Messina. Another glorious day, another glorious port. After feeling that I missed out in Valetta yesterday, I am well equipped for today and have a trail planned out. This pivots around being in the city’s main square at midday to see the clock chime 12pm and the mechanical performance that enshews.
Sighted as one of Messina’s main attractions, the clock is certainly worth seeing but I feel that it may have been labelled incorrectly as a ‘main’ attraction because of its rather conspicuous setting in the central piazza, when there is so much more to this city. Certainly many more attractions worthy of as much attention as the clock tower.
The first is the Duomo di Messina, the church that the clock tower is attached to. While not as grand or perhaps imposing as some, the Duomo commands the aptly name Piazza del Duomo. Inside it is cool and dark. Although it’s still early there are little pockets of tourists gathered admiring sculptures in alcoves and the ceiling far about us. Like many churches, the space inside feels much more vast than it looks from the outside. And it looks pretty vast from the outside too.
There is a small museum here, the Cathedral Treasury (Museo Tesoro del Duomo) off to the side that I want to explore but it’s not open yet. I will have to come back as it’s the home of Manta D’oro, the Golden Mask. With this in mind we head back out to the Piazza to inspect the lovely fountain.
The fountain, named the Fountain of Oreon, dates to the 1500’s and was built as a celebration of the town’s first aqueduct, depicting four personifications of the rivers Nile, Tiber, Ebro and Camaro (aqueduct). We briefly consider the hop on hop off bus but I would rather walk. All the better to get a feel for the city.
We head back towards the water, looking for the Municipal Antiquarium, an archaeological excavation site. The site is supposed to be an introduction to the history of Messina from the Greek and Roman foundations through to the various earthquakes of the middle ages and Renaissance periods through to the modern history of the city. Unfortunately it is a poor display and entirely in Italian which doesn’t help the matter for us. The ruins, which we stumble across, are, quite literally in ruins. They are completely abandoned, with long grass growing, rubbish everywhere and relatively new yet still decaying and broken pipes weaving in and out. I am utterly disappointed but it is to do with the fact that something with such an interesting history is presented as such, rather than with the experience itself. I guess in a country full of ruins, you can be a bit choosy.
We continue on our historic path, coming across the Teatro Vittorio Emanuelle and being invited into the quiet and not entirely open building. The foyer is open but there is a security guard and I fear that he will stop us. However he seems well versed in curious tourists and asks us if we’re looking for the painting. Indeed we are and we are invited into the empty theatre and left to our own devises to admire (or otherwise) this magnificent ceiling. Such a magnificent ceiling has an equally magnificent story that goes with it. It depicts the legend of Colapesce, painted here by Renato Guttuso. Cola, the story goes, nicknamed Cola-pesce (fish) for his love of the sea, was a boy growing up in Messina. One day, the King of Sicily heard of this boy who would dive deep down into the sea and come up with incredible tales of the deep. The King decided to test the boy, throwing first his cup and then his crown into the sea, both of which Colapesce retreived without incident. When the King threw his ring into the sea, Colapesce did not resurface. On his dive to retrieve the ring, Colapesce found one of the three columns holding the island of Sicily up broken and remainder underwater, forever holding up Sicily to prevent it from sinking. I don’t gather all this from the painting itself, although it is rather marvelous and quite luminescent in the space.
Next we stop for “due espresso, per favore” and perch at the bar for a E1 energy boost. Then we are seeking yet another church. Along the way we come across the Fountain of Neptune where Neptune himself extends his triton in protection of the city. The next church, Chiesa San Giovanni di Malta (Church of St. John of Malta) is considerably smaller than many we have seen on this trip and isn’t known for the structure itself but for the relics of St. Placido and his martyr companions. There is also a rich history of this site, being one of the first Grand Priories of the Knights of St. John. But we can’t find it. We must be looking lost because a car slows and a lady asks us if the church is what we’re looking for. “Si, si” I reply, hoping that I have understood correctly. She gestures back half a block towards a gate and takes off trailing an “uno momento” behind her. We seem to have gotten lucky as we had just written this building off as another closed minor attraction.
In fact a few minutes later and with great enthusiasm, the lady appears on the other side of the gate and ushers us through to a tiny room with a small nave and an altar on the side of what I had assumed to be the church. She tries her best to explain things and then resorts to playing an English version of an explanation through her phone and into a microphone. Even the English version is heavily accented and hard to hear through the speakers but I am grateful nevertheless and we sit and listen, picking up what we can and smiling and nodding our appreciation for our dismal knowledge of Italian is evident here.
After this she continues the Italian commentary, unlocking and taking us into quiet rooms. We seem to have stumbled on a private tour of the Museo del Tesoro di Placido (Museum of the Treasury of San Placido). It’s fascinating and many of the items are labelled. I long to linger but our guide awaits us in the monumental stairwell and it seems rude to linger too long. Jason hurries me along. At the top of the stairs we come to a crypt. In fact this is the Martyr’s Shrine Relics. Not just one lot of relics but several rest here all stacked up on top of each other. There is an offer to take photos of us in here. I gladly accept, figuring this must not be taboo, even in such a sacred, and frankly, eerie place.
Grateful for the tour and the enthusiasm we repeat our “grazie, grazie” on the way out and wave our goodbyes.
