'Twas a cool night, only 13C when we wake, but the sun rises brightly lighting the hills in a way we didn't see in yesterday's greyness.
As we are getting sorted to leave a few groups of powerful motorbikes blast past on the road behind us. Then a few sports cars and Ferarris pass by.
We use the service point and say goodbye to Giovanna and thank her for a wonderful stopover. As we drive away two Police bikes cruise past, then more Ferarris and it dawns on us this must be part of the Targa Florio which we thought we'd miss after leaving Palermo. We stop in a layby and watch 8 or 9 more and guess they are going to Segesta so we turn and backtrack a few miles. A couple more overtake us then as we approch Segeta's car park there are Ferarris and Alfa Romeos all along the roadside. We can't stop but we get a good look crawling past them.
It's only a short distance from here to the smooth, uncrowded motorway which takes us through much gentler, rural scenery; small olive and sheep farms, lemon groves and barley. There is still lots of yellow but now it's broom and gorse.
Reaching Trapani we find the streets are also quiet and wide and we easily find the mixed parking by the station where we have coffee. We notice 3 parking bays have broken glass beside them, not lamp glass from a bump but window glass, which may suggest break ins, so we drive down to the park4night location by the harbour and join 6 other vans there.
Trapani harbour has a fishing fleet, marina for pleasure craft and a ferry and hydrofoil terminal. An avenue of [possibly mulberry] trees leads into the historic centre. The wheelchair tyres squeak on the polished sandstone flags as we move from street to street. From the sea front there is a good view of the cathedral's green tiled dome, but inside the town we are too close to see it. Wrought iron balconies are hung with washing and sunshades, little cars are squeezed into tiny garages.
In the wider commercial streets, we look above the plate-glass windows and see beautiful baroque styling, columns, porticos and carvings of faces, plants, cherubs. The town gate is an arched clock tower, pink and grey stonework with two jade green clock faces. One is a normal clock, the other measures the lunar cycle. Another church has green, bronze gates cast with beatifully detailed reliefs.
We wander past the fish market, but being Sunday it is closed. Anyway, it's a semi circular set of arcades with a statue out front, which could easily pass for something like the loggia in Florence.
The sea is bright with dried seaweed piled along the shore as we walk the north side of town, to the hotel car park which also allows motorhomes, before returning to find a drink.
At a coffee and chocolate bar we order coffee and decide to try Sicily's famous cannolis. A cannoli is a fried pastry tube filled with sweetened ricotta. The size of a good courgette, they weigh about half a pound. As you bite into them the crisp pastry crumbles and the cream filling oozes everywhere. Even Sicilians haven't mastered eating them elegantly. If you remember licking out the bowl after your mum had iced the Christmas cake, try to imagine eating all the icing instead of the leftovers. They are delicious, put like the Prague tredlnick, one in a lifetime will do. The after effect feels like you've swallowed a solid sugar boxing glove!
Although it is sunny the wind funneling into the narrow streets is cold as we return to the the van, offer up a prayer for the lift and get back in the warm.
Early evening we spend watching boats and ferries moving around the harbour, and reading about places of interest for the next stage of our trip.
After a lovely sunset we manage a small dinner of chicken salad.