So much water so close to home (Bari)

The rain that has been tracking us south finally caught up with us around 5:30am in the form of a massive thunderstorm. Thunder and lightning, very, very frightening. Well, not so much frightening as extremely loud. It actually rivalled the emptying of the hotel's bottle bin at 4:30am. That would have woken the dead. Still, it was pleasant laying in bed, listening to the rain as the lightning crackled through the sky before the thunder rumbled.

Yesterday was such a big day there were things that I forgot to mention. First, Adriano was the consummate guide. If you are down this way WithLocals is the tour company.

Second, Bari has a 'lover's arch', a bridge built across a laneway between two houses. It is quite an unusual feature and the legend surrounding it is akin to Romeo and Juliette. The arch, or wonder bridge, was supposedly constructed in one night to allow the passage of the lovers from one house to the other. Today it is only the romantics who subscribe to the theory. Otherwise it was built by the rich Milanese people who lived on either side of the lane.

The Lover's Arch.

Third, you know my hatred of tour groups, dear reader, even accepting that sometimes they are a necessary evil. However, there is a limit. In the Cathedral yesterday there was a group, I assume from the ship that is in port, that numbered well over 50 people. Imagine the issues a group that size creates in an old town with narrow labyrinthine laneways that are supposed to accommodate people on foot as well as the locals on motor scooters. Chaos.

Finally, I applied for a refund from Trenitalia because our train arrived 50 minutes late. they kept making the announcement about compensation, so I thought, why not. I expected nothing beyond recognition of my application. Surprise. I received a 25% refund, €32,95. I have to return to Italy to use it, but hey, we were coming back next year anyway.

Today, breakfast was at the hotel and the rain had stopped by the time we were due to head out to the Palazzo dell'Acquadotto, the Cathedral of Water or the headquarters of Puglia's waterboard, to draw an Australian equivalent. Its origins date back to the original plan to bring water to Puglia. The name Puglia means 'dry land'. 

Need a smaller lens to get the whole building.

We actually wanted to do the tour because of the architectural descriptions we had read about the building being designed, built and decorated to celebrate all things aqua. In fact it is only one of two buildings in the world dedicated to water. It was the first building in Puglia to be connected to running water - as recently as 1934!

When we were trying to book our tour, we couldn't work out why the site was asking us to book an appointment with someone until we worked out that Monday to Friday, this is the waterboard offices so you go there if you have an issue or need something related to your water supply.

The marble staircase.

Therefore tours only happen on the weekends and are limited to 20 people. Anyway, we managed to book the last 2 tickets today at 11am; a leisurely 20 minute stroll into the Murat district away from the old town. The only snag was the tours are only conducted in Italian.

An insurmountable problem you think? Not at all. No, our 4 weeks in Italy have not miraculously resulted in us becoming fluent speakers; aside from ordering caffé or birra. We are however, the proud owners of ear buds that, when connected to the translation app on my iPhone, simultaneously translate, both orally and in text, whatever language is being spoken. Well, not an unlimited number of languages but Italian is certainly in the repertoire. So, one bud each was the plan.

Water motifs everywhere.

We were uncertain about the weather today as the weather app said, like yesterday, that umbrellas would be needed. We headed out to the Murat and wandered through the clearly French influenced streets to the Palazzo, arriving with 5 minutes to spare.

People were milling around in the front foyer and we walked up to the official to show our tour tickets to be told it was not necessary and to just wait. Meanwhile, we observed various examples of how this has become known as the water cathedral - wall decorations, floor mosaics, light fittings, door handles - everything reflected something to do with water. The attention to detail was astonishing.

Snakes on the downpipes.

Then people from the previous tour descended the staircase and our guide appeared from no where. She began to tick off names from a paper list until she came to us - Apologies but the tour is only in Italian. No worries said we and indicated our ear buds and phone. She was a little surprised but launched into her opening spiel in the foyer, outlining the focus of the tour and the floors we would access - only ground, one and two since the other floors are offices for the waterboard workers.

The tree of life.

Our ear buds were working a treat except that there are only 2 choices of English - UK which is almost bordering on a Cockney accent and US which we were clearly not having. Anyway, Jayne held the phone and stayed relatively close by the guide to pick up the commentary and we heard that the tour would not only focus on the building and its furniture, but more importantly on the project that was conceived to bring underground water via aqueducts to Puglia.

