Week 10: Things
14 September - 20 September: Croatia - Italy
Trulli huts are these odd, prehistoric structures that are dotted all around Puglia. There’s a village, Istra, I think it’s called, that has loads of them in town. But we didn’t go there. We just saw mile after mile of enchanting olive grove, and every now and then, was one of these huts. Magical, as if they had sprouted out of the blue just for us.
We took a ferry from Dubrovnik, Croatia to Bari, in Italy. We got a bed and the camper had a garage stay. But it was no ´Loveboat´ (remember that tv show?). It was a scary, rusting, smelly ship. The cabin was not big enough to swing a cat in, or a kitten, let alone a rat (which could have been found on board, I reckon). I started to be seasick about 10 minutes into watching ´12 Angry Men´ on our laptop, and Edwin was worried it´d be an extra gross trip for him, mopping up my mess. But I popped a pill, and slept for 8 hours. We made it to Italy, me green faced, yes, but okay.
We had originally aimed to make it to Greece, but it was not possible given the rate of our travel. So we did the next best thing, and visited Paestum. This is a place a little south of Naples that is the proud home of some of the best preserved ancience Greek ruins. There you can find several Grecian temples, the remains of an amphiteatre and various domestic dwellings built by the Romans in a later era. I have a book on ´Daily life in Ancient Rome´. I feel like this trip has become such a historical experience for me, I can´t read enough or learn enough. Paestum is ancient, and it´s weird to be here.
The faun from outside Pompei´s "House of the ... Faun".
Pompei is indeed a vast wonder that you can spend days, perhaps weeks exploring and studying. In a way I wished we´d had more time to go and see Herculaneum, which was better preserved than the ash covered Pompeien ruins we visited, as the ones west of the volcano were actually covered in mud. The textiles there survived, whereas in Pompei they burned. I particularly enjoyed eavesdropping on the tour guides, one from Belgium (so it was in Flemish) where she showed us a fast food `McDonalds´ type hangout for the Romans back in the day, and also the Italian tour group which tested the reverb of an ancient amphitheatre. Always sceptical at first, then surprised in the end, we watched the 35 older gents and nuns have a go at standing where a Roman orator would have stood. Each said something, anything, to test the space. ´Buona sera!´ ´Mi chiama Rosa, oh!´Afterwards, I got up and said simply, `Wow, these acoustics really work!` Not profound, but my audience wasn´t interested. They were off to the next sight – perhaps an ancient roman bakery, a (literally) petrified person, the incredible public baths with undercover heated pool, a villa perhaps or even the local brothel (which was purpose built, mind you! It has a menu of erotic positions in the form of a fresco inside to advertise the services renderable. Saucy, eh?)
Oh, this poor dude who died in Pompei. It was really sad to see.
Here, have a closer look. Argh!
Edwin and I have developed an unhealthy adoration for Italian ceramic or breakable homeware since we have been here. It started with the Murano glass vase, and then it was the Amalfi tassi bowl and now with the oil jug from Assisi … it has to stop, it has to stop!
Gomorra: Read the book, watched the movie (book is better). Where does Roberto Saviano live now? How can he even still be alive? My guess is that the Camorra are loving their international notoriety as it gives them more kudos than the Godfather films ever did, or even Scarface. We have proof of their brutality and rule of law (or lawlessness). This book left me in a daze for days, I still think about it. How a mafia clan can be responsible for arming countries from South America to the Balkans, how they can monopolise the building industry in Italy to the point that waste brokers can dump toxic waste anywhere in Campania that they want with a 80% discount to their clients, how can they be so closely involved with high fashion, those true fakes? What the movie did for me, though, was give it better context. Edwin and I didn’t have time to go into Naples proper, let alone into the suburbs of the book (nor did we really want to). I had a different picture of these mafiosi; certainly not big fat bearded Ginos, wearing shorts and dirty t-shirts. The eloquence of Saviano’s writing is lost in this film, amongst the grime, poverty and despair. The book doesn’t give you hope, but it makes it easier to take in, easier to comprehend. This visual language of Matteo Garrone was too brutal, too hard to stomach.
