Our 2-week stay at Villa Trullo Pinnacolo in the countryside of Pugia was a series of welcomes, reunions, and surprises.  My sister Anne and Trevor and I were ‘in residence’ for the whole fortnight.  The first week revolved around Musgrave family, and in the second week my ‘extended’ family from different parts of the world, all of whom know each other, arrived.

Week 1 - arrival of siblings and cousins at villa Trullo Pinnacolo

Old friends prepare for driving to one of the nearby hill towns for lunch

One of many convivial meals with the Musgraves and Paul

Happy little 'vegemiters'

Frank welcomes the last of the arrivals - Edmundo and Naser

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he ‘Baroness’ von Stieglitz was in real trouble with her ‘companion’ El Duque de Cobos in an impromptu performance of the Tango and Gypsy Rhumba down by our pool at the villa a couple of nights ago.

El Duque de Cobos choreographed the opening sequence of the Latin Dance ‘performance’ and ‘rehearsed’ the Baroness to ensure a flawless ‘performance’ for the august audience of expectant guests. 

However, the sultry, black-veiled ‘Baroness’ was later chastised severely for not following his specific direction to slap him twice with her fan after he boldly pulls the black veil from her face. Later, the ‘Baroness’ confided that it was the two young chefs, with eyes as big as cannonballs (in wonderment or sheer disbelief), who distracted her.

‘Baroness’ Juanita confided later that she was distracted by the two young chefs, with eyes as big as cannonballs (in wonderment or sheer disbelief), who distracted her. during the 'performance'.

Fortunately, for posterity’s sake, Naser suggested that we get some ‘wedding photos’ while it was still light so that we could share the colour of the costumes more clearly.

Fortunately, for posterity’s sake, Naser suggested that we get some ‘wedding photos’ while it was still light so that we could share the colour of the costumes more clearly.

More to come.

y idea of requiring ‘days’ to explore the 17th century city of Lecce in Puglia takes only a couple of hours in reality. Perhaps we are put off by an aborted first attempt in which we circle the town for an hour looking for a parking spot, the heavens open, and we have no choice than to return home again. After some lunch and a couple of beers in the garden, the idea of a siesta becomes all-consuming.

We are staying at Masseria Trapanà, a restored medieval masseria that was once a fortified farmhouse. It’s located a few miles out of Lecce and set amongst sixty hectares of olive groves. Inside the dry-stone walls, it’s an oasis of cool, with manicured gardens and a carpet of green grass miraculously thriving in the shade of an orchard of citrus trees.

Masseria Trapanà, is a restored medieval masseria that was once a fortified farmhouse.

ver the last couple of years, the property has been painstakingly restored and decorated with impeccable taste by Australian expat Rob Potter-Sanders. (I know of only two others who could have conceived such a tasteful, comfortable establishment, with services to match. My old friend, the late David Michôd, and the omnipresent Edmundo.) The unflappable general manager of the masseria, Giuseppe, is there too keeping the operation quietly ticking-over – leaving us to live without a care in the world.

Surprising to discover then Masseria Rob's mother is a good friend of Pam's back in Sydney

We’re very comfortable here from the outset, but an invasive sense of freedom, after the frustrating wasted morning trying to visit Lecce, seals it for us. Any future sightseeing will be considered only as an adjunct to relaxing in the confines of the masseria!

There’s ne’er a thought to get in the car and drive to town in the evenings for dinner either. We are content to ‘stay home’, turning-up at 8.30pm outdoors under the citrus trees for a four course dinner of simple regional cuisine of the chef’s choosing – and for the princely sum of Euro 35. The enthusiastic, ever-smiling Giorgio, Gian-Marco, and Marco serve the drinks and dance attendance on all the guests – as usual.

‘Kicking-back’ is a luxury. We all reach a point where simply being comfortable in our surroundings is more gratifying than constantly being ‘on the go’.

Paul - just 'kicking-back' in the gardens

After sightseeing in Lecce the following week, we return to the Masseria for one of Rob's 'Aussie' hamburgers - with beetroot and pineapple! (I think Juanita may have even eaten the top bun.)

he public areas and guest rooms are simple and contemporary but retain the limestone characteristics of the region including barrel-vaulted ceilings. Light streams into the expansive sitting areas from huge floor to ceiling windows inviting to kick-back comfortably in oversize comfy sofas with a book, or a glass. Who could want for anything more?

The public areas and guest rooms are simple and contemporary but retain the limestone characteristics of the region including barrel-vaulted ceilings.

