Quarantine, pollution and a crumbing city

We had been keeping abreast of the news, but neither of us expected to wake up on Sunday morning and discover that Italy had placed 16 million people in quarantine. It had also closed all museums and archeological sites, meaning our plans to visit Pompei and Herculaneum, among others, were now in much the same state as the people who at lived at the foot of Vesuvius. 

With Coronavirus so much in the news, readers may wonder why we still chose to come to Italy. At the time there seemed little alternative. The cases were all in the north, and most remain 1000km away from us. Italy is a big country. Our only other options were to stay in Greece without knowing how long we might be there, or to face a very long drive back through Bulgaria and Romania. While Italy certainly has a high number of cases, and many people have sadly died, there are also more than a thousand cases in both France and Germany. Unless all the borders close, it would be easier to get home from here than it would be from Greece, and discovering new places is far preferable to retracing our steps.

The good news: signs of spring 

Along with the rest of the world we are having to reassess the situation and modify our plans on a daily basis. We now have plans A, B, C, D and E, involving everything from ferries from Sicily to Toulon, to non-stop drives along the autostrada. If all countries close their borders with Italy, then we shall just have to stay here until they open again. In the meantime we are continuing to live life the way we have become accustomed: lots of walks with the dogs, wandering around towns, and driving relatively short distances. We already live a pretty isolated existence, and I was careful to observe the metre separation from other people in Lidl that was instructed over the tannoy at 30" intervals. Nick says no such rules were in place in the small shop in someone's front room where he bought bread for lunch.

A moody day in Gallipoli

We woke up on Sunday in Gallipoli, one of many places in Puglia with a Greek history. Its name is from the Greek Kali Polis, beautiful city. It certainly has a fabulous location, on a small island next to a wide bay. We had spent the afternoon before exploring the old town with its narrow streets and faded grandeur, but it failed to sparkle under a grey sludgy sky. Sunday morning dawned much brighter, and we all had a nice walk along the sea front promenade, where lots of other people were also taking in the fresh air. 

Gallipoli looks brighter in the sun

Once on the road, our first port of call was a service station with motorhome facilities where we hoped to empty the toilet cassette and grey water tank and fill with fresh water - a process for which the Italians have the wonderful phrase "carico e scarico": loading and unloading. Unfortunately the service point was closed as it was a Sunday, and our main cassette (Waterloo) was almost full. Luckily a nearby town had a water fountain with a tap, so we were soon loaded up, and the spare cassette (St Pancrap) was pressed into service. It's good to have it back - we went several weeks in Greece without it as we could only get the replacement part we needed in Athens.

Taranto in elegant mood

Our next stop was in the naval port of Taranto, an industrial city with steelworks making it one of the most polluted places to live in Europe, but once a settlement town founded by the Spartans in 800BCE. Unmarried women were forcibly made pregnant to produce extra soldiers in time of war. The soldiers were stripped of their Spartan citizenship when the war was over, and set out to found Taranto instead. It has an unmatched location, with three peninsulas creating an inner lagoon and outer bay. A canal through one peninsula has turned the old town into an island.  The lagoons are also full of mussel beds, but the molluscs are so full of pollution you probably wouldn't want to eat them. 

We pulled into a car park near the bus station and went for a short stroll. It was very quiet, rather run down, and the stray dogs were vocal and not in good condition. One bad review was enough to plant a seed of doubt in our minds, and we have long since agreed that if one of us isn't sure, then we move. So it was back in the van, and out to a shopping centre on the outskirts with parking for thousands of vehicles. Although it was private land there were no obvious prohibitions, and we spent a quiet night there. The morning brought our first encounter with the Happy Casa homewares store, and the exciting discovery that it was possible to buy a replacement cup and seal for my well used Bialetti coffee maker without having to replace the whole thing.

The Palazzo del Governo, Mussolini 1934

With the sun shining we returned to the car park in Taranto, which looked much livelier on a weekday, and went for a walk around the old town and along the lungomare promenade. The sea front was busy with fishermen and stalls, as well as people caring for the children that can't go to school, or aren't themselves able to go to work. We admired the muscular Aragonese castle, while Mussolini's 1934 colossal Palazzo del Governo inspired a discussion about the similarities between fascist and communist architecture.

Last remains of the Greeks

After admiring the few vestiges of the Greek presence, two columns on the edge of the old town, we plunged into the pedestrianised area. Within a couple of blocks we had left the faded elegance of a few long neglected palazzos for an interior that left us both lost for words. If the former was a Miss Havershamesque one-time stunner, then the latter was a zombie crawling from the grave shedding bandages, with eyes rolling on cheeks and bones bursting through flesh. It was Dickensian in its fall from grace: balconies collapsed from rust, windows were filled with concrete, churches were left locked up and allowed to crumble. Glimpses inside apartment buildings revealed entrance foyers being used as garages. In a city where the air itself is toxic, decaying buildings are just another symptom, but somehow life still continues here. And the walls are brightened by colourful street art, some political, some beautiful, but paint alone can't possibly blight the wreckage of these old structures.  

Street art in Taranto

Lived in, but falling apart

It was time for some cleaner air, and we headed inland for Matera, a place with its own colourful history, and its own problems, of which more next time. We had hoped to stay at a camper stop in the stunning hills of the nearby regional park, but it turned out to be government owned, and hence closed because of the coronavirus. A kind ranger allowed us to "carico e scarico" but we are again spending the night in car park, this time in designated motorhome bays in the centre of Matera. We shall explore tomorrow. 

Elsa finds the smallest street in Taranto

Best keep your tail out of that water