The delights of Foggia, Cervia, Lucerne, Mannheim and the overnight Hook of Holland ferry
In late-July and with daily temperatures now registering well into the mid-30s, the school year finally wound to a close after another turbulent nine months of lockdowns and curfews. Whilst some of my colleagues returned to the UK via a quick two-hour flight from Bari Karol Wojtyła Airport, I decided to instead drive the 2,445-km journey back (the main reason being that the car needed its MOT service back in Britain) and then spend three weeks in the UK catching up with family and friends – also fitting in two festivals as well.
I had previously driven to Bari from my parents’ home in Highclere (now famous for being the filming location for Downton Abbey) late last August. After a hardcore punk festival I wanted to go to at Bari’s Ex Caserma Liberata venue was cancelled, I decided to take my time, travelling through Laon and Oyannax in France, as well as various towns in Emilia Romagna, and after San Marino, Vasto and the Gargano National Park. However, this time, things were more urgent and with an overnight ferry from The Hook of Holland (France was a no-go due to the strict Covid restrictions still in place there) booked for Sunday evening, I had just four days to complete the journey.
My final evening in Bari for a while.
On average, I spent 5-6 hours each day driving fast on the motorway. The Italian leg of the journey was fairly hassle-free (apart from a near-miss with a driver didn’t indicate when changing lane near Milan) but as anyone who has spent any reasonable amount of time in Italy will tell you, their drivers are very aggressive. Most of their motorways (“autostrade”) are only two lanes so invariably, you spend much of your energy checking blind spots and constantly switching between the two. The Slow Lane is populated mainly by lorries, ageing Fiat Unos and the occasional farm vehicle, whereas The Fast Lane is the reserve of a steady stream of hot-headed 4×4 drivers who will appear out of nowhere, drive within touching-distance of your rear bumper and flash their lights until you obviously do the right thing and move over to let them zoom past.
The Swiss motorways were a breath of fresh air initially; super clean, well-maintained and not particularly busy but then everything changed when I started to go through their tunnels. One hour-long queue was shortly followed by another one, and the continual heavy traffic meant that the Swiss part of the trip soon became quite a stressful episode, eventually leading to me having to bed down for the night, unplanned in pricey Lucerne. As well as producing tasty beer, excellent penalty-takers and mid-level luxury cars; it turned out the next day that Germany also does motorways very well. Not only was the autobahn free but fast-moving and I was able make up for lost time after the debacle in Switzerland.
It’s safe to say that my stop-offs of choice were a little unconventional but each place still had a certain charm. See below for quick city guides to Foggia, Cervia, Lucerne and Mannheim.
Night one: Foggia
Poor old Foggia gets a bad press. Officially “Italy’s hottest city”, it’s located in the middle of the arid and flat ‘Tavoliere’ plain in Puglia – known as “the granary” of the country.
It suffered large-scale bomb damage during WWII and as a result its “centro storico” is a lot smaller than other similar cities. Foggia also has something of a reputation as a m****a haven and several Pugliese, including a teacher I know, urged me to give it a miss. Indeed; it has been described by some newspapers as an “underworld battleground”.
Foggia actually seemed fine to me. The city’s old town was a lot smaller than Bari’s but still had some impressive architecture and its imposing cathedral “duomo”. The lively Via Arpi (the city’s oldest street) was darkly-lit and a little run-down but had a lot of interesting restaurants, bars and even the odd tattoo parlour. I was also privileged enough to witness not one, but two trademark Foggia blackouts. Luckily power was restored quickly.
All in all, not a city you would necessarily want to go to on your honeymoon (or even stag do), but I found it interesting enough to at least whet my appetite for a long weekend (perhaps when Calcio Foggia 1920 next play SSC Bari at Stadio Pino Zaccheria). Osteria La Giara was a very good family-run restaurant serving traditional Pugliese dishes and Quarto Novo was an immaculately clean B&B in the city centre with helpful staff.
A snapshot of Foggia including the ancient Via Arpi, the city’s cathedral, Fontana del Sele and Teatro Giordano.
Night two: Cervia
This was my third visit to Cervia on the coast of Emilia-Romagna (I spent some time there last summer, as well as nearby Ravenna, Rimini, Cesenatico and Forlì). It’s one of my favourite small towns in Italy and was an ideal stop-off for my second night on the road.
Cervia’s fortunes historically revolved around its nearby salt pans (known locally as “sweet salt”) and Leonardo da Vinci is said to have designed the network of canals at neighbouring Cesenatico. Cervia hosts an annual Salt Festival early every September and I took a couple of bags back home with me last year.
