Sicily still attracts a large number of travelers, but most of these follow traditional trails—some come for the faded splendor of its classical ruins and some for the beaches, while many Italian Americans come in search of their roots in the small mountain towns. Ortygia, the ancient part of Syracuse where Greek settlers landed in the eighth century B.C. and where the original port was built, has a laissez-faire attitude and sites mostly ignored by mainstream visitors. But it's one of the island's most beautiful and historically significant cities. Dilapidated waterfront buildings and roads lead to a series of piazzas, at the center of which is the Piazza del Duomo, the main square, with its Baroque cathedral built on the ruins of an ancient Greek temple to Athena. As the night wears on, locals pour into its cafés and restaurants.

Just outside Syracuse is an archaeological park and the Latomia del Paradiso (Garden of Paradise), a wild expanse of magnolia and citrus trees, as well as a theater built in the fifth century B.C. These sites and the city's proximity to towns like Noto and Modica and the beaches along the coast were just part of the appeal for Emanuela Marino, a thirty-six-year-old native of Syracuse, and Gareth Shaughnessy, her Irish partner, whom she met while working at a Japanese corporation in London.

They both knew that they didn't want to remain in northern Europe and so grabbed the chance to restore Emanuela's family farm. "There was a huge opportunity to offer a different kind of service in Syracuse," she says. The painstakingly renovated Caol Ishka, a ten-room hotel on the banks of the Anapo River, is the result of their efforts. Rooms are modern and unfussy. "I didn't want to create a fake traditional farm but rather something contemporary yet not shocking, using warm colors and materials," Emanuela explains. "My outside experience influences how I approach everything from management to marketing. I can create a place with the eye of someone who has lived in London, for people who want certain amenities." Knowing something about the sclerotic nature of Italian bureaucracy myself, however, I can see that if Emanuela were not from Syracuse originally, she would have had a much harder time with the permits.

Salina, in the Aeolian islands, is my last stop. I have been wanting to go for years—Italians whose taste I trust gush when they describe them. The islands become a beach mob scene in summer, but they're sleepy enclaves the rest of the year. I take the ferry from Milazzo, and as I approach Salina, the perfectly formed volcanic island of Stromboli and the stark island of Panarea seem placed merely to create an idyllic view. Salina was supposedly home to the sirens who tempted Odysseus and served as the film location for Il Postino, the movie about a postman who befriends Pablo Neruda (exiled to the island) and depends on his advice after falling in love with a local girl. All of which is to say that it is a very romantic backdrop, with twin volcanoes dominating the scenery and little roads snaking along the coast and through its center.