Ortigia Sicily was one of my favourite stops during my solo trip around the island. Many people visit for the day, but I’m glad I stayed longer. It gave me time to wander without much of a plan, get lost even though you can’t really get lost there, and settle into the slower pace of the island.
As a solo female traveller, I felt comfortable walking around on my own, even at dusk, passing nonnas sitting in their doorways and cats who were clearly well-fed, well-loved and fully in charge. It’s one of the things I miss most about Italy: greeting complete strangers with a buongiorno or buonasera and usually getting a warm smile in return.
It didn’t take long for me to fall in love with Ortigia.
Arriving in Ortigia: Sunshine, Stairs, and a Sea View
After a smooth one-and-a-half-hour train ride from Catania to Siracusa (Syracuse in English), I arrived still carrying some lingering travel nerves. Google said it was a 20-minute walk to my B&B, but I opted for a €30 taxi after a no-change hiccup with a driver who speak-ah no eeng-lish, which made things easier in the end.
Siracusa sits on Sicily’s eastern coast and is known for its ancient ruins and centuries of history. Ortigia is its historical heart, a small island connected to the mainland by a short bridge. It’s all cobblestone lanes, Baroque buildings and salty sea air, but without feeling like it’s trying too hard to charm you.
I added Ortigia to my itinerary after spotting it in Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny, and I’m glad I did. My B&B, Camere A’ Marina, sat on the top floor of a sea-facing building. As expected in Italy, it came with a side of cardio: no elevator, just winding stone stairs. Thankfully, the hotel caretaker materialised like a travel fairy and helped with my luggage.
When I finally went out to explore, Piazza Duomo took my breath away. The square is anchored by the Duomo di Siracusa, which was built around an ancient temple to Athena and later reconstructed after the earthquake of 1693. As the sun dipped, the limestone buildings turned gold. I stood there quietly for a while, already falling for the place.
Day 2: Market Mornings, Missed Architecture, and Ceramic Fish
The next morning started with a visit to the buzzing Ortigia market, alive with the sounds of shouting vendors, the scent of citrus and cheese, and locals on a mission. I had just one goal: Caseificio Borderi, the sandwich shop TikTok had collectively lost its mind over.
The queue was long but moved quickly. True to form, I panicked under pressure and pointed to the first thing on the menu I vaguely recognised. No regrets. It was delicious. I found a nearby bench and was soon joined by a cat with a suspicious limp. I’m almost certain it was faking an injury to get some of my sandwich. Naturally, I gave in.
Later that afternoon, I crossed the bridge back into mainland Siracusa. I’d noticed a strange pointed building on the skyline and wanted to see what it was. It turned out to be the Sanctuary Basilica of Our Lady of Tears, or Basilica Santuario Madonna delle Lacrime.
I made it more than halfway there before giving up. Reaching it required a big detour around a busy road, I was tired, and I assumed it would be closed for the afternoon anyway. Back at the hotel, I searched for it and realised it was exactly the kind of weird-meets-wonderful architecture my design-loving brain would’ve adored.
Big mistake. But, oh well…
With time to spare before dinner, I popped into Fish House Art, a ceramic shop filled with handmade pieces inspired by the sea. Fish, squid, coral, even sea urchins, all crafted with personality and charm. The place was run by an elderly man and his equally stoic cat, who sat by the counter like a shop assistant with an attitude of a teenager.
That evening, I met up with an Australian woman I’d befriended a few days earlier on my Valley of the Temples tour. We had dinner at Pizzeria Schiticchio and swapped travel stories over pizza. It was nice having company for the evening, especially in a place that was already beginning to feel a little like home.
Day 3: Archaeological Chaos, Thunderstorms, and a Very Wet Walk
The plan was simple: get my laundry done early, then head to the Archaeological Park of Neapolis (Parco Archeologico della Neapolis) to meet my friend from the night before. But as with most travel days, the laundry had other plans. My load took forever to dry, and I ended up running late.
By the time I reached the park, my friend had already gone in. I was especially excited to see the Ear of Dionysius because, yes, it also appeared in Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny. There’s something surreal about standing somewhere you’ve only seen on a cinema screen and half-expecting Harrison Ford to come around the corner.
Instead, I got a storm.
