Add this to the list of things to do before you die: drink a hot chocolate at Samovar cioccolateria on Via della Maestranza, Siracusa.  Hot chocolate in Italy, or at least here in Siracusa, is something entirely different than what you may have come to expect.  You know that powdered stuff you sprinkle into hot water or milk and stir for a thousand years until all the clumps disappear?  Shouldn’t be allowed to be called “hot chocolate”.  Here, “cioccolata calda” is like a cup of melted chocolate, thick and rich like perhaps a chocolate fondue.  At this particular place, we drank our cioccolates one night at a table for two, set with candles, looking through a window framed in wooden shutters out into a narrow cobblestone street, with ‘80s funk music (!) playing in the background.  We had the choice of about 30-40 different “flavors” – I had mine with amaretto, Allen had his with rum – and it came with a little plate of cookies for dipping.  The whole cost for everything? 6 euros ($8.)  Now, just so you can see how decadent we really are (and so you won’t be shocked by the size of us in the photos), I must confess that we did this TWICE in the same day!  Earlier, when Allen really really really needed a bathroom, we stopped in a little Mom & Pop bar, which contained Mom, Pop and a counter, and asked if we could use their toilette.  Feeling a little guilty, I figured we ought to order something, and before Allen could say “vino” I spied a little sign saying “cioccolata calda” and presto, there he stood with a steaming cup of it.  (We especially value steaming cups of anything, since I can only make a cup of coffee last for three sips, if I really try hard.)  After one spoonful, believe me, I was right there with him, and we sat and drank them in the little nook across the road we had been spying.  The photo is in the new album you can see by clicking here.

We spent our last day in Siracusa on a day trip to Taormina, a vacation spot high in the cliffs near Mount Etna and overlooking a beach resort called Giardini-Naxos.  We took the train, about a 2 hour ride, and when we got off at the Taormina station – which is at the foot of the cliff on which the city resides – we thought there was a 15-minute wait for the bus ride to the top.  But the bus was on a Sunday/holiday schedule, so we piled into a taxi with an Italian couple and a Brazilian and took the dizzying ride to the top (quite glad we didn’t attempt that by foot, especially the day after two hot chocolates.)  The town itself was too cutesy for our tastes – adorable in that way that tourists seem to like, with high-end clothes shops and never-ending gift/craft stores.  My first thought was that if I lived there, I’d avoid the main street like the plague.  There were a few interesting churches, palazzos, and lots of expensive restaurants, but the real highlight was the Greek theater, one of the largest and best preserved in the world.  We took lots of amazing photos, all with the smoking Mt. Etna in the background, none of which quite do it justice.  On the way home, we stopped in Catania and picked up the electrical converter, which we convinced the hotel to hold for us.  Truth be told, we already had two – on February 26, which shall forever be celebrated in our household, long after I had given up on ever finding one, and after visiting no less than 30 or 40 electrical supply stores, we finally found them in a hole-in-the-wall shop on an obscure corner in Catania late one night when I was only humoring Allen by asking one more time for un convertitore ellettrica.

Tomorrow: Agrigento!