tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21434775924431116792024-03-13T20:14:19.728+01:00Italian NotesItalian Noteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12245223175183933299noreply@blogger.comBlogger162125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2143477592443111679.post-59025697126196569312010-11-29T09:45:00.003+01:002010-12-16T10:39:29.686+01:00New Italian Notes<a href="http://italiannotes.com/wordpress/">Click here to be redirected to the new blog.</a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SvM5NBjQfwc/TPNoZRSezSI/AAAAAAAAA6g/umw4KfXBEdE/s1600/Untitled-2%2Bcopy.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 252px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SvM5NBjQfwc/TPNoZRSezSI/AAAAAAAAA6g/umw4KfXBEdE/s400/Untitled-2%2Bcopy.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5544890349570149666" /></a><br />Italian Notes has moved to <a href="http://italiannotes.com/wordpress/">italiannnotes.com</a>Italian Noteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12245223175183933299noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2143477592443111679.post-76153666253084915452010-10-25T16:12:00.004+02:002010-10-25T16:19:38.657+02:00The beauty of Bari<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SvM5NBjQfwc/TMWRh_LBVWI/AAAAAAAAA6A/ShB7P3n-4_w/s1600/Italian+notes-29.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 269px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SvM5NBjQfwc/TMWRh_LBVWI/AAAAAAAAA6A/ShB7P3n-4_w/s400/Italian+notes-29.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531987730373891426" /></a><br />Like many other south Italian cities, Bari represents at least a two-in-one discovery. There is the commercial centre, Murattiano, which Napoleon’s brother-in-law Joachim Murat laid out with a ruler, and where the Mussolini era has left its mark with a series of sinister, pretentious buildings; and there’s Bari Vecchia - the small white historic town on a peninsula with more than 120 mysterious shrines, lively piazzas and old, erratic, get-lost alleyways that protect the inhabitants from the wind and the sun.<br /><br />All time tourist favourites are the two Medieval castles, Romanesque churches and the holy relics, but the Puglian capital also stands out as a hot spot for shopping, music and being.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Sights</span><br /><a href="http://www.sannicandronline.it/castello/main.php">Castello Svevo</a>, dating back to the 10th century and reconstructed by Frederick II 200 years later, is one of the first things you’ll notice when entering Bari from the north. Around 1220 the trapezoid defensive structure with moat and corner towers housed the Holy Roman Emperor’s court including Saracens, scientists, astrologers, hawks, leopards and the famous elephant. According to an inscription on a wall within the castle, this was where beggar monk San Francesco was severely tempted by a sensual young girl, whom he frightened off with a piece of burning coal. Today Medieval monks and knights in shining armour have been replaced by two old-age-pensioners selling tickets to the rather boring Gipsoteca within. <br /><br />Fortino di Sant’Antonio Abate guards the eastern corner of Bari Vecchia against pirates from the sea. The building dates back to the 15th century and it was named after the saint of domestic animals, who has a chapel in the hallway that can only be visited on January 17th.<br /><br />Cattedrale di San Sabino is one of 40 churches crammed into the relative small area of Bari Vecchia, and it is a prominent and admired example of the Romanesque style in Puglia. The unembellished, white exterior is simple and elegant and inside several tiers of columns, colonnades and galleries emphasize the solemn atmosphere. Remember to go downstairs to visit the crypt which contains the relic of San Sabino and a nice Madonna Odegitria icon.<br /><br /><a href="http://italian-notes.blogspot.com/2010/04/santa-claus-in-southern-italy.html">Basilica di San Nicola</a> is Bari’s main attraction. A massive church that contains the relics of San Nicola, better known as Father Christmas. The saint is celebrated with a big festival every year during the first weekend in May, when they tap manna – a liquid said to have miraculous powers – from his tomb.<br /><br />The provincial gallery <a href="http://www.musei.it/puglia/bari/pinacoteca-provinciale.asp">Pinacoteca Provinciale</a> presents Italian baroque and impressionistic paintings especially by the local painter Francesco Netti. And in Museo Archelogico there is an impressive collection of red- and black-figure pottery from Attica.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Places</span><br />Piazza del Ferrarese provides a lively entrance to the old town as market place in the morning and communal living room at night. Here you will find numerous cafés, bars, and gelateria in addition to excavated patches of via Appia-Traiana, the Sala Murat which holds minor exhibitions of contemporary art, the old indoor fish market, and occasional public events like fashion shows and food festivals, etc.<br /><br />Piazza Mercantile merges imperceptibly into Piazza del Ferrarese. Historically this was the political centre of town, where Bari’s Council of Nobles met at the Palazzo del Sedile, and where debtors were flogged and punished at the Colonna della Giustizia that can still be seen in a corner of the square. A great number and variety of pizzeria and restaurants can be found in alleys surrounding Piazza Mercantile.<br /><br />Lungomare Imperatore Augusto fill with people promenading back and forth every evening in the typical Italian fashion. The promenade in Bari Vecchia is raised over the sea and appears to lie on an old city wall, while the less crowded Lungomare Nazario Sauro in the new part of town runs along the harbor.<br /><br />Corso Cavour means shopping - especially clothes - of all the popular brands and chain stores.<br /><br />Piazza Garibaldi is the place to relax in the shade of tall tree. The public garden offers authentic Italian park life, where men crowd around obscure betting games, while women chat and children play.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Food & Events</span><br />For authentic puglian cooking try <a href="http://www.ristorantebacco.it/inizio.php">Ristorante Bacco</a>, Osteria delle Travi "Il Buco" in largo Chiurlia 12 or <a href="http://www.ai2ghiottoni.it/index.html">Ai 2 Ghiottoni</a>, where you can find orecchiette with horse meat stew, cavatelli pasta with clams and beans, tiella or tiedda with rice, potatoes and mussels, “braciola” rolls of horse meat filled with cheese, parsley and garlic and fried and grilled fish.<br /><br />In summer Bari hosts a number of free open air concerts like Radio Norba’s Battiti Live with popular Italian bands and musicians.<br /><br />Another annually recurring festival is <a href="http://www.timezones.it/">Times Zones</a> in November staging international performers with a repertoire of progressive and independent jazz, rock and electronica. The venue for most of these concerts is Teatro Kursaal.<br /><br />And then there is the opera scene in the newly renovated Teatro Petruzelli. One of the great opera houses of Italy alongside La Scala in Milan, Teatro Massimmo in Palermo and Teatro San Carlo in Naples. The gorgeous Art Noveau building with a frescoed cupola, red velvet seats and gilded wood carvings burned down to the ground in 1991, but reopened in December 2009 after a reconstruction costing 20 billion euro.Italian Noteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12245223175183933299noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2143477592443111679.post-36002274470806556802010-10-18T16:35:00.003+02:002010-10-18T16:40:27.013+02:00More to Avetrana than misery<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SvM5NBjQfwc/TLxcR0tpXzI/AAAAAAAAA5o/AiUP-Y8rCp8/s1600/Italian+notes-27.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 296px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SvM5NBjQfwc/TLxcR0tpXzI/AAAAAAAAA5o/AiUP-Y8rCp8/s400/Italian+notes-27.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5529395903781756722" /></a><br />Over the past weeks the main square in Avetrana has developed into an absurd version of Times Square on New Year’s eve attracting endless numbers of locals, tourists and journalists ready to discuss and report the latest developments and rumours in a tragic, ongoing murder mystery. <br /><br />Corriere della Sera writes about ‘<a href="http://www.corriere.it/cronache/10_ottobre_18/buccini-sarah-turisti_55761562-da7e-11df-b6f8-00144f02aabc.shtml">La folla di curiosi</a>’ and international newspapers are appalled by this blatant example of Italian videocracy (cf. The Guardian ‘<a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2010/oct/07/sarah-scazzi-mother-hears-of-murder-on-tv">Mother told live on Italian TV of daughter’s murder</a>’). One family’s private tragedy in relation to the disappearance and murder of a 15-year old girl has developed into a scary primetime docu soap with archetypal puglian peasants in all the villainous, bad guy roles. <br /><br />You tend to forget that Avetrana is a real town with 7 000 <span style="font-style:italic;">bravi</span>, ordinary, law-abiding people, where old men used to rule over the piazza every evening around sunset. There they discussed the weather and the wine harvest while their wives attended mass in the Chiesa Madre that can be dated back to the 15th century, and the younger generation played football and drove around on scooters. In the spring, the city organizes an authentic carnival, and in summer, the local stadium stages rock concerts with great Salento bands like Negramaro and Sud Sound System and then everybody flicks a lighter and sings along on popular radio hits like <span style="font-style:italic;">‘mentre tutto scorre’</span>. Avetrana is a very nice and very typical town right in the middle of the three Salento provinces Taranto, Brindisi and Lecce.<br /><br />Various theories account for the name of the town. Avetrana could be a derivation of latin ‘<span style="font-style:italic;">habet ranas</span>’ meaning a place with many frogs due to the nearby swamps, or it could be an abbreviation ‘<span style="font-style:italic;">terra veterana</span>’, that is the land that has not been cultivated. Both theories reflect that Avetrana has been inhabited thousands of years before Christ.