Tar and Cement (Lecce - Matera, via Taranto)

And so, dear reader, we arrived at yet another transit day. To date they have all been smooth sailing with none of the dramas that beset us last year. Except for Trenitalia occasionally reallocating our tickets without telling us. A minor challenge, until today.

Matera is not an easy place to get to from Lecce. Trenitalia lists options that include train and bus but these could take all day, literally. On the Catalonia tour last year, someone, let's call him Tim, talked of using FlixBus to get around and claimed it was seamless. That may be so but he wasn't dealing with Italian taxis. Let me explain.

Uber is virtually non-existent in Italy. The government, unlike in Australia, decided to protect the cartel of taxi ownership and keep Uber out. As a compromise, of sorts, there is an Italian Taxis app that you can download. In retrospect I wouldn't bother. It works in a similar way to most ride share apps. Alora, last night I ordered a taxi to take us to the bus terminal rather than drag our bags the 2 km distance from the apartment.

Our bus was scheduled for a 7:30am departure which, during the evening, became 7:40am. I ordered a taxi for 7:00am, which meant a 6am alarm. The App is excellent and allows you to nominate the number of bags you have, what type of car, the language the driver speaks; it is quite expansive. It also requests you wait at the designated place 10-15 minutes prior to your requested pick up time. Ah, the Italians have such a wonderful sense of humour.

Taxi booked, we drifted off to a restless night's sleep which saw us up and about before the alarm and waiting for the taxi at 6:45am. At that time the status was still something like "ride booked" but at 6:50am that became the taxi app equivalent of the spinning wheel of death with "finding you a taxi". Eventually that morphed into "having difficulty sourcing a ride" and finally "ride cancelled".

A random photo to break up the text.

I removed the parameters for the same result. At just after 7am we decided we had no choice but to walk the 2kms. Quickly. Much like the taxi, we were supposed to be waiting for our bus 15 minutes prior to departure. Another joke.

I don't really need to describe the bag drag, I'm sure you are familiar enough with that sort of experience. Suffice to say that I hate Google as it redirected us down a street that was closed for road works. We did however make the terminal with 10 minutes to spare as the sweat slowly ran down my neck and back. There were plenty of people waiting but not a FlixBus sign anywhere. My jangling nerves were not calmed.

Every time I went to the FlixBus App, it assured me I was at the right place. Then I thought I'd use the "track your journey" feature to see where our bus was. Big, paranoid mistake. It showed our bus was on time when clearly it wasn't and the icon for our bus was on the peripherique, quite a distance away. And I watched as it headed further away towards Brindisi. It appeared as though we had missed the bus. Yet, how was that possible? We were there 10 minutes before scheduled departure. While I was searching for some contact number to talk to a Flix representative, our bus drove into the piazza.

Sighs of relief all round. As everyone rushed to one side of the bus and queued to load their luggage, I walked to other side and stowed our bags, boarded and assumed our seats. Now we could relax - for the moment. Although we were 15 minutes late leaving Lecce.

At 9:00am I received a message from Italian Taxis telling me they were having trouble locating a ride for me. No shit. They'd have trouble locating me if they turned up because I was 10 minutes from Taranto and a full 2 hours after the requested time for pick up.

We arrived in Taranto on time. Disembarked, collected our bags and found a seat to wait for our connecting bus to Matera. It arrived 20 minutes early. Taranto was the beginning of the route, first stop Matera and then many stops to Rome airport.

The expanse of asphalt and concrete that is Taranto bus interchange.

I messaged our host as we left Taranto on time. Magically she replied that her husband would pick us up at the bus station. Now we could relax into the trip. Uccio was waiting for us in Matera with a hand made sign and in 10 minutes we had negotiated the traffic and entered the Sassi where we are spending the next 4 nights.

The view from the balcony.

The house is amazing although we need to negotiate many steps to get to it. It has two bedrooms, a lounge area, bathroom with washing machine and a balcony overlooking other parts of the Sassi. There was a bottle of prosecco in the fridge, snacks and cakes and tea bags ... everything you could require. And we were picked up so we didn't have to do a second 2km walk with the bags.

Looking the other direction from the balcony.

The afternoon was spent getting set up, making a dinner reservation at a restaurant all of 40 metres away, wandering the tourist strip and pausing for some authentic Materan food and a birra alla spina. The mattonella, ham and cheese in puff pastry is highly recommended and the panzerotto was good too. The most important action of the afternoon? Finding a short cut that circumvented some of those steep, narrow stairs.

