I have tried to give a good review on Trip Advisor for ‘Maison’ in Ver-le-Chartres, but found no facility to do so. Anyway, after driving up and down the main street of the very small village without finding a sign we stopped and asked the help of a neighbour. The lady and her little daughter, with characteristic French courtesy, led us to the very door. Upon entering,we found our B&B to be in a quite ancient little house. First impression: a very basic, sparse living room.
River at the Bottom of the Garden
VER-LE-CHARTRES – B&B OF FRIENDLY PEOPLE
However, our hosts were a very friendly couple. They had fixed up a most comfortable bedroom, with ample clothes storage for a whole family. It looked out onto the back garden leading down to the river. Our hostess took us round, proudly pointing to all the vegetables she had planted amongst the flowers in the border. There were more guest rooms built to one side of the lawn.
OUR LANDLADY RESTORES MOTORBIKES AND TRACTORS
Our landlady – Isobel, spoke English and told us she restored tractors and motorbikes. We got the impression that this couple were bikers of long-standing, and liked a simple, slightly alternative lifestyle, and to maintain it they were turning their hand at anything to sustain them in this markedly rural village.
VER-LE-CHARTRES B&B – TALL GRAHAM HAD TO DUCK LOW
Graham could not believe it when he found that in order to get to the shower room he had to squeeze his 6’3” under a ladder leading to the loft, where our hosts slept. (This well-equipped shower room was on the ground floor and we shared it with our hosts – although we never collided).
However, it was an excellent shower. Graham got up very early the next morning for his, and then took a lengthy walk around the village, before returning in time for breakfast. He took all these lovely photographs:
Dawn over the River L’Eure
VER-LE-CHARTRES B&B – NICE PEOPLE OFFERING GOOD VALUE:
Breakfast was very basic: Bread torn from a communal loaf; no butter – but there was a pot of delicious homemade jam. Fresh coffee was plentiful.
To our surprise a strange man rose from the couch – a friend who had been put up by these kindly, laid-back people. We all ate huddled together round the small table.
REMEMBERING RURAL ENTREPRENEURS:
We will long remember how welcoming Isobel and her husband were. Also, the very low price they asked, and the cleanliness and comfort of our room. (The obvious efforts they have put into providing the best accommodation possible in their property leaves them virtually no privacy).
We wish Isobel and her partner great good luck in their endeavours. We hope our readers will be attracted by our description and book with them.
After F1’s ‘Healthy breakfast’ of cornflakes, undrinkable coffee and a tiny, limp croissant (€7 each) that day’s country route to Sorges was the most scenic so far. The A20/A9 took us through the spectacular ‘Dordogneshire’ countryside. Majestic trees, gorges, cliffs, rivers – ooh, I could go on…
EARLY ENOUGH TO SEE BREAD PULLED FROM OVEN –
This was our earliest start by far. (7.30am). We found a misty back road, and soon reached a small village. School buses drew up in the square as we parked outside a tiny, old-fashioned bake house. We could see inside to where a man had just opened a small door in the wall. He then went back to where very long-poled ‘paddles’ were hanging from hooks in the high rafters. He selected one (the four-foot paddle made the whole tool measure at least sixteen feet.) He pushed it into the oven and started drawing out aromatic loaves of bread.
AND PASTRIES GRABBED BY HUNGRY SCHOOLBOYS
We stood in the entrance to a miniscule ‘shop’, hoping to buy one, but were suddenly bypassed by a large posse of schoolboys, who suddenly appeared with jam tarts and similar goodies in their hands. These were unwrapped, because they were wolfing them down as they streamed back to their buses, which promptly drove off. We gladly accepted small, very strong coffees in paper cups.
ARGENTON-SUR-CREUSE
SPECTACULAR VIEW FROM THE BRIDGE
This was the start of the spectacular scenery and romantic chateaux on this country route to Sorge. But what stood out for us was when, right on the road, we came upon the small town of Argenton-Sur-Creuse (as per my planned itinerary). Parking in a side street with houses of mixed age, we walked round for a bit, looking for the river, and Graham suggested taking the next turning. I was reluctant, feeling tired – but how wrong I was! We found ourselves by a lovely old bridge, and there were truly ancient houses rising straight out of the water on one side.
A patch work of rooftops at Argenton-sur-Creuse – another medieval town on route
The opposite bank had grander buildings and trees, and a golden statue of the La Bonne Dame winked in the sun from its perch atop a high bell tower.
GRAHAM TAKES PHOTOS – I FIND A HANDY BAR
While Graham took photos from the bridge I turned into the narrow, cobbled street and found a tiny bar. I yet again badly needed of a toilet – a tedious priority of advancing years.
