I now know why it is called the leaning tower of Pisa; it is to distinguish it from all the other leaning towers (such as the leaning tower of Castello, the leaning tower of Murana and the leaning tower of Burana, to cite three we have seen up close in the space of a couple of days).
Something that the histories do not make clear is what a destructive, thieving pest Napoleon was. Visiting Malta and Venezia in quick succession (and going to the Museums and reading the exhibitions and guide book) makes it clear how much thieving Napoleon got up to and how destructive he was (particularly in Venice).
Have been struck by the scale of medieval building. Some of the cathedrals are enormous, for example.
In Venezia, the scale of the Arsenale is striking; it covered a ninth of the city at its full extent.
In Padova particularly, one gets a real sense of the vigour of the Northern Italian emergence from the Dark Ages, a sense of emerging cities full of bustling purpose and underlying confidence about the possibilities of the future.
Have been impressed with how well-socialised Venezian children are--cheerful, well-behaved, affectionate and un-self-conscious. Watching a maybe 5 year old boy happily dance with himself down the Via Garibaldi, apparently not caring in the slightest that he could be seen by a couple of hundred people, mostly strangers, expressed the last particularly.
We keep running into school groups. I suppose excursions are easy when you can mostly walk places of interest. (Also, I doubt they suffer from the consequences of a litigious society as the Anglosphere does.)

Wednesday
Took the 4.2 waterbus to Murana, the glass-making island. Had a very pleasant pork sandwich and a proscuitto-and-extras toasted roll for breakfast (they had provided two rolls and N only wanted one) in between wandering through various glass shops and the streets and across the canals of Murana. The glass work generally did not do it for me, and the official glass blowing exhibitions are on Tuesday and Thursday and require a booking of at least 20 people. Found the Glass Museum of more interest, particularly as it had Roman glass. It was fairly clear, looking at the exhibits, that the medievals had caught up to Roman glass standards by the C15th and exceeded them in the C16th. We did find an actual medieval church (rebuilt in C12th on a C9th Eastern Roman church), which was a fine thing. (N and I are a bit over Baroque churches.) One of the factories near the main waterbus stop had a wide open door, so tourists could gawk at glass-blowing being done. Murana was very Venezia, with canals, bridges and only pedestrian roads, except a bit more spacious.

We had lunch at Ristorante Dalla Mora. N and I had a mixed grilled seafood for two; the serving of half each onto our plates by the waiter was an engaging spectacle in itself, as he expertly divided and de-boned the fish. The grilled seafood was delicious. We also shared a mixed salad and a half-litre of vino bianca.

Next to us was a table of four, who became a table of five, gay guys; all in their 30s or older. Did not understand a word they said, but reading the body language was engaging. There was the Daddy (who looked like a typical middle-aged Italian man, until he stood up, when he was much trimmer than the norm) and the Rough Trade who was apparently with him and either was conflicted about that or surly was his way of playing the relationship (or both). There was the Friendly Guy who was paired with Socially Awkward Guy. They were joined by Charming Guy, who got along particularly well with Friendly Guy, which seemed to make Socially Awkward Guy feel left out and a bit nervous about how well Charming Guy was engaging Friendly Guy. Not understanding a word they said probably did make body-language stand out more.

Then we took a very crowded route 12 waterbus from Murana to Burana, the lace making island. This turned out to be (rather surprisingly) more fun for me than N. We both enjoyed the way houses were all painted (various pastels--though there was one in Agro Green--and obviously they had to be different from each neighbour). It made Burana a charming pastel village.

The island also had space for gardens and various parks. Passing the smell of cut grass in one was a nice change. I was quite taken with some of the lace on display. Also, with the Lace Museum (which had almost as many costume pieces as the Costume Museum), a film on loop where the main piece that had been put together was hanging in a display case next to seats you watched the film from. There were paintings (and photographs) showing people in lace, displays of laces you could pull out and have a look at and elderly women making lace in a light, airy room near a window overlooking the square. I have a new appreciation of lace.

We then took a number 12 waterbus back to the main waterbus terminal. The large crowd of people waiting to get on was a bit of a worry, but it was one of the large waterbuses I had seen but we had not yet been on and it was fine. We stood in the front cabin and had a good view. Both to and from Murana, passed Cimenetaria stop, which is the cemetery island (since Napoleon). The water hearse N had pointed out early in our stay made so much sense.

At the main terminal, we changed to a 4.1 waterbus back to our stop. Passed the main hospital, which had a floating ambulance outside it. For the first time, there was a guy checking tickets. It was obvious the students/children all had permanent photo id tickets. It made me glad I had been validating mine each time.

Wandered back home for some quiet time.

During our wanderings, had passed a boat with crane unloading gear at the end of our street. The bit of the road that just ends at the canal turns out to be the "services entrance". Had also passed a lifting device being use to put furniture in through a window; that is how you move in Venezia.

After a while, wandered out to the Via Garibaldi for dinner; at Ristorante Biennale again. I had spaghetti with cuttlefish sauce (which was lovely), H had lasagne (which looked like "real" lasagne and he said was good). We shared some vino bianca and then a formaggio mista (mixed cheese). Cheese plates in Venezia make what passes for cheese plates in Melboune just look sad.

Then a mildly circuitous wander back home.

