Elle Dimora di Sicilia

There was a time when my holidays were less about where I wanted to go, and more about where everyone else wanted to go for a suntan. Friends dreamed of flying off to (ideally) Bali or (more likely) Benidorm to find that perfect spot on the beach and had no qualms about getting sand where one really shouldn’t. Personally, with a pallor the palest shade of porcelain and gingery hair inherited from my Irish father, I’d long since accepted that hot holidays just weren’t for me, lest I boil and burn. 

Then, for my 30th birthday, I visited northern Italy. The canals of Venice, the rolling hills of Tuscany — you know the drill. I was hooked and, surprisingly, felt right at home. I mean, even the alabaster curves of Botticelli's Venus have their place in the Uffizi. So, after ticking off most of the north, I thought: ‘What the heck — how different can the tip of the boot be?’ Turns out, pretty darn different.

Fast forward to Catania airport — one of Sicily’s main international landing spots — as my flight touches down. Mr Smith and I had plans to explore Unesco-listed towns such as Modica and Noto further down the coast, and so Sicily’s bustling port city seemed like an exciting place to start. I’ll admit, though, first impressions weren’t exactly fantastico.

The taxi from the airport took Mr Smith and I via a not-so-scenic route: industrial buildings, derelict factories with barbed-wire fences, and soot-stained houses. All this, set to the soundtrack of aggressive traffic and beaten-up old bangers — apparently road rage is something of a local pastime here. ‘Are we in the right place?’ I wondered.

But thrown out in one of Catania’s central squares, Piazza Stesicoro, I felt buoyed by the location. Incredibly central, overlooked by the neoclassical splendour of the San Biagio church — there’s even a subterranean Roman amphitheatre from the 2nd century AD right in the middle of it all. Solid start. 

Now to locate our hotel: the three-suite Elle Dimora Di Sicilia, which is hidden away within a mixed-use apartment building. For this reason, you might be confused when passing through the hostel-like entrance, before heading upstairs. 

When we eventually reach the fourth floor, we discover a lobby that’s a little cramped — after all, this space wasn’t intended as a hotel. What is nice about the concept of taking over an apartment floor and turning it into boutique accommodation, though, is the privacy and exclusivity this affords. With only three suites, each space has been painstakingly designed and renovated to provide luxuriously large bedrooms and bathrooms for its guests.

Thanks to the architecture of the centuries-old building, soaring ceilings and shuttered balconies (with views of the piazza) give the place good bones. But, it’s actually the unique use of modern decor combined with classical design references that makes Elle Dimora Di Sicilia visually stand out. In truth, there are probably other hotels in the city that offer an easier luxury, but if interior design is your passion, you’ll want to see this place.

We stepped into our room, which was called Anfiteatro, and were immediately calmed by the textured charcoal walls. A large bed, wrapped in four sashed posts of white Egyptian linen, sits centre stage, flanked by modern floor lamps. While the space exudes a great antiquity, the furnishings are sleek, considered and effortlessly cool. Whoever put this place together has innate style. Take the wardrobe, for example — its doors are adorned with giant, hand-painted wooden silhouettes of Roman soldiers. Sounds random? Somehow, it works — adding a theatrical, irreverent flair that plays brilliantly off the clean lines.

But, anyway, what I’m building up to is the bathroom. I deeply feel that a stand-out hotel bathroom is one of life’s unique pleasures and if we’re speaking of the unique, this one most certainly is. Large and lofty, the space’s purposeful sparseness creates a near museum-like quality, amplified by a candle-lit caryatid of the goddess Athena, who gazes serenely from the corner. I looked up whether Italians have their own version of ‘pièce de résistance’. Apparently, the closest they get is ‘il pezzo forte’, which means ‘the strong piece’ and refers to a wow-worthy feature. Well, the il pezzo forte here has to be the freestanding shower, positioned in the centre of the room on top of a decorative stone plate. I’m not too shy to tell you that I’ve never felt this dramatic while soaping up. 

This isn’t a fully fledged hotel — keep in mind that there’s no spa, in-house restaurant or communal lounge space to hang out in during the day. It’s more suited to travellers in search of their own private Sicilian pied-à-terre. There also aren’t many windows in some of the bedrooms, so it can be a little dark; and as your door is close to the main staircase, you’ll hear people coming and going. But, if it’s light you want, head upstairs to the rooftop, which is dotted with pastel parasols and trendy furniture, and has what may be the best view in the city. We spent our mornings up here with our first cappuccino of the day, plotting out the day’s adventure.

So, after 48 hours in her bosom — did I learn to love Catania? Honestly, it’s still not my favourite Italian city. But I’ve come to understand why people love it — not for its gloss, but for its grit. The hectic but wildly authentic morning fish market is a must, and at night the city truly comes alive, with bars spilling out into the streets.

Think of Catania like this: the entire city is built on the ruins of a volcanic disaster, its buildings carved from black molten rock. But locals are fiercely proud of that past. One told me, ‘Our motto is melior de cinere surgo — from the ruins, I emerge stronger.’ And if that’s not a reason to warm to a place, I don’t know what is.