A sojourn in Sicily

I love Italy. I love the history, the wonderful architecture, the glorious food, the amazing wines and I love the people, especially the people.  I have met princes and principessas and I have met farmers and factory workers. Of all the people I have met, there would be just a handful of men and women who I would not like to meet again and that’s saying something when I have been there over 80 times. I have made lifelong friends and every time I get back home I am already thinking of when I can go back.



Palermo

During my trips I have made several journeys to Sicily where I have seen Palermo and its beautiful baroque buildings and lively markets, the towering Erice that overlooks the land and sea, Monreale - which surely must be in the ‘Top Ten’ of the most beautiful churches in the world and the Greek ruins at Selinunte. I have been to the centre of the island where the land is  a golden yellow carpet of wheat and the slopes are a vibrant green with vines and the rocky outcrops that offer protection for the wild sheep and goats. I’ve been to the Straits of Messina, where the mainland can be seen on a clear day. However, I am not going to tell you about all those things, rather I am going to tell you about another comical tale of woe, my trip to ‘Wine Sicily’ where things as normal, went completely wrong. It was about ten years ago but I remember it as if it was yesterday.

I was chosen to be part of a group of six of picked by the Italian Trade Commission as representatives from Australia. This time I was the only journalist, the rest of the group were retailers and importers from Sydney, Melbourne and South Australia. I left for Italy a couple of days earlier than the group accompanied by a representative, Luana, from the Italian Trade Commission in Sydney. We arrived in Sicily and headed straight for the town of Marsala where for two days until the rest of the group arrived. We went sightseeing, ate in a few restaurants and went shopping. It was lovely to be able to enjoy ourselves and relax before the work began.




Erice

Looking down  Erice

Our accommodation was in a hotel on the edge of town. It was ‘four star’ without a restaurant (common in Italy) and without much service either. We basically came and went as we pleased and made sure we were home by 11.00pm when they locked the doors. Asking the reception anything meant huge sighs and dirty looks. Our outlook was bleak, we were both given rooms at the back of the hotel which looked out onto a building site (someone had started building a massive building but there was never anybody there while we were) and several industrial units. The hotel, which had been booked out for the whole event by the organisers, had views of the beach and ocean at the front and these rooms were given to the Italian guests of Wine Sicily. This was the perfect opportunity for encouraging international tourism by giving these rooms to the non-Italian guests but this obviously had not crossed their minds.



Saltpans of Marsala

At last everyone arrived. The group, which consisted of 40 importers and large retailers, had all been bussed to Marsala from Palermo and we had just that night together to get to know one another. Our little group of Australians decided to go to a pizzeria called ‘Detroit’, which Luana and I had discovered while waiting for their arrival. It was a memorial to everything Elvis, the decorations, the music and even the pizzas, which were named after Elvis hits. A group of four Canadians attending the wine show waled in and we invited them to sit with us. We had a great time swapping stories and just relaxing. The lone female in their group whose name shall remain silent to protect the innocent (hello Paula), had never been to Italy before and decided to try a shot of Sambuca after our pizzas. We warned her after the second glass that it was quite potent, she said she often had shots of tequila like this and drank several more. She appeared to be coping okay and managed to walk back to the hotel unaided. The next morning however, she looked like death warmed up and had a terrible hangover. She wore dark glasses all day and I don’t think she drank again - except for the tastings - for the rest of the trip.

A church in the distance - Erice

We were up bright and early and had breakfast in the hotel. Hotels in Italy always offer breakfast in a breakfast room but the room remains empty for the rest of the day. It seems a pity not to be able to have meals in the hotel but the cost of having the extra staff and possibly not filling the room prevents this. There are so many inexpensive trattorie, osterie and ristorante that it simply isn’t worth their while.

We were loaded onto buses and taken out to a tiny place called Palavetro. We were never quite sure whether Palavetro was the name of a town or the name of the old aircraft hangar that the wine show was in as we couldn’t see any houses nearby. It was located next to an air force landing strip and planes would come and take off and land every five minutes. It was obviously somewhere they trained the pilots of these military jets. The noise of them taking off and then the sonic boom was horrendous.

We were dropped off at the front doors and the buses left. There was no one to greet us, to tell us where to go, there had been no instructions apart from ‘get on the bus at 8.30’. We were in the middle of nowhere, even the Italians who been on the bus with us were confused. Finally we saw some cars in the distance - or rather we saw the dust of the unsealed road being thrown up as they drew closer.  They finally reached us and without further ado opened the doors. They had started the previous day to set things up and the exhibition was nearly ready. 

