Road Trips

A Prolonged Foray to Europe: Sicily’s Baroque Towns

Posted on June 10, 2023 by WolfeStreetTravel

From Agrigento, we headed to Siracusa, in Sicily’s southeast corner. But first, we’d spend a few days in the island’s “Baroque towns.” These towns, including Modica, Ragusa, Scicli, and Noto, were all leveled during the region’s catastrophic earthquake in 1693. All of the towns were rebuilt in the same, exuberant, late-Baroque architecture – which was the style at the time – creating some of the most visually cohesive historic towns in Europe.

Each of the towns have the same characteristic Baroque, honey-colored stone architecture, dramatic staircases, and sun-drenched piazzas. But really, it’s the ornate churches that capture the essence of the Baroque towns – a prime example can be found in Chiesa di San Giovanni Evangelista in Scicli, but its siblings across the region all possess identical architectural DNA:

Of all of the towns to choose from, we decided to base ourselves in Modica for three reasons:

It was centrally located among the Baroque towns
There was an AirBnB in town WITH A POOL, which is uncommon in town, and we were obsessed during planning with having access to a pool while traveling through Sicily’s (and Italy’s, and Malta’s, and Portugal’s) hot climate
Although the town looked small, it still hosted a Michelin-starred restaurant, seemingly an assurance that it would be a charming locale in which to base ourselves

We were wrong.

It was, indeed, centrally located:

It did, indeed, have a cool AirBnB with a pool:

But, although the restaurant was on point,

the town lacked a pedestrian core and was not the most charming locale in which to base ourselves. After visiting Ragusa, we wished we had stayed there and had relegated Modica to day-trip status, a sentiment we passed on to our safari friends who had advised us on Capri and Praiano when they asked our advice when planning their trip to southern Sicily after our return.

Modica

Modica is one of Sicily’s oldest continuously inhabited settlements, with roots stretching back to the Sicels and later the Greeks, Arabs, and Normans — each leaving layers of cultural imprint before the 1693 earthquake prompted its dramatic Baroque rebuilding across two hillsides joined by a central corso. One hillside is densely settled and comprises Modica alta, the high town:

At the bottom lies Modica basso, the low town:

All of this viewed from Modica’s indominatable Castello dei Conti, a medieval fortress dating to 1272, perched on a rocky spur high above the town and reached via a long climb up steep steps.

A rather nice view of the castello from below, in Modica basso:

The town’s main drag:

And the tiniest car we’ve ever seen. This little Citroen model would pop up in several of the Baroque towns. Hilarious.

Our first (of way too many) Baroque churches. This one, a cathedral, the Duomo di San Pietro:

Put to good use hosting a wedding several days later:

And yet another, ALSO a cathedral (which we totally do not get), the Duomo of San Giorgio:

Of all of the towns and all of the churches we’d visit, we thought this one singularly captured the Baroque style – highly ornamented and be-columned, all built with the honey-tan marble:

Oh, okay – another one, this time the Church of St. John the Evangelist:

But they ain’t ALL baroque. To wit: the Rock Churrch of San Nicolo Inferiore. Discovered in 1987, the cave church dates to the 11th and 12th centuries and was abandoned following the Latinization of the island, when the Eastern (Byzantine/Greek) rite of Christianity was gradually replaced by the Western Roman (Latin) rite that followed the Norman conquest of Sicily in the 11th century .

This place was covered by the collapse of surrounding buildings during the 1693 earthquake. But check out what was preserved.

Cool carved apse:

Featuring yet another freakin’ Christ Pantocrator – clearly a fave of the Sicilians:

But we genuinely are engaged, entranced, and enthralled by troglodyte churches, with their openly exposed art applied a millennium ago and now just inches from you. Pretty incredible.

Five tombs are embedded in the center of the nave and likely date to the last phase of the building.

Outside on the streets of Modica, though, more Baroque elements – ornately carved balcony supports with lots of little characters (all of which we’d see in the other towns, too):

The town is perhaps most famous globally for its ancient chocolate-making tradition, inherited from the Aztecs via the Spanish and produced cold without cocoa butter, resulting in a grainy, intensely flavored bar that bears almost no resemblance to modern chocolate and is taken very seriously by locals. Modica’s chocolate is reputedly the closest thing one can get to the style of chocolate the Aztecs drank and ate. We tried some. Definitely an acquired taste. But we very much dug the provenance of chocolate and unique link to the Aragonese occupation of both central America and Sicily at the same time.

Our headquarters for Baroque barnstorming lay embedded in a cliff at the edge of town:

The place, both inside and out, offered LOTs of, well,

The place came with a pretty cute pool girl, which was nice:

Our post-beach lunch area:

With pasta feasts prepared by the pool girl, who proved to possess multiple talents:

The cave action outside extended inside with a cave bathroom, perhaps to complement the cave church down the street:

Although Modica was cursed with the absence of a true pedestrian core, it nonetheless sported plenty of car-free lanes in both Modica alta and Modica basso:

Ragusa

Our second Baroque town happened to be the one we SHOULD have stayed in: Ragusa. Much more charming and aligned with the WolfeStreetTravel style.

This is actually a view of Ragusa’s new town up on the hill; we did not visit.

Instead, we headed up to Ragusa Ibla – the burg’s Baroque old town.

And the passageways that typified this area of town:

Getting closer.

The heart of town:

Ragusa Ibla is the ancient, labyrinthine lower town of Ragusa, a UNESCO World Heritage Site rebuilt in glorious Baroque style after the 1693 earthquake, its honey-colored stone churches and palazzos tumbling dramatically down a rocky promontory surrounded by deep ravines.

The undisputed highlight is the Cathedral of San Giorgio, one of the masterpieces of Sicilian Baroque attributed to Rosario Gagliardi, its magnificent facade rising above a sweeping staircase and presiding over a graceful piazza that ranks among the most beautiful in all of Italy.

Another Citroen breadbox!

Above and behind the Cathedral of San Giorgio:

At last, a non-Baroque church. The Church of San Giacomo Apostolo is one of Ragusa Ibla’s oldest sacred sites, dating to the 13th or 14th century and built under the Chiaramonte family, though rebuilt into a single-nave Baroque structure after the 1693 earthquake absorbed the ruins of the adjacent church of San Teodoro. Tucked inside the beautiful Giardino Ibleo public gardens at the eastern tip of Ibla.

Dig the sundial:

And more Baroque balcony ballustrades:

And a mishap spotted on the hilly, serpentine alleys of Ragusa:

Not happy:

Portale di San Giorgio — the Gothic portal of the ancient Church of San Giorgio, which was completely destroyed in the 1693 earthquake. The original church dedicated to St. George existed as far back as 1120. The 13th-century doorway depicts St. George slaying the dragon and is now a UNESCO-protected symbol of Ragusa’s resilience — a solitary medieval portal standing alone as the sole survivor of an entire church.

Chiesa di San Giacomo Apostolo – definitely not Baroque. The church dates to the 13th century, hence its more Romanesque appearance.

Unlike our 3-month New England and eastern Canada sojourn the next year, we couldn’t run every day here, but we could walk on the coast. So we headed a few mornings to beach towns just south of Modica. Which, frankly, provided some really nice hikes.

Our first hike took us past Fornace Penna, a hauntingly beautiful industrial ruin perched on a promontory just meters from the sea near the beach town of Sampieri. The kiln was built between 1909 and 1912 to produce bricks and construction materials.

After only 14 years of operation it was destroyed by arson in 1926, and the owner chose never to rebuild it — leaving behind one of Italy’s most photogenic industrial ruins.