Then we were off across the street to consider the grand exterior of the building and its features before heading back inside to the ground floor courtyard and then up to floor one to the museum exhibits and photos that chronicle the inception of the 'utopian' project that no one believed could become reality and the steps that saw it realised in the 20th century, under the patronage of Victorio Emanuele II.

Amphora in the window.

Basically on the surface, Puglia seems dry but in reality, it lies on top of a network of underground water sources that needed to be brought to the surface using pipes and aqueduct systems that relied on the force of gravity to move the water to where it was needed. 

Water themed inlays in the furniture.

The building contains the general offices along with those of the president of the waterboard and its members who meet there to control all things water in Puglia. It also contains living quarters for important water people and their families and guests, although the beds did not look comfortable and the rooms were stiflingly hot on a relatively cool day. It wouldn't have been much more than 20°C.

Waves for door handles.

Everything, and I mean everything, is designed to reflect the core business, including the furniture, the frescoes, the windows, the light fittings, the floor ...

In the stairwell.

Anyway, the building lived up to the hype we had read about and the ear buds are a game changer. We thanked the tour guide after the tour was concluded and she was clearly delighted by our use of technology to access her commentary. A fabulous investment which we will definitely continue to use - not sure if its repertoire includes Egyptian for our Cairo/Nile leg.

On the floor.

There were really only one or two last things to check off Jayne's list, aside from the day trips which the weather has ruled out. One was the witches' arch. The Masciare were figures from Bari Vecchia who, legend says, were not proper witches. They were 'ordinary women' who went about their daily lives but at night rubbed special oil into their bodies to transform themselves into black cats, after which they would gather under the arch to perform nocturnal rites (Not sure about what, use your imagination. On second thought don't). Anyway, the locals still have a script they say if they come across a black cat, to protect themselves from the evil eye.

It was complex getting to the arch. Jayne's paper map has icons plastered all over it which makes guess work as relevant as map reading skills. We combined that with my iPhone map and found a local brewer that we saw yesterday near the lover's arch. Clearly that was a message. Beer o'clock at Birrificio Svevo. We had a chat with the owner and settled down for a Bari beer and some olives. Our timing was impeccable. We were comfortable when people arrived form everywhere. No outside tables vacant.

We crossed referenced our maps as we enjoyed our beer and were certain we could find the witches arch. As it was nearing time to leave, a couple arrived with a baby in a pram, clearly looking for an outside table. I signalled to them that we were leaving and we cleared our table and went inside to pay. They were most grateful and I understand why, it was very hot inside.

Eventually we found the witches arch, unspectacular as it is. But we found it. Then it was back to the hotel to see if the weather really was going to close in.

Not a witch or a black cat in sight.

Remarkably, it didn't, so we decided a walk along the Lungomare, this time towards the Bread and Tomato Beach would be a good way to spend the afternoon. The seats along the promenade were full of locals enjoying the afternoon. There were yachts out on the water, in training, supported by motor boats.

Learning to race.

The walk along the promenade towards the beach is very French. The buildings are French provincial, the lamp posts would not be out of place on a bridge across the Seine. It was easy to forget where we were. It was a lovely stroll and we sat down where the seats stopped and acted like the locals.

Very French.

Today's title is relevant to the palazzo and also to the view across the water. You can choose, dear reader. The Australian story teller, Paul Kelly, penned So much water so close to home. It s a classic from 1989.

There was lightning on the horizon over towards Albania and the clouds behind us looked threatening so it was time to head back to the hotel for an aperitvo before deciding on tonight's dinner venue.

Despite threatening all day, the rain held off and we ventured down towards the city centre for dinner at a restaurant recommended by Adriano, La Baresana. It's a pizza and pasta place, no surprise there. It opens at 7:30pm and, being unable to book unless you phoned, we arrived at 7:25pm with a mass of locals and secured a table on the corso under one the large umbrellas.

Orders were quickly taken and drinks arrived and the queue to get a table grew longer. Some people gave up. More tables were procured from inside and set up away from the shelter. Fortunately for the people seated there it did not rain. The pizzas were excellent, not quite Napoli or Romano, but somewhere in between.

We made it back to the hotel to discover chocolates on our pillows. A nice touch. It is supposed to rain most of tonight and into tomorrow. We shall see.

Alla prossima.

All the Single Ladies (Bari)

Today, dear reader, we have a walking food tour of Bari. I booked it through the same company that gave us the Bologna lecturing guide. We shall see what transpires.

Unusually our hotel package includes breakfast. Normally, I would not waste the money on a hotel breakfast. Who needs cold soggy bacon, bad coffee and a toaster that can't live up to it's name? Not us, so we approached the breakfast room with low expectations. They were dashed immediately. Excellent breads and pastries, proper coffee, a selection of cereals ... who knew? Well done, Mövenpick.

Our tour wasn't commencing until 1pm and the sky couldn't decide whether to be sunny or cloudy; it occasionally threatened rain as we ventured out explore part of the old city. 

Captain Cook or Piccinni?

We set out from our hotel, about 500m from the Teatro Margherita. It stands majestically at the end of the street, a full stop before the water and the fish market.

Teatro Margherita.

Tourist information sits at the beginning of Piazza del Ferrarese across the road from the theatre so Jayne dropped in to procure a better map than the one supplied by the hotel. Apparently the theatre was originally built on stilts in the water because the government of the day had decreed there could only be on theatre built "on public land" and Teatro Petruzzelli already had that sown up.

Behind the theatre, across the water, is the fish market, but not as you would expect. It is a long sheltered  area built near where the fishing boats, not trawlers, moor. The local fisherman bring their daily catch up to the shelter and sell it. You can also buy oysters and urchins, opened in front of you and sold with a squeeze of lemon.

The fish market. Open air. Good move.

Possibly the most interesting or disturbing sight, you decide, was one old fisherman slapping his octopus. No, dear reader, that is not a euphemism for ... anyway, much seafood is eaten crudo in Bari and octopus needs to be tenderised. That is accomplished by smacking it on a stone slab, which was being carried out with great gusto. It was clearly thirsty work as well because someone offered him a beer as he was working. In fact, as they sold out of their catch, all the fishermen were gathering for a chat and a beer at 10:30am. Well, that would be knock off time if your day started at about 3am.

It's up.

And down.

Rest, rinse, repeat.

Returning to the promenade, we turned away from the main beach, Pane e Pomodoro, (funny name, eh?) to commence a circumnavigation of the old town. The old town was built by the Normans and the new town by the French. One is a labyrinth, the other an ordered chess board.

We walked towards the main dock and the car ferry that could have been heading across the Adriatic to Albania, Croatia, Greece, or up the coast to Venice. I noted the number coaches parked in the port bays. Sad face. Lots of tour groups.

This is an installation. It looks like a Cathedral from a distance.

The stone bridge outside the Castello Svevo di Bari was the meeting point for our tour. It was all of 5 minutes walk from the hotel. Across the way from the castle is the Strada del Oriecchiette where all the ladies make the semolina based, ear-shaped pasta at tables set up in the street, outside their homes. The original pasta is small, but there is now a large size as well. You can also purchase it in different colours, just for tourists. It is a narrow street lined by the oriecchiette makers and tour groups.

The castle. A former Norman fort.

We hurried through, knowing this would be on our list later in the day and found the San Domenico church. Never one to walk past a church ( I said that with a straight face), we popped inside for a couple of photos. There are many, many churches and chapels in Bari, not all of them open. Some without walls or a roof. More on that later.

Oriecchette street. Alleyway really.

San Domenico had a chandelier. Unusual.

The next trick for the day was to locate the church with the rose window that shines the sun on the rose mosaic on the floor of the church at 5pm on June 21, every year. It's a solstice thing. Another example of a pagan ritual being christianised. You would think that an easy task, dear reader, but no. The church has many names. Google maps unerringly directed us to Cattedrale di San Sabino, however the paper map read Cattedrale di Santa Maria Assunta. The sign outside the church actually had two other names, one dedicated to the Archangel Michael and I can't remember the other.

The rose window.

The floor mosaic of the rose window.

Anyway, tickets secured, imagine paying to go to church, we ventured inside, once again to be mistaken for Italians until I said Australian and the other guide relayed the information in English. We visited the crypt first because mass was about to start in there in 10 minutes. It was, as you would expect, beautiful with low ceilings, decorated arches, an ornate altar and a side altar with bones, specifically skulls. The altar on the opposite side of the crypt contained the mummified body of Saint Columba from the 3rd century. She was Spanish, a virgin (of course she was, doesn't the Catholic church love a virgin?) and martyred by decapitation. Her head looked like it was attached when I saw her. Sorry, no photo, the glass case kept flaring in the shots but you can google her if you are interested.

