“Like all great travelers, I have seen more than I remember, and remember more than I have seen.” – Benjamin Disraeli
Bari, Italy
Our not quite long enough Balkan Circle tour almost closes the loop as we return to Italy. And Bari, near the southern heel of the country, is an unexpected delight. We had read there was an Old Town area with historic buildings and fine narrow streets to explore. And we had seen “The Life Ahead,” a wonderful 2020 Sofia Loren movie which is set in Bari. It’s based on the 1975 novel The Life Before Us, by Romain Gary, and originally set in Paris. (Check out the trailer.)
Our ferry from Corfu arrived around midday in Igoumenitza, a port city on the Greek mainland which we’d never heard of. We drag our bags a few blocks in a continuing light rain, to the large, and largely empty, International Ferry Port building. A quick lunch at the snack shop and the latest TV news – in Greek – tides us over until the Superfast Ferry office clerk sells us tickets on the overnight ferry, leaving at midnight.
We have a long wait ahead of us. The rain has paused, and we have a sunny afternoon ahead, so we take a walk to see what there is of Igoumenitza, besides a sometimes-busy ferry terminal. From our arrival ship it all looked like a modest small city. And actually, that’s pretty much what we find during our time ashore.
It’s a nice-enough quiet place with no real pretensions to the legendary figures of antiquity who have passed through here on their way to historic events elsewhere. A block from the port there’s a divided roadway with a couple of local dogs in their favorite yoga pose – I believe it’s called the “dead dog” pose, if memory serves me well. And dogs around the world, after centuries of intense practice, generally have it perfected. There are beauty parlors and a nice little coffee shop-bakery where we can kill some time.
We make our way back to the ferry terminal to settle in with a couple of beers and an evening snack, and enjoy a fútbol game between teams we don’t know. And we watch the time slowly pass until our ferry is finally at the top of the departure board.
As the clock nears midnight, we drag our bags outside into a renewed rainfall to the long dock to wait. Various ferries arrive and depart, and ours finally heaves into view. The captain edges the bow past the dock, then he swings the giant beast around, and backs toward our position – with massive engines roaring and the huge tail gate opening like a giant’s maw. We back away from the edge. The gate clangs down hard on the concrete dock and the ship starts emptying its load of trucks, before the others start charging onboard. It's quite a delicate ballet, involving lots of heavy machinery and a loud engine.
The rain squall intensifies and passengers dodge the trucks to hurry aboard into the safety and warmth of the ship. We quickly find our nice cabin and toss our gear inside, before heading to the cafeteria area for a relaxing post-midnight drink. Many passengers have co-opted couches and corners and stairwells to bed down for the night.
A sunny morning greets us as we near the Italian coast, and we’re soon docked in Bari. Then there’s a waiting period as the trucks charge onto the land, making it safe for the foot passengers, and the dogs, to depart.
As we mill about on the dock to get our bearings I notice the heavy triple-axle arrangement of the trucks and wonder if it’s a European Union standard to avoid damaging roads by spreading the weight. From here we need to find the local shuttle bus. And also admire the quaintly-outfitted Carabinieri as they assume their guard duties.
The shuttle bus drops us off at Bari’s very pretty train station, which is only a few blocks from the apartment we’ve rented for the night.
Along the way we pass some graffiti that maybe says “Renzi Sucks” in Italian port slang. But Google Translate thinks it’s in Croatian and says “Renzi the Judge.” We don’t know. But we’ve made arrangements to meet up with some friends in Sorrento, which is on the other side of Italy, and it’s unfortunate that we’ll only have one night to look around Bari. This old port city seems to have a busy and non tourist-centered cultural life, and that’s very appealing.
We’re a bit early at the apartment, so we find a nice place called Dolce e Pane that's just about a block away, and enjoy a quick lunch. The food is good and we get the impression that it’s a popular place for locals.
At the apartment building a small elevator is posted with helpful instructions. And then a lady we pass in the lobby gives us plenty of additional helpful information. Also in Italian. Which we don’t capiamo. We nod and say molte grazie and make our way to our nice apartment overlooking the train station and the tracks that we’ll be riding on in the morning.
But it’s time to explore as much of the city and its leafy walkways as we can in the few hours we have available. Our early impressions generally are that Bari is less tourist-trammeled and is a more modest Italian town than some others we’ve seen. If we were looking for Bari tourist trinkets we’d be disappointed by the lack of trinket stands around the city. But the high fashion shops are certainly impressive. Carolyn thought I might look good in one of those snappy sport coats, and I could wear it to the local Opera. But there was no extra room in my rolling bag, and that probably saved me a few hundred bucks. And besides, how often would I wear that back home in our little Mexican beach town?
Soon we’re into a charming warren of narrow alleyways that make up the Bari Vecchia, the city’s old town. And we find a scattering of tourist shops, including a colorful display of puppetry with a discrete sign requesting a few coins for taking photos. But the overall vibe is that of a city quarter populated by its people. The laundry hanging from balconies, colorful Vespas parked in corners, open-air dining, and the scent of red sauce over pasta coming from second-floor kitchens tell us this is very much a living part of the city.
And then there’s the imposing Basilica Pontificia San Nicola, with a pair of curiously eroded cows by the entryway. This place is said to contain the bones of jolly old St. Nick – at least that’s the current image we know so well, thanks to those ubiquitous ads by Coca Cola. And all those good, and really awful, films that Hollywood churns out every December.
Little is known about the real St Nicolas, who lived in perilous times under the Roman Emperor Diocletian, but he is reputed to have performed acts of generosity and several kindly miracles. And he is the patron saint of – among various others in need of his assistance – sailors, repentant thieves, brewers, pawnbrokers, and prostitutes. He sounds like the kind of guy you might want to have a beer with. And maybe have around to stop some guy who wants to lop your head off.
And so, if you’re looking to lose yourself in a quaint medieval labyrinth of narrow passages that’s off the well-trod tourist trail, Bari might be a good place to wander and have a cappuccino. Or a tot of the local grappa.
We wandered onward past the old fort and into the newer city streets to find a simple and excellent place for dinner with a bunch of students next to the University. It’s hard to imagine a nicer way to end our day. In the morning we’ll board a fast train for Sorrento to meet up with our good friends Dr Jaime Torres and Norma Beserra.
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Sorrento
In the morning we head for the nearby Bari Centrale station and grab a few quick breakfast bites for the train to Sorrento. Along the tracks are poster reminders that the democracy of the European Union depends upon its citizens. And all through Europe there are specialized train cars for carrying bicycles, which remain a viable and healthy choice for transport to and from the station.
Soon we’re in comfortable seats aboard a very nice, and very fast (300km/h+) Frecciarossa train across southern Italy, from Bari on the Adriatic Coast to famous Sorrento on the Tyrrhenian Sea. It’s a rainy day in October as the first hints of late Fall suggest we’re nearing the end of our excellent 2022 Euro-trek. Acres of vineyards and gardens pass by our window, happily bathed in the replenishing rains.
We’re soon in the large central station of Naples to make our transfer to the local Circumvesuviana train that goes to Sorrento. We’re waiting now for our friends from Mexico, Dr Jaime Torres and Norma Beserra, to join us on a train arriving from Rome, so we grab a snack or two. And several talented travelers play some very good tunes on the piano nestled against a wall in the food court.
Then we join the crowd to keep an eye on the big board that lists arrivals and departures. Soon Jaime and Norma arrive and we all board our next train for the short ride to Sorrento. They have recently relocated to charming Guanajuato after Jaime retired from his practice in Hermosillo; Norma continues writing books and speaking on health-related topics.
It’s late afternoon when we arrive in Sorrento, so Jaime and Norma head for the apartment they’ve rented, while Carolyn and I check in to the sweet little place she managed to find for us, with a balcony overlooking the nicely-planted entry walkway. We’ll enjoy a quiet dinner on the veranda, with a variety of good salads and other fare we picked up at a local store. There will be time tomorrow to join our friends and explore this famous place. Ah, the luxury of fine travel. And a modest budget makes it more interesting.
After a quiet night in our secluded apartment the vertiginous views from Sorrento’s cliffside location were more than we had expected. I’d heard the name of Sorrento tossed out in occasional conversations, but really knew nothing about the place. It’s sort of an Italian version of Aspen, and other pricey locales we don’t normally hang around in.
We joined Jaime and Norma for a fine bit of breakfast and a good dose of Italian caffeine to power the morning. And then our daily wanderings began, past lush public squares, gorgeous hotels we can’t afford, a very large guy in a tiny old Fiat, some funny garden statuary. There was an intriguing place along the cliff edge called La Limonaia and we promised to return, but somehow didn’t.
If you’re the kind of person (as we are) with an affliction for wandering gorgeous narrow alleyways, there are plenty of those here to satisfy your aimless needs. We pass playbills for last year’s excellent classical music events (sorry we missed that!), and there are lots of places that will be delighted to help you test your credit card limit. You can stop by the Terrazza Sirene to sign up for the ‘Foreigner’s Club.’ And, now and then, you’ll find an open overlook to the broad Bay of Naples and the yachts far below, with Mt Vesuvius looming in the misty distance. At her feet lie the ancient doomed cities of Pompeii and Herculaneum, and we’ll be there in just a few days.
From our viewpoint it’s easy to imagine crowds of local citizens in the old Roman town of Surrentum standing here to witness the terrible violence that rained down upon those doomed nearby cities in 79AD. They were surely praying to their gods to spare them from the toxic clouds that the prevailing autumn winds swept over many communities just to the east of here. Various archeological studies have found plenty of evidence of late summer crops in the ruins, along with clay vessels full of wine from the recent harvest, and have dated the eruption in the autumn of 79AD.
Pliny the Elder observed the eruption from across the bay where he was living with his sister and his nephew (later known as Pliny the Younger). Besides being a noted scientist, author, and confidant of the Emperor, Pliny was also, at the time, fleet commander at the important Roman naval base of Misenum, When he received word via horse messenger that a friend was in die need of evacuation from the volcanic plume he mounted a desperate rescue operation to Stabiae. But after his arrival the prevailing onshore winds prevented his ships from departing, and they were trapped on the shore. He died there and his body was later found among the ashes, while Pliny the Younger later provided the only written eyewitness account to the historian Tacitus.
In Roman times, the area that was destroyed by the eruption included a collection of resort communities, and vacation homes for the wealthy. Among the few identifiable victims were a princess and her son from the distant Kingdom of Edom, just south of the Dead Sea. And there was a wealthy young woman who is now known as the “Ring Lady,” for the ruby and sapphire rings that were found on her left hand. Other pieces of jewelry were also found near her remains.
For the convenience of those who feel compelled to toast the heroic failed rescue effort of Pliny and the many other victims of Vesuvius, there’s now a brewery in Northern California that produces a highly regarded IPA named “Pliny the Elder.” And there’s a YouTube clip of a Brit who happily rhapsodizes over this fine pour.
We follow a steep and winding roadway to the port at the bottom, with some excellent overlooks along the way. And it’s easy to see why Sorrento is high on the list for anyone in need of gorgeous landscapes to fixate upon. The spectacular cliffhanging buildings looming over the port – and over us! – lead us to hope there’s no local seismic – or volcanic! – activity planned for the very near future.
Back up the cliff at street level, it’s time to enjoy yet another excellent Mediterranean lunch.
And then, for anyone who is vexed with an excess of financial resources, there are plenty of narrow alleys filled with helpful merchants who are highly capable of assisting to relieve your distress. (“Wealth is Disease and I am the Cure,” from “The Holdup” by David Bromberg.)
There’s also ice cream (!) for those with that insatiable craving on a warm fall afternoon. A tot of delicious Limoncello, fresh from the local Fabbrica, makes for a fine followup, and a welcome prelude to an afternoon nap back in the apartment.
Later, as a gentle Italian evening spreads across the sky, ‘like a patient etherized upon a table’ (apologies to TS Eliot) we find ourselves returning to the streets, and to the glowing windows of a fabulous dress store adjacent to the Cathedral where a musical evening is scheduled. From the elaborate light show playing upon the facade we’re guessing the event won’t be something ordinary.
The extravagant lighting continues within the Cathedral as we brace ourselves for a very special evening. Eugenio Bennato and Le Voci del Sud are on tap and they deliver the occasion. Bennato is from Naples and has been a well-known folksinger and songwriter since 1969. In recent years he has written and performed music that celebrates the culture of southern Italy with his group Taranto Power.
We emerged after the concert under a misty moon, and once again we’re grateful to find such amazing events (and they’re often free!) everywhere we travel – as long as we remain open to the many possibilities around us.
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Pompeii
Is there something morbid about visiting what is possibly one of the most
famous of all dead cities in history? We don’t know. And we don’t know what we may learn from the experience as we board the Circumvesuviana train from Sorrento station. Some of our fellow passengers appear as if they’re trying to recover from a festive weekend before heading back to Naples, and they just don’t have that glued-to-the-windows look of tourists such as us.
It’s a short ride to Pompeii Scavi station, and then suddenly we’re right at the foot of the ruins. The remains of the city, which once had a population of 70,000, were trekked by 2 to 3 million visitors every year before the pandemic, and the site is again gaining in popularity. We arrive in mid-October, after the largest crowds of summer, but there are still plenty of fellow travelers to share these ancient streets. The sound of modern footsteps, and the murmur of numerous languages, is probably similar to the sounds of daily commerce that echoed from these stone walls and cobblestones just before the eruption that ended it all.
And no matter where we find ourselves in this sprawling warren of streets and alleys, the towering shape of Vesuvius looms nearby.
Romans were quick to adopt many styles of the Greeks, who held a special place for them as an advanced older civilization of arts, literature and philosophy. The wealthy city of Corinth was among the first Greek city-states conquered by the Romans (in 146 BC) and the extravagant Corinthian column quickly became a favorite symbol of wealth (after the Roman army demolished the city of Corinth, of course), with its ornate capital swathed in luxuriant acanthus leaves. And today we can still see the attraction of this plant, which grows prodigiously in countries along the Mediterranean, wrapping itself gracefully around carved stone benches and fallen columns.
Pompeii appears to have been a reasonably prosperous and artistic place to live during the early expansionist days of the Roman Empire. The beautiful mosaic floors, painted wall murals, well-crafted masonry, and fine sculpture that survived the tragedy show a keen interest, at least among the wealthy, in supporting the arts.
The simple merchant stalls, the lunch counters with their sunken circular food pots, the orderly street layout, the now-peaceful vistas, the many wine amphorae, and the cats(!), which might well be related to those who survived here long ago, all give us insight to the simple quotidian life of the city.
It’s easy to conjure the sounds of children in Pompeii playing stick ball and other games in these streets long ago. There were kids going off to classes back then, just as today, and to dance lessons and music lessons. And surely there were restless teenagers and other rowdies racing their horses and chariots through town, as worried parents screamed “Slow down!”
And towering over it all, much the same as in those peaceful days before the eruption, are the majestic Mediterranean pines, described so well in music by Ottorino Respighi in his joyous and eloquent “Pini di Roma” (1924). Listen especially for the triumphant ending score that celebrates the famous Pines lining the Appian Way.
But a visit to the onsite museum, and its contorted plaster castings of victims of the eruption, pulls us back to the terrible reality of that horrible day when it all ended for these people. What may have been an easy life, far from the predations of the Roman Legions upon other nations, became a tragedy for Pompeii, as its citizens were suddenly the victims of gigantic natural forces beyond their control.
The so-called Pax Romana had its share of turbulence: the destruction of Pompeii was preceded by the often chaotic 14 year reign of Nero – which included murdering his own mother – and ended in 68AD when he committed suicide at the age of 30. The following year, the first civil war of the Roman Empire, is known as The Year of Four Emperors when various factions vied for control. Vespasian emerged as the victor in 69AD and brought a relative degree of prosperity and tranquility to the Empire until his death from an infection in June of 79AD; among Vespasian’s best-known works is the famous Colosseum of Rome.
Vespasian was succeeded by his son Titus who was noted for his bloody victory in the First Jewish-Roman War and his destruction of the Second Temple. But within just a few months of becoming Emperor, Titus was faced with the eruption of Vesuvius and the terrible suffering in its aftermath.
There had long been powerful destructive earthquakes and minor rumbles along the bay of Naples, and it was a feature of life here. So when the two-day event of the eruption began, there may have been many who simply ignored the early stages before the cataclysm. But many perished here, and in the aftermath historical sources record that Titus was generous with his personal fortune in providing aid to the victims and rebuilding important works in some of the nearby communities that escaped the complete destruction of Pompeii and Herculaneum.
Titus also ended the practice of continual trials for treason of those who opposed the current regime, followed by their execution, which had vexed the Empire since early in the reign of Augustus. He was quoted by the historian Cassius Dio as saying,
“It is impossible for me to be insulted or abused in any way. For I do naught that deserves censure, and I care not for what is reported falsely. As for the emperors who are dead and gone, they will avenge themselves in case anyone does them a wrong, if in very truth they are demigods and possess any power.”
But Titus died at the age of 41 after only 2 years in office. His death was possibly accelerated (according to such writers and historians as Philostratus, Suetonius and Cassius Dio) through the alleged actions of his younger brother Domitian, who would rule for the next 15 years before his own assassination at the age of 44. Roman Emperors often played to a tough crowd.
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At the end of the day, the adventurers have put in many miles on the old cobblestone streets and we’re ready for the train back to Sorrento. And some delicious pizza with side veggies, followed by a short nap.
There’s a classical music concert planned for our last evening in Sorrento back at the Cathedral, and so we fortify ourselves with a round of lemon-based tots at a quiet bistro beforehand. And after another fine concert we’ll nod off to the bliss of Morpheus, to be ready for the leg of our trip – by fast ferry across the Bay of Naples to the restless city of Napoli.
Please join us there for the next chapter! — PRW