Superb Holiday II – Sicily 2018

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The following is a recap of our 23-day trip to Sicily, taking in Beaune, France; Genoa, Napoli, Siracusa, Palermo, Matera and Bologna, Italy; Salzburg, Austria; Metz, France. It was trouble-free, except for two self-inflicted wounds to the Big Red Bus. It will take me some time to post all 23 days, so bear with me.

 

5 September 2018

London to Laon to Beaune

 

We caught the 08:50 Eurotunnel as is our routine and left Calais about 10:45, running about 20 minutes late. Our first stop was Laon for lunch. We’ve been here a number of times. It’s a very convenient, attractive little town, placed atop a hill. SatNav took us to the car park and we walked to the cathedral, then ate opposite. Can’t remember what. I usually take notes or photos on a trip to help remember what the heck I got up to, but didn’t this time for some unexplainable reason. Laziness? Been there, done that?

 

Cathédrale Notre-Dame de Laon

 

Rue Châtelaine, Laon

 

This must be Laon Blue. We saw it all over town

 

We burned off a few calories walking down the high street and returned to the car. Then, headed back to the autoroute. I used to avoid the autoroutes unless I really had to make time. Plus, TGBITW (The Gorgeous Blonde I Travel With) hated a motorway slogg on the back of the bike, and who could blame her? I hated the nuisance of the toll booth: kill bike in gear, gloves off, fish for the cash/card, start bike and pull to the shoulder from the toll booth to replace all my gear. Much worse in the rain. Have you ever tried to put wet hands in a motorcycle glove?

 

This trip was all autoroute/autostrade/autobahn. £255.89 we paid in tolls, not counting the £20 for an Austrian vignette. The German Autobahn was free, but we averaged 30 mph from Munich to Ulm and to the French border. We were two hours late to Metz. To be fair, the roadworks from Folkestone to the M25 added an hour to our trip home, but I digress…

 

By 18:30, we were in Beaune, France. Wine country. We stayed in a B&B: Chez Marie. She and her partner served breakfast in their family room and it was very nice. Homemade yoghurt and jams. Fruit. It was served at a large table with the other guests, in this case all 20-something Americans from San Diego and MInnesota, so communication wasn’t a problem. The problem was that we were so much older, no one was interested in us. Oh, well…

 

Beaune is a very pretty town and the historical hospital its main attraction besides the cathedral and vintners. The place is very popular with tourists. I hadn’t considered that we would need dinner reservations on a Wednesday. Every place was packed, unless you fancied a kebab. The second time we passed Bacchus, a steak house, a table was free. The woman that ran the place was very friendly and we usually eat late, anyway.

 

Beaune centre and first glass of Beaune Village 

 

Beaune. More full restaurants

 

We passed a sleepless night in Marie’s. Our room was at ground level and the windows opened right onto the street. From 01:00 to 06:30 it was silent, just couldn’t get comfortable on the too firm mattress. Noise from the communal areas seeped into the room when it was time to go to breakfast, the best part of the stay.

 

Thursday 6 September, Beaune

 

Next day, we visited the hospital and cathedral, but not before stopping first at a restaurant we liked the look of to make a dinner reservation. The hospital/museum Hôtel-Dieu was worth the price of admission, though we stopped listening to the overly dramatic audio guide after the first couple of episodes. The hospital was funded by the wine trade as the town is now funded by tourism. You pay London prices in this small town. I keep thinking that wine in a wine producing area might be a bit cheaper, but no. If you need a stopover in a small town (Dijon is nice, but big and a pain to get in and out of) try Autun, instead of Beaune. Wine’s cheaper there, too.

 

Musée de l’Hotel-Dieu, the hospital and museum entrance

 

Hospital courtyard

 

Hospital bed. Are you superstitious?

 

Hospital stained glass detail

 

Tapestry in hospital museum. St Eligius and The Legend of the Shoeing of the Horse. Sheesh!

 

Detail from The Last Judgement by Rogier Van der Weyden

 

Oh yeah, our dinner in Caves Madelaine was very nice. Another bench table setting and our neighbours were from Swampscott, so we had Boston in common. He was a wine connoisseur and there were some pricey bottles on the menu. We just had a glass of the house white and house red. The gazpacho was excellent, the chicken that followed fairly unremarkable and more than I could eat. Still had room for dessert, though. Dessert was to feature at most meals on this trip and I had somehow forgotten to pack my blood sugar testing kit. And the Yanks, both lawyers, were good company. In fact, we all went together to have a look at the evening illuminations on the side of the hospital and Notre Dame.

 

Beaune town detail 

 

Notre-Dame

 

Notre-Dame illuminations

 

Notre-Dame detail

 

Nice set of pipes. Notre-Dame

 

After we parted company, Jo and I discovered a small bar with a singer and guitarist doing requests. They sang Leon Russell’s This Masquerade for me to close the night.

 

Edited 10 August, 2019 by freelunch

[freelunch]

Friday 7 September
Beaune to Chamonix to Genova

 

I figure, leave by 10:00, drive for three hours takes you to lunch. Google Maps said Chamonix. I found Les Délice just off the autoroute at Les Houches two months before we arrived. I had 26 destinations programmed into my SatNav (lovingly called Susan) and Les Délice was No. 3. We sat on the terrace outside under beautiful blue skies. Sent my first Instagram of Joanna surrounded by steeply pitched ski lodge roofs. I think I had a burger and we were back on the road.

 

Les Délice, Les Houches, Chamonix

The general direction of Mt Blanc from Italy

 

I never thought UK petrol prices were cheap, but on the continent the price of fuel is 20% higher than here. The trip was 3,526 miles and petrol cost £600. The upside was my 2-litre, turbo-charged petrol engine got 38.6 mpg on the trip – and it’s a heavy car. Not bad. It’s not the 52 mpg I used to get on the FJR, but I’m not complaining.

 

We hit Genoa at rush hour. It was bright and I had my sunglasses on. There is a series of tunnels leading into the centre, none of them straight, none of them lit,  all of them three narrow lanes wide with nose-to-tail vehicles exceeding the posted speed limit by at least 20 kph. Yee-ha!!! Susan made sure I was in the correct lane and knew when to turn, so I just had to watch the traffic. It was like a bombing run on the Death Star.

 

Then we came to a stop. It took half an hour to do the next mile, but we eventually ended up in front of the building housing our B&B. I double-parked while trying to find the entry and after several minutes, finally decided to call. Gianni said he’d be right down. He arrived, a car pulled out and I had a parking spot right in front of our B&B for the next three days.

 

With what was left of the daylight, we walked along the seafront to Boccadasse, a small fishing harbour and tourist focal point. People were getting paper cones of fried fish from a van and carrying them down to the pebble beach. We opted for a restaurant. Management was chatting to passers by and bringing food and drink to the kids on the beach at the edge of their terrace. It was fun, but the bottle of wine was probably a mistake. My photos on the walk home were a bit blurred. I kept thinking we should have got the fried fish in the paper cone.

 

Overlooking the promenade to Boccadasse, Genoa

Seafront, Genoa

Boccadasse

Boccadasse harbour

 

Saturday 8 September, Genoa

 

Saturday morning, we had breakfast with Gianni. Our age, he’s a retired lawyer from a family of sea captains. He lives in the same apartment as his father and grandfather did before him. He loves Genoa and had lots to tell us, which sights to see, which restaurants to visit. He likes people. And, he serves a nice breakfast with strong coffee he makes in a small, octagonal pot and brings sizzling to the terrace table, which has a view to the shipping lanes. Gianni made our stay. I showed him the list of restaurants I made. He grabbed a pen and marked No! or Si! Trattoria Ugo got Si! Si!

 

The view from our breakfast terrace, Genoa

 

Today, we would visit the old town. I had a look at our car on the way out the front door. If you were lucky, you might slip a Genoa salami between my car and the little cars that had me in a Genovese sandwich. Well, I didn’t have to move it until Monday morning…

 

Genovese-style parking, or Škoda sandwich

 

Wandering in the general direction of Catedral San Lorenzo, we stumbled upon Trattoria Ugo (Si! Si!) and the owner was just opening up. He smiled as I reserved a table for lunch in Italian. When we returned three hours later, he greeted me in English. I got a DuolIngo app and learned sentences comprised of  207 Italian words before the trip. It did help, but I never got to use balena, squalo or delfino as they never showed up on a menu. But, I was glad I took the time. It certainly helped when I had the tyre problem later. Pneumatico, I had to look up. Google translate is wonderful, the good side of my love/hate relationship.

 

I digress. We visited the cathedral; Piazza della Maddalena was of special interest to me; we stopped in a grand café for a couple glasses of Prosecco, which came with what some might consider “lunch” for free: focaccia, mini-pizzas, crisps. And, as usual, only one person handles money in Italy. Pay first, then present your receipt to the bar staff, um, I learned after getting it bass ackwards. In a restaurant, the waiter brings your bill, you take it to the register to pay. Easy once you get the hang of it. Tricky if after twenty minutes you’re still waiting for the waiter to come back to the table with a credit card reader. These are the things you only do once.

 

Chiesa di San Donato, Old Town, Genoa

Old Town graffiti and The Gorgeous Blonde I Travel With

Old Town shop

Old Town shop

Old Town shop detail

Cattedrale di San Lorenzo, Old Town, Genoa

Cathedral entry arch

 
San Lorenzo detail

San Lorenzo detail

San Lorenzo detail

 
Chiesa di Santa Maria Maddalena detail

Old Town street detail

First drink of the day

Frittura di pesci, Trattoria Ugo, Genoa

Piazza de Ferrari, Genoa

Some church on the Via XX Settembre, detail

 

We witnessed the urban decay that comes with lack of local funding. Historical treasures under graffiti. Crumbling buildings. And working girls hanging out on the street corners at 10 am on a Saturday morning. The tourist guide said this was not an area to be walking around late at night, so we didn’t. Much.

In the evening, after our traditional nap, we headed back in the direction of Boccadasse and away from the old town. We got about half way, when I decided I didn’t have the energy or the will. We stopped at a Brazilian place and were seated, but left after it was explained that this was a meat-based, all-you-can-eat type of place. All the little pizza joints were full on this Saturday night. We finally ended up in Le Perlage. It was a nice restaurant, but we were sat upstairs in a character-less room with the others that had no prenotazione.

 

The meal was very nice, but the gloss waned when I had to ask twice for the bill and waited 25 minutes for it. I don’t mind waiting for good food with a glass of wine in hand, but I HATE waiting to pay. I was motivated enough to go on Google Maps and say so. I love Google.

 

The only drawback of our bedroom was the lack of an en-suite bathroom. Ours was across the hallway, a step down and two steps up. Not a problem in the daylight, but when you have to make two trips in the middle of the night, a nuisance. It’s hell growing old. Gianni has two rooms to let, get the other one.
 

Edited 26 December, 2018 by freelunch

[freelunch]

Sunday 9 September, Genoa

 

Today, we headed for the recommended viewpoint in the hills above Genoa, a good walk and funicular ride. It was worth the trip and gave us a language lesson in using ticket machines. We took pictures, then walked back down the hill through the neighbourhoods, mainly taking notice of the Mediterranean vegetation. We found ourselves on the main tourist drag: Via Garibaldi. I asked a ticket salesman which palace he recommended if we could only visit one. Rosso, he said, so we did. Jo read later that Bianco had a better art collection. We rather rushed through the place, which was getting quite crowded by 11:30, then ambled through the old town to the harbour.

 

Porta Soprana is the best-known gate of the ancient walls of Genoa

Entry to funicular that takes you up to Belvedere Castelletto for the view

The view. San Lorenzo, top centre

A bedroom ceiling in the Palazzo Rosso

A Spanish tourist insisted on taking our picture, so here you go...

 

Largely through crowd-avoidance, we ended up on the terrace bar of the NH Collection Genova Marina hotel. It was really nice. We had the place to ourselves and a nice view of the harbour, though I would have preferred an Italian beer to a Heineken. Globecorp, indeed.

 

View from my first beer of the day

 

For lunch, we decided to walk the length of one of the piers devoted to restaurants on one side and luxury yachts of the seriously rich on the other. We found Rossopomodoro and had one of the best meals of the trip. We shared a starter (bruschetta and mozzarella salad) and main (linguini with a whole lobster). The mozzarella was wonderful and the lobster surprisingly cheap. It was all delicious and we feasted.

 

Rossopomodoro. The mozzarella was wonderful, as was everything else

Opposite Rossopomodoro

Opposite Rossopomodoro

I see from Google satellite view, this liner has six outdoor swimming pools 

 

We wandered back to the B&B via the old town. What I found fascinating was that in the midst of all this neglected urban decay were the most wonderful treasures, like this:

 

Seafront seafood shack and

 
Detail. It's a good thing I didn't see this before Rossopomodoro

 

And this:

 

The plaque that the gentleman is reading says the bas relief over this anonymous doorway is called The Adoration of the Magi by Giovanni Gagini around 1460. It was restored in 1991, but nothing could be done with the surrounding neighbourhood, apparently

Detail 

After our nap, we were a bit unmotivated, probably owing to our still distended tummies. Throwing caution to the wind, we wandered back into the old town to see what leapt out at us. Turned out to be a back alley cocktail bar. A couple of burly tattooed chaps were mixing cocktails and spinning disco. They also had Ardbeg at a very good price, and bar snacks, so…

 

After too long, I thought I’d better get some proper food in my belly. We walked into Piazza Ferrari to find everything closed except a late-night café. I thought I’d pointed at a slice of pizza only to find a great slab of tomato-covered foccacia on a too-small plate in front of me. It was truly awful. But the waitress was really nice. Everybody in Genoa was nice, even in the disco biker bar. So, I ate as much as I could stomach and paid at the till. “Io ho un appetito piccolo” I apologised.

 

We went home and packed.
 

Edited 24 November, 2018 by freelunch

[freelunch]

Monday 10 September

Genoa to Florence to Naples

 

A mini-miracle happened Monday morning: the car in front of mine went off to work and I moved my car to a safe position, if there is such a thing in Genoa. Gianni bade us farewell and gifted Joanna a baby alloa plant she’d been eyeballing. We were off in good time. 

 

We took our first toll booth ticket of the day and were off in the direction of Florence. I mention this because we managed to lose it somewhere beneath the dashboard fascia before we got to the next toll booth. Long story. I blocked up a lane as I got out to shout at the payment machine. It wouldn’t accept a credit card without a ticket first. A man came to help after some minutes. Amazingly, no one honked at me. Idiota! 

 

The man punched some keys and the payment machine spat out a 15” long toll receipt. The man raised the gate and motioned me on. I drove behind him as he walked to his office, but he motioned me on my way. IDIOTA! When I finally found time to look at the ticket, it gave instructions to pay on line. €56 full toll or €20 if I can produce the ticket. It is still lost behind the fascia. It’s worth €30 to me, but would probably cost more that that to have the dash dismantled. I can hear the paper ticket rustling against the little door every time it slides open.

 

Anyway, at lunchtime we found ourselves at the GPS location I had punched into Susan two months ago. It wasn’t where I expected to be, but it turned out to be the best meal of the trip: Il Chichibio, Impruneta, just south of Florence, and just off the autostrada. It was in the countryside and we were the only car in the parking lot at 12:30. But, they were open. A very nice man helped us with the menu. Guitar-spaghetti with clams, indeed. Would you like sliced truffles? But of course! Aubergine parmigiano? I stuck to mineral water, otherwise this was wonderful. Others started to arrive and by the time we were back on the road, they were pretty busy.

 

Il Chichibio, Impruneta (just south of Florence). We had the place to ourselves and the waiter was really happy to see us

 

Il Chichibio terrace, one of three

 

TGBITW enjoys her prosecco

 

I enjoyed my aubergine parmigiano

 

She enjoyed her baked potatos with asparagus, fried egg and shaved truffle

 

I enjoyed my guitar-spaghetti (I believe the pasta sheet is pressed through a set of wire strings that look like a guitar) with clams so much, I forgot to take a picture

 

This meter-long squash will be on the menu soon, I’m sure

 

Next stop Napoli. It seemed a tragedy to be bypassing such great places as Lucca, Florence, Orvieto and Rome, where we had a rest stop on the autostrada. We got to Napoli at rush hour. Or, maybe, every hour in Napoli is rush hour. It was like nothing I’d experienced before. Anarchy. The mayhem of Genoa was child’s play.

 

Again, Susan got me to our destination, quickly correcting me if I failed to guess which one of the spurs off the seven-headed Hydra was the fourth right, but never losing her temper. Scooters were coming at me from every direction. Pedestrians would step into the road without taking their eyes off their phones. 

 

I took a right earlier than I should have. Susan immediately tasked itself with getting me back on track. Up a narrow alley I crept, not for the first time wishing I was driving a Fiat 500. Surely this was a one-way road? No. I was clearly in the way, but I managed to get through unscathed to the main drag.

 

Looking left and turning right, I clipped the curb with my right front tyre, but managed to get safely to our hotel. The courtesy parking bay for the hotel was full of scooters, so I left Jo double-parked in the car to deal with, hmmm, what? I hadn’t seen a policeman.

 

I left Jo and the luggage in the hands of the porter and drove around the block to park in the hotel’s underground garage, which is why I chose the place - for the parking. Once it was established that I was a guest, the attendants took my key and sent me packing. I thought, this is a big car. Where the heck are they going to put it? I found Jo and we settled into our very nice, two large rooms. Then, up to the rooftop bar/restaurant/terrace because I was too exhausted (or was it fearful?) to venture into Napoli in the dark.

 

We sat in shirt sleeves with a nice view over the city, partial view of Vesuvius and had a very nice meal (grilled squids for me) a couple drinks and then, to bed.

Edited 24 November, 2018 by freelunch

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Tuesday 11 September, Napoli

 

Tuesday morning, we enjoyed a very nice hotel breakfast on the terrace under blue skies, already warming up. 

 

Breakfast on the roof of the Grand Hotel Oriente Napoli. Vesuvius rises up on the right

 

View to the northwest from the hotel terrace

 

I needed to get something from the car. We found it backed into a corner of the garage, windows open and key on the dash. I guess they knew what they were doing. Then, we grabbed our old Yamaha pannier liner, filled it with dirty clothes and wandered into the Spanish Quarter to find us a lavanderia. My phone got us to the destination and prepared me with the necessary Italian. I love Google. Later, the phone vibrated: it was Google asking me if I wanted to save my itinerary from yesterday and showing me a map of everyplace we’d visited. I hate Google.

 

Chiesa di San Ferdinando

 

Chiesa di San Ferdinando, ceiling detail

 

Now, we found ourselves in the Piazza del Plebiscito, a huge open space between a couple grand buildings, the sea within view. The sea was a bigger attraction. It was sweltering now at 10:30. 

 

Basilica Reale Pontificia San Francesco da Paola, Piazza del Plebiscito

 

Palazzo Reale di Napoli from the basilica, Piazza del Plebiscito

 

Basilica Reale. Detail

 

We watched mostly men sunbathing on the rocks and swimming in the harbour. A gentleman standing next to us confirmed Vesuvius was the peak on the right of the pair and pointed out Capri on the horizon. There was a street bar, but I needed a seat.

 

Sun bathing, Napoletano-style

 

Overlooking the Gulf of Naples

 

Across the way, I got my first beer of the day and Jo was getting a taste for limoncello. The snacks came free. I just discovered that if you take a photo with an Android phone and click on “info”, the metadata even includes a map of where you took the shot. I love Google.

 

Order a drink, you get lunch free

 

After our pit stop, we wandered up Via Toledo, one of the main drags. We didn’t get far before the promise of a Carravaggio dragged us into the Palazzo Zevallos Stigliano. Nice building, one Carravaggio hung high and lit so you couldn’t photograph it, but I found a self-portrait by Francesco Paolo Michetti that I quite liked. 

 

I love Italian salami. We had to stop in here

 

The Palazzo Zevallos Stigliano…

 

…contained this self-portrait by Francesco Paolo Michetti, about 1877

 

We carried on up Via Toledo to Piazza Dante and turned right into the ‘hood. A warren of book stalls, shops, bars, pizzerias… we were looking for the place Gianni told us about. “The best pizza in Napoli”, he promised.

 

Via S. Pietro a Maiella, street market

 

Via Port’Alba, street market

 

So, inside Gino e Toto Sorbillo, we were told to wait for a table. No! Outside! We realised there was a queue outside. All the pizza restaurants had queues outside. This is gonna be great, I thought. No! Biggest disappointment of the trip. We had the classic pizza Margherita - mozzarella, tomato, basil - the colours of the Italian flag and named in honor of the last Queen of Italy. I was underwhelmed. It looked the business, but, really, it’s just pizza and not the transcendant experience I was anticipating.

 

Gino & Toto Sorbillo’s Pizza Margherita

 

I soothed my disappointment with cannoli from a cafe further up the alley. I asked for one (to share, ‘cause they were huge) but two came - the difference between cannoli and cannolo. D’oh! Did I learn nothing from Duolingo? Anyway, it was delicious, and my blurred vision was only a minor inconvenience. By the time we got to the modern art museum, my vision was fine, but the museum was closed. Time for a nap, anyway.

 

On the way home, we stopped in the Duomo di Napoli:

 

Duomo di Napoli

 

Duomo di Napoli

 

Duomo di Napoli

 

Duomo di Napoli

 

Duomo di Napoli

 

And a little further along the road, this building was just around the corner from…

 

…this building

 

(nap)

 

We were too early for our reservation at Trattoria Nanni, so we strolled along a busy street of shops and settled into a bar terrace on the Via Toledo for a drink and people watching. As usual, a free meal was provided with the drinks. A second drink eliminated the need for a starter in Nanni. 

 

The price of a drink buys you a mini-meal

 

The trattoria staff were almost overwhelmingly friendly and after I exhausted my Italian, they were happy to help in English. A table of 20-something women sat behind me, celebrating a birthday. They were completely ignoring the violinist booked for entertainment, but he was quite good. He ended up standing our our end of their table, grateful for an appreciative audience.

 

I had melon for dessert. It was served on the rind, but carved out and sectioned. I was impressed that the kitchen knew exactly where to cut it to separate the sweet flesh from the rind, leaving a good 5mm behind. I did a taste test and they had it exactly right. It’s the little things…

 

Perfectly sliced melone

 

 

 

[freelunch]

Wednesday 12 September, Napoli

 

Today, we collected our laundry (handed over with a smile that said, “You really paid €20 for this lot?”) then dropped it off at the hotel on the way to Castello Sant’Elmo. From the roof of our hotel, the fort looked like a taxi ride away, but Google Maps said it was only a half hour walk, so off we trudged. Up and up and up. Every blind corner had us afraid to poke our heads around to see if the kamakazi scooteristi were strafing the apexes. Three abreast. Nuts.

 

On the walk up to Castello Sant’Elmo

 

Brits doing watercolours

 

We made it to the top 90 minutes later and found a hospitable cafe for the first beer of the day. It was a very pleasant morning, not yet fully warmed up. But, once we got inside the castle, things got uncomfortable. First, we got stuck halfway up in a crowded lift. The Italian woman at my elbow kept crossing herself and audibly praying to God to keep her safe, which set everyone else on edge. The lift continued on its way after an eternity of about 90 seconds, thank you, Jesus.

 

Looking southwest from Castello Sant’Elmo, Capri on the horizon

 

Looking over the ferry terminal to the southeast. Vesuvius is the peak on the right

 

The sun was beating on the bare white stones of the expansive fort courtyard. It was quite hot now. Oh, let’s see what’s down that tunnel! Ooh, it’s cool! We emerged to walk the ramparts and then discovered the contemporary art gallery. It was well worth the visit. Good stuff amongst the rubbish, more interesting than the Caravaggio from the previous day. And air conditioned.

 

Elio Washimps, Giro girotondo come è bello il mondo, 1985

 

Emilio Notte, I maggio, 1956

 

Vincenzo Gemito, Busto di fanciulla napoletana, 1922

 

Hungry now, we left the fort and walked into the first restaurant we saw, just opposite the castle exit. We sat and were promptly handed menus, but before the chap returned, I decided the view over Napoli did not warrant the prices in what was just a café. Down the hill we glided, reaching a well-reviewed restaurant in the 30 minutes that Google promised. 

 

Watching the tourist traffic

 

Trattoria Da Nennella was terrific. We were just in time for last orders. It was intoxicating mayhem, busy waiters bossing around too slow diners. A good mix of tourists and locals. Cheap, which explained the queues. I had linguini with pork sausage meat. It was delicious. A large tomato and mozzarella salad. Lovely. When we paid, they gave us a chit to spend at the coffee shack opposite the restaurant, everybody standing and looking pleased with themselves.

 

Now, we headed across town to visit the Museo Madre gallery that was closed yesterday. A long, hot walk, but it was nice and cool in the gallery. Warhol, Gilbert & George, Cindy Sherman, Richard Long and a Vesuvius t-shirt souvenir for Joanna in the gift shop. I was ready for our nap. It seemed forever to get back to the hotel. It was hot, man!

 

Looking out of a window in the Museo Madre gallery

 

TGBITW tries to decide if it’s art

 

Make your own art

 

We hadn’t spent much time down by the sea, so we headed to the harbour for dinner. I liked the sound of The Sea Front Di Martino Pasta Bar. We found it, made a booking, then set off for a walkabout. The five-star Hotel Romeo overlooking the harbour looked like a good place for a cocktail. Fancy lift, beautiful hostess, besuited waiter led us to a table with a view. We waited until my patience ran out. Our waiter was on the terrace outside where we were not allowed to sit, taking pictures of two young ladies. We left to everyone’s surprise, including Joanna’s.

 

The harbourside, or port,  was not very salubrious. Heading back in the direction of our restaurant, we found a street bar that quickly got me the beer I badly needed, but I tried not to eat too much of the free snacks. I failed. Still, I was looking forward to our sea front pasta bar.

 

This turned out to be one of the trip’s highlights. The restaurant was over the Di Martino pasta shop, local pasta from Gragnano wheat. Up the stairs over the shop were chefs working behind a bar. About six people were sat there, but we sat at a table in the window overlooking the Fontana del Nettuno. Everything from the cutlery to the breadsticks was fancy, and the food was fabulous. I left half of my tagliatelli with a ragú of wild boar and caramelized onions. I couldn’t touch the compimentary dessert plate. We made our apologies and waddled downstairs, Jo intent on buying all their pasta. The shop was closed. “But we’re standing in it,” cried Joanna. Chiuso.

 

Everything was fancy from the bread sticks to the bread holders

 

Say 'Mac & Cheeeeese'

 

Fancy Ragú

 

Figs, hazelnuts and loads of sugar on a frilly sheet pasta. Delicious and vision-blurring

 

We waddled home and packed for tomorrow.

Edited 26 December, 2018 by freelunch

[freelunch]

Thursday 13 September 

Napoli to Siracusa

 

After a final rooftop breakfast, I settled up our whopper of a hotel bill (we did enjoy our stay) and dug the car out of the garage. I had to wait while someone drove in the out ramp. The mayhem starts instantly. 

 

I was stressing over whether I had allowed enough time to catch our ferry to Messina. We had two three hour legs to do to get to the Villa San Giovanni crossing to Messina. Joanna learned how to work the infotainment system and we stopped halfway at the Tarisa autostrada services. Quite the production, these Italian road restaurants. As usual, you pay first and present the receipt to the counter staff. Tricky when you don’t really know what you’re asking for, but we managed. Some diners were getting two and three course meals – we stuck to panini and water. The bigger places were like going into an IKEA. Traffic patterns and wardens, if you got it wrong.

 

Tarisa services. We saw quite a few of these places on this trip. They’re a giant step up from a Road Chef

 

We were almost two hours early for our ferry. Well, better early than late. Now, I worried if they’d make us wait for our reserved departure, but they put us on the next ferry, which was already loading. Have I said this Škoda is a big car? We had to take a narrow ramp to the upper deck of the ferry. I kept as close as I dared to the right side and still managed to whack the left wing mirror on the way up the ramp. ****! Jo just pushed it out and we carried on. It was a beautiful day and the crossing gave you just enough time to get on the top deck for a look around.

 

Goodbye Villa San Giovanni. The Big Red Bus has just received its second battle scar. I haven’t yet discovered the first

 

 

Crossing to Sicily

 

Hello Messina

 

Messina traffic was child’s play compared to Napoli and we were soon zooming past Mt. Etna, which was somewhere in the clouds. We arrived in Siracusa early, which turned out to be a problem. I parked in the public lot near the B&B, then we walked our luggage to the address I’d StreetView’ed in Google weeks in advance. We couldn’t see Dimora di Artemides anywhere. Someone came out the entrance and I slipped in. I walked up each floor looking for an indication of our B&B. Nothing.

 

I fished out the Booking.com paperwork and phoned the contact number. I got a recording in Italian and another phone number. I had to call twice more to verify the number. Called the number. Nothing. Emailed Booking.com and sat and waited. Jo wanted to know what was going on and I wished I could tell her. What I knew was: I had already paid for the room for three nights. They took the money from my credit card five days before we arrived, so finding another room was out of the question.

 

After an hour, Fabrizio contacted me via WhatsApp, which I didn’t even know I had. He was at work and would be with us shortly. I figured I had enough time for a beer, so we sat on a terrace around the corner. I opened my beer, my phone rang. Fabrizio was at the apartment building. So after a total of two hours, we were in our room. Fabrizio upgraded us to a two-room apartment with a kitchen to make up for the check-in confusion. It turned out to be a very nice room in an apartment building with severe sewage problems. The room was fine, but entering and leaving the building was an exercise in “how long can you hold your breath?”

 

We quick unloaded and headed straight into the tourist centre of Ortygia to make up for lost time. We sat in a busy area for a drink, then looked for a less busy area for a meal. We found La Cantinaccia. We got friendly with our waiter, who turned out to be a Hopi native American on his mother’s side. We had pasta - what else? Two items were a bit special: a cheese with black peppercorns in it and a liquour which he called canolino. He said it’s make by the brothers who are sat behind you, and pointed them out. It was wonderful. Sweet, but not cloying, and the aftertaste seemed to start in your mouth and flow down to your neck and shoulders. He made a gesture with his hands starting in front of his face, moving down his chest, then parting slowly like wings. The gesture perfectly defined the taste. I had a second glass, then spent the rest of the trip trying for find the stuff again. And failing. I may have got the name wrong.

 

We got a good nights sleep, windows closed and air conditioning on.

 

[freelunch]

Friday 14 September, Siracusa

 

Our free breakfast turned out to be vouchers to be spent in a pastisserie around the corner. The low sun was beating straight into the floor-to-ceiling plate glass windows and it was like an oven in there. So, not a great start to the day.

 

Then, straight across the bridge into Ortygia’s street market. What a place! The first thing we noticed was the amazing smells coming from the spice stalls. And the colours. Pastel candied fruit. All kinds of nuts. Then the fruit and veg, things I’d never seen. Then the fish stalls, beautiful fresh squids, octopus, stripey fish…

 

Ortygia Harbour

 

 

Ortygia Harbour

 

Street market stall

 

Spices and nuts. We still had some of these pistachios when we returned home two weeks later

 

I ate a lot of octopus and squid on this trip

 

Fanfole? I can’t find a translation 

 

We found a cheese and sausage deli and I bought salami and olives at the counter and ordered drinks at a table and we sat and people watched from the edge of the market. A very good start to the day. 

 

TGBITW enjoys her Grillo, more salami for me. This was a really nice market

 

The rest of the day was criss-crossing the island and visiting Greek ruins, Roman ruins, churches, the cathedral, the fort. 

 

Not much left of the Apollonion

 

 

Apollonion

 

This was on one side of the entry to the Chiesa San Paolo…

 

…and this on the other. What’s the moral? Don’t let your kids grow up to be martyrs?

 

Inside the 7th century Duomo di Siracusa

 

Very simple

 

Outside was very busy on this Friday afternoon

 

Ortygia is an ancient town…

 

…totally devoted to tourism

 

Hungry again, we ignored the busy restaurants on the water’s edge and found a likely place in the town. Spaghetti con vongole and vino. The Sicilian whites are cheap and very nice. Ours was from the slopes of Mt. Etna. I took a surreptitious photograph of a mob underboss tucking into his pasta, I mean it had to be. Then we took the long way back to the apartment for naptime.

 

C’mon! He must be connected

 

Your correspondent forces a smile for the camera

 

A small tropical garden in the middle of Ortygia

 

Is that a 200mm telephoto you’re pointing at me?

 

In the evening, we returned to the Ortygia market, which had transformed from market stalls to restaurant terraces. We chose a bustling fish place. I had pulpo grillato and a salad. 

 

Fish restaurant, Ortygia

 

The island was pretty low key at night, so we wandered back to our apartment and came upon a street party a couple blocks from our place. A jazz band was playing and they were good enough I figured I might have to fight through the crowd and tackle the bar. Pay at the register, hand the receipt to the barman. I was feeling like a local. 

 

Street party jazz band, Siracusa

 

We stood and watched a scene from the Sopranos being played out between us and the band. The “capo” was pretty drunk and coping feels off the eight young, attractive (in a hard as nails kind of way) girls that were drinking his bottles of prosecco. His minions were trying to keep out of his way, until he showed unwanted attention to a girl that must have belonged to a lieutenant. A couple girls ran interference to distract the boss and calm prevailed. We were enjoying the action! We stayed too long.

 

Our bed was quite comfortable, the room was quiet and I was sleeping quite well in Siracusa.

Edited 24 November, 2018 by freelunch

[freelunch]

Saturday 15 September, Siracusa

 

Today, we headed north into Siracusa new town to visit the Greek ampitheatre in the Parco Archeologico Neapolis. It was a pretty good hike. We stopped on the way for a decent cup of coffee. The cafe had a couple of blokes running it and one was putting on a show for us. So, we ended up with the full continental, fresh squeezed orange juice and nice croissants in a sweet Sicilian style. When I paid, I decided that tomorrow we would return to the free place.

 

We waited for a student protest march to pass by

 

Spotted this critter in a small park

 

The Greek ampitheatre was a bit of a disappointment. The ticket office was strategically located at the very end of the fifty tourist tat stalls, then we had to walk back, but not before Jo had to pay for a toilet. The ruin was unloved and poorly signposted. We were about to leave. 

 

The unloved Roman ampitheatre

 

Let’s just to take a picture over there, I said. Turns out, we were in completely the wrong place: the Roman ampitheatre. I guess Sicilians don’t care for Romans. The Greek ruin was pretty impressive. And, there was a huge natural cave called the Ear of Dionysius that proved to be a dramatic echo chamber. Having just done a satellite view of the park, I see we still missed half of it, but we were hot, man! We bailed and headed toward the Santuario della Madonna delle Lacrime, a modern church with an impressive spire.

 

We almost missed the proper entrance

 

We had not seen this plant before

 

The hillside was full of caves and carved out niches

 

The proper Greek theatre, 5th century BC

 

TGBITW

 

The Ear of Dionysius. Very high, curling in like a nautilus shell

 

Everyone maintained silence while a park guide sang a wailing chant. Excellent

 

This tree…

 

…had the most wonderful bark

 

Santuario della Madonna delle Lacrime…

 

…and its amazing spire

 

Santuario della Madonna delle Lacrime spire, Siracusa

 

Back at the B&B now, we had a quick shower, dressed up a bit, then hot-footed it to Ristorante Don Camillo for a fancy late lunch. I’d made a reservation the day before in what was supposed to be one of the best restaurants in Ortygia. We weren’t disappointed. Everything was fancy, probably to justify the prices, rather than good ingredients simply done, like most Italian restaurants. For instance, the grilled prawns were coated in some sort of unusual spice that got on your fingers as you peeled the critter. Then another dish: I’m looking at the picture I took of it and still don’t know what it is. Nice, though. The point is, I would have been just as happy with a plate of pasta in a sidewalk café. Still, Don Camillo was very nice. And, compared to London prices, still quite reasonably priced.

 

Outdoor dining in Ortygia

 

Ristorante Don Camillo

 

Prawns with a spicy coating

 

I have no idea what this was. It was good, though

 

Lunch was so late, we weren’t hungry for dinner, so we just mooched around the old town looking for action, but found none on this Saturday night. No street parties, either. We returned to our room early and packed for departure tomorrow, snacking on cheese and fruit we still had from Napoli.

[freelunch]

Sunday 16 September 

Siracusa to Palermo

 

While Jo was getting ready, I went to the car to make sure it was still there and had all the windows were intact. And to check the tyre pressures, which I hadn’t done since leaving London. They had all gained 3 psi with the rise in temperature. As I was letting air out of each tyre, I finally noticed the right front which had clipped a curb in Napoli. There was a scrape on the alloy and a two inch gash in the sidewall of the tyre. 

 

Can I get to Palermo on this tyre?

 

Ouch! The tyre was holding the same pressure as all the others and the gash looked superficial. No cords visible and, more importantly, no place to get it replaced on a Sunday. I figured as we’d already put 400 miles on it since the injury, it would do another few hundred. I’d get it sorted in Palermo. Back in the hotel, I checked the internet for a Pirelli tyre dealer and there was one near our B&B. Okay. On the road.

 

We are fans of the Montalbano television series, and we were in Montalbano country. I made a map of all the filming locations. The port where his apartment is, was too far off our route, but locations in Scicli and Ragusa were not. First, we stopped in Noto, which was supposed to be one of the most beautiful of the towns in the area. At 11:00 am on this beautiful Sunday, Noto was packed with tourists. We poked our noses into the church, but a service was in progress. We thought about ascending the belltower of another church for the (reportedly) wonderful view, but I was put off by the admission charge, not to mention the 311 step staircase.

 

Basilica Minore di San Nicolò, Noto

 

Chiesa di San Francesco d’Assisi all’Immacolata, Noto

 

We found a café with a view instead and sat for our second breakfast of the day. We took the long way back to the car. I realised my Montalbano itinerary was a bit ambitious, so we bypassed Scicli (say shee-clee) and headed to Ragusa for lunch. The car park was at one end of the old town (Ragusa Ibla) and our intended restaurant was at the other end. It was a good hike, up the winding roads to the Duomo San Giorgio (chiuso) to the Giardino Ibleo. Near the garden and down an alley was the restaurant A’Rusticana, which features as a lunchtime place for Inspector Montalbano. Sure enough, there was a wall devoted to cast and crew photos in what was a pretty nice place. Very friendly, not pricey, and busy. Fortunately, we arrived in time for last orders and the crowd was thinning.

 

Ragusa Ibla

 

Duomo di San Giorgio, Ragusa Ibla

 

Ristorante A’Rusticana, Ragusa

 

Inside A’Rusticana

 

After a very nice meal (a local arancini speciality and pasta ragú), we walked around the Giardino Ibleo with long views of the surrounding countryside, very different from Siracusa. Loads of palm trees and prickly pear cacti. It was an interesting town and we took longer than we should have to get back on the road. 

 

Giardino Ibleo, Ragusa

 

Ever seen a cross-section of a palm tree?

 

Some old geezer

 

The roads were not cooperating, either, being pretty rough and narrow for the most part. In fact, we wondered aloud if Susan was losing her mind. I stopped a couple of times and ran the map in and out to make sure we were actually on the correct route. Well, right direction, but different than Google maps suggested. I perservered.

 

Once I saw what Susan’s plan was, I relaxed and concentrated on making time on the twisting roads. I spotted an Audi coming up fast behind, pulled the automatic gearbox back into Sport, did the same with the suspension and put my foot down. This Škoda has good power for a heavy car. Several switchbacks later, I suspect the person in the Audi’s passenger seat told the driver to back off and I didn’t see him again until Agrigento. I suddenly thought about my front right and backed off myself.

 

30 miles out of Palermo, we finally stopped for a rest. We stood in tee’s and shorts as the sun went down. Now things got serious. I’d driven in Genoa and Napoli, but only in the daylight. We entered Palermo under street lights. One large set of traffic circles had me doing loops until I finally managed to get the right combination of turns, Susan never losing patience, but taking a bit long to catch up with me. We finally ended up at the car park logged into Susan’s memory.

 

The B&B was a self-serve place, with a little safe on the main door with our keys in it – all pretty straight forward as 1984 was pretty easy to remember. I wanted to go out an see how long it took to walk to the Teatro Massimo, because we had a Streaty Food Tour scheduled for 10 am in the morning. An easy 15 minutes, it turned out. We saw a busy street and looked for a place to eat, ended up in a student bar serving “small plates” I believe is the term now. It was quite a feast, actually, and better than I expected. Happy now, we wandered a bit and found another bar terrace to have a final glass of Nero d’Avola. I was surprised how busy and boisterous this neighbourhood was on a Sunday night. Well, maybe just one more glass…

 

A word about our Palermo B&B. This is the first and only place I’ve ever been where they had a complimentary pack of EARPLUGS!!! on our pillows. As in Siracusa, they already had our money for three nights. Hmmm…

[freelunch]

Monday 17 September, Palermo

 

I didn’t get much sleep, even though from 02:30 to 05:30 it was pretty quiet. Using earplugs just emphasises my tinnitus, and listening to two-strokes distracts from it. We got out of bed to enjoy the best part of the Stupor Mundi B&B: Chiara. She was the 20-year-old student that managed the property and served us breakfast. Charming girl. The breakfast was fine, if you like watermelon. I do…

 

We had an hour to kill before our street food tour, so we walked to the docks…

 

…and around town. Palermo is not pretty, like Ortygia

 

The Streaty Food Tour was something I first saw on Rick Stein’s TV show. He took the tour and raved about it. Good enough for me! £35/person to walk around the two main old town street markets and sample typical and traditional Palermo street food. I can’t remember them all, but we started with arancini. I got one with ham and onions, Jo’s was filled with cheese. Delicious. And beer. The ten of us on the tour (nine Americans and TGBITW) shared a couple bottles of beer with our food, then moved on to the next place. We had a type of focaccia, a chick pea flower bread, a pizza-like thingie and stopped in a bar for some Marsala vino. Other options were available, but some missed the point. One woman complained that she never drank wine out of a plastic cup and was disappointed when she wasn’t offered glass.

 

Teatro Massimo, our rendevous point

 

Naida, our Streaty food tour rep (in stripes)

 

Street market, Palermo

 

Deep-fried chick pea bread-type thingie

 

Street market, Palermo

 

Ever tried fresh-squeezed pomegranate juice? Me neither…

 

A nice (plastic) glass of local Marsala

 

Penultimate stop was a place where we were to try a sliced and grilled spleen sandwich. I think I was the only one. It was fine, just tasting like any other offal, really. No big deal. Wouldn’t have another. Last stop was a gelateria. Now, we’re talking! Trouble is, the tradition was to have the ice cream served in a brioche. Most opted for cones, but I stuck with tradition. No wonder cones are preferred – what a mess! My fingers were sticky for far too long and I could only imagine what my face looked like. Jo was smiling at me…

 

We were at the spleen sandwich joint for 20 minutes. The dog never got off the scooter

 

We parted company with the group at the church of St Dominic. Now, I had to take care of business!

 

Piazza St Dominic. Goodbye to Naida

 

We walked to the Palermo Pirelli dealer by way of the Cattedrale di Palermo. Google was taking us through some decidely dodgy areas and some seriously poor areas, finally opening up to a grand building of marble and gold. God save us. 

 

Cattedrale di Palermo. This is one big building. Couldn’t stand far enough away to get it all in the shot

 

Cattedrale di Palermo

 

Quite a spectacular dome on this otherwise unloved church

 

I took the requisite photos and we completed our trek to the garage about 14:00. I thought I was coping pretty well with the owner, until he guided me to his daughter, who spoke pretty good English. Things took an up turn.

 

They could not get a replacement for the tyre by the time I had to leave Palermo. They offered me a new tyre of a different model and I baulked. Finally, they offered a part worn tyre for €50 and I agreed. We hurried back to the car park and returned by 16:00. Angelo, the mechanic, came to have a look at my gashed tyre. There was some discussion, I heard the word “vulcanato” then Francesca told me Angelo says he can fix the tyre. Great!

 

I watched him cut a triangular-shaped sliver of hard glue and insert it into the wound, then he disappeared into the garage to (I’m guessing) put the tyre under heat and pressure. While waiting for it to “cure” he moved the rear tyre to the front of the car, waiting to place the repaired tyre on the rear. I thought this guy knows what he’s doing. Jo and I went for a coffee and I watched to see Angelo finally carry the repaired tyre to mount it on the rim. The whole operation took two hours, mostly waiting for the repair to cure.

 

40 years of motorcycle touring gave me plenty of experience in dealing with mechanical problems on the road

 

I went to see the boss. He charged me €20. Wow! The bargain of the century. I slipped Angelo a fiver and thanked everyone involved. I extended my hand to the boss, but he refused to shake it. I wondered why. Maybe because of the language difficulty, he was left out of the loop? Maybe because Angelo had cost him €30 by fixing the tyre? I shrugged it off as a Sicilian thing and we drove back to the car park and home for a nap.

 

In the evening, we went back to the area of the Streaty tour and tried to find a restaurant on my list. But first, a cocktail. Naida, the Streaty guide, recommended a rooftop bar and that’s where we were now, on the terrace overlooking Piazza St. Dominic. 

 

Rooftop cocktails overlooking Piazza St Dominic

 

I fought the temptation to stay for a meal and we continued our quest. A chap near our destination was trying to convince passers by to try his restaurant. I took his card and said we would, if we couldn’t find the place on my list. Ten minutes later, we were seated in his restaurant. 

 

He and his wife ran the place, his young daughter alternatively crying to go outside and playing in the street. They were shouting at her and smiling at us. I can’t remember what we ate, but it was traditional and delicious, as was the white wine. The local wines were mostly €14-18 in restaurants, rarely exceeding €25. Here we had a bottle of Grillo, recommended by our host. Nice. Reds were usually Primitivo or Nero d’Avola and lots from the slopes of Mt Etna.

 

[freelunch]

Tuesday 18 September, Palermo

 

I didn’t get much sleep, even though from 02:30 to 05:30 it was pretty quiet. Have I said that before? Chiara served us watermelon and we were off to see the Castello della Zisa, restored remains of a 12th century Moorish palace, World Heritage listed.

 

I was struck again by the level of the urban decay. Stepping over bags of rubbish, aggressive beggars, Africans speaking English to plead for money, telling us how badly treated they were in Italy. Even the large garden in front the the Zisa palace was abandoned, the water feature a trickle, graffiti everywhere. Sad, really. The museum in the palace was worth a look and it was a bit cooler in there. Did I say it was hot? We didn’t sweat, any moisture just evaporated in the heat. Wow. In the shade, you could just catch a breeze, so we tried to hug the shady side as we headed to the botanical garden.

 

Palazzo della Zisa, Palermo

 

Detail

 

Interior detail. If you want to see Moorish architecture, go visit The Alhambra

 

Wonder if Ridley Scott visited this place?

 

They saved the best for last…

 

Knickers

 

Auto repair

 

Auto in need of repair

 

Time to move on…

 

Past the Palazzo Reale and University we went. A pointless diversion to look inside the Palermo Centrale rail station and finally the Orto Botanico. But first, it was lunchtime. A quick look at my phone suggested the best bet might be the Ciccio in Pentola around in the neighbourhood. What a find! It didn’t look like much from the outside, but it was very nice once you were through the door, which is pretty much par for the course in the south of Italy.

 

We had a most wonderful three-course meal: frittura di pesce, Sicilian pasta with sardines, pine nuts and raisins; taghliatelli with cooked and raw prawns, melone and cassata gelato. Lovely and not a word of English spoken. Now, I really needed a walk through the botanical garden. Instead, we got side tracked by an art gallery.

 

The white today was Grillo

 

Friturra di pesce to share

 

Traditional Sicilian pasta with sardines, pine nuts and raisins

 

Tagliatelli with cooked and raw shrimps, oil, garlic and pepperoncino

 

Cassata

 

Jo spoke with the young lady looking after this collective. Please tell your friends, she said. Jo bought something in the spirit of patronage, and because she can now that we tour in a car. Finally, we made it to the garden.

 

Neighbourhood art studio

 

 

 

The garden was lush and green, but that didn’t help with the heat. One of the features was a very large cactus nursery. A huge variety of cacti and all looking very healthy. Different varieties of palm trees and prickly pears. It was quite big garden and a long walk home. I was quite knackered by naptime.

 

Cacti, Orto Botanico, Palermo

 

More cacti

 

Cactus

 

For our last night in Palermo, we thought we’d walk off in a different direction for a change. We found a large pedestrian precinct bordered by bars and restaurants. I chose a place featuring cured meats and sausages. A deli board and a couple glasses of Nero d’Avola were a nice send off. We did a walkabout to see the opera house, statues, fountains and groups of kids jacking up. I chose not to call Jo’s attention to it. We went home and packed for tomorrow.

 

St Domenico chapel, Palermo 

 

Teatro Politeama, the Palermo opera house

Edited 24 November, 2018 by freelunch

[freelunch]

Wednesday 19 September 

Palermo to Matera

 

I didn’t get much sleep, even though from 02:30 to 05:30 it was pretty quiet. Have I said that before? Chiara served us watermelon, then I went to check my tyre pressures. The repaired tyre was 1 psi lower than the other three, so I topped it up with the foot pump I carry in the boot and moved someone’s bed away from the front tyre. There was a bit of drama on the way out of the hotel building when the tiny lift that Jo was sharing with an American gentleman got stuck on the way down. I was still lugging my suitcase down four flights, by which time things sorted themselves out, but the Yank’s wife was in a state.

 

We had ferry to catch by noon, but had autostrada all the way to Messina. Unlike the previous crossing, this crossing was quite full. I managed to get up the ramp without inflicting further damage on my car. Left Villa San Giovanni and were soon speeding past abandoned buildings until we stopped for lunch in the roadside services. I’d warned the hotel in Matera that we might be arriving late, but this place was a proper hotel, 24-hour reception and - wait for it - a swimming pool! Two weeks in Italy, only steps from the Mediterranean and we hadn’t been in the water yet.

 

Goodbye, Sicily

 

Hello, Basilicata and Calabria

 

Matera is a unique town. It used to be dirt poor. Families living in hand-carved cave dwellings and sharing them with their animals. Mother Teresa raised the world’s consciousness and shamed the government into doing something. They built new housing for the population and forcibly move them into it. The last cave dwelling is now open as a museum. It was lived in until 1958. Other caves have been turned into bijou B&Bs. Matera is now a thriving tourist destination.

 

However, I only elected to stay in Matera for two nights. Google StreetView™ showed absolute hordes of tourists blocking the narrow passageways that riddled the hillside village. Matera was just a curiosity between Sicily and Bologna as far as I was concerned. Turned out to be an unfair assessment. It was a nice town. We unpacked in our very nice hotel room and walked into the centre in the twilight. We found a likely bar terrace opposite ancient buildings and excavations, but quickly moved under shelter when we had the first rain since our first night in France. The place was so pleasant, we stayed on for a light meal of junk food.

 

Matera old town centre

 

When the rain slacked off, we walked back to the hotel through the pedestrian section, stopping in a nice deli where we bought a wild boar sausage, cheeses, wine, nuts, roasted beans and fruit. My planned dinner restaurant near the hotel didn’t pan out, so we ended up eating the deli stuff in our room, which had a couple chairs outside the door and a bit of grass. I was sorry we weren’t staying longer, but every hotel on this trip had been pre-booked.

 

We hit the sack early.

[freelunch]

Thursday 20 September, Matera

 

I finally got some sleep. The hotel was in the middle of a residential neighbourhood and dead quiet at night. We enjoyed a decent breakfast in the hotel lobby, then packed for a long day in the Sassi. To say Matera is photogenic is an understatement. I was glad for digital cameras, as everything required a picture taken of it. The town in one direction, the gorge and countryside in the other.

 

Hotel Casino Ridola, Matera

 

Matera Sassi

 

We stopped in a museum created from a cave dwelling in 1958 when the tenants moved out and into their new council-supplied home. It looked quite nice to my eye, but living in damp winter conditions with animals proved problematic, apparently. Heating, ventilation and lack of plumbing and electric was less than ideal. The dwellings have mostly been converted to luxury tourist accommodations now, with the requisite cafés, bars and restaurants.

 

The Troggs’ dwelling

 

Kitchen

 

Bedroom

 

The lower level was for the livestock

 

I guess a camper van is out of the question

 

After three hours of walking and visiting 12th century churches and the cathedral, we found one of the restaurants - a nice one - Ristorante da Nico. We were served on the terrace, but newcomers were sat inside as it looked like rain was on its way. We finished eating just as it arrived. It was a wet slog back to our hotel, but by the time we got there, the sun was out and hot. I thought it would be a crime not to use the pool, so we did. Then naptime.

 

A pit stop in the Sassi

 

Santa Maria de Idris and San Giovanni in Monterrone. No photos inside, please

 

St Peters and Santa Maria

 

Chiesa di San Pietro Caveoso

 

San Pietro ceiling detail

 

Cattedrale di Maria Santissima della Bruna

 

Maria Santissima ceiling

 

The long walk and large lunch had us wary of another long trudge into town, so we dined in our room again. The sausage I bought was excellent, almost like a jerky - you had to cut really thin slices - and it had been packed in natural intestines, so you could eat everything. We sat outside in our chairs, drank wine and listened to the town fireworks. Loud, man! But, too far away to see anything.

[freelunch]

Friday 21 September 

Matera to Bologna

 

It seemed like we’d only just arrived in Matera when we were already leaving it. Bologna beckoned. We spent a long weekend there in a time long forgotten. It was certainly before my first digital camera, so it must have been late 90’s. We’ve been wanting to return ever since.

 

A lunchtime autostrada stop in the largest restaurant of its kind that I’ve ever seen was the only point of interest on the whole drive up. We only got shouted at twice for walking in the wrong aisle or trying to get out the wrong door. I wanted a nice looking sausage, but didn’t want to wait 20 minutes for it to grill, so ended up with a very large fruit salad.

 

We got to Bologna in good time. Our hotel was not too far outside the city walls to the southeast, about a 30-minute walk into the Piazza Maggiore. We got there about 6:30 on this Friday evening and the place was buzzing. We wandered into the market area to the east and tried to find a place to sit and have a drink. Good luck with that! My camera tells me I had my first beer at 7pm. Ahhh, that’s better! And another, then we were ready to find a place to eat. Good luck with that!

 

We passed the Chiesa della SS. Trinità on the walk into the centre

 

 

A typical, if less salubrious, arcaded walkway with traditional window shades

 

Our first look at the Basilica di San Petronio, Piazza Maggiore, Bologna

 

We had to step off the beaten track to find a place to sit for a drink

 

I didn’t really fancy street food, so we checked every place we passed in the direction of our hotel and found Tratorria Gianni. My fervent imagination says that we got a table in this place because I asked for one in Italian. The place was packed and tourists coming in after us were shown the door. Service was brusque and swift, but polite and the pasta was excellent. 

 

I could see the woman running the place was having trouble with a group of men who wanted to sit in a private room. She finally gave in. As she turned, she noticed I was watching and gave me the classic Italian shrug “what can you do?”

 

I also had to take a photo of a woman who had her dog in a handbag slung over the back of her chair. Next to her was a table with eight Germans ordering in English. No Schitzel? Mein Gott! It was fun, but we were tired and on the walk back to our hotel I thought maybe we should have got a place closer to the centre. But, again, the hook had been free off-street parking.

 

I’ve seen lap dogs before, but not handbag dogs

[freelunch]

Saturday 22 September, Bologna

 

Our room in the Locanda Fourghetti was very nice. Very quiet, except during dining hours as the windows looked out over the Michelin-starred restaurant terrace below. But, it was room only, so in the morning we headed to the nearby Giardini Margherita, which had a cafeteria on the edge of a small lake. Very nice for breakfast on Saturday and Sunday once you got the hang of the ordering. Then, people watching. Families, workers, dog walkers, ladies who breakfast…

 

Café in the Giardini Margherita, Bologna

 

Today, we were walking to the opposite side of town to visit the Museo Morandi contained within the Modern Art Museum. It was a slow walk of window shopping, sightseeing and a visit to the Basilica di San Petronio in the Piazza Maggiore.

 

Bologna

 

Chiesa di Santa Lucia, detail

 

Bologna

 

Incidental street art

 

Bologna

 

Basilica di San Domenico, altar detail

 

The first thing I noticed upon entering the basilica was a sign that said, “No selfie sticks.” The second sign said you could buy a photo license for €2. Fair enough, I thought. All museums and churches should do this. People are going to take photos with their phones now, you can’t stop it, so you might as well rake in some money. I dutifully bought my license and walked to the next chapel and saw the sign which said “No Photos”. WTF? (See photo)

 

Guards were chasing tourists shouting in English, “No photos” in a losing cause. It’s a big church, there was loads to shoot. Some black and yellow duotone paintings that reminded me of the stained glass in Beaune. And a museum full of treasures, models, illuminated books and small objets d’arte. We passed on the rickety-looking lift up the scaffolding to the bell tower view.

 

The Basilica di San Petronio is the 10th largest cathedral in the world, and the largest built of bricks. It’s tall. Even the side chapels are three stories, so it’s hard to photograph, especially when all you’re showing are 800 x 500 pixel images. So, you get detail shots:

 

Chapel

 

Chapel detail

 

Closer chapel detail

 

In 2002 and 2006, Italian police stopped terrorist attacks, which were motivated by Giovanni da Modena’s mural of Mohammed being devoured by demons. This is the photo you’re not allowed to take

 

Statler and Waldorf

 

My birth sign on the floor of the basilica. Pagan? The basilica was not built by the bishops, but by the town of Bologna

 

Chapel

 

A model of how the basilica might have looked had it been completed. It has been unfinished for 600 years, because no one could agree on a treatment for the facade. Now, it’s a feature…

 

Museo di San Petronio

 

We continued our walk to the art museum. It was hot, man! Google Maps was my friend negotiating the labyrinth of streets. I love Google. Each corner had some ancient, abandoned religious fresco up in the arches. I appreciated the collonaded walkways and the shade they afforded. We finally got near the museum, but I needed a beer. We stopped in a little neighbourhood bar/gelateria, mostly catering to Chinese kids. 

 

Incidental street art

 

Casa del Mutilato

 

Chiesa di San Colombano e Santa Maria dell’Orazione, I think…

 

Bologna

 

Bologna

 

Bologna

 

A mistake about the entrance to the Morandi gallery afforded us a good counter-clockwise walk about the block, which took us through a LGBT festival site. We enjoyed watching a huge bull mastif playing in the wading pool, saw some outdoor sculpture and finally found our entrance - six feet to the left of where we started our walk.

 

Beating the heat

 

We spent an hour taking in the art, then it was lunchtime. 

 

Modern art museum. Why did I take a picture of this? Because it is the first and only time I’ve ever seen Hitler and Woodstock in the same image. Dunno who did it.

 

Backtracking our way to the centre, we found Ristorante Pizzeria Nino. Google says, “You visited 1 month ago.” I hate Google. And, I didn’t think much of my spaghetti ala vongole veraci. I’d set my standards pretty high for Bologna, and this didn’t quite cut the mozzarella. Or, maybe it was the guy sitting next to us that put me off my meal.

 

We were deliberating about dessert when the American and his wife/mistress finally left. Jo waited until they were out of earshot, then said, “WHAT WAS THE PROBLEM WITH THAT MAN!!!???” (Only, she didn’t say ‘man’.) He did not stop talking, yet finished his meal the same time as his partner. Everything out of his mouth was a lecture/rant/diatribe/instruction. The woman didn’t have much to say, maybe she was elsewhere.

 

Dessert was the best part of my meal, a delicious pannacotta. Photos duly taken, we headed east for a walkabout. 

 

Pannacotta

 

Pineapple

 

We discovered the central square of an old church that had been taken over by a craft fair and chess matches. Bologna is a really nice town to walk around. Nice people, pedestrianised areas and traffic that is not too scary. It was naptime.

 

Craft fair

 

Craft fair

 

Chiesa di San Giacomo Maggiore, chapel detail

 

After the long walk home, we were so knackered we decided not to go out in the evening – ate our Matera purchases out of the fridge and listened to the diners having fun on the terrace below. My laptop kept me amused when I tired of the rubbish on Italian television. We went to bed early.

Edited 25 November, 2018 by freelunch

[freelunch]

Sunday 23 September, Bologna

 

We began our Sunday the same as Saturday, in the park café, old hands with the routine now. Today, we would visit the botanical garden on the northeast side of town, near the university. 

 

Giardini Margherita café

 

It was nice to walk through the park to get to town

 

The walk took us via the twin towers, which we were expecting. 

 

Bologna’s twin towers. Google for the tops

 

But, we were nicely surprised by the Basilica di Santo Stefano, which is really four churches built side-by-side and on top of one another over about four centuries. Easy to walk by, but not to be missed! Amazing architecture, brick work, stone work, art work. And very popular - you have to be patient to get a shot without someone in it. Looking back, I managed pretty well.

 

Basilica di Santo Stefano

 

The Holy Sepulcher, reproduction

 

Interior courtyard

 

Courtyard wall detail

 

Tour group at the altar

 

Jesus, crucified

 

 

Courtyard cat

 

Further up the road, there was an upscale street market. Joanna bought a silver flaming heart pendant, which I thought was quite frugal of her, considering. There was a seashell necklace, more a horse collar, that I would have bought just to hang on the wall, if I had deeper pockets. We spent far too long mingling with shoppers before we finally made it to the Botanical Garden & Herbarium.

 

TGBITW in full shopping mode

 

Seashell necklaces or wall hangings?

 

A €400 pair of pre-worn sneakers. And I thought craft beer was expensive…

 

Palermo’s garden specialised in cacti. Bologna’s in peppers. I didn’t know there were so many varieties. My mouth was burning just looking at them, every shape, size and colour. My new camera was getting a good workout: closeups of passion flowers, 200mm telephoto shots of pond frogs. For a while, I forgot how hot it was!I was grateful when lunchtime rolled around.

 

The Botanical Garden and Herbarium seemed to specialise in peppers

 

Barking up the wrong tree

 

Frog

 

Passion flower

 

I did a quick scan of the neighbourhood on Google Maps. We thought Donatello looked good and Google guided us there. (I love Google.) What a great place! Fortunately, there was no place on the terrace to sit, which forced us into the restaurant. It was like every movie star ever had visited, because all their signed photos were on the wall - mostly with Donatello by their side, in a time before selfies.

 

Donatello, Bologna

 

I had a pepper steak with chips and a mozzarella salad. You can buy mozzarella here, but it’s just not the same. Fabulous. This was one of the three best stops on the Italian leg of our trip, and totally unexpected. In fact, of the three, only one was on my list: the lunchtime stop south of Florence. Pure luck. But, I think you would be unlucky to have a bad meal in Bologna. I would come back here in a heartbeat. 

 

One of the best meals of the trip

 

On our way home, we made another pass through the Piazza Maggiore, but took different streets through the neighbourhood, hitting one of the poorer parts of town on way back to our hotel.

 

Deli

 

Mortadella, Bologna

 

Candied fruit

 

Balena. Thank you, Duolingo

 

Bologna

 

Bologna red

 

I figured there is no point living over a Michelin-starred restaurant for three nights and not giving it a try. So Sunday night we did. It was nice.

 

I think deconstruction is the word they use now. Take the essence of a traditional dish and rearrange the elements to arrive at something new. Justify the prices. We had a very nice evening. We sat at the bar for a cocktail first. The chef came out to introduce himself and take us through the menu. Well, that’s nice, isn’t it? We had two drinks before we moved to a table on the terrace, then a bottle of wine. Honestly, I can’t remember what I ate. I recognised the dishes and commented on the original presentation. I just looked at Jo’s diary for help. Of the whole evening, she wrote: Nice food. Pretentious.

 

We walked upstairs to our room, packed, hit the sack.

[freelunch]

Monday 24 September 

Bologna to Salzburg

 

We didn’t have time for breakfast in the park this morning, we had a long drive to Salzburg ahead of us. So, we ate in a café a few doors down from the Fourghetti. Outside the door was a bus shelter busy with commuters and a couple African migrants selling packets of tissues and umbrellas. They didn’t look as desperate as the Africans in Sicily, but they shared the problem of not being allowed to work.

 

Three hours later, we were near Udine. I’d planned on a stop in a restaurant just off the autoroute. “You have reached your destination,” said Susan. No we haven’t,” I said. Back and forth I drove, but could not find Semplicemente di Vino. We found a car park and walked to the first place that looked decent. Turned out to be All’Osteriaccia da Rudy I now learn. Thank you, Google.

 

Our car park and Rudy’s, just off the A23, Udine. Map data ©2018 Google

 

This was the best test of my Italian on the whole trip. Not one word of English spoken here. I did alright and the food was pretty damn good. A two course lunch with wine for €10 each. I had water. Very busy and full of local blue collar types. Much better than the autoroute services.

 

We had a beautiful day for driving. It takes all my fingers and toes to count the times we’ve passed through the Alps or Pyrennees, but the times we’ve had a clear view of the mountain peaks I can count on one hand. I asked TGBITW to try to take some photos on the move, but…

 

Not far from Udine

 

Gemona turn off

 

My preparation for Austria involved buying a 10-day vignette for the autobahn and paying the toll for the A10 in advance, which allowed us to bypass the queues at the toll plaza. Smug? Moi?

 

We were impressed by the Tyrolean Alps and by the weather: beautiful and bloody cold! When we stopped for a rest, we had to put our coats on for the first time since leaving France. The roadside services were a little bit different and I tried to remember my German. We were definitely not in Italy anymore. The only thing the same was the currency.

 

You’re not in Italy anymore, Dorothy

 

From the land of anarchy to the land of laws

 

We were at Addy’s by 6:30. The last time we visited Addy was 2002. She lived in the big apartment with plenty of room to put us up. But since then, she has moved to the ground level flat so that her daughter and family can have the big flat. It meant there was no room for us. I’d tried to get a room in a nearby B&B, but everything was booked. There was a Saint Rupert festival on in town. (Rupert brought salt to Salzburg.) Addy’s eldest daughter, Eva, offered to take us in. She and her husband, Hansi, and son, Stephan, couldn’t have been more welcoming. They gave us Hannes’ room, who was away at college. Thank you, Hannes. 

 

There was a big celebration in Salzburg: a fairground, a bier tent and fireworks from the castle atop the hill. Hansi said I should dress in traditional garb and I found myself wearing lederhosen for the first time. And, hopefully not the last! They were really comfortable and warm. We were chilly for the first time in two weeks.

 

I stand between Hansi and Stephan Graspeutner, ready for St Rupert’s Bierfest

 

In no time at all, I was sitting wedged between drunken Austrians with a liter of very nice beer in one hand and half a spit-roasted chicken in the other. The band was playing traditional brass music and Abba. Everyone was singing. Addy was getting pestered by a drunk and looking rather pleased about it. She doesn’t get out much, I think. I thought it was a great night.

 

Salzburg

 

St Rupert’s fairground

 

St Rupert’s Bierfest

 

St Rupert’s Bierfest

Edited 25 November, 2018 by freelunch

[freelunch]

Tuesday 25 September, Salzburg

 

The Graspeutner’s were off to work by the time Jo and I got out of bed. We helped ourselves to breakfast, did a load of washing, then drove to Addy’s. She had planned to take us into Salzburg for the day. Addy, bless her, had broken her leg at the hip a couple weeks before. Somehow, she managed to get herself together for our visit and insisted that the trip would not be too much trouble. Amazing, really. The crutches she brought along were almost more a hindrance than a help.

 

We walked from the bus to Mirabelle Gardens. Nice floral arrangements and a good laugh when we noticed a group of young English girls dancing down the steps and singing “The hills are alive with the sound of music”. Mum, at the bottom of the steps said she forgot to push the start button on her movie camera. Oh, Mum! They all ran back up the steps for Take Two. Newlyweds were having their photos taken in the garden. It was a beautiful, if chilly day.

 

Mirabelle Gardens, Salzburg

 

Mirabelle Gardens

 

I couldn’t get over how CLEAN and preserved everything was. This was a real culture shock after Italy.

 

We stopped in the Café Bazar on the river and had a light lunch. I had an Austrian version of macaroni & cheese and a beer. Delicious. The service was appropriate to a place that has a history of serving celebrities, as were the prices. We crossed the river into town and headed in the general direction of the cathedral.

 

Salzburg Castle. Never did get any sun on the north face

 

First, Addy showed us the oldest pharmacy in Salzburg. The first thing you spot is the sign that says, “No Photos.” Addy said, “Take pictures, I know the woman who works here.” We were introduced, but I was still reluctant to get my camera out. 

 

Alte F.E. Hof Apotheke…

 

…and inside

 

Lederhosen! Mmmm…

 

Then, coffee across the street to Café Tomaselli for Apfelstrudel mit Schlag. Delicious. Finally, a look inside the cathedral, which we missed last time. It’s spectacular. I was particularly impressed with the ornate ceilings.

 

Salzburg Cathedral. Pretty plain on the outside

 

But pretty spectacular on the inside

 

Ceiling detail

 

Ceiling detail

 

There was an identical set of pipes on each corner of the nave quadrant

 

The Franziskaner Kirche was more severe, but still impressive. 

 

Altar detail, Franziskaner Kirche

 

Then, we were in the Petersfriedhof Cemetery, which has always been the high point of Joanna’s visit to Salzburg. We visited the graves of the Stumpfögger family. Oh, does Joanna love to riff on that name! She and Addy were, well, please! This IS a cemetery. Some decorum, ladies!

 

Disrespecting the poor Stumpföggers

 

Petersfriedhof Cemetery

 

Allowing for summer time, this sun dial was accurate

 

Not a spec of litter in this random shot of Salzburg

 

Time to go home. For dinner, we treated Addy to a meal at Gasthoff The Pflegerbrücke, a ten-minute drive from Addy’s. As soon as you get out of Salzburg, the prices really drop. This place was such a bargain and I had one of my favourite meals: Bratwurst und Sauerkraut mit Kartoffelsalat. The only thing that would have made it better was a beer, but I was driving. Wunderbar! 

 

Bratwurst in Die Pflegerbrüke, Salzburg

 

We dropped Addy at home and headed back to the Graspeutner’s. Everyone was in bed already. Quiet as we could be, we retired.

[freelunch]

Wednesday 26 September, Wolfgangsee

 

View from our room at The Graspeutner’s, Salzburg

 

The Graspeutner’s were off to work by the time Jo and I got out of bed. We helped ourselves to breakfast, then drove to Addy’s. She had planned to take us to Wolfgangsee for the day. Hannibal, her Wolfspitz, came along for the ride. Hannibal is a nice enough dog, but he is a handful. Addy was on crutches, so Jo and I took turns attempting to control the dog. When Hannibal takes off, you better be firmly planted. He is a sturdy little animal.

 

When we got to St Gilgen on Wolfgangsee, we bought tickets for the ferry. Hannibal needed a ticket. Hannibal also needed a muzzle. Not surprisingly, the ferry company had one for sale. I thought the muzzle was a good idea, but Hannibal most definitely did not. Addy managed to wrestle it on, but by the time we got on the ferry, Hannibal has wrestled it off, just hanging loose around his neck. The conductor didn’t seem to mind. I think the sale was more important. Anyway, Hanni didn’t bite anyone.

 

On the ferry, Wolfgangsee, Austria

 

Jo, Addy and Hannibal

 

St Wolfgang im Salzkammergut

 

Wolfgangsee was beautiful. The lake was turquoise, reflecting the slight clouds, blue sky and surrounding moutains. Not for the first time, I remarked how CLEAN everything was, especially just coming from southern Italy. London looked pretty shabby when we returned, too. We reached the village of St Wolfgang im Salzkammergut. Tourist tat turned to ten. We found a café, had a coffee then headed back to someplace more real for lunch.

 

St Wolfgang

 

Hummingbird moth, St Wolfgang

 

Wolfgangsee

 

Wolfgangsee

 

Wolfgangsee

 

That turned out to be the Hotel & Gasthof Fürberg in, um, Fürberg. I did not ask if they had Fürbergers, I had a pork Schnitzel instead, and it was very nice. We enjoyed the fine weather and nice views, but sat off to the side a bit to avoid the three other dogs that had caught Hanni’s eye. He’s just like a two-year-old, really. You have to watch him all the time.

 

Reclining in Fürberg

 

I strolled along the water’s edge and wondered what kind of fish were swimming by. Then we were off back home. The whole excursion took four or five hours. We had just enough time to get back to the Graspeutner’s and dress for dinner. The whole family were going out to a family restaurant in the ‘burbs tonight.

 

I wish I could remember the name of the place, but Hansi was driving and I don’t have a clue where we were. But, it was a nice, big, loud, friendly place. I ordered a port filet - a d.i.y. pork filet. What I got was sliced raw pork filet and an extremely hot 9” square by 3” deep “lava stone” on which to cook my pork. I quickly sussed that you could just cook the meat as you were eating it, so everything was hot through the meal. I can’t count how many times I’ve sent rare steaks back to the kitchen to be warmed up, because I can’t eat them quickly enough. And, cold meat is not my favourite thing. So, this cooking method was a treat. 

 

TGBITW entertains Eva and Hansi Graspeutner

 

We had a really jolly evening and thanked everyone for putting up with us and showing us such a good time. Tomorrow, we were really on the homeward leg.

[freelunch]

Thursday 27 September 

Salzburg to Ulm to Metz

 

The Graspeutner’s were off to work by the time Jo and I got out of bed. We helped ourselves to breakfast, then headed for the Autobahn. Stopping for petrol, the attendant (really?) noticed my GB sticker and asked where I was from. As soon as I said London, he shouted, “Arnautovic!” He still made me pay for my gas.

 

Our lunchtime destination was Ulm. Not for the first time, I missed the garage entrance and drove through the pedestrian precinct until I found a dodgy place to park. That meant that lunch in front of the Rathaus was a rushed affair. Still, I enjoyed my Maultaschen and sparkling water. I was less pleased by the fact that I had to go into the restaurant and try to track down our waitress in order to pay the bill. It’s too bad we didn’t allow more time to explore Ulm. It looked like a nice place. Certainly the Rathaus looked a bit special.

 

Ulm Rathaus

 

Rathaus detail

 

Detail

 

Because of the by-now-routine traffic accidents and road works on the German Autobahn, it was a long haul to Metz and it was almost dark by the time we got to the Novotel. We stayed in this place five years ago and had a couple nights in Metz (pronounced Mez, we learned). It’s a nice town, worth two or three nights and a good way station. But, we won’t be staying in the Novotel again. I’d forgotten how inadequate the lifts are to cope with the volume of traffic, mostly Chinese tour groups now. And I don’t think the place has been cleaned since the last time we were there. Fortunately, it was only one night.

 

We just had time to find a restaurant for last orders. We found L’épicurien and it looked like we had the place to ourselves. As we came in the door, I attempted to speak French for the first time in three weeks. It didn’t come out. The hostess addressed me in English and seated us. When she came to take our order, Jo said, “You speak very good English.” She said, “I am English.” So, between arrival at the hotel, dinner and departure, I didn’t not speak a single word of French in Metz.

 

Oh yeah: our meal was fabulous. Charolais with a pepper sauce, frites, keep it simple. Nice wine, then our hostess and her husband, the chef, joined us for a glass of wine and we discussed the state of the world. Nice. I’d happliy go back to Metz and L’épicurien, but not the Novotel.

 

I don’t think I slept well. Our room was too hot and I couldn’t open the window.

 

Friday 28 September 

Metz to Mons to London

 

In the morning, we took the time to visit the Metz cathedral and have breakfast opposite before we hit the autoroute to Mons for lunch. 

 

Metz cathedral, entrance detail

 

Entrance detail

 

Metz cathedral, the light side

 

Metz cathedral, the dark side

 

Detail

 

Stained glass by Marc Chagall

 

Metz, France

 

We stopped in Mons because we’d never been before. A rough little working class university town. Lunch in Le Saint Germain in the Grand-Place de Mons was fine, can’t remember what I had, and the student protest outside was worth a couple photos. As was the really nice VW sports car. Some sort of Karmann Ghia? Dunno.

 

Mons Chateau de Ville, Belgium

 

What the heck are these?

 

Karmann Ghia, Mons wedding party

 

Students doing studenty things

 

Mons, Belgium

 

Really, all we were thinking about now was our own bed. Quick to Calais, board the next train, quick to London, home again, home again, jiggety-jig. 23 days of too much fun. Wonderful. Oh yeah, I stepped on the scale the next morning. Over 23 days of eating and drinking, I gained 200 grams. Raise a glass to the health benefits of walking miles a day!

Edited 26 November, 2018 by freelunch

[john999boy]

A truly excellent posting. 

 

[freelunch]

Thanks!

[xman]

Excellent photography!

[freelunch]

Thanks!