Stone upon stone: an Italian sojourn: Not all architectural gems

Returning the car was not without excitement. Pete was not able to find his keys on our last morning as we went to pack the car one last time to drop it off in Syracuse. After pulling everything apart he finally found them tucked into one of the side pockets of his briefcase. So, off and away we went for a final hour's drive in our reliable little hybrid, that turned out to be very comfortable for tripping around Sicily.

We drove through the rather ugly outskirts of Syracuse, then over a bridge to the little island of Ortigia, filled with lanes and alleys many only large enough for Vespas, but our trusty little vehicle made its safe way to a wee piazza near the tip of the island, where we offloaded our luggage in an illegal 24hour-tow-away zone, with the road cleaner looking after it with a raised broom fending off any vagabonds as we unloaded it all into our apartment down a lane or three, then we took a wider route around the edge of the island back to the Avis drop-off point near the island's bridges. All done and dusted, now. We are back to public transport while we explore the remaining cities along the east coast. A relief, always, to return a hire car without any collision or theft damage to account for.

There is, on and off, rain in Syracuse, but we still have not bought an umbrella in Sicily. The young African entrepreneurs are always out touting at the first sprinkle. I really admire their functional grasp of so many languages. They put us to shame. So far, we have not needed them, but it has been close at times, but the big rainfalls do seem to happen when we are safely roofed somewhere. At least, to date.

We found brief respite in some stores on occasions, which is something we never do when we travel, but it amused us here. One store had a display a bit like a lady's wardrobe: with fashions jumbled with shoes, dresses mixed with coats and tops. Unusual, we thought. Another window display had a collection of the ugliest clothes I have ever seen. Someone must think these stylish. I never would.

And sneakers that are stylish are in windows everywhere: with multi-coloured soles and laces that really appealed to Miss Bec. She would have bought them had they not been wood hard, with no flex in the sole at all. These were not the only ones like that. All the stores have fashion sneakers on display that would break ankles they are so brutally wooden and rigid in their design. But the multicoloured laces won our approval. Sadly, they don't sell them separately so they miss out on a sale, today.

Syracuse has a long history of famous myths and personalities: the tale of the nymph, Arethusa, and her lover, Alpheas, is one of them. Fleeing from him, Arethusa jumped into the sea only to safely reach Ortigia island where, for her efforts and tears, she was turned into a freshwater stream. Alpheas, now a river, burst across the sea to join Arethusa in this ancient waterhole: today filled with geese, ducks, fish and, amazingly, papyrus plants. This is one of only two places in Italy where this ancient plant grows. Fonte Arethusa: such a pretty place. I wonder if Arethusa is finally happy here.

The harbour through which Alpheas flowed, makes an expansive stretch of tumbling water: decorated in frothy white waves slapping the shore, today. Out on these very waters, in 413BC, Athenian ships were doomed in a massive battle against the Syracuse city state, which was heavily armed and reinforced by their ally, Sparta. Two hundred ships and thousands of Athenian fighters died in a tragic battle in these very waters.

Today, men were out in their oilskins catching fish in the roiling waters: none too successfully, they moaned.

Later than the Athenian rout, in 1608, barely two years before he died, Caravaggio landed on this island, fleeing the law on the mainland where his violent tempestuous nature had him appealing a murder charge. One of the little lanes leading to our apartment is called Via Mario Minniti. Mario was a Roman colleague of Caravaggio's who was able to pull a few strings and gain him a commission while he was in Sicily to help keep the wolf from his door. It resulted in the amazing Burial of St Lucy, one of Caravaggio's masterpieces, which we visited in Santa Lucia alla Badia, where it takes pride of place over the altar. It does not rest easy here, though, as another church in Syracuse, where it was actually painted is contesting its right to display the work. That battle has yet to be resolved.

Santa Lucia alla Badia is in the glorious Piazza Duomo, one of the most beautiful squares we have seen in all of Sicily; perhaps anywhere. The buildings here are supremely elegant but with soft rain wetting the stone of the square it all appeared luminous, shining, other-worldly: quite breathtaking.

Tucked behind, in the Piazza Minerva, is a stunning modern pavilion built over ruins of an ancient Temple of Athena. It has won architectural awards for its sympathetic treatment of its gentle footings and elastic bearings in relation to the ruins lying beneath it. It is gorgeous and stark with its sharp ascetic exterior, and simple vertical accent cut, pointing downward to the ancient ruins. This is one of my favourite buildings we have seen to date: I just love it! And I love its sharp contrast with all the buildings surrounding.

We returned home via medieval lanes and porticoes to our casa in an ancient building: hardly an architectural gem outside: its walls and stairs terrifyingly laden with electrical cables and metres and a minefield of fire hazards.

But inside, in our vaulted rock cave we have a lovely studio casa, beautifully decorated, spacious, and delightful space for all. We are enjoying our time here. And cross fingers that all the exposed cables and connections outside in the communal area are sound.