Category: Mountains

Montepagano 0

Montepagano

A pagan-sounding place and a bed-warming priest Up on the hill overlooking Roseto we spy a dome-like structure and decide to investigate. The signs along the road say Montepagano. The countryside, as we climb, opens out in a verdant expanse towards the Majella and Gran Sasso, each with a lingering mantle of snow. We find a silent village. It is too early for the tourist season, when holidaymakers will drive up from the coast, animating the streets and squares and filling the few cafés and restaurants. For now, the bars are empty. Help yourself, says the friendly owner of one. So we do. We carry our drinks out to...

view of Roseto and sea from above 1

Roseto degli Abruzzi

There is one thing that towns on the Adriatic coast have in common.  They are sliced in two by ‘la via Nazionale’, that is, the Strada Statale 16. It stretches from Oltranto in Puglia to Padova in the north, making it the longest of its kind in Italy, though nowadays only motorway-phobic travellers would travel its whole length. That’s because it’s a stop-and-start kind of road, punctuated by traffic lights, roundabouts, pedestrian crossings and bottlenecks, all making progress teeth-grindingly slow. Outside the towns the road is mostly bordered by ugly factories, warehouses and billboards, and occasionally by pine trees. There used to be more trees but though pretty they’re...

bridge in pinewood 4

A walk in the woods at Pineto

I read somewhere that a cicada’s mating call can reach more decibels than a passing motorbike. I am reminded of this while stretched out on the sandy floor of the pine forest, gazing up at the lofty, leafy canopy of umbrella pines. The cicadas are in full orchestra mode and the decibels have clearly exceeded a convoy of Harley Davidsons. And yet here’s the weird thing: their whirring is lulling me to sleep. Just after the small promontory at Torre del Cerrano the beach curves gently into a new bay and another kilometre or so of public beach.  The sea is the same – endless, azure and flat as...

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Cerrano Marine Reserve

A beach-lover’s paradise Perhaps it was my upbringing in egalitarian Scotland, or the happy hours I spent roaming Australian beaches as a young adult, but I believe that beaches should be for everyone. That’s not to say I don’t appreciate the convenience of private lidos. Same Beach, Same Sea If you frequent the same beach day in, day out for the whole summer, as many Italians do, you don’t want to have to drag your paraphernalia behind you every morning. It’s natural to want your spot reserved, with your umbrella already opened, your sunbed in place, your beach neighbours familiar and friendly. Many Italians are happy to pay a...

Popoli 0

Picturesque Popoli

Bears and other perils Just outside Popoli we pass a quaint road sign alerting us to the possibility of bears crossing. Having once had a near miss with a deer on the motorway, and risked a collision with a kangaroo in the Australian outback, I shouldn’t be complacent. But somehow the idea that a bear might amble out of the woods to cross the road strikes me as comical. And yet. We are on the border between the two great national parks of Abruzzo, the Majella and the Gran Sasso, the habitat of about 50 members of the orso marsicano species. Sightings are rare but in certain periods, or...

cloister of Atri cathedral 1

Atri, home of black gold

Never imagine that hill towns in Abruzzo are all the same. That once you’ve seen one you’ve seen them all. Nothing is further from the truth. There are borghi that meander crookedly along the crest of a hill, others that sit boldly astride it like a layered wedding cake. And others still that seem to defy gravity, clinging to the mountainside and looking, from a distance and especially after a snowfall, like a carefully assembled nativity scene. Aside from topographical differences, each place has its own story to tell, its own treasure-trove of artistic and cultural gems. And none more so than Atri in the province of Teramo. Atri...

Sulmona 2

Sulmona

City of Romance and Confetti Most girls, when they get engaged, receive a ring. I got a bunch of confetti. But then on that fateful day I was in Sulmona, which is to confetti and weddings as Scotland is to whisky and ceilidhs. Confetti and coriandoli Let’s get one thing straight. By confetti, I don’t mean paper hearts and horseshoes or the harvest of the office shredding machine. Here, those tiny paper cut-outs are called coriandoli and are likely to get in your hair during Carnival. Italian style confetti are coated almonds. When I explain this to a friend, she looks aghast and says, nice, but don’t they hurt? ...

Interior of Chapel of San Pellegrino 0

The Sistine Chapel of Abruzzo

The Oratory of San Pellegrino at Bominaco A good rule to follow in Italy, I have found, is never judge a building by its cover. So I am not particularly put out that the Sistine Chapel of Abruzzo looks no bigger than a bungalow from the outside. Luckily there is a porch, which is where we take shelter from the August sun.  We have to wait our turn here as only a few people are allowed in with the guide at a time. While we wait, I check out our surroundings.  Opposite is a rugged hill topped by a cylindrical tower from where I assume the views over the...

Santo Spirito Hermitage 1

The Hermitage of Santo Spirito

It’s ten kilometres to the Hermitage of Santo Spirito from Roccamorice.  The road takes us from the airy green foothills of the Maiella and plunges us deep under the leafy archways of an oak and beech forest.  Sunlight filters through the upper branches and spangles the road as we drive along.  The road ends in an open space and there, backed onto a rocky outcrop, is the Hermitage. Oh for the contemplative life. No wonder the poet Petrarca mentioned this place in his De Vita Solitaria as being conducive to asceticism. Even the most arid soul must surely be nourished by such beauty and silence  – silence, that is,...

silvi paese with outdoor tables 4

A Tale of Two Silvi Part 2

Something is up. As we approach Silvi Paese late on a summer’s evening we can’t find a place to park. We drive upwards and down and roundabout and eventually squeeze into a slot half-way up the hill. Could it be, someone suggests, the Festa di Paese? Light streams from the open doors of the Church of San Salvatore but this is not unusual. On summer nights anyone can wander in from the street at any time to pray or just quietly sit.  As we near the Belvedere, it becomes clear there is an invasion afoot. What is curious is that the invaders of this normally rather staid village are...