<br /><br />The town is separated from the sea by marshes, and sometimes a sad crying like the bellow of a dying ox can be heard from the southeast. Local legend offers various explanations of this phenomenon. There are those who claim that the sound is a cry of help from a Saracen in full armour with weapons and gold trimmings who disappeared in the swamp when riding his magnificent black horse. Others say that the noise is the crying of martyrs that has been audible since a monk desperately in love with a young woman drowned himself in the water. And then there are those who maintain that the sound is made by a ogre that looked like an ox only 10-20 times larger. One day long ago this monster washed up on the seashore and got helplessly trapped in the marshes. <br /><br />Occasionally, the sad, heart breaking cries can still be heard in Avetrana, especially when Sirocco wind beats up a storm in the Ionian Sea making the waves reverberate in the underground grottoes and caves that run between the sea and the wetlands. And this crying will remain long after the present hype and televised lamentation subside.Italian Noteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12245223175183933299noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2143477592443111679.post-82402408502688210842010-09-29T11:34:00.003+02:002010-09-29T11:39:27.069+02:00Lost in transit between Linate and Malpensa<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SvM5NBjQfwc/TKMI2iOmFOI/AAAAAAAAA5I/_wOrepNzItY/s1600/Italian+notes-22.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 254px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SvM5NBjQfwc/TKMI2iOmFOI/AAAAAAAAA5I/_wOrepNzItY/s400/Italian+notes-22.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5522267301080339682"></a><br />Trapped in a highway spaghetti during a slow moving Milano rush hour you have plenty of time to regret the decision to use the Lombardian metrolpol as a hub to southern Italy. Milano offers a great choice of intercontinental, international and domestic flights, but 64.7 km and a city of 1,3 million people separate the connections and there are no metros or high speed trains to facilitate transit. ‘Shuttle’ buses operate roughly on a 90 minute schedule, the duration of the tour is 1 h 10 and suddenly you need a miracle to make a 2 hour transit.<br /><br />I speak from the experience of going from Copenhagen via Milano to Bari and back, and it qualifies as a regular nightmare. Outbound we caught the shuttle bus from Malpensa and arrived at Linate just in time only to find that our domestic flight had been cancelled. The next connection involved a 5 hour wait and a total transport time of 15 hours. Yawn.<br /><br />Homebound another cancellation paired with wind turbulence delays made it necessary to take a taxi to 125 euros, and we only caught our connection flight thanks to the driver’s willingness to disregard speed limits, sweet talking a security guard into letting us through Malpensa’s VIP scanner, mobile phone check in, cabin baggage only and serious jogging to the departure gate.<br /><br />The transit challenges could of course have been figured out beforehand, but a naive belief in European infrastructure led me to assume that there had to be a well functioning transport system between Milano’s airport for international and domestic flights. Nothing could be more wrong. So now I fly to Puglia via London, Brussels, Amsterdam, Paris or Rome, or better still drive 4-600 km through Italy to and from the nearest airport offering a direct connection.Italian Noteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12245223175183933299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2143477592443111679.post-70790259296667015272010-09-20T16:27:00.002+02:002010-09-20T16:28:52.254+02:00Corn in the desert<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SvM5NBjQfwc/TJdvjTHz2FI/AAAAAAAAA4w/C3A-pdjFam4/s1600/Italian+notes-19.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 198px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SvM5NBjQfwc/TJdvjTHz2FI/AAAAAAAAA4w/C3A-pdjFam4/s400/Italian+notes-19.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5519002520584968274" /></a><br />The Foggia province in Northern Puglia separates into two distinctly different landscapes: There is the Tavoliere plain, also known as Magna Capitana, and the Gargano spur with its green hills, white cliffs and Forest Umbra. Considering the charms of Gargano with breathtaking views, eminent beaches, ample tourist facilities and two of the most popular European pilgrim sites, most visitors skip the Tavoliere. Yet beneath the endless monotony of wheat fields there are interesting sights layers of history.<br /><br />Take for instance the village Ordona on the Via Traiana route, where you can see beautiful and virtually undiscovered remains of a Roman temple, shops, market, amfitheater and thermal baths. In ancient times the place was known as Herdonia, where Hannibal fought the Second Punic War (219-202 BC) that destroyed the town and left the area to sheep.<br /><br />The Roman poet Horace, who was born in the area in 65 BC, described the Tavoliere as a dry, thirsty, desert landscape. An arid flatland that couldn’t be cultivated until 1939, when the Apulian aqueduct was inaugurated. As one of the largest construction projects undertaken in the early 20th century in Italy, l'Acquedotto Pugliese taps water from the Sele River in the mountains near Avellino in Campania and reroutes it to the riverless Puglia region. Twenty thousand workers contributed to the ambitious project that started in 1906 and brought freshwater to Bari in 1915. Today the entire length of the aqueduct, including primary and secondary lines is 2189 km, serving the more than 4 million inhabitants in 258 cities, towns and villages along with the corn and tomatoes that grow in the former wasteland on the Tavoliere.Italian Noteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12245223175183933299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2143477592443111679.post-65117715790868673242010-09-10T15:57:00.004+02:002010-09-10T16:02:14.870+02:00Italian hours<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SvM5NBjQfwc/TIo6I46rVFI/AAAAAAAAA4Y/Q1uS1HJswCk/s1600/Italian+notes-17.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SvM5NBjQfwc/TIo6I46rVFI/AAAAAAAAA4Y/Q1uS1HJswCk/s400/Italian+notes-17.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515284618060452946" /></a><br />When traveling through Italy, you can’t help noticing how the south operates by a different time zone than the north of the country. In my part of Puglia, you never go out to dine before nine pm, and families with grandmothers and small children are still dropping in for their evening meal at half past ten in the evening. Appetite comes slowly in a warm climate. In consequence, we are always running late for dinners in northern Italy, where all tables are full at eight o’clock and where some restaurant kitchens stop serving after ten.<br /><br />Now time - to me at least - was part of the order of things, and therefore above questioning, until I happened to read the introduction to Henry James’ <span style="font-style:italic;">Italian hours</span>. Here Professor John Auchard interprets the title in a historical context, quoting guidebooks from the early 19th century for saying that the “manner of reckoning time in some parts of Italy is peculiar to themselves." Apparently, time in Italy was considered a local phenomenon, varying approximately four minutes for every degree of longitude, so that noon arrived at different moments in Florence, Milan and Rome. This should explain why trains, for instance, operated on different schedules in different towns, and why they sometimes happened to depart earlier than announced!<br /><br />Synchronization improved with the unification of Italy in 1870, but it took years before standard Greenwich mean time, proposed in 1884, was widely adopted. And perhaps the local protests against time tyranny and regimentation are still manifest at dinner time.Italian Noteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12245223175183933299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2143477592443111679.post-77515409045684997342010-09-08T12:02:00.003+02:002010-09-08T12:11:13.383+02:00Caught up in the attractions of Puglia<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SvM5NBjQfwc/TIdhHttgSjI/AAAAAAAAA4A/GxLq0LGzVog/s1600/Italian+notes-14.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 277px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SvM5NBjQfwc/TIdhHttgSjI/AAAAAAAAA4A/GxLq0LGzVog/s400/Italian+notes-14.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5514483053895895602" /></a><br />My first visit to Puglia took place as an act of escapism. A few days of peltering rain in a leaking tent with two young children in Emilia-Romagna stirred the urge to go south, and with a trunk full of muddy washing we kept going till the sun broke through. It happened shortly after Vasto, and while we crossed the Tavoliere temperatures climbed.<br /><br />The Tavoliere ranges as the largest plain in Italy after the Po Valley, and plains can be pretty boring from a touristy point of view. Especially in Puglia, where farm workers live in towns leaving the countryside to vast fields and roaring emptiness. Not knowing if or when the wheat fields would ever end, we turned left around Manfredonia, went out on the spur of the Gargano Promontory and ended up in <a href="http://italian-notes.blogspot.com/2010/05/invasions-of-vieste.html">Vieste</a>. Since then Puglia has been the undisputed holiday favourite.<br /><br />Precisely what makes south-eastern Italy so attractive eludes words, but an important element is the easy-going friendliness. People we met went out of their way to guide strangers; they smiled and talked uninhibited; organised play groups for the children and came running after us, if we forgot our change at the cafe. The relaxed atmosphere seemed so pervasive it infected holiday-makers from all over Italy, and soon you had open invitations to stop by people in Milano, Mantova, Bologna or L’Aquila.