We were herded to an area and told to wait. Again, no one was there telling us what was going to happen. You can imagine every one was feeling a little frazzled by this point - the Italian guests included. We had been there nearly an hour when finally someone came over and directed us to another area with seating and tables and we were told the tasting would begin. We would be tasting 36 wines and after that we would be allowed to talk to the producers. That sounded great as we could see the producers had stands set up on the other side of the building. For the importers, they could talk to new producers, for the journalists we could talk to those already exporting. It sounded great.

However, and there’s always a ‘however’ when it comes to things like this, there was a catch. We would not find that out until later!

Planting new vineyards at Planeta

Before the tasting a gentleman got up and introduced himself and the relevant people standing around watching us. There was the president of the Consorzio,  an ‘assessore’ (from the local department of agriculture), the local mayor, Signore this and Signore that and by the time he had finished we had all lost the will to live. He then continued with his welcome for another ten minutes - which was lovely to think we were important enough to have this speech written especially for us but it was done in Italian and I would say that 80% of the visitors did not speak Italian. They were lost during the introductions.

Temples at Selinunte

An interpreter appeared for the tastings. We were all set or so we thought, famous last words. Apparently we were going to taste all 36 white wines without a break (the reds we would taste after lunch). I have done this before as a judge at Vinitaly. It really doesn’t help you evaluate the wines but at least you get to pick out the volatile or the badly made wines and we were there just to try the wines with a view to import. One of the group piped up and asked that maybe we could have a five minute break after half the wines had been tasted. Not necessarily for us but it would help us with the wines as some people had never tried some of the varieties and it would help us recover our palates. This was agreed upon and we started tasting.

Each wine was poured and then the producer came out and spoke about his wine. They obviously spoke in Italian so we had to sit through that and then the interpreter would get up and speak to us in English. Being able to understand the Italian, I started writing notes as soon as the winemaker began. The others couldn’t start until the interpreter translated everything. The translator didn’t take notes and relied on his memory so the English version was extremely truncated and often incorrect and it got worse as more and more people got up and spoke.

We had our break as promised and I mentioned it to the others. They said I should say something to the organisers. As I approached the organisers they were already discussing this with another member of the group who was complaining about the translator. When we started again they had solved the problem: for the second half we had the whole thing in Italian and no interpreter at all. There were no technical notes or handouts which meant that any wine in the second group of 16 was missed out by non-Italian speaking people. Many of the producers looked very unsettled and a few refused to stand up at all.

By this time a number of people (about 400) had slowly been making there way in. The whole pavilion (sounds better than air craft hangar) was full. The entire town had been invited to attend and have lunch (which town?). We were told that lunch was now served. We got up and headed in the general direction and found platters with little or no food on them, just a lot of lettuce leaves. The townspeople, local Fuoco (fire brigade), Carabineiri (Police) and producers had been served while we were sitting tasting the wines. This was going to be a long day........

The official opening of the event was done after lunch and we were entertained by a dance group of folkloric dancers in Sicilian national costume. They were quite good and we all cheered up. They were the most professional thing we had seen by this stage. We were then seated for the second sessions - the red wines.

Once again it was entirely in Italian and the non-Italian speakers were bored. They started talking amongst themselves and the whole thing just disintegrated. The producers were embarrassed and again some of them would not get up to talk. The torture finally ended when the convenor got up and spoke for another ten minutes about how proud he was that we had all come and they had been able to show their wines etc etc, etc.... The we had to wait until the official photographs were taken of us sitting at our tables like school children and the VIPs all had their photos taken for the local newspaper.

We all got up and stretched our legs, we were told that there was going to be a special ‘rice dinner’ prepared for us. Several of the group attempted to leave but were told they could not. We waited for this special rice dinner, and we waited, and we waited - with nothing to do!

By 9.00pm this special rice dinner hadn’t appeared and a flurry of phone calls were made. I don’t know what happened but we were put back on the buses having had no lunch or dinner. We were absolutely ravenous. The drive back to town was extremely quiet, all of us lost in our own thoughts - of food mostly!

Spadafora Winery

We arrived back in town at 9.45pm hungry and tired. Some went straight to their room and others went to find sustenance. I was in the second group with the other Aussies. We went back to Detroit and had pizzas, again.