You look at male deities seizing unwilling women and you think "oh yes, scenes of male dominance". But then you look at a Judith looking you in the eye with a knife in her had and the head of Holofernes sitting next to her and that is not quite the subtext.
While we were in Padova Friday night, wandering along discussing the many ways Northern Italy was different to Southern Italy, a live demonstration played out in front of us. A gentleman (I would guess hairdresser by his white coat, but could have been a pharmacist) started yelling loudly (saying at a guess "stop thief!" with elaboration) chasing a guy in front of him. Immediately, all the pedestrians started converging to cut the fellow running away off so the angry guy in the white coat could seize him, one fellow waved and shouted to the police and last we saw, the gentleman in the white coat was dragging the recalcicrant back, presumably for him to pay.
The further North we go, the more African men we see. They are a notable feature of Venice, hanging around in groups, or flogging handbags, or sunglasses, or whatever.

Sunday (continued)
Pottered and relaxed around the apartment for a while. kirieldp went online to search for a restaurant, reporting the various results to us. Notionally, they were supposed to be in the Castello area, but the search did not actually restrict that way, as we found when working out where the restaurant we agreed upon was. So we took the bus and went off to Ristorante ai Barbarcani. The free glass of Proseco at the beginning and the free glass of Grappa or Lemincella at the end was cute, as were the ship models decorating the walls. The sardines in onion entrée that N and kirieldp (she gave me a taste) were good, as were my marinated anchovies. The rest was a bit of a disappointment; N enjoyed his lamb chops, kirieldp salted cod was OK and my Sole was unexciting, though the vegetables were generally done well (except that N and I are both over honeyed carrots; it's an SCA thing). N and kirieldp's pannacotta's had too much added to them and my profiteroles were ordinary. So, online research did not pay off; our technique of wandering by and seeing if it looked good has been working much better.

We then wandered a little more, before taking the route 1 waterbus (which stops every stop) on a leisurely trip back to Castello, which was a good way to see Venice at night. The waterbuses are a 24-hour service, though only in the centre bit of the Grand Canal from about midnight to about 5 am. Back to the flat, winding down and sleep.

Monday
Since kirieldp was leaving, she got to nominate where to go. Which turned out to be, after another breakfast at al Casa Venuci, going to the Diocesan Museum, which had paintings, architectural remnants, woodwork and metal work from former churches. This was a lot of fun, especially as it included furniture, tools, a large copy of a medieval map, a large copy of a 1500 woodcut of the entire city and various other goodies. It had a particularly good brief discussion of pilgrimages and relics. We then walked back to the flat and walked kirieldp down to the route 5.2 waterbus to the bus station.

N and I then had a pleasant but unremarkable lunch at Bar 98o on the Via Garibaldi (I had tagliatelle funghi porcini, he had chicken with vegetables plus a glass of white wine each). We walked down to the Maritime Museum (which had been open when we went past in the morning) but, it turned out, closed at 1.30pm. So we went for a long wander down the far end of Castello, working around the Arsenale (which is still a military area). We visited San Pietro di Campo, which proved to be a delightful, rather cleanly neo-classical church with the Baroque over-doneness restricted to the main altar and various side altars. We found ourselves back in the Via Garibaldi, so went home for a break and wind down.

Eventually, we decided it was time for dinner so walked back to the Via Garibaldi and had a very pleasant meal at Ristorante Biennale--I had livers Venetian style, N had an ample and varied plate of fried seafood (which was too much for him, so I gamely finished it off on his behalf), with 1/2 litre of white wine. N followed with a lemon torte, I followed with formaggio misto (mixed cheese) which was also ample and varied. We have been having water "with gas" with our meals, Italian sparkling water being a fine thing.

We then walked along the foreshore to Piazza San Marco where diners were being serenaded by string quartets. The Piazza has a magical feel at night. We then struck out for another wander before eventually weaving our way home, for pottering time and bed. One our evening wandering, we passed various musical buskers and musicians playing to restaurants. N's expression and comments on some of these have been amusing. Particularly his expression at an accordion player leading a restaurant crowd in a lusty rendition of "When the Saints Go Marching In" (not exactly a Catholic song).

Tuesday
Earlyish in the morning, I dozily wondered why there seemed to be someone moving around in the mezzanine bedroom above me. We found out later there had been a mild tremor.

Got up in a leisurely fashion, wandered down to the foreshore, went to one of the booths so I could buy a (cheap) Venetian flag, then back to the Museo Naval Storica (Museum of Naval History), which turned out to be fabulous. Amazing models (including one of a C16th Korean turtle boat), C16th and C17th models of Venetian fortifications mounted on walls, a great Asian maritime display on one room, a great Swedish maritime display on the top floor.

But it closed at 1.30pm, so we wandered off and had a pleasant but unremarkable meal at Ristorante Cleopatra (I had spaghetti Napoletana--they warned me it had anchovies; it did but they had clearly dissolved into the oil) while N had a carbonara which he found boring one (I tasted it, it was). Then onto the Piazza San Marco and the Ducal Palace, which was lots of fun, with magnificent rooms, spectacular art, nice explanations of the Venetian political system, a great armoury and a side trip across the Bridge of Sighs through the "New Prison", built in the C16th, the first purpose-built just-a-prison in Europe. Then more of a wander, grabbed a wrap and back home to wind-down.

Then off for another longish wander, eventually being inveigled by a persuasive waiter to have a meal at Ristorante Artisti Agli. We had the set fish meal; we hadn't done the full Italian meal, so both had the fish meal each having the version they other did not. It started with marinated sardines (me, rather pleasant) and seafood salad (N) then spaghetti in cuttlefish sauce (me, very nice; it's a Venetian speciality) and spaghetti with clams (N) followed by mixed fried seafood (me, quite pleasant) and Sole in sauce (N; the sauce overwhelmed the fish) and finished up with a chocolate cake (me, a bit dry) and lemon torte (him). N also had a cappuccino, which he found quite bitter and needed both sachets of sugar.

