Postcard from Monopoli, Italy: Almost had the place to ourselves

monopoli fishing boats

An ancient fortified port in Puglia at the top of the heel of Italy’s boot, Monopoli has a reputation for being less touristy than many of the picturesque towns in the region. We hopped a train there from Lecce in mid-November, way past high season, and almost had the place to ourselves. Even the locals were sparse. Which meant the old town center was perfect for us to wander freely among its plazas and narrow streets.

The custodien closing the heavy wooden doors of the Baroque cathedral at noon kindly allowed us to do a whiplash tour just as the church bell was ringing its 12 dongs. The basilica dedicated to Madonna della Madia was constructed in the mid-1700s on the site of an earlier church.

Construction of the first church began in 1107 but was halted due to a lack of building materials for the roof. But, lo and behold, a miracle occurred in 1117. A raft formed from enormous beams tied together (a madia) floated into the harbor bearing an Byzantine image of the Virgin Mary. The revered icon is centered above the altar, and a piece of one of the original beams which allowed the completion of the roof is preserved as a holy relic atop a gold pedestal.

As someone who devoted part of her youth to buying, selling, trading and mortgaging real estate during marathon Monopoly matches, how could I not be drawn to a city bearing the name of the game.

Before hopping the train back to Lecce, the next post will take you to one more spot in Monopoli.

Postcard from Lecce, Italy: Lavish Baroque details grace Basilica di Santa Croce

basilica di santa croce

Lecce’s natural supply of a soft stone must have been a Baroque architect’s dream come true. Sculptors could carve leaves, flowers, winged creatures and lacey curvaceous Solomonic columns to their hearts content. Baroque architecture dominated Lecce in the 17th and 18th centuries, with the Basilica di Santa Croce perhaps standing as the queen of Lecce’s distinctive elaborate style inside and out.

Santa Croce was built between 1549 and 1646 by the Order of Celestines, a branch of Benedictines founded by Pope Celestin V (1215-1296). The pope was a reluctant one, serving for less than six months before resigning. His edict confirming a pope’s right to abdicate legitimized the retreat of Pope Benedict XVI more than eight centuries later.

Some of the building materials for Santa Croce were salvaged from the temple and homes of Jewish families in Lecce who were expelled by order of the Kingdom of Naples in 1510. Much of the decoration viewed above is the work of Giuseppe Zimbalo (1620-1710). While the atlantes, men, and creatures supporting the balustrade appear whimsical, they are a symbolic celebration of the Holy League’s naval victory over the Ottoman Empire in the 1571 Battle of Lepanto. More than 400 ships participated in the battle, and the death toll at the end was a loss of approximately 7,500 Christians and 30,000 Turks. A devastating defeat for the Ottoman Empire.

The hunched atlantes represent some of the 10,000 Turks captured; the animals guarding them represent the allies who took part in the victorious coalition organized by Pope Pius V (1504-1572) with major financial and naval support from Philip II of Spain (1527-1598). The cute-looking griffin below represents the Kingdom of Genoa; the dragon the Boncompagni family.

 

Postcard from Naples, Italy: Virtual church for times restricted to armchair travel

On the left, Saint Sebastian, the protector against the plague, Monumental Complex Donnaregina

During these days when many a traveler unwittingly has brought back coronavirus as an unwelcome souvenir, we remain grounded and semi-cloistered at home in San Antonio. Spring plans canceled.

With churches locking their doors to try to keep their parishioners safely cocooned in their houses, Sunday seems a good time to share some snapshots from churches taken during a fall trip to Naples.

Am including an assortment of saints to serve most any request. Perhaps Saint Sebastian, the protector against the plague, should be a logical choice? Depictions of saints painfully attaining martyrdom are included to remind us that this confinement is not so bad, particularly as we have internet to let us connect with one another and the world.

And am throwing in the body of one saint-in-waiting, the Venerable Giacomo Torno, lying in an incorrupt state since his death in 1609 as a reminder most aspects of Roman Catholicism remain mysterious and incomprehensible to me, an outsider admiring the art and architecture while always avoiding mass.