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Published: October 4th 2010
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TODAY:I'm in Bari now, just a short train ride from Taranto, but I'm suddenly back in civilization with information booths at the train station and internet at the hotel. Of course, it's more expensive, but for these last 4 days, I'm willing to pay.
YESTERDAY'S ENTRY: Against my better judgment, I hooked up with a nice woman from Poughkeepsie, NY and rode in her grand, air conditioned rental car to Le Castella, (“Le” in front of “Castella” looks like a mistake since you’d expect La Castella, but its name is actually Le Castella for no explainable reason).Abandoning my bus routine was a mistake since I could’ve gotten there just fine by “Pullman,” as they call busses here. I won’t go into details, but other than seeing “Le Castella,” she and I weren’t on the same page—she wanted to scour the tourist shops for presents for friends back home and eat in a high end restaurant I thought (but didn’t say) looked like a rip-off to me, its only draw being that it looked out on the castle and the sea. We wound up leaving most of the nondescript food, for which I paid 44 euros since I said I’d treat. We
did have one fun wrong turn where I couldn’t believe the directions people were giving me for getting back on the highway. They said something like, “Go through the gate at the nursery and turn left at the big tree.” Finally, a woman led us in her car, and yes, we went through the gate next to the nursery and made a left at a big tree that took us down a very improbable one lane dirt road that led right onto the highway. Since the car lady was going back to Catanzaro and I was going on to Crotone to catch a train to Taranto, she dropped me off in front of a hotel where I’d already determined there’d be a bus at 2:40, giving me plenty of time to catch my 4 o’clock train. Just to make sure, I asked again at the hotel.
This time, the desk clerk tells me the bus stops down the road at the supermarket and is due at 6 pm, not 2:40. OK. I can adjust. I meander, no need to rush, to the supermarket that’s closed. I deposit myself in the only scrap of shade I can find and open my
book to read. At 4 o’clock, I glance up from my book to see a bus going by in the opposite direction. I jump up and start waving frantically. He signals he’ll be back around. iI watch some old men passing the mid day playing cards in a park across the street. Sure enough, he shows back up 15 minutes later, takes me to Crotone, and drops me off where I can catch a city bus to the train station. At the advice of a couple who’re also going to the train station and are desperate to get there fast so as not to miss their train, I jump on a bus the driver tells us goes near the station. He’ll let us know where to get off he says. After what seems like too long to me, I ask him if he’s forgotten us. He has, but only by about 4 blocks. The couple, younger than me, head off running. I follow at a slower pace since I know I’ve missed by train. Later, I find them at the station, all relaxed and happy—their train got delayed and they didn’t miss it after all, which was very lucky since
It’s rare for a train to be late. Mussolini supposedly made the trains run on time, and they still do even though he’s not here to take the credit. I grab a ham and cheese sandwich to make up from what I didn’t eat at the restaurant and get on the train at 6 pm which puts me into Taranto at 9:30 pm, a bit late for finding a place to stay.
Once on the train, I ride standing for about an hour with the window open looking out at the Ionian Sea with grape vineyards filing the space between the train and the sea whenever there was a piece of land wide enough for it that wasn’t occupied with beach homes. The numerous shells of unfinished buildings along the shore make me think the economy isn’t all that good. Another hint on the bad economy is everyone asking me if there’s work in the states.
Arriving in Taranto at 9:30 at night without a hotel reservation made me a little nervous, but as usual, I was saved by a bus driver who took me to a place to stay, in this case, a youth hostel that wasn’t picky about
age. However, walking up the two long sets of stairs made me wish for youth, but the room was way worth the climb—nice shower, very clean, window out onto a courtyard where kids were playing. Nice to go to sleep to kid sounds drifting in a window on a summer night. Reminded me of playing outside after dark in Missouri when I was a kid.
So I decided, you win some and you lose some. The car trip was a downer, but the castle was great. The view from the train smoothed my ruffled feathers, but then I had to hunt down a place to stay. While all these misadventures turned out OK, I had the feeling I’d pushed my luck too often. I decided for the rest of the trip to plan more. Actually I’d already started down that path, making reservations and buying train tickets for the remainder of the trip. Thanks to my sister, I even know where I’ll eat in Bari.
SUNDAY IN TARANTO: Yes, you win some and you lose some, and then sometimes you win the lottery when you didn't even buy a ticket. Taranto is like winning the Lottery. I got on a
bus this morning to go back to the train station to exchange my Bari-Rome ticket—they sold me a ticket for the wrong day which seems to happen often in smaller cities. When I got on the bus, I asked how much to pay. That started a heated argument among the passenger about how much I should pay. They finally decided no charge since it was only a few blocks. The bus driver seemed to agree.
A I’m walking back, I see a group of people gathered in a parking lot. At first I think it’s some sort of protest which might be interesting. Then I notice the cool cars. It’s an antique car gathering. Next to it are some fishermen mending nets the same way Art's mother used to mend nets when she fished on the Columbia with her dad in the 30s. Later I run across a motorcycle gathering in a different square. I stop for coffee and read about a blessing of the animals that’s to take place at a church later in the afternoon. What does this say about planning? All the fun stuff seems to just happen, but still I'm committed to trying to plan--promise, scout's
honor!
Turns out that Taranto has started a kind of Sunday festival where everything is open for the day, which explains why all the produce and fish street markets were open, and perhaps why the car and motorcycle show.
Before going to the Blessing of the Animals, I ate a restaurant attached to the hostel, La Locanda. Great food, nice wine, moderate prices, and friendly people. I’ll let the photos speak for the Blessing of the Animals. Suffice it to say, it was chaos with about forty dogs, five or six cats, several birds, and even a hamster.
I addeed a lock to the other "Locks of Love" on the bridge. You're supposed to kiss your man and then put the lock on to show you're committed forever. So, Art, consider yourself kissed and locked in.
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Anita
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Ground covered
You sure are getting to see many different places in Italy, however I always forget how close together everything is. I am looking forward to hearing more when you get to Seattle. I hope you like Bari as much as Mel and I did. I sent your blog link to Alice.