LAST DAY: WE TREASURE WONDERFUL FRENCH ‘AIRES’ – & ROUEN.
28th November:
Typical sign indicating to an Aire
We planned stopping at Rouen only for lunch. We had a long trip ahead – nearly 6 hours to reach Calais; even on the Toll road A28. Depending on good weather and no hitches, that is.
Let me mention here how all French Toll roads, (as well as a few others) have at reasonable intervals (20-30 miles usually) wonderful resting-places called ‘Aires’. Some have woodland walks; all provide picnic tables and always good clean loos. (Congratulations to the French public for respecting the needs of others.) Many Aires also provide drinking water and showers – all free. We really treasure these stops, and congratulate the French road designers for anticipating the needs of travellers.
We were still feeling a bit beaten-up after the ‘flu, and the weather had suddenly turned from 25 Centigrade in St Emilion to 10C. A big jump in two days, so all we remember of an otherwise unremarkable journey on the highway is the number of those wonderful ‘Aires’ en route. Those – and the barely-glimpsed city of Rouen.
The Great Clock on the Rue du Gros-Horloge – Rouen
ROUEN – WE WANT TO SEE MORE
We find to our chagrin that in mid-April 2017, as I came to the end of my account, that neither Graham nor I could remember any detail of Rouen, except that we liked it very much. We decided it would be an easy place to go back to for a few days or a week, as it beckoned further investigation. (See later blog of 2018 tour of France; coming soon.)
We parked somewhere near the cathedral and walked back to a promising-looking restaurant I had seen on a corner.
ROUEN – GREAT CHEAP LUNCH – GOOD FOOD – SERVICE –AMOSPHERE
Indeed it was. We were very lucky to get seats at a table by the window, because this was evidently where the local office and shop workers lunched. There was a constant stream. None of the staff spoke English, but there was a menu board with four choices for each course, and iced water and wine stood on every table. Le cap vers – 13 Rue de la République
OFFICE WORKER’S LUNCH – HAPPY TO WAIT OUR TURN
We indicated to the staff that we were happy to wait while they attended a large table of friends who had gathered to share their hurried lunch. And so, after a while we were rewarded with excellent friendly service after choosing our meals (at random) from the blackboard placed in front of us. Our food was delicious and very cheap – a lovely Last Lunch in La Belle France. If we do get back to Rouen, we will look for that café again.
So many pleasant experiences over the years have changed our previous (unfair) idea of Normandy as a flat landscape with only endless tragic war graves to draw one there!
Sorry, Normandy. We bow our heads in abject apology. Your towns and villages still have an amazing amount of lovely medieval buildings – and your museums offer such rich history.
Above all: Your people have always made us very welcome.
Azay-le-Rideau was where we had booked at a very small hotel for our next nights stay ; in itself a very modest town off the main road to Tours. Leaving St Emilion we took the D674 road to Angouleme
EN-ROUTE – LA ROCHE CHALAIS
En route, we stoppped off for a coffee and a quick bite for breakfast at La Roche-Chalais. Early Sunday morning found a cafe open close to the church on the high ground. It overlooked the river Dronne, which from our viewpoint appeared quite wide. A bridge with an impressive, single arching span crossed it.
ANGOULEME – the original home of the Plantagenets.
(Disappointingly, when we reached Angouleme we saw no trace of that fierce medieval Royal Family in both France and England. Athough we passed a castle it did not appear to be open to the public.)
We stopped for an hour or so, seeking lunch. Our road dictated us winding up and up, past a lovely covered market. We looked in vain for somewhere to park nearby, even turning back and driving in a loop.
Carrying on up the narrow hill we finally found a large open ‘Place’ surrounded by grand civic buildings. We were fortunate to park in a tiny side street, after first checking with a local lady. I noticed a sign pointing to The Ramparts, so urged Graham to just walk round the corner to see.
Angouleme – Avenue des Maréchaux
ANGOULEME – A GRAND PROMENADE – ANDA GREAT VIEW
We found ourselves in a wide street bordered on one side by railings. Looking over, you could see far below to a street of grand houses. A little further on was a large monument, with people seated on and near it, eating sandwiches.
Thinking of our time, Graham went back and fetched the remains of our good boulangerie breakfast and bottled water. We enjoyed this looking out over a wide view of a green park and golf course a couple of miles off to our left. The streets of the town wound ever down on our right, with a river a mile or two off. It was very dramatic, and pleasant in the November sun.
AngoulemeAngouleme – Rempart Desaix
SANDWICHES WITH 5TH PRESIDENT OF FRANCE
We found we were sitting beneath the statue of politician and mathematician Lazare Carnot, who was fifth President of France. (I hope I’ve remembered that aright. He was the 5thsomething, anyway).
Carnot Statue Angouleme
AZAY-LE-RIDEAU – THERE’S A SMALL HOTEL…
Not long afterwards we were crossing that river on our way to the small town of Azay-le-Rideau, near Tours.
After a little riding round we found our small hotel, tucked away in a side street.
Hotel Val de Loire
The Hotel Val-de-Loire is a well-run hostelry, perhaps slightly impersonal at the end of The
Season; (we arrived 27th November). That we could understand. However, our ensuite was bright and spotless. Nothing was neglected for our comfort. The extra pillows I had requested were in place, and the reading lamps worked.
Room Tip: As it stands back from a side street, all rooms are quiet.
WHEN EATING OUT – NEVER JUDGE A BOOK BY ITS COVER
It was a pity that the hotel dining room was closed. We were told that it being a Sunday there would be only one eating-place open in the town – the Grill in the square. From the outside it did not impress. When we entered we were dismayed to see games machines downstairs. And the dining room was not thrilling – checked tablecloths, candles in bottles – a time warp.
GOOD SERVICE – THANKS TO DEPARDIEU LOOK-ALIKE
The young waitress totally ignored us, even though only one table was occupied. That is – until a family group came in. We were treated to a big, friendly grin from a younger version of Gerard Depardieu. This genial young local man maybe said something, because after that we had good service and a truly great meal at a very fair price.
A GREAT MEAL – SIZZLING STONES
Graham, in particular, was thrilled by his slivers of raw pork to sizzle on a hot stone. It was accompanied by a nice, fresh salad and a little tub full of those excellent ‘frite’ only the French seem to come up with! I cannot remember my meal; only that it was also very tasty.
So – not our chosen venue, but what a GREAT meal we ended up with!
AZAY-le-RIDEAU – TURN ASIDE FOR THIS TOWN AND VISIT ITS CHATEAU
Azay-le-Rideau is an attractive small town, with interesting little shops. The chateau is also exceptional we have learned – though we had no time to visit it. If this town is on your route, do try staying there.
Chateau-Azay-le -Rideau
Azay-le-Rideau
AZAY-LE-RIDEAU’S CHARMING LITTLE SHOPS
We bought some of the local goodies the next day, mostly from a small shop with two round tables, where we enjoyed Assam tea (made properly) and scrumptious cakes, willingly paying the somewhat high price. We also bought some of Madame’s expensive home made local biscuits. They looked wonderfully crisp and flaky, but proved to break up in your hand and taste disconcertingly like Weetabix. We had to scoff them all in the car before they totally disintegrated!
We took a lovely country route to St Emilion, less than an hour and a half away if using the main road.
Instead, we chose a country route through some ancient villages.
The land was flat. We felt we were travelling through a sea of vineyards. I cannot remember now in which villages we saw not a few recognisable ‘wine label’ chateaux. All are very famous – both for their history and the wines produced in their vineyards.
I noted Bergerac, St Antoine-de-Breuilly, St Magne-de-Castillon.
A very narrow road followed, over a small bridge and into a tiny hamlet, which announced a wine festival the very next day – Saturday, 26th November.