We head on up the street to another enthusiastic host at the Palazzo del Monte di Pieta. Here our hosts English is very good. He has a cousin in Australia (Melbourne) and would love to visit. We hear this a lot but when questioned as to why this visit has never taken place if it is so desirable, the answer is inevitably “too far!”. This site, while interesting, is not as inspiring visually. Like much of Messina, it has fallen to numerous earthquakes and where other monuments have been restored, the Palazzo has not fared quite so well. A building at the entrance and a rather nice courtyard with a backdrop to the impressive steps remains. Here they are setting up for a concert tonight. We are invited to return for the music but regrettably, we won’t be here. Our guide makes it interesting anyway and appears happy to practice his English on us, engaging us with facts and insisting that we have photos taken in the best spots.
After gratefully and politely extracting ourselves from our guide’s enthusiasm we are given parting directions to visit Santario della Madonna di Monalto. The great attraction of this church is its location perched atop a hill which affords spectacular views across Messina and the Strait to the Italian mainland.
At the top of the climb, which leaves me slightly puffed, we pause to (catch my breath) and take in the views. We debate for a while over the distance of the mainland and whether we should visit the other high point of Messina, Sacrario de Christo Re (Shrine of Christ the King). Whilst contemplating this, I pop into the church for good measure whilst Jason waits outside. I am rewarded with the coolness of the interior and the discovery of something that looks remarkably like the mantle that the Mantle of Gold (that I will see later at the Treasury) is derived from.
After this little interlude, we make our way back towards Piazza del Duomo and find ourselves a table at a pizzaria with a view of the clock tower. We order a pizza and drinks and sit to await the midday show. As the clock strikes 12pm, the collective eyes of the crowd that has been building, turn upwards as the roar of a lion is projected through the square. It is loud, perhaps overly so, and a few people, including me, startle a little. The show is quite amazing, given that it is completely mechanical and was built in the 1930’s in Strasbourg.
The show goes on. The mechanics are deliberate and appear to unfold. It takes some concentration, squinting up into the midday sun, at the spectacle above and it’s unsurprising that some of the children quickly lose interest. A book I read, The Night Circus, flashes through my mind and this, like in the book, is truly something magical from another time.
After the 12 minute show, the crowd disperses and I return to our table having stood on the other side of the fountain for a better view of the show. Jason has devoured the pizza while I was gone – while it was hot, I’m told. I order another. While waiting for the second pizza, I have just enough time for a whirlwind look around the Museo Tesoro del Duomo. I missed it this morning as it wasn’t open yet and it will close again in 20 minutes so my window of opportunity, like the museum, is small.
It might be small but the exhibits are exquisite. There are silver chalices, treasured garments, crucifixes inlaid with precious stones and gold encrusted everything. No wonder it’s the treasury museum. of course the piece de resistance is the Manta D’oro, the Golden Mantle (no photos are allowed). It’s effectively life size and looks like it could be softly draped over me, despite its solid gold structure over a layer of supportive copper. The chiseling of the gold into what looks like fine gold brocade, damask and embroidery is exquisite. Standing here in awe of the craftsmanship I find myself humbled in the presence of such an incredible work of art. It strikes me as a shame that it is not sitting in perhaps a more fitting setting.
Slightly dazed by the treasury, I head back the the piazza. My pizza is nearly cold again but at least most of it still remains this time. After lunch, Jason declares he is done with churches and I relent, agreeing to go for a ride out of town on the red tourist hop-on-hop-off bus. Jason has been for a couple of swims on our travels so far and whilst I have most certainly been tempted, I have elected to spend my time immersed in history. Swimming I can do any time. Today, however, it will be nice to take a dip in the Mediterranean (I’m not sure if technically, we have crossed into the Tyrrhenian Sea here). The tourist bus is supposedly leaving in 5 minutes. We hop on and wait, realise the 5 minutes is more likely to be 20 and hop off again. Jason takes a wander and comes back after a coffee and cannoli grinning from ear to ear. It’s not often he finds something that he thinks is worth going back for but he promises me one later, having not spared a taste for me.
We take the bus north and hop off at a suitable looking beach. Of course all the beaches are rocky and I decide that this is perhaps a little too much so for my liking, especially if I’m expected to spread a towel out. We walk on a little further and decide to pay E10 each for a sunbed and umbrella, something that I would never do on a sandy beach in Australia (even if the were available!) but it seems like a reasonable investment from where I stand right now.
We get changed into our swimsuits and lay out our towels. I pick my way, bare footed across the rocks to the water and tentatively wade my way in until I can float off over the top of the rocks. The water is cool and refreshing and after the heat of the past week, not to mention today, I enjoy a little frolic in this waveless sea.
I can’t stand up though, it’s too rocky, so after 20 mins or so of swimming, floating and treading water, the novelty wears off. I pick my way carefully back to the sun lounge and lay myself out. Jason is having a bit of a snooze and I lay back to close my eyes and relax for a bit. Not much of a snoozer, I wish for a magazine or a book, and even contemplate another swim but I can’t bear the thought of the rocky walk again and we actually need to get going. The last bus comes north in about 20 minutes and we want to catch the loop up and then back into Messina.
After getting changed and making the bus, the northern loop takes around an hour or so before we’re back in Messina. Before heading back to the ship, we manage to find the cannoli shop where Jason makes good on his promise. It is, I admit, rather glorious. And so has the day been, another glorious day, another glorious port.
Would I return?
Yes. Absolutely.
