Our 12:30pm flight was not even on the board when we got to the airport around 10am - there are a heckuva lot of flights from there. It later appeared that one reason was because it was in fact a 12:40pm flight (I'd printed our boarding passes a month before).
We'd packed and breakfasted at leisure, discovering that I *really* should not have left my wet fleece jacket hanging in a separate wardrobe (ensuring it was overlooked when I did a load of washing). Good Lord, it stank. I mean ponged. I quickly zipped it into one of the packing cells, and then wrapped that in another layer of bag so as not to contaminate everything else nor utterly freak out any sniffer dogs.
I contemplated using public transport to get to the airport (I don't think you've really been to a place until you've navigated its PT system), but I was outvoted by the others. Given the uncertain timeframe, and the ticket cost for four people, I was not hard to persuade.
Through security and with a couple of hours to kill, we found a cafe for a drink - no, 11am is not too early for a drink in southern Europe - and a pastry for the boys. The gate for our flight was only posted a few minutes before boarding began, so by the time we got there we were straight into the queue and onto the plane.
The flight itself was uneventful, as all good plane trips should be, but there was some heavy cloud as we approached Catania. (This resolved into heavy rain shortly after we landed.) We got across to the hire car place (not screamingly obvious), where two separate buildings each hosted five or six hire car companies. (Hertz had a counter inside the terminal - if you ever fly into Catania and need a hire car, seriously consider paying the premium to go with them.)
Inside the building which held Europcar (with whom our prepaid reservation was made) were possibly as many as a hundred people in a not very large space. The two busy desks (Avis and Europcar) had a ticket system. My ticket was #51; they were up to #24 when I got it. At some point, dismayed by how unbelievably slow the process was, I checked whether it was possible to get fast-tracked given I already had a reservation. Ah no, everyone there had a reservation. Right, then. A German guy standing waiting near us said it was as busy as Sardinia's car hire set up, but far far more organised (no ticket system there). Things could always be worse! Oh, did I mention it was now absolutely pissing down?
It took well over an hour for our number to come up (complete with me whooping rather loudly when ours did finally tick over), and a long half hour extra to complete the process. We endured the upsell process: this Fiat 500L is a much better car that the small one you've reserved, it's diesel, and much bigger and more comfortable, and you can have it for just 12.60 euro a day extra, instead of 36 euro extra. Hmmm, nope, not unless you can throw it the GPS system as well. The GPS was to cost 12.30 - discounted from 15 euro - per day. Nope, couldn't possibly do that. In the end, we effectively got the GPS with the Fiat thrown in, as there were no small cars left, when it was clear I was getting mighty pissed off, and they'd best just bloody give us a car.
It took less time to drive the 195km from Catania to Solunto than it did to collect the damned car (and a shitbox it is too). The autostrada is two lanes with one shoulder in each direction and an upper speed limit of 130km/hr, although signs vary this often and drasatically (although such speed reductions seem rarely obeyed). The most bizarre thing about the autostrada speeds is that at any given time a car could be travelling at anything between 40km/hr and 150+. The exit ramp speed is 40, but very few cars actually move into the slip lane when slowing down to take the exit. Trucks and small cars are often speed limited too. Oh, and indicators are only occasionally used, and often left on for miles and miles (I'm sure my OCD-level use of indicators marks me out as a tourist as much as anything else.)
Carefully following the instructions provided by our host to our accommodation, we arrived around 6:30pm. After a brief introduction to the facilities (including a detailed exposition on the artworks on the walls - limited edition prints of paintings done by our host's husband), we had a cuppa tea and a brief collapse. Having eaten very little since breakfast, I was aware I getting a bit hangry, so we ventured down to nearby Porticello for dinner.
It was threatening to spit, so we decided to drive down to town, so we had some flexibility if the rain decided to get heavier. Ha! Once we had found a park, and had walked a few hundred metres further into town, the heavens opened. We eventually found an overhang where we sheltered for about 10minutes, with no sign of it abating. I then offered to go back and collect the car (no point all of us getting wet) and then come back and get them. I was soaked through to the skin within a few minutes, mostly dodging the ankle-deep puddles and gushing rivers flowing down the steep cobbled streets.
In trying to orient ourselves in the pissing-down rain, we managed to collect a lump of wood under our front axle, which took a fair bit to dislodge, and finally bullied the GPS into taking us to where the restaurants were. Of course by then, the rain was finally starting to ease. We picked one across from where we parked and had a very pleasant meal, in their toasty overflow upstairs seating area. (I was still dripping wet, so very happy to be in a warm place, although the others got a bit hot.)