<br /><br />Another Puglian characteristic is the natural and cultural diversity. Over the past 2000 years Puglia has been under Greek, Roman, Byzantine, Arab, Norman, Swabian, Saracen, Angevin and Spanish rule and the historical heritage can be traced through every town. An endless number of <a href="http://italian-notes.blogspot.com/2010/04/santa-claus-in-southern-italy.html">churches</a>, castles, city walls, palaces, <a href="http://italian-notes.blogspot.com/2010/06/all-along-are-watch-towers.html">watchtowers</a>, acquaducts, harbours, magic stones and <a href="http://italian-notes.blogspot.com/2010/01/archangels-mountain.html">religious sanctuaries</a> complement the two official world heritage sites (ie. the <a href="http://italian-notes.blogspot.com/2009/08/trullo-i-en-trullo.html">trulli in Alberobello</a> and Castel del Monte). The <a href="http://italian-notes.blogspot.com/2010/06/puglia-5-itineraries-through-natural.html">landscape</a> changes from hills and forest to plains, <a href="http://italian-notes.blogspot.com/2010/03/beauty-of-macchia-mediterranea.html">heathland</a>, <a href="http://italian-notes.blogspot.com/2010/08/castellana-grotte-bari-puglia.html">caves</a>, ravines and gorges with an understated kind of beauty; charming <a href="http://italian-notes.blogspot.com/2010/06/whitewashed-towns-of-salento.html">white villages</a> with labyrinthine narrow alleys compete with high-end shopping districts in big city grids; <a href="http://italian-notes.blogspot.com/2010/03/bearing-cross.html">medieval traditions</a> and <a href="http://italian-notes.blogspot.com/2009/09/pizzica-pa-hjemmebane.html">customs </a>mingle with modern living; industry and agriculture keep the wheels turning and behind the ancient stone walls there’s a rich production of <a href="http://italian-notes.blogspot.com/2010/03/spring-in-oil-field.html">olives</a>, wine, wheat oranges, tomatoes, peppers, eggplants, squash and other vegetables. <br />Puglia has got is all - along with free sandy beaches, a warm, dry climate and an amazing light that immediately cures minor depressive tendencies after a Scandinavian winter.<br /><br />No wonder I got so caught up during my first Puglian escape that I still hang around. In coming blogs I’ll try to describe the main attractions of each province.Italian Noteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12245223175183933299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2143477592443111679.post-11967522226239780502010-08-26T17:12:00.002+02:002010-08-26T17:15:55.652+02:00The secret zoo<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SvM5NBjQfwc/THaEuCq0sDI/AAAAAAAAA3Q/KyisNndZVEk/s1600/Italian+notes-7.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 263px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SvM5NBjQfwc/THaEuCq0sDI/AAAAAAAAA3Q/KyisNndZVEk/s400/Italian+notes-7.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5509737120659714098" /></a><br />A couple of days ago I came across an article on the combined zoo, safari and amusement park in Fasano near Bari. That reminded me of another Puglian zoo that in spite of a great number and variety of animals is practically unknown, even to people who have lived in the area all their lives. I am talking about the zoo on the road between Oria and Manduria – just across the road from the barracks and airfield where several division within the US Army Air Force were stationed during WWII.<br /><br />We had braved the stench of Manduaria Ambiente to visit the sanctuary of<a href="http://www.diocesidioria.it/web/node/37"> S. Cosimo alla Macchia</a>, where friends had told us devout pilgrims still practiced floor licking - lingua strascinuni – as a kind of penance – but when we arrived the church and the surrounding outdoor areas were fully and totally deserted. A shop sold crucifixes, holy water fountains, charms, rosaries, bibles, porcelain angles and other religious souvenirs, but there were no customers, the church was empty and neither cars nor busses filled the scorching parking lot which could easily accommodate all Auchan shoppers on a Friday night.<br /><br />So much concrete emptiness can get a little creepy, so we observed the scene from the shadow of some trees and found ourselves next to a small wooden ticket office. This aroused our curiosity so we paid the entrance fee and entered a lush garden forest where we were greeted by parrots, pelicans, storks and black swans. There were also deer, wildebeest, zebras, antelopes, camels, buffalos and other hoofed animals, crocodiles, reptiles and snakes, hippos, lions and about eight big tigers locked up behind a double steel wire fence. They looked pretty docile and bored, but I still found it hard to believe that so many big cats live on a lawn in Salento, and if I did not have the photos to prove it, I would still doubt the memory. <br /><br />There is something strange and surreal about secret zoos, but the <a href="http://lapica.org/zoo.htm">Giardino zoologico di Oria</a> is a nice, cool and quiet green spot that deserves many more visitors, than I have ever seen in the vicinity. So if you happen to be in the area, you might as well take a look around. Perhaps the ticket office will even reward you with a peacock feather.Italian Noteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12245223175183933299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2143477592443111679.post-62191265920680304322010-08-23T15:38:00.003+02:002010-08-23T15:41:20.198+02:00Exploring Arezzo in writing<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SvM5NBjQfwc/THJ6IwdPb1I/AAAAAAAAA3A/sXSW7FXs-k8/s1600/Italian+notes-5.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 319px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SvM5NBjQfwc/THJ6IwdPb1I/AAAAAAAAA3A/sXSW7FXs-k8/s400/Italian+notes-5.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508599585092628306" /></a><br />I have a real bad habit of consulting guidebooks after I have visited a place – a negligence leading to great regrets over opportunities lost, photos not taken and sights not seen.<br /> <br />Like Henry James, I spent my day at Arezzo in an “uninvestigating fashion …. systematically leaving the dust of the ages unfingered on the stored records”. I did see Piero della Francesca’s fresco cycle on “The legend of the True Cross” and glimpse Santa Maria della Pieve from a distance, while haunting the fashionable shopping district, but I seemed to miss the poetry of the place. <br /><br />Fortunately, James kept a record of his Arezzo stay in 1873, and it is a great pleasure to explore the city through his writing:<br /><br />“Adorable Italy in which, for the constant renewal of interest, of attention, of affection, these refinements of variety, these so harmoniously-grouped and individually-seasoned fruits of the great garden of history, keep presenting themselves! It seemed to fall in with the cheerful Tuscan mildness for instance – sticking as I do to that ineffectual expression of the Tuscan charm, of the yellow-brown Tuscan dignity at large – that the ruined castle on the hill (with which agreeable feature Arezzo is no less furnished than Assisi and Cortona) had been converted into a great blooming, and I hope all profitable, podere or market-garden. I lounged away the half-hours there under a spell as potent as the “wildest” forecast of propriety – propriety to all the particular conditions – could have figured it. I had seen Santa Maria della Pieve and its campanile of quaint colonnades, the stately, dusky cathedral – grass-plotted and residence about almost after the fashion of an English “close” – and John of Pisa’s elaborate marble shrine; I had seen the museum and its Etruscan vases and majolica platters. These were very well, but the old pacified citadel somehow, through a day of soft saturation, placed me most in relation. Beautiful hills surrounded it, cypresses cast straight shadows at its corners, while in the middle grew a wondrous Italian tangle of wheat and corn, vines and figs, peaches and cabbages, memories and images, anything and everything.” (From <span style="font-style:italic;">Italian Hours</span>)<br /><br />I really must go back sometime soon to look for those memories and images.Italian Noteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12245223175183933299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2143477592443111679.post-79130555680674341812010-08-20T15:14:00.004+02:002010-08-20T15:19:04.999+02:00The weird wonders of Grotte di Castellana<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SvM5NBjQfwc/TG6AUwg_lKI/AAAAAAAAA2o/WxZwN0ppChU/s1600/Italian+notes-4.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 232px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SvM5NBjQfwc/TG6AUwg_lKI/AAAAAAAAA2o/WxZwN0ppChU/s400/Italian+notes-4.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507480488429720738" /></a><br />Two things strike me as really remarkable about <a href="http://www.grottedicastellana.it/">Grotte di Castellana</a> <br /> – one of Italy’s seemingly endless subterranean limestone caves with pretty drapings of stalagmites – columns rising up from the cave floor - and stalactites hanging from the cave ceiling like icicles on the eaves in a Scandinavian winter. That’s the history of how the cave was discovered and the shape of one particular but not very big stalactitete.<br /><br />Until 1938 the caves 2 km outside the town of Castellana in Puglia were shrouded in mystery and superstition. Local farmers were aware of a stinking hole in the earth that swallowed quite a few animals which they believed led straight to hell. In fact, the malodorous smell was gasses from the rotting cadavers of animals that had not survived a free fall of 60 metres from the surface of the earth to the bottom of the principal cave appropriately named ‘la grave’. Just before the Second World War a courageous geologist named Franco Anelli ventured down the hole, and he discovered a complex systems of enormous grottos connected by underground passages. A slippery, spooky and chilly place that has had more than 14 million visitors including the film crew of Alien 2, since it was first opened to the public some 60 years ago.<br /><br />All visitors have seen – but perhaps not noticed – a small stalactite that seems to grow perpendicular on a vertical dripstone. I have heard geologists discuss the phenomenon and develop theories about a draft and physical possibility of such a formation, and I think they reached the conclusion that the horizontal stalactite had to be a fig of the imagination. So now I have to go back and do another 50 minute guided tour to confirm the sight – unless some of you have seen the same weird wonder?