Last Friday, we left the Academy at 6:45am, in a train of taxis to
Termini. It was a four-hour ride south
to Bari, where we were met at the station by Daniele, the driver of a mini
touring bus (there were only two dozen of us, so not enough for the huge coach
bus). Our first stop was Polignano a
Mare, on the sea as its name implies.
I’ve never seen the Adriatic from any vantage point besides Venice! It was beautiful. We had lunch at a seafood restaurant
recommended by local friends of the Academy staff (I opted vegetarian and was
pleased with my choice). We stopped in
town at a contemporary art foundation, checked out the quaint seaside-town
aspect of the place, and argued about the odd proportions of the main church,
which was broad and squat, with a weird combination of Romanesque and later
characteristics.
Then we drove to Lecce, where our hotel was really quite
luxurious. Robes and slippers in the
rooms! Denise and I made sure to make
use of them. Because lunch had been big,
expensive, and had included wine (bad idea if you want to stay awake in the
afternoon) many of us decided to skip the arranged dinner and find something
small to eat on our own. This experience
would later be dubbed Cheesegate, because when we tried to confirm that the
cheese plates we were ordering were enough for four people, our waiter decided
to bring us four times as much cheese. Literally, we got a massive platter heaped
with 40 euros’ worth of locally-made artisanal cheese, which was about 30
euros’ worth more than we wanted—plus two plates of mozzarella and some really
delicious ricotta. It was all very tasty
cheese, but to paraphrase Samuel L. Jackson, there was too much motherfuckin’
cheese on my motherfuckin’ plate! We
were divided in opinion over whether the waiter was honestly confused (at the
time of ordering, there were a lot more in our group than eventually stayed
around to eat) or whether there was malice aforethought. I thought he seemed very nice. Anyway, we
did our best, but maybe only killed 60% of the cheese. Our real concern was the bill, since it
burned us to think we might have skipped the 25 euro prix-fixe dinner only to
spend more accidentally elsewhere!
There, at least, we were lucky—only 18 euro a person. We took the rest of the cheese to go, and
agreed to attend the other planned dinners, tails between our legs.
After touring some of the sights in Lecce the next morning, and admiring the strength of the southern sun striking all the white pietra leccese, we were off toward Matera, the city of caves. On our way, Heather mentioned that there was an ancient Greek temple in the area, so we detoured to take a look. It was a lovely, quiet spot, and the remains of the temple were impressive. Then we drove to a lookout that faced Matera proper, as the sun was setting. The country was rugged, mountainous, and rocky--the soft stone that would furnish the caves inhabited by the local residents for centuries.
If Matera looked wonderful from the outside, that was nothing relative to the fairy-land aspect it held once you were inside, looking from hill to hill covered with warrens of stone-cut structures, seemingly sprouting organically from the hillside. Our hotel was in fact a cave hotel, with each room in its own cave, ranging all the way up a very steep hill to Liz, Krys, and Anna's room, which had a terrace, down to the valley floor, where Denise and I shared a passable-but-nothing-special chamber. It was basically cool to say "hey, I slept in a cave!" but if I came back I would certainly go stay in a modern hotel overlooking the cave. World's tiniest shower, that room had...it was a big change from the luxury of the previous evening.
The next morning we had one of those cool moments that happen only by good fortune. While a few of us were checking out the town center, we realized that the huge underground cistern was about to open. This was 9:30, and we needed to meet our group at 9:45. The cistern is visit-able by a 25-minute guided tour...in theory. Denise asked the surly man who came to unlock the gate if we could just pay the three-euro fee and pop in for a few minutes--and he said yes! We descended into this ghostly, cavernous space, with walls that looked worn smooth by simple erosion but were in fact carved by manual labor. We had the place to ourselves for ten minutes. As we hurried back to the exit, the first tour group was entering, and the cacophony produced by all those voices was surprising. We really got a treat in being able to visit it in silence. The acoustics were tremendous--Denise sang for us briefly, and it was magical.