The crypt.

That was enough for our morning and we headed home briefly before meeting our guide at the castle. Adriano was everything you would want from a guide. He was friendly, knowledgeable and answered all of our questions as well as supplying ideas on how to spend our next two days and where to eat.

As expected, we commenced our tour with the oriecchiette ladies, most of whom it appeared, know Adriano. There were a lot of ciaos and conversations along the way as he explained the recipe, the production technique, deftly demonstrated with a single sharp knife, and the cooking procedure of the different sizes. Not only are the coloured ones for tourists but so are the big ones - locals prefer the original small size.

Cheers big ears.

The regular oriecchette.

Happily it was noticeably less crowded by now as we wended our way up to the top of the street and back down to a restaurant, opposite our starting point. Here we enjoyed our first taste of Bari, no surprises - oriecchiette with cheese, cherry tomatoes and fresh arugula. The only part of the dish cooked was the pasta. Oh so tasty!

Then we wandered off to see more of Bari Vecchia's tiny streets with its 6,000 inhabitants, its piazzas, its family altars on numerous buildings, its washing hanging on lines, covered by plastic sheets, in case of rain. It may be a tourist destination but it is maintaining its sense of community and lifestyle in spite of the influx.

The doorway to the salumeria.

Next taste stop was a restaurant/delicatessen where no tables were free but suddenly a table and three chairs were set up to accommodate us while we sampled an antipasto plate. Clearly, it's not what you know ... Anyway, this stop included three types of cheese, a magnificent creamy burrata, a pecorino and a ricotta, drizzled with fig syrup. There were also capocollo (cured meat), olives, taralli rings, fried fava beans (no liver or chianti) and croutons with sundried tomatoes - all accompanied by a Nero di Troia for me and a Bombino Rosé for Jayne. Wow! And this was only stop number 2 ...

We returned briefly to the outside of Cattedrale San Sabino before our next food stop - panini with 3 types crudo fish, tuna, swordfish and salmon with pepitas and sundried tomoatoes. Fresh, zingy and tasty.

A typical laneway.

After that, we headed to the Basilica San Nicola, the patron saint of Bari who has many claims to fame including being revered by both the Roman and Orthodox Catholic church (he started out life in Turkey), looking after fishermen, single ladies and children - yes, he is the Saint Nic who gave us Santa Claus. 

The single ladies pillar.

The pillar is called the miraculous column of Bari. Legend has it that if a single woman circled the column three times she would be married within a year. Many people attempted to souvenir pieces of the column so it had to be encased for its protection. The single ladies of today who desire a husband are no longer able to circle the column and have resorted to writing messages that are pushed through the metal bars.

And so we are at today's title, All the Single Ladies by Beyoncé. Too obvious?

The ceiling has the wow factor.

Anyway, San Nicola's bones have been moved around several times between Bari and Turkey but they now rest under the altar of the basilica and happily, and unusually for us, his feast day is December 6, not while we are here.

The crypt where the bones are kept.

The basilica's diverse interior reflects the domination of the city by various groups including the Normans and the Spanish and it also has several not square arches that were added after an earthquake in the 1500s to stabilise the roof.

Not quite straight.

After the basilica, we ventured to another iconic church, Santa Maria del Buon Consiglio, the church without walls or a ceiling, just columns and a mosaic floor, partly demolished to make way for urban improvements but then preserved and never fully reconstructed. It is listed as a monument on the map of Bari. If you didn't know it was once a church you would not recognise it as one.

Not a parishioner in sight.

Our final two tastings were of local fruits, fresh and perfect and then Tette della Monarche, also known as Nun's breasts, light fluffy sponge cakes filled with chantilly cream. There is much that could be written here, but discretion is best. No nun jokes.

In between the last two courses we walked part of the city wall, behind the Cathedral, looking across to where we had ventured in the morning. Then it was down to the two major piazzas that adjoin each other. After a three hour meander, not needing dinner, we bid a fond farewell to Adriano, who promised to email me more information tomorrow.

Towards Bread and Tomato Beach.

As the clouds tried very hard to rain we walked back down Victor Emanuelle II to the hotel. The marble footpaths can be slippery in this weather, but we made it without issue. The forecast for the next two days is not looking promising, but we've had excellent weather throughout the trip. No complaints. It is what it is and we will deal with it.

