Salerno, Italy

I'm back down south again. Just keeping you all on your toes.

Amalfi, Positano, Sorrento. As well as being generic Italian restaurants from my younger days, they're also hugely popular tourist destinations, close to each other on Italy's south-west coast. But I've had my fill of tourist destinations recently, so I skipped them all and came to Salerno instead.

I read up on a bit of history before embarking on this trip. Salerno was where Allied forces made their first landing, from Sicily, on the Italian mainland in 1943. It was then for a time in 1944 the official capital of free Italy, while the Germans were still occupying Rome. Switching sides mid-war left a lot of people high and dry, and the reprisals were terrible, not just from the Germans but between Italians themselves. In some cases the Nazi collaborators got what they deserved; in many others it was just opportunistic score-settling. It's hard to avoid drawing uncomfortable parallels with what must be going on in Syria right now.

A short way out of Salerno to the east, there's a cemetery which holds the graves of 1,851 soldiers from the UK and Commonwealth. The cemetery is directly managed by the UK government, specifically the Commonwealth War Graves Commission. It's a lovely quiet spot, carefully maintained, with mountains to the north-east and the blue Tyrrhenian Sea rippling gently to the south-west. It's also rather isolated, with no built-up areas or train stations nearby, and getting there involves a rattly 40-minute bus ride. I had the cemetery entirely to myself for a protracted wander around on a sunny December morning. 1,742 of the headstones bear names and ages and regiments, but there are also 109 with an inscription noting only that the young man's name is 'known unto God'.

Obviously I spend most of my travels eating and drinking to excess, and making undiplomatic observations about the locals. But there are occasional serious moments too, and none more so than being here and seeing so many gravestones bearing the emblem of the Durham Light Infantry. It made me very contemplative indeed to imagine myself having been born just 50 years earlier than I was. Never forget.

The town of Salerno itself is perhaps a bit rough and ready, but I don't mind that, and anyway it's still a lot more civilised than Naples. Also most of the people seem to be actually Italian and that wouldn't have been the case in Amalfi or wherever. 

My blog has been a bit behindhand of late, which is why the updates are now coming thick and fast while I get caught up. Only one more to go after this.

Looking east early in the morning. This looks like a panorama picture, but it isn't

Rusting relics of seaside glory. Reminds me of home and makes me happy. 

Salerno's 11th century cathedral, at sunset

Some corner of a foreign field

Christmas procession in the old town

Piazza Flavio Gioia

Edd vs Food #147
Poke bowl at Hello Poke
Sweet potatoes, purple cabbage, feta cheese, red onion, spicy mayo, crispy onion bits.
Basmati rice underneath.

San Marino

When I went to the Vatican City last month, I set a new record for my shortest-ever visit to a foreign country. Judging from the timestamps on my photos, it was literally 20 minutes or so. San Marino gets a silver medal, because I was there for about an hour and a half.

I went to San Marino solely in order to be able to say that I've been to San Marino, and thus to inflict this completely pointless blog upon you all. I knew nothing about the place before arriving, and I can't say I learned much while there, other than that the main bit of it sits on top of a mountain, with a handy cable car. So let's fall back on Google...

It's the world's oldest surviving republic. The population is officially 33,642. (Roughly equivalent to three council wards in Sunderland. Pallion & Millfield & Barnes, or something like that.) It's not in the EU, and I suspect the main reason is that there's no way the big EU states would want to hand veto powers to 33,642 people. Currently the EU member with the smallest population is Malta, which does at least boast a population of half a million.

San Marino's football team started competing officially in 1990. Harry Kane has scored more goals against San Marino than any other country he's played against. They've only ever won three games, all of them against Liechtenstein (population: 39,584). Must be galling for the Liechtenish or whatever they call themselves. People from San Marino are officially called sammarinese.

Well, anyway, thanks for reading.

View to the north-west

View to the west

Statue Of Liberty

Looking at the Third Tower from the Second Tower

Edd vs Food #146
Cheesy chili hot dog from, er, a stall.

Bologna & Modena, Italy

Italy, like Britain, has a marked north/south divide. And in Italy, as in Britain, you're better off staying up north. Fortunately, in Italy, unlike in Britain, you can travel all the way between south and north by rail - at high speed and in first class - at short notice without spending too much money. Those Frecciarossa trains are just blissful and I shall miss them painfully when I go home.

I spent a week here in Bologna. Modena was only a day trip, but I've included it in the title of the blog because we've all heard of it, even if it's only from the labels on bottles of balsamic vinegar. Both cities have really attractive central areas: prosperous without being snooty, and interestingly historic without being overrun by tourists.