Little coastal view hiking into the beach town of Sampieri:

Not great.

Bodi’s out there performing for Point Break, we think.

Scicli

Our penultimate Baroque town to visit lay between Modica and the beach: Scicli.

Scicli is a UNESCO-listed Baroque town tucked dramatically into the junction of three valleys in southeastern Sicily, rebuilt in golden stone after the catastrophic 1693 earthquake and flanked by a rocky hill crowned by the abandoned Church of San Matteo.

Smaller and less visited than its neighbors Ragusa, Modica, and Noto, Scicli still offered charm and – unlike Modica – a pedestrian core.

But just like Modica alta, Scicli had plenty of steps.

Leading to a pretty decent view.

Chiesa del Rosario perched on the cliff above town.

Chiesa di San Giovanni Evangelista from the top of the post, exemplifying the Baroque style:

Jacaranda trees in Scicli, similar to those seen in another hilly town, Olvera, on our Catalonian bike trip.

Noto

And finally, a stopover in Noto, on the drive from Modica to Siracusa.

Noto is known as “the Capital of Baroque,” so our visits to its brethren apparently were just the warm up to the real deal. The main street, Corso Vittorio Emanuele, is, indeed lined with ornate churches and palaces that make the whole town feel like an open-air museum.

Little lunch in Noto, featuring both Neapolitan crusts and Sicilian pistachios.

Noto’s cathedral:

And more Baroque balcony buddies:

Pretty great view over town from the roof of the Church of St. Charles Borromeo:

St. Mary’s bells in Old Town are better. . .

On our final night in the Baroque towns, we finally checked the Michelin-starred box for dinner in Modica at Accursio – one of the four best dining experiences of the trip, and our introduction to Sicily’s orange wine:

Wrapping up for the night before hitting the road the next morning:

Next up: Syracuse / Siracusa.

Categories: A Prolonged Foray to Europe, Sicily | Tags: Baroque Towns, Europe, Italy, modica, noto, photography, ragusa, Ragusa Ibla, scicli, Sicily, travel | Leave a comment

A Prolonged Foray to Europe: Syracuse / Siracusa

Posted on June 10, 2023 by WolfeStreetTravel

After a little less than a week barnstorming Baroque burgs, we headed further east, to the palpably historic quasi-island of Syracuse.

Founded by Corinthian Greeks (not the Doric Greeks) in 734 BC, Siracusa (Syracuse) rose to become one of the most powerful city-states in the Mediterranean. At its peak under the tyrant Dionysius I in the 4th century BC, it rivaled Athens itself in wealth, population, and military might. It was here that Archimedes was born and conducted his legendary experiments, here that the Athenian fleet suffered one of history’s most catastrophic military defeats in 413 BC, and here that Cicero served as quaestor, later calling it the most beautiful city in the Greek world. All concentrated on the small island of Ortigia (and the surrounding mainland).

View from the bridge between the mainland and Ortigia (although you’re never really aware that you’re on an island, inasmuch as this is the extent of the separation):

Siracusa’s extraordinary layering of Greek, Roman, Byzantine, Arab, Norman, and Aragonese civilizations (and Baroque architecture) earned it UNESCO World Heritage status in 2005.

Exiting our hotel, we immediately run into ruins: ironically a Doric temple to Apollo from the 6th century BC:

The Greek temple, unintentionally functioning as a snapshot of Sicily’s many cultural and religious layers of history, served later as a Byzantine church, an Arab mosque, a Norman basilica, and the Aragonese Church of Sanata Maria della Grazie as part of a Spanish barracks. It was finally demolished in 1864 – all of those layers of history reduced now to a mere archeological vestige of its prior history.

Our little Sicilian trinacria buddy embossed on a nearby building:

The winding alleyways of Ortigia in Syracuse:

One of which brought us here, to Chiesa di San Filippo Apostolo:

But our interest here lay not in the plain-Jane church (not even Baroque ornamental!). . .

but what lies beneath:

Immediately under the church floor lies an initial, pretty standard subterranean crypt level with 18th-century frescoes, burial chambers, and funerary chapels. This space was occupied by a confraternity, a Catholic religious brotherhood attached to a church — essentially a lay religious society rather than monks or priests — that frequently used underground burial and meeting space beneath the church.

Some pretty wild mortality imagery throughout the crypt.

Then, descending below this initial subterranean level, we come to a more unusual underground labyrinth: WWII bomb-shelters beneath Chiesa di San Filippo Apostolo. These tunnels originally were part of an ancient Greek and Greco-Roman underground water and hypogeum network that stretches beneath Ortigia toward the sea.

During the Allied bombing campaigns of 1943, the tunnels sheltered more than 10,000 civilians, and the walls still preserve wartime graffiti including drawings of British aircraft and parachutes sketched by people hiding underground during the raids.

Pretty accurate.

Heading further in and down.

There’s a well carved into the rock that dates to around 734 BC, when Corinthian settlers first founded Syracuse. But in the 15th century, Jews living on Ortigia built a spiral staircase leading down to the well 18 meters below their synagogue on the street level above.

And converted the ancient Hellenistic freshwater spring well to their mikveh, a bath for ritual immersion to achieve purity. It is considered among the oldest surviving mikvehs in Europe.

The community abandoned the mikveh after the 1492 expulsion of Sicily’s Jews under Spanish rule, and it was gradually forgotten for centuries until it was rediscovered and formally identified in 1977 beneath the church built atop the former synagogue site.

More layers of Sicilian cultural history that we definitely dug during our time on the island.

But wait, there’s even more!

Check out the Cathedral of Syracuse (Duomo di Siracusa). Just another ornamental Baroque church in Sicily, no?

Maybe from the front facade, but when you peek around the corner. . .

Look at this shit! It’s actually a 5th-century BC Doric temple originally dedicated to Athena by the tyrant Gelon after his victory at the Battle of Himera. A quick note on “tyrant” because we’ve used it twice in one post now and it probably gives the wrong impression. As articulated effectively in Sicily: Three Thousand Years of Human History (read while here, as noted in our Sicily leg intro post), a tyrant in the Greek colonies was simply someone who had seized or inherited sole rule rather than governing through the established aristocratic or democratic institutions of the city-state. In the Sicilian colonies, tyranny was often a pragmatic response to the intense pressures these communities faced: constant military threats from Carthage, competition between rival Greek cities, and the need for swift, unified military leadership that deliberative bodies could not always provide. So, not a tyrannical ruler; just one who took sole rule for himself.

The best part about the temple-cum-duomo is the side wall, where the Normans simply filled in between the Doric columns of the Greek temple to create a Christian church, leaving them in place, rather than razing the place and rebuilding as was the norm. Oh, and in between, of course, the Arabs repurposed the temple as a mosque, of course.

Inside the duomo, which was palpably medieval and beefy.

But still with the visually evident Doric columns of the original Greek temple.

And more cool mortality motifs.

Out in the piazza of the duomo – pretty great day.

Dunno – some other picturesque church. With twisted columns like we saw in Lecce while biking through Puglia in 2013.

At the extreme southern tip of Ortigia lies Castello Maniace, a citadel named after the Byzantine general George Maniakes who seized Syracuse from the Arabs in 1038, although the present structure was built between 1232 and 1240 under Holy Roman Emperor Frederick II.

With four cylindrical corner towers, the massive castle later served as the site where Frederick of Aragon signed a truce with the Angevins in 1302.

And just up the promenade? A casual joint for early aperitivos.

With a nice view of the aquatic activities available in the castle’s shadow.