AN UNUSUAL LOCAL BAR
I was intrigued by the bar, which was run by an ageing lady who by her makeup and dress must have been called Fifi. Why do I say this? Because there was something racy about the scarlet interior. The walls were smothered with photographs of bygone glories, including lots of famous jazz players. I could smell strong perfume as she ushered me through a bead curtain to a tiny but very clean loo in the back.
CAFFE-CLACKING
When I returned I was greeted in English by three mature lady shoppers enjoying their coffee. The hostess joined in whilst washing and shredding large lettuces that looked as if pulled from the ground ten minutes before.
The old mill sitting in still waters at Argenton-Sur-Creuse
Graham later joined us and we had an enjoyable morning break, drinking coffee and chatting. Two elderly gentlemen came in and gave us much local information and history.
SHADY RIVERSIDE WALK
Before getting back on the road, because we had ample time, we took a good walk along the shady, tree-lined riverbank in the opposite direction, and Graham took several photos, both looking back and over the river, but principally of two mills – one on each bank. (One is on the slider on the Home page.)
The high church tower at Thiviers that overshadowed our route
We got talking to a local lady walking her dog.
A HIGH-CLASS BOULANGERIE
This must have been the day we stopped to lunch in the dining room of a high-class boulangerie further along on the road – and very good it was. Because of the extreme heat we bought baguettes for our evening meal, feeling that possibly we could not face a large, beautiful dinner that evening. Into the cool box they went, to be eaten later with tomatoes and grapes.
The country road A9 took us through Thiviers, which had an enormous church tower, and an impressive chateau- seen from our car.
Memory then aided us in finding our special hideaway discovered two years before: Le Grain D’Art, Sorges.
We left Tripotello on our fourth morning. We would be staying in Carini, a town just outside Palermo. Our country road crossed the island to the North Coast. It would lead us through a very large forest.
Golden woods of Parco Dei Nebrodi
My one regret in planning such a late holiday had been that already (on 8thNovember) I would have missed autumn in Britain. I love to see the colours each year. I had not expected to see them here, as back in mainland Italy there was hardly a sign of yellowing in the trees. To my delight, as we entered the forest we found the whole area was gleaming with brightly golden autumn leaves. If anything, they grew even brighter as our road climbed and then started to descend, a mountain. After two hours or so I begged Graham to stop where we might take a walk. Presently he was able to park the car by a grassy glade.
Our Golf parked by the grassy glade
Cattle of the Parco Dei Nebrodi
JOURNEY TO CARINI – AN ABRUPT END TO AN IDYLL
No sooner were we out of the car and enjoying the birdsong and the feel of soft grass through our sandal-sides than a tinkling of bells grew rapidly louder, and we could hear conversation. A large group of men and animals were obviously coming down from the mountain.
To our great consternation a largish herd of bulls appeared out of the trees. They proceeded to cross the road not very far in front of us – about twenty yards. We could see many coming up behind. So I had to forfeit my walk; but Graham took great pleasure in filming the handsome beasts with their long horns. I admit that I stood well behind him! We debated whether to post the video as it was of such poor quality, but the sounds that it captured were so evocative of the region. Several times we stopped the car in the forest. Though we only saw the cattle roundup once, we heard it several times.
Parco dei Nebrodi, Sicily.
Cattle of the Parco Dei Nebrodi
CEFALU
Duomo at Cefalù
As there was time for some sightseeing, we took the coast road to Cefalu. Itwas high time, we decided, to visit the sea again. After all, we were staying on an island!
We are not lovers of beach resorts. Rather, ‘culture vultures’, I suppose, seeking out historical buildings and art. Unlike many, though, we love to get off the beaten track. Our chief joy is diving down any little country lane that looks inviting – seeing where it leads. Though not infallible, we have discovered many a hidden gem this way.
Nobody can blame the Italians for ‘prettifying’ their fishing villages, and filling them with souvenir shops. Nevertheless, it was a joy to discover that Cefalu offered much more. It had evidence of an important past.
Its impressively grand cathedral, we learned, was built by one of Sicily’s Norman rulers; Roger the Second. As well as its twin towers, it had some intriguing and delicate arches along its front.
Deciding we did not have time enough to justify paying a rather steep entry fee, we settled for sitting just outside, sipping Peronis. Feeling cooler, we started exploring the town. Buildings gave witness to its history. We saw Byzantine and Spanish influences, as well as Norman and Arab; then rather fine Italian styles.
We made our way down to where we overlooked the rocky harbour. This still retained the look of an honest fishing village. We soaked in the view along the coast before getting back in the car.