The one drawback of coming back up north is that winter is starting to bite and I didn't pack any warm clothes before flying out in October. So I went to a second-hand shop and picked up a jumper for 12 euros. When they rang it through the till, the screen said FELPA DONNA, which means "women's sweatshirt", and I was too embarrassed to ask. The label is inconclusive. I don't think it looks particularly effeminate and I haven't caught anybody laughing at me yet. Let's see if this continues when I wear it back in the UK.

Part of the reason for me not querying my gender-fluid garment was that I still speak almost no Italian after nearly two months in the country. But I can understand quite a bit of what I read & hear, thanks to my Spanish. (It's funny how a lot of Italians say they speak no Spanish, and vice versa, given that so many words and even sentences are basically the same between the two languages. Examples here.) As a side note, I like how the Italian word for 'children' is bambini - it seems almost too cute to be true. 

I get plenty of listening practice when I'm out and about because, and let's be frank here, Italians are loud. In my Naples apartment, the only time my neighbours stopped shouting at each other was when they were asleep. Of all the world's nationalities, I think Italians have benefited most from the invention of the mobile telephone, because it means they can keep on yelling even when they're alone. Booking the silenzio coach on the train was always a doomed hope, but then that's what noise-cancelling headphones are for.

Bologna obviously can't compare with Rome or Florence for historical interest, but of all the cities I've visited so far on this trip, I think it's definitely the most liveable. It also represents a bit of a culinary pilgrimage for me, because bolognese was the pizza topping that capped off my very earliest drunken teenage escapades. Destiny brought me here. And of course anywhere is better than Naples.

Bologna: looking south towards the Piazza Maggiore from the Parco della Montagnola

Bologna: the twin Towers (12th century AD)

Bologna: looking south at sunset from the Torre dell'Orologio

Bologna: looking east at sunset from the Torre Dell'Orologio, over the Piazza Maggiore

Bologna: porticoes leading downhill from the Santuario della Madonna di San Luca

Modena Cathedral (on a very rainy day)

Palazzo Ducale di Modena (on a very rainy day)

Edd vs Food #144
With grim inevitability, my food update from Bologna is...bolognese.
It's never, ever, ever served with spaghetti.
And they don't call it 'bolognese' here, of course. They just call it ragù.
From a little takeout place named, indeed, Ragu.

Edd vs Food #145
'La Grande Belleza' pizza at L'Antica Pizzeria di Michele in Modena.
Purple cabbage cream, cream of ricotta, crispy prosciutto, basil.

Pompeii & Herculaneum, Italy

That last blog (from Naples) was a bit grumpy, wasn't it? I'm glad to be able to balance things out by reporting that Pompeii and Herculaneum, both just a short ride away from Naples on the commuter train, do absolutely live up to expectations and are a must-see if you're anywhere near this part of the world. Of the two, Pompeii is bigger and more famous and more isolated from the surrounding present-day towns; whereas Herculaneum is better-preserved, generally less crowded, and its smaller size makes it more manageable. Ignore all the online forum chatter about which one to choose. Visit both.

Here, much more so than anywhere in Rome, you can wander around in relative peace and quiet, and imagine what it was like to live here nearly 2,000 years ago. Of course, you have to remind yourself that the ancient Romans didn't live in bleak bare windswept ruins: these places would have been teeming with activity, with men and women and children, plus pets and livestock, and all the sounds and smells of everyday life, right up until that moment in 79AD when the sky went black and Vesuvius began releasing molten rock and hot ash at the rate of 1.5 million tons every second. 

We have a first-hand account of the eruption from Pliny the Younger and it makes for sobering reading. Our understanding of exactly what happened to the residents of Pompeii and Herculaneum (other than the very few who escaped in time) is still evolving, but basically when you're engulfed in a pyroclastic cloud, the cause of death is not being burned but being cooked. It's quick, but not necessarily instantaneous.

Apologies for renewing the gloomy mood. Still, it puts Storm Darragh into perspective, if you'll forgive me for saying so. I trust you're all unscathed back in the UK. Meanwhile I still have a few more places to check out before going home for Christmas.

Pompeii: the Basilica

Pompeii: the Grand Theatre

Pompeii

Pompeii: House of the Vettii

Pompeii: this isn't an actual body, it's a plaster cast of one. 
The archaeologists filled in the gaps in the volcanic ash.

Herculaneum: College of the Augustales

Herculaneum: the last hiding place

View from the south-west corner of Herculaneum

Helpful guidance from the authorities at Herculaneum.
That's me told.