Some decent oysters, to be expected, with a first-time-encountered ginger spray, which was not expected.

And now for something completely different: Greek and Roman ruins in Syracuse adjacent to Ortigia.

The Greeks built a theater at Syracuse around 470 BC, with a capacity of around 15,000 spectators and a diameter of nearly 140 meters.

It was among the largest theaters in the ancient world, and served as the premiere venue for works by Aeschylus — including the world premieres of The Persians and The Women of Etna — as well as tragedies by Sophocles and Euripides.

Carved directly into the rock of the Temenite hill, the theater was rebuilt in the 3rd century BC and renovated again in the Roman period, when traces of adaptations for gladiatorial battles and beast spectacles were added, and it continues to host a celebrated summer festival of classical drama to this day.

A necropolis above the Greek theater:

Containing the Via dei Sepolcrri – the Street of Tombs.

One of the tombs.

And the Grrotta del Nifeo, where the waters of the Anapo flow and where actors once prepared before performing in the theater.

The Latomie del Paradiso — ancient stone quarries to the east of the Greek theater.

The Ear of Dionysius, a multistory-tall cave carved into the limestone:

The cave’s extraordinary shape amplifies sound to remarkable effect.

They were once used to imprison captured enemies of the tyrant Dionysius I, and are now lush with lemon groves and fragrant vegetation.

Evidence of quarrying:

And across the archeological park, the remains of the Roman amphitheater:

The Roman Amphitheater is largely excavated into the rock, utilizing the slope of a rocky crag, with a central arena featuring a large rectangular space originally covered and connected by underground passages to house the machinery and animals used during spectacles.

In the 16th century the Spanish, indifferent to its archaeological value, quarried much of the amphitheater’s large stone blocks to build the defensive city walls of Ortigia, leaving it in the partial, overgrown ruin visible today.

And on the way back from town? A little stop at the Catacomba di San Giovanni. The site sits beneath the ruined Basilica of San Giovanni — itself a place of extraordinary sacred history, where St. Paul is said to have preached and St. Marcian founded the first Christian community in Syracuse — and the catacombs were later used as an air-raid shelter during World War II, which is why no bones remain there today.

The Catacombs of San Giovanni were excavated for the most part between 315 and 360 AD, following the Edict of Constantine that established freedom of Christian worship, and remained in use as an early Christian cemetery until the end of the 5th century — making them, for size, the second largest catacombs in Italy after those of Rome.

Unlike the subterranean adventure under Chiesa di San Filippo Apostolo, the catacombs here required us to don a little liability-reducing protective gear. (Also, we weren’t supposed to take pictures, just like at the monastery of creepy corpses in Palermo, but some urges cannot be resisted.)

To save labor, the tunnels were initially opened along the route of a disused Greek aqueduct, traces of which are still visible on the ceiling of the main gallery, while existing cisterns along the route were converted into funeral chapels for distinguished families — a characteristically Syracusan layering of Greek infrastructure repurposed for Christian use.

The layout of the catacombs mirrors the Roman military camp, with a central gallery (the decumanus maximus) from which ten secondary corridors branch off, leading to four large circular rooms — the Rotonda di Antiochia, the Rotonda Marina, the Rotonda di Adelphia, and the Rotonda dei Sarcofagi — that were once the ancient cisterns of the Greek aqueduct.

A nested set of at least 12 tombs in a niche along one wall of the catacombs; the whole labyrinth was pocked like this.

Back in town for some lunch – pretty atmospheric place.

The last of our two nights here, with a few nightcaps on the hotel rooftop.

Onward to Mount Etna!

Categories: A Prolonged Foray to Europe, Sicily | Tags: blog, Catacombs of San Giovanni, Chiesa di San Filippo Apostolo, Europe, Italy, mikveh, Ortigia, Sicily, siracusa, syracuse, travel | Leave a comment

A Prolonged Foray to Europe: Hiking Mount Etna (Due Volte)

Posted on June 10, 2023 by WolfeStreetTravel

Between Siracusa and our next destination of Taormina in the northeast of Sicily lay Mount Etna.

This is not Mount Etna.

But it is a little old caldera from a prior eruption that happened to be located on the side of the road near the trailhead we were targeting.

So we popped up for a quick look. Meh.

Mount Etna climb Day 1: Schiena dell’Asino on the south rim of the current caldera.

The initial trail was composed of old lava, which made for pretty slow progress initially.

But the substrate evolved into cinders as we climbed – easier on the soles, but holy shit did this stuff pour into your shoes, resulting in a rather different flavor of discomfort.

Still, some nice views as we approached the rim.

And an old lava flow. Given Mount Etna’s not-infrequent eruptions, this could have been from last year or last century.

Mount Etna is Europe’s largest and most active volcano, erupting frequently for thousands of years as the African and Eurasian tectonic plates interact beneath the island.

Helpful trail blazes.

Getting closer. . .

And behold, the underwhelming view of the caldera from the south:

Still – a good hike!

A well-deserved lunch at the top; we picked up sandwiches from a little town on our drive, which worked out to be just what we needed.

Oasis for the night well downslope from Etna:

Minibar wine grown nearby from Mount Etna volcanic soil.

And a dinner rather unlike our lunch.

Our destination off in the near distance seen the next morning from our terrace:

Mount Etna hiking Day 2: Serracozzo, reached from the trailhead at Rifugio Citelli (which had plenty of parking, which was great).

A little local wildlife spotted as we began:

Fantastic day for a hike, seriously. Or at least it started that way. . .

And more fields of granular, sock-seeking cinders:

More old lava flows:

A year before our visit in June 2023, dramatic lava fountains and ash plumes flowed from Etna in February and May 2022.

And a feature on the hike we had no advance knowledge of (we just thought this had a reasonable starting point with a different finale on the caldera’s rim):

Grotta di Serracozzo, a lava flow tunnel formed during the 1971 eruption.

We would have noticed the unusual formation and then kept hiking had it not been for this older Italian hiker motioning us over. He didn’t speak English, but kept pointing down to this and making hiking signs with his fingers. So we clambered down.

And in:

Holy shit!

Definitely a highlight of the hike!

And now, back to cinder. ella.

WAY better view from this side of the rim:

And this baby’s still cooking:

Specfreakintacular.

We hiked back down, got back in our trusty Citroen, and headed to our final stop in Sicily: Taormina.

Categories: A Prolonged Foray to Europe, Sicily | Leave a comment

A Prolonged Foray to Europe: Taormina, Sicily (Prima Parte)

Posted on June 10, 2023 by WolfeStreetTravel

The charming town of Taormina was to be the final stop on the Sicily leg of our prolonged foray. (Map and overview of the full foray is posted here.) If you’re following along, we have only three legs left after Sicily.

Perched high above the Ionian Sea, Taormina was founded by the Sicels and later became an important Greek settlement after refugees from the nearby colony of Naxos just south of Taormina’s current location relocated there in the 4th century BC (stay tuned later this year for a post covering travel to Naxos the Greek island, which is upcoming). The town flourished under Greek and then Roman rule, leaving behind its most famous monument, the spectacular Ancient Theatre of Taormina (which we’ll get to in the next post), whose stage frames views of both the sea and Mount Etna. Through the Byzantine, Arab, Norman, and Spanish periods, Taormina retained its strategic hilltop position and developed into one of Sicily’s most historically layered and visually dramatic towns.

Taormina’s 12th-century Porta Messina on the north end of town (where you would enter the town if you were coming from Messina to the north in the olden days; or from the gondola at sea level now):

And on the other end of town, the 15th-century Aragonese Porta Catania (replete with the Spaniards’ coat of arms), facing south to Catania (where we’d fly out of in several days):

And snaking between the two? Corso Umberto, Taormina’s main street.