Then we took another wander. After a while, what we presumed was the fireworks display in the distance seemed to be getting louder. It turned out to be a thunderstorm and it started to rain. I had spotted the Grand Canal and a street we went down to see where we were turned out to be a waterbus stop (Cara d'oro), so we took a waterbus back. The Grand Canal at night lit up by periodic lightning is very spectacular. Then home.

Friday (continued)
After some time resting and interneting at the hotel, went out and wandered around enjoying the sights and looking for a place to have dinner. I said I wanted something with a good view that did not just to pizza but was not too upmarket. So after a genial wander, ended up at Catena Mobile looking across the square at the Palazzo della Ragione, which was rather magnificently lit. (Old city Padua looks particularly good at night). I had Venetian Liver (it was wonderful--liver cooked with onion in a rich gravy with grilled polenta) and N had baked cockerel with potatoes, which was also splendid. I had a Forst red beer, which was excellent and then helped N drink his 1/2 litre of white wine. I then had a pannacotta with caramel sauce which was wonderful. N had a ricotta torte with creme inglese (custard). N felt it was marred by using almond essence in the torte. Then we wandered off and found some of the remaining walls before returning to the hotel. Which N found despite not having brought a map with him.

Saturday
Breakfast at the hotel--fresh fruit and yoghurt, with some pumpernickel, cheese and salami. Then booked out, left our baggage backpacks with the hotel and wandered off to what proved to be the highlight, the Scrovegni chapel decorated by Giotto, part of the Civic Museum complex (pictures here).

The frescoes were amazing, both individually and in total effect. I was struck by the very balanced composition, both the obvious vice and virtue on opposite walls but balancing male and female. I liked the touch where the Devil literally consumes sinners (one disappearing down his gullet while he was defecating out another). The weeping mothers in the slaughter of the innocents put the lie about parents not attaching to their children in past centuries.

We walked back to the hotel noticing (as we had not so much on the way there) that little was open and few people about in the old city. Walking to the station, only a couple of snack bars were open,so had wraps at Cafebricco at the station. (They also served enormous wedges of pizza, if you were interested.)

N managed to work out the ticket machine, though the lack of time information on the printed out tickets was a bit disconcerting. Took a pleasant train trip to Venezia S Lucia, though we walked the length of the platform twice because I expected the first class carriages to be behind the engine, and they turned out to be the other end. Long queue for waterbus once we were out of S Lucia station, though we worked out we were in the queue for the wrong waterbuses. Sorted that out and got to the flat back on 4pm, as agreed. Worked things out with the landlord, though he spoke almost no English (there was a helpful letter from his wife, who did but could not be there). We potted around the very nice flat (with working WiFi, oh joy) waiting for kirieldp to turn up, which she duly did.

After doing hello, great to see you, catching up thing we wandered off, eventually having dinner at Trattoria Bandierette, where N and I had lovely platters of grilled seafood, kirieldp had pasta with pumpkin and smoked ricotta with mixed salads and chips to share. (Mixed salads are quite often a bit sad, but the Italian habit of putting oil and vinegar on the table allows such salads to be greatly improved.) I followed with a splendid formaggio misto (cheese plate) and N had a diabolically good lemon cake with white chocolate centre. Then off to the Piazza San Marco, which is lovely at dusk. Diners were being serenaded by various string quartets. Then we wandered back home, doing a bit of window shopping (a place that had some striking chess sets, amongst other things) and some mask-browsing and t-shirt shopping (I bought three) at another establishment. Once back at the apartment, Eurovision failed to turn up on any of the zillion channels on the TV, much to kirieldp's disappointment.

Sunday
N got up to the sound of the bell's, saying sourly "I can take a hint". (It was after 8am, the poor thing.) We sent him on a supermarket expedition, then we wandered off trying to find the Palazzo Moncenigo housing the Museum of Textiles. Because of the big race, the waterbus was on a short route, so we got off at Piazza San Marco (on the second time around). We stopped on the way for a pleasant light breakfast of wraps and roll. Then we detoured to Palazzo Querini, which was a pleasant wander through a C18th Venezian stately home which also had a good bookshop. N found a crepery and was terribly excited, and had a nutella crepe (I followed suit).

We found the Palazzo Moncenigo and then backtracked for a lovely lunch at Osteria Trattoria al Nono Ristoranto "Al Bacareto"; N had carbonara, I had a lovely tagliatelle pesto and kirieldp a "four seasons" pizza. The Museum of Textiles proved to be a bit of a disappointment (a whole 4 period costumes, which were spectacular, and various samples under cover) but it was quite an impressive great Venezian noble house. Alas, no decent book about the Palazzo or the collection and you weren't allowed to take pictures.

We then tried to find the Museum of Jewish History, which we eventually did but it was closed for Shavout (the festival celebrating the giving on the Law on Mt Sinai). It did mean we located the Jewish quarter (the original Ghetto) and wandered back home, using the waterbus. Which is rather more fun when you know what you are looking at (and what awaits you at the other end).

Mediterranean driving is one of weak expectations. Things that would end badly back in places with stronger expectations about rule-following, folk get away with because everyone is much more alert to sudden actions. Hence Mediterranean driving is a process of constant and assertive negotiation. Noticeably less use of traffic lights than in comparable Australian cities. We have seen various types of police (municipal, regional, carabinieri, garda di finanzia) in Sicily but no sign of traffic police; hence the traffic code not being so much a code as more of a general guideline.

Thin cats and enthusiastically swirling swallows are to the two most vivid images of the fauna of Catania (though there was a thin and piteous kitten trying to cadge some of our lunch at Siracusa).