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SvM5NBjQfwc/TG6AeScopRI/AAAAAAAAA2w/ffSQxXVk8ck/s1600/Italian+notes-3.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SvM5NBjQfwc/TG6AeScopRI/AAAAAAAAA2w/ffSQxXVk8ck/s400/Italian+notes-3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5507480652157068562" /></a>Italian Noteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12245223175183933299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2143477592443111679.post-87821922200883121342010-08-18T11:22:00.003+02:002010-08-18T11:25:41.613+02:00Behind a medieval castle in eastern Marche<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SvM5NBjQfwc/TGum0Mk66NI/AAAAAAAAA2I/wgMjR9sQy6Y/s1600/Italian+notes-53.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 250px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SvM5NBjQfwc/TGum0Mk66NI/AAAAAAAAA2I/wgMjR9sQy6Y/s400/Italian+notes-53.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506678385050052818" /></a><br />Standing on the balcony of the Ducal Palace in Camerino enjoying the breathtaking view of the Sibillini Mountains, there is little to indicate that this hillside town on the eastern border of Le Marche played a prominent role in the conquests, plots and conspiracies that stained the Renaissance. <br /><br />From the 14th to the 16th century Camerino flourished and became a bustling centre of trade under the auspices of the powerful Da Varano family that seemed to be related to all the great noble families of Italy. Their court drew artists and scholars from all over the country and during their reign Camerino’s university was founded, and they built the sumptuous Ducal Palace and a 12 km-long wall to defend the city. <br /><br />The defense could not hold out against the troops of the notorious Cesare Borgia. Through the late 15th century this spoiled, scheming, ruthless and murderous papal offspring, who had renounced the priesthood in favour of a military career, successfully subdued local despots in Romagna and proceeded to carve out a principality for himself in the territories owing allegiance to the pope. In 1502 Camerino was conquered along with nearby Urbino, and Cesare Borgia cut off the head of the Da Varano family including three male heirs to the fiefdom. The conquests compromised Cesare Borgia’s popularity in the region, but with the help of the French king he managed to fight back local uprising and conspiracy. <br /><br />Cesare Borgia even had time to erect a castle in Camerino to ward off attacks from the south-west. The Rocca del Borgia is a massive construction with cylindrical towers and through the ages it has served as treasury concealing the shrine of Loreto from looting Saracen pirates, as Nazi headquarters and hospital before its present reincarnation as restaurant.<br /><br />All the castles, armies and mercenaries in central Italy could not, however, protect Cesare Borgia from the hazards of ill health. In 1503 both he and his father the pope were seized with fever. The pope died and Cesare's dominion fell to pieces.<br /><br />In Camerino, a Da Varano descendant who had survived the massacre regained control of the city and acquired the title of duke. He constructed a passage between the Palazzo Ducale and Rocca del Borgia apart from the drawbridge that originally formed the only point of access. He armed the castle with 42 guns and lay down strict rules for defense, hygiene and public service that transformed the medieval city. For instance people were obliged to clean the cobbled stones in the street outside their houses every Saturday. Water supply was organized and sources had to be cleaned. Commercial stalls were referred to particular town squares. And the cattle market moved outside the city walls. With these measures Camerino prospered, grew and became one of four <span style="font-style:italic;">Civitates Maiores</span> of Marche. <br /><br />Today Camerino rests peacefully on a pillow of past glory. For a university town, it seems extraordinary small and quiet as we - with usual bad timing - struggle up steep and winding but still clean streets in the heat of the midday sun. At the top of the hill we find some shade from the buildings surrounding Piazza Cavour, where a statue of Pope Sixtus V presides along with some foreign students. They may be plotting to attend summer courses at the University, but apart from that there are no conspiracies or warlords in sight. Even the portico, balcony, loggias and frescoed halls of the Ducal Palace breathe tranquility and beautiful vistas.Italian Noteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12245223175183933299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2143477592443111679.post-24442421489025182292010-08-10T16:44:00.003+02:002010-08-10T16:47:03.025+02:00Rally round the palio<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SvM5NBjQfwc/TGFmF-mdUDI/AAAAAAAAA1w/Qgul5tjx5Ek/s1600/Italian+notes-49.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 286px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SvM5NBjQfwc/TGFmF-mdUDI/AAAAAAAAA1w/Qgul5tjx5Ek/s400/Italian+notes-49.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503792472513138738" /></a><br />“Vai, Vito! Vai, vai!” an elegant woman in a crispy new, slim-fit shirt screams while edging her way through the crowd lining the promenade around Ponte Girevole. <br /><br />Like innumerable other Italian towns, Taranto stages an annual race, where various groups compete for an honourable banner known as the ‘palio’. In Italy there are palii involving horses – like the world famous and newly controversial Palio di Siena - and palii for armies, eggs, boats, frogs, oxen, donkeys, hunters, archers, woodwork, wheelbarrows, cheese, running, walking, grape pressing, pasta making, you name it. The competitions spice up local ‘feste medievali’ and mobilize supporters from all over town. <br /><br />Il Palio di Taranto is a rowing race between different crafts and district. Carabinieri row against coast guards, marines and firefighters, while representatives from Talsano and Paolo VI tries to beat contestants from Tamburi and Croce to the finish line. In each colour-coded boat, two strong men with very broad shoulders, inflated triceps, knee pads and in some cases also ludicrously outdated swimming costumes stand up rowing from a starting line in Mar Grande to the bridge Mar Piccolo, while their family, friends and colleagues spur them on with cheers and shouts.<br /><br />As an outsider I find it hard to match the zealous passion of local spectators, who couldn’t be more engaged if they were watching the final stages of Tour de France. They push and scream intensely as the leading boats approach the canal in a frantic effort to get ahead. Two minutes later the winners have been found, and they are proudly displaying the palio, while a tow-boat drags them back to shore. Here they are met by television crews, a hand-shaking mayor and teenage kisses from a newly crowned Miss Lizzano and Miss Torricella.<br /><br />Meanwhile the woman in the slim-fit shirt beside me looks a bit downcast. She is accompanied by a man who places a comforting hand on her shoulder and assures her that the result is okay, before they hurry down behind Castel Sant'Angelo to receive their private palio hero.Italian Noteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12245223175183933299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2143477592443111679.post-28931076629749609452010-07-12T09:13:00.002+02:002010-07-12T09:16:43.686+02:00Summer vegetation in my back yard<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SvM5NBjQfwc/TDrBLXLo2QI/AAAAAAAAA0Q/RTQxx5g5Yzw/s1600/Italian+notes-32.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 263px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SvM5NBjQfwc/TDrBLXLo2QI/AAAAAAAAA0Q/RTQxx5g5Yzw/s400/Italian+notes-32.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5492915096477292802" /></a><br />Italian Notes is taking a break these weeks to enjoy the proliferation of Italian summer flowers and vegetate in the back yard. <br /><br />Thank you for all the kind attention generated by Italy Magazine’s portrait of Italian Notes as <a href="http://www.italymag.co.uk/italy-featured/puglia/blog-week-italian-notes">Blog of the Week</a>. I hope new readers may find entertainment in some of the old blog posts and will try to keep the <a href="http://bit.ly/dbrtAg">facebook site</a> updated with inspiring links to Italian travel writing.Italian Noteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12245223175183933299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2143477592443111679.post-66062998491974370132010-06-24T16:50:00.009+02:002010-06-25T08:46:45.515+02:00The whitewashed towns of Salento<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SvM5NBjQfwc/TCNyDBnF0oI/AAAAAAAAAzQ/wenmGsywAvE/s1600/Italian+notes-28.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 258px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SvM5NBjQfwc/TCNyDBnF0oI/AAAAAAAAAzQ/wenmGsywAvE/s400/Italian+notes-28.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486354167364964994" /></a><br />Like the Greek islands and southern Spain, dazzling whitewashed towns dot the heel of Puglia. Ancient towns with Roman, Greek or Saracen roots and WLAN access. <br /><br />The stone-paved streets in the tight-fitting town centres are so narrow, you have to step into a doorway to let a scooter pass. People sitting outside on their front steps shelling beans, napping or chatting greet you with a friendly, but inquisitive <span style="font-style:italic;">boungiorno</span>. Through open gateways you can look into private courtyards with bright flowers in pots and recycled steel cans. Strings of chilies and tomatoes are hung to dry outside kitchen windows. And on the roof tops clean washing floats in the wind sending whiffs of fabric softener and detergent through the air. <br /><br />In spite of their old history the white towns on Salento still house modern lives, as you will see, if you follow the white town route from Locorotondo, through Cisternino, Ostuni and Otranto to Gallipoli.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SvM5NBjQfwc/TCNyLyQx-tI/AAAAAAAAAzY/017W_ZoFGcM/s1600/Italian+notes-24.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SvM5NBjQfwc/TCNyLyQx-tI/AAAAAAAAAzY/017W_ZoFGcM/s400/Italian+notes-24.