That morning we explored the cave churches (chiese rupestre) and cave dwellings of Matera, learning about its incredible history. After World War II, the living conditions of Matera was branded "the national shame of Italy", and the government eventually built a brand-new town, Martella, and forced its 18k residents to leave, condemning the entire city. Fast-forward a few decades, and Matera has become a tourist mecca. It was even announced as EU Capital of Culture for 2019 the day before we arrived!
That afternoon we went to a town called Canosa di Puglia, where we met Renato, "the man with the keys." Literally--this little satyr of a man had a massive ring of keys at his built, which opened seemingly every archaeological site in this town. It was one of the differences we saw in the south, terms of organizing access to cultural sites; since there's no money to keep these places open all the time, visiting tends to be by guides only, on appointment. The plus side is that the guides are local, well-informed, and extremely proud of their heritage. The two highlights were a 2nd-century BCE tomb chamber, underneath a modern apartment complex, with surviving frescoes above the temple-front entrance, and the medieval Baptistery, which was built over Roman-era ruins. The Canosian tribe sided with the Romans against Hannibal, and fought with them at Cannae; they managed to capture some Carthiginians despite the defeat, and ritually executed them back home as a sign of friendship to Rome. Diplomacy! The skeletons--far too tall to be ancient Italic people--are visible in the excavated holes inside the baptistery.
After a fairly exhausting day, our destination was the seaside city of Trani, where our hotel was vast in scale, if somewhat tired in furnishings. Our bathroom was the size of my AAR bedroom, so large it was kind of unsettling, because it was all empty space! No bathtub, and a regulation-size shower, and then emptiness. Still, the hot shower before dinner was much appreciated. Our final group meal was at a place called Locanda dei Quattro Ducati, and it was divine. It also was largely fish, but this time I went for it, and was not disappointed! One of the appetizers was riso da venere (black local rice) with a cream that turned out to be smoked salmon aioli. Now, typically if you told me "rice with fish sauce" I would run away, but it was subtle and perfectly flavored. We entertained ourselves at the table with a game that everyone has been playing: casting people with their opposite-gender Hollywood doppleganger. I was given Mark Ruffalo, which pleased me thoroughly!
On our last morning, Monday, we toured Trani's medieval sites, and in particular some of its synagogues, which survived because they were converted into Christian churches. At the Duomo, I managed to muster enough of my Italian (and the polite subjunctive phrase "se fosse possibile..." learned from Carla) to request that the rector allow Nathan and I onto the altar to photograph a medieval mosaic of Alexander the Great. Win! We climbed the belltower afterward, and enjoyed the spectacular view over the ocean. I spent a pleasant half-hour reading Il Gattopardo on the stone benches on the wall that lines the public park, which stretches for a mile or so down the coastal side of the city.
Our very last site visit was Castel del Monte, an odd, unfinished octagonal fortress crowning one of the tallest hills in the region, which may have belonged to Frederick II, a famous medieval ruler. The interior was nothing special, but outside, the view over the surrounding countryside was magnificent. I sat in the grass for a while, soaking up the fairly weak sun that day, and there was a brief period, maybe just 5 minutes, when there was...silence. No sounds of voices, no crunching gravel, no breeze, just near-total quiet and the incredible view. It was a Wordsworth-ian moment, broken shortly thereafter by the two teenagers who were desporting themselves on the hillside not far away.
It was a great experience. The strength of the light in the south, the great beauty of the countryside--so different from what I've seen in Lazio, in Tuscany, and in the Veneto...I look forward to going back. Carla and I might go to Matera, in fact, in honor of her birthday when both us get back in January. No caves, though. Absolutely no caves.
The next morning we had one of those cool moments that happen only by good fortune. While a few of us were checking out the town center, we realized that the huge underground cistern was about to open. This was 9:30, and we needed to meet our group at 9:45. The cistern is visit-able by a 25-minute guided tour...in theory. Denise asked the surly man who came to unlock the gate if we could just pay the three-euro fee and pop in for a few minutes--and he said yes! We descended into this ghostly, cavernous space, with walls that looked worn smooth by simple erosion but were in fact carved by manual labor. We had the place to ourselves for ten minutes. As we hurried back to the exit, the first tour group was entering, and the cacophony produced by all those voices was surprising. We really got a treat in being able to visit it in silence. The acoustics were tremendous--Denise sang for us briefly, and it was magical.
That morning we explored the cave churches (chiese rupestre) and cave dwellings of Matera, learning about its incredible history. After World War II, the living conditions of Matera was branded "the national shame of Italy", and the government eventually built a brand-new town, Martella, and forced its 18k residents to leave, condemning the entire city. Fast-forward a few decades, and Matera has become a tourist mecca. It was even announced as EU Capital of Culture for 2019 the day before we arrived!
That afternoon we went to a town called Canosa di Puglia, where we met Renato, "the man with the keys." Literally--this little satyr of a man had a massive ring of keys at his built, which opened seemingly every archaeological site in this town. It was one of the differences we saw in the south, terms of organizing access to cultural sites; since there's no money to keep these places open all the time, visiting tends to be by guides only, on appointment. The plus side is that the guides are local, well-informed, and extremely proud of their heritage. The two highlights were a 2nd-century BCE tomb chamber, underneath a modern apartment complex, with surviving frescoes above the temple-front entrance, and the medieval Baptistery, which was built over Roman-era ruins. The Canosian tribe sided with the Romans against Hannibal, and fought with them at Cannae; they managed to capture some Carthiginians despite the defeat, and ritually executed them back home as a sign of friendship to Rome. Diplomacy! The skeletons--far too tall to be ancient Italic people--are visible in the excavated holes inside the baptistery.
After a fairly exhausting day, our destination was the seaside city of Trani, where our hotel was vast in scale, if somewhat tired in furnishings. Our bathroom was the size of my AAR bedroom, so large it was kind of unsettling, because it was all empty space! No bathtub, and a regulation-size shower, and then emptiness. Still, the hot shower before dinner was much appreciated. Our final group meal was at a place called Locanda dei Quattro Ducati, and it was divine. It also was largely fish, but this time I went for it, and was not disappointed! One of the appetizers was riso da venere (black local rice) with a cream that turned out to be smoked salmon aioli. Now, typically if you told me "rice with fish sauce" I would run away, but it was subtle and perfectly flavored. We entertained ourselves at the table with a game that everyone has been playing: casting people with their opposite-gender Hollywood doppleganger. I was given Mark Ruffalo, which pleased me thoroughly!
On our last morning, Monday, we toured Trani's medieval sites, and in particular some of its synagogues, which survived because they were converted into Christian churches. At the Duomo, I managed to muster enough of my Italian (and the polite subjunctive phrase "se fosse possibile..." learned from Carla) to request that the rector allow Nathan and I onto the altar to photograph a medieval mosaic of Alexander the Great. Win! We climbed the belltower afterward, and enjoyed the spectacular view over the ocean. I spent a pleasant half-hour reading Il Gattopardo on the stone benches on the wall that lines the public park, which stretches for a mile or so down the coastal side of the city.
Our very last site visit was Castel del Monte, an odd, unfinished octagonal fortress crowning one of the tallest hills in the region, which may have belonged to Frederick II, a famous medieval ruler. The interior was nothing special, but outside, the view over the surrounding countryside was magnificent. I sat in the grass for a while, soaking up the fairly weak sun that day, and there was a brief period, maybe just 5 minutes, when there was...silence. No sounds of voices, no crunching gravel, no breeze, just near-total quiet and the incredible view. It was a Wordsworth-ian moment, broken shortly thereafter by the two teenagers who were desporting themselves on the hillside not far away.
It was a great experience. The strength of the light in the south, the great beauty of the countryside--so different from what I've seen in Lazio, in Tuscany, and in the Veneto...I look forward to going back. Carla and I might go to Matera, in fact, in honor of her birthday when both us get back in January. No caves, though. Absolutely no caves.
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