Palermo

This is the third day of our trip to Sicily. We flew to Catania because that's where the cheap flights go to, but Catania seems really grim, what we saw of it anyway. We only stayed long enough to pick up the hire car. It is a Fiat 500 but one of the big four door ones. It drives OK, although it doesn't pull in second gear if there's any sort of a hill, so if forced to go up a hill slowly, because of bends or other traffic, you have crash it into first. it is very ugly. There are still some old proper Fiat 500s on the road, and it's the same problem as the new Mini - it isn't a mini at all. We had a Mini when we first married and it was brilliant fun to drive and ideal round London. The new one is just your ordinary car, and as with our Fiat, when it's inflated into a four door car, it's terrible.

So we had some problems getting on the right road out of Catania, but managed it, and drove across Sicily to Palermo. The scenery is spectacular once in the mountains, although already pretty dry. There was a long diversion onto mountain roads, the first of many, because the viaducts have been badly built and are unsafe. Some of the tunnels are closed too. I suspect it's due to corruption. Clearly Sicily bakes in the summer and I think we're just in time.There are lots of flowers and birdsong, but the sun is very hot. 

The B&B in Palermo was great. It was in the old town in an old house. We were at the top, and the stairs were not absolutley regular - some were higher than others so we had to be a bit careful going up and down. But it was a very nice room and we got an extremely filling breakfast both days, so much so that we have forgone a lunch and settled for fruit. To top breakfast off each day we were given a pastry filled with sweetened ricotta, which sounds nice (and it did taste nice) but was like having eaten a brick. 

 

Looking down the street of our B&B

We settled in and went out for a stroll. Palermo is very run down. There are old houses which are only a facade - the house has completely collapsed behind. And there are plenty of what I suppose to be bomb sites - at least that's what they look like, and Palermo was badly bombed in 1943. But we felt quite safe. I'm sure, as in any city, there are places one shouldn't venture at night, but it's not scary like Naples

There are heaps of dilapidated palazzi. I know in Italy one can't judge the wealth of the inhabitants by the outside of a building, but there are lots of balconies I wouldn't venture out onto. They are alarmingly decrepit.

The next day, after breakfast, we went straight to the Palatine Chapel. 

Part of the ceiling of the Palatine Chapel

Christ Pantocrator (ruler of all)

The B&B is really close so that we beat the crowd and had nearly an hour with just a few other people in there, before the bus trips arrived. I don't know what the rest of the holiday will be like, but the chapel would be worth the journey on its own. It so beautiful that no words of mine or any photos could possibly do it justice. The whole interior has a wonderful golden glow, as the background of all the mosaics is gold.Immediately as you go in you are facing the majestic Christ Pantocrator, every bit is covered with saints, angels, scenes from the life of Christ, scenes from Genesis, and beautiful foliage round the windows. Roger II brought Byzantine mosaic artists to decorate the interior, and there are inscriptions in Latin and Greek. There's also wonderful Arab style decorative, non figurative mosaics, and a superb Arab style carved wooden ceiling. You can make out scenes of hunting and dancing, and there are saints and prophets. It was heavenly.

We looked at the roooms from Roger's palace that can be seen. They are used by the regional assembly, but it doesn't sit on a Monday.It was mildly interesting, the best bit being Roger's loggia, which is the least altered, and an inscription about Roger's handiwork in Arabic, Greek and Latin. That was interesting because the three versions were different when one compared the translations in Italian. They betrayed the cultural conventions of each ethnic group. We also saw inscriptions which added Hebrew to the list of languages. But nothing can compare to the chapel.

Then we walked down to the cathedral, which is on the outside a strange mix of Gothic and Arab and Catalan elements. Inside, the mosaics have gone and it's been baroqued, and was a terrible disappointment. The treasury had Roger's daughter's crown, which was fascinating to see as it was like the ones you see on Byzantine depictions of the emperor - a sort of beanie shape, covered with uncut jewels and with dangling sort of earrings. We liked that, and also the tombs of Roger and his daughter Constanza.