Thursday
Took a day trip by bus to Siracusa, after another croissant-with-custard and hot chocolate (Cioccolata calda) breakfast at Cafe Bruca. Bus dumped us at a stop with no information. Found some Roman ruins which had very impressive gate and fence keeping you away from them. Walked back to the old city. This is Sicily, so the foreshore is a place to put police, military, railways, freeways. Not, however, in the old city proper, which has some of the best use of foreshores we have seen so far, Walked up the seaside foreshore around to the C13th castle and C16-early C19th fort on the promontory. This turned out to be another (rather splendid) castle built by Frederick di Svebia (Stupor Mundi). Having seen two of his castles, and pictures of others, N has decided that, if he comes back to Sicily, he would settle for a tour of castles built by Frederick, any Norman bits actually still standing, forget the rest.

Castle Mancia even had (oh joy!) a guide book (quite a good one). N had spotted it and bought it. I was going to buy one when I got back to the ticket office. This is Sicily; it closed at 1pm so I was out of luck. But the castle was great. The cannon fort was moderately impressive but, as N said, it would have seemed much more impressive if we hadn't recently been to Valetta.

Walked back down the habourside. Stopped at Lungolatte Ristobar with a spectacular view over the Bay of Syracuse for lunch. We had a glass of vino bianca each. I had grilled fish (sardines and spectacular sea bream) followed by tiramasu. N had scaloppine with lemon and a lemon torte. Walked into the main square, which was surprisingly large for a medieval city. The cathedral was a striking conjunction of a Greek temple into which a Romanesque Norman cathedral had been constructed with later Baroque add ons. There was one, completely unnamed, apparently condemned clearly medieval building, a couple of C15th buildings, a C15th city gate, but the old city was mostly Baroque or Neoclassical. Walked down to the foreshore and into the newer parts of the city: Siracusa is much better supplied with public gardens with shade trees than Catania. But it clearly also has the advantage of "taking off" only in the C20th, so has less space issues.

Walked up to the archaeological park. Saw the Roman amphitheatre, which mostly overgrown but far more extant than Catania's. Found what we thought was the box office for tickets wasn't, so had to walk back the way we came to an area with tourist traps laid on. I succumbed to a t-shirt and a cute picture of a classical Greek scene. Bought the tickets and then back the way we had gone (again) to the Greek theatre. Which had lots of scaffolding, modern sound gear, wooden planking, etc for an event being planned there. It was sought of nice that it still being used. Its setting was magnificent, with the Bay of Syracuse behind it. Then, after going diametrically the wrong way, walked to the reputed tomb of Archimedes, which you can look at from a distance through another fence grill. Then walked back to the bus terminal, had an Italian lemon soda at a streetside bar while we waited and bused back to Catania.

After a small break, had another meal in the Trattoria Sapora in the local Piazza Marconi. N had the Fantasia alla Chef (excellent seafood on spaghetti), I had a very fine carbonara and then we both had some grilled horse, which we both enjoyed. We shared a rather pleasant bottle of white wine. Then we walked down to the Piazza di Martiri where the electric blue neon halo over the statue of St Agatha was on! So we appreciated the spectacle, walked back to the central square where we were able to buy bus tickets at an open tobacconist and then we each had two of St Agatha's breasts (small marzipan iced cakes with a red cherry on top), me with Cioccolata calda (hot chocolate) and N with tea, at Cafe Presidio. Then back to the flat and packed, ready for an early departure next morning.

Friday
Got up, did morning things, had breakfast (cornflakes and sugar for N, cheese and bread plus bread,butter and honey for me), cleaned up and left Vico Castro for the final time. Walked down to the bus terminal, inquiry directed us to the correct bus, bused to airport, which proved to be a model of efficiency (once we worked out to go to the machines, get our boarding passes, and which was the already-checked in baggage queue. The Air Italia flight was very smooth and we got to Venezia airport early, with the baggage becoming available shortly after we got to the terminal. N said it was fine to go out the market exit as we had nothing to declare; I pointed out that it was an internal flight and so we weren't going through customs.

Getting a bus (and even more a ticket for the bus) for Padova (Padua) turned out to be a bit more exciting. N tried to buy our tickets when we got off at Padova, but the driver wasn't interested. Still, we got there (via Venezia, because that is the bus route). Northern Italy is visibly richer than Sicily. Also, we travelled a total of about 40+km and did not hear a single car horn. There were speed trap warnings. I even saw a policeman who had clearly pulled over a truck. We may, indeed, be in a different country (culturally if not legally).

We stopped at the Railway Station (which looked rather Fascist era in architecture) to get a map and stop for a light repast--no hot chocolate at Briccocafe, but the wrap was superior.

Walked to hotel in the middle of the medieval town. Nice facilities; WiFi not so much, though we could get some access by alternating using N's iPad (only one machine at a time could be logged in; or so it appeared--if you ignore the error messages and just wait, apparently it is all fine).

We wandered off and had pasta (tagliattate bolognese for me, lasagna for N at Livorno Bar, circumnavigated around the (enormous) medieval cathedral, then into the main square where we paid to go into the Palazzo della Ragione, the C13th political and legal centre of Padua. It contained an enormous, magnificent medieval hall with a very high vaulted wooded roof and frescoes around the wall. There was an enormous wooden horse plus an exhibition of uninteresting mid C20th art collected by a doctor brother and wife (there were three interesting pieces and two striking ones; the rest was a monument to mediocre taste). Stopped for a sparkling water, N also had a cappuccino.