Day two seemed to be a repeat of Day one.  We got up, had breakfast and headed out. We were to be tasting another batch of red wines and then some sweet wines. Sicily produces some of the best sweet wines in the world: wonderful Ben Rye from Donnafugata, Marsala (which isn’t really that sweet if you have a good one) from Cantine Rallo and a plethora of similar products from companies such as Pellegrino, Marco di Bartolo and Florio.

The tasting went off without a hitch - as long as you spoke Italian. This time we had lunch as there were no guests crowding around the tables, only us and the producers.

Verzi, in the centre of the island

We began the sweet wine tasting with different presenters, many of whom spoke English but a number of people in the group had no idea how Marsala was made (using a Solera System). A trip to a winery or some materials with photographs would have been handy as the speakers couldn’t explain it properly without the visual aids. The same thing happened with passito wines. When the tastings were over, many people were still unsure of the processes but they loved the wines.

After the tasting we were told that workshops had been organised with the producers. In actual fact they were one to one meetings which they had set up without bothering to consult either the importer or producer. As a journalist I was keen to talk to the producers that exported to Australia. There were about seven in attendance. I asked if I could see them and was told by an extremely officious lady that ‘We didn’t bring you to the event for a holiday’. I explained that talking to people who didn’t export tWhat could they do, make me pack my things and see me onto a plane, by this time I would have welcomed it.

She took out her mobile phone and spoke to someone somewhere, she then turned and told me I was exempt from seeing the producers, I could talk to them at their stands if I wished. I thanked her and moved off to the stands as quickly as possible just in case she changed her mind. What she didn’t tell me was that the producers were not at their stands as they had ‘workshops’ with the importers. Many were very small producers who had brought no assistants with them so their stands were empty. I slipped out a doorway and into the sun. Several others were already out there. They were refusing to see producers.

The organisers had set up the meetings with absolutely no regard for either party. Importers were looking for specific wines that would fill a gap in their portfolios. The producers were looking for people who needed their wine, people who didn’t already have similar products. It would have been an easy task to send everyone a sheet before we got there asking what their requirements were. We had had information about the event sent to us by the organisers, a form could have been tacked on the end. It would have saved a lot of grief if a little bit of thought had gone into it.

I waited with other journalists as there was no transport back to the hotel. We were soon joined by a number of importers who had turned up for ‘workshops’ but the producers hadn’t. 

Day three started with arguments. Many people made their own plans to go and see producers and revolted when they were told they had to get on the bus. The woman who chastised me earlier was once again on the warpath. The bus was only half full and she was threatening people by saying their hotel bill would not be paid and once again, we were not on a holiday.

All in all we had wasted a lot of time over the three days. We could have done all the work on one day and made visits to the wineries on the second and third days. But hey, we were in Sicily!

Next: We visit some wineries

Italian Traveller: A crowd pleaser in Montepulciano

Italian Traveller: A crowd pleaser in Montepulciano: Weekly market in Montepulciano My travels around Italy (In the guise of work) continued unabated for several years and I have been ve...

A crowd pleaser in Montepulciano

Weekly market in Montepulciano

My travels around Italy (In the guise of work) continued unabated for several years and I have been very fortunate to have travelled to every region except one - Valle D'Aosta. This time I was back in Tuscany to visit wineries around Montepulciano.



Church of San Biageo which lies below the town

Montepulciano is everything you want a small town in Italy to be: picturesque with views over valleys below and of course, good food and wine. I have now been to Montepulciano about 20 times and every time I go I find something I haven’t seen before.

My first experience of the town was thoroughly enjoyable though it had a touch of comedy to it as well. As usual I was on a bus with half a dozen other journalists and we were going to see Cantine Redi, a historical winery in the heart of Montepulciano.

The town hall and the main piazza

Now Montepulciano is a hilltop town, you have to go up a long and winding road to get to the town which levels out for 100 metres and then goes downhill again. The central piazza is bordered by the Town Hall (Municipio) a church and several other historical buildings. All the citizens live in apartments in the buildings, that could have been built up to 500 years ago, surrounding the piazza and also facing the valleys surrounding the town. The buildings are very attractive and you realise why the tourists love it so much (I kid myself that I am not a tourist as I am working.....).

Cantine Redi was situated part of the way down on the other side of town, the road basically the reverse of the way we had come in. We started downhill and the bus driver was being very careful as the road was only one lane, fortunately there wasn’t any other traffic coming the other way. We got down to a hairpin bend when some German tourists stepped out in front of us. Giulio the driver reacted as he was so shocked and he turned the wheel but he forgot to brake!