Like the one-road Baroque town of Noto visited a week or so earlier, Taormina indeed is replete with streets, but there’s only one main drag and singular main event.

But what a fantastic main drag it is – way more restaurants, bars, and shops than Noto and incredibly appealing. Beginning in the 19th century, Taormina became a celebrated stop on the European Grand Tour, attracting artists, writers, aristocrats, and intellectuals drawn by its scenery, mild climate, and classical ruins. Today it remains one of the Mediterranean’s most stylish destinations, combining luxury hotels, elegant boutiques, refined dining, and breathtaking views in a setting that feels both sophisticated and timeless.

The corso appears packed here, but everything’s flowing and there was never any sense that we had embroiled ourselves in an overtaxed Positano-type situation.

Plus, the occasional religious festival procession winding its way down the corso – in this case, celebrating the Feast of Saint Anthony of Padua (that’s him on the litter); we think maybe they’re taking the lazy way out of this by proceeding with a litter on wheels instead on shoulders, like in Godfather II and Godfather III:

And around the midway point on Corso Umberto lies Piazza IX Aprile and Porta di Mezzo – the midway tower:

Because Taormina is perched on a cliff, Piazza IX Aprile offers a great belvedere with views of the coast below:

View into the corso under the clock tower:

Medieval palazzo off the corso, with a vibrant jacaranda tree in bloom, to boot.

Taormina’s second square (second to Piazza IX Aprile, of course): the Piazza Duomo:

There’s the duomo. And, uh, there’s the Quatro Fontanes (Four Fountains):

Topped by a female centaur – apparently the historic emblem of Taormina. She wears a crown and holds a scepter in one hand and a globe surmounted by a cross in the other—symbols of civic authority and power. Regardless, super weird.

Heading to the duomo, the Cathedral of Saint Nicholas of Bari, the popular bishop-saint whose cult spread widely throughout southern Italy and Sicily.

The duomo looks more like a castle than a church. Built from massive stone blocks and topped with battlements, it was designed as an ecclesia munita—a fortified church capable of providing refuge during periods of instability. This defensive appearance earned it the nickname “Cathedral Fortress” and reflects the turbulent medieval history of Sicily.

But the interior of the 13th- and 14th-century duomo looks pretty standard.

Down (and to the left) we encounter the 2nd-century AD Roman “Naumachie,” a long brick wall punctuated with niches, likely to house statues. Buried and unknown for a millenia and a half, the moniker was incorrectly (just like in Agrigento) applied by a Dutch scholar in the 18th century, who figured – and why not? – that the structure hosted naval battles.

The massive wall did function as the barriers of a reservoir to supply a gymnasium or massive municipal fountain complex.

But enough history; aperitivo hour is approaching with the setting sun and we needed to locate a decent perch.

This will do.

With a great view over the coast and also a glimpse of what once was a 14th-century Dominican monastery. . .

But now houses the Four Seasons and the setting for Season 2 of White Lotus (they were closed to outside visitors due to a private event when we were there, otherwise we would have checked it out).

Pretty great town.

To actually reach town (through Porta Messina), we had to walk about 2 blocks from our AirBnB to catch the gondola at this station, since Taormina is high up on a cliff, visible at the top of the pic:

You grab your tickets while in line, and head on up; we never had to wait more than a few minutes – pretty efficient system.

Why would we stay a gondola ride from town instead of nestled within centro storico? Because this:

Pretty great setting in the Sicilian heat.

Because we were fixated on lodging with pools, we snagged this thing probably 6 months before we headed off for our prolonged foray.

Great view of Isola Bella – Beautiful Island. King Ferdinand I of the Two Sicilies donated the island to the town of Taormina in 1806. In 1890, Florence Trevelyan purchased it, built a small retreat, and transformed the island into a botanical sanctuary filled with tropical and subtropical species that thrived in Sicily’s climate. The Sicilian government acquired the island in 1990, and it later became a protected nature reserve. And unofficial symbol of Taormina.

Oh, and we’d occasionally see the goofy tourist sub (ubiquitous in coastal towns, it seems) go out and back from our place.

And also the occasional yacht.

Definitely the right place to stay for our Taormina tour.

Categories: A Prolonged Foray to Europe, Sicily | Tags: Cathedral of Saint Nicholas of Bari, Corso Umberto, Europe, Feast of Saint Anthony of Padua, Isola Bella, Italy, Naumachie, Piazza IX Aprile, porta catania, Porta di Mezzo, porta messina, Quatro Fontanes, Sicily, taormina, travel | 2 Comments

A Prolonged Foray to Europe: Taormina, Sicily (Parte Seconda)

Posted on June 10, 2023 by WolfeStreetTravel

Taormina offered three notable experiences during our stay:

The town itself
An epic hike to Castelmola high above Taormina
Taormina’s spectacular Roman theater

Our last post addressed the first item above. This second one will bring completion to the triad.

Hike to Castelmola

To reach Castelmola, we hiked the Sentiero dei Saraceni (Path of the Saracens):

But to reach the trailhead, we first had to leave our place on the water, take the gondola to Taormina’s centro storico, then wind through town, and then finally deviate from the well-trod Corso Umberto to climb through the labyrinthine streets in the old town’s outskirts. THEN the real climbing began.

The trail takes its name from the ancient road used by Arab forces during their siege of Taormina in 902 AD.

The path itself is an old trazzera — a Sicilian dialect word for a country track — worn into the landscape by the constant passage of mules and horses through a wild terrain of fig trees and prickly pears.

Although not nearly as taxing as the Path of the Gods (Sentiero degli Dei) that we hiked on the Amalfi Coast earlier in the trip, the 7+ mile hike did have 1220 feet of ascent. And we also hiked on a pretty hot day. (In addition to the route on the map below, you can also identify Isola Bella and our AirBnB location on the right side.)

The path is an ancient way to access Castelmola from the southern slope of Monte Tauro, the mountain that looms above Taormina. Starting from Piazza Duomo in Taormina, the initial walk winds through the town’s streets, then the trail transitions to a combination of dirt and rocks — mostly steep stone steps.

You definitely get rewarded with some great views along the way.

And a forest of cactus.

A sign that we’re reaching the apex of our hike at the hill town of Castelmola:

The site was first fortified by the Byzantines around 800 AD, serving as an outpost for and above Taormina. In 902, the fortification fell to Muslim forces after fierce resistance. The Saracens broke into Castelmola’s forts and destroyed much of the village, sparing only the castle — and the access gate to the historic centre is still called the Porta dei Saraceni because of this event.

In 1078, Norman Count Roger I reconquered the area and built a new castle incorporating the original walls. Most of what remains today dates to a 16th-century version of the structure. A 10th-century plaque with Greek-Byzantine engravings on the cathedral façade reads: “This castle was built under Constantine, patrician and strategist of Sicily” — almost certainly referring to Costantino Caramalo, who defended the territory from Arab attacks in the 9th century.

Throughout later centuries, Castelmola sided with the Swabians and Aragonese against the Angevins, eventually becoming part of the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies in 1738 and then the Kingdom of Italy in 1860.

In addition to some great historical context for Castelmola’s many lives, this recitation also recalls the convenient history-of-Sicily-on-a-t-shirt introduction in our first Sicily post. (The t-shirt, as it happens, actually was spotted during our stay here in Taormina.)

Regardless of the events that led up to Castelmola’s current iteration, it proved to be a pretty charming little hill town.

