Commune of Cefalù a.k.a Cephaloedium

In the grand tapestry of Italian municipalities, each bearing the mantle of a commune, Cefalù emerges as a gem – not the grandest nor the most diminutive, yet an indisputable frontrunner in tourist density per square meter. It proudly stands among the premier coastal resorts on the island, securing its spot on the coveted list of Italy’s most exquisite small towns.

A deliberate pause in our maritime sojourn brings us to this idyllic haven, offering respite after arduous passages. From my vantage point, the breath was already seized long before our arrival. The day unfolded with serene seas, clement weather, and the delightful accompaniment of dolphins throughout our maritime traverse.

Our anchor finds its home just off the central city beach, swift changes are made, and the remarkable electric motor, rejuvenated by solar panels, adorns our dinghy. Thus, our exploration of the city commences, a race against time to capture its essence before the sun bids adieu.

Sunset from the city waterfront.
We managed it. Excellent sunset!
The cathedral square is buzzing like a beehive. Restaurants are setting up tables, preparing for dinner.
Standard set of Sicilian souvenirs. But the seller – not standard, four-legged, but very cute and friendly.
The alley passes under the house, that’s normal.
On the balconies, laundry is drying. In the center of the street, there are flowerpots with flowers.
And cats are everywhere. This is their town.
The windows are wide open, no secrets at all.
Every house is a landmark. Some are under UNESCO protection.
The main street of the city. As darkness falls, life is just beginning.
The patron saint of the commune – the Immaculate Virgin. This is how she walks through the streets of the city every day.

Cefalù, with its tranquility, serenity, and peace, seemingly eternal, appears untouched by the tumultuous annals of a hundred or a thousand years ago. No epic battles, encounters with mythical creatures—such fervors have never stirred the residents since its founding in the 5th century BCE, and such passions elude them to this day. Their pursuits are divergent, entwined with the ebb and flow of tourists – the lifeblood of the city. Restaurants, cafes, ice cream parlors, bakeries, myriad shops, the cathedral, and the central square all stand as tributes to the art of serving the tourist populace. Dinner options abound, overwhelming yet tempting our appetites, prompting us to decide on our gastronomic haven for the evening.

Our choice falls upon a restaurant bearing the appetizing moniker, B.I.F. BRACERIA ITALIANA FUORIMONDO. A facade and name that whisper promises of carnivorous delights!

Goods are not mere decor but the visage of the establishment – a refrigerated chamber, its door transparent. Handpick your preference, and the chosen piece shall be prepared with utmost finesse.
Embarking on a gastronomic adventure, I explore Tartare, a dish crafted from finely chopped raw meat. A culinary virgin to this delicacy, my companions predict a sensory delight. Licking my fingers may be an exaggeration, but the truth lies in the tasting.
The sommelier extends an invitation to peruse his vinous sanctum, inquiring about our dinner choices and adeptly recommending wines harmonizing with our selections.
Naturally, the wine hails from local vineyards nestled on the fertile slopes of Mount Etna.

The culmination proves superb, fostering a desire to revisit this culinary haven perpetually.

Yet, shocks abound in the city’s annals! Foremost among them, the mid-1980s witnessed the filming of Giuseppe Tornatore’s masterpiece ‘Cinema Paradiso.’ A narrative preceded by the construction of the Catholic cathedral by the Normans in the 12th century. Beyond these events, an air of calm and tranquility reigns, much like the present day.

Come the morrow, a collective decision to return to the city is made. A pilgrimage to the apex of Mount La Rocca, housing the vestiges of an ancient Saracen castle, beckons. Breakfast at a local café precedes our anchor weighing. Decisions affirmed, health robust, spirits undaunted—280 meters, a breeze, a farewell to breakfast, onward we sail, buoyed by unwavering cheer!

Health is fine, thanks to the cheer,
280 meters, no strain, oh dear!
Breakfast time, let’s disappear,
Off we go, with spirits clear!