Category: Living in Italy

All Roads Lead to Rome

Alternative City Guide Football Living in Italy Travel 2 Comments

Seven days ago, I was back home in Bari feeling a little gutted that I had to teach a two-hour class at the same time as the England v Germany Euro 2020 match.  11 years earlier at Glastonbury 2010, I had even made the difficult decision to miss legendary Kinks frontman Ray Davies’ set on the Pyramid Stage in favour of watching the match on the big screens near the Dance Village instead.  England got thumped 4-1, so in hindsight it was perhaps, the wrong call.  

England v Germany is always a big deal.  The match last Tuesday at Wembley was made even more significant by the fact it was a repeat of the semi-final at Euro ’96, where England were knocked out of the tournament with our then-central defender and now-manager Gareth Southgate having his decisive kick saved by Andreas Köpke in the penalty shoot-out.  

Highlights of the famous England v Germany Euro 96 clash at Wembley. 26th June 1996.

The ’96 match was on the same day as my elder sister’s graduation from Durham University so she and my parents watched it there, whilst my half-Khasi grandmother travelled from Eastbourne to look after me in Market Bosworth, where we were living at the time.  I actually missed the first half because I had to go to Scouts (there is a pattern emerging here), but was then glued to the TV for the second half, extra time (including the agonising near misses by Gazza and Darren Anderton) and then the ensuing dramatic penalty shootout.  Despite being only nine years old, the game finishing at nearly 11pm and having school the next day, I vividly remember my grandma (a former nurse) encouraging me to “listen to some music” to calm me down so I would be able to go to sleep.  I think I finally drifted off to sleep sometime after midnight. 

Back to the 2021 rematch.  I managed to watch the pre-match build-up on the BBC but then had to make the 15-minute journey into school, just as the game was kicking off.  I switched my phone to airplane mode and didn’t look at any texts from friends and family for a few hours.  On my walk home I actively avoided going past certain bars or pizzerias that might be showing the game and wore headphones to drown out any noise.  At 9pm I was finally able to re-watch the match on my laptop but unfortunately, despite trying to avert my eyes, the 2-0 scoreline was revealed to me as the on-demand footage was buffering.  It did perhaps make for a slightly less stressful England-watching experience though…

Never did I think for a moment that I’d be at the quarter final against Ukraine at the Stadio Olimpico in Rome a few days later as part of the travelling ‘Expat Army’.  As soon as England had beaten Germany last Tuesday, I started getting WhatsApp messages from people asking if I was considering getting tickets for the game.  With Covid restrictions still requiring Brits to quarantine for five days upon entry to Italy; the only people who could go were England fans living in mainland Europe (or even further afield than that). 

A near-empty Stadio Olimpico upon our designated arrival time of 6.30pm. 3rd July 2021.

British media began (incorrectly) reporting on Tuesday night that the British Embassy in Rome would be issuing tickets to expats.  However, after making a number of calls on Wednesday morning to the UK Consulate in Rome, it became clear that this was false and that UEFA would be selling the tickets after all – but only to people who could prove they were permanently living outside of Regno Unito.  A British lady of Italian descent was selling a ticket through social media for €150 on behalf of her cousin who could no longer go; she seemed legitimate enough but was making a sizeable mark-up on the ticket and I took the risk and decided to wait until some became available on the official channels.

Finally, on Wednesday evening, UEFA made tickets available through its online portal.  They weren’t cheap and initially my instinct was that I couldn’t afford it (in Puglia I earn significantly less than I did in London), however several friends in the UK urged me to reconsider.  To quote my good mate from school Matt Turner; “It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity!”.  I snapped up the tickets, hastily began making travel plans to get to Rome the next morning and soon the Expats in Italy community was buzzing with people who would be making the very same pilgrimage.

I’d originally planned to take my time with Rome. I wanted to spend a full week (or even longer) in the city when the weather got a bit cooler in September or October.  The idea was to get the tourist sights out of the way nice and early and then live like a local and really get to know some of the less obvious parts of the city. Instead; the weekend just gone has been a fun-yet-hectic, whistle-stop visit, dominated by the football on both Friday and Saturday nights.  I arrived on Thursday evening and didn’t really stop until the high-speed train back to Bari Centrale left Roma Termini station early on Sunday evening.  

I walked a daily 30,000 steps on Friday, Saturday and Sunday, and on the first day tried, and succeeded in covering off The Vatican City and St Peter’s Basilica, Piazza del Popolo, The Spanish Steps, the Pantheon, the Altare della Patria monument, the Trevi Fountain, Campo de’ Fiori, Castel Sant’Angelo, the Roman Forum and the Colosseum.  The average temperature in Rome over the weekend was 30˚ and it’s accurate to say that by the time I met up with people for a drink that evening, I was suitably parched. The cold beers went down very well. 

A snapshot of my day exploring historic Rome.

The fact that the Pantheon – a Roman temple built by Hadrian circa AD 113 – has been in continual use ever since then particularly blew my mind.  Let’s be honest though, even with the Covid restrictions in place, much of Rome’s Centro Storico is a honeypot for tourists.  Food and drink there costs three times what it does in Bari and the crowded area around the Trevi Fountain, whilst beautiful, reminded me of a Baroque Leicester Square.  I sought out some respite in the nearby Galleria d’Arte Moderna – a tranquil gallery that was hosting the ‘Ciao Maschio!’ exhibition about toxic masculinity and political tyrants, as well as permanent works by Willem de Kooning (the Manics wrote the Everything Must Go track ‘Interiors’ about him), Carlo Levi and even London’s Gilbert & George.  Entry was just €7 – highly recommended if you want a break from the crowds.

Some of the delights of the Galleria d’Arte Moderna di Roma.

It was the Italy v Belgium quarter final on Friday night and a small group of us watched it on a screen outside a restaurant just off Campo de’ Fiori, chowing down on cacio e pepe, cold cuts and burrata and knocking back a few Birra Messina.  The final few minutes were tense but as the game finished 2-1 to Italy, the streets around the Centro Storico erupted and very soon they were teeming with local revellers celebrating the fact Italy had made it through to the semi-final.  We stationed ourselves outside a small bar just off the Piazza Navona and there was a carnival-like atmosphere around the packed small lanes with plenty of chanting and the odd flare being let off.  It was a lot of fun and the crowd continued to grow as the night went on.  We called it a night around 3.30am and it was probably the right decision with the England game the next day – the locals continued festivities long after that though.  

The scenes around Piazza Navona after Italy’s win against Belgium on Friday night.

Saturday was a slightly more chilled affair and after the typical Italian sweet breakfast of a pastry and coffee, I explored the Trastevere neighbourhood a little down the River Tiber.  It’s an area famous for its rustic and bohemian vibe, although there are now a lot of upmarket boutiques and eateries.  After an extremely rich polpettina di cicoria con pecorino and carbonara lunch, I climbed Il Gianicolo – the second tallest of Rome’s seven hills, with a small terrace area at the top offering fine views of the city.  I then made my way downhill to the Orto di Botanico di Roma – Rome’s botanical garden, opened in 1883 and operated by the Sapienza University of Rome.  It featured over 3,000 different species of plants and a Japanese, Mediterranean and medicinal garden –  not to mention two greenhouses full of giant cacti.  It was a peaceful, almost otherworldly place to relax ahead of the excitement that was awaiting us at Stadio Olimpico just a few hours later. 

Heading downstream to Trastevere and the Orto di Botanico.