We had a coffee and walked to the Martorana This is a church built by Roger's highly successful admiral, George of Antioch It was quite little, so a bit has been added, but the old church has superb mosaics and Arab decorative art. There's a mosaic of Roger receiving the crown from Christ and one of George prostrating himself before the Virgin. One of the reasons we were keen to come to Sicily was that we read a book called The Ruby in Her Navel by Barry Unsworth, set in twelfth century Sicily, and it was nice to see portraits of these important characters. How lifelike the mosaics are, of course, we can't know. The next door church belongs to the knights of Jerusalem but was closed

George of Antioch and the Virgin

La Martorana

We walked back to the B&B via the market, which was interesting. Phil bought and ate an octopus salad, with lots of lemon juice and parsley. I had a taste and it was very good indeed. Judging by what was on sale, Palermitans live on tuna and snails. I never imagined there could be so many edible snails. Unfortunately neither tuna or snails are items I would choose from a menu. But for dinner we had a couple of Sicilian specialities that I really did enjoy - a stuffed aubergine dish and pasta with fennel and sardines.

We walked miles, because next day we walked to La Zisa.This was Roger's hunting lodge outside the city. To get there we had to walk through a seriously grim bit of Palermo - not Bombay style, but not what one expects in Europe. But La Zisa has been restored and has a show of household objects beautifully made in Arab style, obviously not those belonging to Roger but representing the way the lodge would have been furnished.

La Zisa

The twelfth century chapel next to La Zisa

Then we walked over to Teatro Massima, which unfortunately is dark while we're here, and saw the shopping streets - not as smart and tempting as Florence, which is a good thing as far as I am concerned. We walked down to the harbour where there were cruise ships like floating enormous blocks of flats. We don't fancy cruising anyway, but these behemoths confirmed our prejudices. The harbour area was heavily bombed in 1943 and there are large waste lands.

 There's a memorial to victims of the anti-mafia movement, including one sponsored by LaStampa in memory of journalists who were killed. I think it has helped somewhat, although the Mafia are very far from a spent force. Perhaps they are a bit more subtle in their approach nowadays. There was lots going on -a pop concert for young people, professional and amateur fishermen, joggers, dog walkers and such, so after a long sit and watch we set off back to the restaurant -  the same as last night's,  it was good, and shortly after fell into bed.

The next day we got up early and set off to Monreale The parking for the B&B is secure, but it's only small and contained six cars and a scooter jigsawed into place, so we needed the help of Alessandro and Massimo to juggle cars to get out. It was all rather fun and quite Italian. 

Ripon, Markenfield and onwards

On our way up to the Dales, we stopped at Ripon. We haven't been to Ripon for many years and last time we were there, it was quite run down. It's much smarter now, although the shopping is more generic high street than it used to be. Appleton's the butchers is still on the market square and still has a tempting display of pork pies and black pudding; I'm sure they had a bicycle made of pies and puddings in the window for the Tour de France. I think the Tour must have boosted tourism, because it all looked great on the TV.

I know lots of people don't like fields of oilseed rape,
and I must admit the smell is sneeze inducing. But this
looks great, doesn't it?

The cathedral is in much better nick than we remembered, too. It's got a Saxon crypt, tiny, cramped and bare, which I didn't recall seeing before. it's dedicated to St Wilfred, who also has quite a few churches dedicated to him around Nottingham. However, he is rather unpopular with many people, as it seems to have been Wilfred who swung the synod of Whitby to the Latin church and away from the Celtic church. The Celtic church is, at least superficially, more attractive, so to some, Wilfred is more of a villain than a saint. 

The cathedral has a chapel with tombs of the Markenfields, and after the tour we went to Markenfield Hall, which is just outside Ripon.

Markenfield is mentioned in the Domesday Book (1086) but the present building is thirteenth century, and a lot of the farm buildings seemed to be fifteenth or even sixteenth century. It's moated, and in lovely countryside, and very romantic. It's only open for a few weeks in the year, and there aren't many rooms to see, but what there is is worth the trip. It's intensely romantic. The chapel is still consecrated and used for weddings. 

Moat and Gatehouse

The Courtyard - see the little turret

Inside - the hall

The utility room

I kept wondering what the little turret at Markenfield reminded me of, and on our return it dawned on me that there is a copy in Nottingham's Lace Market.