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486354317863680722" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Locorotondo</span><br />Situated in the Valle d’Itria and surrounded by major tourist spots like Martina Franca, Alberobello and Cisternino, the charms of Locorotondo are generally overlooked, but the city with a population of 14.000 people has a lot more than whiteness to offer to offer. The centro storico is perched on a hill top from where you have a terrific view of the countryside with the characteristic trulli houses. Apart from that the architecture of Locorotondo is famous for the pointed roofs called <span style="font-style:italic;">'cummerse'</span>, a feature not seen elsewhere on the Italian peninsula.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SvM5NBjQfwc/TCNyc72OETI/AAAAAAAAAzg/U1_2UgHl0Lc/s1600/Italian+notes-25.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 257px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SvM5NBjQfwc/TCNyc72OETI/AAAAAAAAAzg/U1_2UgHl0Lc/s400/Italian+notes-25.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486354612494405938" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Cisternino</span><br />In Puglia, the name Cisternino links to <span style="font-style:italic;">fornelli pronto</span>, butcher shops with wood fired barbecue and a few tables where roasted meat is served with a glass of wine. A must-try for all visitors after a relaxing stroll within the confines of the old town walls. According to legend the town Cisternino was founded in the Bronze Ages and destroyed during Hannibal’s raids in Puglia in 216 BC. The settlement was revitalized in the 8th century, when refugee Basilian monks decided to build a Greek Orthodox abbey. Traces of the original church have been found under Chiesa Madre di San Nicola.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SvM5NBjQfwc/TCNyoeW7naI/AAAAAAAAAzo/j4vUwOhlMeg/s1600/Italian+notes-23.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SvM5NBjQfwc/TCNyoeW7naI/AAAAAAAAAzo/j4vUwOhlMeg/s400/Italian+notes-23.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486354810736975266" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Ostuni</span><br />Ostuni is the <span style="font-style:italic;">‘città bianca’</span> per se. A fabulously romantic city attracting thousands of particularly Italian tourists each summer. They crowd the citadel where every building, wall, staircase, roof and archway are painted white. Main attractions are the cathedral, the bishop’s palace and houses for the local nobility and the eastern town wall, where people line up to photograph each other on a background of the dark blue Adriatic Sea and the cyan colour of the summer sky.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SvM5NBjQfwc/TCNyyplM6SI/AAAAAAAAAzw/97_f84eMV9o/s1600/Italian+notes-26.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SvM5NBjQfwc/TCNyyplM6SI/AAAAAAAAAzw/97_f84eMV9o/s400/Italian+notes-26.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486354985548310818" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Otranto</span><br />Thanks to Horace Walpole’s gothic novel called The Castle of Otranto, the small Greek town south east of Lecce as become a household name. And even though Walpole never visited the place, Otranto does have a castle and a gothic history involving two giant cannon balls and the death of 800 martyrs, killed by Turkish pirates in 1480. Their skulls are supposed to be lined up in a side chapel to the cathedral, but most visitors just walk around the old town and if they are very lucky catch a glimpse of the Albanian mountains.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SvM5NBjQfwc/TCRQoTxsuqI/AAAAAAAAA0A/dekwlF2q3D4/s1600/Bal-56.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 140px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SvM5NBjQfwc/TCRQoTxsuqI/AAAAAAAAA0A/dekwlF2q3D4/s400/Bal-56.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5486598899477822114" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Gallipoli</span><br />Like Otranto the founding fathers of Gallipoli were Greeks who settled on a chalk stone island with a good command of access to the Ionian Sea. An arched stone bridge connects the old town with the commercial town centre, providing an interesting view of the castle and the fleet of Greek blue fishing boats. I don’t think I have seen a single tree on the island, but there are numerous churches, cafes, restaurants and a city beach facing the sunset. And you can walk by the waterfront all the way around the old town, pretending you have discovered some magic kind of African Venice. This explains why the Greeks named the town Kallipolis, meaning "Beautiful City".Italian Noteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12245223175183933299noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2143477592443111679.post-79812295312786148302010-06-18T16:27:00.005+02:002010-08-18T15:01:39.808+02:00Enchanted princes with incredible vocal capacities<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SvM5NBjQfwc/TBuC4PGR9RI/AAAAAAAAAyo/yWG1wQN9dBE/s1600/Italian+notes-17.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 271px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SvM5NBjQfwc/TBuC4PGR9RI/AAAAAAAAAyo/yWG1wQN9dBE/s400/Italian+notes-17.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5484120873890870546" /></a><br />You know summer has come to southern Italy, when you can’t hear your own thoughts for the enervating noise of cicadas. As I understand it, the small insects have a built-in drum in their abdomen that can produce noise of up to 120 dB at close range. That equals the sound effect of an aircraft or a rock concert. Enough, to disable phone calls and conversation and to drive anyone who has to live with the sound from dawn to dusk a little crazy. <br /><br />Cicadas are temperature sensitive animals, so they don’t make a racket until the thermometer has climbed up over 30C. Then they start clicking very loud and very early in the morning and continue till midnight. Fortunately, they have the consideration to turn down the volume around noon, when everyone surrenders to the heat.<br /><br />To a Scandinavian the idea of singing cicadas seems attractively romantic, but in reality it can be a regular pain in the neck. And some days the situation is so desperate, it almost makes you wish for rain.<br /><br />I suppose, you could forgive the cicadas if the din served a purpose, but from what I have read, these insects live their entire lives within a very small radius. In fact, they prefer to stay put around a specific tree. Female cicadas lay their eggs in the bark, the eggs develop into nymphs that slide down the trunk to draw juice from tree roots. In due course, when the nymphs have grown up, they climb back up the tree, leave their skin and start searching for a mate. The clicking noise serves as a male point of attraction, but as the love of their life is always just around the nearest branch, they might be a bit more discreet.<br /><br />Now their discretion is entirely visual. In spite of the noise, it is difficult to catch sight of the cicadas, unless you are satisfied with the dry discarded skin they leave behind on tree trunks and steel wires. I don’t think I have seen live cicadas more than twice, one of which demonstrated an alternative mode of singing every time a wanton 11-year-old poked it with his shoe. The cries of the poor insect were heartbreaking, but also highly entertaining, if you asked the kids.<br /><br />They are not familiar with Greek myth saying that the cicada is the lover of the Titan dawn goddess Eos. She fell in love with a beautiful prince and Zeus helped her to make the prince immortal. Yet they forgot to grant him eternal youth, so the prince ended up as a shriveled old corpse. He maintained his powerful voice, however, and he is still using it. <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SvM5NBjQfwc/TBuCvJiKuKI/AAAAAAAAAyg/NcF0jPyaXpw/s1600/Italian+notes-18.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SvM5NBjQfwc/TBuCvJiKuKI/AAAAAAAAAyg/NcF0jPyaXpw/s400/Italian+notes-18.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5484120717778401442" /></a>Italian Noteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12245223175183933299noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2143477592443111679.post-21001326054291425482010-06-15T15:25:00.004+02:002010-08-18T15:01:54.515+02:00All along are watch-towers<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SvM5NBjQfwc/TBd_3IK3uAI/AAAAAAAAAyA/ur3uUVUTRWM/s1600/Italian+notes-13.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 350px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SvM5NBjQfwc/TBd_3IK3uAI/AAAAAAAAAyA/ur3uUVUTRWM/s400/Italian+notes-13.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5482991656409479170" /></a><br />One of the characteristic sights of summer on the Italian coast are solitary watch towers silhouetted against the sky on promontories overlooking the sea. For centuries these buildings formed a first bastion in a local defence system designed to protect civilians from looting Saracens who raided the Mediterranean for riches and galley slaves. (see also <a href="http://italian-notes.blogspot.com/2009/12/pirate-attacks-on-adriatic-coast.html">Pirate attacks on the Adriatic coast</a>)<br /><br />Most of the watch towers in Italy were constructed during the 15th and 16th centuries with a square, flat-roofed tower on top of a pyramidal base. A single doorway placed about 5 m above ground level makes it virtually impossible for attackers to enter, as the rope or movable ladder providing access could easily be pulled up into the building after use. In time wooden staircases replaced the ladders, but these too could easily be destroyed in case of an attack.<br /><br />Though generally derelict, the towers still dot the coast like pearls on a string. On Salento alone more than 80 tower ruins landmark the seaside for sailors and locals. Constructors placed the watch towers in positions where they could maintain visual or aural contact with the next tower and with the Norman castles and fortresses inland. If a lookout saw an enemy or unidentified ship approaching, he would light a fire on the flat roof of the tower to warn off neighbours and call assistance. Later on some of the towers were equipped with bells that could be struck with a hammer (martello) leading to the generic name martello towers. <br /><br />Both light and sound filled the purpose, and today the towers serve as a decorative reminder that networking is not just a modern buzz word.Italian Noteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12245223175183933299noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2143477592443111679.post-86475151658498038602010-06-11T08:40:00.005+02:002010-06-11T08:43:41.880+02:00Cities, sights and other attractions in northern Abruzzo<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SvM5NBjQfwc/TBHa1Ard6dI/AAAAAAAAAxQ/GrfZ2dYsa5I/s1600/Italian+notes-7.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 239px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SvM5NBjQfwc/TBHa1Ard6dI/AAAAAAAAAxQ/GrfZ2dYsa5I/s400/Italian+notes-7.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5481402825736841682" /></a><br />I first fell in love with Italy in the Teramo province, so I was greatly disappointed to learn that it had not been found worthy of mention in any of the numerous guidebooks, I have accumulated over the years. Who is going to tell the thousands of tourists that gather around the Sette Sorelle beaches of Martinsicuro, Alba Adriatica, Tortoreto, Giulianova, Roseto degli Abruzzi, Pineto and Silvi Marina about the wild orchids, wolves, bears and other extraordinary attractions? There are lots of things to see and do on a grey or scorching summer day in northern Abruzzo, and here is my list.<br /><br />If you can’t stand another hour inhaling the smell of sun lotion, you might be ripe for a city break. Giulianova hides an unspoiled centro storico just 1 km inland behind the Lido with stately old family homes, grand piazzas, original shopping and a maze of timeless alleys. Most of the Rai 1 television series ‘Domani è un altro giorno’ was shot here, and film locations are generally recommendable for their suggestive visual qualities. Another favourite is Teramo with its ancient town gates, quiet and tidy streets, and view of the mountains, not to mention the gothic cathedral that seems to have a fake front. If you are lucky and go on Tuesday or Saturday mornings, you may even browse the weekly market for the latest Italian fashion (copies), fresh vegetables, antiques and an assortment of can’t-live-without-it bric-a-brac. <br /><br />Among lace curtains and beach towels we encountered a very friendly abruzzese, who had spent some time as a guest worker in Germany longing for the marvels of his Heimat. Now he could not stop praising the <a href="http://www.parks.it/parco.nazionale.gran.sasso/">Grand Sasso and Monti della Laga national parks</a> with a range of truly spectacular mountains, lakes, waterfalls, forests and gorges interrupted by sigths of rare flowers and endangered animals.<br /> <br />- You really should not visit Teramo without going up in the mountains. There are so many places of outstanding beauty and tranquility. I go there to hike, fish or relax as often as possible, he said. And he was absolutely right. You will never get enough of Grand Sasso as a place of pure zen.<br /><br />Around the park you will also find orginal sights such as the Museo del Lupo, Museo della Grotta di S. Angelo and Tossicia Museo delle Tradizioni Artigiane. Along with ancient fortresses like the fascinating Castel Manfrino situated on the top of a rock overlooking the Salinello Valley, the fortified market town Capestrano and the magnificent Bourbon ‘Fortezza’ in Civitella del Tronto. <br /><br />Lovers of arts and crafts should definitely visit Castelli, where ceramic workshops produce a special bright and colourful majolica. Carlo Levi called Castelli ‘the sistine chapel of Italian majolica’, and that seems to me like an epigraph worth investigating.<br /><br />What are your favourite sights and attractions in northern Abruzzo?Italian Noteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12245223175183933299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2143477592443111679.post-70803840056701447802010-06-09T16:17:00.005+02:002010-06-09T16:21:34.945+02:00Dreaming of palm trees<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SvM5NBjQfwc/TA-i1Mw5DBI/AAAAAAAAAww/dyDJbkAB9es/s1600/Italian+notes-3.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 276px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SvM5NBjQfwc/TA-i1Mw5DBI/AAAAAAAAAww/dyDJbkAB9es/s400/Italian+notes-3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480778306376240146" /></a><br />Like most northerners with a small piece of land in the south, we have been dreaming of palm trees. Tall, majestic, exotic plants that don’t branch out but spread their evergreen leaves in a perfect fan. As an old symbol of victory, peace and plenty, the palm tree makes an impressive sight that goes well with a palazzo style villa and not so well with a humble casa rustica surrounded by olive trees. That is why we decided to consult our Italian gartner. <br /><br />He told us, that palm trees are not just very expensive, they are also a popular status symbol and therefore – at least until they reach a certain height – an all time burglar favourite. Especially, when placed in front of not permanently inhabited houses in the countryside.<br /><br />Instead he recommended a bushy fan palm, as the only palm tree native to the northern Mediterranean countries. It looks shrubby with multiple trunks, thrives in containers or when planted directly in the ground, and shows a good strong resistance against diseases, cold and pests. These arguments replaced the dream of palm tree power with an emblem of modest practicality that looks very much at home in the back yard.<br /><br />And the real palm trees and other exotic plants can still be enjoyed in the cities and along the seaside, where every species and variety is cultivated, like the fascinating Strelitzia reginae also known as Crane Flower or Bird of Paradise.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SvM5NBjQfwc/TA-jMLE6PMI/AAAAAAAAAw4/A9kOuxh1--Q/s1600/Italian+notes-4.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 251px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SvM5NBjQfwc/TA-jMLE6PMI/AAAAAAAAAw4/A9kOuxh1--Q/s400/Italian+notes-4.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5480778701060324546" /></a>Italian Noteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12245223175183933299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2143477592443111679.post-42169340546860699682010-06-04T16:55:00.003+02:002010-06-05T11:29:57.312+02:005 itineraries through the natural beauty of Puglia<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SvM5NBjQfwc/TAkUOuKYBmI/AAAAAAAAAwA/kaBwiVv1luU/s1600/Italian+notes-51.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 257px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_SvM5NBjQfwc/TAkUOuKYBmI/AAAAAAAAAwA/kaBwiVv1luU/s400/Italian+notes-51.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5478932664815191650" /></a><br />Guidebooks and visitors rarely praise Puglia for its natural attractions, which seems quite understandable compared to the breathtaking beauty of more spectacular Italian regions like the northern lakes, Liguria, Toscana and Campania. Still, most places wane when measured by these standards, and Puglia can be real pretty outside the tourist triangle of Castel del Monte, Alberobello and Barocco Leccese. <br /><br />Here is my suggestion for five very different itineraries that will show you the best Puglian views and landscapes.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Manfredonia to Vieste</span><br />Most tourists take the easy northern road to Vieste, cheating themselves for a drive along the Amalfi coast of Puglia. Only 40 km separates Manfredonia from Vieste, but the drive takes an hour and this is not due to traffic but to hairpin bends leading up and down the mountains. Every time you reach a bend with a poor view of the road you have to brake and honk to warn off other cars going in the opposite direction. Free ranging cows and goats with tinkling small and bigger bells use the road as a shortcut between pastures. And once you have passed Mattinata you are in for the most spectacular views . Gargano rests on white limestone painting the sea an unusual emerald green that contrasts the blue sky and the silvery green colour of the olive fields. And in between you will see the most adorable islands, lagoons, beaches and rock formations like the famous "Architiello".<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Saline di margherita di Savoia</span><br />Follow the coast from Manfredonia to Barletta and you will come through Saline di margherita di Savoia , the biggest saltpan in Italy. Apart from the fascinating salt ponds and salt mountains, the Salina provides perfect bird watching. For instance you can see the largest population of pink flamingoes in Europe. <br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Corato to Gravina in Puglia and Altamura</span><br />Driving on the S378 from Corato to Gravina may not be on a shortlist of the five most beautiful scenic drives through Puglia, but it will take you to some of the most spectacular ravines in the city by the same name. The Murgia is characterized by these small canyons formed by rain water that has dissolves the limestone, but they look more dramatic as if the surface of the earth has been broken into pieces. Some of the ravines have caves, swallow holes and dolines inhabited in prehistoric times, and the history combined with the naked and bleak landscape inevitable makes a strong impression.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Putignano through Alberobello to Martina Franca</span><br />Traversing Valle d’Itra is the classic tour of trulli land, where you will see dozens of cone shaped houses with occult roof paintings dotted on every hill top. The soft hilly landscape has been cultivated for thousands of years, as can be seen from the really old gnarled and split olive tree trunks, you will pass along the way.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Maglie to Leuca</span><br />I know most people prefer the scenic drives to Santa Maria di Leuca along the coast, but to me the real Salento can be found on the inland road from Maglie going south in the hour around sunset. The water and the sun produce the most amazing light effects with colour changes from yellow, orange and red to deep purple and all shades of dark black blue, and every white building glows in the dark in a neon sort of way. It is pure magic.Italian Noteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12245223175183933299noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2143477592443111679.post-81145768717174096012010-06-03T15:42:00.003+02:002010-06-03T15:45:44.606+02:00The horror of Gallipoli<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SvM5NBjQfwc/TAex1lAVXRI/AAAAAAAAAvo/gcR755YUKls/s1600/Italian+notes-48.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 275px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SvM5NBjQfwc/TAex1lAVXRI/AAAAAAAAAvo/gcR755YUKls/s400/Italian+notes-48.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5478543005744192786" /></a><br />One museum that will always stand out in my memory is the <a href="http://www.nelsalento.com/art_000002DXX1F00.html">Museo Civico in Gallipoli</a>. The cool but crammed high vaulted room may give an innocent first impression with its numerous glass cupboards displaying the usual assortment of lost brass buttons, old coins, broken pottery, rusty weapons, weird uniforms, corals, minerals, sea shells, fossiled reptiles, and fish and animal scheletons, but if you go behind the scenes – or rather upstairs - it gets really spooky.<br /><br />I visited to museum some years ago with two small children, who found the buttons and coins rather uninteresting. After a few minutes, they got impatient, noisy and bored and wanted to move on, which attracted the attention of the young uniformed superintendent, who came up to me and offered to show us something special. His face was dead serious and there were no additional explanations, but being curious by nature the children and I followed him through a closed door and up an unlighted staircase, where he rattled his keys, unlocked another door, led us into a pitch-dark room and turned on the fluorescent lights. <br /><br />The light clicked and flickered in a sickening blue-green tone to reveal more glass cupboards filled with transparent jars the size of small bathtubs, but it took some time for the eyes to adjust. By then I spotted some brown pink organic matter in the jars, but it took me a couple of minutes to realize that the contents were human. There must have been dozens of aborted fetuses, siamese twins and children born with disfiguring handicaps, all very life-like apart from the brown discoloured hair that comes from preservation in formalin. It was horrible. Luckily my son reacted instantly: He clasped both hands over the eyes of his little sister and started to drag her out, before she could make sense of the sight, and I ran after them down the staircase. <br /><br />Back outside in the blazing Salento sun, the experience took on the nightmarish sheen of unreality, but I have never revisited the Museo Civico in Gallipoli. Instead we go across the street to the ancient olive mill in the ‘frantoi ipogei’. This will definitely not keep you awake at night, as I doubt the monstrous collection would, if I had known what to expect beforehand.Italian Noteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12245223175183933299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2143477592443111679.post-48627026855202161012010-06-01T12:16:00.005+02:002010-08-18T15:02:09.914+02:00Volunteers clean up beaches<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SvM5NBjQfwc/TATeJfF_TeI/AAAAAAAAAvA/AgZXHKRhGuo/s1600/Italian+notes-34.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 235px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SvM5NBjQfwc/TATeJfF_TeI/AAAAAAAAAvA/AgZXHKRhGuo/s400/Italian+notes-34.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477747301336174050" /></a><br />300 plastic plates, 1000 aluminium cans, 4000 glass bottles, 1000 bank notes and phone cards, 300 plastic containers, and innumerable newspapers, magazines and cigarette butts were picked up from my favourite beach on the Ionian Sea last year. A sign displays the booty under a headline saying <span style="font-style:italic;">‘La spiaggia libera è sempre meno libera’</span>, highlighting the fact that free beaches are drowning in waste and encouraging the public to leave the beaches clean.<br /><br />As usual <a href="http://www.legambiente.eu/archivi.php?idArchivio=2&id=5830">Legambiente </a>organized a nationwide beach cleaning during the last weekend of May. In 48 hours volunteers collected 50 tonnes of waste including mountains of old household appliances, lost cellular phones, used sanitary towels, building material and tires. The press release does not mention uncovered treasures, but the sand normally hides an assortment of jewelry, engagement rings, coins and other valuables. Still, I doubt the excitement of the treasure hunt can compensate for the hard work of removing other people’s garbage left along Italy’s 7.375 km coastline.<br /><br />From this point of view the state of Italian beaches at the start of the season seems downright amazing. Every spring I am ready to despair over the filth and mess left behind on the beaches by summer outings and winter storms, but come June the sand is completely clean, white and inviting. <br /><br />Thanks to the volunteers.Italian Noteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12245223175183933299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2143477592443111679.post-22824252323800452202010-05-28T14:02:00.003+02:002010-05-28T14:08:50.934+02:00Stilo between past and present<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SvM5NBjQfwc/S_-ySXn4stI/AAAAAAAAAug/I782aOQlYDc/s1600/Italian+notes-30.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 265px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SvM5NBjQfwc/S_-ySXn4stI/AAAAAAAAAug/I782aOQlYDc/s400/Italian+notes-30.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476291700554511058" /></a><br />Must have been the <span style="font-style:italic;">contr’ora</span>, cause shops were closed, windows barred and shuttered, and streets deserted on that warm July afternoon we stopped in the Calabrian town Stilo. Not even the café- bar was staffed, although we were welcome to sit down on the dirty white plastic chairs and rest our feet in the shadow of an Algida sponsored umbrella. For some reason my memories of small town Calabria are always devoid of people, yet I find the remote villages and abandoned buildings closed in between the sea, the sky, the ravines and the mountains absolutely fascinating.<br /><br />It may be a lingering impression from the past. Since the seventh century, hermit monks from the Arabian deserts were whirled out in the periphery of the Byzantine Empire by the increasing domination of monasticism. The monks sought refuge in the sparsely populated Calabrian mountains, where they could pursue their solitary quest for God, but by and by their numbers became so large that their influence seeped through all aspects of religious life. The eastern monks founded churches and monasteries, they preserved and transmitted oriental rites, cults and lithurgy to the locals, and they more or less re-conquered Calabria from Lombard rule. <br /><br />To me the austerity and seclusion of the hermits still permeates some of the most inaccessible areas of Calabria. All it takes to bring back a sense of the early monastic orders is a vivid imagination and a view of a cave that may have been used as a human dwelling dug into the rocks. <br /><br />Today Stilo is not a rock settlement, but a town populated by almost 3000 people, whom I did not meet, but across the piazza I saw a rundown souvenir shop with a window exhibition of brown and light blue ceramic plates, figurines, amphorae, and a poster praising ‘La Cattolica di Stilo’. Ever curious, we took the car and drove a bit further op the mountain, where the road ended in a parking lot and a foot path. A few Italian tourists had also found their way up the mountain, and a kiosk selling lollipops, granite and canned drinks offered refreshments. Cattolica di Stilo is a major sight and according to explanatory signs even listed as UN World Heritage.<br />We walked a few hundred metres along a low stone wall separating the path from the precipice. Far below the Ionian Sea looked like an overgrown pond, while Stilo revealed itself as a rather ordinary church and a block of squared white houses surrounded by a circular road.<br /><br />The ‘downtown’ church with its carved façade, cupola and clock tower formed a striking contrast to the red building at the end of the foot path. The Cattolica di Stilo is a tiny red-brick building with unnoticeable exterior decorations apart from five austere periscope domes topped by a wavy perm of roof tiles. Inside the church has a Greek cross plan inscribed within a square and three apses symmetrically arranged around a central dome. The vaults are supported by columns plundered from ancient buildings in Magna Graecia and resting on bases formed by upturned capitals. The interior was once entirely covered with frescoes with strictly Christian motifs and were also several inscriptions in Arabic.<br /><br />The construction reflects the strictly sober beliefs of the Byzantine monks, and according to UN World Heritage the Cattolica di Stilo is considered the most representative of the Byzantine Basilian monuments. It was built between the tenth and eleventh centuries, when Stilo was the leading Byzantine centre of the region and a magnet for hermits and monks, who found shelter in its caves, creating an extremely important rock settlement in the area. Other examples of Basilian architecture in Calbria include S. Maria della Roccella in Squillace (Catanzaro), San Giovanni Teresti in Bivongi (Reggio Calabria), Santa Filomena in Santa Severina (Crotone) and San Marco and Santa Maria del Pathirion in Rossano (Cosenza) <br /><br />The Cattolica di Stilo was destroyed in an earth quake in 1783, but surviving elements are largely intact, and the reconstruction has been based upon authentic architectural designs and structures. Driving down the hairpin turns, I saw the lights being turned on in Stilo, while children on tricycles and old men seeking company filled the piazza as an outdoor living room, and realized that small insignificant buildings can have great importance for understanding past and present.Italian Noteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12245223175183933299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2143477592443111679.post-14243931484197865292010-05-21T15:52:00.005+02:002010-07-27T09:21:43.902+02:00Bathing in the Pontine Marshes<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SvM5NBjQfwc/S_aQJ4Kh0gI/AAAAAAAAAto/5u5cUuoQ1bY/s1600/Italian+notes-22.