The bus ended up brushing a building opposite and losing traction as the road dipped and the road surface sloped away from the tyres on the bend. We were alright as this had all happened in slow motion. We all got off the bus to see how badly the bus was damaged.

Some of the people coming to have a look

Giulio was lucky because the bus had some paint scrapped off (it already had another couple of scrapes anyway)but that wasn’t our biggest problem, our biggest problem was the bus was stuck. Because the bus couldn’t get traction from the two wheels on the right hand side he couldn’t move it at all. People started to gather and hang out of windows, we became the afternoon’s entertainment. Several people gave Giulio suggestions of how to ‘unstick’ the bus as the crowd got larger and larger.

Checking to see we didn't leave a mark on the building

With most of the population of Montepulciano watching, Giulio tried to find a solution. A light bulb went on in his head and he rushed around the back of the bus and found a rope. He said if he tied it to the bumper bar at the back, we could all pull while he got the bus back on four wheels. After we had all stopped laughing, after all there were two women and a man in his seventies and the rest weren’t extremely fit, he realised that it might be a problem especially as all we would achieve would be to remove the bumper bar from the bus in an inappropriate manner.

The tow truck arrives

Someone in the crowd suggested calling the town’s tow truck and he thought that would be a good idea. So he called and we waited. The tow truck, because it belonged to the community, came in about five minutes. The young man got out and had a look at where we were stuck, went to the back of the tow truck and emerged with an older style car bench seat and stuck it under the tyre that had no traction. We thought he was equally as silly as Giulio but when Giulio got back in the bus he found he had traction again and was able to drive the bus several meters so that all four wheels were on the road again.

The tow truck river checking the traction of the wheels

There was a roar from the crowd and the tow truck driver took a bow. He then said for us to accompany him to the office as the tow of 800,000 lire ($800.00 ) had to be paid.

We're on the road again

Our guide Paola then started to panic, where was she going to get $800. She only had $100 on her so she phoned her office. We were all asked if we could contribute $100 and we would be reimbursed sometime over the next couple of days when we got to an ATM. Paola started collecting the money, apologising as she went. We arrived at the office about five minutes away downhill and disembarked. Giulio went in holding our money. We waited and waited, surely it couldn’t take that long to fill in a report and sign a receipt. At last Giulio emerged with a great big smile on his face and our money in his hands.

Waiting for the bill

When he had gone into the office he had been talking to the young tow truck driver. They discovered that Giulio’s boss was the young man’s previous employer and that he also had several mutual aquaintances – who would have known, it’s a small world. Because of this Giulio became an honorary resident and he only had to pay what a resident paid, 20,000 lire ($20). We left the office very quickly in case he changed his mind and made our way, very carefully this time, to Cantine Redi, which turned out to be a fantastic visit.

Next : A trip to Sicily turns sour

A little Mafioso gets in trouble

The Coast Road

Our trip to Calabria was planned for October when the weather was supposed to be slightly cooler, but it turned out to be an ‘indian summer’ with long hot days. It was great if you intended to visit one of the beachside resorts for which Calabria is famous but not for visiting vineyards.

We were in the vineyards of Nicodemi Librandi and we were melting. Our interest was starting to wane, we were being shown gaglioppo vines and there wasn’t a cloud in the blue, blue sky. Our host, sensing our lack of attention said we would go into the winery and you could feel everyone's relief. The difference between the hot vineyards and the cool winery was fantastic and we soon got our concentration back.

Nicodemi Librandi

Librandi was a lovely host and a few years later I had a chance to meet him again and this time I was on my own. He took me for lunch at a restaurant called Ficcadindia. When we had finished lunch he asked me if I wanted dolce (dessert). It was another hot day so I declined but then I spotted a waiter walking past with watermelon that looked really refreshing and I asked whether I could have some. At the time, I only spoke my family's small town dialect as I hadn’t learnt to speak ‘real’ Italian ,so I asked for ‘zupangolo’ - watermelon. He roared with laughter and said he hadn’t heard it called that for 30 years. It was now commonly known as anguria and where was my family from that they still used this old dialect. Needless to say I started studying proper Italian when I got home.

On this trip we also  visited the wineries of Lento and Statti, both of which were interesting and well run. At Statti we met some of the workers, a bunch of happy ladies who allowed us to take photos of them. The winery also had a menagerie of farm animals and one of the Statti brothers picked out one donkey who wouldn't stop braying and he said they even had their own politician pointing at the donkey.