With a little cafe just for WolfeStreetTravel’s resident figeater:

And then there’s Castelmola’s chief attraction:

Bar Turrisi, or. . .

the dick bar.

The bar was founded in 1947 by Salvatore Turrisi, who later had three sons in 5 years and decided to celebrate this by absolutely filling this place with dicks.

It’s a riot of phallic symbols (all of them, btw, created exclusively by Sicilian artisans, for what it’s worth):

After some beers and pizza, we headed back down to Taormina, where our oasis awaited.

Definitely a welcome respite after the hike.

Roman Theater

Taormina’s Teatro Antico offered the last of the three highlights during our stay.

Although its known for the role it played during the Roman period, the theatre originally was constructed during the Hellenistic period, circa 265–215 BC. It is one of the oldest theatres in Magna Graecia to feature a curved cavea rather than the older trapezoidal design. The structure was carved directly into the rocky hillside of Monte Tauro, using the natural slope in the classical Greek manner to create optimal sightlines and acoustics.

Originally designed for dramatic performances, it hosted plays by ancient Greek playwrights such as Sophocles, Aeschylus, and Euripides. These performances were often part of religious festivals and reflected the myths and social issues of the time. Acoustics were engineered so that even whispers on stage could be heard in the highest seats.

During the Roman rule over Sicily, the Romans did not merely maintain the theatre — they systematically rebuilt and repurposed it over roughly two centuries, in three distinct phases.

Phase I & II — Expansion under Trajan and Hadrian (98–138 AD)

The major Roman renovation expanded the cavea, modified the retaining walls to run parallel with the stage, and constructed an elaborate multi-story scaenae frons (the ornate architectural backdrop behind the stage). This phase created the theatre in its most magnificent form. The first intervention enlarged the theatre’s capacity with the construction of an external ambulatory and a complete reconstruction of the scaenae frons. Scholarly research confirms the architectural ornament of that stage front is definitively Trajanic or Hadrianic in style — and the architect of the theatre at Taormina used illusionistic column effects closely similar to those at the South Theater at Gerasa, suggesting Eastern influence on its design.

Phase III — Conversion to Arena (Late 2nd / Early 3rd Century AD)

The second Roman intervention involved changes to the stage and an expansion of the orchestra to transform the theatre into an arena capable of hosting gladiatorial games. A ring corridor was built, closed by a raised parapet, along with underground spaces used as shelters for equipment and animal cages. Three vaulted passageways were built under the scaenae frons to provide access for gladiators and animals.

Phase III — Conversion to Arena (Late 2nd / Early 3rd Century AD)

A view up to Castelmola, the destination of our hike the previous day and home to the dick bar.

The theatre has a horseshoe-shaped cavea with a diameter of 107–109 meters, an orchestra measuring 28–29 meters across (later expanded to 34 meters during the arena conversion), and a seating capacity estimated at 8,900 to 11,150 spectators across more than 40 rows divided into nine cunei and three maeniani (levels). It is the second largest of its kind in Sicily, behind only the Greek Theatre of Syracuse.

The setting is arguably the theatre’s most famous feature. Oriented to face south-southwest, it frames a panorama of Mount Etna and the Ionian Sea simultaneously — a view that has captivated visitors for millennia.

During the Middle Ages, parts of the theatre were reused to build private residences and religious buildings, including Taormina Cathedral. It was the Grand Tour of the 18th and 19th centuries that restored the theatre to international fame. Johann Wolfgang von Goethe visited in 1787 and wrote in his famous Italian Journey: “Never has a theatre audience enjoyed such a view.” His words became perhaps the most quoted description of the site and drew generations of European travelers in his wake.

The theatre today is far more than a museum piece — it remains an active cultural venue. Since 1983 it has hosted the Taormina Arte festival and other cultural events. Since 1971, the Taormina Film Fest has been held in the Ancient Theatre, with premieres and new film screenings taking place here.

Final night in Taormina (and in Sicily):

On to Malta!

Categories: A Prolonged Foray to Europe, Sicily | Tags: Sicily, taormina, Taormina Teatro Antico, Taormina theater, Teatro Antico, Turrisi, Turrisi bar | Leave a comment

A Prolonged Foray to Europe: Valletta Area, Malta

Posted on June 10, 2023 by WolfeStreetTravel

From Taormina, Sicily, we flew a very short hop to the island nation of Malta, country no. 79 for WolfeStreetTravel (and one we’d been eying ever since planning The Smallest 5 for the Big 5-0 trip to Europe’s micronations in 2017).

Malta also represents the third-to-last leg of our post-retirement prolonged foray to Europe trip, the overview and map of which are posted here. We’d spend 4 nights in Malta, and the dry little island nation did not disappoint.

Malta’s Grand Harbor upon arrival:

The island’s history includes Phoenician, Carthaginian, and Roman occupation before the Arabs transformed it between 870 and 1090 AD, leaving a lasting imprint on the Maltese language, which remains Semitic at its core.

The Normans then took Malta, beginning a long stretch of Christian rule that culminated in 1530 when Holy Roman Emperor Charles V granted the island to the Knights Hospitaller after the order lost their previous base of operations, the island of Rhodes, to the Ottoman Turks. (The emperor also granted them the city of Tripoli in modern Libya, but the Ottomans ran them out of town there, as well, leaving them with only Malta [and a small town in the Holy Roman Empire, which they controlled until the early 19th century and Napoleon]).

While under Hospitaler control, the Ottomans continued their westward expansion across the Mediterranean, and targeted Malta as their next conquest. In 1565, the Hospitallers – left essentially to fend for themselves – repelled a prolonged Ottoman siege in one of history’s most dramatic defensive stands. Pretty epic tale. (And a good read – we finished Empires of the Sea: The Siege of Malta, the Battle of Lepanto, and the Contest for the Center of the World before we arrived to give us a good feel for what we were getting into; definitely recommended if you’re into that sort of thing.) After fending off the siege, the Hospitalers transformed some fortifications opposite the Grand Harbor into their capital city and named it Valletta after Jean Parisot de Valette, their Grand Master, who led the defense of the island.

Britain took control of Malta in 1800 after helping the Maltese expel the French forces that had occupied the island following Napoleon Bonaparte’s invasion in 1798. Although Britain initially intervened as an ally, it retained Malta because its central Mediterranean location and excellent natural harbor made it a vital naval base for protecting British trade routes and projecting military power. Britain refused to return the island as required by the Treaty of Amiens, and Malta remained a British colony until it gained independence in 1964.

During Britain’s rule of the island in WWII, Malta became a critical naval hub and endured one of the most sustained aerial bombardments of the entire war, earning the troops the George Cross collectively from King George VI in 1942. Fort Angelo on the peninsula of Birgu, which was manned by the British Navy during WW II, seen from across the harbor from the peninsula of Senglea (we’d eventually visit it):

Malta gained independence in 1964, became a republic in 1974, and joined the European Union in 2004, completing a journey from ancient temple-builders to modern European democracy in one of the Mediterranean’s most strategically contested stretches of rock.

Our hotel in the background was located in a decommissioned fortress on Senglea, one of Malta’s historic Three Cities on a spit of land across the Grand Harbor from Valetta, the capital city.

First lunch in town on Senglea – pretty great start to our stay (we’d return there for our final dinner):

Walking along the Grand Harbor; we stayed on the left, the peninsula of Senglea; the parallel peninsula of Birgu is to the left, and Valletta itself is straight ahead.

