ITALY in September

I fornaci by night at Ponte dell"Orso

Emilia Romagna: Ponte dell’Olio

When we planned to go to Italy with Leslie and Bob,  my main concern was that we could return to Hure fairly quickly in order to pack up before our departure and as I had never stayed in this part of Italy and, as it was within easy reach of the border with France, it seemed ideal. Despite its proximity to Milan, the area around Ponte Dell’Olio was remarkably rural . We stayed in accommodation organised by Leslie in a newer part of the old town and we were pleasantly surprised by its spaciousness and comfort. A walk down the main street revealed the town as a traditional Italian community although the  freshly built area around our accommodation, the Piazza dei Fornaci , so named because of its proximity to the old brick furnaces near by, and the brand new supermercato situated in its centre, foretold modernisation to come.

Lunch in Parma

Parma Duomo (Cathedral)

In the 6 days of our stay, we visited Parma, Piacenza and Como, all medium sized major towns of the region. Of the three, Parma was the most impressive with its impressive Duomo and attractive streets.   Of course, part of a trip to Italy was the food and in Parma, our choice  was very good pizzas which we ate enthusiastically for lunch. Como was not seen as its best as the weather had turned grey and this, coupled with what appeared to be pollution, made visibility poor. Piacenza was our homeward drink stop that day and if it hadn’t been for the fact that we drove around in a number of circles trying to link up with Leslie and Bob, we might have appreciated it more. As it was, the excellent pinot grigio and the nibbles provided at a bar near the centre were the high point.

 However all was not lost. Our visits to smaller parts of the region were more interesting. On the first night, we had a most impressive (in terms of size, taste, interest and price) meal that was enjoyed by everyone. The wine was excellent as was the pasta (local speciality was tortellini con spinaci, although we also had it con funghi.) The waiter who had been advised of our arrival by the owner of our apartment, was very helpful although I plunged on in my best Italian, since in fact he spoke no English.

In fact, one of the things I liked best about the holiday was that there were many occasions when no English was spoken and so despite its inadequacy, my Italian was required. I much prefer this type of travelling when I can use the local language although of course when I can’t, English speaking service is much appreciated.  But travel through the filter of an English speaking guide, or in an environment when the tourist trade assumes English everywhere, seems to me a little sterile.

Toasting with rosso frizzante at the Trattoria in Ponte dell'Olio

Toasting with rosso frizzante holding bowls the correct way

We discovered a few interesting aspects of the local food culture in other restaurants. In a very small trattoria in Ponte dell’Olio, with only a few locals drinking in the bar, we had an excellent introduction to local customs. Mine host, unsmilingly friendly, negotiated our meal ( he actually told us what to  have): antipasto, pasta (tortellini con funghi e spinaci, get the pattern?) and porchetta which was a sort of salted roast pork (or ham). We drank the local wine, in this case a Rosso frizzante (sparkling red), which he gave us in 1.5 litre bottles (we consumed 2 ).This was served (typically) in round white thick porcelain bowls and custom demanded that this be drunk with either the thumb or the third finger in the bowl which was supported by the other fingers. Quite easy really. We finished off with expresso coffee (particularly significant for Murray, who never touches coffee) and generous doses of grappa offered by our host.

Indeed, our visits to small towns were often more rewarding.  We set off on the first day and found a small market, and Bob discovered the challenges of driving on small Italian country roads; we visited Bossetto, the town near Verdi's birthplace, which despite his unenthusiastic lack of support, insisted on feting their local hero with the construction of a theatre in his honour. Jack and I visited late on the Tuesday, the tiny town of Vigoreno, perched high about the rest of the countryside, a tiny fortified castello, still occupied and quite beautiful in its serenity and the vista that unfolds down the hills. We returned there on Friday for a lunch of antipasto, pasta and round pig cheek parcels, all washed down by rosso frizzante (bottle 1) and a good solid still red – the joys of the sparking wine were wearing off.   Despite the cobblestone descent in the much larger but equally picturesque town of Castel d’Arquetto, we ventured from top to bottom: no mean task for Leslie, who, unencombered by George, her prosthesis, was instead settled in her wheelchair, nor for Bob and Murray who were pushing. Despite their difficulties, there is never a word of complaint,  and their positive approach often makes this self-obsessed little person feel rather small.

cattle at the market

Castello Riva, a private castle just outside Ponte dell'Olio

Inside the Verdi Theatre

Verdi

Romanesque church at Castell d'Aquetto

  

The ramparts at Vigoreno

Vigoreno from the tower

guillotine in the tower at Vigoreno

On our last night we strolled down our local street, hoping to immerse ourselves in the local atmosphere and have a drink. And we did. Bianco frizzante was on offer and not to break with tradition, I partook.  The only other offer was beer.