OUR CAR ISSPRAYED WITH CONCRETE
But that was after we had been deviated through the outskirts of a small town where extensive road works were underway; and in a suburban side street our car was sprayed with concrete from a mixing machine; it displays splashes on one side to this day…
Entering the town
ST EMILION – DRIVE UP THE HILL – AND YOU ARE IN the 14TH CENTURY
We were enchanted when we drove up the winding hill into the southern end of St Emilion. We quickly found the Logis De Jurats where we had booked a room for two nights.
Our host met us at the door. On the telephone that morning he had kindly agreed that we could book in early, owing to our hasty exit from Chateau de Horreur.
LIKE US – THEY HAVE LOVINGLY RESTORED THEIR OLD HOUSE THEMSELVES
He and his wife are Dutch. In faultless English he explained how they had bought the attractive old house as a long-empty commercial building…
In a very dilapidated state, it had taken two years to restore and convert to this B&B, doing all the labour themselves. Such effort we appreciated and admired.
A GREAT TRANSFORMATION
They had kept the stone walls, cleaned to a lovely cream shade, and had done the minimum to ‘prettify’ the building – indeed, if anything, it had a bare look. But a décor of white walls and navy-blue door in our small room was very clean and attractive. We felt that Ikea had helped in furnishing both bedroom and ‘cupboard’ en-suite, as maximum use was made of limited space.
GOOD VALUE B&B FOR ST EMILION
The rent was not cheap compared to most we had paid. Breakfast was an extra item that we did not take; but great thought had gone into seeing that every need was catered for – including a good tea and coffee maker in the breakfast room.
This was, after all, St Emilion. One does not expect to get cheap lodgings in such a famous, exceptionally beautiful and expensive town. And our hosts were very pleasant, and happy to chat (in excellent fluent English) on all sorts of subjects; so we were well satisfied.
We had all that afternoon and evening to explore the charming town of St Emilion. The next day, my requests to go back to the little wine festival were contested (we have an agreement regarding taking turns to make choices.)
We went instead to Bordeaux, which we felt was most impressive when seen from the other side of the wide River Dordogne. Such a pity it took ages of inching through traffic to get near the centre. We decided not to linger; the weather was still hot and a little sweaty. We instead returned to the large bar in Libourne where we had stopped that morning for coffee, this time buying refreshing citron pressè. The lady serving greeted us with a wide smile, as though we were old friends.
ST EMILION – DO NOT MISS THE TOURIST INFORMATION CENTRE
That evening we entered the upper end of St Emilion and discovered the impressive Tourist Information Centre behind a colonnade of stately 12th century arches (we think part of a cloister), fronting a very ancient building that was presumably once the abbey. We did not have time to tour the famous, stately old wine cellars; but they look marvellous in the brochure.
ST EMILION – ALWAYS EAT WITH THE LOCALS!
At last we got over our ‘flu – and were suddenly ravenously hungry. Picking our way down the winding, cobbled streets we passed many pretty little restaurants, but we guessed that they would charge equally pretty little prices. So we returned to our first port of call; the Restaurant Amelia Canta in the main square.
The Amelia Canta Resturant
ST EMILION – RESTAURANT AMELIA CANTA.
SO IT’S NOT IN THE TOP TEN – BUT IT’S VERY GOOD;
ALWAYS PACKED -AND IT’S AFFORDABLE
(We were watching our pennies; returning home from a long 10,000 MILE tour through Italy, Sicily and France).
This restaurant was always full in the three days (in late November) that we were in St Emilion. It was constantly lively; both indoors, and outside in the large courtyard. Best of all – it was used by a good proportion of locals. It had a wonderful, carefree atmosphere. Both the restaurant room and the courtyard outside were buzzing with happy chat and laughter – everyone clearly enjoying themselves.
Diners at the Amelia Canta Resturant
INSIDE AND OUT – THE AMELIA CANTA IS TYPICAL SOUTH OF FRANCE
Our Waitress
We found the food imaginative and of good quality – plus you could order glasses of quite good wines at reduced prices. We sampled several in this way before buying bottles from local traders.
I CALL THE YOUNGEST WAITRESS ‘BILLY WHIZZ’
Best of all – the waiting staff were all delightful; welcoming, always cheerful, despite being run off their feet giving good service to everyone. A Special Mention for the young waitress Alexandra (see pic.). She literally charged around as if rushing to a Rugby scrum. In one trip she was delivering food to one table, picking up dirties from another on her way back to pick up a bill, then seating people on her way to collect payment. She never muddled orders, was patient with boisterous children and always had a laugh and a joke. She merits an award!
Wandering the streets
ST EMILION – AN EXCEPTIONALLY BEAUTIFUL MEDIEVAL TOWN
St. Emilion is an exceptionally beautiful town in a country that excels in them. It is also one of the best-preserved mediaeval towns. In our opinion (determined by the extent of our travels) it is rivalled only by Sarlat-le-Canéda in this respect: (not so far away, in the Dordogne).
St Emilion boasts two grand old churches. One, in the main square, next to Amelia Canta, was built into the attractive golden rock. To our chagrin it seemed only parties of tourists could gain access. There are also the remains of a castle; the high tower commands sweeping views of the vast plain of vineyards all around.
ST EMILION – BUYING VERY GOOD AFFORDABLE WINE
Wandering the streets
We did not find time, and had not the money, to buy the very best vintages, so we did not get to explore the impressive and historic underground wine cellars beneath some shops – but the photographs showed them to be very beautiful.
ST EMILION – YOU CAN’T LEAVE WITHOUT WINE – FOLLOW THE LOCAL FRENCH RESIDENTS
We could not leave St Emilion without buying some of the local wine. There was not now any room in our car for much.
In the end we went down a side street to a small, private shop, which was selling bin-ends. We had noticed all the French bearing home baskets and bottles from it. Now, since we have sampled it, we are well pleased with our purchases. (We do not have the details; it does not appear, like the high-end wine shops, in the posh town guide. We suggest you treat yourself to a visit to the town and search for it yourselves – just follow the local residents! )
We discovered Les Baux quite by accident, as I’ll explain later.
23rd November:
Travelling along the Languedoc coast I said to Graham: ‘Do you realise this is my brother’s birthday?’
I hoped Trevor did not feel neglected because I had not sent a card. He had no idea I was in France. We had deliberately not mentioned our long trip anywhere on the Internet (except when booking, of course.) Just before we had left he was somewhere on the high seas on a cruise. We knew he had just moved to a new address (as then unknown to us).
MAKING FOR OUR FAVOURITE FRENCH B&B
We were happy to be on our way to Villelongue D’Cote Jardin; our top favourite French B&B. It is a very old farmhouse attached to the Abbaye deVillelongue, near St Martin le Vieil, in the AUDE region.
SET YOUR SATNAV TO NEAREST VILLAGE
We had long ago learned the hard lesson to set our SatNav to
ST MARTIN LE VIEIL, as there are many places in France called Villelongue.
WE SEARCH IN VAIN FOR THE OCHRE –
To reach Villelongue we took the toll road (A8,A7,D54,D24). The weather was changeable, and we did not feel recovered enough to do a long country journey. There were some nice autumn colours here and there, but the ground was mainly flat. I had, however, expressed a strong desire to stop for half an hour in some famous Ochre quarries I had heard of. They were close to the road off towards Orange, but not that far, according to a guidebook I’d been lent. I had scribbled some very hasty notes.
I SHOULD HAVE BEEN MORE CAREFUL
The road sign
I now told Graham ‘They’re in a place called Les Baux’. It’s just before the turn off for Orange’.