Barely fifteen minutes into exploring the park, the sky darkened and the wind came alive. Leaves whipped through the air, hats went flying, and people scattered in search of shelter. Then came the rain, not a drizzle, but the kind of downpour that felt like the sky had upended a giant pail over the entire city.
I followed a small group into a guardhouse. We were dripping wet but slightly less miserable, until a security guard stormed in and barked something in rapid-fire Italian. What followed was a full-blown, spit-flecked standoff between her and one of the visitors. And I do mean spit-flecked, I was standing between them, catching every syllable and a fair bit of the spray.
It was like being dropped into the middle of a live-action Sicilian soap opera. Arms were flailing, words were flying, and the drama was Oscar-worthy. I didn’t understand a single word, but the message was clear: leave. The tourist pleaded. The guard roared.
And just like that. End scene. The tourist backed down. The guard had won. I gave them both a respectful distance as I slipped back out into what was now, thankfully, a drizzle, feeling like I’d just survived a very damp, very dramatic masterclass in Sicilian confrontation.
The storm had eased into a moody drizzle. I remembered a sheltered spot near the entrance and made my way there. My friend was already waiting, just as drenched and windblown as I was. We waited out the worst of it together before she headed back to Catania.
I, stubborn as ever, went back in to finish the circuit. The rain returned. I tried booking an Uber, but after half an hour in soaked jeans and a dripping ponytail, I gave up. Thank God for my $60 Shein trench coat, it kept my top dry. Who needs Burberry when your budget coat shows up and performs in a storm?
I walked all the way back to Ortigia, passing fallen branches, cracked boat masts and a half-sunken pier. The sky remained grey and sulky, and the streets were eerily quiet. When I finally reached my room, I discovered that the storm had ripped the shutters off my tiny balcony. I messaged my host, who sent someone over to clear the damage. Then I peeled off my soaked clothes and took the hottest shower of my life.
It was only 3.30 p.m.
That evening, despite the rain, I ventured out again, wrapped in layers and optimism. The wet streets shimmered beneath the lights, and I found myself thinking that rain makes even empty streets look like paintings.
I ended up at Zenzero, a tiny vegan restaurant run by an elderly couple. I was their only customer. The food was warm, simple, and comforting, exactly what I needed. After dinner, I wandered a little more before heading back to my room, crawled under the covers and eyed the now-shutterless window, which rattled menacingly every time the wind picked up. Just in case, I wedged a chair in front of it like I was bracing for a ghost or a cartoon burglar. It didn’t budge. Crisis averted. I drifted off to the sound of wind whistling through the cracks, equal parts eerie and oddly comforting.
Day 4: Ragusa, Modica and Noto in the Rain
I woke to the familiar sound of wind curling around the window. The rain still hadn’t stopped. By then, I’d accepted that the rest of my Sicilian trip would be wrapped in various shades of grey.
I’d booked a transport-only tour of Ragusa, Modica and Noto the day before. It was one of those convenient arrangements where a driver drops you in each town for a couple of hours and then picks you up again. There was no guide and no group itinerary once we arrived, just the transport and plenty of free time. Perfect.
Our driver was a handsome man in a perfectly tailored suit. He greeted us with a polite nod and very little fanfare, as though it were entirely normal to look like a wedding guest while driving three rain-drenched women around southeastern Sicily.
The other passengers were two older Italian ladies who didn’t speak any English. We communicated through smiles, gestures and the occasional shared sigh about the weather. I kept hoping the skies would brighten.
They didn’t.
Ragusa: Empty Streets and Racing Raindrops
Our first stop was Ragusa Ibla, the historical heart of the town. We arrived early, before most cafés and shops had even considered opening. The streets were quiet and dripping, with the kind of stillness you only get when everyone sensible has stayed indoors.
I wandered through alleys framed by pale stone buildings while my umbrella fought for its life in the wind. The cobblestones were slick, and the uphill walk to the viewpoint was somewhere between a workout and the beginning of a slapstick routine.
But I made it, and it was worth it.
From above, Ragusa looked as though someone had tipped over a box of cream-coloured Lego and let it tumble down the hillside. The houses were stacked on top of one another in that impossibly Italian way, layered, uneven and slightly chaotic. Fog clung to the valley, softening the outlines and turning the entire view into a watercolour blur.
To thaw out my fingers and escape the winter rain, the cold cold kind that soaks through your sleeves, I ducked into a small gift shop. I bought a souvenir I didn’t really need, just to say I did. I couldn’t stay long, but I got the photographs I wanted before heading back to meet the driver, my toes already aching from the cold.