The house at Fattoria San Francesco

We were staying at the agriturismo of San Francesco, a fairly modern winery situated on the land of a former abbey. The agriturismo had actually been redeveloped from the cloisters of the abbey. There was also a very picturesque house on the property where I stayed along with the only other female journalist. Everywhere we went in Italy we were always given separate accommodation - I don’t know why. Would we get up to naughty things at night if we shared the accommodation with men?

The winery was built on a plateau half way up a hill and had spectacular views all the way to the sea. It was one of the most beautiful places I had seen in Calabria, unfortunately the town nearby wasn’t so beautiful. It was under the control of a local mafia. On the morning after our arrival I went for an early morning walk, I hadn’t said anything to anybody and I spent about an hour before breakfast investigating the area. I walked up to the town further up the hill and discovered a place where everything was grey, even the people who were out and about that early. It was depressing, no one smiled, the people looked old before their time and I am not exaggerating when I say the monotone colour of the place was off-putting. It was very depressing.

I decided to go back to the winery and have breakfast and started making my way back down the hill. I spotted some stairs going downhill so I decided to go that way. The staircase took me down to a children’s playground. Everything in the playground was brand new - new swings, a roundabout, several climbing toys and two street lamps. The two street lamps were smashed and around the equipment there was a carpet of smashed glass - so much that I could tell this wasn’t the work of kids. It had been put there on purpose.

A church in the town of Ciro Marina

I made my way back to the winery quite unsettled by the devastation and why had no one cleared up the mess. At the winery there were people running around and calling my name. As I approached, Phillip our guide, came up to me and asked me was I alright. I answered yes and why had everyone been running around and calling my name. I was told I wasn’t to go out on my own again for my own safety, there had been a number of kidnappings in the past year and I would be safer if I stayed with the group. After hearing that I had no problem staying with the group.

After everything had calmed down we had breakfast. I asked about the playground.  The housekeeper then told me something very sobering, the local mafia had placed the glass there and had given warnings that anyone who removed it would be dealt with - how, I don’t know but I understand why they didn’t.

Apparently the local mayor had applied for and received money from Rome to build the playground. The local mafia don had waited for his normal cut of the money and was disappointed when he received nothing so he had some men break hundreds of bottles the night before the playground was officially opened and warnings were sent around by word of mouth. I felt very sad for the people in the town - I won’t mention the name of the town, you can find it easily enough if you look for the winery.

A second incident occurred involving the local mafia when a visit to a winery (which I won’t name) was cancelled. We were waiting one afternoon for someone to come from the winery to show us how to get there. A car with two men came down the driveway very slowly. The two men had a look at us waiting and then turned around and took off. We all looked at one another and said “what was that about?” Five minutes later the car came back and did the same thing. When Phillip approached the car to ask if it was looking for us, it took off. A couple of minutes later Fattoria San Francesco received a call that the visit was called off.

Phillip was very angry and called the winery back, after five minutes he managed to convince them that we were indeed journalists and we were intending to visit the winery whether they wanted us or not. They agreed and said they would come back and lead us to the winery. At this stage we weren’t so sure we wanted to go anymore, there was obviously something going on and would we end up being caught up in it?

A few minutes later the car with the two men returned and we all piled in the minibus and off we went. We followed the car to a vineyard that was close to the ocean and we were told to wait. Another car soon arrived and a young man got out, he was wearing sunglasses which seemed a bit strange as it was getting dark.  He was dressed all in black and looked like a character for a poster for a gangster movie.

The Saracen market at sunset

It turned out he was the son of the owner and he spoke English well enough to talk to us. He showed us the vineyards and talked about the grapes and the thousands of Indian Figs that dotted the surrounding area but no mention of the winery or offer to take us there was given, instead we were told to get back on the minibus and we were going to have dinner at a lovely resort a short distance away.

Sure enough, a couple of kilometres down the road was a restaurant - I would hardly call it a resort - and we all got out of the minibus. We went in and met the owner, then we were shown to a table outside and the young man from the winery sat down at the table first, making sure he was able to get away fast and had a clear view of anyone entering the restaurant. It was quite chilly but obviously he wanted to make sure no one could sneak up on us. We felt uncomfortable because his companions didn’t sit down, instead they prowled around. It was the fastest meal I had ever eaten and we were soon on our way back to Fattoria San Francesco.