I perused like a hawk all the road signs we passed, but no Les Baux appeared, and no brown signs to ochre quarries. Not even on the turnoff to Orange. We seemed almost at Montpellier when in small letters ‘Les Baux’ appeared on a long list of motorway directions. Sighing at my insistence, Graham turned off onto the D27. That narrowing road seemed to go on for hours.
It led through two pretty and prosperous-looking villages. One was exceptionally attractive. Was it La Cazou – or (most probably) the other, called ‘Maussane-les-Alpelles’, that helped Graham perk up? Or maybe the third one, named La Remise?
NO ORANGE AND YELLOWMOUNTAINS
The slow journey seemed endless, and mostly rather boring. At last came a small roadsign with more directions to Les Baux. We drove down a narrow, straight road, with trees and buildings on our right.
“I wonder where these damn quarries are,’ I said gloomily. ‘We ought to be seeing yellow and orange mountains by now – I saw the pictures.’
‘We’ll, it’s only 1 kilometre now, so we may as well carry on,’ he answered.
LES BAUX – NO OCHRE – BUT WE FIND MAGIC
The road to Les Baux
I feared I’d get a lecture about wasting time when suddenly, the road ended in a track. Before us, out of the flat plain, loomed an enormous high, jagged white rock face resembling an almost symmetrical cone.
‘What on earth is that?’ he said.
‘It appears to have a window cut in it – but it’s so large – and why there? But it can’t be natural; it’s too perfect a shape.’ As we got closer the escarpment looked almost castle-like.
The answer came almost immediately. A white finger post pointed us to ‘Les Baux; bastion of Les Seigneurs & le Roi.’
LES BAUX – BASTION OF KINGS
‘Roi means royal,’ I said. ‘I do know that word, at least.’
‘And ‘bastion’ means something like castle, or stronghold’, said Graham.
We got back into our car and he drove up as far as he could, winding round the escarpment until we came to a flat parking space. I was happy to see some toilets built into the rock face. Ignoring the wind plucking at my cape I hobbled toward them, praying they would be open. Fortunately, I was lucky. (Sorry how often they crop up in this narrative; but believe me, when you reach a certain age…)
A Narrow Street in Les Baux
FREE TOILETS – FREE PARKING – BRITISH ATTRACTIONS TAKE NOTE!
Meanwhile, Graham had gone up to the small sentry-box affair to pay our fee, but was told all was free, presumably because of our Blue Badge – or maybe it was some local saint’s day?
We spent a pleasant hour or so relaxing over excellent coffee in a pretty café-bar, where I discovered that the most stupendous views were from the lavatory window. I told Graham it didn’t matter if he didn’t want to ‘go’; he must take his camera with him, and make sure to look at the baronial fireplace in the next room on the way!
LES BAUX IS WELL WORTH TURNING OFF TO – IT’S UNIQUE!
Lovers in a Narrow Street in Les Baux
Les Baux is simply amazing, and extremely beautiful. You can get some idea from Googling it on ‘images’ – but you really need to visit if you can. And walking around we found the window-space we’d seen from the road. It was simply immense and surrounded on the ‘inside’ with decorated carvings.
A Pyramid of Pots
LES BAUX HAS INTRIGUING AND PRETTY LITTLE SHOPS
All the way up we passed along narrow, cobbled streets of charming stone medieval houses, and were charmed into entering many of the interesting small shops. Embroideries, handmade soaps and perfumes from local flowers – cakes and other local food specialities. All were presented with that unique ‘panache’ the French are famous for. I’m afraid we looked a lot, but did not buy much. Cash was depleted at the end of our long holiday.
SIEGE ENGINES AND BIRDS OF PREY
Graham, though very interested, did not want to climb up to the top, as his foot was hurting. So he missed seeing the birds of prey, and the siege-engines we were later told about. My breath was running out; but I somehow discovered that I’d had the location of those ochre mines right, but not the name of the place! Anyway, it was a serendipitous mistake. We would not have missed Les Baux for the world.
LA COTE D’AZUR – WHAT A RIP-OFF – WE DIDN’T EVEN SEE THE SEA
To reach Brignoles, our destination for that night, the quickest way was on the A8 ‘Coast Highway for the Cote D’Azure’. I have decided that I hate that route; especially as it rained all the way. This toll road was lined by 1930’s 2-up-2-downs. We were charged upwards of three Euros when we passed by each of the Riviera towns from San Remo and Monte Carlo to Frejus, above San Tropez. There were about four of them as I recall, but they were not visible – no sight, nor even a sniff – of the desirable sea. We thought it a very unfair rip-off.)
HOTEL HIDDEN IN A CAR PARK
We had chosen Brignoles for our first overnight stop. Just because it was the first small town in France past all those exhausting tunnels above Genoa. Back in La Casa di Plinio in Pompei, Martina had hastily booked for us a night at an Ibis hotel, having heard they were cheap and good.
After much circling around and around an industrial park we eventually found the Ibis Hotel. It was hidden away next to a small slip road running by the toll road we would take in the morning. We were pleased to see armchairs in the lobby. All were occupied by young women sipping coffee, clustered around tiny tables.
A very pleasant, handsome Frenchman was running the place. When I showed him our booking form he told us we were not staying there –we had booked the ‘Ibis Budget’ hotel next door. I felt cheated, as I thought the price I’d paid (around £45 – though I may be mistaken) would have covered a room in the modest building we were standing in.
WE GET LOST – THEN HAVE TO LEARN A CODE
We searched high and low for the ‘Budget next door’ and in the end had to go back for Mine Host to point the way – obvious when you knew where to look!
He showed us how to tap in numbers on a machine to give us a card with OUR room Number. This would effect us entry into the secured front door, and later, our room. Nobody was manning the front desk. They would be in from seven pm until 10pm he said. He added ‘You can buy breakfast in the main hotel in the morning’.
We thanked him and I opened the front door for Graham to bring in our nightly backpacks. There was a drinks machine in the lobby, and one selling crisps and chocolate.
OUR ROOM WAS A PLEASANT SURPRISE
Hmm, I thought; but when we found our room we were pleasantly surprised. All white, small but very clean. It was well appointed, down to a hairdryer attached to the wall in the bathroom. Also, an ironing board and iron were in the tiny wardrobe. There was a good shower, adequate fluffy towels, and even a range of free toiletries. The bedside reading lamps worked, too – so not such a bad deal, after all. www.ibis.com/Brignoles
BRIGNOLES – A VERY ATTRACTIVE SMALL FRENCH TOWN
When we had washed and changed we emerged to find a very friendly girl at the front desk. She gave us directions into the nearby town, which we found very pleasant. It was raining, so we drove round for a bit before parking, then walking to the very attractive main square. It looked really ‘French’.
Light failing on wet pavements, Brignoles
A PRIEST TRIES TO DIRECT US
Here Graham stopped a priest and asked for a nice local French restaurant. The patient priest, huddling under his umbrella, kept trying to direct us to the ‘best Chinese in town’. I expect he was trying to help out the owner.
BRIGNOLES – A LOVELY AUTHENTIC FRENCH RESTAURANT.
However, I had seen an attractive small place in a back street,and remembered the way. We walked there and discovered an empty, rather dignified square right opposite. I waited while Graham walked to fetch the car and park there.
(It appears under Graham’s name, because I use his web page):
“It was sad that we were just getting over ‘flu and travelling slowly back to England when we found this charming restaurant in a side street. If we ever go back we will book a bedroom there, too – because their prices are very reasonable for a high standard of country living – French style.”
DELICIOUS FOOD IN LA HOTEL/RESTAURANT DE PROVENCE, BRIGNOLES.
I cannot now remember what we ate, but only that it looked attractive and tempting, and what we could manage to eat was delicious. It was, after all, the first full meal we’d ordered since catching ‘flu over two weeks previously. We had to apologise for the food left on our plate, and explained that it was in no way a shortcoming in the cooking. The hostess/waitress was very understanding. We left full of gratitude. Do try this pretty dining place.
