The Valley of the Temples near Agrigento

When we wake up on Friday the 18th it's blustery outside and a little colder. We breakfast inside at the long table and find ourselves in a lively talk with Justin, the sommelier from Munich (who looks like he tasted a lot of wine yesterday), and a new Japanese kid, traveling with his mother from Hong Kong, and who studies for his MBA in Barcelona. The Brazilian couple also shows up, and in Portuguese we exchange confidences about the food. Apparently we did well to find the mom 'n pop restaurant in Menfi yesterday; the tasting menu had been so-so. I also mention the fact that I've located an outlet near Catania. "I need something more for the wedding (that they will be attending)," she says full of cute Brazilian zeal, and asks for directions.  Then we're all packed and off in our spiffy little Audi, hurtling past the fields full of wild flowers. Especially remarkable are the dard red clovers.

Stopping for self-service gas is a European style adventure, which I leave for the men to handle. There are two drivers for this car, and I - with the one valid European driving license between us - am not one of them. Oswaldo and Victor both went to the trouble to get International Driving Licences in Rio... On the other hand I am best with the map - and also for catching the GPS when it falls off the window, as it does frequently.

We're driving with wineyards and hills on our left and the sea off in the distance on our right and it is not long before we turn inland towards the hill upon which are the temples. 

The closest is the 5th century BC Temple of Juno, or Hera, on a ridge overlooking the entire valley. Further along the path, past an 800 year old olive tree

is the amazingly preserved Temple of Concord, the model for Unesco's logo, in front of which lies a modern bronze statue of Icarus

Last of the temples is the Temple of Hercules, the older of the three by a century, more or less. Only 8 of the original 38 columns have been raised and the rest lay strewn in gigantic tumbled heaps.

We wander back to the car through fields with scattered burial sites and digs in progress; then set our GPS for Catalnisetta and Enna, which will take us to the main Catania freeway - and also past the new Sicilian Village outlet. The landscape outside is now quite wild, with towering cliffs and untilled earth, and we get our first view of the towering snow-capped Etna, with smoke billowing from the top.

On the backseat Victor has fallen into a deep sleep - all templed out.

When we reach the mall it feels there could be no greater contrast to what we just came from. As we negotiate the drive in to the huge parking lot and consider the low windowless curves of the mall, we could be in Florida, or anywhere else in the US. Victor wakes up and we go in search of coffee. The canned music drives Oswaldo back to the car, where he waits while Victor and I prowl Armani, Gucci, Zegna, and so on. Alas, all to no avail. Only Americans know how do do malls. Here discounts offered are perhaps 40% off an original 1,500 euro price tag. Victor buys a pair of Armani underpants - duly Instagramed or Snapchatted ;) - and we return to the car and head south for Syracuse on the eastern coast, where we will stay in a converted 19th century palace, Hotel Algilá, on the historical island of Ortigia. It turns out to be challenging to access the hotel in the warren of narrow one-way streets, but suddenly we're there, the bay on one side and the welcoming hotel on the other. Turns out it has a charming restaurant, where we dine very well. Oswaldo and I share a Spaghetti alle Vongole and a perfectly baked little fish, and Victor embarks on one more Salada Caprese and yet another Braciole. Then we repair to our quite small charming rooms, ours overlooking a little square and the sea beyond and Victor's a cozy garret with the sound of splashing water from a nearby fountain.