Don't You Tell a Single Soul What I'm Going to Say

Bari, Italy...Old Town

The train station in Bari, Italy...and we need tickets to Rome tomorrow.
We walk into the station and the sign says "Tourist Information-Around the Corner"
"Great," we think. But it is closed. So is the other Tourist Information Booth. And since we needed to discuss further ticketing after Rome, it was not an option to take up time at the Tickets Window. But we had no choice. So I go there.
"We would like to discuss train tickets to Rome and beyond,"  I carefully say to the ticket seller beyond the window.
"Go to Tourist Information" says the Ticket Agent.
"It is closed," I said.
"It is open."
"The lights are off."
"It is open."
"There  is nobody inside.
"It is open."
"The door is locked."
"It is open"
I check again, figuring, "Well maybe that is how things are done in Italy...they lock the doors, turn off the lights and leave.....or maybe the word "Open" in Italian means...."just leave us alone."  I check...it is closed. Hmmmmm. I notice out front of the Station near the park a nice booth with people in it and a sign, "Tourist Information."
We walk over to these people and I say, "I need to discuss train tickets with a travel agent. Can you direct me."
"Oh, you don't want to pay a travel agent. You should see Tourist Information inside the station."
"I know, but it is closed."
"Well, that is not good."

Welcome to Italy, Bob.

Bari, Italy on the SE Coast of the country was a very nice surprise (trains and traveler information and all things considered.) We just got off the ferry from Patra, Greece and had a hotel booked and 24 hours to explore. The ferry did not appear too far from town on the map but in reality it was quite a hike and we were pulling our luggage. So, after the "Free bus shuttle" off the dock to the taxi area, we figured...take a cab. Good thing. General Patton would not have been able to find his way to the hotel, it was really buried in the middle of a bustling city. The hotel was ready for us and so was the scaffolding outside our rooms window and the jackhammers out front repairing the street. You would not confuse this with the honeymoon suite, but it is clean and will do. We dump our bags and head out.

First Stop .... gelato. We know no Italian but pointing at Gelato (plus holding Euros) makes for a significant cultural exchange. Our map of the city indicates an "Old Town" north a few blocks near the Sea. It is labeled "Centro Storico" or Historic Center, and as long as it is not labeled "Tourist Information" then I am up for the challenge.

And it is a treat. It is old. It is historical. People live there. Dozens of churches abide in the twisting streets that make me want to snap photos around every turn. It is also a labyrinth and one that is not easy to negotiate and still know where one is. No matter. Within about 6 blocks you will re-surface back in modern Bari and then you plunge back into the alleys only to get lost again and then find another church or shop or piazza.

At one corner of the old town is a Norman-Swabian Castle surrounded by a moat (of grass these days.) It was built in the Byzantine era by the Normans and then destroyed by William the Bad (obviously living up to his name). And then built and rebuilt over the centuries and today is still imposing as it sits near the seaside guarding old Bari (which, by the way stretches for miles down the coast and miles inland to the business center). It looks wonderful but we opt to stoll the coast for a few blocks and then plunge back into the historic center and promptly get lost once more.

St. Nicholas Basilica

Outside a Catholic Church which looks imposing is an open door and so we enter...and we gasp at the immensity of the stone church inside. This is the Basilica of St. Nicola....Church of St. Nicholas.Yes, THAT Saint Nick! I had read about this church and it is stunning with its thick stone walls and frescoes on the ceiling and the cold air circulating on this cold, clear February Morning. There are a few tourist and we walk around the sanctuary with its many sacred objects, though it is all written in Italian. Over near the front is a staircase to the basement which indicates that people can go down them. We do.

And then I realize....this is where they have the bones of Saint Nicholas. According to the story, Italian fishermen stole them from the coast of modern day Turkey (Asia Minor then) and brought them to Bari and then they built a great basilica for them and now have a festival honoring him each year. I recall being in Turkey a few weeks ago and it was mentioned that St. Nicholas was born and died there, but it did not say anything about Italian fishermen robbing his grave and sneaking his bones back into Italy. But they did....back in 1100 A.D. and apparently the statute of limitations has run out on returning old Saints bones to their country of origin.

Anyway, St. Nicholas is in Bari, Italy and he has a great Basilica and a crypt in the basement which is absolutely stunning. (I actually found a You Tube of someone attending a festival in the crypt under the sanctuary where we were. Look it up.) The crypt is lit by candles and lamps and has been renovated and looks like a place that Indiana Jones would stumble upon and then find the clue under some old burial vault and then race out of the Basilica and hop on a fishing boat in the harbor to some exotic local while being pursued by angry local fishermen (or perhaps the descendants of William the Bad).

The Crypt of St. Nicholas under the Sancturary

We sat in the grotto opposite the burial site of St. Nicholas. It was for moments like this that I came on this trip and it was was worth it. We took some pictures (if they can steal his bones, we can surely steal some photos). On the way out we lit a candle and walked into the street and promptly got lost again for the next 15 minutes.

We got little sleep last night on the ferry. We had little breakfast too, so by 3 pm after walking for hours we decided to eat. In the old town, around one more winding street was a cafe and the proprietess was out tending the shrubs and the door was open. Restaurants in Europe have a semi-casual air about them which never suggests if they are really open or maybe closed (in American we have those Neon signs in red which say "Open" and can be read from the Space Shuttle. But not so in around these parts...we are constantly wondering what is and is not open ....see my opening with the Tourist Information office). Anyway, the woman is tending the shrubbery, the restaurant door is open. I know no Italian and she apparently knows little English.

"Open?" I enquire, using my best Italian accent.
"Open!" she replies.
"Pizza?"
"Pizza!"
"Peroni?"
"Peroni!"
That exhausts my Italian, but it is sufficient for a meal.

Peace,  Bob