Not the best day of this trip, but pretty much all first world problems. Except the f**king mosquitoes - they're a third world problem too. Flyscreens are utterly unknown here, and while the flies and mosquitoes aren't as plentiful as they are in some places, there's enough of them to be really bloody annoying. Will be getting some insect repellant tomorrow. **
** No insect repellant to be had, only bug sprays and plug-in zappers. We eventually went with mosquito coils.
We'd packed and breakfasted at leisure, discovering that I *really* should not have left my wet fleece jacket hanging in a separate wardrobe (ensuring it was overlooked when I did a load of washing). Good Lord, it stank. I mean ponged. I quickly zipped it into one of the packing cells, and then wrapped that in another layer of bag so as not to contaminate everything else nor utterly freak out any sniffer dogs.
I contemplated using public transport to get to the airport (I don't think you've really been to a place until you've navigated its PT system), but I was outvoted by the others. Given the uncertain timeframe, and the ticket cost for four people, I was not hard to persuade.
Through security and with a couple of hours to kill, we found a cafe for a drink - no, 11am is not too early for a drink in southern Europe - and a pastry for the boys. The gate for our flight was only posted a few minutes before boarding began, so by the time we got there we were straight into the queue and onto the plane.
The flight itself was uneventful, as all good plane trips should be, but there was some heavy cloud as we approached Catania. (This resolved into heavy rain shortly after we landed.) We got across to the hire car place (not screamingly obvious), where two separate buildings each hosted five or six hire car companies. (Hertz had a counter inside the terminal - if you ever fly into Catania and need a hire car, seriously consider paying the premium to go with them.)
Inside the building which held Europcar (with whom our prepaid reservation was made) were possibly as many as a hundred people in a not very large space. The two busy desks (Avis and Europcar) had a ticket system. My ticket was #51; they were up to #24 when I got it. At some point, dismayed by how unbelievably slow the process was, I checked whether it was possible to get fast-tracked given I already had a reservation. Ah no, everyone there had a reservation. Right, then. A German guy standing waiting near us said it was as busy as Sardinia's car hire set up, but far far more organised (no ticket system there). Things could always be worse! Oh, did I mention it was now absolutely pissing down?
It took well over an hour for our number to come up (complete with me whooping rather loudly when ours did finally tick over), and a long half hour extra to complete the process. We endured the upsell process: this Fiat 500L is a much better car that the small one you've reserved, it's diesel, and much bigger and more comfortable, and you can have it for just 12.60 euro a day extra, instead of 36 euro extra. Hmmm, nope, not unless you can throw it the GPS system as well. The GPS was to cost 12.30 - discounted from 15 euro - per day. Nope, couldn't possibly do that. In the end, we effectively got the GPS with the Fiat thrown in, as there were no small cars left, when it was clear I was getting mighty pissed off, and they'd best just bloody give us a car.
It took less time to drive the 195km from Catania to Solunto than it did to collect the damned car (and a shitbox it is too). The autostrada is two lanes with one shoulder in each direction and an upper speed limit of 130km/hr, although signs vary this often and drasatically (although such speed reductions seem rarely obeyed). The most bizarre thing about the autostrada speeds is that at any given time a car could be travelling at anything between 40km/hr and 150+. The exit ramp speed is 40, but very few cars actually move into the slip lane when slowing down to take the exit. Trucks and small cars are often speed limited too. Oh, and indicators are only occasionally used, and often left on for miles and miles (I'm sure my OCD-level use of indicators marks me out as a tourist as much as anything else.)
Carefully following the instructions provided by our host to our accommodation, we arrived around 6:30pm. After a brief introduction to the facilities (including a detailed exposition on the artworks on the walls - limited edition prints of paintings done by our host's husband), we had a cuppa tea and a brief collapse. Having eaten very little since breakfast, I was aware I getting a bit hangry, so we ventured down to nearby Porticello for dinner.
It was threatening to spit, so we decided to drive down to town, so we had some flexibility if the rain decided to get heavier. Ha! Once we had found a park, and had walked a few hundred metres further into town, the heavens opened. We eventually found an overhang where we sheltered for about 10minutes, with no sign of it abating. I then offered to go back and collect the car (no point all of us getting wet) and then come back and get them. I was soaked through to the skin within a few minutes, mostly dodging the ankle-deep puddles and gushing rivers flowing down the steep cobbled streets.
In trying to orient ourselves in the pissing-down rain, we managed to collect a lump of wood under our front axle, which took a fair bit to dislodge, and finally bullied the GPS into taking us to where the restaurants were. Of course by then, the rain was finally starting to ease. We picked one across from where we parked and had a very pleasant meal, in their toasty overflow upstairs seating area. (I was still dripping wet, so very happy to be in a warm place, although the others got a bit hot.)
Not the best day of this trip, but pretty much all first world problems. Except the f**king mosquitoes - they're a third world problem too. Flyscreens are utterly unknown here, and while the flies and mosquitoes aren't as plentiful as they are in some places, there's enough of them to be really bloody annoying. Will be getting some insect repellant tomorrow. **
** No insect repellant to be had, only bug sprays and plug-in zappers. We eventually went with mosquito coils.
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