A view from one of the 'garden rooms' into the 'olive leaf coloured' tiled swimming pool area

Locorotondo appears ethereally as on a cloud floating above the red dirt, olive groves, and trulli (͚hobbit-like͛, conical stone dwellings) that are scattered across the countryside in the Valle d’Itria in Puglia.

It͛s not just another Italian ͚white city͛ on a hill, but one with an obviously proud community in neat white cottages and colourful blooms along the maze of narrow paved alley-ways. centred around the Cathedral church on top of the hill.

Down in the Friday Market in the piazza and streets below the church there͛s a ͚ring-in͛, an aggressive misfit, not of this happy community.

He is selling the most delicious-looking plump porcini mushrooms the size of dinner plates. Shouting obscenities to be understood by any ear, he grabs Paul͛s camera as he attempts to photograph the ͚mushies͛. Paul’s angry response with equally colourful expletives and red face had me as referee to avoid a nasty incident.

olling thunder and lightning strikes that craze the dark morning sky bode ominously for the planned excursion north of Bari to Molfetta and Trani. These are two old seaports on the Adriatic coast recommended by a good Sydney friend, Barbara, who lived in Italy for years.

Rain buckets down all the way and much too heavy even to stop and make a dash for a coffee break. Arriving in Molfetta as the rain eases and squelching all the way along the seafront under an umbrella to the cathedral, we are rewarded with a festa atmosphere to mark the birthday of Our Lady.

Local bishop catches sight of two soaked Australians and beckons us to say hello , even wearing shorts - and photographed by his young priest assistant.

Perchance, the local bishop catches sight of two soaked Australians and beckons us to say hello and to be photographed by one of his young priest assistants. After ͚saying one͛ in front of the relics of the patron saint Corrado, we step otside to find the clouds parted and patches of blue. Palms around the large enclosed harbour and sweeping limestone piazza add a touch of Arabia to this East-facing Italian city.

Arabic touches in the architecture on the piazza next to the harbour in Molfett1

Molfetti and the old city of Trani just up the coast formed part of the historic routes to the Middle East. They are treasure troves of beautifully restored houses, palazzos, churches and streetscapes, and where, in earlier times, Crusaders, Templars, pilgrims gathered.

n Trani, the finely located cathedral is beautifully located on a promontory jutting-out into the Adriatic. It gleams in what is now a sunny afternoon.

Trani Cathedral dedicated to St Nicholas the Pilgrim - a greek shepherd

With so many tempting restaurants to choose from with the promise of freshly caught seafood from colourful trawlers with fishing nets still on the decks that lined the harbour, we pause at what Paul likes – a ͚cheap and cheerful͛. I͛m subjected to a very ͚rustico͛ lunch of ͚baked leftovers͛ at in a hole in the wall establishment next to a statue of an early pilgrim enroute to Rome from Greece that caught Paul͛s imagination. I now count the hours wondering how long it will take for the pile of re-heated mussels, rice, potatoes, tomatoes and rice doused with oil will take to ͚be my undoing.

My idea of days exploring the 17th century city of Lecce in Puglia, located in the heel of the Italian boot, with its buildings all built from pietra lecese, the creamy white local limestonetakes only a couple of hours in reality. 

Michael in Via Palmieri running up to the Piazza Duomo in Lecce - in that itchy 5 Euro 'paper' hat

Pam and Ken, Juanita and Frank in baroque Lecce

In Piazza del Duomo in Lecce, alongside a tall, tapering bell tower, the city’s 17th-century highly-chiseled Baroque edifice - the Duomo with a Greek marble altar decorated with lapis lazuli.

idding arewell to Rome after a short meet-up with Mark and Jenny, we drive for five hours south towards the ‘heel of the boot’ of Italy. We arrive in Basilicata without a hitch (and driver Paul without shoes!), only to be get lost in the narrow streets of the ‘Sassi’ area of Matera where we’re staying the night – in a cave.

Matera, in Basilicata, has a unique legacy that frames a remarkable setting of almost 10,000 years of continuous human occupation. Here, the history of urban ecology, from sustainability to squalor, inspired UNESCO to designate a World Heritage Site, while its old Jerusalem-like aura captured several movie directors, including Mel Gibson, who used Matera to film ‘The Passion of the Christ’.

In fading light, our first sighting of the ‘sassi’ areas built on the sides of the gorge (and where our hotel is located) is stunning.

This is the scene that stops us in our tracks as we navigated through the winding streets of the Sassi area trying to find our hotel.

Winding down into the gorge we finally find our hotel, the 18-room Albergo Sextantio Le Grotte Della Civita. A porter comes to lug my luggage up the stone steps, but Paul (with one carry-on for the whole month away!) looks after his own.