No dinner required tonight, just some wine.

Alla prossima.

Volare (Bologna - Bari)

It rained over night and a misty drizzle was hanging around when we got out of bed.  Not that it mattered greatly because today was a transit day. A big transit day. We had a 9:45am Frecciarossa from Bologna Centrale to Bari. A journey of 6 hours 15 minutes if the train is on time. Not expecting that to happen. The good news was that it was a direct trip. No change required.

There are two photos from today's travels, so I have dropped in some other random shots from this trip.

I checked our tickets and noted interesting seat numbers so, dear reader, I thought I'd check. We had tickets 1A and 1B in Coach 1. According to the Man in Seat 61, seat 1B did not exist. I went to a general Google search which confirmed there is no seat 1B. An interesting beginning to the day.

We were packed and ready to go by 9am and Jayne thought we should check at the Freccia desk. I just assumed there had been a change of trains with a different seat configuration. We were on the money but Jayne's decision to query the seats proved a winner. They had changed the scheduled train and our seats had been reallocated. A pity no-one had bothered to contact us. We were now in Coach 4 in seats 9A and 10B.

The cross at the end of the portico pilgrimage.

While we were waiting to speak to a Freccia person, our platform moved from 6 to 4. No real issue - they do that all the time. Oh, and the train was now 10 minutes late. And the lift to the concourse was broken which meant lugging the suit cases down the stairs. But hey, it's a transit day.

Happily the lift from the concourse to Platform 4 was functioning and we found a place to wait. Soon after we were approached by an American woman to see if we were also on the 8803 and to ensure she was waiting at the right place.

The train arrived and Coach 4 was completely empty. I placed our bags in the overhead rack because we were so far from the end of the carriage where the main luggage store was situated. We made ourselves comfortable and then I looked around and realised we were not in the correct seats. In fact 9A and 10B were in a group of four seats and were facing each other at a diagonal. We spoke to an attendant who was in a rush and really didn't want to know, but said, basically, sit there and see what happens.

Ravenna.

We couldn't leave until a connecting train arrived. Two men turned up and looked at us in our seats. It appeared that they were supposed to occupy both the seats we were in. They were unconcerned and sat in the aisle seats. Maybe, we were supposed to be across the aisle in the single seats where we first sat down. Who knows.

The train left Bologna 30 minutes late and that could only extend as the day progresses. Aside from that, it was an uneventful trip. Just very long. Even the Business Class seats on the Freccia get uncomfortable after a couple of hours. We arrived in Bari 51 minutes after the scheduled time.

Somewhere between Pescara and Bari, Jayne informed me that the person who wrote Volare was from Bari. To which I replied "oh, oh". I'm so funny. Jayne said she was glad I amused myself which is rich from someone who laughs at her own jokes before she delivers the punchline.

Anyway, Volare was written by Domenico Mudugno but I have linked the Dean Martin version. If you don't get my joke you need to listen to the song.

The lift on the platform to the corso worked. A good start. The one from the corso to the street was hit and miss. It was too hot and humid to stay in for long in the forlorn hope that it would kick into life. It was the stairs once again.

The Bologna twin towers with electricity cables removed.

The rain that had been around us all day, held off long enough for us to walk the 20 minutes to our hotel, Mövenpick. Although we were hampered by people parking across the pedestrian footpath and crossing access. Clearly that is the best place to park - it's a thing in Bari it seems.

Ignorant cogliona.

We can see a glimpse of the old city from our balcony, but the rest of the view is not worth reporting. More importantly, we discovered there is no Aldi, so wine will be sourced from COOP. There are worse things. Wine, chips and chocolate acquired, we were on a roll. 

The bell tower of the Cathedral.

Our welcome drinks were, well, most welcome. We opted for a local red wine, a Primitivo. The lady who served us was most generous with the pour and unlike the 'welcome drinks' at Accor in Australia, it was good quality wine.

Jayne found an osteria nearby, but I was unable to book online. After the welcome drinks in the bar, we walked the couple of blocks to turn up at 7pm when the restaurant opened. Ok people, we are in the south now, the real Italy, the crowds have gone home.

Sunrise in Lucca.

Cool is not being the first at the door, is it? Ok. We were not cool. They were still setting up and tossed us a couple of menus to peruse while our table was sorted. This place was highly rated, and yet, there seemed to be some sort of apartheid system - some people walked straight into the second room. Not us, nor the Americans at the other table and not the Germans who spoke Italian. The United Nations were in the first room.