 There are two important Victorian architects in Nottingham and one was into medievalism. He was called Fothergill Watson, and later changed his name to Watson Fothergill. Which gives rise to the sort of straight faced and unfunny joke that people who have been married for forty four years enjoy - well, not even enjoy actually, it's just habit I think. Anyway, one of us looks at a building and says "Is that a Watson Fothergill?" and the other replies "No, I think it's a Fothergill Watson."  ROFL.

After our visit, we drove on to Kettlewell and our walking friends, and all in all, I can appreciate why Yorkshire is known as God's Own Country. Look it up: the internet is never wrong.

Wharfedale

We have just had a couple of days walking in Yorkshire with our walking club. We stayed in Kettlewell and walked over to Grassington and Littondale.  It was very successful, and good because we don't know Wharfedale as well as we know the more northern dales like Teesdale and Swaledale. On the last day as almost everyone else left, we had decided to do a classic walk, from Malham, past Janet's Foss, up Gordale Scar, over to Malham Tarn and then down the cove and back to the village.  

We've done it a few times before; it's a super walk and quite likely we won't be up there for a while - until we're beyond it, maybe. So although it had been raining heavily during the night and was still raining when we set off, we were still keen, even though the limestone is horribly slippery when wet. 

Malham Cove

Since we were up there last, the walking traffic has increased to the extent that the National Parks Authority has had to pave all the way to Janet's Foss and then again along from the village to the cove. But the views are still tremendous. Malham Cove was the site of an enormous waterfall at the end of the ice age, and the tarn exists because it is underlaid by slate, not permeable limestone. It's pretty bleak up there, but there's a large shooting lodge, and the house and the landscape inspired "The Waterbabies" - which I didn't like as a child and never read to my children. It's creepy.

Janet's foss

We walked to Janet's Foss  (it's all foss, fell and dale in Yorkshire - it helped us sort out names in Norway) and then on to Gordale Scar. The stream was - well, not in spate, but pretty energetic. We did pause for a moment but then thought what the hell, we're doing this. A group of Liverpudlians, men of around forty I should say, were also hesitating, but went for it. We did get pretty wet, because as well as the normal waterfall spray, it was windy. My trousers were soaking; Phil's trousers were reasonably dry, but he had one wet foot. But we were seriously pleased with ourselves when we got right to the top. 

Approaching Gordale Scar

The men go up the waterfall ahead of us.

The next bit was fine, but quite a lot of the way to the tarn, we were walking into a really strong wind which kept blowing rain. It was like walking uphill and pretty unpleasant. But as we reached the tarn it calmed down and we sat and had a coffee and a snack. We saw lapwings and oystercatchers, as well as the usual jackdaws. The time of year is great for flowers and there were loads of kingcups up there. 

Phil at the top. 

Then we set off to the cove, and fortunately the wind had mostly dried off the limestone, so we could enjoy walking on the limestone pavement and down to the valley.

Climbers negotiating the overhang.

 
At the cove, watching the rockclimbers, were the Liverpudlians, and, chatting to them, it became obvious that they had climbed Gordale Scar because they weren't going to be beaten by a pair of O.A.P.s, which amused us. 

The limestone pavement

The view from the cove.The stream emerges from the bottom of the limestone cliff.
The group of people are watching the peregrine falcons.

I've got to say, it was very nice walking with just the two of us, being able to walk at the pace we wanted and stop to look at things when we felt like it. 













































We dropped into a cafe for tea and a scone, but, even better, they had Yorkshire curd cake. It wasn't quite as good as mine - a bit dry - but they'd been generous with the nutmeg. And it was an excellent pot of tea. 

This year has been a beautiful spring, with lots of sun and blue skies, even if there’s also been quite a cold wind some days.  It’s apparently perfect conditions for blossom, and the flowers and birds also seem to be doing really well.

The bleating herd winds slowly o'er the lea.

Chee Dale stepping stones

We’ve had a couple of lovely walks in Derbyshire, once with the grandsons and another set of grandparents and grandchildren, in Chee Dale, where there is a lot of boy appeal – rocks, stepping stones, caves and such.  Luckily for us the children are much of an age and go to the same school, so know each other well, and enjoy the walks better for the company. We also had to take Atlas, and I’m afraid that although the children behaved perfectly, he rather let us down by running off. He was ahead with the children but kept coming back to check on us, and lulled us into a false sense of security. As a path junction came up as we climbed out of the valley, we realised that he had vanished. Panic ensued; but in the field crossed by one path, sheep and lambs were peacefully grazing, so we could be quite sure he hadn’t gone that way, thank God. We each set off on one of the the two remaining path directions and eventually found him. He was quite pleased to see us – we were hot and bothered and had to pretend to be pleased to see him. Then he rolled in fox pee and stank the car out on the way home. 

