Page 475 - The Rough Guide of Sicily

Closer to North Africa than the Italian mainland, Sicily’s western reaches are
traditionally poor and remote, the economy dependent on fishing and small-scale
farming. Since the opening of the A29 autostrada in the 1970s, connecting it with
Palermo, the region has become more integrated with the rest of Sicily, but even

today, access by public transport is limited. Indeed, much of the appeal of the
area lies in the fact that it’s still very different from the rest of the island.
Historically, the region has always been distinct, influenced by a strong
Phoenician and Arab culture rather than the Greek and Norman traditions that

prevail elsewhere in Sicily. The Arab influence can still be tasted in its food –
couscous is a local favourite – and visually too, the flat land, dotted by white cubic
houses, is strongly reminiscent of North Africa.

On the northern coast, the Golfo di Castellammare is only an hour by train or road
from Palermo. Despite patches of industrial development along the gulf, it still

manages to offer some empty beaches and a couple of unspoiled villages at its western
end. In particular, the coastline between the old tuna-fishing village of Scopello and
the resort of San Vito Lo Capo encompasses the beautiful Zingaro nature reserve.
The capital of the province that encompasses this entire area, Trapani, is a congenial

port town within sight of the flat saltpans on which its wealth was based. It is also a
departure point for the Egadi Islands, and makes a good base for visiting the mountain
town of Erice – originally a centre of Punic influence, though diverging from the
region’s dominant trend in its uniform Norman and medieval character. The pattern re-
establishes itself a little way down the coast at Mozia, Sicily’s best-preserved
Phoenician site, while further south the Moorish imprint is discernible in the secretive

alleys and courtyards of Marsala and Mazara del Vallo.

Although the Greeks never wielded much influence in the area, the Hellenic remains
at Segesta and Selinunte (Selinus) count among the island’s most stunning. Between
the two, the Valle del Belice delineates the region struck by an earthquake in 1968,
which left a trail of destruction still visible in many towns and villages. This is most

notable at Gibellina, abandoned in its ruined state as a powerful reminder, and at the
little town of Santa Margherita di Belice, whose once-proud palace and church were
immortalized in that quintessential Sicilian novel, The Leopard. There could be no
greater contrast to this disorder than the peaceful island of Pantelleria, a distant

outpost just a short hop away from the African coast, mountainous and wind-blown,
and adopted as a chic resort by a few high-profile glitterati.