How I Cracked the Code on the "Isola" of Sicily

An excerpt from my upcoming memoir

Taormina, Sicily

Isola means island, a cognate of isolare, to isolate, to seclude, to shut off. Even though I now live on an island, I'd never made that connection, so obvious in Italian. Perhaps that is why I feel such a deep sense of isolation on the island of Sicily, where I feel so uncharacteristically like a foreigner. Unlike in the rest of Italy, where my much improved language skills, designer duds and attitude have most Italians fooled and greeting me as a local, Sicily is proving to be a surprising challenge.

Despite its superficial welcoming of tourists, Sicily remains a closed community, with its Greek influences and places that still remain war torn. It is an island with its own personality, uniqueness, eccentricities and limitations, things I am becoming familiar with on my own rock in the middle of the Pacific. Native Sicilians make sure that tourists understand who is in charge. Though every meal ends with an abundance of sweets, the irony is that that Sicilians are anything but dolce! Forte, tenacious and unwavering, traditional, self-protective and stoic, they must be explored with respect. It requires care to gingerly peel back each layer and expose the vulnerable and tender core—the essence of a Sicilian.


Sicily  is definitely not for the thin-skinned, for novice travelers or for anyone looking for an easy vacation. It is an acquired taste; recognizing and appreciating its virtues can be a slow process. It's a difficult place to navigate, with its own private code that I am determined to crack. Yet, it is one of the most special places I’ve had the privilege to visit.

Taormina is a bewitching Sicilian town set high above the Ionian sea. Photographs don’t do it justice or capture its inherent beauty. Like a fairy-tale town stuck in the 1940s, it does not have a single mobile phone shop, chain store or any of the modern services you’d expect in place of its size. This is the gift of Taormina—a place that forces you to stretch and grow, to learn and understand.

The resort's beach, Taormina, Sicily

Taormina's southern location has temperatures climbing to 39 degrees Celsius (102 Fahrenheit) during the day. My beach house sits at the edge of the sea, forcing me to negotiate a stony beach to reach the water, so unlike the soft sandy beaches of Maui. There is no evidence of other English-speaking North Americans. I am an anomaly at this luxury resort, its management not quite sure what to make of me. Sicilians tend to be rooted in older, traditional values, so a confident, independent, happy woman in her 40s travelling alone is not easy for them to comprehend. No matter. I embrace the challenge. It reinforces my resolve to learn how Sicilians tick.

View of Taormina, Sicily

On my third day in Sicily, I pass a poster advertising a James Blunt pop concert at the Teatro Greco, located at the top of Taormina. The amphitheater—built by the Greeks in the 3rd century BC, renovated by the Romans, and now used for summer concerts—is nestled into the hillside, with remarkable acoustics and spectacular, jaw-dropping views of the sea and Mount Etna.

When I ask the resort manager to secure me a ticket for the concert, I am stunned by her response. She tells me that the concert is sold out to Sicilians and that there are no tickets available. I regroup and assure her that I am prepared to pay a premium to see this show. She is emphatic, telling me curtly not to ask about a ticket again. I leave the lobby and head to my beach house, more determined than ever to attend the concert and overcome her deliberate attempt to remind me that I am an outsider.

I ponder the situation all evening, resolved that I will find a way. Next morning, after a restless night, I take the funicular to the teatro at the top of Taormina to give it another try. As if to reinforce the resort manager's disdain, the ticket agent laughs mockingly when I ask to purchase a ticket, reiterating that tickets go only to residents. I leave discouraged but undaunted.

I decide to stop for coffee at the world famous Belmond Grand Timeo Hotel, which faces the "Greek Theatre" and overlooks the incomparable panorama of the Bay of Naxos and Mount Etna. I walk into the hotel after a tour of its incredible gardens and am escorted to a small table on the terrace. A very attentive waiter takes my simple order of a cappuccino and a dolce. By the time he returns, I have a plan.

After I settle my bill, I make an 8 p.m. dinner reservation for one for the next evening on the hotel terrace. I ask the maitre d' for a special favour—and to have a white peach Bellini waiting for me upon my arrival.

The next day, I ask the resort manager to arrange for a taxi that evening to take me to dinner at the Grand Timeo Hotel. The manager goes dead silent. Who is speechless now? I laugh to myself. She simply nods, and at 8:00 p.m. I walk into the lobby wearing a white-and-black strappy silk European-designed gown and Ferragamo high-heeled sandals, carrying a chartreuse evening bag. After a quick grazie mille and buona notte, I climb into the taxi.

That night, I have one of the best meals I've eaten in Italy. I am served personally by the tuxedoed maitre d', who dances with me between each course as James Blunt plays his greatest hits just a few feet away in the open amphitheatre.

The morning after the concert, the resort manager rings my beach house and asks me to drop by the lobby at my convenience. After breakfast, I oblige. As I approach, she leaves her position behind the desk, greets me with a hug, kisses on both cheeks, and says, “You, madam have a big head.” I must have looked confused, and then it starts to make sense as she continues. “You, madame, must be Sicilian! When you did not get a 'yes,' you found another way, a better way, which means you have a big Sicilian head. Bravissima!”

Back on my isola of Maui many months later, I head for the gym as I do most days. As I begin my work out, James Blunt's "You're Beautiful" comes over the sound system, instantly transporting me back to the terrace of the Grand Timeo Hotel in Taormina. I can almost feel the caress of the evening air on my bare shoulders as I danced in the arms of the handsome maitre d'. Once again, I am infused with the sense empowerment I felt that night, and reminded that I can handle whatever obstacles, big or small, life puts in my way. That is the true gift of Taormina for me.