Due to Covid-restrictions, everyone attending the England v Ukraine match was given a designated entry time with their ticket and mine happened to be 6.30pm – very early considering the kick-off wasn’t until 9pm.  We were treated to an awkward set by the tournament DJ (Euro-trance was his speciality) and some football jugglers but at least they showed the highlights of the Czech Republic v Denmark game on the big screens.  I’m not sure the stadium was quite prepared for how thirsty the England fans would be and very soon the bars had huge queues by them and the poor guys whose job it is to wander around the stadium selling drinks and snacks would be accosted as soon as they came back to the stand and would sell out again and have to refill pretty much instantly.  Soon the choruses of ‘Three Lions’ began to ring out across the England section of the stadium, whilst the opposite end gradually filled up with the yellow shirts of the Ukrainian fans.

There was a great atmosphere in the stadium as it got busier and we met people who had travelled to Rome from across mainland Europe, and even one lad originally from near Middlesbrough who’d made it over from Dubai in time. There was a group of Anglo-German healthcare workers who had decided to fly over from Frankfurt that day and were returning the same night and my English mate Jamie was also flying back to Vienna at 4am, straight after the match.  Whilst the newspapers made much of the “ragtag band of teachers, lawyers and waiters” (to quote a headline in The Sunday Times) who would be cheering England on in Rome, the mood became increasingly raucous and noisy, particularly after the three goals in the second half went in. 

Inside Rome’s Stadio Olimpico on Saturday night, including shots of the players celebrating Harry Maguire’s headed goal and Harry Kane leading the applause to the England fans.

Enough has already been written about the finer details of the England v Ukraine game itself, the team’s slow-build performance in the tournament so far and the possibility of the team reaching their first major final in 55 years.  However, in summary, the first half performance was efficient but not thrilling – Harry Kane’s early goal after four minutes settling some initial nerves.  Ukraine had a few half-chances towards the end of the half but we were never really in danger of conceding.  

The team turned up the heat in the second half though and Harry Maguire’s header was a real thunderbolt; we had a great view of it as we were sat right above where Luke Shaw’s assisting free-kick was taken from.  It was great to see Jadon Sancho getting his first start of the Euros on the right and Jordan Henderson’s first-ever England goal for number four too.  Kane led the players on a lap of honour at the end of the game and even the unused substitutes like the plucky Phil Foden and Jack Grealish joined him in their tracksuits too.  Foden’s newly-bleached peroxide barnet making him unmistakeable – even from the stadium’s furthest seats.  Ukraine didn’t provide the most challenging of opposition so perhaps it makes sense to keep the flair players in peak condition for the next match against Denmark.

Another rendition of ‘Three Lions’ at Stadio Olimpico on Saturday night.

Stadio Olimpico is a quite long way from the centre of Rome and post-match the 2,500 travelling England fans dispersed in several different directions very quickly.  However, we still had a few beers after the game but it was nothing compared to the celebrations after the Italy win the night before and the scenes in the alleys around Piazza Navona and Campo de’ Fiori.  

Sunday was spent exploring the Villa Borghese park just above the Piazza del Popolo, a quick walk around the Pantheon area again and then lunch at a great restaurant I had found on Thursday evening in the Prati district called 3 Quarti.  Reasonably-priced, off the tourist trail and busy with mainly locals, I would highly recommend it to anyone who is visiting Rome (they also have another restaurant in Roma Nord).  Thursday’s dish of choice was the classic Roman dish Maccheronici alla gricia and spicy sautéed cicoria as a side and lunch on Sunday was courgette flower stuffed with mozzarella and anchovies and cacio e tre pepe (three peppers – black, white and pink). 

The boating lake at Villa Borghese and the delicious fare at 3 Quarti on Via Attilio Regolo in the Prati district of Rome.

So, my first trip to Rome didn’t turn out exactly how I imagined it would be.  I walked on average 11 miles per day, drank quite a lot of beer and tried to cram as much into a three-night stay as physically possible – and that’s without starting on the football. It was great fun though, a real adrenaline rush getting the tickets so close to the match and good to also catch-up with some familiar faces.

I’ll be back in Rome before not too long but next time, will look forward to spending some time in the more under-the-radar neighbourhoods of Ostiense (a formerly industrial district now full of bars, galleries, museums and street art), Parioli (a leafy, well-heeled suburb of Northern Rome) and San Lorenzo (the buzzy student area where bottles of Peroni apparently still cost €1).  Another image of Rome that is embedded in my mind as much as the ancient architecture and numerous Baroque church spires is that of the distinctive stone pines (also, known as the Parasol or Umbrella pine).  They are everywhere – even in the city centre and are very much an iconic emblem of the city.  Until next time.  A dopo Roma.

Rome’s distinctive stone pines.

The sunset over the River Tiber near Prati on Thursday evening.

The Calabrian Red Gold

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The famous onions of Tropea

Calabria is the rugged, sparsely-populated and partly mountainous region that begins south of Naples and extends down into the “toe” of Italy’s “boot”, towards Sicily.  As well, as the notorious ‘Ndrangheta criminal syndicate, Calabria is famous for the spicy spreadable salami ‘Nduja, the Calabrese soppressata dry sausage, peperoncino (red chilli peppers – Calabrian cuisine is notably hotter than in the rest of Italy) and the distinctive Tropea red onions.  They grow between April and October and the most famous and revered variety cipolla da serbo are in season in May and June. 

They resemble giant spring onions but with a bright red bulb and they are renowned for their sweet and more delicate taste.  In fact, Calabrians claim that when a Tropea onion is ripe, it should be able to be “eaten just like an apple”.  Having bought some of these prized onions for the first time earlier this week, I can concur that they certainly are sweeter than their brown and white cousins and were equally at home being finely chopped raw into a salad and also, cooked and softened over a heat to form the base of a casserole.  This versatility means that Tropea onions are frequently served in Italy as part of antipasti cold cut spreads, as a panini filling, as pizza toppings, in pasta dishes and even grilled or barbequed whole (in Catania in Sicily I saw a variation of this where the whole onions had bacon or in some cases, intestines wrapped around them and they were then cooked outside over charcoal).  

Red Tropea onions hanging alongside peperoncino di Calabria (photo: Caterina Policaro).

Tropea onions have been awarded PGI status (Protected Geographical Indication) and are known locally as the “red gold”.  That said, I’ve noticed that Italians do seem to have a particular penchant for referring to edible items as “gold” – peperoni crusci (dried sweet peppers) is known as “the red gold of Basilicata” and the residents of Bronte in Sicily, a town renowned all over Italy for its high-quality pistachios talk about the humble nut as its “green gold”.  

The origins of these Tropea onions have been disputed but it’s now widely agreed that they were most likely introduced to Calabria by the Greeks and Phoenicians from present-day Lebanon around 3,000 years ago.  Tropea’s sandy soil, proximity to the coast and more moderate climate meant that the conditions were ideal for these unusual onions to flourish and eventually become one of the region’s best-known culinary exports.  The reason for their sweetness is due to a lower level of pyruvic acid than normal brown onions and this makes them less pungent and harsh – also less likely to induce tears as you slice them.

Red Onions “Cipolle di Tropea” (photo: Martin Mboesch), my own purchases and a wholewheat lampascioni and wholewheat pasta I made with them.