(ADDRESS: Place du Palais de Justice, 83170, Brignoles, France. (phone: +33 4 94 6901 18)
The next day we visited Syracuse – city of living history. Principally because we love history, Central Syracuse impressed us the most of the whole island of Sicily. In truth – Syracuse (or ‘Siracusa’ as the Italians call it – and it is THEIR city) is a place so full of beauty, history and charm that we know we only touched the surface. If we are ever able to return to Sicilia we will make Siracusa our base.
SYRACUSE – FIRST THINGS FIRST – WE PARK IN THE BUSY HARBOUR
As I remember, it took a long time to traverse the road from the highway that led down to Syracuse. Like most early settlements, it was built by the sea. Following the signs to ‘Harbour Car Park’ we saw, as we got close, the spars of yachts and other boats, large and small. Then we entered a wide, clean street lined by smart hotels. We emerged by the most impressive: a quietly grand, pinky-terra-cotta building of some age. It took up the entire corner at the end of the horseshoe-shaped enclosed harbour.
Near the Harbour
Even more imposing was the ‘palazzo’ we could see beyond the large bridge spanning the river that disgorged into the sea. We parked, and strode into the small piazza where they sold tickets for boat trips. But we were both thirsty, and there was a tempting little bar facing the sea.
Cafe
SYRACUSEHARBOUR – AN EXCELLENT LITTLE BAR
A pretty, friendly girl served us with Peronis, while I admired the covered snacks that lined a long, covered ‘cooler’ counter. It was too early for lunch. Later, when we stopped at a place that gave us the ‘end of season’ treatment, I bitterly regretted that we had not gone back to that bar – but we did not wish to retrace our steps so early.
Cats attracted by a birdcage on a balcony
SYRACUSE – WE CLIMB NARROW OLD STREETS
There was quite a trek up narrow, winding streets of elegant, tall houses. I would guess them to be late eighteenth century – like our Georgian era. Cats hogged every patch of sun until frightened off by motorbikes. These roared down (and up) at fairly regular intervals, somehow dodging around us in the confined space. Then the cats would reclaim their patch of sun. Italian love of cats may be because they keep rats and mice at bay in these warm old towns. Every so often we would find ourselves in a small piazza, generally with a fountain in the centre. Some of these had stately and elaborate stone carvings as a base.
SYRACUSE – THE BEST THINGS ARE ALWAYS AT THE TOP
Emerging from the deep shadows of a narrow street we were lured by the airs of Vivaldi being expertly played on a guitar. As soon as our eyes adjusted to the brilliant sunlight, we found ourselves in a very large and elegant piazza. Graham was enchanted by the expertise of the romantic-looking, curly-haired young man who sat outside the cathedral, absorbed in his music. He was very talented indeed. After taking several photographs, and engaging in conversation, Graham asked permission to make a small video. After buying a CG, and exchanging email addresses (sadly mislaid since), Graham left a generous tip and we resumed exploring.
SYRACUSE DUOMO – UNIQUE IN BEAUTY AND HISTORY
The Duomo
We especially admired the Duomo (Cathedral). It had a very clean, elaborate, baroque frontage – all rosy-white. But the gasp factor came when we went inside and found ourselves in a vast, mainly empty space with pitted columns of enormous girth. We had to look right up to see the tops – so high was the ceiling. To our right, beyond the nave, we could discern many chapels hidden behind them.
A DAGGER IN HER THROAT.
One of the inner chapels was dedicated to St Lucia– one of the three patron saints of the city. There she stood, richly dressed in real clothes, with a large, fearsome dagger stuck in her neck. She gets regularly paraded like this throughout the city.
AN EARLY CONVERSION.
Inside the Duomo
We learned that the whole building is an early conversion, using parts of an ancient Greek temple to Athena. Indeed, on one side of the exterior you can see where the walls have been contrived. They were built in-between the ancient columns, still standing strong in their entirety.
SYRACUSE’S ANCIENT TREASURES – HIDDEN BENEATH THE BAROQUE.
We had to pay a small sum to enter. It was explained that our tickets also included the remains (next door, and below the level of the cathedral crypt) of a much older, (5000 year-old) temple to Artemis. She was the daughter of Zeus (chief god) and Leto. Artemis was Goddess of Hunting, like the Roman Diana. We also saw the few remains, below the Duomo, of the 5th-century BC great Greek Temple of Athena aforementioned, which had been ransacked to build the present cethedral above it. Archeological site excavations by Paolo Orsi in 1907-1910 show that Greek temple to have been built on even older foundations. They uncovered a wealth of archaic and pre-Hellenic artefacts. Many are held by the Museo archeologico regionale Paolo Orsi in Syracuse.
Part of the Old Temple
THE PLINTHS FOR THE SHATTERED COLUMNS STOOD HIGHER THAN ME
We had to approach the ruins of the older temple (to Artemis) through a rather scruffy, neglected garden. Some shallow steps led down until we finally stood at the bottom, on a wooden walkway. A marvel met our eyes: We appeared to be about three feet above the uneven floor level of an enormous chamber. The sheet of explanations stated that most of the pillars had been broken up or transported to build the temple to Athena that was the basis of the Duomo next door. Even so, I got down and stood on the base of one of the plinths upon which the original pillars were erected, and the square block of stone reached to above my head.
5,000-YEAR-OLD SPECIAL SEATS REVIVE OLD MEMORIES
As we progressed along the walkway more marvels emerged. Namely. a glass-covered relief model of the original layout, and then an intact row of stone latrines. They reminded me of the old ‘karsies at the bottom of the garden’ that I had to use each time I was evacuated to the country as a child. (I wondered if those very, very Ancient Greeks had the equivalent of little squares of newsprint strung on gut dangling down beside them…) These were grander, as they had armrests carved between each hole. I had a vision of Greek worthies sitting solemnly reading their scrolls like Mr Bridger in ‘The Italian Job’.
The Latrines
WE DISCOVER THE BACK HARBOUR (ORTIGIA ISLAND)
By that time we were quite thirsty, but we took that stroll round the back of the headland, and found a completely different harbour from the one we had first encountered. There was a feeling of it being much as it would have been in the Renaissance, with sailing ships pulling up to disgorge cargo into the smaller warehouses that lined the long sweep of the quay.
Syracuse harbour
HUNDREDS OF PHOTOS – SPECIAL MEMORIES
Graham has many, many photos of this wonderful ancient city. Its old side streets captivated him, as well as the grand squares with their fountains. Below is a taster of the many ‘quiet corners’ where people live their lives, relatively undisturbed by tourists.
A Quiet Corner
A Cartouche
HIDDEN FROM TOURIST EYES
While in that area we explored some other, lesser-known towns inland, and closer to Mount Etna. Most of these betrayed the very real poverty Sicily is still suffering. We got curious stares as we entered one town where we had to turn around because the road leading out from the main square and down the mountain had completely collapsed, right in front of a house! We felt great empathy for these struggling people, and could not help wondering why more of the riches culled from tourists like us could not be shared to improve the lot of these inner, less-penetrated towns and villages.
Sicily is a beautiful island, where we stayed in four private B&B’s.
We spent a week in this much-serenaded island. As well as its charismatic coast and colourful towns, Sicily has many ancient Greek ruins. (We came across a complete Greek temple, all on its own on a hill – magnificent!)
DAYS 1 -3: (5th-7th November.)
‘SICILY IN LOVE’ OUR B&B IN TRIPOTELLO – WE LOVE IT
We stayed for our first three nights at ‘Sicily in Love’, in Tripotello. We had half a well-equipped, attractive holiday flat. (The other rooms were locked, but we had a kitchen and bedsit with a very good shower room with toiletries. Several cupboards gave ample storage.)
