Rome was great, Gargano National Park beautiful and I have a big soft spot in my heart for the Puglia, but on this day we would journey south to Sicily, an island where my grandfather Vern Holyoak, as a highly decorated soldier for the U.S. Army, would arrive in the early 1940s to help liberate Italy from the Nazi regime. It's a place where, four decades after that I spent the major part of my time serving the Italian people as a missionary for my church in 1982-83. It's also where I met and served for several months alongside Ron Smith, my favorite missionary companion, during what I consider the best part of my mission. Here we were together again 40 years later along with our wives. I couldn't wait to get there. First though, we had more of Alberobello to get out and enjoy.
Of course you can't enjoy Italy on an empty stomach. And satisfying those early morning hunter pangs only happens after making difficult decisions, like when you stand at the counter of a pastry shop with dozens of colorful, appealing, delicious possibilities lined up right in front of you, but you can only eat so many. Lori chose a pistachio cream-filled croissant while I went with a homemade apple and cream pastry. And then we topped that off with a caramel-topped, donut-like goodie.
Mother Nature couldn't make up her mind as it was sunshine followed by rain all day. We ducked into Trullo Sovrano (Sovereign Trullo), one of the first built dwellings built with mortar with a wing that dates back to the early 1600s, but most of it constructed 150 years later. It served as a court, chapel, grocery shop, monastery, oratory and a private home. Today, it's a national monument and museum.
One of my favorite features was a spy hole in the bedroom (lower left corner in the photo below) used to identify who was at the front door. If friendly, visitors were welcomed in. If hostile, the hole was large enough to fire a shot at the "ill-intentioned people." (Note to self: remember to include such a feature if/when I ever build another house.)
We also visited a couple other churches with their inspiring history and architecture, all of which prompted Ron to take over at the pulpit, further building his his ever-impressive yet somehow never satisfied appetite for lunch.
We grabbed sandwiches and then passed some time in a nearby piazza where we swapped some tales that had us rolling! (Thanks Ron!😏)
What was not funny (at all!) was what happened at the bus station. We had tickets to return to Bari but apparently so did dozens of others. When the bus pulled up, it became a madhouse. Call it the pedestrian version of how Italians drive. It soon became apparent that if we didn't join in the aggressiveness, we may be left behind. That would not be good since we had tickets for an overnight train with a sleeper compartment to get us to Sicily and we had to make all our stops on time. The driver was urging patience and orderly conduct but that didn't change anything. Being the holder of the tickets, April took the lead and forced her way forward among the surging throng. We saw one man start to board and then tell the driver he had other family members with him so they should be allowed on as well. He said, "If they want on, they should be here with you!" The driver eventually relented and let them on. Whew, I was hoping we would follow suit. April soon ascended a couple of the bus steps, motioned to the driver we were a company of four and he summoned us to board. Man, close call! We even found seats next to each other and celebrated with a couple of cannoli I purchased before we left. In the end, the driver let everyone who wanted to actually board, leaving the aisle jammed with people standing from the front of the bus to the back.
The rest of the day was a real life Italian version of planes, trains and automobiles. After arriving in Bari, we discovered our next planned train connection from Bari to Caserta was cancelled due to heavy rains up north. Ron talked to a customer service representative while April scoured transportation possibilities. (I must add here that April is a bus/train/flight travel czar. She demonstrated her skills prior to the trip, during its early days and throughout. So if you're traveling abroad, call April. She's aces!) Vito contacted Ron to let him now he was on his way to wish us farewell. It would be a most fitting way to leave the Puglia. Then we got word that we needed to head to a platform for a train awaiting all of us whose scheduled train was cancelled, and it was to leave in a matter of moments. We boarded, found a seat and looked out the window only to see Vito running up and waving as the train pulled out of Bari. Dang, if we only had two more minutes to properly say goodbye.
We were still a little anxious that everything would work out that we would make it to Salerno on time for our overnight train, but what can you really do other than hope for the best, chat it up and play cards.
After arriving in Benevento, we immediately boarded a bus for Caserta. By now, everything looked good. In fact, we arrived in Caserta with more than enough time to take a short walk in the rain and grab a nice sit-down dinner at Isabel Ristorante Pizzeria, an old Neapolitan kitchen dating back to 1920. It was early maybe too early, for dinner but we were welcomed right in as the first customers of the evening. I ordered a "filled and oven-cooked or fried" pizza. It included tomato sauce, ricotta cheese, milk cream, olive oil, basil and ham or, in other words, an oversized panzarotto. Score! It was big and tasty!
What was needed to cap off this meal? Gelato, of course. We found a nearby gelateria where I ordered a flavor I'd been looking for - cantaloupe. And that's exactly what it tasted like. Did it top my milk chocolate-peanut butter flavor from the night before? No, but it was delicious nonetheless.
Two more legs to go, and we didn't have any issues with either. First up, was a 50-mile ride south from Caserta to Salerno. Once there, we boarded our overnight train for the 272-mile leg along the western coast, down through the boot to Villa San Giovanni and eventually a middle-of-the-night ferry ride across the Straits of Messina into Sicily.
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