The cipolla da serbo also reputedly has numerous health benefits and the Roman author, naturalist and philosopher Pliny the Elder (his first solo album went massively under-the-radar) detailed the 30 ailments which can be treated by these particular onions in his then-groundbreaking encyclopaedia “Naturalis Historia”.  Pliny also pointed out that any dishes containing onions are curative as well as more nourishing.  Good to know…

Just a few examples of the different landscapes Calabria has to offer; Tropea, Belvedere Marittimo, Condofuri and Scalea.

I have been to Calabria twice; a week before the first Covid lockdown when I stayed in the coastal villages of Belvedere Marittimo, Diamante and Scalea and then last September, when I spent several hours winding my way through its mountainous landscapes on my way to Villa San Giovanni, to then take the short ferry hop over to Messina, Sicily (and then all the way back again).  The ‘vibe’ is noticeably different to that in Puglia; the scenery is more varied (craggy mountains, hilltops towns, scenic coasts and then fertile plains), the people slightly less open and welcoming and overall, it seems more wild and remote.  Puglia is by no means a developed region – apart from the bigger towns and cities, a lot of its rural areas appear to be just row upon row of olive trees and vines.  However, parts of Calabria feel a long way from civilisation.  Having said that; I was still pleasantly surprised by the fare available in the various Calabrian service stations I stopped at; ‘Ndjuja and mozzarella panini were the order of the day (historically, the region’s hot and humid climate led to food preservation techniques being key and cured meat and salsiccia are popular staples here).  

To find out more about Tropea’s unique red onions, you can watch the video below (it’s in Italian but English subtitles are provided):

Some Tropea onion recipes for inspiration:

Calabrian omelette with Tropea onions

Salt-baked Tropea onions

Spaghetti with Tropea onions

Calabrian red onion tart

Tropea onion jam

The Nostalgic Vagabond podcast; an Italian Sea-Change?

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I first met Allan B. Hill just over 10 years ago through a mutual friend of ours – my old classmate from school Chris. My band The Screenbeats were playing the 93 Feet East venue in the Old Truman Brewery on Brick Lane, East London, supporting the-then buzz band Man Like Me and Chris and Allan came along to watch.  In fact, we went for a slap-up curry a few hours before the show; perhaps not the ideal pre-gig preparation on my part.  From memory, a group of us then had a boozy night out afterwards and a couple of hazy photos still exist from that night.

A snap from the gig in question; 4th December 2010. The Screenbeats at 93 Feet East, Brick Lane (photo: Emily Trahair (née Joel).

Anyway, 10 years on and Allan and I reconnected for an episode of his The Nostalgic Vagabond podcast where we talk about swapping hectic London life for the South of Italy and the effect the pandemic has had on us all.  It was great to catch up after all this time and I really enjoyed our chat.


You can check out the new episode which went live today – it’s available on all good streaming services and you can find out more below.

‘Il Pasqualino’; Alberobello’s famous sandwich

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We are all going to die.  Unfortunately, this is an inconvenient, unavoidable fact of life.  However, once you have passed onto the next world, how would you like to be remembered?  A quaint wooden bench in a public park dedicated to your memory?  Your ashes placed in an attractive urn overlooking the family dining table so that you can watch over them as they eat?  Or perhaps you would like a distinctive tree planted in your honour?  Or you could have an item of food or even better, a panino named after you so that your essence can live on every time someone takes a bite of an unusual, yet delicious sandwich?  Well, that is exactly what happened with Pasquale Dell’Erba from Alberobello and ‘Il Pasqualino’.  

Pasquale’s views on life after death are not well-documented but one thing is clear; he made a bloody good sandwich (or panino in Italian).  He owned and ran a delicatessen on the corner of Corso Vittorio Emanuele and Via Cesare Battisti in the Pugliese town of Alberobello – famous internationally for its white, conically-shaped dwellings known as trulli.  His trademark sandwich started to attract attention in the town during the mid-1960s after he began rustling it up for a small group of three or four of his close friends who would meet regularly in front of his shop.

La Pagnottella’s version of ‘Il Pasqualino’

The ingredients varied a little from time to time and depending what was available in his deli, but usually the panino consisted of tuna, capers, salami and provolone cheese.  Always in that order and served in either turtle bread (pane tartaruga) or rosetta bread (rosette di pane).  It may not initially sound that appetising but the combination worked very well and soon its popularity caught on.  The sandwich became a hit with students from several local schools in the area who loved the fact that it was not only good value but also substantial and made using an unusual mix of hearty ingredients.  

Soon, Pasquale’s deli couldn’t keep up with the demand and they began pre-making a batch of panini first thing in the morning and then refrigerating them so that they would be instantly ready as customers arrived throughout the course of the day.  The term Il Pasqualino (‘The Pasqualino’) was born.  Over the next coming decades other bakeries in Alberobello started to serve their own version of the Pasqualino too, sometimes adding ingredients such as marinated mushrooms, pickles or other cold cuts of meat.  However, by the 1990s, these bakeries’ tradition of keeping a chest of readymade Pasqualinos in their shops began to fade and it became something of a well-kept local secret.  Pasquale’s memory lived on but only amongst those in the know in Alberobello.

Today, you can go into any deli, bakery or café in Alberobello, ask for “un Pasqualino, per favore” and they will know exactly what to make, even though very often it will not be listed anywhere on the menu, or on the board outside.  When I visited Alberobello last summer, I avoided the overpriced cafes on the main tourist drag near the ‘trulli zone’ and instead popped into La Pagnottella (Piazza Plebiscito, 10B) around the corner from Chiesa di San Lucia and the popular viewing platform next to it.  It is actually quite an upmarket deli that also serves an array of pastries and cakes (sadly I don’t have much of a sweet tooth so give me a sandwich laden with capers and cured meat and fish any day), as well as cheese and fresh pasta.

The lady behind the counter was very friendly and humoured my basic cod-Italian and quickly made me a Pasqualino from scratch – from what I could see, sticking to the traditional ingredients but with the addition of some pickles and a drizzle of olive oil.  It was delicious and actually went down very well with an iced coffee on a sweltering summer’s day; the acidity of the capers and pickles cutting through the meat and cheese.  The only word of warning is that there was a lot of olive oil – it’s definitely worth picking up an extra napkin or two before you leave the shop.

  • Signor Pasquale Dell’Erba, the creator of ‘The Pasqualino’ (photo: Alberobello.com).
  • Signor Pasquale Dell’Erba, the creator of ‘The Pasqualino’ (photo: Alberobello.com).

A word about Alberobello

Alberobello is a UNESCO World Heritage site, having been recognised in 1996 and is one of the most famous tourist destinations in Puglia.  The town is renowned for having the largest concentration of trulli (the plural form of ‘trullo’) anywhere in the world.  These conical, low-level, whitewashed buildings are particular to Puglia and they actually can’t be found anywhere else outside of Southern Italy.  There is also some debate about whether the author J.R.R. Tolkien ever visited Puglia and if the trulli served as the real-life inspiration for his novel The Hobbit and the fictional world of Middle-earth and the region where the hobbits lived called The Shire.

One of the main concentrations of trulli in Alberobello.

Trullis can be found dotted all over Puglia.  Whilst many of them are still private residential dwellings, a lot of them have now been converted into holiday homes, agriturismos, shops and restaurants.  The story of the trulli begins in the 14th century.  The ruling Aquaviva family was keen to avoid paying high property taxes to the Kingdom of Naples, so ordered local peasants to build homes that could be easily taken down, in the event on an inspection.  Using the ancient drywall (mortarless) building technique and locally-sourced limestone boulders, the trullis started to appear all over Puglia and became a symbol of the region.  Centuries later, many new homes were built in this style, partly as an act of defiance to the ruling family. 

