I didn’t go to Sicily in September to play golf. No one does.
I went to celebrate my wife’s birthday, which meant food (don’t miss the arancini!) and romance and shopping and gazing at the beautiful hills and mountains. Sicily is a throwback. No strip malls. Very little fast food. Think The Godfather, which was shot there in 1971 (and which we’ll get to later), and Michael Corleone, hiding out on the cobblestone streets with his bodyguards until it was safe for him to return to America.
And yet despite the island’s bounty of riches, I still found myself unable to fully resist the siren call of one of Sicily’s lesser-known offerings: its golf courses.
There are only three regulation courses in Sicily but they’re diverse and scenic enough to seize any golfer’s attention. The golf part of my trip began at the magnificent Verdura Resort, on the southern coast about two hours from Palermo. The property has two top-shelf Kyle Phillips courses: the West and East, as well as a nine-hole par-3; Phillips is known for, among other designs, his work at Kingsbarns Golf Links in St. Andrews and Yas Links in Abu Dhabi, site of an annual DP World Tour event.
I started on the West Course and quickly discovered that I didn’t bring my A game — or even my B or C game. Perhaps I was thinking too much about how abysmally my fellow Americans had performed the day before in the opening matches of the Ryder Cup. I so desperately wanted to show my playing partners, both congenial Italians, what Uncle Sam is capable of. Instead, I showed them niente. Nothing.
I could have easily blamed the conditions. It seemingly has not rained in this section of Sicily since Vito Corleone arrived at Ellis Island, so the fairways were thirsty.
Even so, I thoroughly enjoyed the West Course, especially the closing three holes along the Mediterranean, where the biggest challenge was focusing on my game instead of staring at the sea, and the world beyond.
The East Course, which I played the following day, also is long on views. It is impossible to go wrong . . . no matter how much your game may let you down.
The starter told me I would be blown away by the par-3 13th.
The starter was right.
The hole is short, a little over 100 meters (about 109 yards) — but every step from tee to green is breathtaking.
With the sea to the left, I thought immediately of the par-3 7th at Pebble Beach, a hole so close to my heart that I’ve mulled having my ashes spread there. A great spot to rest in peace, don’t you think?
Behind the tee on No. 13 stood a rock with a plaque:
This is a magical place. Sit down and look as far away as possible. You will see things in your life and you will be able to understand them.
I didn’t have time to park and ponder. I had a par to make. (Which — spoiler alert! — I didn’t.)
Two days later, I returned to the same spot without my clubs. I sat on a bench next to the rock for half an hour, maybe more. I hoped for a deeper understanding of life, its trials and triumphs, and it soon occurred to me how little time any of us ever really have to pause and reflect; the world moves too fast.
The next par to make.
The next project to finish.
The next photo to post.
From Verdura, I made a three-hour trek through the Sicilian countryside to the lovely Ill Piccolo Etna Golf Resort. Nestled in the hills close to Mt. Etna — I had never played close to an active volcano (excluding a couple friends of mine) — the course required extreme accuracy. Not my forte.
Yet, similar to Verdura, there are several memorable spots that encourage you to pause and soak it all in. Like No. 17, a narrow par-4 with Mt. Etna in the distance and little room for error. Think Harbour Town without the lighthouse.
Speaking of demanding precision, that sums up the drive I took the next day to the small town of Savoca, site of several Godfather scenes. The road was narrow and windy with more switchbacks than Lombard Street. The Italian drivers seemed unfazed, zipping down the hill at 40 or 50 miles an hour.
I was freaked out, going half that speed. My wife, too … happy birthday, dear!
Once we made it to town, I wondered if this was the understanding I had been seeking, something to do with the fragility of life and the adventures along the way, good and bad, you don’t see coming.
My wife I sat in Bar Vitelli, the café where Michael Corleone met the proud father of Apollonia, whom he would later marry. Photographs from the film were everywhere. So were tourists well versed in the setting’s place in cinematic history. We walked up the hill to the Church of San Nicolo, where Corleone’s wedding took place. The church felt more like a shrine to the movie that put this town on the map.
After a few days on the island, we headed to the mainland, to Venice and later Rome for more romance and museums.
At my wife’s urging, I left my clubs in Sicily (figuratively, anyway) and, yep, took the cannoli.
