The arancino came first, warm and soft from a supermarket rosticceria. Spinach, rice, mozzarella – all eaten standing up, half out of hunger and half out of curiosity. It was the sort of snack that tastes like Sicily itself, simple but insistent. Then we drove toward Ragusa Ibla, the older half of a city that still feels like it is negotiating its own history.
Ragusa is divided into two halves for a reason. After the earthquake of 1693 flattened much of southeastern Sicily, survivors rebuilt in different places. Some climbed to what is now Ragusa Superiore, while others reconstructed the old town below. Today the city looks cohesive, but walking the narrow streets of Ibla, the tension between the two halves is palpable. Baroque facades lean and protrude, balconies catch the sun at odd angles, and the streets twist as though unwilling to yield entirely to a single vision.
The Cathedral of San Giorgio dominates the Piazza del Duomo, but it is not placed at its geometric centre. The dome peeks from behind the bell tower deliberately, a small architectural trick that rewards attention. Many travelers pass it without noticing, yet once observed, the effect lingers in memory. Across the piazza, cafés and small shops invite pause. Walking here is a mix of sightseeing and maneuvering through uneven stone steps, so comfortable shoes and a light pace are recommended.
The Giardino Ibleo sits at the edge of the old quarter, dating from 1858. The grounds are well maintained and dogs on leads are welcome, which matters if you are travelling with pets. We spent the previous evening parked nearby with fellow travelers, swapping stories until midnight, discovering connections in the most improbable ways. The ritual of goodbyes, the exchange of local knowledge, and even a shared laugh made Ragusa feel immediately lived-in.
The Ruin You Probably Won’t Visit
Fornace Penna lies just outside the old town, down a track that seems trivial on a map until you see it in person. Built between 1909 and 1912 for the Penna family, the brick kiln now leans and crumbles. Its scale surprises first, then the details of the stonework, which seem carefully chaotic. A young man emerged carrying fresh asparagus and described a network of underground tunnels beneath the site, now unsafe. There may once have been a railway siding for loading goods, though nothing remains. The ruin rewards curiosity but requires caution. Sturdy shoes and attention are essential, and even a brief visit leaves a sense of quiet awe.
Swimming in November
Marina di Modica is a different kind of discovery. It is not featured in brochures, but it offers dunes, crystal-clear water, and low-rise houses arranged for optimal sea views. In November, sunlight angles unusually, warm enough to tempt a swim. The Mediterranean then is not tropical, but it is surprising – warm enough to dive in impulsively, as we did. Shore access is straightforward, though the rocks and caves along the coastline suggest careful footing. Prefabricated homes are scattered across the dunes, and a camper perched above a small cave adds to the casual, lived-in feeling of the place.
Lunch is best in the shade after swimming, with time to watch the subtle shifts in light across the coastline. Morning walks along the beach or shallow swims provide unexpected warmth in the late autumn months. Saying goodbye to fellow travelers in the car park the next day becomes a small ritual. Homemade pasta sauce and local tips pass between strangers, a reminder that travel often extends beyond the geography itself.
Chocolate, Stairs, and a Fiat 127
Modica rises steeply from the valley floor. The city is divided into Modica Bassa and Modica Alta, linked by staircases that challenge even the fit and determined. The vertical layout means walking is unavoidable. Garages are carved into stone, roofed for smaller cars, and many buildings lean directly against the mountain, their walls literally part of the rock. Take water and allow time for climbing. From the top, the density of buildings, stacked at impossible angles, evokes Matera in miniature.
Modica chocolate deserves its reputation. Cold-processed, without milk, butter, or oil, the sugar remains granulated, lending a grainy texture that melts in the mouth. We sampled chilli, pistachio, citrus oils, and a variety paired with Nero d’Avola. The salted chocolate, awarded at Vinitaly, was particularly memorable, though we left with only a bar and a spice mix. The tasting is small, hands-on, and immediate. Shops are open most days, but Sundays can require luck for parking.
At the top, a Fiat 127 circled the piazza, towing a gelato cart, a reminder that everyday life continues amidst the historical sweep. Walking down, the city offers new angles with each step. Observations accumulate naturally – tilted rooftops, unexpected views, the way shadows shift along the steps. Sicily in November is quiet, tangible, and full of minor, persistent surprises.