Trulli huts are these odd, prehistoric structures that are dotted all around Puglia. There’s a village, Istra, I think it’s called, that has loads of them in town. But we didn’t go there. We just saw mile after mile of enchanting olive grove, and every now and then, was one of these huts. Magical, as if they had sprouted out of the blue just for us.
We took a ferry from Dubrovnik, Croatia to Bari, in Italy. We got a bed and the camper had a garage stay. But it was no ´Loveboat´ (remember that tv show?). It was a scary, rusting, smelly ship. The cabin was not big enough to swing a cat in, or a kitten, let alone a rat (which could have been found on board, I reckon). I started to be seasick about 10 minutes into watching ´12 Angry Men´ on our laptop, and Edwin was worried it´d be an extra gross trip for him, mopping up my mess. But I popped a pill, and slept for 8 hours. We made it to Italy, me green faced, yes, but okay.
We had originally aimed to make it to Greece, but it was not possible given the rate of our travel. So we did the next best thing, and visited Paestum. This is a place a little south of Naples that is the proud home of some of the best preserved ancience Greek ruins. There you can find several Grecian temples, the remains of an amphiteatre and various domestic dwellings built by the Romans in a later era. I have a book on ´Daily life in Ancient Rome´. I feel like this trip has become such a historical experience for me, I can´t read enough or learn enough. Paestum is ancient, and it´s weird to be here.
The faun from outside Pompei´s "House of the ... Faun".
Pompei is indeed a vast wonder that you can spend days, perhaps weeks exploring and studying. In a way I wished we´d had more time to go and see Herculaneum, which was better preserved than the ash covered Pompeien ruins we visited, as the ones west of the volcano were actually covered in mud. The textiles there survived, whereas in Pompei they burned. I particularly enjoyed eavesdropping on the tour guides, one from Belgium (so it was in Flemish) where she showed us a fast food `McDonalds´ type hangout for the Romans back in the day, and also the Italian tour group which tested the reverb of an ancient amphitheatre. Always sceptical at first, then surprised in the end, we watched the 35 older gents and nuns have a go at standing where a Roman orator would have stood. Each said something, anything, to test the space. ´Buona sera!´ ´Mi chiama Rosa, oh!´Afterwards, I got up and said simply, `Wow, these acoustics really work!` Not profound, but my audience wasn´t interested. They were off to the next sight – perhaps an ancient roman bakery, a (literally) petrified person, the incredible public baths with undercover heated pool, a villa perhaps or even the local brothel (which was purpose built, mind you! It has a menu of erotic positions in the form of a fresco inside to advertise the services renderable. Saucy, eh?)
Oh, this poor dude who died in Pompei. It was really sad to see.
Here, have a closer look. Argh!
Edwin and I have developed an unhealthy adoration for Italian ceramic or breakable homeware since we have been here. It started with the Murano glass vase, and then it was the Amalfi tassi bowl and now with the oil jug from Assisi … it has to stop, it has to stop!Gomorra: Read the book, watched the movie (book is better). Where does Roberto Saviano live now? How can he even still be alive? My guess is that the Camorra are loving their international notoriety as it gives them more kudos than the Godfather films ever did, or even Scarface. We have proof of their brutality and rule of law (or lawlessness). This book left me in a daze for days, I still think about it. How a mafia clan can be responsible for arming countries from South America to the Balkans, how they can monopolise the building industry in Italy to the point that waste brokers can dump toxic waste anywhere in Campania that they want with a 80% discount to their clients, how can they be so closely involved with high fashion, those true fakes? What the movie did for me, though, was give it better context. Edwin and I didn’t have time to go into Naples proper, let alone into the suburbs of the book (nor did we really want to). I had a different picture of these mafiosi; certainly not big fat bearded Ginos, wearing shorts and dirty t-shirts. The eloquence of Saviano’s writing is lost in this film, amongst the grime, poverty and despair. The book doesn’t give you hope, but it makes it easier to take in, easier to comprehend. This visual language of Matteo Garrone was too brutal, too hard to stomach.
posted by Chasing Paradise at 10:22 AM
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