Cefalù
Days 4 & 5:
CARINI – TROUBLE FINDING OUR B&B – ‘THE GREEN HOUSE’
Our next B&B was in The Green House, in Carini – run by Alesso and his mother. We had terrible trouble finding it. Miss Satnav would insist on sending us down an empty back-alley right beside the elevated motorway we had come in on.
This was not the first time that Airbnb had given insufficient directions. We tried telephoning the number on our sheet, but with no success.
Finally we retraced our steps and found a café nearby. After a refreshing coffee, the owner tried phoning for us, and obtained more detailed directions.
Our B&B was in the road behind the alley, and had to be approached from a different direction entirely!
CARINI B&B – HELPFUL HOSTS
As we turned into a very private small road, our host came out to direct us to a parking place, and then, with his mother, helped Graham carry in our luggage.
We found ourselves in a very nice private house – the inside reminding us vaguely of ‘haciendas’ seen in Hollywood films.
We had a large bedroom, although the wardrobe was at that time filled with someone’s clothes (this may have been unavoidable). We had to share the bathroom, but that proved no problem.
CARINI B&B – CAKES FOR BREAKFAST
Mamma (Janice?) went to great lengths to produce nice breakfasts, cooking many cakes (which is about the only time Italians eat cakes – and little else!) It was very reasonably priced. We felt very welcome in their private home, and we stayed two nights.
Adresse Chambres d’hôtes Green House : Via Medusa 3 – 90044 CARINI
(We booked this place through Air B&B – but as so often with them, we had vexing complications regarding payment (through exchange rates, I think). We will not use them again – at least for staying abroad. They are never as cheap as the first advertised price anyway.) To be fair, many friends back in England have been pleased with bookings in our own country.
“If we don’t go today, we’ll never see the little town where Carlo Levi was imprisoned,” I told Graham. “I’ve got to do our packing tomorrow – and there’s quite a lot. We’ve spread ourselves over seven weeks. Apart from clothes there’s that thin duvet we brought which has proved so useful, and things like our chest cooler – never really used, but full of veg and bread; and…”
“O.k., oKAY,” he said. “Don’t go on. I thought you couldn’t find Gagliano.”
ALIANO – CARLO LEVI’S GAGLIANO DISCOVERED
“I told you. He made up the name Gagliano – I discovered that three weeks ago. It’s really called Aliano – and it’s not far. See? And we can call in again at Ferrandina on the way back. You said you wanted to take more photos there. And Pisticci – which Giuseppe said we should visit.”
Thus it was that our last day trip in Basilicata proved to be one of the very best of our many lovely memories of this unique part of Italy.
ALIANO – CARLO LEVI’S LANDSCAPE: (The feature image at the top of this post was taken from Aliano)
Centre of Aliano
Sure enough, as we approached the town – less than an hour’s drive away from our base, the landscaped changed. Flattish ‘khaki’ farmland gave way to the bare, grey-white clay hills described and painted by Carlo Levi. We took the winding, narrow road up to the town. We had to park right at the beginning, until we saw a sign that said invalid parking was allowed further in. This was just as well, because we drove quite a way down the main street before we found the Blue Badge Car Park. Even then a quite long walk awaited us.
We had got as far as some railings overlooking a ravine, where men who clearly looked like locals were eating great slices of pizza they had bought at a littlel shop opposite. We were about to go in when I noticed a tiny baker’s shop almost next door.
ALIANO HAS A TRADITIONAL BAKERY
“Just look at those loaves, Graham – and the lovely rolls. They’re almost like our French dinner rolls at home. I’ve never seen them before in Italy.”
So we went into the shop, which was really the bakery. A very small, very old man was bringing loaves out of a brick oven. He used a long shaft (12 feet?) with a paddle at the end, which he manoeuvred carefully under each loaf.
His wife stood behind the modest, L-shaped wooden counter that fronted the place. She smiled and wished us ‘Buongiorno.’ I pointed at a small loaf on the shelf behind her, but was interrupted.
ALIANO – ‘THE SOUL OF ITALY’ IN A BREAD ROLL
I’d hardly noticed a pretty young girl squashed behind Graham until she confronted us and asked,
“Americano?”
“No. Inglese.”
“Aah. You will like Italian bread, then. Inglese know good bread.”
“Some do – a lot just buy wrapped from supermarkets. Silly things.”
“This VERY good bread. I come from Bari whenever I can. This town is SOUL of ITALY!” She threw up her arms. “And this bread the SOUL of the Soul of Italy! Best bread; you taste. Here!”
