A lunar landscape to a Caribbean beach

On our way down Etna this morning, Beatrix was passed by three cyclists. They were breaking the speed limit, but this was a bit galling for Kevin, who likes to overtake, not be overtaken. We were on our way south, via a motorhome services place we'd found nearby, in the hope of finally buying an electric hook up cable (we've been borrowing up to now).

We found ourselves on a residential street - there was a small sign on some closed gates. Without much optimism, I got out and rang on the bell. But a little old lady came down and led me to her husband, who knew exactly what we wanted, and shortly roared off on his moped to procure it. Meanwhile, I had a fairly one-sided chat with the lady who responded to my Italian stutterings with high-speed full sentences; but she was charmed by Jemima, and gave her a large yellow lemon-like fruit from the tree on her drive. Her husband duly roared back, over-charged us horribly, but handed over a functioning hook up cable. At last! All three technical problems solved.

And then we were off, leaving the coast for the first time, through the surprisingly green countryside, with tiny red poppies bobbing along the edge of the carriageway. It was overcast and windy, nothing like the wonderful weather of the previous few days, but Sicily was still beautiful. And then we arrived at our campsite, one of the most attractively laid out we've ever stayed at (trimmed green hedges, neat white gravel, blue painted buildings) with a view of the beach, and our own private loo per pitch! A nice touch. And the beach, completely different to our previous beaches: golden rather than black sand, green-blue sea, a gentle curve of a bay, and even our very own ruin on the promontory.

Jemima and Kevin went to play after lunch, and came back with shells (and the usual influx of sand). Then a little family rest (Bahrain Grand Prix qualifying/ Wibbly Pig/ book 2 of the Cicero trilogy, depending on your poison); followed by a nice little family bike ride to the shop; and finally a trip into the nearest town for dinner.

Kevin is a very good driver, and Beatrix is big but not enormous; but these little Sicilian streets are not meant for motorhomes. After a stressful few minutes, we found a parking place and went to find somewhere to eat. Saturday night in San Croce Camerina: lots of men on street corners, with hordes of kids hanging around outside cafes. Not the nicest. And no restaurants. Eventually we found a take away pizzeria place that also had a few tables, and settled on that. But it was good pizza, after all the palaver, and then we retired home. Looking forward to exploring (and playing more on the beach) tomorrow.

Jemima and her cedro:

Playing on the beach:

Mount Etna to San Croce Camerina: