A Polish journey

Standard

I wiped my eyes. The temperatures in Warsaw were plummeting by the day. The chill wind stung my eyes, and caused them to water. We shivered in our layers, and lightweight coats -the Poles, more sensibly, were quickly into their winter woollies, hats, boots, and scarves. It didn’t stop us sightseeing though, and led by our friend we had no choice but to keep up a rapid pace. The town centre of Warsaw, destroyed in the war by the German occupying force, was completely rebuilt in the years following, and is a beautiful sight. We were privileged to get a private tour through the heritage museum with the son of one of the architects, showing us his father’s work, and talking about the process of reconstruction. Of course, this occurred during the Soviet era, so it wasn’t without difficulties, and his father ended up being forced to escape to Australia. In fact, he said that many people in Poland (non-Jews and persecuted minorities of course) consider the Soviet era to have been more difficult than the war years.

I wiped my eyes. For hours I had been straining them in an effort to see the deer we had been promised. But after three days in a car over the weekend, and into our third hour on the train south, the deer were proving to be elusive. The fellow travellers in our compartment, an American couple, suggested we admit defeat. They too were tiring of looking. And of course, as is the way of things, soon six or seven deer appeared at the edge of a cornfield, skittishly running off as the train sped past. I sat back and relaxed, satisfied.

It had been a good weekend. A four hour drive from Warsaw, our friends had planned the trip and we were only too happy to leave the decisions to them. We found ourselves sleeping in a haunted (supposedly) castle, though the ghost did not show itself, eating and drinking in quaint restaurants and old SS barracks, shivering at Hitler’s headquarters (the Wolf’s Lair), squishing through a marsh in search of Europe’s largest swan colony, smiling at a newly married Polish couple and their guests celebrating outside the church and loudly honking their horns as they drove round and around the village, sighing at the utter beauty of the lake district in full autumn colours, and snapping photos at the (unstaffed) Russian border. The countryside in Poland proved to be an unexpected pleasure, with rolling hills, beautiful tree-lined (albeit slow) roads, and soft, autumn light.

And now we were on the train to Krakow, former capital of Poland, and a beautiful city undamaged (physically) by the Second World War. The town square is large and beautiful, and even in the October chill it throngs with tourists. Wawel Castle overlooks the Old Town, and churches appear every street or two. University students (there are 120,000 in the city) form flashmobs, roller blading around the square in the evening, and square dancers entertain under the gaze of the old church. There are endless churches and museums, a rare Da Vinci to ogle, and plenty of history to keep you amused. If the Husband annoys, you can even send him to the Salt Mine (though you might find it interesting yourself, even if the final ride to the top in an industrial lift is a bit too claustrophobic for my liking).

Just down the street from our hotel is the Jewish quarter, now a bustling area with restaurants and clubs, and the Old Synagogue. And across the river you will find the infamous former Jewish ghetto, streets that look familiar from countless documentaries and movies. And at the edge of the former ghetto is Schindler’s factory, now a museum telling the story of the Jews in Krakow, and of the factory and its workers.

No first-time visit to Krakow though is complete without visiting Auschwitz-Birkenau. It seemed appropriate to be there on a cold, gloomy day. The sights again are familiar, as are many of the stories and much of the information. But standing there, taking in the sheer magnitude of the horror, seeing the barracks and execution sites, walking through a gas chamber, past the train tracks where selections occurred, walking over the cobblestones – approximately 1.2 million representing the lives lost there – and imagining what it must have felt like, is indescribable.

I wiped my eyes.

Where are we now?

Standard

This blog name and design now seems inappropriate, given the temperatures and gloom we’re in now. But the principle behind it still stands, and I’m going to see it through.

Three months in Italy saw us cover enough of the country, and we got out hours before we officially would have become over-stayers. A two hour flight saw us head north, into lands where autumn has well and truly arrived. Where autumn is equivalent to a cold Wellington winter. Where two people, after acclimatising to the heat of the Middle East and an Italian summer, shiver in their lightweight but easy-to-pack jackets, wear layer upon layer, and make plans to buy hats and scarves as soon as they can. Where nine degree highs are a sharp contrast to the 20 degree evenings that made at least one of us shiver back in beautiful Monopoli.

Here we are in the ancestral lands of The Husband, the land where at least one of his great grandparents decided to leave and take a chance on the other side of the world. Here we are, in a land where it is a little easier to blend in, until we open our mouths, that is. Here we are in a land to which I have only ever paid cursory attention, even given its role in two of the major world events of the 20th century (and that I studied in one of my majors). Here we are in a country that kicked off a revolution, and gave birth to a major religious leader.

Here we are in Poland. For a couple of weeks, at least.

Food for thought: Ten Features of Italian Food

Standard
  1. Bread. We are generally very disappointed with the bread in Italy. Crusty bread with nothing between the crust makes eating a sandwich (panino) dry and difficult, if not downright painful. Only a few examples of sliced bread were available (and scarily these last for weeks), and I’ve already talked about toast. However, we did have some lovely bread that was made in-house by a couple of restaurants, and I also liked the southern variations on panini – puccie (a puccia is like a pizza crust, cut in half horizontally, and filled like a sandwich), and piadine (a piadina is a flat bread, like a slightly thick tortilla, filled like a sandwich, and grilled or fried till it is crispy).
  2. The Italians really eat very little meat. The meat sections in most menus were very limited. In a casual restaurant, you can get slices of beef (poorer cuts) or the very occasional fillet, usually offered with a green pepper sauce or occasionally red wine. We rarely found pork or lamb on the menu – only in the Italian lakes. Bread-crumbed (much like schnitzel) veal or chicken (the only chicken you’d find on a menu) made a regular but not compulsory appearance. We thought we might have better luck in the supermarkets or butcher shops, and in the north managed to find some fillet steak at about the same price as we’d buy in New Zealand (though not the same quality), which we cooked at home to satisfy our red meat/iron cravings.
  3. Rocket and provolone. The Italians love rocket. You find it on pizzas, or on top of grilled meat, sprinkled with some grated provolone cheese.  Almost without exception, when I saw an Italian woman eatiing a pizza, it had fresh rocket scattered across it.
  4. Grilled vegetables are on almost every menu. In Spain we loved these because they included capsicums. But here, most of the time, there was eggplant and zucchini only. Delicious, but ultimately monotonous.
  5. Pizza and pasta were everywhere. We had a variety of both, my favourite pasta from Rome (a funghi tortellini), and my favourite pizza (three different types of tomato, pesto, and buffalo mozzarella) in Monopoli.
  6. The Italians don’t really go in for desserts. Perhaps because they spend all day nibbling on pastries with their coffee, or eating gelato, there were very few menus with dessert. The occasional tiramisu or pannacotta, and occasional chocolate cake or chocolate fondant, really a French dessert. Our favourite trattoria in Vittorio Veneto had a delicious pear cake dessert, but other than that, pickings were scarce. Probably a good thing, given our regular consumption of gelato. But on the few occasions when we did attempt a dessert (other than the afore-mentioned pear cake), they were 80% whipped cream.
  7. Breakfast. Cereal pickings were also scarce, with only a few options available in the supermarket. (The Husband was horrified to discover there was no weet-bix!)  Yet there would be full aisles dedicated to packaged, take-home pastries, filled with jam or chocolate cream. We decided to try one of these, in the interests of blending in. Essentially sweet bread rolls made to look like the Italian version of a croissant, a cornetto, they were not that appealing. The Food Tour guides mentioned that Italians will often, like hobbits, have two breakfasts. Both are the same – a light cornetto (not as buttery or heavy as a croissant) and an espresso or cappuccino first thing, then another mid-morning, to keep them going till lunch.
  8. Seafood is a popular choice. Italians love seafood, and it is part of the Mediterranean diet. In Puglia, the seafood antipasti offerings must be tried. You don’t need anything for primi or secondi – a seafood antipasto is enough! And I lost count of the number of seafood pasta dishes I ate.  Seafood means shell-fish, octopus and squid more than fish.  Seafood is cheap.  Fish on the other hand was much more expensive, and charged by the etti (100 grams).  The most expensive dish we had was a filleted fish!
  9. The dish I want to recreate when I get home is the pumpkin gnocchi, drizzled with just a bit of olive oil and parmesan, that I ate in the Trattoria alla Cerva in Vittorio Veneto. I can still taste it. Sigh (bliss).
  10. “Ahhh,” everyone says when you say you are going to Italy. “Italian food is so good!” And yes, they are right. Much Italian food is truly excellent. But this time we found exactly the problem we discovered the first time we visited Italy. Menus don’t really vary. Traditional Italian food is exactly that, traditional. Except in special, innovative restaurants there is no fusion of old and new ideas, little evidence that chefs here take something traditional and put a twist on it. And certainly no suggestion of a fusion between Italian and another food culture, let alone a fusion between East and West that we are so familiar with at home. The passion about food exhibited by the Italians seems contradictory to their lack of interest in new foods. Is it fear of the foreign? Is it a concern that trying something new could be seen as verging on the traitorous? Is it an inability to comprehend that food from other places, or food that hasn’t been around for hundreds of years, could possibly be any good? Is their national pride so fragile that they fear that different food might be better? Or is it simply an insular focus on what they know, the security of the traditional, and the comfort of eating only the food that mamma used to make?
La Dolce Vita pizza.  The best I had in three months in Italy.

La Dolce Vita pizza. The best I had in three months in Italy.

Sean from Ireland

Standard

I have to admit.  I have a crush.  It’s the lilting tones in his voice, the soft but sexy accent, the way he says “turn.”  He came into our lives as the American left.  The American with her strong, nasal accent, and her annoying terminology.  Sean quickly became part of the team, the three of us as we explore this country.  He is another voice, reasoned, never stressed out, only occasionally irritating.  And he doesn’t take offence.  Not really.  Because occasionally we yell at him.  Sometimes, when he’s quiet, we comment that we miss the sound of his voice, his presence, his reassurance that all is well.

And yes, Sean does have a few flaws.  But at least he doesn’t say “rotary” like the American.  Rather, his soft vowels caress the word “roundabout” making us look forward to the next one, rather than cringing as we did in those early days with the American.  Likewise, he hasn’t tried to send us up a one-way street and kill ourselves as she did, though to be fair, he has suggested sometimes that we turn (torrrn) into non-existent roads off a mountain, but I’m not going to hold that against him.  He is an egalitarian, believing (it seems) that – once off a motorway – all roads are equal.  This has worked to our advantage, down scenic lanes lined with stone walls, but also to our disadvantage, taking us through pedestrian only streets, scenic lanes that are so narrow we have to stop and pull in the wing mirrors, and on crazy detours.  Sean too has been neglected by his masters, forced to rely on information that is now almost three years old, unaware of developments such as the new ring road around Locorotondo, or smoother connections between the different highways and autostradas.  He knows where we live right now, but doesn’t know it is number 27.  That’s just not fair.  Imagine his sense of defeat and humiliation when I had to ask at the Agip station?

Today we say farewell to Sean.  Good-bye, Sean, and t’ank you.

Top Ten Places to Visit in Puglia

Standard

On this, our last day in Puglia, I wanted to share our top ten places at this end of Italy:

  1. Monopoli
  2. Alberobello
  3. Pulignano a Mare
  4. Matera
  5. Lecce
  6. Otranto
  7. Trani
  8. Capitolo
  9. Locorotondo, Ostuni and the white villages

1.     Monopoli – It may not appear in many of the guidebooks, but it is well worth a visit.  A lovely friendly little town, with great restaurants, public beaches right there, and everything you could need.  Consider using it as a less touristy base for explorations in Puglia.  You can of course read my previous writings about my love affair with Monopoli here.

2.     Alberobello – Those cone-shaped little huts are only found in Puglia, and the highest concentration is at Alberobello, the UNESCO World Heritage site.  Read more here.

3.     Pulignano a Mare – We didn’t feel like a major expedition one Sunday, so decided that a 10 minute drive just up the road was a good idea.  And it was.  Pulignanon a Mare (Pulignano on the sea) is a beautiful little white town perched high on rocks, with the usual narrow winding streets, elegant piazzas, and pretty church.  The walled town was once circled by a moat, and you can still see the slots for the chains to the drawbridge at the entrance to the old town, alongside a 16th century fresco.  The beach next to the town is dramatic beside the cliffs, but perfectly located for a quick dip.  There’s a good parking lot at the back of the town (take the Conversano exit and turn right), with a pathway down to the town and beach.

4.     Matera – strictly speaking, not in Puglia, but in Basilicata, it is worth the drive and close enough that you must include it in any visit to Puglia.  Driving through the countryside gave us plenty of opportunities to stop and take some classic Italian photos, wave to a farmer with a haul of grapes in the bed of his truck, admire some goats, drink some good coffee, and still get to the look-out before mid-day, to capture the best light.  The only really useful piece of information that Lonely Planet gave us in three months in Italy was to look for the belvedere on the road west out of town.

Old Matera and the sassi from the lookout

Driving in, we managed to find a park off the main ring road (Via Lucana) and then it was an easy and relaxed walk into the piazza for lunch, then down into old Matera, the home of the sassi, or caves where as recently as 1950 50% of the population lived, often in squalor, living in caves meant for animals.  The sassi are gradually being renovated, and the town is no longer mired in poverty, but has a budding tourist industry, thanks to a UNESCO World Heritage listing.  A network of channels and pipes and underground cisterns maintained the water supply for the population, but also the sewage, which may explain why the government evacuated the residents in the 1950s.

5.     Lecce – A golden town, basking in the sun in the centre of Puglia’s heel, Lecce would have been an excellent base for our trip if it hadn’t been quite so far south.  Wide streets (except for in the very centre of the old town), elegant shops, and plenty of parking (on a Sunday at least), made it a pleasure to arrive in and stroll through to the old town.  Bar blackboards advertised two items new to us – one an iced coffee made with a dash of almond milk, and – perhaps more to our taste – a Lecce pastry (pasticciotto leccese) or shortcake (almost a friand)  with a custard filling, ideal for a morning snack before tackling the sights.  We started at the basilica, and wandered through the streets, getting to the main square complete with the ruins of a Roman amphitheatre, as well as the customary gelaterias, bars, restaurants and miscellaneous churches around the edges.  A deli/café called Doppiozero was an interesting spot for lunch, in one of the streets skirting the cathedral.  Steering away from the customary Italian lunch fare, this was more like a modern deli in Wellington, Sydney, or London than in traditional, habit-bound Italy.  Unique and different in Italy, it was obviously extremely popular.

6.     Otranto and the south – The easternmost point of Italy, Otranto is yet another charming little white town on the coast.  It has a wide bay, filled with coves and beaches (the usual horrors with wall to wall beach chairs and umbrellas, though also with good sand) and a few public areas.  Rocks provide interesting spots to swim out to, yachts enjoy the breeze, and tourists (like us) walk around the waterfront.  A castle stands guard, but duck through the walls into the old town and you find some lovely little streets and tiny piazzas.The cathedral here provides a hint of the history of the town.  The mosaic floors date from the 12th century, and are very impressive.  More chilling, though, are the carefully arranged skulls and bones in one of the chapels, remembering the martyrs of Otranto, who were killed by the Ottoman invaders in the 15th century.  Over 800 people were murdered, some say because they would not convert to Islam, others suggest that it was punishment for the resistance they put up to the invasion.

Further south, it is easy to see we’re coming to the end of the line.  The road deteriorates, and at Leuca, the majority of businesses have shut up shop after the August rush.  There were some interesting features on the drive – unusual shaped farm buildings scattered amongst the olives, menhirs and dolmens right out of Asterix and Obelix, and fishing villages.  We went because we wanted to go to the tip of the heel.  For that it was worth adding on to the visit to Otranto.

7.     Trani – North of Monopoli and Bari, Trani’s beautiful cathedral is worth a visit.  Starkly located out on a point, just along from another of Ferdinand II’s castles, the cathedral is beautiful in its simplicity.  Wander through the old town surrounding it, and you might find (as we did) the Knights Templar church home to the first Crusades, and then pop out at the marina, where there are a small group of restaurants and cafes lining the shore.  La Perla del Sud delivered a thin crusty pizza and a delicious seafood orecchiete, and a lovely view.

From Trani, drive inland around Andria to Castel del Monte, this odd octagonal castle dating from the 13th century.  No-one knows exactly why it was built – it was never lived in, there are no kitchens, and no other defensive fortifications.  Extensive reconstruction has been carried out, and it is another interesting World Heritage site.

8.     Grotte di Castellana – Extensive caves, huge caverns, and enormous and beautiful stalactites and stalacmites await in the caves of Castellana.  You need to explore with a guide, but the walk is easy (providing you have decent footwear) with wide paths.  There are one-hour and two-hour tours.  The husband chose the two hour, and was very happy with it.  Photographs sadly weren’t permitted.

9.     Capitolo coast  – On the main motorway south, between Bari and Brindese, there is a stretch of coastline worth exploring.  From Torre Canne, up to Capitolo and into Monopoli, there is a rocky coast.  Few sandy beaches exist, but this doesn’t deter the sun-seeking Italians and other Europeans who flood into the region in mid-summer.  By September the coast is almost a wasteland – only a few of the beach resorts remain open, but they are an interesting and pleasant place to relax for lunch off the main highway.  Unfortunately temperatures dipped, and with high winds and choppy seas, we didn’t get our dip in the Adriatic.  There are other things to do though –walks through the national park areas of Torre Guaceto, visits to the towers that scatter the coast (there for defensive reasons or communication – able to provide first warnings of invaders perhaps), or a visit to the Roman ruins of Egnazia, where the Via Appia Antica reached the Adriatic.

Not exactly a sandy paradise

Not exactly a sandy paradise

10.     Locorotondo, Ostuni and the white villages.  The other towns of Puglia – Monopoli and Polignano a Mare, and yes, Otranto  – are so lovely that Locorotondo and Ostuni risked being left off our list completely.  These two villages – along with Martina Franca (which we drove through) and Cisternino (which we flagged) – are on all the lists of places to visit in Puglia.  And they are lovely.  But I didn’t feel they had the heart that you find in Monopoli and Polignano.  Still, it’s worth visiting them.

Ostuni is a white town on a hill, with a defensive wall.  Apparently you can walk around the outside of the walls, but there was no tourist information or signage, and the views on the way in weren’t ideal.  The town itself was pleasant – narrow streets and white houses.  The view was the best part of it, with vistas of endless olives, and the Adriatic Sea stretching out beyond.

Locorotondo is my favourite of these two towns, and definitely worth a visit.  A lovely white town on top of a hill.  Take the ring road towards Martina Franca, and you’ll find some lovely views back to the town.  Venture inside, and – after much swearing and difficult navigating of the town (we went twice and still couldn’t find an easy way to get to the main carpark – which on Friday was covered with a market anyway) – you’ll find a quiet and beautiful white village.  Locorotondo is feted as being one of the most beautiful of Italian towns.  And it is almost too perfect – white streets, and pretty flower-filled window-boxes.  Walk through the town from the main gate, past the church to the opposite side and you’ll find a pleasant little park, with a view across the countryside.  It is here where you might first see how many trulli there are outside of Alberobello, some still part of farmhouses, others left to ruin gracefully amongst the olives.

It is here too though you see a real similarity with a small town in New Zealand.  The war memorial lists the dead from both World Wars.  Family names predominate in both lists.  I grieved for the family Palmisano, losing so many sons in WWI, then so many more in WWII.  And yet on the way back to Monopoli, I was pleased to see evidence of survival and I hope prosperity –  an advertisement for a business “Palmisano and sons.”

Another day, another UNESCO World Heritage site

Standard

Our explorations in Monopoli are those of new residents.  Our explorations through wider Puglia are purely those of tourists.  Armed with suntan lotion, insect repellent, a good hat, walking shoes, bottle of water, GPS, and of course our cameras, every day or two we venture out.  Another day, another charming village.  We are fortunate that in Monopoli we are surrounded by several beautiful towns, all within an easy 30 minutes drive.  We have yet to visit Martina Franca, but we were charmed by beautiful white Locorotondo, and enjoyed the views from Ostuni.  We drive to these villages through the stone-walled olive plantations (groves might be traditional, but the word doesn’t adequately describe the sheer magnitude of the olive plantings down here), up onto the Murgia plateau and the Itria Valley to find these lovely white towns. 

And on the way, just in this part of Puglia, we are treated to a peak at life as it might have been back in the 17th and 18th centuries.  You see, this is trulli country.  And to see trulli, you have to visit the town of Alberobello.  Easy to get to, easy to find parking, good signposts to the “zona trulli,” Alberobello is a major tourist site.  Because here you find a trulli community, with hundreds of trulli – the most dense concentration of these strange conical huts anywhere.  These days of course, with UNESCO World Heritage site status, many of the trulli are souvenir shops, bed and breakfasts, and restaurants.  And it is fascinating to walk the streets, looking at these odd constructions.

But the trulli aren’t limited to Alberobello.  Drive anywhere in the Bari region, and you will find trulli scattered amongst olives and vines.  Trulli form part of farmhouses, and are renovated for hotels, bed and breakfasts, and rental accommodation.  Dilapidated trulli appear to be protected, left in natural states of disrepair in fields, under trees, overgrown with prickly pear cacti, or surrounded by vegetable plantings.  They are most prevalent on the plateau, but they are in fact scattered over the entire province, right down to the coast.  We enjoy all these sightings, spying a trullo when we least expect it, just as much as (or perhaps more than ) at the World Heritage site at Alberobello.

Serendipity

Standard

When leaving the tower, Fabia asked where we were going next. 

“Vittorio Veneto,” we replied.

After correcting my pronunciation of Veneto (VEN-eto not VenEEto), she looked puzzled, and then almost offended.  “Why are you going there?” she asked.

We shrugged.  “Because there was an apartment we liked.”

And it was almost as simple as that.  It turned out well.  Likewise, when deciding where to stay in Puglia, we looked at apartments we liked the look of, that met all our requirements (wi-fi, washing machine, and air-conditioning), and that were in a decent location.  We didn’t want to be too far south, as it would take too many hours travelling for day trips.  Monopoli looked like a good destination.  Not that we could find anything about it in guidebooks.  We shrugged.  All we needed in a nearby town (we’re on the outskirts) was a supermarket, and a few restaurants.  Any Italian town would have those.  We could explore when we got here.

After arriving the night before, we ventured out the next morning.  After navigating the one-way system through narrow streets, we found a park down near the port.  We set off, and just around the corner, only a few metres from our park, we saw the inner harbour and the old town.  The Castle took pride of place, guarding the busy, working harbour.  We found the gate into the old town, and emerged into a bright, sunny, flower-filled piazza, lined with lovely buildings and restaurants, an old clock tower surveying its territory.  What a delight!

Lunch at the bustling Vini e Panini was a treat – inevitably, we shared vini, panini and a salad, as we soaked in the happy atmosphere of this little town that is completely absent from our guidebook.  After lunch, we decided to wander.  We walked around the harbour, past the castle, and around the waterfront.  We have explored more extensively since, finding narrow cobbled streets, a popular beach right beside the city walls, good restaurants, and a number of charming churches (on the outside at least), as well as a few subterranean churches or chapels dug into the rocks.  As the old town ends, and new town begins, there is a large piazza, bustling in the early evening with people strolling on their passegiata, families, elderly and the young all there, eating gelati and catching up with friends and family.  There are few shops and restaurants around the piazza, surprising us.  But we have since realised that the locals head to the old town for their special occasions, their Saturday nights, filling the streets and restaurants, meeting friends, chatting to neighbours, buying drinks at the Pineapple, all contributing to the wonderful atmosphere.

We feel quite at home here  We know the different routes to the port, where to find parking in the evening when the port carpark is full.  We know how the harbour and the boats and the buildings look different as the light changes.  We know where to get the best view for an evening prosecco, if it isn’t too windy, and where to find the best pizza (La Dolce Vita).  The man in the local enoteca (wine shop) knows us, as does the man at Palazzo Indelli  (though he doesn’t seem to know not to suggest the most expensive wine).  We know which lanes through the centre of the old town will get us back to the piazza, and where the carabinieri park all their cars.  We knew where to take our friend for seafood (Palazzo Indelli)  when she visited over the weekend.  And since then, we’ve discovered more new things, come upon a few new chapels, tried a new restaurant with the best bread so far in Italy (Il Punto Cardinale), walked down some very narrow winding streets we hadn’t found before, and found the butcher who spit-roasts chicken (over roast potatoes) to take away (dinner last night).

We know now that a few travel writers on-line have discovered Monopoli, agreeing with our perception that this is one of the most charming of all towns in Puglia.  We know that those who miss it off their recommendations must never have bothered enough to visit, let alone explore.  We know that we absolutely adore Monopoli.