Whilst I was keen to visit Alberobello at some stage whilst living in Bari, it wasn’t at the top of my list.  I prioritised the baroque and culinary delights of Lecce and the coastal towns Santa Maria di Leuca and Gallipoli first.  I actually only stopped off Alberobello for a couple of nights as I was going to the pared-down Locus Festival in nearby Locorotondo and accommodation there was completely fully-booked.  

The Comet is Coming at Locus Festival. 14th August 2020.

Locus Festival happens every summer in Puglia and in previous years has attracted the likes of David Byrne, Esperanza Spalding, Four Tet, Floating Points, Lauryn Hill, Theo Parrish, Sly & Robbie and Kamasi Washington to the picturesque town of Locorotondo.  Pre-Covid, Locus 2020 had announced a stellar line-up featuring The Pixies, Little Simz, Paul Weller and Kokoroko but sadly the event had to be completely scaled back and most of the acts were unable to play.  However, miraculously, some (socially-distanced) gigs were still able to go ahead in the grounds of the Masseria Ferragnano and I saw saxophonist Shabaka Hutchings’ experimental jazz outfit The Comet Is Coming play there.  I had seen Shabaka and the band several times in London and at Green Man Festival, so it was a strange experience seeing them playing a gig in the south of Italy during a pandemic year, but a great show all the same. 

The following morning, I woke up at 6am and found myself unable to go back to sleep; partly due to the sunlight pouring into my room through a broken blind.  It was actually a blessing in disguise as after a typically unsatisfying Italian breakfast of biscuits, pastries and coffee, I was able to explore the trullis of Alberobello without the hordes of tourists and with the August temperatures yet to reach their peak.  

The streets and trullis of Alberobello at 7am on a Saturday morning.

There really is no other place in the world like it and the town took on an otherworldly feel at 7am when the streets were quiet apart from a few local businesses opening up for the day.  This would be my tip for anyone visiting Alberobello; get up very early and explore the streets without the crowds.  Find somewhere for a lunchtime Pasqualino and then have an afternoon pisolino afterwards, if you need it.  By 11am, the place was already swarming with selfie-stick wielding tourists and later that evening a bar tried to charge me €9 for a 330cl beer.  Needless to say, after speaking to the waiter, I did not pay this.  

Salvation was found in the excellent Ristorante La Nicchia though. Now, it did involve a slightly hazardous 15-minute walk (or five minutes if you are driving) along a busy (and dark) main road to get there but it was absolutely worth it.  Housed in a complex of trulli 1.5km outside of Alberobello, you immediately got the impression that this was where the locals ate.  Great Pugliese fare, a huge wine selection and wallet-friendly prices.  

  • The food at La Nicchia; Ravioli with almonds, lampascioni and burrata.
  • Braciole in tomato sauce.

For more background reading on Alberobello’s famous Pasqualino panino, head to the Il Panino Italiano Magazine website (yes, there really is a magazine dedicated to the art of the Italian sandwich). 

The path less-trodden; part II

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Casamassima, Triggiano and Bronte  

In last week’s post I talked about an often-overlooked gem of a town, Gioia del Colle – 40 km inland from Bari and a town which has become renowned for its cheese and wine.  In this post I will turn my attention to three other off-the-beaten-track towns; Casamassima and Triggiano in Puglia and Bronte near Catania in Sicily.

The countryside around Bronte, Sicily.

Casamassima

“The building is horrible and really old and looks like it should be in a horror movie!”  

The teenage student had been asked to describe a building in his hometown and had chosen his scuola media (middle school).  He continued:

“And there are these really awful trees that grow outside and make the classrooms really dark.  For me; they should knock the school down and rebuild it again.” 

And when asked about whether he liked living in his hometown, Casamassima?

“Not really.  It’s a really boring small town and there’s not much to do apart from studying, running and going to the pizzeria.  Tourists never come here.” 

Then he remembered something that might vaguely be of interest:  

“Oh, but there is this one cool thing.  In the centro storico, some of the old houses are painted blue because they thought it would protect them during the… [he looks up the correct word] plague.” 

So, when I found myself with a school holiday in February, I took myself off to Casamassima – also known as Puglia’s ‘Blue Town’. 

It’s a town with a population of 19,000 that’s 25 minutes’ drive from Bari and nestled at the foot of the Murge Plateau.  It has an interesting history and was most likely founded during the Punic Wars by the Roman general Quintus Fabius Maximus Verrucosus.  In the 14th century it was attacked by the army of Louis I of Hungary and whilst nearby cities like Bari resisted the attack thanks to its city walls and defences, Casamassima fell and the troops razed the village to the ground, burning and killing everything in sight.  It was then subsequently rebuilt by the Principality of Taranto, under The Kingdom of Naples and later commandeered by the Acquaviva and Vaaz families (of Portuguese-Jewish origin). 

I arrived in Casamassima in the afternoon on a cold and blustery day and found myself a parking space, near an ugly school building surrounded by huge weeping willow-style trees, that spookily matched my student’s description.  If this was the place he was describing, he was spot-on, as you can see below.

Photo: Google Street View.

A short stroll took me into the town centre and after walking through a stone archway and into a narrow street, I found myself in Casamassima’s centro storico and soon enough I began to see several medieval-age stone buildings painted in light blue lime.  Casamassima is known in Puglia as “Il Paese Azzurro” (“The Blue Country”) and local legend has it that houses in the town were turned blue by adding copper sulphate to quicklime, after an outbreak of plague in 1658 (transmitted by sailors arriving at the port of Bari) to both ward off and show gratitude to the Madonna for protecting the town against the disease.  

In the 1960s, the Millan artist Vittorio Viviani was struck by Casamassima’s uniqueness and began painting new works using the town’s centre as the backdrop.  This played a part in reviving the centro storico’s fortunes and also resulted in a period of urbanisation in the town (up until then, most of its residents’ primary source of income had been from agriculture).  A large shopping and commercial centre (‘Parco Commerciale Casamassima’) was also built on the edge of the town, although it’s attracted much criticism from locals who see it as an eyesore and are dismayed by the fact that many of its units remain empty.  

Casamassima; ‘Il Paese Azzurro’.

This wasn’t my first visit to Casamassima though.  Back in the summer, I had visited Villa Pagliaro; an imposing masseria built around 1870.  ‘Masseria’ is the Pugliese word for a ‘fortified farmhouse’ and they are a common sight throughout the region.  There is a different word for these sorts of buildings, depending on which area of Italy you live in so ‘masseria’ is very typically and exclusively Puglian.  I had been given an Italian lesson (and delicious tomato and rosemary crostini) courtesy of one of its residents Tiziana, as well as a tour of the villa’s grounds – now mainly used for the cultivation of olives, cherries and when the season is right, Indian figs (or Barbary figs or the ‘prickly pear’).  Tiziana’s partner’s father owns the masseria and had been brought up there so the family was determined to continue making their living as authentically as possible, rather than transforming the building into a luxury wedding venue or boutique hotel, like so many others in the area.

Villa Pagliaro, Casamassima.

However, this masseria also had a secret.  During World War II, its top floors became something of an unofficial nightclub for Allied soldiers based in the area and was a place for them to hang out and socialise.  As well as an old piano, the attic levels of Villa Pagliaro still contain a number of well-preserved wall paintings and murals from the 1940s.  There is a great article about them on the fascinating Barese local history website Barinedita. 

