Stone upon stone: an Italian sojourn: Ceramics, stairs and medieval lanes

Caltagirone, when we arrived was such a lovely surprise. The central island location we are now exploring was a zone badly damaged by a massive earthquake in 1693 that completely levelled all the villages around its epicentre. Most completely crumbled in one terrifying event. Many were rebuilt with facades in the ornate Baroque style favoured at the time, and today eight of these towns have been awarded UNESCO status for their historical context: Caltagirone amongst them.

Caltagirone is another winding town on a hill: picturesque from afar, tattered and ugly around the edges, more interesting closer to the historic centre which is usually the high point on the hill. Luckily, there is often a one way up route in each of these towns, wide enough to drive by cars parked legally, and others who nose in, so typical in Sicily, thereby occupying so much more of the road space with their exposed bumpers. After a time here, that anarchic rule-breaking of the Sicilians rubs off on you, like a disease, and you think 'Ah, what the heck! they do it, we should, too!' So far we have resisted. We stick to the rules: like stopping at every stop sign for instance, slowing down to 50 when the road signs request it: while locals impatiently toot and whip straight past us, cutting in fearfully quickly and sharply, as they ubiquitously do: ignoring any rules.

Anarchy thrives in Sicily, particularly when it comes to road rules. Clearly they are never enforced. No one is at all intimidated by them.

We parked in the Piazza San Francesco d'Assisi with its blocky yet Baroque church as a centrepiece, occupying even the sky space, and walked across a ceramic decorated bridge looking down on tumbled winding lanes heavy with clay-fired roof tiles that are centuries old, but barely look as if they are ordered enough to keep a shower out.

This led us to another piazza lined with a duomo, beautiful buildings and stylish shops, many of which were ceramiche galleries, or were decorated with ceramics, and to one side of the square we found the Scala Santa Maria del Monte: the most amazing staircase connecting the old town with the new. The lava stone of the treads contrasting with 142 stair rises brightly decorated in colourful ceramic tiles. It is quite a spectacle.

We had the most delicious coffee and cassatella, served in one of those humble cafes operating on a shoestring throughout Sicily. Cassatella are shaped like virgin's breasts, topped with a cherry and traditionally made on St Agatha's feast day, in memory of Agatha who was tortured and martyred by having her breasts removed with pincers. Quite ghoulish. In Sicily we seem to find a new and interesting treat each day: today's was made with lard, wine and sugar, products every home owner seems to have a'plenty. After that we wandered around the town, chatting to locals, enjoying it all.

We had read about Caltagirone pottery, so were on the look out for it and when we easily found one of the most lauded local potters, we called in and chatted with him. Ignazio Scarlatella proudly showed us his work. Much of it is highly detailed, highly glazed and incredibly ornate. He is working on a Nativity scene, at the moment. He has done a full height tableau of The Last Supper, he told us: showing us the photo of it on the wall, beside an image of himself with the Pope. He is so proud of his work and so he should be.

Even before the earthquake, Caltagirone was a noted ceramic town. Its name, from the Arabic, means Castle of Vases: the locals learned how to use the pottery wheel from the Greeks, and how to glaze from the Arab invaders. Over time they developed their own unique style and are famous for the giant Caltagirone Heads, representing various invasions: the Byzantine, the Arabs, the Normans. These we found everywhere, and variations on them, even on window ledges.

Like many hill towns there are churches in every tiny square, this church square with mandarin trees, heavy with ripe fruit, decorating it on two sides. We couldn't easily find a place open for lunch, so instead, as we were passing, picked up some fresh bread rolls at a Panificio and headed off looking for a picnic spot. This, too, was not easy. The road to Ragusa that we were taking was another of those costly roads built on viaducts with pull outs. There were few exits to find a more remote rural spot which we would have preferred so we tried to find a suitable pull out but would not stop at any of them. The rubbish left in them was too appalling. There is no excuse for this. It is simply filth. And unhealthy. Some had video cameras there as a warning to litterers: to no avail.

Ragusa, like Caltagirone, has even tighter streets, but luckily, has, too, that surrounding circuit road that gets you most places without going through lanes too tight to manoeuvre. Even so, while we were later walking the Ragusa Ibla, here, we saw some bricklayers who had parked their car legally as they worked, be side-swiped by a local lady, who actually stopped until we completely moved out of her driving view down a set stairs, then took off, hit their vehicle laden with supplies with her side view mirror, and did not even stop to apologise. They shrugged, when we sympathised. What can you do, was the implication.

Ragusa, too, is tattered, elegant and beautiful. Our accommodation enhances it: it is gorgeous. As we had the night before, we have a three bedroomed apartment, with more space than we have at home, and facilities that are simply fabulous. Here, we have a bath built rather like a Roman spa it is so smart. Last night in Piazza Armerina we had a formal dining room that we could have held a ball in: we didn't even need to use it, sadly, there was enough space in the kitchen. Here, our upstairs kitchen and living room have picture windows that look down over Ragusa Ibla, the old town. The view of night lights is spectacular.

Ragusa Ibla used to be the only site for town, but after the earthquake hit, it was decided by the town elders that a new town should be built on the top of the adjoining hill, leaving the old in rubble. That was not a decision popular with the wealthy folk who happened to live there: anarchic even then. So, while a new Baroque town was built on our hill, they rebuilt theirs on their old hill. We decided to spend the afternoon exploring both places.

We descended every staircase we could find: and they were all severely vertical. Miss Bec did so well on them. We then had to climb the next hill up to the level of the Duomo and the heart of town. Which took us well over our 10,000 steps for the day, so that was a bonus, and allowed us to get a good feel for the place. Ragusa still has crumbling buildings and there are as many churches and palazzos as there are spaces to cram them in. Sicilians are enduringly religious, and Christianity has a stronghold in this country. One wonders if they break those rules, too, given that rule-keeping is not big on their life-style agenda in many other arena.

Outside the public gardens at the bottom of Ragusa Ibla we bought a bus ticket in a Tabac for a bumpy bus that took us back up the vertical hill around the winding narrow outside street overlooking the most amazing valley views.

We had no idea where we were, but the elevation seemed fine, so we hopped off when we felt high enough, tried to find a place to eat in the centre of town as we were hungry, but apart from cafes and wine bars with cold pizza snacks and arancini there is never much on offer for dinner in Sicily until 7.30 or later.

We were hungry. We could not wait. So, luckily on the way home we found a grocery store and picked up the fixings for a risotto with chicken, bacon and mushroom, which I made at home. We found our fumbling way home in a darkness that descended rapidly on our mountain top. This was atmospherically lit by the candlelight from a group of church choristers singing beautifully as they walked the little lanes around their church while church bells were ringing. Ave Maria. Ave Ave Ave Mar-i-i-a. So very lovely.

Another busy day done, followed by a brilliant sleep on the most comfortable bed on our trip. Ragusa is a delight.