The next day we discovered through some other people that the young man had been beaten up - hence the glasses - and the winery was a mess.  Personally I was glad to get out of Calabria although my two sisters-in-law go back occasionally for holidays. There are some lovely spots, beautiful resorts and beaches but I’m not particularly enthusiastic about returning anytime soon!

Next: We have fun in Montepulciano

Is it Ground Hog Day?

Travelling from Bari north to Pescara was a boring journey. It takes a couple of hours and while the train travels up the coast, the view never changes. It’s the ocean on one side an olive groves on the other. However, we had to get to Pescara for a series of tastings so off we went.

 We left Bari in the middle of Carnevale. Hundreds of children were dressed up in beautiful costumes – no simple superman suits here, there were children in fancy silk and satins, a number of Disney characters like Snow White and Cinderella and of course ‘Topolino’, the Italian equivalent to Mickey Mouse. We watched the children for a while, all in the firm grip of their parents, before we moved onto the station.

We arrive in Pescara to find our accommodation is a masseria (a fortified house – a throw back to earlier times when people would need protection) Many masserie have been turned into B&B’s and small hotels. This one was quite interesting, the rooms all had one wall painted with abstract art, the bathrooms were a sort of extension to the room, situated behind a curved wall and without doors. They were quite beautiful in their own way. The staff however, were perhaps not so brilliant. Each morning we were there, breakfast was supposed to start at 8.00am so we could finish and get on the bus for our visits by 9am, but the staff would take their time and it might be 9am by the time they got their act together so we frequently went out with nothing, not even a cup of coffee. This was not good considering we were tasting so much wine!

Anyway, we made the best of it often stopping somewhere along the way to the wineries and picking something up. We had spremuta (fruit juice) instead of coffee and cornetti (Croissants) instead of a full breakfast.

Our first stop was at Casa Vinicola Roxan, a cooperative with over 700 members and 1000 hectares of vines. Cooperatives were quite common in Italy for many years as it meant you could have as little as half a hectare of vines and that was sufficient for you to sell them to the local cooperative as a second income. To some families this was vital. As the wine industry has improved in quality over the last 40 years, number of cooperatives is declining as they find it hard compete in the modern market. The ones still around produce very good wines as they have learnt to adapt often employing consultants and getting the growers to follow guidelines when growing there grapes. They are no longer obliged to take grapes so if the quality isn’t there, they don’t purchase them.

At Roxan we were told the three most important producers in the area were Valentini (the ‘King’ of wine in Abruzzo who passed away last year), Passetti and of course Roxan. Over 80% of producers in the area sell their grapes to the cooperative. Most of the vines grown locally were between 15-18 years old, making them fairly young.

The tasting was being held at the home of a Baron and Baroness. They were an elderly couple, very aristocratic but so nice. Their home was quite opulent with lots of golden fabrics and furnishings. We almost felt like we were intruding but they were lovely and very anxious to please.

The home had been built in the 1700’s. During the height of World War ll the property had been bombed daily as it was used as German headquarters for the area, fortunately it escaped damage. Recent winds however,had taken the tops off a couple of 200 year old pine trees and their nuts were like ammunition as they were hurled at the front door.

The cellar was fascinating, A huge cauldron sat in the middle of the floor and at certain times of the year it was used to cook vin cotto which is used as an ingredient in Puglian dishes. It is also added to wines occasionally to increase the strength.

At the end of the tasting there was a delicious brunch laid out for us, lots of pastries,pizza and locally made Caciocavallo cheese and bread – fortunately none of us were gluten intolerant.

Puglia use to be the doorway to east and also the earliest presence of man can be found there. The It was also the starting point for the Crusades. Most of the olive trees were originally from Israel and the their pips were use as Rosary beads. The pips are always the same size and they used to be used to measure gold – 24 pips = 24 carats = 1 ounce of gold.

We gradually worked our way through another ten wineries over the next couple of days, none of them as interesting as Roxan. On our final day the twins from the wine tourism board told us ‘today you will have a special tasting, ten wineries will get together and you can try all of their wines in one spot. Then, tonight you will have dinner at a special restaurant where they will prepare for you a special meal’. We all thought hooray, we can see all the wineries in one place which should make it a little easier.

We went to the tasting which was held in another stunning Masseria – painted white and very contemporary, and we saw the wineries showing wine at the tasting. They were the same wineries we had just visited over the last three days. Their wines couldn’t have improved in the short space of time so we were very disappointed. Have you ever heard of the film ‘Ground Hog Day’ starring Bill Murray? That’s how we felt – repeating the same thing everyday until we got it right. The twins had not found anybody new.  We did taste the wines but an argument with the twins ensued and we left. We didn’t go to the dinner either, we went and had pizzas in Bari. We discovered it was a 15 course meal and we just couldn’t take it anymore. The tourism twins were using us to make themselves look good. We packed up and headed back to Bari where we were to spend a couple of days in yet another Masseria.