We also had a long weekend with the family in Shropshire. I love Shropshire; without having anything spectacular, it’s just perfect English countryside – or Welsh countryside, as this time we were near Llangollen. We’ve usually been a bit further east.

On the way there we visited Wightwick Manor, which is an Arts and Crafts house with a collection of Pre-Raphaelite works. The things I liked best were the William De Morgan tiles and lustre plates. I chose a red lustre ware plate with a design of a deer as my thing to take home. But the rooms were lovely, and big enough to carry the William Morris wallpapers and furnishings.

Wightwick Manor

Then we met the children and grandchildren in Shrewsbury and had a stroll round and along the river. On the Friday we went to Hawkestone Park Follies, which was completely brilliant. The park was laid out in romantic style in the late eighteenth century, and made use of natural outcrops of rocks, and what is believed to have been a prehistoric copper mine. It was quite a walk round it with many steps and climbs, views, an “Awful Precipice” (sic), and pitch dark twisty tunnels. We all just loved it. I’m afraid granddad made a habit of leaping out on people in the dark tunnels and succeeded in scaring the adults, but not the children. They seemed to expect nothing else from him. 

The "Awful Precipice", with tunnels beneath.

The next day, Saturday, was another glorious day and we all did a walk which involved walking across Pontcyssylte. Number three son and Phil are not good on heights, but obviously didn’t want to miss the experience,  and so we sent them on ahead to walk steadily across and they were fine. The footpath is only on one side and there is a precipitous drop with no rail on the other, and the trough is only perhaps a foot higher than the water, so on a barge, there’s really nothing between you and the drop. But on the footpath side, there’s a good high railing, and the main worry is stepping off it into the canal as there is not much passing space – especially if you meet anyone pushing a bike. But it was well worth it – the views are spectacular.

Ponycyssylte from the river Dee

Barge crossing

The view

Safely across 

On the Sunday, we walked up to the Rodney Memorial, which was 900 feet of ascent and was put up by the gentlemen of Shropshire and Monmouthshire to honour Admiral Rodney, who had made them all well off by getting the government to buy their oaks for warships. He originated the line ahead method of naval battle, but was heavily criticised for being more concerned with prize money than serving his country. As all the crew shared in prize money according to their rank, it may explain why there seems

to be a lot of pubs called The Admiral Rodney.

The Rodney Memorial

Anyway, it was a lovely walk through woodland, with streams, bird song and flowers, and a nice feeling of achievement when we all made the top.

On the way home we stopped at Moseley Old Hall, where Charles II hid in a priests’ hole after the battle of Worcester. It’s run by the National Trust and they did a really excellent tour. We thoroughly enjoyed it. 

Prague 2

On our second full day, we went to the Jewish Museum, which is not one building, but rather a number of synagogues, a hall for ceremonies and a Jewish cemetery.  The area was the Jewish ghetto for about 800 years, until Joseph II gave them civil rights and the wealthier people moved out. The synagogues display objects, with a theme for each synagogue. It’s really well done – the Ceremonial Hall has a series of maybe fifteen large paintings, dating from the late eighteenth century, acting as a sort of strip cartoon explanation of Jewish burial societies and practices. It may sound odd, but it was a fascinating look at a vanished world.

The most moving was the Pinkas synagogue, built in 1535 but largely destroyed in 1941. It has been reroofed and the walls are entirely covered with the names and dates of birth and death of around 80,000 Czech Jews who were murdered during the holocaust. It needs something like that to bring the numbers home to you; you simply can’t comprehend  80,000 without some visual representation. There are also drawings made by children in Terezin, sometimes with photos of the children, which are terribly moving.

The Jewish cemetery is the famous site, and certainly should be seen, but isn’t that surprising to anyone who has seen the City of London church graveyards. Or even Haworth. No wonder the Brontes had short lives, living next to a graveyard so full of corpses that the ground level is feet higher than the surrounding area.