Padua also has beggars (those in Catania tended to be more stationary and passive). We walked down to the Basilica of St Anthony, a magnificent (and very large) Romanesque cathedral with Baroque add-ons. Kept wandering through Padua, which is very much a lived-in city. New buildings have generally built in a style sympathetic to the existing buildings. We investigated the C16-18th bastion walls, but it turned out little was left apart from the line of the dry moat. Walked down to a major park, in the middle of a huge open space, full of (it appeared) C18th statues of prominent folk from Paduan history on either side of, and looking away from, a surrounding water feature. Then back towards and into the old city. Stopped for gelati for N (he tried for lemon and got mint chocolate) and sparkling water for me. (The sparkling water has been persistently superior; the bread in Sicily was also consistently good.) Then back to the University of Padua, where we waited to sign up for the 5.15 tour. I took a break in a hole-in-the-war bar, having an arianciata (I have always liked Italian soft drinks) and a hot chocolate (my attempts to say ciocolatta con panne failed miserably, until rescued by an English speaking student or young member of faculty.) Then it was off to the tour, which started in the University Senate room which was originally the anatomy theory lecture theatre. It had portraits of various professors of anatomy back to the first in 1535, and (mounted and in glass case) the skulls of some of said professors, who had donated their bodies to the faculty. Then in it was into a room next for the famous (and first anywhere) theatre of practical anatomy, where background information was given before smaller groups could go in and have a "body's eye view" of the theatre. Then down to commemorative statue of the first woman graduate anywhere, who graduated in 1678.

Then a casual wander back to the hotel, passing through a flea market.

Balconies in Catania seem mostly for show, though they do seem to be good places to put potted plants (sometimes a bit sad), air-conditioners and satellite dishes.
School groups seem quite common wandering around; the children seem generally well-behaved.
It actually rained Tuesday night (naturally, since I had put out some more handwashing that morning, but it was mostly dry). While I would not want to have it as a permanent regime, do find handwashing restful.

Wednesday
After breakfast at Cafe Bruca (croissant filled with apricot jam) and hot chocolate (dark) went to the Tourist information office, N asking about buses and trains to Syracuse was not so successful with the young lady there. So, went to the railway station and found that next train to Siracusa was 12.45 (the 10.08 express apparently did not count). Failing to find anything resembling a regional time table or place to buy tickets at the adjacent bus terminal, wandered back to Tourist information office, where asking the middle aged man now manning the desk about Siracusa was more successful, he giving us a bus timetable and directions to the other bus terminal.

We took one of the local open deck bus tours of Catania, which was of some interest (mainly due to the commentary) but we have clearly seen most of what there is to see in Catania. Wandered back to the Cathedral, which really is a splendid neoclassical cathedral in its interior. Then a few tourist shops (mainly to buy postcards and in the vague hope the rather good Acicastello castle t-shirt might be on sale; it wasn't) then checked out the bus terminal near the port, which had a clear place to buy tickets. Then through the markets, where I bought another wedge of cheese to sample and back to Trattoria Vecchi Sapori in Piazza Mazzini where we shared a litre of vino bianca and both had spaghetti amatricana.

We retired for a quite time of reading, sleeping, writing. Then off to a walk so I could take some pictures of the electric halo added to the C18th statue of St Agatha in the Piazza del Matiri then back for some kebabs, buying a Peroni Gran Riserva for me and one of N's girlie drinks (he wanted some alcohol that wasn't wine) some watching of Italian TV (Walker, Texas Ranger seemed the best offering) and, eventually, to bed.

Monday
After croissant filled with custard and two hot chocolates (the hot chocolates in Sicily have been spectacular) at Cafe Bruca, wandered off to the C13th castle built by Frederico di Svebia, which was wonderful (apart from the lack of a guide book to buy and not allowed to take photos inside). Thick walls, vaulted stone ceilings, medieval and later windows, Roman and Greek artifacts on the first floor (including some terrific pottery) and fairly ordinary C16th-C19th art on the second floor. But you could wander around the outside and the internal courtyard; which had various classical findings piled up in one corner, including 4 splendid examples of Roman trade amphora which deserved better treatment. The castle was a royal residence and the place the first Sicilian Parliament (1283) met. Later a viceregal residence, then administrative centre then prison. Originally it was on the sea cost, but lava flows from the 1669 eruption meant it became 2kms(!) from the sea and the 1693 earthquake destroyed two small towers and damaged one of the big corner ones.

Then lunch at Trattoria Panineria Noe in Piazza Mazzini. Had a pleasantly buttery spaghetti carbonara with white wine (N reported the carbonara at the place across from it in the Piazza had been better). Walked to the internet Cafe Bruca (another hot chocolate) then to the Tourist Information centre. Then, with a bit of back-tracking, off to the Roman Amphitheatre (or the part that was excavated and no under roads and buildings), which one could walk around but not in. N felt it was rather unloved. Still, it gave a good sense of a large provincial Roman Ampitheatre, with an estimated seating of c.16,000 (which made it one of the larger in the Roman Empire).

Then onto the Greek Theatre, whose entrance in the Via Victor Emmanuelle II is easy to miss (we had walked past it several times since we got here). The Roman ampitheatre s just an open space with a fence, the Greek Theatre required tickets for entry. It had an estimated seating of 7,000 in the main theatre and 1,300 in the Odeon. But you could walk through and over it, since almost all of it has been excavated. The Graeco-Roman brickwork was considerably better than the medieval brickwork of what looked like might have been medieval cisterns.

At neither the Castle nor the Greek Theatre was there anything for sale apart from entry tickets. Everywhere we went in Malta, they were only too ready to sell you useful guide books (in several languages), relevant reference works and fictional treatments plus all sorts of souvenirs. They were also (generally) much better at signposting things. The Maltese were almost annoyingly keen to sell you things; in Catania, commercial opportunities seem to go begging. Catania does not seem to entirely understand what Malta does--if you are going to keep your historical sights preserved, they need an income source. Catania also has beggars, which Malta does not.

