Across the Strait of Messina from Sicily lies the region of Calabria on the Italian mainland. Some kilometres to the north of the regional capital Reggio di Calabria and just past the ferry town of Villa San Giovanni, there is a small seaside community called Scilla. One can see the top of Mount Etna from there. The ancient Greek god Poseidon is said to have resided in Scilla. It has a charming beach and an old castle that was disguised as a hostel in the olden days.
Amongst a group of young people around a table in the castle courtyard, a Danish guy sat across from me and lifted his glass in my direction saying “skål” in Danish. He had a car and had driven down all the way from Copenhagen and was happy for the opportunity to speak some words of Danish (Danish and my native Norwegian being quite similar). He had heard that there was some interesting mountain terrain inland from the east coast and would I care to join him for a drive the next day. He was not keen on going there on his own. My Italian seemed more fluent than his, he said. I was happy to oblige.
The road up the mountainside was steep and winding and at the crest flattened out into a sort of main street of a village. At the other end of the street there was a large burnt-out house behind what had been a white cement-and-brick wall, which had been partly demolished to allow passersby to look inside. The house seemed to have been a rather large villa in its time, but the garden was neglected and overgrown. We got out of the car to have a better look, but were practically chased away by what to us appeared to be a very hostile villager.
We drove on through a varied and beautiful, almost Alpine landscape, stopped for a meal of goat’s cheese and tomato salad with white beans and black olives, then drove slowly on.
By evening we came to a place between some hilltops that was not on the map. The place had an inn, though a rustic, very simple restaurant on the ground floor and I think six rooms to rent on the upper floor. Those were narrow, single-bed rooms with a washstand and a mirror on the wall. My Danish “compadre” picked one that faced east. Mine, across the landing, faced west towards where we came from. The innkeeper was not easy to understand, but we agreed on the price after some incomprehensible words and got a meal in the restaurant. Some elderly card-playing guests in the dining room stared at us throughout the meal, not saying a word.
In the morning my friend told me he had heard the howling of wolves outside during the night. Although there had been a full moon he had seen nothing out of the window except the dark forest.
I’ll tell you more about it in an upcoming post.
A la prossima volta
Karl (Carlo in Italian)
The Hofsö Method 