Sicily and cars – a combo that promises adventure. When we rented the tiniest Fiat Panda on the island, we had no idea we were signing up for a nerve-wracking, logic-defying test of patience. Today’s destination? Erice Trapani – a medieval hilltop town where the wind never rests and history blends with legend.
The Road to Erice
The GPS offered us three routes. We chose the shortest one. Mistake? Within minutes, we found ourselves in alleyways as narrow as a Sicilian dialect, where side mirrors survived by sheer luck. When the GPS said, “Continue straight,” it pointed to a path as steep as a stone wall. Sicily was clearly playing its own game.
100 Curves, 2 Heart Attacks, and One Stubborn Goat
We passed a few “Do Not Enter” signs – not sure if they applied to us, especially since a fully loaded truck zoomed past without a care. At one point, our path was blocked by a particularly bold goat. After 45 minutes of anxious braking, revving in first and second gear (we never made it to third), cursing, pleading with reason, and several stops due to road collapses, we finally reached a tiny dirt parking lot about 100 meters below the cable car station.
Erice greeted us with cold air, mist, and an atmosphere straight out of a Game of Thrones set.
Erice
Sitting at 750 meters above sea level on Mount Erice, this town is where history meets the wind. Erice has ancient roots – back in the 8th century BC, the Elymians, one of Sicily’s earliest civilizations, built a temple here to the goddess of fertility and love, later associated with Venus by the Romans. The temple stood where the Castello di Venere now rises, offering breathtaking views of the coastline. Legend has it an eternal flame once burned here, guiding ships like a mythical lighthouse.
In medieval times, Erice became an unbreachable Norman fortress. The narrow cobbled streets and towering walls still echo the days of knights and battles. These days, the town is more peaceful – even a bit mysterious, especially if you wander off the main tourist track.
Dress warmly. While it might be scorching down in Trapani, Erice can be 10 degrees cooler with a wind that howls like an immortal ghost through the streets.
Life on the Hill: Where Do the Locals Go in Winter?
Erice officially has around 500 residents, but in winter it becomes a ghost town. Most locals live in Trapani and only return for tourist season. Many houses are centuries old, made of stone, with windows so tiny you wonder how anyone ever lived inside.
One of Erice’s lesser-known treasures is the almond pastry called genovesi – a dome-shaped treat filled with creamy custard. It may look innocent, but one bite and you’ll want to adopt it forever. It’s best enjoyed at the legendary Maria Grammatico pastry shop. Maria grew up in a convent, where she secretly learned the secrets of medieval pastry-making. When she left, she opened her own shop – now synonymous with the island’s finest sweets.
The Way Back: Italians Don’t Brake – They Just Honk
The descent was faster and far safer. We didn’t dare take the same road back – our old Panda’s brakes might not have survived. Luckily, near the cable car station, we found the main (and much more comfortable) route. It was 8 kilometers longer but a paradise compared to the madness we endured earlier.
Italian drivers follow one golden rule: if you honk loud enough, the corners disappear. We didn’t take that risk – and lived to tell the tale back in Trapani.
Trapani
Back in Trapani, we treated ourselves to couscous alla trapanese – the local twist on couscous, served with fish broth. It tasted so good we nearly forgot we’d just lost five years of our lives on that road.
Trapani is a sicilian town where everything runs on a schedule best described as “later is fine.” The morning starts at ten, lunch stretches into the evening, and if something doesn’t happen today, tomorrow’s always better. We wandered through the main streets and along the seaside promenade – and suddenly, it was evening. After a short stroll by the sea, we gathered the courage to hit the road again.
Erice Trapani
If you want to see Erice, you can take the cable car. But where’s the fun in that? The real adventure is the hellish ride up the shortest road – if your nerves can take it.
