Palermo's cathedral is a building that has never settled on one identity, and that is its charm. The present church was begun in 1185 under Walter of the Mill, the English archbishop, on the site of an earlier mosque that had itself replaced a Christian church. Since then each century has added something: Gothic towers, a Catalan-style porch, a neoclassical dome in the 1700s, and a southern front that looks like a North African fortress dressed for a festival. The mixture is deliberate in neither case and somehow works in both.
Inside, the most remarkable thing is a side chapel holding the royal tombs. Roger II, the first Norman king, and Frederick II, the Holy Roman Emperor known as stupor mundi, lie in massive porphyry sarcophagi, quiet and unexplained, a few metres from the tourists. There is also a silver urn for Santa Rosalia, the city's patron, whose feast every July is a very large event. The rooftop walk gives a view across the tile roofs to the mountains behind and the sea in front.
The cathedral sits on Corso Vittorio Emanuele, the ancient street that links the harbour with the Norman Palace, and a short walk takes you to Quattro Canti, the baroque crossroads at the old city's centre, and the markets of Ballaro and Capo, which are loud, ancient and full of food. For practical riding, Palermo means traffic: scooters in packs, narrow lanes, and limited-traffic zones in the centre. Park on the edge and walk for an hour, and you will see far more than you would by bike.
From here the ride heads inland toward the Roman villa near Piazza Armerina, a long day across the interior of Sicily on the A19 and quieter local roads. The first sixty kilometres out of the city can be busy; after that the land opens into hills of wheat and almond, and the roads become a pleasure. The sensible months are April to June and September to October.