On Saturday morning we said goodbye to Bob and Leslie who were setting out on a much bigger travelling adventure, and returned to France. En route we stayed at Beziers, visited the fascinating nine locks just outside there to remind us of our canal trip and then we returned to Hure to pack up before our summer finally came to an end.

Dinner in Beziers

les neuf ecluses de Fonserannes

I always find it sad when our summers here in France come to an end. We are very lucky to be able to come here and spend time with our family and friends in what has become a comfortable house . As summer closes down and the sunflowers turn from a glorious yellow to a depressing brown, there is both a recognition of good times past and a sadness for their passing. I resolve again to focus on the positive and to extract from that what I can, as the future is as uncertain as the past is unchangeable.   

Off on the Canal du Midi

Canal du Midi

In September 2014, we set off for our second Canal Boat trip in France with the same friends, Leslie and Bob and with their son Murray as well. 

We had rather a hectic departure from Hure, as we had to close everything up before setting off  to meet Leslie and Bob and Murray in time to ferry them from their hire car location in Beziers to Colombiers where we our canal expedition with Canalous  was to begin. Finally they made the trip by taxi, which turned out to be the better idea after all.

Despite dire warnings from the Canalou brochure that early arrival would achieve nothing, we found that all the other early arrivers who ignored this advice, were ahead of us in the queue , and hence we were not cleared for departure until 7.45 p.m. which actually was a bit late.  This added to the frustration of some members of our party, who were keen to set off and this was not alleviated by the fact that there were many annoying problems with the boat, some of which were immediately obvious and some of which appeared gradually.

Nevertheless it was a beautiful night and the music from the  jazz quartet playing at the port where we were moored floated over the water as we ate our selection of cold cuts and salad on deck. The firework display brought the evening to a close although my nodding head prevented me from really paying attention.

A good night’s sleep on very hard beds followed although Leslie discovered rather late in the evening that her bed had been drenched by causes unknown (later ascribed to a leaking wondow).

We wait to see what else would go wrong. A Gallic shrug was required.

We set off after breakfast from Colombiers.  As occurred last time on the Canal, boat driving (steering?) was declared the province of the males on board, an agreement not disputed at all by Leslie and me, whose dignity was in no way impeached by our roles as takers of photos, and makers of beds. First stop was the village of Poilhes where, joy of joys, there was a vide grenier in progress. We had frequented many a vide grenier around Hure in search of glasses, plates and  furniture to furnish our house. At this one we just wandered, buying nothing ,except a book of Christian names (Jack – is he hoping for more pattering feet, I wonder.  A series of miracles would be necessary.)

On to Narbonne

 We stopped that night at the junction of the Canal du Midi and the Canal de la Robine which leads to Narbonne and ultimately to the Mediterranean. We dined on board under the stars. On Monday morning,  we waited for the technician from Canalou to explain to us how to operate the hotplates.  Despite being fairly expensive to hire for the week, the boat is not in tiptop condition. There is a long list of things that  don’t quite work or which leak. Nevertheless it is roomy and, if you like rock hard beds, quite comfortable. Repairs completed (or some of them), we set off to tackle the 11 locks on the way to Narbonne, stopping to eat at the only restaurant we find open but which offers a very good meal nonetheless. We arrive in time for the last lock, which should close by 7, only to find the lock keeper had taken an early mark. Tuesday morning saw us exploring the main sights of Narbonne and eating in their fabulous market. It was round about then that we realised that our canal trip was scheduled to finish in Carcassonne, which was further away than Homps, our original finishing point. So we left Narbonne, a  beautiful city at 2 to push our way back to La Somail, a very picturesque town on the Canal du Midi.

 

  

Narbonne at dusk

Narbonne by night

Lunch in Narbonne Market

Murray had by now mastered the steering of the boat and his apprenticeship completed, he took us admirably in and out of locks. His dependence on the  up-thruster which propels  rapidly when turning seemed appropriately limited. The up-thrust, when used, mostly when navigating in and out of locks, sends out a horrendous bellowing, recalling to us a mug lair on a motorbike.  Other members of the joint captaincy seemed less restrained. Indeed our navigation is not without moments. We collect more than of our share of tree branches in our travels and on one occasion, Jack overcorrected so much that we seemed likely to enter a lock backwards.

Safely returned to the Canal du Midi at Somail, we berthed for the night and the next day set off up the hill to the Chateau de Paraza for an early morning’s tasting of rose, white and red wines. We supplemented our existing stocks.

