Agrigento Redux and La Scala dei Turchi

When I was in Sicily last year, I took a weekend and went back in time. I visited Agrigento, a city most famous for being home to La Valle dei Templi, home to wide plain of beautiful Greek temples. I recently had the chance to return to Agrigento, and this trip was a whole other kind of wonderful.

The Tempio dei Dioscuri

I’ve already written about visiting the temples, which you can find here. I went back on this trip, and enjoyed seeing them again. Revisiting the temples allowed me to explore deeper and use my imagination more, to think of how they may have been back then. I was especially happy to admire the Tempio dei Dioscuri, my favorite.

In addition, my friend and I did some more wandering around the modern city. We stopped into the church of Santa Maria dei Greci. It was free to enter, and there was even a guide inside who walked us through the site’s history. The story of this one building tells the story of Sicily, an island that has historically been in the hands of others: Greek, Byzantine, Arab, Norman. You can still see their influence, and that of the many others who at one time ruled the island: in architecture, art, food, language, music, and culture.

Near La Valle dei Tempi

My main motivation for returning to Agrigento was to fulfill a dream from my previous trip: to see La Scala dei Turchi. In English, the name translates to the Staircase of the Turks: a natural wonder, a whitewashed sea wall. It’s not impossible to reach without a car, but it would be rather difficult. Fortunately, the host of our B&B, beyond providing an excellent accommodation, helped us arrange transportation.

Scaling La Scala dei Turchi; photo by Mira

The sunset at La Scala dei Turchi was beautiful. One of the most spectacular I’ve seen. On such a grand scale, the shear enormity of the Mediterranean stretched out before me. Around the same time, one year before, I was leaving Sicily. I didn’t know that I would return. I didn’t know where I would go instead. I had no idea what this year that has passed since would bring me. I did not know I would visit Jerusalem, live in Amsterdam, or return to Sicily. I could not have imagined how many wonderful people would come into my life in this past year. Last year, at that time, I felt maybe more lost than ever. And this year, with the sea endless before me, I was simply amazed. Grateful. At peace. I knew that I had found my way home, and despite not knowing how much else would play out, I was certain of that.

Watching the sunset over the Mediterranean Sea from La Scala dei Turchi

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This whole trip to Agrigento was fabulous. My friend and I stayed at Le Terrazze di Pirandello, a fabulous B&B located at the beginning of Via Atenea, the main walking, shopping, and dining street of the city. Our room was spacious and light. The breakfast was great, too - espresso, fresh fruits, bread, tomatoes, cheese, pastries, I could go on. The hospitality of our host was genuine and welcoming. And I haven’t even mentioned the most fabulous part: the terrace for which the place is named. The rooftop terrace looks down on the Mediterranean coast beyond, and in the other direction the old city rises above you. It was beautiful, in the morning, the afternoon, the evening, just to sit. To feel at peace. To sip tea, or bite into a fresh plum. To enjoy the simplicity of just living. This is Sicily at her best.

Fresh everything for breakfast on the terrace at B&B Le Terrazze di Pirandello

We ate well this trip, too. The aperitivo at Terracotta was generous to say the least; we had several little snacks along with our Aperol spritzes. We then had a delicious dinner at Ristorante Krokos. I had casarecce con pesce spada, melanzane, e mentuccia, a pasta dish with swordfish, eggplant, and mint, accompanied by my favorite Sicilian vino, Nero d’Avola.

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There is more reason why this trip will forever hold a place in my heart. While strolling Via Atenea, my friend and I picked up some cookies at Pasticceria Infurna. Sitting on the terrace of the B&B, she offered me a bite of the cookie she chose. The cookie didn’t initially strike me as familiar, but in that one bite a wave of memories came over me. I was eating my grandmother’s cookies. The cookies that every member of my family makes at Christmastime. The taste was the same. The soft dough, the powdered sugar frosting that melts in your mouth, a hint of lemon. They were the same cookies.

Tarallucci and tetu’ - what I would call “grandma’s cookies” and “tutus”

We returned to the bakery and I bought many more of these tarallucci. I also noticed another cookie, what I would call a tutu, with a sign saying: tetù. I knew they must be the same. And they were. The spicy cocoa taste was the unmistakable. To me, finding something that I only have found in the kitchens of my mom and my aunts, in a small bakery in a town in Sicily was the sign. The sign that this is where I come from. The sign that this is where I belong.

The sign that I am home.

Note: The header image is of La Scala dei Turchi at sunset.