ALIANO – WE EAT ‘THE SOUL OF ITALY’
And she lifted up the little counter and dived through to a table at the back, bringing out a small bread roll. This she broke open. She then reached across the amused, ageing proprietress and picked up an olive oil dispenser. She doused each side of the little roll, then put her hands into a small pot and sprinkled some finely chopped fresh basil on each half, bit into one and threw up her hands – “Divine!” She then thrust the other half at us.
“The taste of Italy! Eat the SOUL of Italy!”
So we did –
The proprietress beyond the counter grinned at me and spread her hands in that ‘Waddayado’ gesture seen a thousand times in Hollywood films featuring Italian actors.
Clay columns
ALIANO – NO ESCAPE FOR CARLO
After buying our loaf, and receiving hugs and kisses on both cheeks from all present, we made our way to the railings again. Looking over, we saw sharp peaks of that white clay, too perilous to descend by. And there was nothing else – for miles. No wonder that Carlo Levi did not need to be kept confined, for where would there have been to escape to? In those days (1936-1945) there was little traffic, and only the one road down. The extreme other end of the village held only the bleak graveyard, set on a high promontory. And all the surrounding area was well nigh empty – and very poor.
The piazza
ALIANO FRUSTRATION – LEVI MUSEUM CLOSED – BUT STILL WONDROUS
We followed the railings, passing a really exquisite little square. This held the old town hall, and some attractive houses. Not least was ‘The House of the Hundred Eyes’, so called because of its many windows.
House with a hundred eyes
Unfortunately, the museum was closed, and so we could not get a guide to take us to view Levi’s lodgings at the time of his ‘imprisonment’. Also closed was the house he later had built. Strangely, he decided to return to this place of ‘exile’. He had made so many friends – and no wonder – he had used his doctor’s skills to treat the poor for no payment.
BUT DID WE SEE THE VIEWS CARLO LEVI HAD SEEN?
But we did see them from the outside. The house where he stayed was substantial and attractive. His own, later dwelling was right on the edge of the escarpment. He would have looked right over a sea of the white clay peaks, caused by too much forest clearance in the past. We wondered if he had lived to see the later changes in the more distant landscape, when topsoil was brought in and fields planted on the plains.
NO WONDER CARLO LEVI DID NOT ATTEMPT ESCAPE
Carrying on down the long main street we came to a bust depicting this great man and benefactor. Just below it were steps to a viewing platform to see to the bottom of the deep gorge. Graham went down, but I stayed up top. I watched people coming away from the ‘castle’ – too late for us. A bell tolled ‘Closing Time’.
DID HIS ‘PRISON’ LOOK AS ATTRACTIVE THEN?
Aliano today is a very clean, bright and pretty town. I can’t help thinking that it must have looked very different to Carlo Levi. That writing, painting, Jewish doctor-activist put it and ‘Lucania’ as Basilicata was known, ‘on the map’. He wrote about his captivity there, and the poverty of the whole region, and most of all – the wretched conditions of those starving souls living in the Sassi of Matera. It was through his book ‘Christ stopped at Eboli’ that new homes were built for the 16,000 odd inhabitants turned out of their wretched cave-dwellings. They were offered the alternative option of passage to America and Australia.
Some, like our friend Vincenzo, came to Britain.
Carlo Levi’s ‘Soul of Italy’
LOST IN THE TUNNEL – WE MISSED THE CITTA ANTICA
PISTICCI.
We took a different route back, visiting again (very briefly) Ferrandina. This road first took us through Pisticci. Giuseppe had told us that this town should be on our list. So we were bemused when after entering by a very long tunnel cut through the mountain, we finally ascended to a rather boring, characterless modern street of little shops. We did pass a statue in a small piazza. It did not seem that Pisticci was that special after all. We were just as bewildered as the staring local inhabitants were by us. Clearly, they were not used to foreigners in left-hand drive cars.
The road looped down, and we exited through the same tunnel by which we had entered. We were glad to stop once more in Ferrandina. Later, studying the map carefully, I realised that we had been in Pisticci SCALO – we think it must mean ‘New Town’ and had by-passed the ancient hilltop town, which probably saw numerous tourist coaches.
ALIANO – LAST DISCOVERY IN BASILICATA
It was with sadness that we returned to base that evening. Our stay in Basilicata was at an end. We had grown to love the region – and that love is with us still. The next day (3rd November) would be taken up with packing and checking the car over for our next long leg – down to the ferry, and then exploring Sicilia (Sicily).