An itinerant epicerie

 We had planned a birthday dinner for Murray, celebrating during the day with multiple  chorouses of Happy Birthday, sung loudly (without appreciation) by Leslie and me, and the venue chosen was the town of Puicheric, which according to the map/book provided by the boat company had a restaurant, and all the appropriate shops. As it was not on the canal, we sailed past the first time and had to turn the boat back  in mid stream. Leslie boarded her wheel chair, and the rest of us walked/pushed up the road to the village. Unfortunately La Crise had struck: nothing was open. Nevertheless we had a few conversations with fellow travellers on bicycles who were looking for a pizza shop 5 kilometres away, and with some helpful locals. Returning to the boat we raided our supplies in the dark and feasted in the dark on what we had. Fortunately we had bought bread earlier in the day and Leslie had purchased in the Narbonne market, an enormous gateau for Murray.

Chateau  de Paraza

Carvings at L'Aiguille

 Towards Carcassonne

With two days to go we set out early, and arrived quite soon at our next double lock, l’Aiguille, a wooden lock decorated with sculptures in both wood and old agricultural metal. There were also moving scenes that  were activated on approach. 

 There are many double locks on the Canal  du Midi, so our progress was slow Murray, Jack and Bob shared the role at the wheel while the tasks of the crew were shared somewhat haphazardly. In contrast to our earlier canal trip in 2011, there are, on the Midi, lock keepers to oversee and to open locks and there were frequently three or even four boats in the lock at the one time. Without a lock keeper and with one boat in the lock, it was always necessary for one crew member to get out of the boat ahead of the lock, catch the ropes, secure them and activate the lock. With the lock keeper present, it seemed to me that we were less systematic which lead to problems. At one lock, as the water rushed in and the boat rose, it transpired that the boat was not secured. We could have thrown the rope (with some difficulty ) to the lock keeper or one of the other travellers. Murray was about to climb up the ladder of the lock to take up the rope when  75 year old Bob decided to make a leap at the ladder himself. In propelling him forward, his legs thrust the boat away and he was suspended, hanging by his arms above the rolling waters of the lock. For a moment, our hearts were in our mouths, as had he fallen he could have been trapped between the walls of the lock and the boat. Fortunately his feet found purchase on the lower rugs and he then climbed up. The lock keeper witnessing all this was somewhat unnerved, as were we.  

  

 That night we moored at Trebes where we found a Laundromat and did some much needed washing, drank a few wines in the bar and had dinner in a restaurant on the banks of the canal.

Plane Trees cut down near the canal

Burning must take place on site

Scenically the Canal du Midi still lovely. There are signs everywhere of the damage cause to the plane trees along the edges by the canker stain disease. This disease is easily transmitted and cannot be cured so ultimately it is believed that all the plane trees will be lost. Many  trees have already been cut down and burnt on the spot and many others are marked ominously with crosses and red or green spots. However there have also been many replantings of plane and other trees so the arborial heritage will be gone but trees will still line the Canal in the future providing much needed shade. Even in early September, temperatures are in the high 20’s. Across the fields can be seen wind turbines turning elegantly in the wind.

On Friday morning Jack went by taxi to Carcassonne where he wanted to check on minor repairs to our car which had been delivered there (at a cost) by the Canalou company.  We set off late in the boat after his return to our final destination and as we were required to return the boat at 9 am, we entered the town on Friday afternoon, and took the chance to go back to see Carcassonne’s old medieval city. It was not the first visit for me but it was for Leslie, Bob and Murray. Travel in a wheel chair on the cobbled steps was difficult especially for Bob and Murray who took turns to push Leslie when the terrain proved too difficult for her to manage.  We didn’t see a lot of the city but had dinner there in one of the many restaurants. Lit up at night, the medieval  city is certainly beautiful.

On the following morning, we said farewell to our boat, which had been very comfortable  despite a number of maintenance issues that caused inconvenience along the trip.  We loaded up the car with all our luggage and Leslie, Murray and I set off for the train with the intention of meeting up in Montpellier after Bob picked up the hire car at Montpellier airport.  When we arrived at the station, we took up a position in the brasserie opposite the station waiting for Bob and Jack in the (now) two cars. When Jack finally arrived and announced that Bob had been lost in the trip to the city, we were most concerned. Despite considerable anxiety on Leslie’s part, one-man  search parties by Murray and Jack and multiple phone calls (and a trip to the Commissariat by me and Murray to report his being missing), some hours later he ambled up calmly having parked his car at another station entrance. Harmony restored, we set off to Italy.

Trebes

Our final meal near the Canal