THE GRAND seduction

Palermo's chaos, swagger, and temperamental charm cast a hypnotic spell.

- Stanley Stewart

The Palazzo Valguarnera-Gangi occupies two sides of a piazza, as well as several adjoining streets, deep in the heart of the Kalsa quarter of Palermo. When I rang the bell, a uniformed butler opened the colossal door and ushered me up a double staircase past the stone bowls of water in which, had I been arriving at night some time in the 18th century, I could extinguish my torch. At the top, the Principessa Carine Vanni Calvello Mantegna di Gangi was waiting to guide me round one of Italy's grandest palaces.

Palermo is a stage set, a theatrical confusion of ornate façade and crumbling backstreets. The city could provide the setting for a 1930s gangster thriller, a medieval fantasy with secret codes and evil monks, a bodice-ripping romance, or a contemporary film noir. But for all the intricate cloisters, chaotic markets, and grand sea terraces, Palermo's narratives are more about characters than scenery. Round every corner, you stumble into remarkable people. The city is a hothouse for personalities. Visit Paris and you meet no one, except possibly other tourists. Come to Palermo and your phone is suddenly full of Sicilian friends. The city opens its arms and pulls you onto its stage. It wants to make you part of the story.

In the palazzo, the principessa, who seemed too young and chic for this antique place, led me through the Fencing Room, the Music Room, the Red Room, the Green Room, the Conversation Room, and the Suicide Room-so named for a painting of Cleopatra clutching her asp. When I asked how many rooms there were, she shrugged. If you know how many rooms there are, she said, it is not really a palace. We carried on past a dinner service for 100 people, a cabinet made for a Mughal emperor, and several chandeliers the size of trucks, before arriving in the ballroom, the Gallery of Mirrors.