Sunday, November 30, 2014

Mediterranean 2014 - part twelve


This post combines Cartagena and Cadiz in Spain, and Gibraltar.
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Cartagena, a major Republican naval port, was one of the last cities to fall to Franco. I head to the Museo Refugio de la Guerra Civil, once air raid shelters and now a museum.

Children peeking out after a German aerial attack.



The Germans and Italians were key to Franco's victory. Guernica, the Spanish town devastated by German bombing, was immortalized by Picasso.

The war produced memorable propaganda posters, more creative on the Republican, the government side. 



Although seventy-five years since the war's end and nearly forty since Franco's death, decades of dictatorship remain decisive in democratic Spain. Last year, the Catholic Church, which supported the Fascists and landowning elites, beatified priests and nuns killed by the Republicans.

I emerge from the recounting of 20th Century barbarism to be confronted by a medieval festival.



Irritated eagle? large falcon? What self-respecting bird-of-prey wouldn't be irritated with all these drums, weird dancers and costumes?


Mollified, well, as mollified as an eagle? falcon? can be.

(January 1 - thanks to Don and Brian for suggesting that this may be a Golden Eagle)


I don't know if I like this ...


And meat! I've never seen a barbecue like this, not even in Texas. Good stuff.

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‘There is an idea … that the Rock of Gibraltar looks like a lion …so I suppose it must be due to some deficiency in my powers of observation that to me it appeared like a great slab of cheese …’ (Labels by Evelyn Waugh based on a 1929 voyage)

I've passed and visited Gibraltar a number of times, but not seen it in daylight from the cheese angle with the mountains of Spain beyond. 


iPads and tablets are increasingly popular for photography, but seem unwieldy and likely to be dropped into the Mediterranean.


(December 31 - many thanks to Ron, also from Toronto, for the one shot of me in all these Mediterranean posts!)


A few minutes later, from my cabin as we round Gibraltar's Europa Point.


At the top of the Rock, you can see a gun emplacement ...


... and, clicking on the link below, you'll come to a previous trip with a view from the battery and a wander 'round the top of the Rock. 

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‘The (Cadiz) boatmen, who crowd to land passengers, rival in noise and rascality those of Naples. The common charge is a peseta per person; but they increase their demands in proportion as the wind and waves arise …’ (Murray’s 1845 Hand-Book for Travellers in Spain by Richard Ford quoted by Alan Sillitoe in Leading the Blind)

In Cadiz on Spain's Atlantic coast, modern bow and stern thrusters make boatmen and, to some extent, tugs, redundant. We dock on time and I catch first light. As modern cruise ships go, Maasdam really is quite appealing.


Out early at the churreria. The churro is a popular treat, a fried pastry, usually had with breakfast.



Nearby is a Sunday market. No matter where, flea markets always seem to have the same things. One of the vendors is having a churro.



Along the seawall, people chat ...


... Sunday traffic picks up ...


... and a memory of pansies to sustain me until distant early spring - April - when they appear in Toronto.

Thursday, November 27, 2014

Mediterranean 2014 - part eleven


This post combines Messina and Palermo on Sicily, and Cagliari, Sardinia.
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A few days before Sicily, quite by chance in the ship's library, I find a collection of New York Times photos. One particularly disturbing shot shows the aftermath of a 1986 Mafia murder in Sicily.


Some visitors, influenced by too many viewings of the Godfather, doubtless arrive expecting a so-called 'man of honour' collecting pizzo or protection money on every corner. The Mafia has come under pressure, but a recent BBC report suggests that pizzo is still part of Sicilian life. 

Moments after stepping off Maasdam in Messina, I am asked, not for pizzo, but to inspect a proud owner's restored Fiat 500, the Cinquecento, launched in 1957. 



This encourages me to look for comparative shots of other Messina Fiats, although they turn out to be less immaculate. 



Aside from a pickup, I want one of those retro Fiats. I also want a scooter.



Realizing I am not likely to have a pickup, Fiat or scooter, I sulkily find a cafe and survey the patrons.


An aside: D.H. Lawrence’s Constance Chatterley (L'Amante Di Lady Chatterley) was supposedly inspired by an Englishwoman living near Messina. The lady and a Sicilian farmer are said to have employed olive groves to cavort in the nude. Lawrence & Frieda were on Sicily from 1920 to 1922 and the woman may actually have been Frieda having an affair with a mule driver named Peppino. While in Messina, I see no nude cavorting or mule drivers. Neither do I meet anyone called Peppino.
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However, in Palermo, I do see activities associated with Italian and Sicilian life, football and a demonstration. Outside a school, an impromptu kick of the ball and there's a girl. Not long ago, you would never have seen that in such a traditional society.



Nearby, a protest outside local government offices.