The mattonella and panzerotto were good too.

The doorway some exasperating influencer posed today.

We enjoyed the prosecco on the balcony as the sun dipped behind the wall of houses opposite us, being serenaded all the while. I'm guessing at this point, but I believe there is a bar in one of the streets below us. We have heard the entire repertoire more than once and day one is not over. There were the usual standards to cater to a particular audience of age and nationality: My Way, Falling in Love with You, That's Amore, a couple of Beatles numbers and of course, Volare (oh-oh, sorry, I couldn't help it). He is currently doing another Lennon and McCartney number made popular by Mary Hopkins, Those were the Days.

Yet, none of those made the title for today. Tar and Cement particularly captured Jayne's attention. I'm sure she has it on a compilation from the '60s but she denies this. Anyway, we tracked it down, Tar and Cement by Verdelle Smith from 1966. Enjoy, or not. The stone walls ensure the sound carries everywhere. I hope they have an early night.

Moving on, it turned out that our serenader was not at bar down in the valley below, but was ensconced in a corner of the premier viewing platform of the Sassi. I discovered this because Jayne had regaled me with information about the best time to take photos, the blue time, that space just after sunset. Never one to miss a photo opportunity, I set out, just before sunset and that is how I discovered the viewing area and the minstrel.

Worth it?

It was too crowded for me so I grabbed a quick shot and moved on. It was also quite cold and I was still in shorts and a T. Back at the house, I suggested Jayne might wish to put on a thermal, not wishing a repeat of dinner a few nights ago, and not knowing if the restaurant had indoor seating.

I preferred my view.

Not to fear, the restaurant had a beautiful outdoor section and a major series of rooms dug into the side of the hill. Like, really, I should have picked that, this is the area of the cave dwellers. La Grotta Nei Sassi, recommended by our hosts, delivered a most delicious dinner. We tried some local dishes, cruschi peppers - dried capsicum, you eat them like chips. Also some Matera bread. Crusty and yum.

Nice and cosy inside.

Maybe one day we'll eat like an Italian and move beyond a starter and a 1st course, but not tonight. The food was excellent and the wine just as good. Although we did order a Primitivo which is an Apuglian wine, not a Basilicata wine. Noted. Won't happen again.

Then we popped around to the viewing area for a night shot of the Sassi.

The night view from 'the spot'.

Inside the shelter ... no idea.

A close up of the above. No comment.

That was a big day.

Alla prossima.

Dig, Lazarus, Dig (Bari and Lecce)

Our last full day in Bari was marred by the weather, dear reader. It was windy, and chilly - for here; the locals were all wearing coats and jumpers. Squalls of rain swept in intermittently and without much warning. It was not going to be a day to stray far from the hotel.

In itself, that was ok because we had done most of the things on our list. The only outstanding item was the opera house, Teatro Petruzzelli, but in all honesty I wasn't that keen. We did La Scala in Milano last month and we've seen houses of opera in Paris, Barcelona, Oslo, Vienna and Sydney of course. The idea of turning up in the hope of getting a ticket for the only time slot of the day in this weather, with a couple of cruise ships in port ... yeah, nah.

Ok, before I forget, we have crossed the 'beer line'. How to explain ... back in the day, Tasmania had two brewers, Boags and Cascade. There was an invisible line across Tassie and when you crossed it, you changed to the other beer. It appears there is a similar thing in Italy. At some point, we switched from drinking Moretti to Peroni. I mean they're both good and I'm not going to argue the virtues of one over the other.

The only site I wanted to revisit was the "stunning wire mesh installation" of Edoardo Tresoldi. We walked past it on our first day, not really knowing what it was or the story behind it. It is located in the aptly named archaeological precinct San Pietro. And I assumed, incorrectly, that access would be more open and revealing there.

The mesh makes it look blurred.

We walked the 15 minutes to the site, located on the edge of the old town, to find it is still a work in progress, after four years. The piazza side of the site is boarded up the same as it is on the road. There is a series of boards explaining the work and its significance, but no access for a closer look.

It looks like a cathedral from a distance and is not blurry at all. The eye can see through the mesh which creates a clear image. The camera can't adjust like our eyes do. 

A logical conclusion would be that a cathedral stood on the site. But, no. It is on the site of a former hospital that was collateral damage when the Germans bombed a US ship moored in Bari during WW2. I don't think Trump has claimed credit for ending that war. Yet.