FRESHLY-MADE BREAD AND LEAF TEA FOR BREAKFAST
The friendly and helpful hostess was always there at breakfast to dispense fragrant fresh coffee (or leaf tea) however you liked it. She stayed to cut the still-warm crusty bread she made every morning. Unusually for Italy, there was always a selection of meats and fresh fruits, cereals and yoghourts as well as her home made cakes and pies. Something for everyone, from wherever in the world. Terms there are surprisingly cheap.
Mount Etna with smoke and snow
SICILY IN LOVE HAS A GREAT VIEW OF MOUNT ETNA
Another happy feature of our stopover was the short walk up the road to overlook Mount Etna. It looked surprisingly close (because so enormous a volcanic mountain.)
Another short walk, descending through steps and a footpath, took us into Tripotello itself, which had some lovely little shops. The only drawback was the narrow pavement each side of the very busy main road.
We highly recommend:
Sicily in Love, Via Degli Ulivi3, 98039,Taormina,Italy. 003 93 66 818 2134/+ website.
TRIPOTELLO – ‘EL FEUDO’ – APTLY NAMED
Our nice landlady suggested we eat at El Feudo restaurant down the road, and gave us their card. It took a little finding, but looked very impressive (and rather expensive). It stood on a hillock amid very well kept and extensive gardens. We went in, anxious to try the famous Sicilian food we had read about so often. It was a large, attractive room, and the tables were a mixture of the very long, and 2 and 4 seaters. All were laid with good linen and glassware, etc.
EL FEUDO – ‘WAITING’ WAITERS
We were in an almost empty restaurant. We did not mind, except that, bewilderingly, we were just left and left while the headwaiter lounged around, chatting to his staff. At last the sommelier came over and was curt in the extreme. We were told we could only order pizza as they were expecting a large party.
EL FEUDO – GRAHAM’S DINNER IN HIS LAP
The next night we arrived at just past 8pm and ordered a full meal. The service was unnecessarily slow. When it did come the plates were slammed down in front of us (a plate of spaghetti in a tomato sauce landed in my husband’s lap.) Our plates held nothing like the attractive food other people on the large party tables were getting. We could not understand why, as we always make a point of being friendly and polite.
El FEUDO – ONLY WANT LARGE PARTIES?
When we came to pay, the owner of the restaurant was taking the cash. He asked ‘Did you enjoy your meal?’ So my husband explained how it had been ruined by deliberately rude service. The owner just shrugged. Our conclusion was that this restaurant was only interested in taking large parties and found it an inconvenience to serve couples. In our view, small parties would be wise to Give it a wide berth.
TAORMINA.
6TH November:
TAORMINA – YOU WIND AROUND TO THE TOP – AND THEN SOME
Whilst in the area we visited Taormina, which is altogether delightful – and so a tourist-trap. It was busy enough even in early November. One can only imagine what it’s like at the height of the season if you wished to leisurely explore. The top town, the old bit, has to be reached by a special bus after you have already wound your car round the corkscrew mountain. We had to park our car and with other visitors, wait for the bus to take us to the main square. This was predictably full of tourist shops.
Tourists in Taormina
TAORMINA – ARABS, ARTISTIC SWEETS & ANCIENT GREEKS.
Majolica Ware
Taormina Old Town is very attractive and colourful, with many shops selling majolica ware – not least the dramatic ‘Arab’ and ‘Royal’ heads in bright colours. They look great adorning garden steps in the area – but we declined from buying one to bring home. We knew all too well how many of these local delights can look really tawdry back in grey old England… Besides, they were understandably not cheap.
We did buy many gifts, though, at an extremely posh confectioners’ selling the most amazing sculptures of all sizes in chocolate and marzipan…
WE ADMIRE SOME ‘HIGH CLASS’ SOUVENIRS
Even in November people were shuffling past doorways surrounded with colourful large platters. Shop windows were stuffed with copies of ancient amphora, Greek jugs and the like. And always those Arabic or King and Queen ‘heads’, from tiny little ones to fit into a backpack or suitcase, right up to twice life size. Some were garish and horrible – proper ‘Tourist souvenirs’. But there were some very stylish ones in highly polished jet black – or ditto white – and others that had been exquisitely hand-painted. I must say, I was very tempted at times, but Graham has a horror of being thought ‘cheap’. We certainly could not afford the most artistic versions. Many sell for well over €2,000.
We turned from the shops and joined the throng pushing through the archway to the ‘Citta Antica’. Our little crowd was immediately transported to an enchanted, timeless world.
TAORMINA – A LAND OF ROMANCE – OR A HOLLYWOOD FILM SET?
We still had to climb, sometimes by steps, but there were always pretty little streets off to our right. Many ended in distant vistas. Suddenly, through an archway just to our left, a flight of steps led down into quite a large, hidden Roman garden.
Roman wall and Garden in Taormina
Bougainvillea in Taormina
TAORMINA – A MOST ARTISTIC FLIGHT OF STEPS
We stopped to admire this short street of pretty, small hotels, their balconies dripping greenery. One at the end was almost obscured by abundant bougainvillea.
Then we ascended a truly artistic flight of grey stone steps. At intervals were platforms where exotic palms and the like were planted in square parterres. These spaces were interspersed with seats, and drinking fountains that had ancient faces carved on them. I rested while Graham took photographs. We passed little side roads with many attractive restaurants. Looking down the narrow, cobbled ways we enjoyed the views out across the bay that seem to appear wherever you walk. Very touristy, even in November, but truly beautiful.
Steps up to the top of Taormina
Then we had still more climbing, having to sadly resist the eager waiters standing at the top of each winding lane, trying to tempt us to their restaurant. I felt so mean to keep saying ‘No’ to each in turn… At last we were in a street practically at the top. Some really tempting shops this time, and then street stalls selling favours and souvenirs outside the entrance to the Ancient Greek Theatre.
Faun
Amphitheatre at Taormina
Amphitheatre at Taormina
TAORMINA GREEK THEATRE – FREE ON SUNDAYS
Wondering how much it would cost we approached the ticket booth, to be told ‘It is Sunday – so is free’. This often happens in Italy, but our itinerary does not allow us to be mean foreigners, and plan all our visits this way.
TAORMINA GREEK THEATRE – BACKDROP FRAMES AN ENTIRE COASTLINE
The highlight of that day’s trip was this ancient Greek theatre right on top of the mountain. Superb views of the coast are framed by the pillars that had been part of the backdrop of the apron-style stage. I wonder if you can still see ‘Antigoni of Thebes’ and the other Ancient Greek Classics performed there, as they undoubtedly were, 2,500 years ago.
TAORMINA GREEK THEATRE INTACT – STILL IN USE REGULARLY
It was, surprisingly, a very large, wide stage. One could imagine crowd scenes and dances being performed. All the semicircular seating is still there, in good condition. We also saw into the dressing rooms. The acoustics were amazing. You could quite easily make out the chatter of people the other side of the very large arena.
Amphitheatre at Taormina
TAORMINA GREEK THEATRE – SIT WITH GHOSTS
I was aware of covering ground where Ancient Greeks trod two thousand four hundred years ago. Looking up, I saw that day’s crowd filing along the top to descend. Many took a rest, sitting in the very tiers that would have been filled with enthusiastic, cheering people draped in togas and cloaks. I could almost, ALMOST see their ghosts, and those of the Romans who followed them … ***
There is a most attractive ‘crystal’ hotel as you leave the theatre. It has a leafy garden and must command superlative views. It looked rather expensive, as you’d expect. I’m afraid Graham had to drag me away from looking down at the smart people entering through the glass corridor. I was hungry, and wistfully wondered what it would be like to sit in the transparent dining room. It was all windows. They overlooked that fabulous coastline far below. It stretched to the level-appearing horizon.