We join cave dwellers from millennia before in the same caves for an overnight experience – and for a guided tour of the area to better understand the patrimony.

Our quarters in Sextantio Le Grotte della Civita, Matera - three caves deep

e sleep in a cave with a door to the light, but bathe in a candlelit third cave deeper into the limestone mountain.

 

fter the long flight from Singapore, out for a walk late on a Roman Summer afternoon, I pause . . . and enjoy watching kids chasing bubbles in Piazza del Popolo.

ROME . . . In Piazza del Popolo . . . out walking, late on a Roman Summer afternoon.

 

ext day, Paul arrives and it’s time to address both body and soul.

Heading into the old Trastevere area of Rome on a hot Sunday afternoon for a pizza at Dar Poeta, recommended by nephew Mark

 
izza and cold beer in Trastevere sates the hunger on a very hot Roman summer’s day, but we suffer an even hotter one as we set out on pilgrimage along the Tiber on our way to St Peter’s to ‘salve the soul’.

In order to gain our plenary indulgence, we make find the church of San Salvatore in Lauro, one of three designated by Pope Francis for the “Jubilee Year of Mercy”. A prayer at a side altar dedicated to the soon-to-be-canonised Mother Teresa, before crossing the Tiber to Castel Sant’Angelo for the walk up the Via Conciliazione to St Peter’s.

We join the queue for security check before following other pilgrims into the Basilica through the Holy Door to receive Reconciliation, and our indulgences.

Paul and Michael - 'On pilgrimage' along the Tiber towards the Holy Door of St Peter's and our plenary indulgence

Colourful Swiss Guard at the Vatican in traditional uniform at the Vatican

 
y brother Mark and Jenny land in Rome after their 28-hour marathon from Brisbane via Cairns and Hong Kong on Cathay Pacific, so it’s great to catch-up. Another late afternoon walk, this time to Caffè Greco on Rome’s Via Condotti where Keats & Byron also drank at the marble tables of this celebrated, richly-ornate 18th-century cafe.

Drinks with my brother Mark and Jenny and Paul turn into 'high tea' at Caffè Greco

Liveried waiters at Caffè Greco on Rome's Via Condotti where Keats & Byron drank coffee at the marble tables of this celebrated, richly-ornate 18th-century cafe.

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I’m on my way to Italy!
 

n the stopover in Singapore for a night at the Shangri La Hotel (where I first stayed 40+ years ago), I get the chance to catch-up with good friends, Joy Wrix and Alex, who sign me in me to the hallowed surrounds of the old Singapore Cricket Club for lunch.

Time for some excellent local chicken satay and Hainan pork in the once men-only dining area – before coffee and cake on the verandah overlooking the Padang where cricket has been played since British colonial times. Is it any wonder that today most of the active members of the club are cricket-mad Indians?

The casual dining experience is momentarily dramatised when unwittingly I break a major house rule by answering my ringing mobile phone. Joy placates the dining room captain who eventually stops waving his arms in the air at my transgression.

Now for perhaps my favourite airline experience on SWISS International to Zurich and Rome.

Joy and Michael at the Singapore Cricket Club for lunch

An aura of formality still remains in the bones of the wonderful old clubhouse but jackets and ties are no longer 'de rigeur'.

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he Brisbane ‘Mussies’, as Uncle John Cliffe used to call us, came to Sydney for the Big 100 Celebration of Aunty Beth with members of the Evelyn Scott families, and of course ‘The Wards’!

 

Aunty Beth - 100 years

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ith birds on the balcony for breakfast, it’s impossible to get a word in edge ways about the plans for Sydney over the next couple of weeks with my newly arrived visitors from Miami – Michael and Ricardo. Lorikeets have flown in and captured their full attention!

My neighbour Pam Turner claims that these are ‘her’ lorikeets. She’s more than annoyed that they’ve flown her coup and come to mine. (After bread and honey, yes, they pooped on the floor, but gee they’re pretty.)

What visitor wouldn't be captivated (and ignore my discussion of trip plans) by such beauty of these lorikeets!

On the beach at Watson’s Bay, slowly recovering from the battering of the storms that hit the whole east coast of Australia last week, two friendly Chinese tourists gesture to us to accept a handful of chips to throw to seagulls sitting on the beach to get them to fly into a frenzy. And success!

The photo is testament to Michael being gleefully happy with the ‘chip-throwing’ exercise – with Ricardo and Michael Iñesta also amused.

The whole first day of the visitors stay was obviously ‘for the birds’!

