Puglia, Italy – Friday, April 23rd to Sunday, April 25th
It’s sometimes easy to forget that political borders do not always represent cultural borders. That’s definitely true in the United States where the gulf between Red States and Blue States seems to grow deeper with each passing election, at least if you get your information from cable news. Such a cultural divide is just as, if not more true in Italy, where the distinction between north and south being extreme in some circumstances. Differences in accents? Try differences in language. The north is very affluent, conservative, and always on time. The south is much poorer, casual, and everyone operates an hour behind schedule. Oh, and the Italian government has virtually no control over the organized crime that essentially governs the entire southern end of the peninsula.
That’s not to say one lifestyle is inherently better than the other (for many Southern Italy represents the Mediterranean dream while the North is too cold and businesslike), just that both need to be experienced to understand the complete picture that is Italy. Just beware of increased crime rates while visiting. Although the mafia will generally leave tourists alone (they’re how they make their money, after all) with little effective police force street crime is still prevalent; a friend who visited Napoli for a day alone reported that he was twice followed by a stranger for well over an hour, but thankfully they eventually left him alone.
Aside from the organized school tour to Pompeii I didn’t have much exposure to Southern Italian culture. I tried to organize a weekend trip to Palermo, Sicily, as we had been told that seeing Sicily was essential to seeing Italy,
but between schoolwork and spring break plans it feel through and never got picked back up. However, as the southeastern coast was host to two of Italy’s four full-sized amusement parks (at least where any halfway decent coasters were involved) I was able to motivate resources to get to the lesser visited Adriatic port town of Bari (nearby where the ‘heel’ on the boot begins) for a weekend, although alas I would once again be traveling solo. Here’s to hoping I’m able to steer clear of the mafia!
The train ride there took the better part of a day since a large chunk of the route was out of service and replaced with a charter bus. The landscape out the windows was quintessentially Italian: miles of olive trees and grape vines over the hills with occasional small terracotta cottages with red clay
shingles appearing between the random palm tree and ruined stone wall. The contrast when I first stepped off the train at Bari Centrale was therefore a bit of a letdown, as I was presented with a very grey, “modernized” (by 1970’s standards) city of only moderate stature, slightly dirty. As I had few formal plans for what to see in the city, I started by wandering around the urban city center for a while as the skies threatened rain and the winds on the coast blew up choppy water. When the skies did open up I stumbled my way around the city, pathetically refusing an umbrella from every street merchant insisting my jacket hood was sufficient until I found someplace that seemed inviting enough for a single traveler to eat. Thankfully the woman behind the counter spoke very articulate English so I was able to hold a friendly conversation on what to do in the city and what unique dishes I could try. The first question was answered with an exploration of Barivecchia (aka Old Bari) later at night, which I was told was where the activity and night life would be. The second question was answered with a slab of bruschetta and an extremely satisfying lasagna-esque confection filled to the brim with unusual cheeses, meats and plantlife, and it suffices to say was quite unlike anything I would have been able to order at the Olive Garden. After lunch it was finally time to check into my hostel,
which I had the good judgment to pay a bit extra for a single room. Far from first class accommodations but there’s a certain charm to hostel living when the owners instructions don’t involve how to properly call room service or how to use the satellite TV but rather how to properly jam the door fully shut so the dog doesn’t get in at night… mercifully this was also one of the only places I stayed in all of Europe that actually had the wireless internet that was advertised. As the heavens continued to pour and I was warmed by the radiation of free wireless signals, this first day was mostly spent indoors. Finally as the sun was setting weather began to clear and I was feeling guilty for spending all my time thus far that day surfing the IMDb, so I zipped my coat, packed my camera and map, and set off for an independent nighttime walking
tour of the city.
While my first impressions of a gray and gloomy city were not too positive, there was a different presence at night. New Bari had many modern glass commercial buildings with plenty of clean shops that were all dark and shuttered by the time I got there. But then the moment I stepped across the expansive avenue Corso Vittorio Emanuele II which separates New Bari on the interior from Old Bari on a seaside peninsula, I entered an entirely different world.
Barivecchia is a tangled maze of narrow cobbled streets crisscrossing between whitewashed medieval churches and buildings. The Basilica di San Nicola (aka the Santa Claus Church)
is one of the major landmarks, as are the Cattedrale di San Sabino and the medieval Swabian Castle (Castello Svevo) with several odd modern art exhibits set up around it, but a place like Barivecchia isn’t visited for landmarks, it’s a state of mind with all the deepest unmapped corners beckoning to be explored. The houses illuminated by streetlamps in a golden glow with carnival lights strung over the streets between the hanging clotheslines made it a photographer’s paradise. However the Old Town was far from the festa I had been told to expect, the streets were positively deserted, and all that could be heard were the click-clack of my own shoe soles against cobbled brick paths and the distant crashing of waves against the coastline. Occasionally the conversation of people who were clearly not tourists would cut through the air, and bearing in mind that less than a decade ago this area was an official No-Go Zone due to the uncontrollable crime, I would be lying through the teeth if I said the stroll was a totally serene one. Deadly beautiful, this dreamscape of a silent city was as much the setting of fantasy as it was of nightmares.
After completing an afternoon a few miles north at Miragica the next day I determined to take another stroll along the Bari coast. The weather was much fairer this day and I wasn’t the only one to have taken notice of this, as many of the locals were out to enjoy the springtime seaside air as well. The tour started with a long walk down the coast (at one point I had a “ciao bello” directed at me; uh huh, maybe when you’re out of junior high, girls)
and my iPod set to the Italian prog rock symphonies of Premiata Forneria Marconi and Locanda Delle Fate at their most melodic and beautiful. As the sun began to set I turned around and found my way back to Barivecchia, and unlike the previous night where I could hear a pin drop on the other side of town, tonight the streets were abuzz with Italians of all ages and backgrounds. Was it just because it was Saturday, or did it have something to do with the huge gathering around the Basilica di San Nicola as the tower bells rang continuously for nearly a half hour while a mysterious ceremony (mysterious to this non-native outsider, at least) saw two statues of religious figures slowly marched out of the church and loaded into a glass box in back of a truck. Perhaps someone with more knowledge of Catholic Church ceremonies can explain exactly what I witnessed from the following videos?
My third day of the weekend excursion was mostly spent further south at Zoosafari Fasanolandia, but upon my return to Bari I discovered that my train back to Rome had been entirely replaced starting from Bari Centrali with a bus service which I had failed to be properly notified of. Replacement with a later service that evening (conveniently for only €15 more) meant I had a few more hours to kill in Bari. I spent it sitting on the beach reading about cosmology and grand unification theory between watching the waves crash against the breakers across the Adriatic Sea. Not what I intended to be doing with that time when I planned my trip, but I think it was a successful weekend regardless.
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