Steam, Stone & Stillness in Sicily
From the power of Mount Etna to the peace of Modica.
#26
More movement. More magic. Another new bed, and more angels along the path.
Our final days in Letojanni brought divine, golden weather, and a day trip to the famed Mount Etna.
Standing at nearly 11,000 feet, it’s the tallest active volcano in Europe and only an hour and a half from where we were staying. I’d been excited to see this natural wonder (and UNESCO World Heritage site), and it did not disappoint. Etna is continuously active, reshaping itself through layers of lava, ash, and rock — always shifting, always alive.
That morning, we set off from our apartment to meet the tour bus. The directions weren’t entirely clear, so we ended up walking up a massive hill… only to learn the bus was waiting for us at the bottom. We laughed it off and decided it just meant we’d earned our seats for the 90-minute ride.
Tim was the only man on our eight-person journey — another smile — and when we arrived at the mountain, we had some free time before the guided tour began. Steam rose from the earth just a few hundred yards away. The ground crackled with energy. For three hours, we explored Etna’s craters, winding trails, and the site of the 2002 eruption — a landscape equal parts power and peace.
The next day was slower: sand, sea, and sun. Then we picked up a rental car in Taormina and drove two hours south to our next destination: a family-owned agriturismo near Modica.
Similar to our stay in Tuscany, this property has been in the same family for more than 300 years. It’s now managed by their son, Nanni, who greeted us warmly when we arrived. For the first couple of nights, two families shared the grounds, but now… everyone is gone. Suddenly, we have the entire place — olive trees, pool, orange groves, and all — to ourselves. The last guests of the season.
How magical is that?
I’ve posted a video walking the grounds so you can see it, too — the light, the old stone walls, the quiet beauty of Sicily’s countryside. I realized as we drove in that the soil here is so rocky, farmers long ago had to find somewhere to put the stones they unearthed. So they built with them — creating miles of beautiful walls that now define the landscape. Simply incredible.
We’ve taken two day trips nearby — one to Pozzallo for groceries and lunch, and one to Modica, a 2,000-year-old town with steep cobblestone streets and golden walls that glow at sunset.
There, we met an angel in human form: an 80-year-old man named Rafaello Colombo. When we couldn’t find an open restaurant, he appeared out of nowhere, chatting in rapid Italian (of which I understood maybe 15%), and insisted on walking us to a hidden spot still serving lunch. Along the way, he proudly showed us his step count — over 12,000 for the day — and joked that he was a descendant of Christopher Columbus. He left us with a huge smile, a wave, and a story we’ll never forget.
At lunch, over homemade arancini and locally raised pork, we struck up a conversation with two more locals, who invited us to visit Modica’s famous chocolate factory before we leave. (I’ll let you know next week how that goes!) It’s this kind of everyday connection, strangers turned teachers, that makes slow travel so alive.
One morning, we sat talking with Nanni about life in Sicily. He shared how, back in the 1990s, a quiet agreement between the government and La Cosa Nostra ended decades of open violence. The guns disappeared, but the influence stayed — now showing up through taxes, political power and gambling instead. A reminder that transformation, even at a national level, is often imperfect but necessary.
We’ve taken a sea day as well, walking the near-empty beach, where the sand was soft, the water warm, and the world quiet. November here feels like a pause between seasons: the tourists gone, the beach bars dismantled, a stillness settling in.
Our room is spacious and peaceful, the bed the most comfortable yet (always worth celebrating on the road!), and the pool still warm enough for Tim to swim.
In a few days, we’ll say goodbye to Italy for now and fly to Athens — the start of six weeks island-hopping across Greece. It’s been a puzzle piecing together ferries as the schedules only came out 10 days ago, but everything’s finally fallen into place. Just a couple more car rentals to book and we’re set there.
So I’m letting go of what’s still unanswered. Trusting that it’s all unfolding in perfect time.
Here’s to a magical week for you, too — one filled with grace, ease, and angels along your path.
To your highest and best,
Dianna
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