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At a Reception in Bennelong Restaurant tonight to mark the opening of Songlines – the first Indigenous lighting of the sails on Sydney Opera House – Paul O’Donnell and I agree that in our childhood experience, the whole ‘Aboriginal’ phenomenon was mute.

It’s striking here in 2016; here on this site of Tubowgule – ’where the knowledge waters meet’ – the salt and the fresh, that the meaning of being a contemporary Australian has new life breathed into it from this ancient tradition.

The Songlines are beautifully projected on the sails of the Sydney Opera House for Sydney-siders, visitors, and the whole world to see. Opera House CEO Louise Herron told the gathering it is the largest live event thus far on Facebook Australia.

Songlines is about connections between story, place, meaning, and human bodies – as written in an old Bundjalung song:

“when I’m away from country something is missing inside.
It’s the breathing part of my body, that makes my spirit feel alive”.

At the end of any cruise, there’s always a ‘collection’ of ship shots. No story line, but always a good ‘memento’ of the occasion.

Tugs assist in the docking of Seabourn Sojourn in Aqaba, Jordan

Pam and Jim displaying that life on the ocean wave doesn't have to be all 'buttoned-up'

Jim and Michael - kitted out in Marks and Spencer hats bought in Dubai - just right for the heat of Salalah in the south of Oman

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hunch prompts Agostino to drive off the expressway into the parking lot of a soul-less shopping centre in the middle of rice fields in the plains of Lombardy feeling that he might just find a traditional Italian restaurant tucked away.

And yes, a stand-alone, seemingly ramshackle building emerges behind rows of parked cars. We are met by a smiling Giovanni with hand outstretched, owner of ‘I Templari’, (named after a medieval church managed by the Templars). He’s quick to tell me that his father once lived in Ayr in North Queensland and he has a cousin who is a barber in Sydney. Instant family!

Seating us in the family dining room (with the airconditioning), he proceeds to organise the meal; home-made tagliatelle with grated white truffles served on a plate of fresh mint leaves, lavender flower and grated parmesan ; enough to blow the senses (not to mention the budget). A chilled local Rosé is refreshing, even if a bit rough.

I really don’t need the slow-cooked beef with herbs inside and a fresh pepperonata (capsicum and tomato sauce) that simply appears for us to share; but what can I say, or do? This is family!

Home-made tagliatelle with grated white truffles served on a plate of fresh mint leaves, lavender flower and grated parmesan - enough to blow the senses (not to mention the budget). The bill for the whole meal – the princely sum of €40 for the two of us!

And there is no saying ‘no’ to the homemade dessert – pastiera Napoletana, with ricotta, vanilla and candied fruit. The bill – the princely sum of €40 for the two of us!

he three-week cruise from Dubai through the Suez Canal and across the Med to Monte Carlo is already a distant memory!

I’m staying at the Hotel Belles-Rives in Juan-Les Pins with sweeping sea views from what was once the Art Deco mansion of F Scott Fitzgerald, (the American novelist and writer of The Great Gatsby’). Sitting under an umbrella on the terrace with waters lapping at my feet, I take on the ‘Riviera ambience’ of this place and enjoy a simple Salade Niçoise. I could spend a week here and never leave the property.

The Art Deco Hôtel Belles-Rives in Juan-Les Pins, once the Art Deco mansion of F Scott Fitzgerald, (the American novelist and writer of The Great Gatsby’).

Re-creating my own heady days of the mid-70’s, when working for Amex and flying to exotic places for meetings at the drop of a hat, I decide to return to the small hill town of St-Paul de Vence, just as I did with June Whelan in 1976.

I recall choosing a convertible from Avis and driving on the ‘wrong’ side of the road for the first time in my life, and with no fear. (I don’t know about June!) We had lunch on the terrace of La Colombe d’Or. This deserted medieval hill town was brought back to life by artists before the Second World War (lead by Marc Chagall), and today, artists continue to thrive and breathe life into the many colourful studios, shops and gardens dotted through the winding narrow streets.

Wandering, we come across La Chapelle des Pénitents Blancs, decorated by Belgian artist Folon. It exudes such light and an instant sense of peace. In this small chapel, Folon has created a fairytale world, a blend of weightlessness, transparency and harmonious gradations of colour to arouse the imagination. Coincidentally, the artist was also a friend of the owners of the Colombe D’Or where June and I lunched forty years ago. The restaurant sign that he painted (in similar gradations of colour) still hangs outside today.

In St Paul de Vence, Michael and Agostino wander into La Chapelle des Pénitents Blancs, decorated by Belgian artist Folon. It exudes such light and an instant sense of peace.

