We arrived in a town called Lecce pronounced ‘Lechay’ not knowing anything about it at all . And again turned up at the tourist office looking for accommodation. “All we have left,” the
tourist office lady said, “is a two bed apartment and it has to be taken for three day. That’s all that is left!” looking straight at us with the knowing look that if we didn’t take it there and then, it would go to the next punter within five minutes.
“Why is it so busy?”
“The Saints festival.”
“OK, we’ll take it,” and that’s how we found ourselves in a lovely two bed apartment in what we know as location, location, location. A mere 5 minute walk from the centre of the small city.
Time to explore. All the usual things you would expect; the Roman amphitheater in the centre of the town; the usual shops selling lots of tourist stuff and then it started getting better. A large square alongside the amphitheater where they were setting up lots of lights. And when I say lots of them, I really mean LOTS AND LOTS. And that night we turned up just in time to see the parade of the Saints and the lights being turned on. Well… talk about wonderfully over
the top…? Please click the picture and it’ll turn into a short video and you’ll see what I mean . Enjoy. The other thing Lecce is famous for, is that it definitely, without question, the unsung fashionista Capital of the world. The twenty, thirty and forty somethings all trying to outdo each other. And not only the women. The men as well. Usually it’s only the women who sparkle in their clothes with matching bag, belt and of course shoes. Now, the men are beginning to follow suit; from their hair styles right down to the shoes as well. They too have to look special. And not only a few people… nearly all are dressed to kill so it’s wonderful being a people watcher. I can honestly recommend this part of Italy. Hardly any foreign tourists, so you get a true sense of the identity of Italy. I for one would definitely come back again to this part.

Right off on the high speed train to Sorrento and Capri on the Amalfi coast. This is on the western side of Italy and the close to Mount Vesuvius which buried Pompeii. Sorrento is built on very steep cliffs with views that are simply stunning . Unfortunately, it has now become quite a tourist trap. Gone are the old quaint places that we visited many years ago and have been replaced with completely untraditional cheap tourist shops and then at the other end of the spectrum, the designer shops which are very expensive.

So… the bus system there is something else. The routes change on a daily basis; using certain streets during the day and others after six p.m. Unless of course it’s a Saints day or something else that may fall on this day in the Gregorian calendar. SO after standing at a bus
stop for over an hour, (it’s now dark. It wasn’t when we first arrived at the bus stop) waiting for the public transport to arrive, spoke to a hotel bus driver. Not from our hotel of course, ours didn’t have courtesy busses. And he very kindly offered to take us to as he put it, “abouta twoa hundred and fifty meters from da hotel, where I have to take anada turning.” We were happy for the lift, and what’s two hundred and fifty meters anyway . A mere ten minute walk at the most. He was true to his word, and dropped us of at the fork in the road. Now for those of you who haven’t been to Italy, pavements out of the municipal area are… how can I put it…. Yes… simply non- existent. So you walk in the quite narrow road… hoping you’re going to be safe. Well, it was dark; and no street lights, only the moon and a few passing cars. As we were walking, I became sure of one thing. The Italians have normal">no idea about time and distance normal">whatsoever. This is in fact the second time in Italy, having taken directions and time that the stated two hundred and fifty meters turned into more like nearly a mile and the ten minute walk was slightly more than forty minutes. While walking, we were hoping the hotel would always be just beyond, or round the next bend in the road, but no. it was really much very
much further.

Now would you believe, exactly the same happened to us two days later. No busses. And the same driver turned up to collect his charges for his hotel . “Itsa same problem?’ he asked and I simply nodded. “Well, hop on and I drop you off again.” Only this time he didn’t. We literally flew past our turning to our consternation heading… we knew not where? Up into the hills… somewhere. Help! We’re being busjacked. I’ve heard of plane hijacks, but this must be a first! Nothing we could do except go for the ride. About ten minutes later arriving at a hotel in the hills. And to make this situation even more bizarre; actually recognised it as being the same one we stayed at back in the seventies. How weird is this. It’s like having a déjà vu.
Anyway, the bus driver was stunned and shocked to see us! His eyes big and round at seeing us with consternation showing on his face. Realising he’d simply forgotten to drop us off!

“You musta cumma back in about one hour because I go back down da hill.” So we had a drink at the same pool we swam in oh so many years ago. And true to his word, he was back at the bus stop an hour later and after a ten minute downhill ride was dropped us off at the correct turning . So all’s well that ends well

And now, for me, one of the biggest highlights of Italy. The opera in Verona. I think it’s the best in the world. Done on a magnitude that you have to see to believe. The venue is a first century
amphitheatre that is still mostly in its original condition. The stone walls towering above the piazza with its myriad of restaurants and I still can’t work out how they managed to move these enormous blocks without the use of power cranes and stuff like that, but they did! The arena is oval in shape and the organisers take one end of the arena for the stage. That is not to say the arena is small because it still seats twenty thousand. And when I say seats,
you rent cushions as you go in because you sit on the original stone steps the ancient Romans would have done at the turn of last century. Today however, there is totally different entertainment from that of gladiators and Christians fighting. There is opera as only the Italians can do. Words sometimes fail me; the wonderful singing ... that makes the hair on my arms and back of my neck stand to attention; the enormous sets and backdrops; the orchestra of about two hundred musicians; the way the music either wafts gently up to you, or come at
you with tremendous verve and force; the atmosphere when all those seated light their little candles just before the start… I could go on and on, but for those of you who think opera may not be for you, this is one of the world’s greatest artistic spectacles. A definite thing to put on your bucket list. So, on to event itself. We met friends (Beverley and Jan), in Verona and had a wonderful time going to the performances with them. We’d booked for two operas. The first,
Madame Butterfly by Puccini and the next night, Carmen by Verdi, and it’s this one I’m going to tell you about. Where to start though. Opera in Italy is for the masses and is no way elitist as it is made out to be in other parts of the world. The four of us bought food and sat and had a picnic of wine, pizza & antipasta while sitting inside on our cushions on the ancient stone steps waiting for start when it gets dark about nine o’clock .

The musicians arrive and start tuning up. The audience all start lighting their small candles; the conductor arrives to a tumultuous applause; the ‘bong lady’, (as it’s much too big to have curtains, they have token curtains; about three yards or meters long and about two yards high; held up on poles stuck into the stage; right across the front of the proscenium. Ten minutes before the start, she comes on all dressed up in a costume akin to the opera with a huge gong of all things. She brings out a gong stick if that’s what they call it and with a flourish swishes it round the perimeter of this gong and finally gives it one huge bash in its centre with a din that can be heard all over town. She repeats this at five minutes to go and then finally just before the back stage staff remove all the curtains on poles.) The audience takes her to heart and love her by the sound of all the applause each time she bongs the gong. The seating lights dim and the stage light up brilliantly and the orchestra of about two hundred strikes up . It’s all about to happen. Now you just have to click on the picture because it turns into a video of the beginning of act four, and I know you will know and love the music. Just look at the size of it all and be amazed.

I also hope you like the other few pictures all taken on our Italian travels.

Back to the UK after this for Christmas and the birth of our first Grandchild. Now you don’t think we‘d miss this for anything do you. So if I’m not able to get another blog off before Christmas, can Dyana & I wish you and yours a very… very happy Christmas and Prosperous New Year.