BILLY BUNTER’S HEAVEN – WE BUY FANCY SWEETS FOR LITTLE FRIENDS
We walked along past the stalls until we found ourselves in the ‘top street’. It was full of shops selling high-class ceramics and fashionable clothes. I insisted on looking in every window, until we found ourselves in front of a very special confectioners’ shop that we had passed previously. I cannot remember the name of this very classy shop, except that the exterior framing the windows was dark blue, like the smart little bags our purchases were placed in.
View from Taormina
Apart from the finely-detailed little baskets of marzipan fruits we bought for the kids there were amazing, large sculptures in chocolate. Also, ‘Hansel and Gretel’ houses fashioned from a mixture of sweets. I wished I could have come here as a greedy child… All I can give you is this website to provide you with a clue:
To get back to the large piazza where the bus would come to take us back to our car would take about twenty minutes of leisurely walking. On the way we passed an artist displaying life-size cut-outs of tourists who eagerly posed for him. We decided that we would have no use for effigies of ourselves!
We were tired when we got back to our B&B, and still had not seen all the sights of Taormina – but we were glad we had spent a day in this very colourful, uniquely Sicilian resort – and thankful that it was out-of-season!
We were going on a ‘drive of discovery’ when, close to Tricarico, we happened on this restaurant at 2pm on All Saints Day – another Bank Holiday. We were hungry, but expected to find the door locked.
Not a bit of it! The first thing that caught my eye was the strange headdresses hanging on the wall. Multi-coloured ribbon streamers hung from one; the other was black. Nearby a log fire was blazing in the large grate, and even at this time of day, two or three tables were occupied.
WE GET A COUNTRY WELCOME!
Everyone looked up and gave us ‘Buon Giorno’, and the son of the house hurried to welcome us. He offered us a table near the fire, but we thought that might be too hot. So he placed us near some rapidly filling tables in the middle of the room.
SURELY A LOCAL RITE LOST IN ANTIQUITY
Carnevale delle Maschere
We asked him about those long-ribboned headdresses.
‘Ah,’ he said. ‘Those are my father’s and mine. We wore them for the Carnevale delle Maschere, Tricarico. My father was all in black, with the red streamers. He represented the bull. I was the cow.’ Seeing our puzzled faces, he quickly explained – though by now the other local customers were anxious to add their bit.
It seems that sometime in January comes the day dedicated to the patron saint of animals. Local people take their animals (many adorned with beads and necklaces) to pass round the local church three times. The animals then enter to be blessed. Well, we have something similar in Britain – but not like this. I hope I’ve remembered this aright –
‘The old town is awoken at dawn by ‘low’ bells: The same service is provided by drums and clashing wooden battens. There follows a procession of men dressed from head to toe in white or black – women are forbidden.’ he continued.
‘The men in black wear the black headdresses with scarlet streamers down to their feet. They represent bulls. Those in white wear multi-coloured streamers – they are the cows. They all shake cow bells as they walk, as do the animals awaiting blessing, as bells are hung to their harnesses.’
It seems they are presently joined by the townspeople. At intervals there is a ritual ‘fertility dance’ between cows and bulls, with an enactment of the inevitable outcome. Rude humour indeed.
This sounds very primitive indeed – and reminded us of our English maypoles and Morris men. One wonders just how universal these old rites are – and just how old?
The festival lasts several days, but the procession of ‘masks’ is repeated on the Sunday, when the procession climbs up to a chapel ‘at the top of the mountain’. I cannot be sure, but it seems logical that is where the animals are blessed. There are feasts also – but when was not made clear.
‘Do you know that Tricarico is placed on a ‘transhumance’ route?’ A man in the far corner piped up. His English was good. ‘Which means,’ he continued, ‘that in the proper time and place animals and men can change into each other – and back again?’
‘That doesn’t surprise me,’ quipped another, and they all joked in Italian.
‘Because of this custom Tricarico,’ Our informant resumed, somewhat importantly, ‘–and its masks, in 2009 became part of the European Federation of Carnival Cities. It is a founding member of the Southern Italy Carnival Network.’
Antipasti
A TRULY LOCAL, RUSTIC MENU
Suddenly, we all became aware of filling tables. The son of the house quickly handed us a menu and moved on.
The menu he handed us was not large – but boy, it was tempting. Hard to choose…
After a ‘lagniappe welcome’ of buffalo mozzarella whipped with chopped hazelnuts (or was it walnuts?) we each then enjoyed a very nice, generous starter. Graham was delighted with the quality of the varied antipasti; he particularly enjoys a slice of good, paper-thin braesola, and there was plenty of that for him.
Carving the Boar
WILD BOAR – FOOD FOR THE GODS
Next we shared a mixed salad, and then were served with beautifully cooked wild boar meat and porcini. (We both chose the same because there should be a poem written about this dish – oh boy!).
A HIDDEN GEM WELL WORTH FINDING
We cannot remember if we had desserts – we were probably too stuffed. We still somewhere have the receipt for this feast, and it was amazingly low-priced. A hidden gem – do find it if you are travelling that way – and it’s a beautiful drive on the top road leading to Tricarico. _Ristoro_della_Civita-Tricarico_
Turbines by the roadside
A SHORT WALK YIELDS PHOTOGRAPHS
After coming out of the restaurant we headed down a side road for a way. I had pointed out to Graham the satisfying curve made by the very tall wind turbines that had been installed – rather incongruously, on that lonely road. Even so, those stark vertical lines sweetly curving on the edge of a seeming precipice (for the ‘view’ was set well back behind them, across an invisible divide) made an arresting contrast.
A CRUMBLING BEAUTY
Masseria
While Graham trotted off with his camera, I dove down a steep, short track, and was soon rewarded by the charm of a dilapidated but once-gracious masseria. It looked to be a few centuries old, but that may have been the effect of decay.
I went to join Graham and told him of my find, and when he was satisfied with his photo shots he followed me to my vantage point. Equally enthusiastic, he took a few photos, but said he was by no means certain that the place was empty, as I had assumed. He pointed to a TV aerial on the roof. Being British, we were relieved that nobody came out of the house and spotted our interest. So fond are we of this old building that we make no apologies if it has already appeared on another blog. We think it bears a second viewing…
Lone Tree
SO OFTEN TOMORROW NEVER COMES…
Afterwards, we completed the short ‘new’ road into Tricarico, and this time became aware that just up from the square, behind all the parked cars, there was a complete medieval city. However, the sky was darkening, and there were spots of rain, and the narrow, grey streets looked dauntingly steep to me. So we left it ‘for later’. As so often, that ‘later’ never came. We never learn…
There was so much more Matera to explore. This was the day we went back to do just that, and Graham bought a piece of art. We’d both been going back to admire it ever since we took that ‘taxi’ trip around the Sassi with Lolly. (Click here to take you to the taxi blog)
We’d been walking around after Andrea the Sassi-taxi driver had said his friendly farewell that day. Just off one of the upper squares of ‘old’ Matera we came across this pottery and ceramic studio. In the window were ceramic ‘Lord of the Rings’ type pieces. These were colourful and intricately worked by the young man at the desk:-Raffaele Pentasuglia at Studio D’Arte Raffaele Pentasuglia
But it was a collection of plain terra-cotta studies that drew us both.
MORE MATERA – ‘AS IT ONCE WAS’
“They are my father’s work,” the young man said. “They are mostly about characters who used to live in the Sassi. That’s where he lived until they cleared everyone out.”
I loved the group of musicians – so faithfully depicted; so lifelike – but they were 150 euros each. I felt you needed at least three. Too much to plunder from our holiday budget!