The fortifications around Valletta, passed as we arrived from the water taxi stand many stories below the city elevation (there’s an outdoor elevator to get you from there to here):

The narrow and atmospheric streets of Valletta:

Punctuated by the city’s uniquely characteristic and multicolored gallarija:

“The gallarija is considered a descendant of the Maltese muxrabija, and it is closely related to the mashrabiya which are typical in Arabic architecture. . . [which consist of] an ornate timber screen, perforated with an intricate network of holes, tightly fitted into a window or loggia. . . Muxrabijet had the task to keep the interior of the building cool by allowing circulation of air through the carved wood. They were also used as cooling device for storing water, and as a security measure to observe the outside without being seen.“

Pretty much every single street in Valletta was flanked by gallarija.

A city of limestone, punctuated by brightly colored wood elements. Pretty picturesque.

Water taxi ride back to Senglea:

Our hotel occupied one of the Hospitalers’ old fortresses, which was freakin’ awesome. The walls in the rooms were 3′ thick and you could feel the history. Plus, this pool:

Pretty great perch of the Grand Harbor.

View from our room’s cannon embrasure-cum-window:

Very cool little harbor area off the Grand Harbor on Birgu that was, um, harboring a very nice restaurant.

Access to the restaurant was gained through the abandoned tunnels of Fort St. Angelo.

After walking around, sailing around, and walking under Fort St. Angelo, we finally decided to actually visit the place.

“The fort was garrisoned by the British from 1800 to 1979, at times being classified as a stone frigate known as HMS Egmont or later HMS St Angelo. The fort suffered considerable damage during World War II, but it was later restored.“

Map of the fortifications with dates delineating the evolution of the fort from the Hospitalers’ era in the 1500s (and even earlier to 1091 for one of the chapels that predated – by a long stretch – their arrival) to the 1940s:

View over to Senglea across the harbor:

Inside a watchtower on the very tip of the fort and of Birgu; the tip of Senglea is out the right window, but you can’t tell.

Another evening in Malta after a day trip to Mdina, which will cover in another post. Unbelievable weather the entire time, though.

Unexpected fireworks towards the end of dinner:

The dome of Hospitalers’ (Order of St. John’s / Knights of St. John’s) St. John Co-Cathedral in Valletta:

St. John’s Co-Cathedral was built between 1573 and 1578 by the Knights of St. John as their conventual church following the Great Siege of Malta, with its austere exterior designed by Maltese architect Girolamo Cassiere concealing one of the world’s most lavish Baroque interiors.

It’s a co-cathedral (we had never heard of this before) because the original (and still) bishop’s seat on Malta was in the interior town of Mdina at St. Paul’s Cathedral. But the Hospitalers new one got recognized by the Pope, as well, and he granted it equal cathedral status, as a co-cathedral. One bishop, two cathedrals. Pretty wild.

Today, the co-cathedral is Malta’s most important religious and artistic monument, symbolizing the power and legacy of the Knights Hospitaller while serving as one of Europe’s finest examples of Baroque architecture and a centerpiece of Valletta’s UNESCO World Heritage status.

Spectacular ceiling of the co-cathedral

Way better to us was the floor – the entire place was occupied by elaborate tombs of the Knights of St. John:

Most of which included macabre elements, to our delight:

One of the greatest treasures of St. John’s Co-Cathedral and one of the masterpieces of Western art is Caravaggio’s The Beheading of Saint John the Baptist (1608). It’s the cathedral’s most famous work and the reason many art lovers travel to Malta.

It’s significant for the following reasons:

It is Caravaggio’s largest painting. Measuring roughly 3.6 × 5.2 meters (12 × 17 feet), it is the largest canvas he ever painted and one of the few works created specifically as an altarpiece.
It is Caravaggio’s only signed painting. If you look near the pool of blood beneath John the Baptist’s neck, you’ll find the artist’s signature: “f. Michelangelo” (“Fra Michelangelo”), written in the blood. He signed it this way because he had just been admitted as a Knight of the Order of St. John—a unique moment in his tumultuous life.

Saint Jerome Writing, also by Caravaggio, painted around 1607–1608 during his stay in Malta, depicting Saint Jerome translating the Bible into Latin, with the skull symbolizing the fleeting nature of life.

Check out the discrete Maltese cross Caravaggio included in the bottom right of the painting, paying homage to the patrons who funded it. . .

Next up: Mdina, Malta, and then, finally, some biking.

Categories: A Prolonged Foray to Europe, Malta | Tags: Birgu, Europe, Fort St. Angelo, Gallarija, history, Hospitalers, Malta, Senglea, St. John Co-Cathedral, travel, Valletta | Leave a comment

A Prolonged Foray to Europe: Mdina, Malta

Posted on June 10, 2023 by WolfeStreetTravel

While staying in the Valletta area, we grabbed an Uber for a field trip to Mdina, the Maltese capital’s forerunner until the 16th century. After the Knights of St. John made the new fortified town of Valletta their capital after the Great Siege of 1565, Mdina faded in significance and slid into backwater status significantly enough to be nicknamed the “Silent City.” Based on our stroll throughout town, this is pretty apt, although Silent Sunburnt City may be even more on brand.

Founded as a fortified settlement by the Phoenicians around the 8th century BC, the town later became the Roman city of Melite. Under Arab rule beginning in the 9th century, it was reduced and fortified into the compact medieval city that became known as Mdina. (The Arabs also separated the fortified city from the surrounding area—creating what became Mdina, literally the city, while the adjoining suburb became Rabat, meaning suburb or quarter in Arabic. We’d visit both during our little field trip.)

Mdina’s Baroque Main Gate, dating from 1724. Built during the rule of the Hospitallers, it replaced the medieval entrance that was destroyed during the 1693 Sicily earthquake nearby (which gave rise to the Baroque Towns we visited just prior, in Sicily).

The gate is flanked by two lions, which are associated with Antonio Manoel de Vilhena, the Grand Master of the Order of St. John in Malta during the late 18th century, as well as Vilhena’s coat of arms over the gate proper.

Extant fortifications of the city on either side.

Inside Mdina proper, on the other side of the Main Gate:

And this is what the entire town is like: sun-baked, narrow alleyways flanked by golden limestone:

Punctuated occasionally by colorful doors and knockers:

Heading back through the Main Gate, and down the street. . .

to Rabat, the ancient suburbs of Mdina. Replete with Valletta-style gallarija.

And down the street, much to the excitement of one and definitely not the other WolfeStreetTravler, to. . .

More catacombs! This will be our fourth set on this trip alone; first in Matera, then, the absolute grossest in Palermo, and TWO in Syracusa.

St. Paul’s Catacombs, located in Rabat just outside Mdina, form one of Malta’s most important ancient burial complexes, dating primarily from the Phoenician, Roman and Byzantine periods, but they continued to be actively used into the 7th or 8th century AD.

Carved into the island’s soft limestone, the underground complex contains an intricate network of burial chambers, corridors and rock-cut tombs that once formed part of a much larger cemetery outside of what was the Phoenician (and later Roman) settlement of Melite that predates Mdina and Rabat.

Hundreds of tombs across a complex of 24 interconnected catacombs are down here.

Most are now empty.

Some most certainly are not.

Every space was optimize to fit more bodies in.

Although tradition associates the catacombs with St. Paul, who was said to have been shipwrecked on Malta in AD 60, there is no archaeological evidence that he ever visited or was buried here. What makes the site especially compelling is the coexistence of pagan, Jewish and Christian burial traditions, offering a remarkable glimpse into Malta’s religious and cultural transformation during late antiquity.

Heading back out.

What to do now that we’re back in the glorious sunshine of a Maltese afternoon?