Jewish cemetery

The synagogues were all heated, and Phil commented that it was ironic - he had to keep on his beanie, whereas yesterday in the churches he had to take it off, and they were bone chillingly cold, much colder than out doors. Still, at least he had better manners than a lot of the male visitors, who couldn’t be bothered to show a bit of basic politeness.

Afterwards, we went to St Agnes’ Convent. It’s Gothic, but very much restored – well, in fact it was a complete ruin. St Agnes was the sister of an early ruler, in about the eleventh century. It has a terrific exhibition of early Czech religious painting and sculpture. It was very sophisticated, and looked towards the Netherlands, France and Italy rather than eastwards. There was a brilliant set of paintings for an altarpiece from the fifteenth century, I’d definitely take those home.

Then we  had a gluhwein and some potato crisps in the old town square, and got changed for the opera again. We had an early meal in a vegetarian place – Czech cuisine is a bit heavy on the meat and light on the vegetables, and one begins to feel a little stuffed.

Gate at the end of the Charles Bridge

The opera this time was Tosca. There are surtitles in English and Czech, not that we need them desperately for either of the operas we saw; but when we went to see Fidelio, which we didn’t know at all, in Budapest, it was sung in German with surtitles in Hungarian; which I have to say was something of a challenge.  Anyway, Tosca was really good; excellent singers, and a well acted Scarpia. Tosca was pretty wooden, I’m afraid.

Almost all of the people we’ve dealt with are able to speak English, and English immersion schools are advertised. I suppose Czech is like Dutch, a relatively minority language, so you need a second one. Everyone seems instantly able to identify us as British, it’s a bit unnerving. Except for the lady who said “Dos vidanya” to Phil. I think he must have looked offended, because she followed it immediately with a “Sorry!”  It really bothered him. He wondered if he could really look like an oligarch. I pointed out that I was the let down – if he was a well off Russian, I’d be wearing a fur coat, masses of jewellery and be at least thirty years younger.

We had a bit longer to have a look at Wenceslas Square and saw the Jan Palach memorial at the end. I really like Prague. The painted buildings, arcades and narrow alleys in the Old Town are charming and the site is terrific. There are many interesting Art Deco buildings too, and lots of pedestrian only bits, which makes it thoroughly pleasant to wander round.

We tried to visit the Bethlehem chapel, where Jan Hus preached, but it was closed. It was open every other day in February, so we really had managed to pick a bad day.

The third full day in Prague, we took the metro to the Vysehrad fortress.  It’s the original castle, high up on a bluff over the river, on the other side to the present castle. As it was the fortress and palace of the early medieval kings of Bohemia, it has a mystical significance for Czechs. I wanted to go because “Vysehrad” is one of the movements of Ma Vlast.  However, it was a highlight of the trip, and we both really enjoyed it. 

Massive gate into the fort at Vysehrad

View from Vysehrad

Virtually all the medieval stuff  has been destroyed, but it was turned into an enormous artillery fort in the eighteenth century, and it’s now a lovely park, with lots of interesting features. The National cemetery is there and we found the graves of Smetana himself, Dvorak and Suk. I was quite excited. 

Smetana's grave

It was a glorious day, frosty to start with but brilliantly sunny, and spring like, with birds and flowers. We even saw a woodpecker up quite close.

The views of Prague and the river were spectacular, and the café did us a typically powerful coffee.

View from Vysehrad, St Vitus' cathedral and the castle in the distance.

We walked down off the bluff and got a tram to the Veletrzni Palac. This is where the National Gallery displays its collection from the nineteenth, twentieth and twenty first centuries. They own a fabulous collection of impressionists and later French art, including some striking sculptures by Bourdelle. There are more Picassos than in Malaga. I’m having Van Gogh’s “Green Wheat”. It was painted when he was in the asylum in St Remy, but apparently on a good day, as it’s calm and peaceful, as you can imagine by the main colour being green. Phil wanted it too, but I beat him to it. He chose a Monet instead.

There’s a very comprehensive collection of Czech art, and design works are also shown, with models and plans of modernist buildings from the twenties and thirties. It just shows how forward thinking the Czech independent state was; and in fact the Veletrzni  Palac itself is a superb modernist building, designed for a trade fair in the thirties.