Donkey sculpture
MORE MATERA – MEMORIES OF WORKING WITH A DONKEY
Then – at the back of the studio – I saw the terra-cotta model of a couple on a donkey. Weary from working in the fields, the man sat in front, with the saddlebag holding a bottle. Behind him, his wife clung on. A bundle of twigs was strapped to her back, and another of the durum wheat from which they make the delicious Matera bread. The donkey looked tired, too; patiently climbing over cobbles.
Donkey sculpture
“Oh, Graham – I love this.”
“How much?” he had asked warily. It was 200 euros – but clearly worth it. With a few strokes and pits, the expressions were on the faces. The donkey looked so alive; about to step forward off its base. But our holiday money had to last.
WE MEET THE SCULPTOR – AND ENJOY IMMEDIATE RAPPORT
So we looked in on it from time to time, and I think nobody was more surprised than that young
Donkey sculpture
man when we bought it.
“It’s for our wedding anniversary as well as your birthday,” said Graham.
A bonus for us: The father, who had sculpted our new acquisition, was in the studio that day. I was able to take both his hands and thank him. His son translated that the piece would be treasured. It would always remind us of the Sassi of Matera, and its story.
“Mi mamma e papa,” the father said, indicating the subjects. “And Pepino our donkey. He was an essential member of our family.”
Their likenesses now hold pride of place on our mantelpiece.
MORE MATERA SOUVENIRS
Also that day we bought a few modest souvenirs of good quality, and had a very good authentic local lunch in a small ristorante at the top of the Sassi. We chose it because it was full of locals – and oh, how we enjoyed this simple food cooked with flair. The place was called Al Falco Grillaio on the Via San Biagio. I remember that it was very affordable.
Al Falco Grillaio
LEVI’S PENTAPTYCH PAINTING:
MORE MATERA – LOCAL LANDSCAPE – SHAMING SASSI – ROUSING RANT
Then we went into the Museo Nazionale d’Arte Medievale e Moderna della Basilicata Palazzo Lanfranchi – and were rewarded by confronting the very famous, enormous five-panelled painting by Carlo Levi himself. It demonstrated very acutely how life had been in the Sassi, and the living conditions of its starving inhabitants.
In the first picture we saw a white-faced, thin, tired mother and her many children crammed into their cave-room. They were almost swamped amongst other ragged inhabitants. The next panel showed a doctor (Carlo Levi’s sister, apparently) injecting children outside their dwellings. The scene shifted to a mother and child returning home on a laden donkey. Her toil-aged husband was walking by their side through the bare clay hills, which at that time formed most of Basilicata. The fourth, much livelier painting had a red-haired young man exhorting a crowd to form a union, or something of the sort. The background is clearly the town square of Levi’s ‘Gagliano’. It made me determined to track this place down and visit it. Last of all were some grey figures that almost melted and disappeared into the bare strata of rock and clay behind them.
The paintings, though loose and free in style, were incredibly evocative of the people and places they depicted.
Here is a link to a youtube video:- Il dipinto “Lucania ’61” di Carlo Levi, a Matera – Storie Enogastronomiche Published on 26 Apr 2018. Graham took individual photos but feels the video he has left a link to will give you a far better feel to the painting.
Model superimposed on Matera’s unrestored buildings
If it rains on your holiday in Italy, do not be put off! Here is what happened when my bad leg was nearly healed and we took off one gloomy morning. It got worse; heavy skies, pelting rain. But it turned out to bring us some of our best memories of our three-month slow tour.
WE KITTEN-SIT
One of the many Kittens
We had not yet visited Salandra or Stigliano.
I was still recovering from my leg, but tired of staying in bed. Giuseppe had to go to Rome on business. He stayed with his brother, no doubt.
So we were left to care for the kittens (seven now, with two ‘new’ babies) and ‘the Dog’. He was Nero to us, though by now Elena had named him Bruno. He answered readily to both names.
Basically a sweet-natured animal, he was totally confused by being love-starved. (And quite often food-starved as well, I suspect, when Giuseppe stayed away for days at a time). As our gentlemanly, genial host repeatedly explained, ‘This is a farm, and I need an alert guard dog to protect the property.’ We have to accept that even in our country some farmers take this view – and without being a farmer one cannot question that its validity.
Ce La Vie! Autumn approached. It felt very cold one morning at 15C. I wondered, ‘how are we going to cope with December at home?’
RAINY DAY – FINDING LOCAL COLOUR FOR A CRIME NOVEL
While I was laid up Graham was getting on nicely with writing a crime story about a lovable, fat Italian Detective Inspector. He found plentiful material in the area to provide ‘colour’. As well as the regional food there are boar, wolves and deer in the woods and around the lake, where we came across a snake (off-putting). Boar and even wolves I can just about walk amongst, but snakes…
Lago San Guiliano
RAINY DAY WALK BY THE LAKE
About Lago Giuliano: it was a reservoir for Matera, and had been built in the 1950’s.
One day we decided to brave the wolves, despite Giuseppe’s insistence that they had already moved down in this comparatively warm weather at the end of October. Our scepticism grew when he added bears to the list when talking to me; just how gullible does he think I am?
One of my first outings in the support stockings was to explore this tourist attraction nearby. Not for its boats and swimming (at least not when we went down – everything was closed). We went for the peace and the guided wildlife walks. On our second visit, when I could walk further, we went there expressly to use their services but we found the Wildlife Centre also closed. However, we saw plenty of flora and fauna to interest us.
RAINY DAY WOODS – WHAT NO WOLVES? – WEASELS INSTEAD
It was not really raining on THAT day – just a brief shower.
Lake Giuliano is not a very large lake, but it is very beautiful. There is a road right around it, so we moved off after mooching around in the woods at our end. We spotted many attractive birds, even egrets. Further on we stopped to admire a little island. We caught swift movement in the bushes. We worried – a fearsome boar? A wolf perhaps? But no – we kept still; the creature emerged – a weasel.
We got back in the car and found a rusty but attractive sign for a restaurant. The wide gates just off the road were open, so we drove up until we found some more, larger gates – locked this time.
Through them we could see an attractive complex, with the restaurant at its centre. I looked up the place on the Internet and it appears very pleasing; a sort of holiday village as well as the restaurant. The name of the place bears out some of Giuseppe’s claims; it is called
Agriturismo Tenuta la Volpe, which translates into Farmhouse Estate of the Fox.
GRAHAM IS GIVEN A GIFT
Graham was doing all the shopping in Miglionico. On one such visit he obtained for my cousin Clive a nice piece of olive root with twisted markings: Vincenzo, who had inherited some very small, old olive groves, found it and gave it to him.
He took Graham to his house and his family ‘cave’, deep beneath. It is a storeroom full of old farm implements and other fascinating stuff. Graham values this new fast-formed friendship, and has a great respect for Vincenzo, who is very kind and courteous.
23rd October:
RAINY DAY EXCURSION – DEFYING DOCTOR’S ORDERS
Our highly enjoyable visits to Salandra and Stigliano happened this way:
That morning, we did a big laundry wash. After giving Graham time to put in an hour or two on his writing, we opted to ignore the doctor’s orders for me to stay in bed. Life was too short!
Instead, despite threatening rain, we decided to venture again into the nearby Regional Park of Gallipoli. We would take a roundabout route I’d printed back in England. (I was pretty sure we’d find where those two chaps on the telly went to see ‘the best’ boar sausages made).
Regional Park of Gallipoli
SALANDRA & STIGLIANO – A CHANGE OF PLAN
Finding Salandra was a case of Serendipity.