Edd vs Food #143
Pizza with beef, red peppers and potato at Le Delizie, Pompeii

Naples, Italy

Italy is often regarded as being in the shape of a boot, with the toe pointing south-west towards Sicily. But Naples is on the west coast, which makes me think that the 'boot' must be on backwards. Because Naples is truly the arsehole of Italy.

The metaphor works on more than one level. Neapolitan streets are strewn with faeces. I haven't done this much pedestrian poop-dodging since my childhood, in the days before dog-walkers carried plastic bags. But it's not just dogs that are to blame. Naples contains many homeless people, and few public toilets.

Turds are not the only hazard underfoot. Almost all of the roads and pavements are decades overdue for resurfacing. Sometimes there's no pavement at all. Crossing the street is like playing a simultaneous triple game of chicken, Frogger, and Russian roulette. Litter is everywhere. Even in the most degraded American downtowns, I've never seen junkies openly shooting up in broad daylight, but I broke that particular duck here.

I managed to cobble together some turd-free photos of the relatively nicer parts and that's what you see in the pictures below. Plus mainland Europe's only active volcano. I would have liked to climb Vesuvius - it's about the same height as Ben Nevis - but unfortunately the summit can only be reached as part of a guided tour, and that's not how I roll. Anyway, I've left Naples now, so if the volcano goes off again and turns the whole place into a smoking moonscape, that'll be just fine with me. Arrivederci.

Naples seen from afar (best way of seeing it)

Piazza Giovanni Bovio

A rainy day in the old town

Piazza Gian Battista Vico

Galleria Umberto I

Cheap AirBnB apartment

Edd vs Food #142
Moroccan couscous, chicken & vegetables
At Red Marrakech, Via Santa Chiara 7, Naples

Rome, Italy

They used to say that all roads lead to Rome. It's not true any more, but fortunately the A1 autostrada does still lead to Rome, and it was a pleasant 2.5 hour coach trip down from Siena on Flixbus. Flixbus are like National Express or Megabus back home, except that they turn up on time and it's only the toilet that smells like piss. Also, when you buy one ticket you get a discount on a second, which is an irresistible incentive for a grumpy old git like me to buy a double seat and indulge in some legally & morally justified man-spreading.

Anyway, Rome. I'm indifferent to the overhyped romantic associations of the place (think Gregory Peck and Audrey Hepburn zipping about on a scooter in 'Roman Holiday'). Still less am I interested in the prospect of a geriatric white-robed Argentinian communist being wheeled out onto a balcony to wave at me. But as with Florence a couple of weeks ago, and as with Athens six years ago, this is one of those places with too much history to ignore.

I suppose part of me was unconsciously expecting the Flixbus to trundle into Rome under vast stone arches, with crowds of plebeians and kneeling gladiators and toga-clad tribunes all hailing me as I passed. But soon enough reality imposed itself when we arrived at Rome's distinctly dingy Tiburtina bus station on a grey afternoon in late November. If you'd parachuted me in there blindfolded, my best guess would have been that I was in one of the less affluent former Warsaw Pact countries. But obviously once you get into the city centre, there's no mistaking where you are. 

It's quite eye-opening to see just how old everything is. For example, work first began on the Colosseum in the year VII, ie 7AD. At least those Roman numerals are easy to figure out. When I was a kid, the BBC closing credits always ended with MCMLXXXVIII or what have you. Really the ancient Romans had it easy. But it's no wonder they never figured out long division.

From the Colosseum I headed a short way north-west and found myself ticking off country number two of this trip, and country number sixty-one (I think) of my life to date. Specifically, the Vatican City. For the avoidance of doubt, yes it is 100% a country, and the world's smallest country at that. So small - and apologies for repeating here a fact from my 2016 blog - that it would all fit inside the Indy 500 racetrack.

Rome was always on my bucket list and I'm glad I came. That said, the city centre is just too manic for my tastes, even at this time of year. All those souvenir shops and ticket touts and street hawkers and pimps. All those signs everywhere advertising 'hop on hop off' (that's the ticket touts, not the pimps). There's no escaping the crowd of box-ticking tourists, no matter where you go. All you can do is join the crowd. Well, when in Rome, and all that.

Vittoriano

Forum

Circus

Colosseum

St Peter's Basilica in the Vatican City
"Religion...
That vast moth-eaten musical brocade
Created to pretend we never die"
Philip Larkin, 'Aubade'

Castle and bridge of St Angelo, built by the emperor Hadrian

Juturna temple

Pantheon

Aqueduct in the south-eastern suburbs