We arrived just as the sun was setting, the Masseria appearing out of the evening mist after a long drive up a private road. It looked like a set for a horror movie. It might have been deserted and was one of the few we had seen that actually looked like a fortress. It was not the most welcoming place. The lights were off and we knocked on the door and called out for about ten minutes. We were just about to give up when a man came from the back of the building, coming towards us looking as if we had just dropped in from out of space. We explained we were a group of wine journalists and we had booked in. He asked us to wait and he went back in the Masseria. Then, the front door opened and a large woman said to come in. She told the man to get our bags and take them to a group of outbuildings nearby. Apparently we were to stay there and not the house.

We were all processed – passports photocopied and forms filled in – and were given keys to our ‘rooms’. The Masseria must be very popular in summer as there was all sorts of sports equipment lying around.  The rooms were very thoroughly depressing, obviously the sports-people that came in summer must have been at the cheaper end of the market. The shower was over the toilet and the basin next to it. The water was freezing, about the same temperature as the rooms. The one lonely light bulb shone bravely but created spooky shadows. They were not the most comfortable rooms.

We met in a kind of pergola in the grounds and discussed our rooms, everybody had experienced the same thing. We went into dinner glad that we only had to stay there the one night.

When we went into the house we were taken to the dining room. Once again it was freezing but there was a fireplace set up for a fire, maybe that would be lit and we would be nice and toasty. Both the man and the woman kept coming into the room but the fire remained a heap of sticks so finally I asked in my best Italian if it could be lit. Bad move! I got a mouthful of moaning and groaning about the cost but a few minutes later they lit the fire.

We were sitting there freezing and feeling a little trapped while the tiny fire flickered in the corner. The woman came in from the kitchen and said there was a telephone call for one of my colleagues. (We had all been sent a list of properties and phone numbers in case our families had an emergency.) It turned out to be Michael’s wife, their 18 year old cat was very ill an she wanted to take it to the vet and have it put down but she wanted to ask him first as he was very fond of the cat.

Michael came back and told us, we were all upset but it turned out to be good luck as it formed the basis of our escape plan. We would say that the call was about a relative who was very sick and we had to leave because Michael had to fly back to the States. So while we waited we went back to our rooms, one at a time, and placed our suitcases back on the bus, the driver then brought the bus close to the front door and then our guide told the lady that we had to leave because of Michaels’s sad story.

The owner agreed and you have never seen people leave a table so quickly. We piled on the bus and drove off straight away to the cries from the woman ‘I still need to be paid!’

Relief! And, you don’t have to worry about the payment, the organiser ended up sending money through to the woman.

Once we were on the bus again, our guide phoned the hotel in Bari where we had stayed at the beginning of the trip and secured new rooms. Unfortunately for us, Bari was now in the middle of a large medical conference and we had to take what rooms they had. I ended up in a room used by the staff next to the kitchens, I heard pots and pans as well as yelling for several hours but at least I was nice and cosy and it was only one night.

The next day we left the hotel for Bari airport for the trip back to Rome and then home. We arrived around 7.00am. Our connecting flights took off from Rome at various times so I was left until last as I was staying on in Rome. One of my colleagues had borrowed a walking stick in Rome and as he was getting a connecting flight to Hong Kong asked me to take the stick back to where it could be shipped back to the owner. My turn to board came and I attempted to take the walking stick. I wasn’t allowed on board because the stick wasn’t mine. I said could it be put in with the baggage and was told no. I then said where would I put it, it had to be taken back to Rome. They capitulated and agreed I could put it with the baggage but they couldn’t guarantee it would make it to Rome, they were right, it had disappeared.

Next: The mafia are getting very close

Italian Traveller: Where's the bus when you need it.

Italian Traveller: Where's the bus when you need it.: So we’re still at the Palace Hotel in Bari and today we have to take a drive into the countryside to see various wineries and the histo...

Where's the bus when you need it.

So we’re still at the Palace Hotel in Bari and today we have to take a drive into the countryside to see various wineries and the historical Castel Del Monte - Castle on the Mount.