Our Rainy Day tour started like this:
Graham noticed that we had already been to two of the places on my previously planned route. So I modified it. It was Graham’s turn reading the book ‘Christ Stopped at Eboli’. He was currently learning about Stigliano in the 1930s. So we chose to go there instead.
RAINY DAY IN SALANDRA
Chiesa di Sant Antonio
We stopped first in Salandra, a charming and very clean little town. Apart from the very old building housing the municipal records we did not see much evidence of a ‘Citta Mediaevale’. Perhaps there had been an earthquake, or it had been razed in the wars. Or perhaps we completely missed an old part, which would have been in the true centre.
WE MISS THE ‘CITTA STORICA’
We walked round a few short streets behind the modern church, but could see no sign of a ‘Citta ‘Storica’. Knowing Basilicata, we feel we may well have been quite mistaken. Unfortunately, we met nobody with any knowledge of English sufficient to understand our enquiries.
But it was a pretty town for all that. We were immediately given a welcome upon getting out of our car, and presented with a sheaf of booklets on the area (sadly, all in Italian.) We guessed that Salandra was not on the main ‘tourist route’, but we found it charming. There was an attractive, modern looking church overlooking a large, paved piazza (Chiesa di San Rocco 2 pictures below). A stall set up in the square was selling nuts.
The Nut Seller
RAINY DAY SURPRISE –
SALANDRA’S SPECIALITY – WE BUY NUTS
Nuts of every kind and quality and all picked in this region. So – we bought Christmas walnuts for many of our relatives. They were fresh off the tree. The vendor broke one open for us to taste the crisp, creamy flesh.
We also bought pistachios (we decided to eat those before they ‘went off’). Also three kinds of almonds, and a great bag of uncooked peanuts. Graham loves them. I imagined the dog, Nero, might like to help him out. The chickens could tackle the shells.
There was general hearty laughter when a cheeky local resident disappeared and came back with a tiny bag of nuts for which he wanted 6 euros. Even the stallholder joined in, as he tipped generous amounts of his beautiful shelled almonds into our bags. Everybody was very friendly, as you find in the South. Especially so in the sparkling little bar, where we had Kaffé Machiata and some delicious pastries.
Chiesa di San Rocco
Main Piazza with the Medieval Town Hall
STIGLIANO
RAINY DAY – WE FIND A REFUGE
Then, despite spits of rain, it was off to Stigliano. We drove through the Little Dolomites, as this range of relatively small mountains is called. The lower slopes and valleys are bright green with grass and trees; unusual for Basilicata as a whole.
In a lull in the rain we spotted this once grand, deserted Masseria. Graham grabbed his camera and hopped out of the car. The road was empty, so I followed him up the track. A screech made me look up. Circling high above were two graceful predators – red kites. Graham was lucky to capture one in his shot.
Abandoned Masseria
Up and up we went after returning to the car. We negotiated hairpin bends and chestnut forests, to tiny Garaguso. Then close by we found SanMauro Forte. Graham ignored my pleas to explore this small citadel. (“We’ll never get anything to eat here, and it’s almost two o’clock”).
As rain started to fall heavily, we at last swept down and entered Stigliano.
Stigliano
STIGLIANO: A HOTEL AT THE BOTTOM OF THE HILL
We passed a hotel at the bottom of the hill. It appeared to be closed (and in any case might be too expensive). So we toured the streets a little, looking for an alternative place for lunch. The rain increased, and this did nothing for Stigliano. The grey stone buildings were all shuttered and bare. To us, with our growling bellies, the town looked dismal indeed.
STIGLIANO SEEMS A DESERTED TOWN – ON SUNDAYS
We were wondering at the ‘deserted’ look of Stigliano until we remembered it must be Sunday. (You lose track of days on a long holiday). At last we saw a van coming down a side road. Graham deliberately blocked it, to ask the driver where we could get something to eat. He said the only place where we ‘might be lucky at this hour’ was in the hotel we had passed. He assured us it was open even though by now it was nearly 3pm.
RAINY DAY RACING – BACK TO THE HOTEL
This time we approached it from a different angle; from the back. We saw a waiter fetching chairs in from the covered terrace. Graham stopped the car and I raced through heavy rain, crossing the road to intercept him. Yes, certainly they were open; we could still have lunch.
Gratefully, we followed him in the back way, past the ‘facilities’.
RAINY DAY SURPRISE
We trooped, mud on our trainers, into a beautiful light and airy room done out in cream. It had many elegantly laid tables. About four were occupied. A very long one took up one whole wall, to accommodate a happy, chattering family party. You see this everywhere in Italy. Italians love to meet up with their extended families – and eat together.
WE GATECRASH A BIRTHDAY PARTY.
THAT ONE WAITER was kept very busy indeed serving about thirty people in all. There was a young lady at one end of the long, cheerful table. She lifted her short cape and started discreetly breastfeeding an extremely young baby. Of course, that was when the waiter came in with a stack of plates to put before each person in that party. Then he and the owner/manager came through with platter after platter of gorgeously arranged seafood, salad, and the selection of cured meats called ‘Antipasti Misti’.
RAINY DAY FEAST FOR TWO:
GRAHAM’S ‘BEST BRAESOLA’ – MY SHRIMP AND ORANGE SALAD
He ran back and returned with our Antipasti. Graham enjoyed some of the best braesola he’s had in Italy (air-dried beef cut very thin). It came on a bed of rocket, and was sprinkled with thin shavings of parmisana. I had a salad with shrimp (prawns) AND would you believe, thin slices of peeled orange, served on a bed of rocket and tiny lambs’ ears. It was sprinkled with corn kernels, and drizzled artistically with balsamic vinegar. Delicioso! Good Matera bread and Vino Rossa la di Casa (house red – just a small half-carafe).
TAJARIN ALL’UOVO – VERY SPECIAL PASTA
Graham then was served with very thin, spaghetti-type pasta, made rich with many eggs (Tajarin All’Uovo’). It was smothered with porcini – the most prized mushrooms, and by far the most ‘mushroomy’. I had Agni something – I knew that was lamb. It proved to be four thin but tender lamb cutlets accompanied by a large plate of cooked spinach, (bright green and delicious). Also potatoes boiled, cut into wedges, and then fried in olive oil. Not quite chips, but both tender and crisp.
I AM CORRECTED
Meanwhile, the jollity level at the big table was rising. When glasses were raised in a toast we held up ours and said ‘To il Bambino!’ (Though when the mother passed, on her way to change the baby she gently explained that it was un Bambin-a; a girl.
WE ARE INVITED TO JOIN IN THE ‘BUBBLY’ BIRTHDAY TOAST
Nevertheless, our toast was well received. We were slightly embarrassed, though, when one of the gents came over and said in good English ‘Actually it’s my 50th birthday.’ So we congratulated him and offered a glass of our wine, but he was obviously drinking much better stuff.
We had not yet ordered dessert. Indeed, were discussing whether we really had room for it, when the owner/manager came bustling in bearing a very large box. This could only contain a birthday cake. He set it down on a small extension-table, took out the cake and lit candles.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY IN TWO LANGUAGES
The guests then all clustered around the host, who was holding aloft a large silver cake-knife. We looked on and just as they were about to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ in Italian, Mr 50th Birthday beckoned the waiter. He asked him to place two champagne flutes by us. He himself came over and filled them with bubbly. Then we were brought generous slices of the cake, in time to join in (in English) the singing of ‘Happy Birthday’. (The rest sang it in Italian). They followed this with a much jollier Italian birthday song.
We will never forget that lunch, made special by being included in that family’s private celebrations. Perhaps it does happen in Britain, but I feel it would be much more remarkable than amongst warm-hearted Italians.
Indeed, during the next weekend we would twice be celebrating with Italian families our own 40th Wedding Anniversary. Watch this space!