The WWII-era murals on the top floor of the masseria. Photos: Barinedita.

Triggiano

Triggiano is another small town in Puglia; about 10 km from Bari driving in the direction of Rutigliano with 14th century origins.  If you want a snapshot of daily life in a sleepy Italian town then it’s worth spending a few hours in Triggiano.  

It’s actually larger than Casamassima (its population is circa 30,000 but somehow seems a lot quieter and quainter).  Its outskirts are mainly non-descript concrete apartment blocks but the town’s centre boasts a number of Baroque 17thcentury churches and a small centro storico.  There are plenty of cafes to choose from for a quick espresso hit, as well as the usual delis, pasticcerie and macellerie you’d expect to find in any typical Italian town.  Prices were actually slightly cheaper than in the larger cities like Bari and Lecce too.  On my way home, I also drove through the nearby Noicattaro and at 5pm on a Saturday the attractive centre was bustling with people fetching supplies for their evening ahead.  Perhaps a place to explore in greater detail in future. 

Triggiano apparently also has important emigrant communities in both the United States and Venezuela.  During the festival of the Madonna della Croce in late-September, families often return to the town to show their children their origins and to donate money to the locality. 

Out and about in Triggiano.

Bronte

I spent ten days exploring Sicily in September before the start of the new school year and just after my mates from London Mark and Stu had visited me in Bari.  The eight-hour drive through rugged and mountainous Calabria all the way to the ferry terminal at Villa San Giovanni was an experience in itself and I then spent time in Messina (a rough and ready port city but with good food), Cefalu (beautiful but touristy), Palermo (a fascinating, heaving multicultural city), Syracuse (steeped in ancient history and mythology, plus heavenly seafood), Fiumefreddo di Sicilia (um, The Godfather) and Catania (a lively, fun city full of hip hang-outs).  However, it was the small town of Bronte, about an hour from Catania and lying in Mount Etna’s shadow that really stood out to me. 

Bronte, Sicily.

Bronte is a town that revolves around the growing and harvesting of its very own ‘green gold’ – the pistachio nut.  Bronte’s pistachio nuts are said to have a unique flavour (“the perfect balance between sweet and savoury”), texture and vibrant green colour that is incomparable to any other and they are sought-after by chefs all over the world.  

Bronte’s position 760 metres above sea level and on the Western slopes of Mount Etna is said to contribute to its pistachios’ unique quality as the plants absorb nutrients and minerals from the soil containing old lava deposits.  The cultivation of pistachios is a tradition that’s handed down from father to son and retrieving the nut from the tree is still done by hand and in some cases, by shaking the plant.  As a result of this centuries-old and painstaking process, Bronte pistachios are DOP-certified (of course) and often fetch high prices.  You will notice in Sicily that rather than parmesan or pecorino cheese, crushed pistachios will often be served on top of pasta dishes and you can pick up a bag of these pre-crushed at local markets for only a couple of euros. 

The first impression of Bronte upon visiting is that it’s a very lush-looking and scenic place.  It’s surrounded by green hills, olive groves and cactus fields, yet the ominous presence of Mount Etna is clearly visible from just about anywhere in the town.  I stopped for lunch at a small café and picked up a panino, arancino, water and coffee for €2.50 and even though there were several shops dedicated to the humble pistachio nut, it didn’t seem like they were visited by many tourists (it is about one hour’s drive from Catania, around the other side of Mount Etna).  

Mount Etna from the road to Bronte.

I took a walk around its quiet, hilly streets, passing the occasional tractor and trailer and through a park that overlooked some hills covered in green vegetation before picking up some of these hallowed pistachios for my family back in the UK.  They were very tasty and succulent and were certainly a lot greener than the varieties you find in supermarkets. 

Bronte and the surrounding countryside is well worth a visit if you are looking for something a little more unusual to do in Sicily.  You can find out more about the town, its history and places to stay here.

Bronte, Sicily.

Gioia del Colle; a town built on cheese and wine

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Exploring the path less-trodden

I’ve always been a little suspicious of the places that everyone says you simply have to visit and am naturally more drawn to the under-the-radar destinations that pass a lot of people by.  Whilst the pristine towns close to Bari on the Adriatic Coast like Monopoli and Polignano a Mare are lovely places to have lunch and spend an afternoon, I much preferred exploring the less conspicuous nearby coastal towns Giovinazzo and Mola di Bari, or the misunderstood, slightly rundown, but thoroughly absorbing Taranto.  

I’ve yet to visit Florence, Rome or Venice during my extended stay in Italy but I had a great time exploring Bologna, the backstreets of Lecce, Piacenza, Ravenna, Turin and Vasto.  In the rugged state of Calabria, most tourists head for the picturesque clifftop settlement of Tropea.  Instead I chose to divide my time between the backwater towns Belvedere Marittimo, Diamante and Scalea.  I think you have a more authentic experience than in the towns purely oriented for tourists and you get a better feel for everyday Italian life and culture this way.

Despite the ongoing disruption and travel restrictions that have been imposed over this past year as a result of the pandemic, I’ve tried my very best to see and experience as much of Italy as I’ve possibly been able to (also, of course, only when it’s been safe to do so).  For the early part of 2021, Puglia was classified as ‘zona gialla’ (‘yellow zone’) and we were not allowed to leave the region.  Whilst this was naturally frustrating; it was also a chance to visit some of lesser-known towns within Bari’s immediate vicinity. 

Gioia del Colle 

I had been intrigued by Gioia del Colle (“Joy of the Hill”) ever since reading about it during my visit to Taranto last August.  I had been told that Gioia was the go-to place in Puglia for buying the best fresh mozzarella and burrata (cream-filled mozzarella for the uninitiated) and that it was also famous for its red wine – the Gioia del Colle Primitivo.

I finally got around to visiting two weeks ago and was pleasantly surprised by what I found.  Gioia del Colle is a charming small town with a population of 28,000, about 40km inland from Bari, driving down the Strada Statale 100 in the direction of Mottola and Massafra.  Much of its prosperity going back hundreds of years has been as a result of agriculture and food production – cheese and wine, but also olive oil and pasta. 

As with many Pugliese towns, its outskirts are nondescript and a tad industrial; casual urban sprawl, dotted with the odd mid-century concrete high-rise and petrol station.  However, the quaint town centre is focused around the nucleus of the central Piazza Plebiscito and several ornate Baroque churches namely, Chiesa di San Francesco, Chiesa di San Rocco and Chiesa di Santa Maria Maggiore.  The latter was originally built in the 11th century and then rebuilt in 1764 following a fire and acts as the city’s principal place of Christian worship.  It’s also located in the oldest part of the city, on the edge of the claustrophobic residential maze of the Centro Storico and a stone’s throw from the Norman-Swabian Castle which has Byzantine origins.  The castle is now home to the Gioia del Colle National Archaeological Museum.

Clockwise (from top left); 1.) Looking towards Chiesa di Santa Maria Maggiore. 2.) The church’s interior. 3.) Inside Chiesa di San Francesco. 4.) Chiesa di San Rocco. 5.) Its ornate interior. 6.) The Norman-Swabian Castle.