“Let’s have a look at this place called Irsina,” I suggested, pointing to an illustration in a booklet we’d been given. So we got ourselves together and set the SatNav, only to discover that the turning to Irsina was literally just up the road. We had not often gone along it in the Grassano direction, and had certainly not noticed the signpost to Irsina. What a discovery!
Green, flattish fields, and then suddenly an enormous, high ‘wall’ that dived down below the earth’s surface. Clearly an old quarry to build the ‘new town’ which sloped quite steeply upwards above it.
Irsina by the glow of the setting sun
One of the two archways into the Cittia Storica
IRSINA – MORE RAUCOUS STARLINGS IN A QUIET PIAZZA
We found ourselves in a very long, steep High Road full of shops. The road was suddenly faced with what was clearly a very old arch (the Porta Maggiore – Main Gate). We passed through into the Citta Storica. We found ourselves in a piazza that had a grand building (for a modest country town) all along one side. There was another at the back.
The centre of the Piazza Garibaldi was taken up with thick, square clipped trees that formed a block. They were faced at intervals by park benches. As we walked in deep shade beneath these trees they suddenly came alive with loud rustlings and birdsong. They were obviously chock-full of Starlings.
IRSINA – YOU CAN SEE FOR MILES AND MILES AND –
We emerged to find ourselves looking at one of the most impressive war memorials we had ever seen. Not that it was large or elaborate; it was the vitality of the charging soldier atop his high white plinth.
War Monument
Beyond, a low wall overlooked the panoramic, colourful landscape of the feature photo at the top of this page.
We looked out over miles of typical Basilicatan plain and low, swelling hillocks dominated by a flat-topped mini-mountain in the near-distance.
A diminutive gentleman of impressive age sat on the seat facing it. Suddenly he spoke to us in very good English.
“I look at this view every day, and I never tire of it.”
“We understand. We have noticed that in Basilicata particularly, as the sunlight moves around it constantly changes the view. It’s wonderful. What a beautiful town to live in.”
And it was – very special, although in some back streets we noticed that a few of the pretty old houses had been ‘gentrified. Many were now painted in pastel colours.
(We do have a photo of that friendly, courteous citizen, but we decided not to show it, out of respect to him.)
View from Irsina
(The illustration just above was taken looking along to the left of the main photograph at the top.)
IRSINA – MORE EVIDENCE OF GREEDY BRITS – HANDS OFF!
PLEASE GREEDY DEVELOPERS – RESIST THE URGE TO ‘SNAP-UP’ PROPERTY HERE
On the Internet I discovered that this might well have been under the aegis of, I regret tosay, some Englishwoman who is advertising property in ‘Basilicatashire’.Graham and I fervently hope this person stops this cultural plundering. We have seen too many historic towns and villages in many countries ‘Disneyfied’ at worst, and ‘prettified’ at best.
In Cornwall, most of the Tourist Trap villages are now lucky to have even one single Cornish person living in them. Their pretty cottages were snapped up when cheap to buy, and ‘developed’ for incomers who now live in them for short periods. They then let them out as short holiday lets. Some villages are almost empty in the winter months because the locals cannot afford to live in the place where they were born. The inflated prices outrun the local wages.
Heaven forefend that this will be the fate of unspoiled, authentic Basilicata! We would hate this magic land to go the way of ‘Dordogneshire’. The generous – handed people who live here might become resentful, as in Cornwall and some of the scenic areas of France.
We are not saying that people should not emigrate and settle in other countries; but the incomer should always be mindful of the sensiblities of those they are joining.
Irsina’s Duomo
IRSINA- MORE INFORMATION FROM A FREE GUIDE
Irsina Citta Storica is an exquisite old hilltop town, which never ceased to fascinate us. Staying so close, we visited it at least three times. It has a small but very old (11c) Duomo. The inside is beautiful in a pleasingly unfussy way. We were privileged to hear a full account about its treasures. This was given to us by our free guide; a senior schoolboy with excellent English.
A GREAT SCHEME
In Italy there is a very good scheme whereby children learn all about the history of their town (and probably other facts.) On certain days (this was a Friday afternoon, after school) they set up a stall in the town square. They offer themselves as free guides to visitors. This also helps them to practice their foreign language skills on foreign tourists.
Giuliano, our guide, was as full of pride in his town as in his knowledge. We could be sure there would be no vandalism from him or his mates. Indeed, in all our many trips to Italy (and France) we’ve seen virtually no evidence of the vandalism that mars so many of our British towns and villages.
IRSINA – A PRETTY FEISTY SAINT
St Euphemia
The great treasure of Irsina is the delicately painted and gilded stone statue of S Eufemia (Euphemia) that stands to one side of the altar. It had stayed hidden for centuries behind dusty glass on a high shelf in a storeroom of the Cathedral – and was only discovered in 2004!
