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Our first day’s holiday was eventful for many reasons, forgotten credit cards, misplaced passports, rain and fog to name just a few aspects of an adventurous start to our travels. However the main theme of our first day’s experience, more Manijeh’s than mine perhaps, was driving.

It all began when, as is mystifyingly always the case with every car rental company, Targarent told us they didn’t have the 2-door automatic car that we ordered, so would we mind a free upgrade to a 4-door compact manual. Though not enamoured with the change in plan we were not in the mood for protracted negotiations after witnessing an unfortunate couple disputing the damage on their returned vehicle.

Despite Taormina, the town in which we would be staying, being closer to the Catania airport on the east coast of the island, we flew into Palermo as it was cheaper and direct, albeit over three hours drive away. The directions seemed fairly straightforward and we set off from the airport relatively unfazed by the disrepute of Italian driving skills we had come to hear of.

The plan, as it stood, was that Manijeh would start off at the wheel given her vastly superior experience of right-sided driving and I would at some stage take over during a later excursion. It wasn’t long before we discovered the tell-tale signs of the Italian’s infamous driving habits. Apparently white lines on the road meant little in the way of lane definition as cars drifted between them like water cascading down a cliff-face. It appeared to the untrained eye, that either most Italian cars lacked indicator levers or the drivers forgot they had fingers. When a rare yellow light did flash it seemed the associated ticking noise was so unfamiliar to its user that it was left blinking meaninglessly for an extended period.

Nevertheless, Manijeh had become accustomed to the high seat position of our Compact and eventually the somewhat organic driving style of the locals by the time we were cruising through and the numerous tunnels and impressive bridges that meander through the Sicilian landscape. Nearing the halfway point of our journey I spotted an unusual outcrop of structures sat atop a distant peak that looked truly insensible for everyday living.

Not long after this we decided to pull over for a pizza in a little place marked on the map called Enna. The place itself was regarded barely worthy of a visit according to our guide book, but a certain Pizzeria named Tiffany’s was regarded the best in town and that was music to our growling stomachs’ ears’. Although the poor weather that had welcomed us to Sicily had thus far proved disappointing, it wasn’t until we exited the freeway for Enna that we truly realised the meaning of low fog. Steep and narrow lanes wound their way up a mountainside that was almost completely obscured by an eerie white mist. This was all prior to the epiphany I had as we arrived in Enna which was none other than the impractically located cluster of buildings I had earlier observed from the freeway. Irony indeed, but at least we accidentally found Tiffany’s and left the barely visible town satisfied.

Thus far the driving had been “interesting”, but there was more to come. Some five hours after departing Palermo we entered Taormina. It’s bay and views quite reminiscent of Haifa in Israel, but there was little time to appreciate it as Manijeh desperately tried to negotiate streets that were clearly better suited to the many Scooters that scurried around them. Finding our accommodation was one thing, but locating a parking space was something else altogether. Moving a vehicle through the tiny shop-lined streets littered with tourists was worse than threading a needle with a copiously frayed piece of string. Quite how Manijeh avoided ill-placed street signs and obstinate pedestrians I’ll never know. What I do know is that I’m just glad we and “they” all lived to tell the tale, though I’m not sure who “they’ll” be telling.

Anyway, suffice to say we did park our car eventually, albeit about twenty minutes walk uphill from our apartment. A small sacrifice compared to the racing-heart inducement of the Taormina streets.