I arrived in the town after lunch when all was still quiet due to the Italian South’s habitual early afternoon period of downtime, il pisolino.  It wasn’t until nearer 5pm that the town whirred into action again, its caseifici and macellerie opening their doors for the second time that day, Chiesa Santa Maria Maggiore preparing for the early evening funeral of a local dignitary (the hearse was struggling to manoeuvre the corners of the medieval streets of the Centro Storico when I passed it) and the central piazza becoming a meeting places for both teenagers and uomini vecchi (“elderly men”), alike.

Piazza Plebiscito.

Gioia del Colle’s best-known export is its cheese and its mozzarella has even been awarded the much-coveted DOP (‘Denominazione d’Origine Protetta’) certification.  This DOP label ensures that not only has the product been made with locally-sourced ingredients and by local farmers and artisans but that it has also been created using time-honoured traditional methods.  Admittedly, Italy’s mild climate, all-year sunshine and fertile (and in some places, volcanic) soil makes it something of an agricultural nirvana and there are numerous different esteemed DOPs for any given product.  Italy currently has 138 DOPs in total and over 40 for extra virgin olive oil alone. 

Despite having started 2021 on something of a post-Christmas health-kick (rigorous daily exercise, curtailing the booze and copious amounts of oats, natural yoghurt and cider vinegar), I thought it would be rude not to delve into some of the dairified delights of Gioia’s cheese shops (known as ‘caseifici’).  After some quick-iPhone led research I decided on ‘Caseificio Artigianale “Masseria Corvello” di Michele Spinelli’ on Via Gabriele d’Annunzio, a short walk from the town centre.  It proved to be an excellent choice and I was reassured that rather than having a huge cabinet full of lots of different types of cheese, they stuck to a smaller number that they obviously knew were really special.  

The counter at Caseificio Artignale ‘Masseria Corvello’, Gioia del Colle.

I picked up some Gioia del Colle DOP mozzarella, a chunk of provolone, a small cylinder of the salty Pugliese semi-soft cheese Cacioricotta and an unusual white cheese that the lady behind the counter described as “formaggi fermentato”.  The small individual pearls of mozzarella were delicious and succulent enough to enjoy as a starter with just a drizzle of olive oil, cracked black pepper and some green valerianella leaves (cooking with it seemed like sacrilege).  The provolone was ideal for grating into pasta and for baking with and it’s long-lasting – there’s still plenty left.  Cacioricotta has been a favourite Pugliese cheese of mine for a while and is equally tasty served with cooked orecchiette and tomatoes (the classic dish Orecchiette al sugo), or on its own with slices of fruit such as figs.  The formaggi fermentato was a real revelation; a pungent white cheese that was soft in texture but had the saltiness and bitterness of a strong Roquefort.

Gioia is also famed for its wine and in particular its Primitivo variety which is typical of Puglia and ‘DOC’-certified – ‘Denominazione di origine controllata’.  It is required to have a minimum alcohol level of 13% and it is thought to have been popularised in the area by monks who found conditions suitable for cultivating the vine during the Middle Ages.  I didn’t buy any wine during my visit to Gioia but did see a bottle of its Primitivo for sale in Bari a week later for €23.  Perhaps one for next time I’m celebrating.

I did manage to track down the former site of the Cassano Distillery on the edge of town though.  In the late 19thcentury, Gioia del Colle was renowned for not only its wine but also its cognac and spirits using leftover wine that had been distilled.  The Cassano Distillery was opened in a former farm in 1891 and thrived until 1914 when the business transferred into the ownership of the Taranto Family and the distillery then subsequently fell into disrepair.  It was transferred to the health authority in 1970 to be converted into a hospital but then was taken over by the municipality of Gioia del Colle in 1997.  It was renovated in 2006 and is today protected by the Ministry of Culture and Environment as a site of monumental and environmental heritage and hosts concerts and events.  It was unfortunately closed up and deserted when I visited but it would be very interesting to explore in non-Covid times. 

  • The former Cassano Distillery.
  • The old distillery’s entrance.

8km to the north-east of Gioia is the WWF-protected woodland area Boschi Romanazzi.  I thought I’d take a quick detour via there on my way home and as the light began to fade.  The main road forked right down an unmade road, took me past a grand-looking pair of gates, a roadside shrine to the Madonna and then a lonely crumbling masseria (someone’s dream home in the waiting, before opening out into an expanse of deciduous trees and green fields.  It actually looked quintessentially English and was very different to the arid plains and olive groves that surround Bari.  A fox even jumped over a hedge in front of my car and for a moment I had to pull over to Google “are there foxes in Italy?”.  For some reason, I thought they only stuck to Northern Europe.  

The crumbling masseria I passed on my way to Boschi Romanazzi.

I continued down a track marked by a sign with a large red circle and a white line running across it and then clocked a farmer on a rusty-looking tractor who was finishing his day’s work.  He eyed my bright red car with an English registration plate suspiciously and I decided it was the right time to turn around and head back to the main road.  I filled the tank up with petrol, got back on the SS100 and made good time getting back to Bari, eager to be home ahead of the 10pm Covid curfew.  

Boschi Romanazzi, Gioia del Colle.

As with many obscure Italian towns, Gioia del Colle actually has a tenuous link to Hollywood celebrity too.  Sylvester Stallone’s grandparents Silvestro (a barber in the town) and Pulchiera were born and raised in Gioia before emigrating to America in 1930.  There is even a mysterious photo in existence of Sylvester, alongside his father and brother in 1965, said to be taken in the town.  Its location has never been able to be confirmed though.

Gioia del Colle is definitely worth a visit if you are in Puglia.  It’s driveable in a day from the cities Bari, Brindisi and Taranto and there’s enough in the town to even make a relaxing weekend break.  It might be a good idea to fast leading up to it though, bearing in mind the calories you are likely to consume in decadent cheeses and rich red wine.

The streets near to Gioia del Colle’s Centro Storico and the town hall (“Comune di Gioia del Colle”).

In my next post; I’ll continue the theme of exploring under-the-radar places and will talk a little about Puglia’s “blue town” Casamassima, nearby Triggiano and a small town under Mount Etna’s shadow in Sicily whose economy revolves around “the green gold” – the humble pistachio nut. 

Just another day in Madonnella

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My street in Madonnella, Bari.

In Bari, I live in the Madonnella district of the city.  It’s a fairly traditional part of town that hugs the Adriatic coast to the north-east and is a 10-minute walk from both Bari Vecchia (the medieval Old Town containing the Basilica di San Nicola, Piazza del Ferrarese and Piazza Mercantile) and Murat, the more modern city centre and main shopping area – where I work.  It also shares a border with the grittier Japigia neighbourhood to the south-east and San Pasquale to the south-west, over the railway line that intersects the city.  Indeed, the original site of the Peroni brewery on Via Giovanni Amendola is just a short walk away over the tracks.  Sadly, this was demolished in the last century and the factory relocated to the outskirts of the city.

Clockwise (from top left); 1.) The old Peroni brewery on Via Giovanni Amendola, San Pasquale. 2.) Various shots of Madonnella. 3.) Piazza Francesco Carabellese.

Madonnella gets its name from a statue of the Madonna that was placed in the area’s main square in the latter part of the 19th century.  The original statue is thought to have been destroyed after World War II but was replaced in stone in 1956 and still stands today in Piazza Francesco Carabellese, a stone’s throw from my flat.  As well as its numerous cafes, pasticcerie (cake shops), formaggerie (cheese shops), salumerie (salami shops) and pollerie (erm, poultry shops), Madonnella is dotted with various shrines and religious icons.  

The statue of the Madonna. Piazza Francesco Carabellese, Madonnella.