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 183px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_SvM5NBjQfwc/S_aQJ4Kh0gI/AAAAAAAAAto/5u5cUuoQ1bY/s400/Italian+notes-22.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473720896485184002" /></a><br />One of the most fascinating things about Italy are the layers upon layers of history and stories hidden in every hamlet. Take the modern holiday resort Terracina south west of Rome as an example. A completely average tourist destination with a wide choice of hotels, restaurants, beach umbrellas and gelateria … yet on top of a 200 metre cliff you see the ancient Temple of Jupiter Anxur with its characteristic columns, and the more than 2000 year old Via Appia passes through town.<br /><br />The historian Titus Livius, who lived from 59 BC to AD 17 under emperor Augustus, described Terracina as <span style="font-style:italic;">'Urbs prona in paludes'</span> or a city in the swamps, for even though Appius, the Roman censor that began and completed the first section of the military road to the south of Italy, did his utmost to drain the land by constructing embankments and dig channels along the road, the area between Rome and Terracina remained a swamp of 800 km2 impenetrable and slimy water, where malaria mosquitos were the only species to thrive. <br /><br />Up to the 20th century the Pontian Marshes or Agro Pontinoro were considered seriously unhealthy, and writers like Goethe and the Dane Vilhelm Bergsøe have produced choking accounts of the dangers lurking outside the sourthern walls of Rome. Even Hans Christian Andersen, who is generally enraptured by all things Italian including the great road leading through the marshes and the ‘fresh, green swamp growth’ notes ‘the poisonous air emanating from the swamp. The chalked walls were all covered in a fat, bluegreen mould. Buildings, like people, were marked by beginning breath of decomposition, in strange contrast to the rich beauty of the surroundings, the fresh green and the warm sunshine.’ (my translation)<br /><br />The problem with the Pontian Marshes is that the land rises up towards the coast, which means that rivers and brooks from the mountain inland do not reach the sea. In spite of numerous attempts throughout the ages, the area was not properly irrigated until Mussolini launched his great plan for the area. The fascists dug three canals that accumulated water from the hills and led it out to sea. Lowlands were pumped dry, and 2000 families – most of them from northern Italy – were transferred to the area. Each family was given a farm house with barns, animals and various farming tools and equipment to encourage land cultivation. Mussolini saw the project as a great success and it was frequently used in propaganda as an example of the greatest progress that solved the challenges of unemployment, emigration and self-sufficiency in one go.<br /><br />Something to think about while you rinse your swimsuit, shop in the local Conad and enjoy the sunset over Mont Circeo in a perfumed cloud of mosquito repellent.Italian Noteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12245223175183933299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2143477592443111679.post-62433878581341441852010-05-19T14:02:00.003+02:002010-05-19T14:09:33.677+02:00Capers in all crevices<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SvM5NBjQfwc/S_PUrL2-zHI/AAAAAAAAAs4/jtlHmAZjZSs/s1600/Italian+notes-16.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 232px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_SvM5NBjQfwc/S_PUrL2-zHI/AAAAAAAAAs4/jtlHmAZjZSs/s400/Italian+notes-16.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472951810568146034" /></a><br />Outside my Italian cottage we have two large bushes carrying a summer wig of white flowers. Or to be quite honest, I have only experienced the profusion of flowers once, as every spring my neighbour the <span style="font-style:italic;">Contadina </span>demonstratively rips off each and every one of the delicate flowers with their long purplish-pink stamens and throws them on the ground. <br /><br />- If the bush flowers, it will not produce berries, and capers are great taste givers. Who needs flowers anyway, she says with determination. My objections that these flowers look quite pretty, are answered with a <span style="font-style:italic;">‘bo’</span> which is Apulian for <span style="font-style:italic;">‘beh</span>’ in the meaning ‘I don’t know and I couldn’t care less’.<br /><br />Since then she has consequently deflowered by bushes very early every morning, unless I make sure to get to the flowers first. She also likes to pick the berries, which is one of the tasks one cannot leave to a <span style="font-style:italic;">straniera</span>, though she has started to trust me, after she developed a strange kind of capers allergy on her hands, and had to dress each finger in tissue paper and cellotape. Now I am allowed to harvest my own capers under her strict supervision.<br /><br />- Remember only to pick the large buds. The small ones absorb too much salt. <span style="font-style:italic;">Mangia sale</span>, she says, and normally I listen and do as I’m told. After all, she has almost 80 years experience in preserving capers, and she has kindly shown me how the flower buds should be nipped and cleaned, before they are placed in sterilized jars and covered in layers of salt and water. <br /><br />When the bright green buds change colour the capers are ready to eat, and with two old bushes you – and your extended family - will never run out of this kind of food seasoning and garnish. Each summer produces 10-15 jam jars full of capers, which is more than most Scandinavian families consume in a life-time.<br /><br />In addition I am still allowed to enjoy the sight and smell of the vaguely fragrant flowers every time I pass by old Italian castles or town walls. Caper bushes grow in the most incredible places, but seem to have a preference for ancient stones and archeological sites. You see it climbing the walls of the Colosseum and Forum Romanum, it can be found among the ruins of Pompeii and in column crevices in Pestum and Agrigento.<br /><br />The only place you will not find capers are in South Italian supermarket and grocery stores. Massive free supplies are available to all locals, and lazy housewives stock up at the olive pusher in the weekly market. He does not, however, sell the big caperberries that I have only ever come <span style="font-style:italic;">across </span>in northern European specialty shops. Therefore I have tried to convince the Contadina that we might leave some flowers on the bush and watch them become berries, but this idea will definitely not take root and grow in her (or her neighbour’s) garden.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SvM5NBjQfwc/S_PUmaQ0glI/AAAAAAAAAsw/fJPt9Bpzb80/s1600/Italian+notes-17.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 233px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SvM5NBjQfwc/S_PUmaQ0glI/AAAAAAAAAsw/fJPt9Bpzb80/s400/Italian+notes-17.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472951728535274066" /></a>Italian Noteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12245223175183933299noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2143477592443111679.post-81219295596467857612010-05-18T13:43:00.003+02:002010-08-18T15:02:21.866+02:00Please, let’s talk Italian<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SvM5NBjQfwc/S_J97x73AyI/AAAAAAAAAsY/vHKbyozHwmU/s1600/Italian+notes-12.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 263px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_SvM5NBjQfwc/S_J97x73AyI/AAAAAAAAAsY/vHKbyozHwmU/s400/Italian+notes-12.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472574963178734370" /></a><br />I don’t mean to ridicule inferior language skills or silly typing mistakes (I know I do more than my fair share) and besides I think any attempt at using a foreign language should be encouraged, but I am sooo tired of Italian waiters and concierges who insist on speaking English, when their guests address them in perfectly understandable Italian, and when their English vocabulary is limited to “okay”, “Yes” and “No”. At tourist destinations, it happens all the time, and I don’t think I am the only one who finds it a bit trying.<br /><br />Granted, I speak Italian with a funny accent, and people are welcome to laugh, but I have studied the language for 6 years and passed several exams, I read Dante, Moravia and Pirandello slowly but without filter, and I get by on a daily basis with all it takes of banking transactions, political discussions and friendly banter. Yet when I enter a restaurant in Mid- or Northern Italy, the staff rolls their eyes or point, shout and treat me as an imbecile who is only capable of understanding one-syllable words. <br /><br />At the same time I am handed poorly translated menus that are either indecipherable or make me lose my appetite. I have no idea what is meant by “tidbits of still meat” in a main course, but I am not sure I like it. Just as I am not too keen on “scrumbled eggs”, “wet bread with oil”, “Ewe’s typical cheese”, “organic cereals and pulse” or “vegetables in thousands of ways and numerous sweet ought-nots” to quote but a few of the menus, I have come across lately. The translations do not make sense. But I am sure it would sound absolutely mouthwatering and irresistible in an Italian menu.<br /><br />So, if you want happy and satisfied tourists, who talk of their holidays in Italy as a success, try to respect their choice of language, when handling simple verbal transactions like a restaurant order. Most of us are extraordinary proud of ourselves, when we manage to order a cup of coffee in a foreign language, and if you have attended language school through a long, dark, cold North European winter, it is incredibly disappointing, when no one has the patience to try to understand you when on holiday. <br /><br />I know the Italian waiter has probably got the same urge to practice English (or German), but why doesn’t he or she save it for tourists that are at a complete loss for words, chat up a friendly foreigner in the street or perhaps consider a holiday abroad?Italian Noteshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12245223175183933299noreply@blogger.com0