From a newspaper report at that time –
Masterpiece unnoticed for 500 years: John Hooper in Rome:
Saturday 23 October 2004 00.35 BST
‘Almost two decades of detective work, triggered by a Latin poem found in the Vatican archives, has led experts to conclude that a statue that had stood unnoticed for five centuries in a small southern Italian town is the work of a Renaissance master.’
It is attributed to the great painter Andrea Mantegna – claimed locally to be a native of Irsina, though other records show him born in Padua. All agree that he was son-in-law of Jacopo Bellini, and an influence on Giovanni Bellini. Mantegna was born in 1431, and executed (sic) in Mantua in 1506. He created his exquisite statue of St Eufemia when he was only 23 – she is the patron saint of Irsina (– and quite a gal.)
St Euphemia
(Vivien, who loves cats, would have liked Eufemia as the saint had a pet lion. We had an embarrassing time confessing to Giuseppe (after she had left) how we could not stop Vivien taking all the kittens into her bedroom at night and feeding them all with meat from our fridge as well as their kitten food. (He wanted them feral and a bit hungry, so as to catch mice. )
IRSINA – MORE THREATENING WITH HAND IN LION’S MOUTH
Eufemia’s statue is uncannily lifelike, and most remarkable in that it depicts a clearly strong woman. Here, for once, is a lady (although a saint she lacks any sort of halo) who looks extremely stern. She sends off the Saracens by putting her hand into her tame lion’s mouth.
The Saracens captured the town around 320AD. When young aristocrat Eufemia refused to meet their demands to make a pagan sacrifice (one wonders what that entailed, as she looks very pretty) they threw her into their lions’ den. She tamed and befriended the beasts. That was the story we were told, but there are some other, somewhat confusing versions.
Her expression said to Graham and me ‘Don’t f…. with me, fellars.’ (With apologies to J. Crawford).
It’s an exquisite piece. She is on a rotating plinth and at certain times they will work it for you…
IRSINA – MORE INTRIGUING SYMBOLS – IN A TEMPLAR-TEMPLE
Steps leading down to the Templar Crypt
The priest approached Graham.
I was surprised to see them in animated conversation. After the slow rotating of this remarkably beautiful statue to gasps of wonderment from all of us visitors, the caretaker took the two of us down to the 11thc cross-form crypt. It is massive, and amazingly intact. It is attributed to the Knights Templar. As well as a fading fresco where God the Creator looks down benignly from the centre of the ceiling, there is a well-preserved escutcheon with an elderly pilgrim as centrepiece.
Pilgrim and Face
Above this is a carved and painted, fat and very large heavily-moustachioed face with no apparent chin. We saw this face carved into walls (and also on stables) all over Basilicata. It is very primitive, and we wondered if it is the Italian equivalent of our ‘Green Man’.
In the centre of the floor is a roundel with classic geometric ‘flower’ or ‘daisy wheel’ pattern. (Looking it up, I think it means ‘The Seed of Life’). As at Stonehenge, the very centre of this symbol is caught by a beam of light at sunrise at both Summer and Winter Solstices. Three round windows set into the ceiling of the half-dome enable this.
Crypt – Solstice Point
St Francis
We went back several times to see more of Irsina. We walked round the ancient streets and alleys, and the small squares with fountains. In one we found a most lively statue of St Francis of Assisi holding aloft the Dove of Peace. He is standing in front of the Church of the Purgatoria.
IRSINA – MORE SURPRISES – WHIZZING PIZZAS & FINE DINING
Near the main piazza there is the pleasant Caffe Ducala Ristorante & Pizzeria serving ice creams as well as food and drink. The proprietor, who spoke perfect English, delighted in amazing us with a performance of flipping pizza bases up and around himself.
We also had a lunch and at least two evening dinners at the excellent trattoria in the main square; Trattoria Nugent da Mario e Gigia, where we met a friendly Belgian party of four. One gentleman made films in time spared from his business. Graham, with similar aspirations, was delighted. The rest of us made polite conversation while those two got ever deeper into their subject. Email addresses were exchanged, but so far no further connections have been made.
We had already discovered Miglionico, a pretty, historical hilltop town with a large and important 11thc castle (called Malconsiglio, because of bad advice, leading to extremely bloody disputes between the king and his barons – a Basilicatan King John?)
It is also famous for its main (Mother) church, Santa Maria Maggiore, which is about as old. It has a Romanesque bell tower and famous polyptrych – an eighteen-panel masterpiece, painted in 1499.