On my street itself, is a shrine to Saint Antonio of Padua; a Portuguese Catholic priest who devoted most of his life to caring for the poor and the sick before unfortunately succumbing to ergot-poisoning at the tender age of 35 in 1231 in – you’ve guessed it – Padua.  His shrine has its very own lace curtain, healthy-looking plants and flowers that are watered and well-tended to, lights that turn on in the evening and a small piece of red carpet on the pavement that I feel a little guilty walking over whenever I’m returning home with bags of shopping and aren’t able to step into the road.  Miniature Christmas trees and fairy lights even appeared on the shrine in December.  It is immaculate and reminds me of many of the Hindu shrines I saw during my time in India.

  • The shrine of Saint Antonio.
  • Getting ready for Saint Antonio’s Feast Day on 13th June.

For two weeks at the beginning of June, Saint Antonio’s shrine became a hive of activity and excitement. The flowers were even more lovingly attended to than usual and a circle of plastic chairs were placed around the shrine, partially obstructing the road.  Then at 6pm each day, there were daily evening prayers, followed by the odd song.  A group of elder ladies would sit on the plastic chairs circling the shrine, whilst other people living on the street would also take part – leaning over from their balconies to join in and to recite prayers and then bellow out the songs.

Saint Antonio’s shrine in December.

Then on the 13th June – Saint Antonio’s ‘Feast Day’ – the street threw an all-day party to celebrate.  An early morning service was followed by a communal lunch with a long table placed in the middle of the road and the slightly shady “we only serve beer and Fanta” ‘bar’ opposite pumped out reggaeton bangers from 8am until dusk.  There was quite a sizeable pile of empty Peroni bottles left outside by the end of proceedings.

Every now and again a statue of a mysterious lady, shrouded in black, crying and holding a tissue and rosary beads appears next to Saint Antonio’s shrine.  Sometimes, there would be a small wicker basket next to her containing print-outs of prayers.  There’s no denying she’s a slightly ominous presence.  She appeared (perhaps on purpose) whilst my friends Mark and Stuart were visiting from London in September, much to their bemusement.  “Her eyes are following us”, noted one of them as we cautiously filed past her one evening on our way to the city centre.  This mysterious figure tends to appear for a week or so and then disappear again, as quickly as she emerged.

  • The figure of SS Sorrowful or ‘Our Lady of Sorrows’.

Some research has led me to believe that this mysterious occasional visitor to the shrine is ‘SS Sorrowful’ or ‘Our Lady of Sorrows’ – a Catholic representation of Mary, the mother of Jesus.  Her ‘sorrowful’ nature reflects the “seven sorrows in her life” and are sometimes depicted as “seven daggers plunged into her heart”.  Sounds uncomfortable.

It turns out this this representation of the Virgin Mary also has her own dedicated feast day on 15th September.  It transpired that the celebrations for poor old Saint Antonio back in June were nothing compared to this.  It would appear that SS Sorrowful is something of a night owl as the festivities didn’t really get going until the evening. However; soon it felt like most of the street was out in force.  After the religious ceremony which was conducted by a priest, there was music (the bar opposite again doing the honours), food and then a grand firework display with many of my neighbours setting off DIY pyrotechnics from the roofs of their homes.  Things eventually quietened down shortly after midnight.

The celebration of Our Lady of Sorrows’ Feast Day on 15th September.

Over the past year I have grown very fond of this little street in Madonnella that I am currently calling home.  My flat may be freezing and a little damp during the winter months due to a lack of central heating (from December until the end of February I spend a large amount of my time in hoodies, jogging bottoms and a combination of blankets), but there is never a dull day here – much in a way that is similar to Brixton, my home in London.  Organised religion aside and there is definitely a genuine sense of a co-existing community.  Whilst I am definitely in the minority being British; there is a real mix of nationalities.  As well as Italians, my neighbours included Chinese, Mauritians and Indian families.  Last year, the Carabinieri arrived one Sunday afternoon and appeared to be very publically checking some of my neighbours’ documents.  Whilst this was going on, several of my Italian neighbours came to their defence, angrily shouting at the police from their balconies.  The Carabinieri soon went on their way. 

I enjoyed a tempestuous relationship with one of my downstairs neighbours.  During the summer, the air conditioning unit on my balcony was unbeknownst to me, slowly dripping onto the pavement just outside his front door below.  He rushed upstairs one evening, lit cigarette in-mouth to shout at me and make me aware in a very animated fashion that there was an issue.  I apologised and placing a bucket on the balcony soon resolved the problem.  A few weeks later and after seeing one of my ‘nonna’ neighbours do it, I thought it would be ok to use some of the water that had collected in the bucket to rinse my balcony.  Big mistake.  Once again, I heard a flurry of footsteps coming up the hallway stairs outside my flat and I opened my door to find my neighbour outside shouting “basta!” repeatedly at me.  I soon found out that the word meant ‘enough!’.  

We patched things up though and were pleasant to each other over the next few months; he even helped me to test the intercom buzzer of my front door when it stopped working.  However, I recently noticed that he had moved out and that two middle-aged Indian ladies have moved in in his place.  A few nights ago and there was a big storm in Bari; with wind and rain lashing down on the streets.  I heard some banging coming from downstairs and looked out to see that the two ladies were trying to fasten their front door shut as the double doors kept flying open in the wind.  One of the elder Italian nonnas who lives opposite was also there with them – trying to fix the door shut despite the elements raging around them.  Eventually they succeeded, the banging stopped and the nonna returned home.

I don’t know the lady in question’s name yet but we are on friendly enough terms – usually a wave or a brief “ciao!”.  From what I gather she lives with her mother, sister and daughter in the same apartment and appears to be the street’s matriarch.  Last year I was spotted driving a car and she stopped and warned me to be careful of “gli animali” (“the animals”).  Who knew that inner city Bari is such a haven for wildlife? 

On a few occasions now, there’s been a knock or a ring with some urgency at the communal front door downstairs.  When I’ve gone to open it, she’s there, looking for “il gatto!” – a mischievous cat who has taken a liking to the balcony in our hallway, as well as the corrugated iron roof beyond it.  Several times I’ve let her in so she can stand on the balcony and gradually coax the said cat back down.  

In my basic Italian I asked her on the most recent instance; “è il tuo gatto?” (“is it your cat?”).

“No!”, she replied, laughing, as though I’d asked her a daft question.  “Un gatto di strada!”  

So, this kindly soul has taken it upon herself to look after and protect the local street cat.  Maybe she is an animal lover at heart or just a good person.  Or perhaps the cat keeps the rodent population down.

Either way, keep reading for more stories from Madonnella. 

Looking towards Piazza Francesco Carabellese from my flat in Madonnella.

All is quiet on the street during the daily riposo (1pm – 5pm)

Bari; the resting place of ‘Father Christmas’

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Saint Nicholas or San Nicola reigns supreme in Bari.  He’s everywhere.  Countless buildings in the city are named in his honour (for example, the Stadio San Nicola, home of SSC Bari) and it’s not uncommon to see ornate pictures and murals of him adorning houses, bars, cafes and restaurants in the city.  This is all down to his relics essentially being stolen from a tomb in a church in the ancient Greek town of Myria by Italian sailors following the Battle of Manzikert in 1071.  The sailors brought the relics back to Bari and two years later, the Basilica di San Nicola was inaugurated by Pope Urban II to house Saint Nicholas’ remains.  It is said that the Pope personally placed the bones into the tomb underneath the church’s altar himself. 