Being the intrepid travellers that we are, we walked back into the maze of streets that is the old town and chose streets at random. We ended up back at the castle and then decided to check out the local street markets. It was like a garage sale at your nanna's place. Lots of kitsch from the '70s and objets d'art that no-one ever found a use for, old books, second hand records and hand made jewellery. Nothing to hold my interest for any longer than it took to walk the length of the market.

Not worth the walk.

Back at the hotel, we researched some of the other restaurants recommended by Adriano and prepared a list of things to do in Lecce.

The day ended with a bottle of rosé made from a grape we've not seen in Australia. It is now Jayne's new favourite. And left over pizza from last night's dinner.

Grape variety: bombino.

The locals are very proud of their wines, particularly rosé, so I imagine I will be seeing more of this on the table over the next couple of weeks.

Monday

Another transit day, a relatively short train journey to Lecce, the sworn enemy of all people from Bari. Lecce is sometimes referred to as the Florence of the South because of its baroque architecture.

The day began with probably the best weather we've had. A pity we weren't staying around to enjoy it. Breakfast over, we returned to our room to pack and wait. We had a midday check out and our train didn't depart until 12:45pm. If it was on time. Bahahahahaha.

The view from the breakfast terrazza.

Shortly after 9:30am, we could hear what sounded like a protest rally. A quick internet search revealed it was the striking public transport workers, meeting in the government square not far from our hotel. Their chanting and singing carried very clearly to us. The strike concluded at 12:30pm and we would be on our way by then, but would be sure to stay away from the rally.

Trenitalia continued to defy belief and the train arrived early. I should have become suspicious when we tried to board the train and our door was blocked with serving trolleys on board. Down to the other end of the carriage and we push our bags through to seats 14C and 14D to find ... nothing. They didn't exist. We ventured through to the next carriage to be told to return to our seats. I said they didn't exist, nor did seats 15c and 15D also assigned to two other Australians. The trolley person forced me back into carriage 3 and walked us to one of the attendants who looked at our tickets and said we had been re-assigned. I'd like to re-assign a few Trenitalia workers.

This is the second time this has occurred. I understand changes happen when carriages are switched in and out, but they have our details, they knew there was a problem because we were assigned new seats. Why couldn't they email? Or send a message in the App?

Anyway, we had seats in carriage 2. The trip was uneventful. We arrived in Lecce on time, walked the 20 minutes to our apartment and then had to wait 10 minutes until 3pm because all access was electronic and linked to that magic hour.

There were two other groups of people waiting for their access to be granted and at 3 pm, all doors opened and we were inside a very spacious second floor apartment with a living room, kitchen/dining area, bedroom, bathroom, balcony and a European laundry - with no washing machine in it! Not happy since we specifically seek out apartments with decent showers and washing facilities. We had passed by a laundry off the main foyer on the ground floor but it was being used by the building cleaners to launder linen from vacated apartments. 

Upon sending a message to the apartment guide robot function, the only reference to laundry facilities was this common room - permitted hours of operation: 9:30am to 3:30pm. Pretty rich considering the commercial washing was being done in that time period and there are probably upwards of 15 apartments in this building. Luckily, we are not in dire straits and will probably delay our washing until Matera. When you are on the road for over two months, however, laundry is a thing and we are not impressed.

Anyway, we had less than an hour until we were to meet our guide for a hidden gems and tasting tour of Lecce. We were to do this on the morning of the second day but as we have already found out, arrangements made from Australia can be, and often are, changed. Instead of 10am Tuesday, we headed into the old town for a 4:30pm rendez-vous with Clothilde, our guide.

A fountain outside the Castle of Charles V (from somewhere).

On the walk from our apartment into the old town, we had to make a slight detour as one of the roads has been entirely dug up. It looked like typical roadworks, until I noticed one of the workers using a trowel, not a bulldozer, to do the excavation work! I mean over-employment is a thing, but that is ludicrous. Interesting, but no time to stop and ponder this strange observation. 

Our initial walk into Lecce revealed a town uniformly built out of a very light coloured sandstone that gives a golden glow to the place in the late afternoon sun. (Best viewed in the early morning and late afternoon when the light is softest). There were still tour groups around as we found ourselves in one of the main squares, en route to our meeting place, outside the Basilica of Santa Croce.

What? No Lions?

Immediately, as we entered the piazza, in front of us was the Roman amphitheatre, enclosed in the middle of the square, going down below street level. A little further along was another smaller excavation site with a number of different levels of ruins revealed. 

Towards the end of our tour, Clotilde actually explained that the ruins had all been accidentally uncovered when various development works were being carried out. The amphitheatre brought a building project to an end and in fact, only half of the colosseum (and it was a colosseum with massive arches, well before the one in Rome) has been unearthed because the rest lies under multiple buildings around the piazza and into the dug up street that we had passed. Again they had decided to do some improvements and found the other end of the amphitheatre - hence the trowel. Assume that street is not reopening anytime soon. 

Expect the unexpected. Like the Spanish Inquisition.

The other fenced off ruins were supposed to reveal more of the amphitheatre but instead uncovered layers of buildings going back to Norman and Byzantine eras, all built on top of each other. Oops. Gives a whole new meaning to "Dial before you dig."

Anyway, we made our way past the excavations, through the narrow streets to the "Queen of Lecce Baroque" as our guide labelled Basilica Santa Croce at the commencement of the tour. The façade is so ornate, you could stand to look at it for 10 minutes and not take in all the detail that has been worked into the exterior. It is overwhelming in its intricacy and we had not looked inside. That will happen in the days to follow.

It is too big to capture in one photo.

With the doors.

The levels of the building have been added over time and the progress has been date stamped and  carved into the decorations. Because it is so busy, you need to know where to look though to see these details. 

A short look at the Prefecture next door gave us an inkling into the recurring theme of religious palaces being acquired as public buildings - convents, monasteries, seminaries all now housing the department of justice, the prefecture etc. All of these grand buildings are adjacent to various churches that adorn the old city, all of them testaments to the Lecce Baroque style. In his time Napoleon influenced these changes.

As part of the tour, we actually only went inside one of the many churches, Chiesa di Sant'Irene. This church has multiple side altars that again capture the intricacies of this particular style with depictions of fruit, flowers, ornate spiralling columns, and creatures, all contributing to a complex symbolism and story telling of both Christianity and the history of this ancient town.

A side altar.

Another one. Not too busy?

Lecce was in fact originally called Lupiae by the Romans and the city's emblem is a she wolf under an oak tree, many of which are planted around the old town. The wolf features frequently as does Saint Oronzo, who, during the plague which devastated populations across Europe, is credited with the miracle  that allowed Lecce, Ostuni and Brindisi to be spared. Oronzo features in most churches as well as being captured in bronze (twice) in the main piazza.

Lecce is a city of artisans of all types, jewellers, painters, iron workers, tailors, designers, potters but the standout craft is papier mâché. No, I'm not talking about the sort of stuff you produced in primary school art classes (ah, the memories, all bad). This is serious business with multiple layers contributing to an art form that is sold in multiple shops but also adorns most streets and features heavily in church interiors. This also an inter-generational endeavour, passed down through families. The accident of birth can be cruel.

Paper mache (in Australia).

Papier mâché (in France).

Of course, our tour took us to the Piazza del Duomo and the Cattedrale of Maria Santissima Assunta with its bell tower, 73 metres, the highest point in the town. This was a spectacle of Baroque buildings on all four sides of the square, beautiful in the twilight but magically transformed when the lights suddenly came on while we were looking at the cathedral. The ethereal quality was even more present since we were almost by ourselves after the departure of the day tripper groups (and some swift editing work of the photos).

The Cathedral, actually a side entrance.

The bell tower.

The Bishop's house.

The Cathedral in less flattering light.

To cap off this special experience, we were then led over to a shop on the piazza, run by the most joyful man, who plied us with rosé and then introduced us to ... limoncello balls!!!! OMG - imagine jaffas but made of limoncello. But better. There were variants with orange and chocolate but bags of these are coming home with us. (Well that is the theory, if they don't arrive, forget you ever read this).

Soon we were back in the main piazza, having criss-crossed the old town and, as the rain very lightly started to fall, it was time to bid Clotilde a fond farewell after 3 wonderful hours of introduction to her city. It's now over to us to explore for ourselves with a context and a history behind this ancient town.

On our way home, we felt we needed to eat some dinner but the place Clotilde had recommended was closed on Mondays. We went to the place next door because it was open and it was raining. The less said about that experience the better.

Oh, the title? I'm too tired to explain, surely you get it, dear reader. Here is the link for Dig, Lazarus, Dig! by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds.

Home was only minutes away in the light drizzle. Bed was welcome.

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

 

None shall pass (Cinque Terre)

Part of the reason we had to catch the train.