The 18 panel 15th cen. Polytrych masterpiece to be found in Santa Maria Maggiore, Miglionico
It also had one of the most moving crucifixes I have ever seen; very old and executed in painted wood, it can be seen near the main door. Adjoining it is the convent of San Francesco, back of the main piazza, where the men regularly gather in the late afternoon, soon to be joined by their women and children on the regular evening ‘promenade’ through the streets, a charming practice of the entire region. High up facing the piazza in a niche was an exquisite Pieta.
A beautiful Pieta in a high niche on the outside wall of Santa Maria Maggiore, Miglionico
Another church is Santa Maria delle Grazie; very tiny, hidden in a back street. It is also very old, and simple, both inside and out – except for the glorious, delicate frescoes around the altar, especially that showing the nativity. They were painted by Giovanni Antonio Bazzi – known as ‘Sodoma’.
Miglionico’s piazza- where everyone promenade in the evening
WE ARE A STAR ACT – USING LOCAL SHOPS
We regularly shopped in Miglionico for our food, (We prefer using local shops rather than spending our money in large supermarkets; invariably the food is fresher and in Italy, we found, cheaper. Doing this has extended our knowledge.) It also gives great amusement to the local housewives. We will never forget the first time we walked into the ‘frutti’ (greengrocers) where we suddenly became a comic turn and before long, the star attraction. All business stopped while we were served. The waiting ladies would have a great laugh at our struggles with Italian, and a fun time was had by all.
We always emerged with several bulging bags of fruit and veg for about 6 euros. If I could still just taste those grapes! Everything was local and organic and fresh, fresh, fresh (except for bananas). The proprietress would never let us select our own veg and fruit but chose it for us, stuffing great quantities into a carrier bag or even two. Her customers, grinning broadly, were quite happy to wait their turn.
Graham spread his custom amongst three butchers. One sold his own tender and tasty reared beef and veal – and whole legs of lamb (never knew what happened to the other bits). His rivals had a bigger selection; both were charming, but the rivals charged more. We would also be treated to a friendly greeting from the grocer running the mini-supermarket: All of which got us feeling like regular visitors (even friends?) of the little town.
On Lolly’s first day we took her for that nostalgic experience, and also stopped for coffee in a small local bar. Lolly was a bit disconcerted to find it patronised only by men; we later found a place where women could enjoy coffee and chat in mixed company.
GRAHAM IS BEFRIENDED.
Vincenzo – A man who befriended us and shared many of Miglionico’s secrets
We were struggling to find out about the local wines in the big 2 litre plastic containers (costing about €4) when a local gentleman who introduced himself as Vincenzo helped us. He spoke perfect English, having spent some years as a waiter in a posh London hotel.
Vincenzo took us on a tour of the town, including a walk right round the extensive castle walls. We old girls were both exhausted by the heat and hung behind, so missed his telling of all the historical details, but I Googled them later.
The wall walk around the town – Vincenzo first took us here in Miglionico
It’s All About The Meat!
We also that evening had an amazing meal behind a macelleria (butcher’s shop). The butcher, as fat as Falstaff and as jolly, brought out dish after dish on plastic plates. Thin slices of almost-white cheese came first; small rounds, so I guess they were taken from one of those little cheeses that look like balloons or lamps; very special to this area and made from sheep’s milk. Small dishes of finely cut red, yellow and green capsicums from his own garden followed, simmered in olive oil, and would you believe – thin slices of raw pumpkin, which to our surprise tasted tender, sweet and delicious! Then that crusty bread they have, toasted and drenched in olive oil and sprinkled with fresh herbs – also delicious!
But eating at Peppino’s was all about the meat, which came in generous portions, wafting rich smells, and cooked superbly. Graham chose veal, which was so tender he could cut it with his fork. I was brave and chose horse; I think Peppino thought that because I am Inglese he had to cook it ‘well done’. I intended to go back and ask for it ‘bleu’; more tender and juicy that way. We were surprised when he appeared with a large plate of little pork twists to share – utterly tasty and soft. When asked, he said they came from the back of the neck.
Peppino’s food is rated on Trip Advisor as No.1 in his town; all 5-star reviews except one, which bellyached about plastic plates and tablecloths – but it’s all about the food, which tasted divine – and the whole meal, which included wine and bottled water, cost 15 euros each.
We made friends with the other customers – six adults who were staying for the hunting (deer, boar and wolf, and numerous birds of prey, including vultures and eagles). They took us with them to finish off our meal in a smart Pasticceria, where we had Kaffé and little cakes. Nowhere like Italy for fresh coffee! Men, women and children would all come in, to stand and drink at the counter or sit at one of the two small tables with three chairs apiece. We bought a cake each to consume there and came away with a box of a dozen assorted from the vast display.