The Procession of Saint Nicholas, Bari.

Also, known as Nicholas of Bari and Nicholas The Wonderworker, he lived during the age of the Roman Empire and was a Christian bishop of Greek descent who spent most of his life living in the ancient town of Myra on the Anatolia peninsula, now part of Turkey.   He gave all of the inheritance he received from his late parents to charity and was renowned for his spontaneous and secretive gift-giving and later became the inspiration for Santa Claus / Father Christmas.

Although many of the events in Saint Nicholas’ life are historically disputed, he seemed like a pretty sound bloke.  He brought three young children back to life after they were killed by a maniacal butcher, with the intention of turning them into ham.  He saved three poor sisters from a life of prostitution after dropping gold coins to them through the windows of their home.  He appeared as a visitation in front of an executioner, threw his sword to the ground and saved three innocent men from their deaths after they had been condemned by the governor Eustathius.  How a Greek-born philanthropist from 270 AD who spent much of his life living in Turkey morphed into an obese, white-haired, problem-drinking old man known as Santa Claus is unclear but it may have had something to do with the Dutch tradition of celebrating Sinterklaas.

It’s safe to say that Christmas in Bari, given its association with Saint Nicholas is usually a pretty big deal.  Some of my students and Italian friends have told me about big street parties that take place on the 24th and 25th December and it sounds that in pre-Covid times, Christmas week is one big celebration of feasts, dotted with various religious ceremonies.  It is said that Saint Nicholas’ relics continue to produce the miraculous liquid manna to this day.  On his saint’s feast day on 6th December, a flask is used to collect the liquid from his sarcophagus and some is even available to purchase in shops near to the basilica.

Clockwise from left; Christmas lights on Via Sparano, Bari. Bari Lungomare. Basilica di San Nicola on 6th December. Festive panettone.

Another Italian festive legend is that of Befana, a hideous, yet kindly witch who visits children on Epiphany Eve (5th January) and depending on their behaviour over the previous year, gifts them with either presents of candy or lumps of coal.  It is reported that Befana is also a fastidious housekeeper and that she will sweep the floor of the house upon leaving, brushing away the problems of the previous year.  Whilst Father Christmas’ existence is widely-debated, I have seen several possible contenders in Bari for Befana.

I was lucky enough to be able to make it back to the UK for Christmas this year, narrowly avoiding the flare-up resulting from the new super-contagious strain of Covid being identified in London and the South-East in mid-December.  I may have gone a little overboard in packing as much cured meat, cheese, spreads, pistachio nuts and panettone for family into my check-in luggage as possible.  My excuse is that I was following the bountiful example set by Saint Nicholas.  Detox and intermittent fasting begins in January.  

The Christmas bounty from Italy.

I have made an alternative Christmas Spotify playlist for the festive season featuring the likes of James Brown, Calexico and LCD Soundsystem.  Check it out here – enjoy!

From Brixton to Bari

Living in Italy 6 Comments

12th November 2020

A year ago to the day, I said goodbye to London and life as I had known it. 

For better or for worse, I left behind friends, relationships, a comfortable lifestyle, my beloved record collection and a steady career.

First, I spent a captivating six weeks in India; travelling from Mumbai in the West, to Kerala in the south, Chennai in the East and finally Meghalaya and Kolkata in the North.  

Then on January 3rd 2020, I moved indefinitely to Bari in Southern Italy with only two suitcases and my trusty 1962 Harmony H1260 guitar in tow (the same model that Jimmy Page used on ‘Stairway to Heaven’, if you’re interested).  

El Chiringuito, Bari.

One year on, I am writing this from a spartan one-bedroom flat in the Madonnella district, with the Adriatic Sea and ‘Lungomare’ (‘sea front’) a two-minute walk away.  The flat has a mould problem, a leaking bathroom tap and basin (my landlord, a retired football scout, has asked me to ‘manage’ the problem with a plastic container for the time being), questionable kitchen plumbing (l’idraulico has only been called out to unblock the sink a mere four times this year) and a burgeoning mosquito population who enjoy an active nightlife that seems to peak around 5am in my bedroom.  For reasons that don’t need elaborating on, I have spent more time inside this flat during 2020 than I ever thought imaginable.  

  • My Barese home.
  • The daily view from my kitchen.

However, this well-worn old building in deepest Madonnella is full of character and my neighbours include numerous inquisitive, yet friendly older Italian ‘nonnas’ whose homes overlook mine.  I am sure they know where I am from (“L’Inglese!”), what I do for a living (“Lui è un insegnante!”), as well as what music I listen to (“Le Smeeeths!”).  There is a secretive speakeasy bar diagonally opposite (“We only sell Peroni and Fanta” was the curt response when I enquired about buying a bottle of water one evening when my flat’s water supply had been cut off) and the street is surprisingly multicultural; I live a few doors down from a Chinese gentleman who dries his clothes on an airer he places on the pavement, a large family from Mauritius and several Indians.

It’s 5.30pm, my neighbours have started to stir from their daily siestas and chatter loudly from their balconies and The Ecstatic Music of Alice Coltrane Turiyasangitananda is on my stereo.  Despite the ongoing uneasiness caused by the Covid pandemic, with news of an approved vaccine on the way and Joe Biden’s impending inauguration as POTUS, there is plenty to feel optimistic about. 

Just another day in Madonnella.

But, why Bari? 

I was familiar with Bari being one of the largest cities in Southern Italy and the capital of the Puglia region but I must admit that a lot of my knowledge was down to S.S.C. Bari being the first Italian club of choice for former England midfielder David Platt when he made the switch to Serie A in 1991 (for then a British transfer record fee).  I got good vibes from my new school during my interview though and it sounded like a liveable city – “The Paris of the South” according to locals – and with a population of just over 300,000, a little less hectic than London.  Puglia is also a region famous for its no-fuss, predominantly vegetarian cuisine (‘cucina povera’) and this was certainly another major draw for me.

I had spent over ten years in London – at times working very hard, at other times having a lot of fun – and in general, living life at 100 miles per hour.  I’d had a lot of highs but also some fairly crushing lows (being told in an appraisal by a boss early in my career that he’d “be embarrassed to be me” and that I should be “ashamed of myself”, ranks pretty highly.  Said boss also had a penchant for making girls cry during interviews but that’s another story). 

The typical working week for me in London would often consist of 45-50 hours in the office, going to three evening gigs after work, a big night out or two at the weekend, four or five gym or swimming pool sessions and on average, five or six nightly hours of sleep.  Cramming as much into my days as possible and then feeling suitably knackered by the time Friday evening came around.

My home in Brixton, South London.

I had done reasonably in my career and worked myself up to a position that had a degree of responsibility but I couldn’t help but feel an unscratched itch that there had to be more to life than this and that time in the city was starting to pass by increasingly quickly.  

I began to look into teaching English overseas.  

It felt like an ideal way to experience living and working in a different country whilst doing something meaningful and dealing with lots of different people every day.  Being able to ‘teach’ also felt like a good life skill to have too, no matter what the future years would have in store. 

I studied for one of the necessary teaching qualifications and was soon able to start applying for roles. 

There were several options on the table; I was offered positions in Hanoi in Vietnam, Bangkok in Thailand, Morelia in Mexico, Madrid in Spain and Catania in Sicily.  However, I chose Bari.  

Bari Lungomare.

All written copy and materials are the intellectual property of Clive Drew. 2025 ©

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