For lunch, we decide to follow the valley of the River Loup down through the mountains ending up at Pont du Loup. This pretty place used to be a fashionable country resort at the end of the 19th century where Queen Victoria would visit by train from Nice to lunch on fresh river trout. The cafe where we stop for a late lunch today is far from fashionable but the trout is fresh and sweet.

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e decide to give Rome a miss today and head north east from the port of Civitavecchia to the Italian hilltop town of Orvieto in Umbria. I want to revisit the brilliantly coloured chapel of St Brizio in the Cathedral (more correctly the Capella della Madonna di San Brizio) – famous for the fresco cycle by Luca Signorelli (painted 1499 – 1503) depicting visions of paradise, hell and the end of the world; and then take time to enjoy lunch in the countryside.

Rather than disappoint, grey skies present another perspective, favourable, in which to view the golden mosaics that adorn the facade of the 14th century Cathedral. Regrettably, a change of lighting, (and not for the better), along with some deterioration of colour in the frescoes in the St Brizio chapel is a disappointment this time.

Golden mosaics adorn the facade of the 14th century Cathedral of Orvieto dedicated to the Assumption of Mary

The Luca Signorelli St Brizio Chapel in the Cathedral of the Assumption in Orvieto. Many of the people going there in the 1500s would have believed that the end of the world and the day of judgement were due at any moment. Talk about a fear driven religion - or was it just that Signorelli liked painting naked male bodies?

Enrico recommended Restaurant Altarocca, offering organic products from their own farm – a selection of local cured meats and home made marinated salmon caught in local streams. Maccheroncelli with pepper and ewe’s cheese and seasoned pork cheek made for a wonderful pasta dish. The vino was from their own vineyard, a soft Orvieto white.

Couldn't pass-up this very 'Roman Holiday' photo opp.

his morning, turning north, we head up through the straits of Messina towards Civitivecchia and Monte Carlo. Calabria in the toe of Italy lies to the east, and the island of Sicily to the west; dolphins play alongside the ship in our wash.

After lunch we sail around Mt Stromboli, a small island in the Tyrrhenian Sea, off the north coast of Sicily, 926 metres above sea level. It contains one of the three active volcanoes in Italy that’s conveniently ‘smoking’ for us.

Sailing by Mt Stromboli

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read and cheese with a pot of tea . . . home alone . . . locked away in my cabin . . . with a book! And three days of this sailing across the Mediterranean to the next port. (Of course, I’ll succumb and be drawn ‘from my cave’ to socialise over the odd meal or two, but after all the sightseeing and blogging of the past fortnight, this is what I love; this is why I am lured to cruise.)

Home alone . . . on my balcony

Cocktails in the Turner's suite with Michael, Jim and Suze

n interesting morning around Capernaum on the northern side of the Sea of Galilee where Jesus spent the three years of his public ministry.

Seeing it all first-hand, and correlating stories I’ve been hearing since childhood, brings a totally new perspective – very satisfying in a personal sense. It may perhaps be of interest to others of my Christian friends. (And, I add a link to a small album of photos at the end of the post.)

The town of Capernaum – “He left Nazareth and made his home in Capernaum by the lake”.

Jesus teaching in the Synagogue – “Jesus said these things in the synagogue, as he taught at Capernaum”

“On leaving the synagogue he entered the house of Peter and Andrew with James and John”.

I see (at the Benedictine Church of the Multiplication) the rock on which the five loaves and two fish were laid . . . “And they all ate and were satisfied.”

A little further around the lake, a small Franciscan chapel stands on the spot where Jesus appeared to his disciples for the third time after the Resurrection, and where he afterwards reinstated Peter with the words “feed my sheep”.

Looking down to the Sea of Galilee from the Mount of Beatitudes, site of the Sermon on the Mount –

“Blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy. . . .”

A pretty apt finish not only for this short visit, but for this broken world we’re living in.

fter visiting Christian sites on the Sea of Galilee, we drive across the north of Israel to Acre (commonly known as Akka), on the northern extremity of Haifa Bay to visit the excavations in the Hospitalier Compound – the old Crusaders fortress.

Michael at the excavations in the Hospitalier Compound - the old Crusaders fortress in Acre

After expelling the Crusaders from the Holy Land on more than one occasion, the Muslims filled in the fortress with sand. The Ottomans built their fortess on top of it. It was only on the 1960’s that Israeli archaeologists started the excavations, revealing the wonderful fortress of 1,000 years ago.

Seabourn Sojourn is docked across Haifa Bay, ready to see sail this evening across the Mediterranean, to Rome.

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