarded pizza crusts later that evening.  It's worth it sometimes.

After soaking up some rich people's airborne juices, we took a stroll in the nearby communal gardens.  Look, I like a garden as much as the next person, I just don't want to feel like I have to admire it or be that interested in it's foliage content.  Who cares how many species of plants they have, it's all green, there's some colour - ok very nice.  One thing I could do without in these particular gardens, and this town in general, are the Cum Trees.  Does anybody reading this know what I'm talking about?  The trees that smell like cum????  Well, the Taormina communal gardens are full of them.  It's a little disturbing to see your three year old swinging and sliding and tumbling around, while all you can do is breathe in the thick aroma of a badly aimed spray job.

It's not the first time I've noticed this.  I used to walk by a strong smelling row of them during my teaching days in the soy sauce town of Noda, located on the outskirts of Tokyo.  I did that particular morning "route", with 5 of my male co-workers every morning.  It just wasn't right.  Nothing like strolling with a bunch of English teacher losers, while under the direct sensation that's there's a giant pile of semen in the near vicinity.  Hopefully not on your face either.  That shit's fine for bukake movies...but in real life, please.   Nerd jizm is the worst sort too....Oh god, I just remembered I used to eat a banana every morning on the way to work too - no wonder it was all too much for me.  One of my co-workers would hassle me about tossing the skin over fences into people immaculately manicured bonsai set ups.  Whatevs dude - it's for the birds, they love banana skin.......

While recovering from the equivalent of being wanked all over by a bush, I resumed strolling Taormina's winding streets.  Not long after the commencement of my wander, I was further disturbed to see some washing hanging on a clothes line - which was right on one of the main streets.  I realise that washing has to be done, but tell me this; for a start, would you only wash two items at one time?  Maybe only the daks were actually scrubbed out, and the towel was put there for decoy (like when you go to the supermarket for the sole purpose of buying tampons, but you try and cover this up by also buying a pack of chewing gum).  But secondly, wouldn't you just dry the scruds over the shower rail inside?  Is it really the kind of thing you want blowing in the breeze outside your place of residence?  They'd be no doubt they were yours - you couldn't palm them off on your neighbour.  Plus you'd have to be pretty confident that your twin tub got all the skids out.  I took two photos, one at a distance to get the perspective, and one close up so you can see the finer details.

It's just so public

I just wouldn't want the world to know I strap this particular cut of brief

But back to the trees - after again a little google research, I now discover that I don't have repressed sexual problems relating to issues with penis paint.  The cum tree is real!  Others too have smelt that familiar - not revolting, yet uncomforting musty aroma.  This smell is, in fact, .....the ornamental pear tree.  It doesn't sound so bad.  Could have been a lot worse. But, I can assure you, they'll be no pear eating for me this Sicilian trip.......Though it's not long until we leave Sicily - on Saturday we resume our Italian road trip, and travel north.  Thank goodness for that.  I keep drinking too much Mount Etna red wine at night, getting all happy in a blurry kind of fashion, and then passing out early.  At least I'm homebound, as they'd be nothing worse than waking up hungover under an ornamental pear tree.....I'm sure it's been done before.....

Cum Trees; Not all pretty things are nice