Whatever. The food was excellent. I had roasted octopus (cheers Gary if you're reading this) and Jayne had a delectable seafood pasta dish that would be enough for both of us any week night. The wine was Negroamaro, a tad sweet for us and I'm not sure it will be purchased again anytime soon (aside from the bottle in the stash at the hotel).

We were both grateful to see the bed after a long day, although as transit days go, once again, it was pretty smooth.

Alla prossima

 

Highway to Hell/Stairway to Heaven (Bologna & Portico di San Luca)

As usual, my dear reader, a long day is followed by a more relaxed one. Or as the Italians say, a fat Pope follows a skinny Pope. I am not commenting on Francis or Leo btw. 

After spending 12 hours away from the beautiful Bologna yesterday, we decided to stay close to home today to revisit some sites that we were not able to see completely and check out some which we hadn't managed to prioritise.

First stop today was the Mercato delle Herbe, a market on the opposite side of the Piazza Maggiore to the other mercato we visited a few days ago. I had high hopes of fresh food and vegetables. While my hopes weren't dashed, they weren't quite met either. The market was smaller than I expected. True, there were many stalls selling fruit and veg but only one shop for pasta, bakery and cheese. There were a few stores that were the equivalent to a delicatessen at home and also a good fishmonger.

Mercato delle Herbe.

Sadly, no espresso. We left through the back door expecting something different, but no. There were a few different providores, mainly butchers, but no cafés. We had passed some on Via Rizzoli and walked back towards them, but they were crowded or had no place to sit. Back to Piazza Maggiore for a coffee and pastry in the shade with the locals, (the tourists were all on the other side of the café, baking in the sun), with a view of the statue of Nettuno.

Neptune.

In our down time when planning yesterday's excursion to Ravenna, we also looked in the opposite direction at Modena, the home of balsamic vinegar. The problem we faced, in trying to avoid an organised tour, was the Balsamic Houses were well away from the railway station. Then I found that the Giusti house, the originators of balsamic vinegar, have a tasting room in Bologna. Just off the piazza. Exciting.

So good and so amazing.

The tasting room was less than a 1 minute walk from where we were sitting, so over we went. There was a group of 4 or 5 people in the main area but we were soon welcomed by someone and whisked away to a smaller space to commence our tasting. Libero. Cool.

We were walked through a brief history of the company and how they make the balsamic and the extensive range. Seriously.  Flavoured with truffles, strawberries or figs, aged for 5 years or 25 years, suitable for salads or meat or cheese or used on ice cream. It was mind blowing. And so wonderfully tasty. It was exciting to discover that Giusti balsamic is available in Australia. While there are a number of outlets, mostly online or interstate, if you're in Sydney, David Jones is apparently a stockist.

Our little corner.

Our next port of call was the Basilica San Pietro that we had attempted to visit previously. We had originally waited for the opening time and the doors had remained closed. Today the doors were open. Another spectacular church. This time featuring Lombardi's version of the Lamentation over the dead Christ. If you have attended closely to our travels, dear reader, you will have seen the wailing Marys by Niccolò; this is Lombardi's version some 70 years or so later. I'm no art critic, you decide which is the better.

Lombardi's version.

Then it was time to dodge the street canvassers who just wanted us to sign a petition to say we are against drugs. Every time we walked past them. Even though they couldn't decide if we were Italian or not. They did ask.

A side altar with optical illusion of size.

With our treasure of Modena balsamic stored away, we headed back to the Palazzo dell'Archiginnasio that we had originally visited with our Bolognese lecturer. The door to the university library had been closed and so we wanted to see this since it had promised so much and we love a great library.

We marvelled at the more relaxed pace and lack of crowds today and headed back to the main piazza to skirt along the basilica, under the porticos and into the university, lined with all the shields of past scholars. Up the stairs and to the door of the lecture hall that houses the library. We were met by the gatekeeper who demanded our ticket which we produced, explaining the library had been closed the day we had originally entered and so we were returning to see what we had missed.

And I haven't removed anyone from this photo.