While the EU flag is in evidence in Catania, it was much more evident in Malta. Of course, so was EU spending. Horns seem to be a necessary part of Mediterranean driving. In Catania, like much of Malta, they are useful for announcing your impending emergence around a blind corner (of which there are quite a few).

Then to the Cathedral of Saint Agatha, a very tasteful Baroque exterior but more Neo-classical interiors cathedral built to replace the damage to the Norman cathedral in the 1693 earthquake. We both greatly preferred it to the appallingly vulgar Baroque cathedral of St John in Valetta. Followed by a bookshop and back to the flat. Had a light meal of bread with cheese then butter and honey. Rested for a while, N wrote, I dozed, then out for a walk and a little bit of shopping. Found Peroni Gran Reserva, one of my favourite beers, which made me happy. There was a Bellini concert in one of the main squares. Then to bed.

Tuesday
Next day, back to Cafe Bruca--a white hot chocolate and a chocolate filled croissant this time. Then we walked to the 1943 Bombardment Museum, which was fabulous. The best interactive experience so far and clearly one of the best war museums anywhere. Covers the Sicilian campaign of July-August 1943, but does it splendidly. Including sitting in an air raid shelter during a simulated bombing raid. It is apparently aimed at school groups, one of which was going through while we were there. As is apparently typical in Catania, no guide book or souvenirs to buy.

Then took a taxi up the coast to Acicastello, which has a splendid Norman castle on a promontory and the islands who myth says the blinded Cyclops threw into the sea at Odysseus. Had some amazing self-service antipasto at Pizzeria al Tubo with white wine. I also had some Spaghetti alla Palermitana (sardines with pine nuts) which was also splendid. The TV was on (a daytime soap; impossibly pretty people interacting melodramatically). N loved the Italian ads, which always seemed to have a self-deprecating tone.

Waddled off (my lunch was very filling) to explore the splendid (largely intact) C11th Norman castle. N declared it the most defensible medieval fortification he had seen. Mounted on a spur of volcanic rock, only approachable through a narrow ledge, its lord would have been lord of all he surveyed. Back in Catania, I had thought the contrast between the Graeco-Roman brickwork and later medieval brickwork fairly sad, a sign of a loss of skills. But the castle at Acicastello is an immensely impressive feat of construction. Yes, the brick work lacks the symmetry and fine finish of the Graeco-Roman work of a thousand years earlier, but it was almost a thousand years old and going strong. Moreover, an imposing castle had been built on top of sheer rock with very narrow access (which had to be constructed in the first place). All done by hand plus a few pulleys; sheer determination being literally on display. The grasping energy of the Normans resonating down the centuries. They were, however, a small ruling elite and the residual has clearly long since diluted away--once again, nothing resembling guide books or souvenirs for sale, but there was a display table of such things, with absolutely no indication of where they might be purchased.

Got a bus back; payment was not required (apparently because we were ignorant foreigners and had not pre-purchased the right card--the equivalent of the MyKi disease has apparently struck here too). While Acicastello itself was clearly fairly prosperous (lots of professional offices and some smart modern houses built to fit into the streetscape) as we went through the rural bit of the trip, you could see that Sicily was richer than Malta; volcanic soil being much more fertile than Malta's. Clearly, however, Malta is better organised so query how long Sicily will remain richer.

Looking out at what I now recognise as volcanic rock from past lava flows forming the coast line and thinking of how the C13th castle used to be one the coast but is now 2kms from it due to a 1669 eruption, this land may be old in human civilisation terms but it is young and active geologically. Being Australian means a very odd placement in terms of "young/old". Geologically very old land, in terms of human habitation old (much older than Europe); in terms of being a country young but with one of the first and oldest continuous democracies in the modern world and one the older continuously operating constitutions. Government spends about 34% of Australia's GDP, much lower than in Europe; but the Europeans don't seem to get much out of that extra 10+ %pts of GDP spent by the political-bureaucratic elites who brought us the Euro.

After a lounge around back to the flat, went out so N could have a pasta (carbonara) at the local Piazza. We both had a bianca vino and then wandered into the main square for some gelati (we had better in Malta) then back home. While we were dining, a local and an East Asian guy turned up on a motorcycle and were joined by other East Asian and local young men taking a table in the corner of the piazza; clearly united by some common interest but not clear what. Motorcycles are rare; motor scooters are much more common and make perfect sense for the narrow, winding streets.

Principles of Mediterranean driving seem to be--horns are a form of communication, it is preferred if you indicate and whatever you are doing, do it clearly. They may not let you do it, but they want to know what you are trying to do.

"It's Malta", the good-natured statement by the large, cheerful English lady who sold, and later refunded, our cancelled-cruise tickets seems a good summary.
At the local taxi rank, taxi drivers wait in shade chatting, smoking, rather than sitting alone in cabs.
Maltese guide books are generally well done--clear, informative, not big-noting.

The educated Maltese middle class of the 1930s (what would now be known as the chattering class) was eager for Malta to embrace its Italian nationhood and destiny: what a bad idea that was, Malta is so much better off not being part of Italy. But, given the educated middle class tends to control the framing of public debate, whatever its current enthusiasms are often seem more compelling than later experience suggests was warranted.

How small Malta seems from air, as we fly over it; Sicily is clearly much greener.