Cervia has two main parts to it. There is the picturesque canal-side area flanked by bars and restaurants, where the colourful gold and maroon sails of the barges moored there have become a symbol of the town. Then there is the area near the beach which resembles more of a typical Italian seaside town a la Rimini. It isn’t quite as refined here as the area surrounding the canal but the beach is great for swimming (I took a dip here at 8pm after a long day of driving) and accommodation is a little cheaper (expect mid-century concrete tower blocks though).
On the night I stayed in Cervia, I was very lucky to see the city’s orchestra performing for free in Piazza Garibaldi, accompanied by some local opera singers. The red mullet and tomato strozzapreti at I Vinai was damn good too.
The main canal in Cervia, its vast, sandy beach and the open-air concert by its city band at Piazza Garibaldi, 29.07.21.
Night three: Lucerne
Even though it’s only a few hours from Como and the Northernmost part of Italy, the culture in Switzerland couldn’t be more different. Everything is pristine, the people went out of their way to be polite and friendly and efficiency is the name of the game. The downsides; Lucerne is not a wallet-friendly city (a Covid test cost me €110) and for all its beautiful lakes and mountains, things can feel a little clinical here. A lesser-known fact about Lucerne is that as well as its medieval architecture and famous 14th century Chapel Bridge, Lucerne is also known for producing high-quality violins.
I stopped in Lucerne after a frustrating day; 11 hours in the car, thunderstorms, heavy holiday traffic, numerous tailbacks and a hotel that had overbooked itself. On my 8.30pm arrival at the city centre branch of a well-known international budget hotel I was told by its manager that unfortunately there had been an error with my booking but they had found another room for me in Kriens, essentially an industrial estate on the edge of the city. Not ideal to say the least but I checked in and after a quick train ride, I was back into the city centre.
Lucerne is generally a genteel city but on Friday night the locals were boisterous and seemed to know how to enjoy themselves (the drinks were flowing). In particular, the area just south of the main train station was full of hip bars and restaurants and Das Schwarze Schaf was a lively spot with DJs and live music.
18 hours in Lucerne…
Night four: Mannheim
Mannheim is a city with a population of around 300,000 in the Rhine-Neckar region of Germany. Most of the city was razed to the ground during WWII, leaving only a small number of older buildings. However, unusually for Germany, the new city was then rebuilt in a grid layout with each street being given a letter and a number, rather than a name (for example, M1, N2, Q3), giving it a somewhat dystopian feel.
Initially Mannheim seemed like a slick, modern city dominated by the lush park and rose garden surrounding its 19th century water tower in the city centre and its university which is situated in the old Mannheim Palace. However, as night fell and I made my way towards the docks and the hip Jungbusch district; Turkish restaurants and hookah bars stood side-by-side with shebeen-style drinking dens and arty cafes and bars that wouldn’t be out of place in East Berlin.
At midnight, it felt like things were just warming up for the night ahead (given the long drive ahead of me the next day, I decided to avoid temptation). Special mentions to Kurfürst am Markt for some hearty traditional German food (the staff spoke no English so I had to wrack my brains to remember my GCSE in German – the schnitzel was immense) and Café Vienna; a laidback, lo-fi literature bar that was full of arts students gearing up for a night out. You could do a lot worse than spending a long weekend in Mannheim.
Mannheim’s famous water tower and surrounding garden, the baroque palace and some of the sights of its Jungbusch area.
Night five: The Hook of Holland
After powering my way through Germany; the final Dutch leg of the trip was pretty straightforward (apart from not being able to navigate the high-tech bathroom at a service station near Eindhoven) and I arrived at The Hook of Holland ferry port around 8.30pm for a 10pm boat to Harwich, Essex. It’s a tiny port compared to Dover so we able to board the Stena Britannica straight after checking in. The boat was an hour and a half delayed setting sail worryingly, due to “technical issues in the engine room” but after we eventually left Holland around 11pm things went smoothly for the remaining seven hours. The passengers on the boat were a curious mix of truckers enjoying a post-drive beer and families making their way to the UK; the word on the street was that the exclusive ‘Truckers-only Bar’ was the place to be on the ship.
I’ll be embarking on a reverse journey at the end of the month, perhaps spending more time in Germany and Lichtenstein so let’s see where I end up then…
The sun setting at The Hook of Holland and our early morning arrival at Harwich.