Santa Maria Maggiore from the castle – Miglionico
The man called Lucio also invited us to stay with him for a few nights. He is a retired banker, from Milano. He now lives close to Lecce, one of the foremost artistic towns in South Italy. He does ‘B&B for friends’. (This is why Graham and I just love Italians – as open and hospitable as the Americans of New Orleans. They told Graham that we are not like other Inglese; news I shall convey with great glee to our families, as we two have always been the ‘bit weird ones’ with our own folks.) Funny – we have made so many friends abroad – Lolly and her family and friends in USA; now three B&B hosts and a winegrower in France, Vjekoslav in Croatia, and so far three families in Italy – one of which, as you will learn, has become very special to us – oh, and the hotelier in Crete who plied us with Metaxa and invited us to a party, where he demonstrated to all present how he made Raki. And all because I recognised a photo of his grandfather as being an ‘Andarte’ – a mountain guerrilla fighter in WW2. )
WE FEEL NEGLECTFUL.
We felt ‘at home’ in Miglionico; consequently we rather neglected our ‘hometown’ of Grottole.
The ruins of the beautiful Romanesques Basilica at Grottole
We made an initial attempt to explore Grottole castle and ruined basilica that together made an unmistakable silhouette right at the top of the conical volcanic ‘plug’, recognisable from miles around in the land below. This excursion was thwarted in the main, certainly for me, because there was nowhere close enough to park, although I did take a quick glimpse into the tiny church further down. It was extremely old and very plain, but local ladies were dressing the life-size saint or Virgin Mary in real clothes, of a richness they most likely could not afford for themselves. (We saw many such ‘clothed’ saints in the area.)
One of the ancient churches in Grottole
Mostly we tended to drive through Grottole rather than using local shops in the town, although there was an attractive, very clean and bright mini-market. This was a pity, because the proprietress was very friendly and helpful, and her English was perfect, unlike the struggles on both sides to get understood in Miglionico. The thing was – that seemed to be the ONLY food shop in Grottole, apart from one butcher with no parking space that we could see. Mainly, I think, we were finding it such fun to shop in the old way, almost entirely lost back home; going from shop to shop, engaging in banter made even more enjoyable by language stumbles, which led to mutual laughter. It was an excursion we always looked forward to.
Our B&B – The beautiful old long farmhouse at Sorges – shaded by a large Sweet Chestnut tree
We were now well and truly in the North Dordogne. The countryside we passed through became increasingly beautiful, and we noticed a change in the style of buildings old and new.
SORGES – RETURNING TO A LOVELY WELCOMING B&B
After a few days non-stop travelling it’s good to take a breather. Relaxing: part of why we all go away. The South of France is great for this. We had booked months ahead atLe Grain D’Art, a lovely old farmhouse just outside Sorges belonging to Christian and Marie.
THE COLOUR-THEMED ROOMS OF A GIFTED ARTIST
Marie is a very gifted artist, and this is evident in the way she throws unusual colours together in decorating her home. Her combinations always work. When we arrived in early September we were given the same lovely, spacious ‘Apple room’ for two nights as two years before. The Apple Room is detached, with its own shower room and a separate WC. French doors lead straight into the garden… Le Grain D’Art
Marie was away taking a course, but her husband, Christian, despite being awoken from his afternoon nap, made us welcome and later provided the same generous breakfasts with a choice of three crusty French breads and home-made jams, as well as cereal, yoghourt, fresh fruit and lavish coffee. It was very hot (38C) and so we rested on our free day. Instead of visiting again favourite places like Perigueux, Brantome and Sarlat-le-Caneda, we just lazed around.
Sarlat-le-Caneda – A must see-beautiful medieval town with narrow winding streets and towering buildings – close to Sorges
We Just Love Eating At –
The night we arrived we had skipped dinner altogether – it was still 38C at around 6pm. On our second evening we went for a splendid meal at Marie’s favourite restaurant, the Auberge de la Truffe in nearby Sorges. They’d made a great fuss of us the year before. This time, like most of the diners, we passed through the beautifully-laid formal restaurant and ate instead in the pretty courtyard, under an awning that kept out some of the heat (about 36C.) The service and food were superb as ever; we felt truly pampered. This is a lovely, lovely restaurant, both in decor and the attention to detail in EVERYTHING – but especially the food, which looks almost too good to eat – but we did, and enjoyed every morsel. Auberge de la Truffe is an exceptional dining place.
