The corso at seven in the evening
That's when the sun cuts across the street and the stone turns orange. It lasts twenty minutes, then it's gone. Don't be somewhere else.
Via Cavour runs parallel to the corso, one block up. You're inside everything and out of the noise: you walk everywhere, and at night you come home without touching the car.
Where we are
Via Cavour runs parallel to the corso, one block up. You're inside everything and out of the noise: you walk everywhere, and at night you come home without touching the car.
Demonstration imageThe right hour
In Sicily it is not only where you go: it is what time you get there. These are ours.
That's when the sun cuts across the street and the stone turns orange. It lasts twenty minutes, then it's gone. Don't be somewhere else.
San Carlo's, three euros and a narrow staircase. From up there you understand how Noto is made: all the same stone, all the same century.
The balconies with their monsters, horses and mermaids are the most photographed thing in town. Inside, the ballroom with its frescoed ceiling is worth the ticket.
Three hundred metres down to the pools, and then back up. Leave at seven, take water and proper shoes. It closes in August for fire risk — ask us first.
Via Nicolaci carpeted in flower petals for three days. Beautiful and packed: book months ahead, or come on the Monday when the children are let loose on it.
Nero d'Avola and Moscato di Noto, a quarter of an hour away. Two or three receive by appointment and pour serious things: we'll book for you.
What doesn't go to a platform stays in the price you pay — and you get the restricted-zone permit either way.