We arrived in Bari on April 24, our first stop in the Puglia region. This part of Italy was somewhat neglected by tourists until this past decade, and still is not heavily traveled, yay for us! After checking in at our hotel, we set out to wander the streets, find the harbor with the longest seaside promenade in Europe, and then a good meal. We wandered through alley ways, down the orrichette street where women make and sell this little piece of pasta, famous in Bari, and got lost over and over.
Our kind of wandering. We settled on a dinner place and chose the local pasta, orrichette and mussels. I also had a Campari and soda, an Italian drink through and through. After dinner, we managed to find our way back to our room and did a little research for the next day. First we discovered Panificio Fiore, the oldest restaurant in Bari, dating back to 1508. We must try their focaccia. Second, we found a walking tour with a local, and what a tour it turned out to be. Next morning, we had our bearings about us (maps open on my phone) and headed to try the focaccia.
The internet didn't lie. It was the best EVER. (So good that before we left the next day we went and had another slice after breakfast.) Then onward to meet our guide, Pasquale, who turned out to be a wealth of information.
Did you know the bones of Saint Nicolas, now the patron saint of Bari, were stolen from Venice back in the early 1080's and taken to Bari to be placed in the Basilica di San Nicola? What's interesting about relics all across Europe, housed in cathedrals, churches, basilica's of all kinds, is how many times I ran across repeats. Back before widespread communication, gathered from travelers, books, newspapers and now the internet, a congregation could believe anything. (My favorite relic of all was in Siena, the HEAD of Saint Catherine. No pictures allowed. Oh, and they have a finger too.) Anyhoo...we loved the tour.
We kissed under the arch that means our love will last forever. But then we already knew that. What really made this day so special though, was that April 25 is Liberation Day in Italy and it is a HUGE holiday. All the families were out.
Every restaurant was full. We were turned away from our first choice, and at our second choice, a man came in behind us as we waited for the host and made it clear he was getting seated first. As we turned around to leave we saw he was followed by a huge family group with five baby carriages. We were more than happy to let him have his way. At our next choice we were seated and had a delicious meal with a fantastic bottle of white wine. What I loved that day, was how special it was to the Italians. It commemorates the victory of the Italian resistance movement against Nazi Germany and the Italian Social Republic. Europe takes their holidays connected to WWII seriously, something Americans can't really relate to, and I hope never have to.
That evening, as we walked through the "new town" (new means it was only two-three hundred years old) we realized that we could not pass as Italian because neither of us was smoking, we weren't wearing leather or a puffer jacket, we weren't walking a dog, and last but not least, we weren't pushing a bambino in a stroller. Seriously, there is a huge baby explosion going on in Italy.
Our last morning in Bari, I walked around the harbour and down the promenade a bit. It's a beautiful spot. I also saw the fishermen coming in and/or working on their nets.
This day, we were headed to Matera (not officially part of Puglia region, though used to be) and though we've driven in Europe many times in the past, including wrong side of the road, UK, we generally avoid driving now. We opt for trains, planes, and ocassional busses. But drive we must. Here's a few more photos for you.
I love the octopus in this mosaic.
Don't they look like they're having a discussion and the three on the left think the guy on the right is a bit crazy?
This is a men's club of somekind. We saw several. They are playing a game. Not sure what, but it requires a lot of loud yelling and lots and lots of beer.
Next week, Matera.
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Ciao!
Jane
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