Our departure time is 9.00am and we are to assemble at the front of the hotel and wait for the bus. I walk down, it’s about 8.45 am and I am soon joined by two others from the group. The bus comes and we get on board. I put my camera bag, which contains all my money and passport on a seat. I see a news-stand across the road and say to the guys on the bus “I’m just going to pop over and get a magazine, I’ll be right back.”  I took some money out of my wallet and got off the bus.

I walk over the the news-stand and buy my magazine and walk back. The bus has gone, it’s nowhere to be found. I am alone in Bari with a magazine and no money.

For the first time on this trip the whole group was ready on time and even stranger, the bus driver decided to leave early as everyone was on board - except me! While I had walked across the road and purchased my magazine everybody had come downstairs and in the space of a couple of minutes had got on the bus, including a gentleman from some tourist board who was to give us a talk on Castel del Monte on the way. He gave them each a map and told them to open it which they did and so nobody noticed I wasn’t there, the loudest person on the trip, the only female and they didn’t notice.

I looked for the bus thinking that they had moved it just to trick me and I had wandered up several lane ways and streets to no avail, the bus was not there. I was left wondering what to do: (a) I could spend the entire day wandering about Bari but I didn’t have my camera or any money or (b) I could go back to my room and read my magazine and catch up on some rest. I decided to go back to my room and read my magazine and decide later whether I wanted to have a look around or sleep.

So I walked back into the hotel just as the receptionist came looking for me. Apparently they had got out of the city  and realised I wasn’t on the bus, my camera bag was there but I was not. Where had I disappeared to?

Everybody on the bus had opened their maps as the man from the tourist board requested. They were big maps and had to be held with both arms outstretched. When he asked them to put their maps down they realised I was not there.

Frank, my Dutch friend who is totally oblivious to anything except food and wine said he had seen me back at the hotel and then Bill, the New Yorker, said I had got off to buy a magazine. Livia, our guide, then phoned the hotel just as I was walking back in and asked if I was there. The receptionist had seen me come back inside and gave me the phone. Livia asked me if I could catch a taxi and they would wait. I said I couldn’t catch a taxi and they would have to come back and pick me up or leave me at the hotel, I didn’t mind but as I had no money on me and wherever they were was a 20 minute ride away and I could get lost I wasn’t prepared to take the chance or I could stay at the hotel and they could see me when I got back. Fortunately the guys voted to come back and pick me up.

The man from the tourist board had been boring them to death about the ‘golden number’. I never really found out what this was but apparently it was the measurement by which everything in the world can be measured. It is the same distance between your hand and elbow and it is the perfect number. As everybody’s hand to elbow measurement is different I was never able to work it out.

When they arrived back at the hotel I was very angry and asked how could they go off without me. Each one had a different excuse and they were all very solicitous for the rest of the day. But, the guy from the tourist board who had been talking since they left was still going so I had to listen to the end of his speech which made absolutely no sense to me.

Our first stop was the wonderful Castel Del Monte, high on a hill its octagonal walls of blond stone give off the colour of the sun. As sunset draws in the castle turns pink, reflecting the colours of the dying sun. It is a huge edifice, dwarfing everything around it and it has an extremely long path to get up to the small front door, at least it looks small from a distance, as you get up closer it towers above your head.

The castle proved to be very interesting. They didn’t sell any literature at the castle which I felt was a lost opportunity but nevertheless, it was a marvellous experience.

It was originally built in the 13th century and for many years it was thought it had been used as a hunting lodge because it doesn’t have a moat or drawbridge but that is not the case now. There is no proof that Emperor Frederick ever visited the castle let along used it for hunting. It was used at one stage as a prison and after that as a place of refuge during the plague.

It was once highly decorated but over the centuries everything has been removed either by design or theft. It is now bare but this offers a stunning view of the building. Some of the marble was taken to Caserta to be used in the royal palace there and the rest by brigands (as it was explained to us). There are still some traces of the rare red marble on some of the columns and you can still see the outlines of architraves which sit above some of the doors. Legend has it that once in the castle you could only walk in a clockwise direction and that is why the doors are only decorated on one side.

The inner courtyard of this unique castle has long windows which look out on a central courtyard. Having conversations must have been fun because you voice carries as you lean out the windows and speak.

The views are spectacular as you are above everything, this part of Puglia is very flat and the fact that this was built on the only hill in the area makes it even more imposing.

Finally we have had our fill of the castle and we head off to visit the wineries we had on our agenda.

Next: We get on a revolving wheel (metaphorically speaking)