More catacombs! This time St. Agatha’s, just down the road. (This pretty much put an end to the catacomb visits; one of the WolfeStreetTravelers definitely had enough of this nonsense during the current trip, although her indulgence up until now was pretty amazing.)

Unlike St. Paul’s, which has one central entrance, the catacomb complex at St. Agatha’s offered multiple, small individual entrances / access shafts.

Entering each catacomb was a little reminiscent of Maxwell Smart and the phone booth at the start of the show.

As with St. Paul’s, St. Agatha’s catacombs complex contain a mixture of Phoenician/Roman, Jewish and Christian burials.

Some of which had fresh tomb tops (not to be confused with mummy tube tops).

One of the occupants:

Back on Senglea and the Grand Harbor, our final dinner before heading to France for our penultimate leg. We bookended our stay on Malta by dining at the same restaurant at which we had our first, awesome lunch upon our arrival. Good call.

The experienced enhanced by these dudes rowing by in a plastic crate.

Next up: back to France!

Categories: A Prolonged Foray to Europe, Malta | Tags: catacombs, Europe, history, Malta, st-agathas-catacombs, st-pauls-catacombs, travel, Valletta | 1 Comment

A Prolonged Foray to Europe: Chantilly, France

Posted on June 10, 2023 by WolfeStreetTravel

The penultimate leg of our prolonged foray to Europe: France! We’ve already hit mainland Italy, Sardinia, Sicily, and Malta (trip overview, including legs, is here).

We flew from Malta to Paris to bike through Normandy with Thomas and Lisa, but left a day early to guard against any flight issues or other delays that might impact our connecting with them when they arrived from Atlanta the next morning. Rather than stay in Paris, which we had visited three times and which, frankly, we didn’t particularly like, we headed about 30 miles north to the Chateau de Chantilly and its little town.

We checked in to our hotel a short walk away from the chateau, headed down the street for some lunch, then headed to the chateau itself.

The chateau largely dates from the 19th century, when the Duke of Aumale rebuilt the structure on the foundations of a medieval fortress.

The chateau’s formal gardens were designed by the same landscape architect credited with designing the grounds of Versailles.

Pretty cool rival to the chateaus we visited during our bike trip through the Loire Valley back in 2015, but they offered a deeper history than Chantilly.

The chateau’s chapel, right inside the gate:

Barrel-vaulted, highly decorated ceiling above the grand staircase:

Mosaic above the fireplace in the Salle des Gardes depicting the Rape of Europa by Jupiter:

But it’s not just a 19th-century French mosaic, it’s a Roman mosaic dating to the 1st century AD recovered from around Herculaneum, where we wandered just a month or so ago on this trip. Freakin’ crazy to have this just mounted here.

Libery:

The Rotunda of the Musée Condé at Château de Chantilly, created by the Duke of Aumale to display his art collection, with Henri Chapu’s marble Joan of Arc at Domrémy beneath Paul Baudry’s ceiling painting of the Abduction of Psyche

Just your normal decorative French fire screen; nothing to see here. . .

Heading to the stables. . .

Just as grand as the chateau itself.

Stables: huge. Horses therein: not so much.

Old-school carriages:

Just a pretty cool suspension and paint job.

Stage coach driver uniform:

His boots were not worn, but instead affixed directly to his saddle.

We spent the night at a nice Relais & Chateau hotel next to Chateau de Chantilly, then woke up the next morning to meet Thomas and Lisa upon their disembarkation in CDG from their redeye from ATL. But WolfeStreetTravel’s Chief Adventure Officer, who’s in charge of the entire itinerary, mistook their takeoff time (at around 6:30 PM) for their landing time (at around 9:00 AM) and so we left the hotel WAY too early, missed a nice breakfast, and ended up trying to sleep a little more in the lobby of one of the airport hotels at CDG while we waited for Thomas and Lisa. One more screw up, but luckily a minor one (although the WolfeStreetTravel Navigator was pretty annoyed that she lost sleep over this, literally).

Next: Bayeux and biking!

Categories: A Prolonged Foray to Europe, Paris | Tags: Europe, France, history, Paris, travel | Leave a comment

A Prolonged Foray to Europe: Normandy Biking Day 1 – A Tale of Two Invasions

Posted on June 10, 2023 by WolfeStreetTravel

After a lag day / risk-mitigation buffer day between Malta and Normandy in Chantilly, France, we headed early the next morning to CDG to pick up Thomas and Lisa from their red eye that departed Atlanta the evening before. (We did not, in fact, need to head out early the next morning, as noted in the Chantilly post. Because one of us is an idiot).

From CDG, we headed to Bayeux in Normandy to kick off some kick ass biking.

Bayeux is home to a pair of invasions, albeit separated by a millennium. The first, by William the Conqueror (or Billy the Conq, as David Crowther would say) occurred in 1066, and the invasion rolled out east to west: the Norman conquest of England.

Our very first activity after checking into our hotel was a visit to the Bayeux Tapestry to check out this 1000-year-old graphic novel depiction of the invasion.

It did not disappoint (other than the museum’s insidious approach to keeping the viewing line moving using the audio tour prompts to move you forward to the next scene much sooner than you would have liked).

Taking photos was prohibited, but WolfeStreetTravel is nothing if not an opportunistic, determined, scofflaw.

The penultimate caption about Harold Godwinson:

Aaaand, the ultimate Harold caption, right above the infamous arrow in the eye:

Infamous – and inaccurate, apparently. The earliest known account of the Battle of Hastings (which, of course, is what’s being depicted above) states only that Harold was killed. It does not say how. Moreover, it seems that the arrow in the Bayeux tapestry (which also is not actually a tapestry but an embroidery), was not part of the original 11th-century stitching, but part of a 19th-century restoration. According to an 18th-century drawing of the tapestry, the arrow originally was a spear and the dude holding it was actually a spearman. Harold most likely is the ax man on the right who has just been slain. All of this and quite a bit more is from this fascinating article on Medievalists.net.

After being prodded along the entire, 70-meter length of the tapestry by the pushy audio tour, we exited and headed to another of Bayeux’s 11th-century sites: Notre-Dame de Bayeux, built in 1079.

Consecrated in the presence of Billy the Conq, himself, the cathedral was the original home of the Bayeux Tapestry.

It’s considered to be the finest example of Norman-Romanesque architecture in the world.

And it was consecrated by Odo, William’s half brother and the most likely patron of the Bayeux Tapestry’s creation.

Dinner our first biking night included a little celebration of Lisa’s (the other Lisa) new job.

Pretty good French cuisine to start this leg of the trip.

Night falls on Bayeux and the cathedral. Tonight we rest. . .

for tomorrow we ride!

Perfect weather for the first day of biking in France.

The Longues Abbey, which was founded 1168, peaked in 1257 with 22 monks and four priories, declined in 1526 during the chaos of the Hundred Years’ War, was trashed by Protestants in 1562 during the Wars of Religion, and finally was disbanded by the Bishop of Bayeux in 1782.

The absolute highlight of the day was the WWII, German Longues-sur-Mer coastal artillery battery.

Which brings us to the second invasion, this time west to east: the Allied invasion of Normandy during WWII, a millennium after the Battle of Hastings.

The Longues-sur-Mer battery shelled Allied naval forces off Gold and Omaha beaches on June 6, D Day, but was damaged by Allied shore bombardment the same day.

It was captured by British ground forces on June 7 and played no further part in the Normandy campaign.

The battery is the only one in Normandy to retain its original complement of guns.

Heading to the coast.

And the battery’s fire control post.