The last night here, we went to a concert in the Municipal House. The concert was good (the Prague Symphony Orchestra and Valentina Lisitsa) and the municipal house is just brilliant. It’s the most amazing Art Deco extravaganza you can imagine, beautifully restored.  If you ever go to Prague, don’t miss it – there are restaurants, so you don’t have to go to a concert. It’s better than the astronomical clock, I’m telling you. And a glass of prosecco only sets you back a quid. 

Prague

This is our third attempt to visit Prague; each time before, something happened to stop us, so third time lucky. We're staying in the centre of the old town, just off the Old Town Square, which is lovely; on arrival we had a potter round to  get orientated and saw the astrological clock. I liked Death turning over his hour glass. You have to remind yourself how very old it is. 

Hotel Rott - a success.

Today, we crossed the Charles Bridge and set off for the castle. Prague is pretty busy, with large parties of young people milling around, and although it is quite chilly, we are not glad to be here in summer.

On the way to the castle we got distracted by Saint Nicholas Church, and went in for a look round. It is rococo; it's unbelievable elaborate, with a plethora of enormous sculptures all covered in gold. The ceiling was interesting because it's frescoed with a trompe l'oeil effect that was truly remarkable. It was genuinely difficult to tell what was a feature of the architecture and what was just painted. The organ was staggering; it was covered with massive golden cherubs and angels playing instruments. Phil and I wandered about muttering to each other.

"Have you seen that ? "

"Yes, hideous, isn't it?"

I'm not sure how much  church  visiting we're likely to do here, as they are virtually all rococo or baroque, and there seems to be a penchant for bones and reliquaries. We did make a rapid tour of the Loreto, which was not quite as bad as Saint Nicholas as a building, but had a treasury full of monstrosities, with unbelievable quantities of diamonds and other jewels. One thing the Loreto had, though, which made the visit worthwhile, was a statue of a crucified bearded lady. The sculptor used a real dress and a real hair beard. Apparently it was some saint who prayed to preserve her virginity, and got given a beard. She was crucified by her own father, for reasons which escaped me. It was horribly funny, as though Conchita Wurst had had a stroke of inspiration for a music video.

It was quite a haul up to the castle, but well worth it. All around are large palaces of the noble families, now galleries or government offices or embassies, and there are wide squares and lots of gardens. The old Royal Palace was the best bit; it still had the huge tiled stoves, actually working, which was nice as the cathedral was freezing. There is a magnificent great hall with a most unusual vaulted stone ceiling, very impressive. 

Tiled Stove

There is a replica of the crown of the kingdom of Bohemia on show. Because the crown is so old, the stones are not cut, but they are huge. Best of all you can see the actual window of the second Defenestration of Prague which started the Thirty Years' War. It's a long way down, they were lucky to survive.

Apse window, St Vitus'

St Vitus' Cathedral is Gothic and has a beautiful soaring nave. It's not too cluttered and for some reason it was not finished completely until 1929, so the windows are by relatively modern Czech artists, including one by Alphons Mucha, which was lovely, but I thought that all the windows were superb. The ancient Kings of Bohemia were crowned the kings here, and there is a special pulpit with a private way in from the royal residence. 

The "Golden Lane" consists of tiny houses, originally for the musketeers guarded the castle. Some are on display as they were used at various times, which was interesting s they gave you a bit of a course on Czech history.

In the evening, We had tickets for the opera (the internet is a wonderful thing!). It was Verdi's Otello, with Jose Cura in the title role, and Czech singers, Paul Vykopalova and Richard Haan, as Desdemona and Iago. They were brilliant, all of them. The love scene was piercingly beautiful.

We had brought` smart clothes for the opera, and it was an uncomfortable walk over the cobbles in high heels, which I don't like wearing at the best of times,  but the opera house is just at the far end of Wenceslas Square, so it was not worth taking public transport. And I still felt quite dowdy. There were plenty of men in black tie, and women in evening gowns, so I felt a day dress did not really cut the mustard. We might have been OK in the gods, but the seats were so cheap, by British standards, that we were in the stalls. Luckily, Vykopalova is young and attractive, and Otello is Meant to be older. Sometimes, though, at the opera, it pays to be further from the stage.