Modica: A Scenic Train Ride and Life-Changing Scacce
We drove on to Modica, famous for its chocolate. Given the relentless rain, however, the ladies and I silently agreed we weren’t walking very far. They pointed excitedly towards a little tourist train waiting by the road. I nodded, followed them aboard and settled in for a bumpy, misty ride through the city.keep the sc
The little train chugged up and down steep, twisting streets, windows rattling, brakes squealing, and all of us lurching gently around corners. It had panoramic roof windows, which in theory offered a wonderful all-around view except it was raining, and everything was steamed up and blurry. I could sense Modica’s beauty more than I could actually see it.
At one point, we stopped at a higher lookout with another view of the houses spilling down the hillside. I scrambled to take a few photos, but they were all terrible. Between the fog, rain and train window, I couldn’t get a single decent shot. One had the corner of the window and half my reflection in it, while the rest were mostly a blurry mess.
Eventually, the train dropped us at a quiet square, where we found shelter beneath the bright red awning of Piccolo Bar. The ladies pointed towards the counter, and I copied their order. What arrived was a golden folded flatbread called scacce ragusane. One bite in, and I nearly sighed aloud. It was warm, cheesy and layered with tomato, like a folded lasagne.
I debated getting a second, but the queue had grown and our driver, still looking like a GQ shoot on wheels, was already waving us over. I left with nothing but the memory of that glorious flatbread and a strong craving for one more bite of something I might never find again.
You have no idea how often I’ve searched for scacce since then, whenever a new Italian restaurant opens in Singapore or whenever I travel. I miss it so much it could make a great Craigslist missed connections ad: You were a folded lasagne beneath a red awning in Modica. I was the rain-soaked tourist who should’ve ordered a second one.
Noto: Fading Light, Tea for Warmth, and a Sweet Pause
By the time we arrived in Noto, the rain had taken a short break. The skies even brightened a little, and for a moment I thought the sun might actually come out.
We hoped to take another little tourist train, but it had already shut down for the day. It was probably tired, like the rest of us. So I wandered along the main street on foot, surrounded by honey-coloured Baroque buildings glowing softly in the late-afternoon damp.
As I passed Noto Cathedral (Cattedrale di Noto), I looked up and spotted a rainbow. Just a faint arch stretching over the rooftops. I stopped and quickly took a photograph. It wasn’t dramatic, but it was quietly perfect, one of those fleeting travel moments that feels like a sign from the universe of good things to come.
The rain had left everything looking freshly washed. Even in winter, Noto had a golden warmth to it, like the kind of city where you half-expect background music to begin playing as you walk.
I tried to find a decent viewpoint but didn’t have much luck, so I browsed a few shops instead, looking for a souvenir to justify the stop. The drizzle eventually returned, soft and steady and not particularly motivated, but enough to push me indoors again.
I ducked into Caffè Sicilia, known for its pastries, and ordered a warm cup of tea. It would’ve felt criminal not to get a pastry too. I can’t tell you what it was. Something almondy, possibly citrusy. At the time of writing this, I had already forgot.
The café was dry, warm, and just indulgent enough, a sweet little exhale after a day of layered towns, blurry windows, and one unforgettable flatbread.
Back in Ortigia: Pizza, Packing, and One Last Night
We returned to Ortigia in the early evening. The sky was already dark, the air was still damp and the streets were quiet again. I wandered for a while, not really to explore, but just to take it all in one last time.
Eventually, I went to Pizzeria da Mario, a humble takeaway spot just a short walk from my building. For €7, I got an entire pizza! Still hot in its box by the time I made it back to my room.
I ate it in bed with my legs tucked beneath the covers while the last of my damp clothes dried beside the heater. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was perfect. After several days of movement, misadventures and moisture, I was warm, fed and still completely enchanted by Ortigia.
Before going to sleep, I stepped out onto the balcony for one last look at the sea. The waves were barely visible in the dark, but I could hear them. I stood there listening for a while before reluctantly going back inside.
The next morning, I took a short ride to the bus station. As we left the island, Ortigia slipped past the window in fragments: stone buildings, narrow alleys and a flash of sea. It had all become familiar by then, and I felt a small pang of sadness watching it disappear.
I was now heading west, leaving Sicily’s eastern coast behind and crossing the island toward Palermo. But part of me was still very much on that little island, watching cats sun themselves on warm stone and listening to the waves.
Why I Fell in Love with Ortigia Sicily
Ortigia ended up being the most restful part of my Sicilian trip, although mostly because the weather gave me no choice. The storms, downpours and endless drizzle forced me to slow down, stay indoors more often and swap ambitious plans for quiet walks and hot meals. Honestly, I didn’t mind.
It was also one of the most chaotic parts of the trip because, of course, the biggest storm had to happen in the room with the most fragile balcony shutters. But even when I was soaked through and windblown, I still found myself smiling.
I loved the quiet mornings, the sea outside my window and the winding stone lanes. I loved the smaller details too: ceramic fish in a shop window, golden light falling across the cathedral and a cat pretending to limp for a bite of my sandwich.
By the time I left for Palermo, I wasn’t quite ready to leave Ortigia Sicily and its slower pace behind. I suspect that’s why the place stayed with me. It never asked me to fall in love with it. I just did.
Continue reading: Winter in Palermo – A Travel Story of Rain and Resilience
Plan Your Own Trip to Ortigia, Sicily
Visit
- Piazza Duomo and the Cathedral of Syracuse (Duomo di Siracusa): A grand Baroque square surrounding a cathedral built around an ancient Greek temple. It’s especially beautiful at golden hour.Fonte Aretusa: A freshwater spring beside the sea, surrounded by Greek mythology. Worth walking past even if you’re not particularly interested in nymphs.Ortigia Market: Fresh produce, lively vendors and the famous sandwich shop you’ve probably seen on TikTok.Lungomare Alfeo: A coastal promenade lined with bars. Come for an Aperol Spritz and stay for the sunset.Archaeological Park of Neapolis (Parco Archeologico della Neapolis): Located in mainland Siracusa and home to the Ear of Dionysius, along with some cinematic Indiana Jones energy.Sanctuary Basilica of Our Lady of Tears (Basilica Santuario Madonna delle Lacrime): Also in mainland Siracusa. It’s a strange and striking modern church that I wish I’d gone inside. I didn’t.
- Take a boat tour: Best during the warmer months, unlike my rainy winter visit. Tours often circle the island and explore the caves and coastline, giving you a different view of Ortigia from the sea.
Shop
- Fish House Art: A small ceramic shop filled with marine-inspired pieces, run by an elderly man and his cat.
- TAMI’ Concept Store: Good for postcards and tasteful souvenirs.
- Good Vibes Ortigia: Fashion accessories, plus the possibility of meeting the resident cat at the door.
- Flying Tiger Copenhagen: Useful for emergency duct tape, cute finds or browsing as though you’re in Daiso.
Eat
- Caseificio Borderi: The famous sandwich shop inside Ortigia Market. Whether it lives up to the TikTok hype is for you to decide.
- Zenzero: A cosy vegan restaurant run by an elderly couple. Especially comforting on a rainy night and perfectly comfortable for solo diners.
- Pizzeria Schiticchio: A relaxed pizza place for dinner with new friends.
- Pizzeria da Mario: An entire pizza for €7. Yes, please.
- Piccolo Bar, Modica: Please eat all the scacce ragusane for me.
- Caffè Sicilia, Noto: Known for its pastries and well worth the sugar.
Stay
- Camere A’ Marina: The little B&B I stayed and would’ve stay forever if I could. Sea view, steep stairs, no regrets.
Getting There & Around
- Arrival: Take the train from Catania to Syracuse (Siracusa) – about 1.5 hours. From there, Ortigia is a 20-minute walk or a short taxi ride.
- Getting Around: Walk. Ortigia is compact, mostly flat, and full of small discoveries.
- Day Trips: If you want to visit Ragusa, Modica and Noto in one day, consider a transport service such as Sicily In Travel. It saves you from dealing with several transfers and the risk of getting very charmingly lost.
Keep Exploring Sicily
If you enjoyed this story, you might also like:
- Taormina in Winter: A Solo Traveler’s Peaceful Escape
- New Year in Catania – My Winter Trip to Sicily’s Black City
- Winter in Palermo – A Travel Story of Rain and Resilience
Along the way, I also squeezed in side trips to Savoca, Mount Etna, Cefalù and the Valley of the Temples. Each showed me a completely different side of Sicily.