Met at Catania airport by our landlord, taken to apartment (in Vico Castro). Like the apartment in Malta, in an old building but with recent internal modernisation. Much better supplied with cleaning liquids. After settling in (which required form filing in with passports: none of that in Malta) and payment, the landlord left and N and I took a short walk to main square (which is fairly magnificent). On way back, I bought some yoghurt and we had some delicious pasta at Trattoria Sapora with a generous glass of wine each.

Saturday
Breakfast at an internet Cafe Bruca in Via Victor Emmanuele II, whose card was given to us at the Tourist Information Office. Great hot chocolates. Then walked through extensive markets, down towards the South of the city. This turned out to be not very productive, being mainly industrial and dilapidated. Colourful two horse carts blaring music were a charming interlude. Guy driving off on motor scooter with toddler under one arm was striking. Came back to the main square, had another great pasta (linguine ai frutti de mare; N had a capriciosa pizza, also very good) then some nutella-flavoured ice-cream at Caffe del Duomo. Walked around the newer bits of the older part of town and then back to the apartment. Catania was rebuilt after a devastating earthquake in 1693, no doubt the same earthquake that demolished much of Mdina on Malta.
Came back, I slept, N wrote. Went out, got some kebabs and Mexican beer (Sol). Discovered a trick--go to the Indian run places, they speak English. Took them back to apartment.

Sunday
Went for a walk down to the seafront, which is cut off from pedestrians by the train tracks. But, as N said, where else could they put them? The railway station was built to fit in with the C18th architecture. There is also a 1920s (judging from the free-form rocks) fountain of a classical god seizing a resisting naked female form. Passed what was not so much a red light district as, in N's words, a dull globe district. Two corners on which ladies of negotiable affection plied their trade. On one corner there was what I can only described as a "dolled up dyke" plus a lady of ample breasts amply on display. The next corner had three grimly middle-aged ladies who seemed neither particularly up for negotiation or notably capable of affection.

Catania does not have the women's underwear ads that were such a feature of Malta. Compared to Malta, there is a distinct lack of billboards.

Mary was omnipresent in Malta but, without that, Catholic public religious art is very masculine. Had a light breakfast at a il Chioschetto Breakfast Bar--sugar is apparently compulsory for breakfast (I had a nutella croissant), though it served the bitterest hot chocolate I have had since Pellegrinis. Walked back to apartment. On way, I stopped off for some interneting at an Internet Cafe run, like the Kebab place and a mini market I bought yoghurt in, by Indians who seem to a feature of the retail life of Catania. Using Explorer (having been a Mac boy for quite a while now) with Italian menus, a mouse without a pad and an Italian keyboard (the @ was a third choice on a key, for example) was a bit of a challenge.

Back at the apartment, experienced the joys of handwashing clothes and hanging them out on balcony to dry. The latter is much more a feature of Catania than Malta.

Rather more Africans in evidence in Catania than in Malta. For lunch, had swordfish and red cabbage (plus finishing off N's meat sauce penne) at Cafe Prestipino with a glass of rather pleasant white wine. It was a point-and-order place. The swordfish was a little dry, but flavoursome (and went particularly well with the red cabbage) while the pasta was excellent.

Walked up the Via Etna to a sadly neglected, but nicely laid out, hillside gardens that modern roads had entirely cut off from convenient pedestrian access, despite the gardens clearly being visible the entire length of the Via Etna. Walked back down the Via Empedocles which angled off to the South. It seemed to roughly mark the boundary between the old city and the new city--the latter mostly full of modernist apartments of varying degrees of appalling, some of which were already in a considerable state of decay. Quite a few Chinese restaurants as one walks around Catania but no sign of any actual Chinese folk (perhaps said restaurants are also run by Indians?).

After a bit of a break, wandered out and had a lovely dinner at Osteria Antica Sicilia, a more upmarket place with gracious but harassed and over-worked waiters. I had a lovely scaloppine al funghi with salad (red cabbage even), N had a fine steak with grilled vegetables with a chalice of wine each--a nice amount. The whites have persistently been better than the reds. N then had a ricotta cheese cake with pistacchio and almonds, I had a chocolate covered profiterole filled with panna cotta (bliss).

Then we wandered for a walk, finding that if one turned right rather than left down the street Vico Castro comes off (Via Austeri) around the corner is a full C13th castle. Built by Federick of Swabia (i.e. Federick II Stupor Mundi Hohenstaufen). Makes me happy. Took a walk through parts of centre of old city had not seen before. Clearly, the night club district. Sunday night appears t be the night out night. Even more police in evidence than normal. Then home.

In Malta, inter-racial couples seem to be no problem. Very much a country of small cars and aggressive drivers. The planners seem to be fond of roundabouts.

During WWII, Malta was the most bombed place on Earth; 35,000 homes were destroyed in a country with not a large population. Malta chose to rebuild as was, not modernist rubbish.

Lots of German tourists in Malta. English, Italian, French, German, Spanish, Danish, Japanese standard tourist languages.

Thursday, bought tickets for Gozo cruise that was then cancelled due to weather. So, took a harbour cruise: the sea was quite choppy outside harbour. Grand Harbour is spectacular. N complained about the wind chill factor. I lived in Canberra for 11 years, Mediterranean windchill just does not cut it.

We then had lunch at Kantina Cafe in St John's Square, Valletta (again, since the food had been so great Monday, when I had tagliatelle with Maltese sausage & goat's cheese). Second time around I had crab&lobster ravioli (what N had first time). We shared a jug of Sangria both times. N had a burger--heathen. I did manage to appall N, who had never come across a thick hot chocolate before--it was a proper one, the spoon did not move when you stuck it straight into it.

