The feeling was unreal and yet so extremely tangible and real, when I stood there in the middle of the ash rain yesterday morning, in the square of the Sicilian city of Giarre.

Ash and pebbles fell on us, the smell of smoke was strong, it stung in the throat and stinging in the eyes.

The rattling sound of the volcanic rain mingled with the dull strong rumble of Mount Etna.

In an instant I had my hair completely full of ashes, it came inside my clothes, everywhere.

All around me, people ran under cover, folded up their umbrellas, took shelter in houses and shops.

At the same time, on the other side of the volcano, to the southeast, new currents of lava erupted.

So far towards an uninhabited valley - but should the lava flow change, the situation could be sharp.

"Unusually intense and long-lasting"

"Then we have to leave our homes and seek protection," states the store owner Antonina as she sweeps the street outside the store.

A job that seems rather pointless after almost a month of eruptions and ash rain.

Sicilians are used to living in symbiosis with the volcano, having its threateningly beautiful profile against the sky as part of their everyday life.

But even the elderly people who lived all their lives next to Etna call the ongoing outbreak unusually intense and long-lasting.

Later in the day, my photographer Domenico and I took the car higher up the volcano to film the evening's news.

The higher up we got, the more ash.

It was like pulsing in the snow but with a loud crackling sound.

We saw cars destroyed by falling volcanic rocks, with dents and broken rear windows.

Emergency permit in 43 municipalities

In Giarre alone, the volcanic eruption littered more in half an hour than ordinary garbage does in a whole year.

The remediation costs there alone are estimated to be equivalent to around SEK 5 million - so far.

And more ash is expected, Etna shows no signs of calming down, on the contrary.

Sicily's governor Nello Musumeci has declared a state of emergency in 43 municipalities and is asking for help from the government in Rome.

Now on Saturday morning the sun is shining again over orange trees and a dove-blue sea, people are doing their Saturday errands, having a coffee outside, shopping.

But the orange groves, the streets, the cars, everything, just about everything, are soot black.

Askberg towers on the sidewalks and high above us broods Etna and the uncertainty.