We were let past and into the hall to go to the door to enter the library ... to find out that the only difference this time was the wooden door was open and we could see through a grill. Inside were vast shelves of ancient texts, row upon row; the smell of the archived wisdom was tantalising ... so near and yet so far. We could only look through the grill. One wonders why the wooden door was shut on the first day?Anyway, glad we weren't required to pay another entry fee for such an underwhelming experience.

I've seen better.

After that, it was back to our hood to do some Aldi shopping (wine time) and head home for some domestic duties in readiness for our departure, day after tomorrow. Interestingly the Aldi footpath had attracted a number of young men that would/could be intimidating for some people, even more so at a later hour. It is easy to see why some European countries are struggling with the concept of migration.

They are very political in Bologna.

Another Nicolò sculpture, in the Piazza Maggiore.

Dinner tonight was the feast from our Mercato shopping expeditions.

Wednesday

Our last full day in Bologna and there is still plenty to do. With an eye on tomorrow and the 6 hour train trip to Bari, I wanted to get in some walking. From our window, visible high on the hill, is the Sanctuary of the Madonna of San Luca. It's a basilica, of course. I'm not sure there is a church in Bologna that hasn't been bestowed that title by one pope or another.

Our destination for today.

This morning, the basilica on the hill glowed in the early sunlight. A welcoming sign I thought, Jayne suggested it was a warning to stay away. The walk to the basilica from our apartment is a little over 5kms. The first half is flat, the second half is not. We set out just after 10am. It was slightly cloudy and cool. Good walking weather. Jayne was only doing this because I had encouraged her. She will say otherwise.

Porticoes as far as the eye can see.

The start of the climb.

The walk through the suburbs was uneventful and soon enough we were at Meloncello, the base of the climb through the longest unbroken system of porticos in the world. It was steep from the outset. Each portico was dedicated in memorium to, I assume, people of significance, or those from wealthy families. Once upon a time, each portico came with a fresco. They were very few and far between today.

Fresco and dedication.

Interspersed every 100 metres or so were 15 chapels dedicated to the rosary. A good reason to rest on the journey to the summit, some 280m above sea level.

One of the chapels

The walk Portico di San Luca is considered to be a Marian pilgrimage. Certainly we saw many people walking to the basilica. There were also many people using it as exercise. The number of people who jogged past us was, at times, disheartening. The road route has been used in many of the grand cycling tours and this year was the stage for the single day cycling classic Giro dell'Emilia. As was evidenced by the pro cycling graffiti on the road. There were plenty of cyclists taking on the hill while we walked under the UNESCO porticoes.

It was Nairo Quintana's final race.

Jayne declared the basilica itself not worth the climb and insisted I find out the number of stairs involved. AccordingGoogle the answer is 489, but she believed there were more. But I walked for the view which was somewhat compromised by haze over Bologna although still impressive. 

Inside the basilica were the usual adornments, lavish side altars, a massive dome with fresco and an elaborate altar. You could also climb the dome but I didn't believe the view would be any further enhanced so opted to stay on the ground.

The view of Bologna.

The Sanctuary.

The Marian icon.

A long shot of the altar.

The walk back to reality was quicker and less strenuous, but the first order of the day would be a celebratory beer. Unbelievably, the first bar that served draught beer and had a vacant table was next door to our apartment. Cruel. The beer was still welcome.

Now that we have our feet back on the ground you will have noticed dear reader that today we have two titles, one selected for me the other for Jayne. I will leave it to you decide who owns which song. Highway to Hell by that well known, overrated Australian band (how many chords?) AC/DC and Stairway to Heaven by true genii of rock, Led Zeppelin. Enjoy.

When we have eaten out in Bologna we have used the restaurant guide left by our host. The first night was an excellent choice, the second was OK, so we are looking for more tonight, Trattoria Valerio. It is in a backstreet not far from the apartment, but the key to this restaurant? They have house wine. Something that has been rare in the places we have visited this trip.

A local trattoria that was booked out. Once again we saw people turned away. The food was lovely. We had a zucchini, tomato and caper entree with olive oil and balsamic. Since it was our last night in Bologna we both had the traditional tortellini in broth. There was dessert, for the first time since we left Matt, some traditional. I had Bolognese hard cake with passito wine. No, it doesn't make a lot of sense. Even after eating it. And it didn't taste of passionfruit. Jayne had zuppa inglese which sounds much better than the English translation.

The house wine was delectable, the people were delightful and it was a 4 minute walk from the apartment. We will be sad to leave tomorrow.

Alla prossima.