Then walked to both sets of bastion gardens overlooking Grand Harbour. More spectaclar views. Then took a bus to La Isla. Walked to point and then around to Birgu, where went enjoyed the Malta at War Museum. The excellent young guide made the point that Italian had been the language of education and law courts. Maltese was not a written language until the 1930s, when British suppressed Italian and promoted Maltese.

We walked up to edge of San Angelo and then along the foreshore. Took a bus back to Valetta. Had a drink in Cafe Contadini, established in 1837. Had dinner in a local haunt and pool hall, a set menu of spaghetti in rabbit sauce, three pieces of rabbit with salad and fries, hot drink and vanilla, strawberry or chocolate ice-cream. (N had vegetable soup and pork chop.) This local haunt being in a building with an 1874 plaque of a column and stonework heraldry which dates it back to the time of the knights. Then bus back to Sliema and hot chocolate on waterfront. Have been amused that the government buses have hammers all down each side with a sign "In case of emergency, use hammer to break glass".

Friday took Malta Sightseeing, hop on hop off bus to Tarxien. No signs at stop indicating directions, but a follow them technique led to signs and some of the oldest freestanding buildings ever discovered. Then back on bus to actual oldest buildings ever discovered. Was Malta really a pioneer? Or were other sites simply built over and lost? Continued nn tour around south sde of island. Passed St Gregory's, a medieval church which also functioned as watchtower and point of refuge. Has oldest dome designed by Maltese architects. Back to Sliema, pack up and final meal in Malta at Cafe Giorgio--fish platter for two. We also shared a wedge of a rich chocolate cake.

Malta does not believe in early breakfast--anything other than something light does not seem to be generally available before 9am.
English is the language of commerce, Maltese the language for official things (except when they are in English).
A very Maltese sound is the sound of church bells, which ring out regularly, day and night.
Not many Americans in evidence, lots of Brits.

Tuesday
Took a ferry to Valetta. I bought a t-shirt in flea market. We went to the Grandmaster's Palace (now Presidential Palace) to see the State rooms and the Armoury. The Grandmaster's throne room was very much decorated in "we won the Great Siege, boo sucks to you Turks/Muslims" style. The armoury had a very impressive collection of C16th and C17th armour and weapons. Then off to the Great Siege Experience, a rather fun serious of life size dioramas with audio commentary.
We had lunch at Cafe Carravagio, where the food was fine but not as spectacularly good as the previous lunch in St John's Square had been.
Then off to Tourist Information Office so we could find the Post Office. Followed by the Archaelogical Museum, which had a particularly good display on the Neolithic period. Followed by Hastings Gardens on the landward bastions. Malta under the Knights was described as the greatest fortification in Europe: so true.

This was followed by a fun conducted tour of a private Palazzo (Maltese stately home which is still a home) open to public, including the WWII bomb-shelter, built from the wells (really cistern) that it had been required to have be built under houses as Valletta was being built. The Palazzo has a garden-courtyard, which was against the original planning rules but the Italian Knight who built it must have the requisite influence. We took a water taxi back to Sliema.

Wednesday
Had Pages on my iPad freeze on me, but a quick Google found what to do, which worked.

Took hop-on, hop-off double-deck tour bus to Mdina, variously the Roman, Arab and medieval capital in the middle of the island. Now a walled medieval city with much Baroque construction after the 1697? earthquake.

While there, saw the Mdina Dungeon display, the Mdina Experience film, and the Medieval Experience display. We found a cafe (La Fontina) which turned out to have an upstairs area right on walls. Windiest cafe ever. Had a spectacular view across fields to the coast. Then saw the Knights of Malta display, wandered around before waiting a long time for a bus with spare seats. (Tip: take Malta Sightseeing not Citysightseeing--the latter are better at selling tickets than providing buses.) It was astonishing, how many passengers seem to think being asked for tickets was either a surprise or a semi-imposition. Taking the bus around the north of the island, got a sense of the island. We passed by St Paul's Bay--first time I had been to a place mentioned in the Bible (St Paul had been shipwrecked on Malta--then Melita--at, it is believed, what is now St Paul's Bay; an experience described in Acts).

Then back to Sliema, a fine meal at Cafe Sicilano, followed by a constitutional around Tigne Point (the last fort built by the Knights and the only one to offer resistance to Napoleon).

The Arabic influence on Maltese is fairly clear, as when the Virgin Mary is entitled Sultana tal Paci (Queen of Peace). Mary is omnipresent; one wonders how much she took over from sea and earth goddesses.

Malta is not pedestrian friendly, even in the service-vehicles-only parts, as Maltese drivers are a touch on the aggressive side.

Monday moring, went to Knights Hospitallier exhibition under the Sacre Infirmia (the famous Hospitaller hospital, now the Mediterranean Conference Centre). The exhibit made a big deal out of two year French occupation; the third major siege. It took remarkably little time for the forces of Revolutionary Enlightenment Virtue to enrage the Maltese into revolt. The French did not seem to understand that, to the Maltese, the treasures in Churches were their treasures and objected to these newly arrived foreigners looting them.

Then off to the War Museum; I thought it did a fine job of conveying Malta's experience of two World Wars. (Did you know the Imperial Japanese Navy had a force stationed in Malta in WWI or that both Rudolf Hess and Donitz were PoWs in Malta?) We went on to The Malta Experience film and gift shop. The film conveyed the history of Malta quite well--the island has the world's oldest free-standing stone buildings. Malta seems to wear its history lightly. Of course, in all three seiges, the people they identfy with won.

After trying to find an optician, because a scew fell out of my glasss, it was on to St John's co-catherdrzl. Baroque hideousness at its wost, though it did have two Caravaggios.

Then water taxi back to Sliema. Tried the local beer, Cisk. Low-taste lager. But the rabbit in garlic was great.