It appears to have something to do with an American base (I'm still trying to decipher a handout). Although riot police sit in buses a few metres away, the demonstration seems to be good-natured and officers have time for a smoke and check of their personal mobiles.




My main task is Palermo is the puppet museum. Sicily has a history of puppet-making and performances. As so often, I am the only person, which seems a pity as the displays are fascinating.




Polyphemus, the one-eyed Cyclops, may have been 'Sicilian'.


From the 1920s, preserved in wood, are Laurel & Hardy and Greta Garbo. 


More sightseeing: the 19th Century Teatro Massimo, steps used for the scene in Godfather 3 in which Don Corleone's daughter is shot.


So, I've simply reinforced the Mafia stereotype.
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Cagliari, Sardinia, and an early morning square to myself. 


A scooter-borne fish seller. 


Wonderful face.


Before I leave Italy, a last Fiat 500, this for tours and illustrating the postwar car's enormous appeal.


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For those particularly interested in Cagliari, below is a link to my previous visit in 2010. The post starts with Trapani in Sicily, which I very much liked, and ends with Cagliari:

Sunday, November 23, 2014

Mediterranean 2014 - part ten


This post combines Civitavecchia (where my friends Kathy & Michael join the ship), Pompeii, Naples and Sorrento.
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Civitavecchia is Rome's much maligned port. Over centuries, millennia, millions have passed through. Few stay. The writer Stendhal, French consul here from 1831 to 1842, apparently thoroughly disliked the town. Augustus Hare in Days Near Rome (1875) said, ’Civita Vecchia (sic) is a place utterly devoid of interest, and in the eyes of those who arrive at Rome by sea, is only connected with much discomfort and an ardent desire to get away'. My 1881 Handbook is adamant: 'There is nothing to detain the traveller ... ' The port was heavily bombed during the war and many older buildings destroyed. 

You would then expect me to leave as hurriedly as possible. No. Having stayed in Rome a number of times, I am determined to avoid the highly skilled pickpockets on the train to the Eternal City. Plus, research indicates Civitavecchia has possibilities, if only the absence of (other) tourists.

I am charmed.







Hey! You wouldn't expect me to leave Italy without a washing shot, would you?

However, even Google doesn't prepare me for one of the trip's highlights. A sidewalk chat - which, not speaking Italian, I don't really understand - takes me into a down-at-heels palazzo in Civitavecchia's small medieval quarter. 



The building is owned by this delightful couple, Tarcisio and Teresa.


The essentials are eventually revealed by hand gestures, referrals to my electronic translator, vaguely understandable Italian words and deduction. Tarcisio bought the building in 1972. While  renovating, he made a discovery.


He had found Renaissance frescoes from the School of Raphael that duplicate paintings in the Vatican. I am left in rooms decorated by a master.



Illustrations show similarities between Tarcisio's frescoes and those in Rome.


I have dutifully inspected some of the world's great art, generally 'mid crowds of like-minded travellers. Rarely (although occasionally privileged as a reporter) have I had great art all to myself. I stand in a shabby, unprepossessing building with washing hanging from the windows and am profoundly moved. 


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From the sublime to the tragic. Forever marked by Vesuvius is Pompeii ...


... Pompeii not of solitary appreciation, but of mass tourism. Visitors have come here since the city's 'modern' discovery in 1748.


I decide not to have my picture taken with a Roman soldier ...


... but ponder the reproduction of a famous Pompeii fresco while going down the stairs to the washroom.


A dog enjoys the late autumn sun in the city's forum.


This mosaic - a battle between Alexander the Great and the Persians - is a reproduction as the original is in a museum. The copy lies in the original position. 


Pompeii is - to me - surprisingly large and it is possible to actually have contemplative moments to oneself. The picture below is in the baths.


A wall painting, which remains in situ.


Only a cast from a cavity created by volcanic fumes and lava, and decomposition ... but two thousand years ago this was a human's last moments. I experience a sudden, uneasy sense of death voyeurism.


Vesuvius, in Naples' suburbs, remains more dangerous than Italy's other major volcanos, Etna and Stromboli. A local tells me, 'The real godfather of Napoli isn't the Mafia. It's Vesuvius. Vesuvius decides everything'. 
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Maasdam has docked in Naples for Pompeii. I take out my camera for a street performer. Buy me dinner and I'll tell you how I think he does it.


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Sunday morning in Sorrento.


 Babbo Natale on his reindeer. 


The bicycle club readies for a run ...


... while this cyclist heads off on his own ...


... carabinieri cheerfully pose, doubtless for the umpteenth time ...


... people stroll and chat (that's Vesuvius on the far side of the bay) ...


... and there are photogenic scooters everywhere (note passenger dog in second shot).



Next stop, Sicily.