We both struggled to get out of bed this morning after another disrupted, hot night. It's our last day in Cinque Terre and we are going to visit Manarola. The only town we won't have been to is Corniglia. The 377 steps up to the town from the railway station have effectively ruled it out. We would have happily walked to Manarola - less than a kilometre from Riomaggiore, but the Via Dell'Amore is part of the Azzurre Sentiere that has succumbed to nature and, to quote Aesop Rock, "None shall pass!" (I apologise for the white-boy hip hop, particularly since he misquoted Gandalf anyway).

The usual breakfast, double espresso, OJ and pastry helped get us going. The ticket machine at the station was a possible hurdle. There are only two machines and they are very slow and perhaps not so easy to operate because the queues the other day were monumental. I thought I'd purchase tickets online but the site would not allow me to buy tickets for the morning, so the machines it would be.

Predictably there was a line up at both machines. Equally predictably we had only 10 minutes to catch our train and the next one was a 30 minute wait. The machines are slow because they want to talk to you, to warn you about pick pockets, to ask you to verify your selection and they offer a ticket for one way only and you need to repeat the entire process to get a return ticket. These would not be tolerated on the Metro, the Tube, the New York subway, or even Redfern station ...

The happy owners of two tickets each, we ran down the tunnel to the platform as the train was arriving. I tried to validate the tickets before I got on board, and think I managed to validate two out of four, but this could wait until Manarola. Thankfully the train was a little late - TrenItalia, late, who'd have thought it? Well, it worked in our favour today.

Manarola, a postcard photo

Looking towards the harbour

As I said, Manarola is less than a kilometre from Riomaggiore but since the track is closed, the only access is by water ferry or train. I suppose you could follow the road up and over the mountain but that would be far more than a kilometre and would take a lot more energy than the train.

Manarola is similar to Riomaggiore in that it is carved into the side of the mountain, it has a small harbour and many colourful buildings. There were the usual tourist stores selling over-priced merchandise, bars, restaurants and of course, a church and tower. It appeared to as that it was like the other towns we visited yesterday, far more crowded than Riomaggiore. There were the usual, ubiquitous tour groups, slavishly following the rag on a stick and plenty of other people pouring away from the station to the village itself. The flow of humanity headed for the water and then thinned somewhat as people were distracted by food and drink. The more determined tourists walked around the edge of the harbour towards the blue track. The water looked very inviting although, not knowing what to expect, we had not come equipped for swimming.

Looking up hill.

We thought we should have our regular rest and beer even though we hadn't walked far today to really earn either. The usual problem prevailed, the bars closer to the water were packed and the ones a little further away didn't serve draught beer. So, it was back home for refreshments.

Today we went further up the hill to Bar Centrale. Now I'm not criticising the speed of the service, but I did see two couples leave before placing an order and there was a skeleton sitting in the corner of the outdoor seating area with a bony finger raised perhaps to call the wait staff. Indeed, it took us petitioning three different wait staff before one could manage to provide us with il conto so we could pay and be on on our way. We also noted our 19€ was still sitting where we had left it on our table as we walked past 5 minutes later, having purchased some wine for our afternoon happy hour. Very trusting or relaxed people, the Italians.

Bar Centrale was however a great place to people watch and Jayne enjoyed watching the postal workers trying to deliver parcels. Unload the truck. Load the trolley, check the address, disappear into the crowd, return 15 minutes later with the parcels. Place them back on the truck, select a new parcel. Repeat. It was cause for celebration when a worker returned empty-handed.

The shirtless brigade continue to amuse. One guy turned up for lunch sans shirt. How do you think that would go down in Sydney say at Barangaroo or the Opera Bar? Not so good I suspect. Mind you, if I had a body like the one today, I would take my shirt off too. Sadly, though, in my experience, those who generally remove their shirts would be best to keep them on.

Now THAT is a handbag ... or is it a re-purposed wedding dress?

We are relaxing on the balcony listening to the waves and the sounds of Riomaggiore pre-dinner. You would know of my deeply entrenched love of all things Austen dear reader, her focus on the minutiae of life, all that bores me stupid. Well, I firmly believe we are there again. The current generation of selfie-takers, documenting their every move (I hope not movement), surely has surpassed her mindless commentary on balls and match-making. We just watched someone lean out of their window and take a photo of their bottle of beer. Admittedly it was an Italian beer, a Moretti, but really ... imagine slide night at his house on his return to the UK (yes, I'm profiling) and here is a picture of my first beer in Riomaggiore with the harbour in the background, and here is the beer I had at breakfast, and, oh, this one is great, here is the beer I had sitting on the stairs when I was too drunk to walk to the apartment. Seriously! What is that!

Coming to UK bookshops: "The beers I have consumed with picturesque backgrounds".