On the coast, the remains of Mulberry Harbor B off Arromanches, named Port Winston. The two Mulberry harbors were designed by the British to be towed across the channel during the Allied invasion of Normandy.

“The Mulberry harbours solved the problem of needing deepwater jetties and a harbour to provide the invasion force with the necessary reinforcements and supplies, and were to be used until major French ports could be captured and brought back into use after repair of the inevitable sabotage by German defenders. Composed of floating but sinkable breakwaters, floating pontoons, piers and floating roadways, this innovative and technically difficult system was being used for the first time.

The Mulberry B harbour at Gold Beach was used for ten months after D-Day, while over two million men, four million tons of supplies and half a million vehicles were landed before it was fully decommissioned.” (From here.)

And just up the hill, the town of Arromanches. (With another WWII military artifact – we were delighted to come across these (mostly tanks) everywhere we rode our first 3 days of the tour.

A Mulberry dock pier, codenamed “whales.”

Memorial to the invasion of Gold Beach here in Arromanches. A British beach, obviously.

Heading out of town to our next WWI site.

Passing a cool church with an even cooler tree on the way. (A little reminiscent of the even awesomer trees on either side of the church door in Stow-on-the-Wold during our Cotswolds road trip.)

More WWII hardware on the coast! This is One Charlie, a British Churchill AVRE engineer tank that landed at Graye-sur-Mer on D-Day with the 79th Armoured Division, became stuck in a flooded crater, and was used to help support a makeshift crossing; four of its six crew members died, and the tank was recovered in 1977 and has stood as a memorial ever since. The ashes of its driver, Bill Dunn, were scattered at the site in 2014.

And even more hardware – a Sherman in town as we head to lunch.

Super cool rotating canal bridge:

Our first taste of Normandy oysters in Courseulles-sur-Mer. Freakin’ amazing. This would be the first of dozens and dozens we’d enjoy down the coast as we proceeded through our trip.

And moules, natch.

The Canadian cemetery in Normandy.

Very serene and impactful.

Back in Bayeux at the end of our first day of biking.

Very cool half-timbered medieval house in town.

Yesterday’s cathedral looming over centre ville.

And, we soon learned, it was France’s national Day of Music – Fete de la Musique – where every town in France explodes into dozens of little tiny desk concerts.

Including Bayeux.

The locals were definitely digging it! (Aided, we’re sure, by the high-octane Belgian trappist ale, Delirium Tremens.)

Pretty good start to this leg of the trip!

Categories: A Prolonged Foray to Europe, Normandy, Normandy, France | Tags: d-day, France, history, Normandy, travel | 2 Comments

Turkey and Back to Greece: Trip Overview

Posted on September 5, 2022 by WolfeStreetTravel

After three true road trips abroad all in the last 12 months (Languedoc/Provence/San Sebastian, Tuscany, and The Cotswolds/Wales), we pivoted to slightly more typical travel logistics over this past Labor Day and headed to a couple of locations in Turkey, and then back to Greece to explore another of the Cyclades islands there.

We flew into Istanbul, and spent 3 days there, then flew south to the town of Göreme, in Turkey’s Cappadocia region, and finally from there (through an overnight in Athens), to the Greek island of Paros.

After landing in Istanbul, we headed immediately to the venerable Hagia Sofia, built by the Byzantine emperor Justinian in the 6th century:

Hagia Sophia began as a grand church, replacing a previous model constructed in the 4th century. Then as a mosque after the Ottoman conquest in the 15th century, then a museum under Atatürk in the early 20th century, then BACK to a mosque in 2020 as Turkey has begun deviating from its secular modern roots to an increasingly Islamic society. With the latest change back to a mosque, we weren’t able to go to the second level to see the Viking runes graffiti left by members of the Varangian Guard sometime between the 10th and 11th centuries. Serious bummer, man. But on the bright side the place is freaking HUGE both inside and out, and the bolt-ons by different sultans over the centuries, including massive buttresses to prevent a repeat of collapses during earthquakes were clearly apparent.

Hagia Sofia interior:

Just across a plaza from Hagia Sofia lies the Blue Mosque, an Ottoman-era imperial mosque constructed between 1609 and 1616 during the rule of Ahmed I. Sporting five main domes and eight secondary domes, it’s the only mosque in Istanbul with six minarets.

The subterranean basilica cistern in the heart of Istanbul’s old town:

Built in the 530s by Justinian as a major municipal water supply for Constantinople, this multi-acre complex used to be filled up to 7 meters deep with fresh water supplied by the city’s aqueduct. Pillars and other materials from across the empire, including two Gorgon heads, were looted from pagan temples and repurposed to construct the enormous cistern. Abandoned and forgotten in the subsequent centuries. Rediscovered only in the 18th century, the place is architecturally, functionally, and atmospherically astounding. Plus, good to get underground and out of the heat!

Topkapi Palace, seat of power for the Ottoman Empire between the 15th and 18th centuries:

A little Turkish music our last night in Istanbul in an entirely different cistern across town, converted to a restaurant:

The absolute highlight of the trip was Cappadocia, in the middle of Turkey. We based ourselves in the town of Göreme and then drove all over the place to check out sights in the region’s lunar landscape of eroded volcanic tuff.

A dawn balloon ride on our first morning:

Really cool stuff all over the region, including two monastery cave complexes right down the road from Göreme. The first was a Byzantine monastic community in the Zelve valley, which thrived between the 9th to 13th centuries. The valley’s troglodyte houses were occupied until 1952, when villagers were relocated due to safety concerns.

We found the complex nearest to Göreme to be even more compelling, though. Founded in the 4th century on the instruction of Saint Basil of Caesarea, this complex of monasteries, nunneries, churches, and chapels existed for a thousand years.

The abundance of cave churches in the complex intrigued us the most:

Two distinct styles of decoration are immediately evident in the cave churches: “During the iconoclastic period (725–842) the decoration of the many sanctuaries in the region was held to a minimum, usually symbols such as the depiction of the Christian cross.”

After this period, new churches were dug into the rocks, and they were richly decorated with colourful frescoes.” Super cool to actually walk into a space and see untouched art from the 8th century just sitting there in the open.

The mountain castle of Uçhisar, dominating the skyline north of Göreme in Cappadocia.

Originally occupied by the Hittites, the structure was once home to 1000 people throughout its labyrinth of cave warrens and later served as cloisters during the Byzantine era.

Descending into the ancient multi-level underground city of Derinkuyu, which is large enough to have sheltered as many as 20,000 people together with their livestock and food stores. The city began in the 8th to 7th centuries BC, and continually expanded. Fully formed between 780–1180 AD, Derinkuyu was occupied for protection from Muslim Arabs during the Arab–Byzantine wars.

Capadoccia’s characteristic fairy chimneys:

A little balloon action from outside the basket this time at sunrise in town.

Even our pool was Capadoccia cool:

Last evening in Göreme:

From Cappadocia in Turkey, we headed to the island of Paros, in Greece’s Cyclades archipelago. We previously visited two nearby Cyclades islands – Santorini and Mykonos. We thoroughly enjoyed both, but wanted an island with a slower pace this time. Paros delivered.

Our base camp of Naousa in Paros – a really compelling combo of working fishing port and the island’s densest cluster of restaurants. As far was we could discern, every one of them had octopus on the menu.

The Monastery of St. John’s of Deti:

Paros’ main port town of Parikia:

At the top of the town, a 13th-century Frankish Crusader castle established as part of the short-lived Duchy of the Aegean Sea and built from materials taken from ancient sites that existed nearby, including the temple of goddess Athena, the protector of the ancient town of Paros: