Goosy Goosy Gander

Why does a small hilltop village in southern Italy remind of 17th century London? It's difficult to say exactly.
Maybe you just have to visit  the village and see for yourself!

Formicola, is in the province of Caserta, about 45 km (28 miles) north of Naples and about 20 km (12 miles) north west of  the town of Caserta. Its name derives from the Hebrew 'Fhor Michol'-
'boiling stream' because of the hot springs in the area.
It has about 1,500 inhabitants so in size it's a lot smaller than the capital in 1600 with its 250,000 inhabitants. In character, though, it does bear some similarity. Founded in the 9th century, it still contains many Medieval buildings; such as the Santa Cristina church of the 11th century and the palazzo Carafa, the former home of Duke Diomede I Carafa, dating from 1407. It also still celebrates a number of traditional festivals such as the cherry festival, Festa della ciliegia, every June.

In the popular nursery rhyme about 17th century London, 'Goosy Gander' the geese represent the 'ladies of the night' who wandered about the city plying their trade to gain their daily bread. At the time they would have visited the popular inns and taverns like 'the Anchor' and 'Ye Old Cheshire Cheese'. If you've ever been on an historic walk through the older parts of London, through the narrow, darkened cobbled streets you can how easy it is to hide.

Formicola  also provides just as many hiding places.  Its full of abandoned houses. ruined outbuildings. crumbling barns, deserted gardens, thorn- covered ravines. And I should know I've searched them all!

If you'd fallen on hard times and were in need of sustenance in modern day Formicola where would you wander to? Perhaps to one of the village's many vineyards? Or the big cherry orchard at the entrance to the town? Or one of the three bars in the village square?

 One is open at 6am and serves fantastic hot cornetti (croissants) alla marmellata. After wandering about half the  night -believe me!- you'll appreciate it! But where would you go if you couldn't speak Italian, were really frightened- and not even human? A cat, in fact. Mmmm...... Well.... I've spent  three unsuccessful months trying to answer that same question.Any yet the answer was obvious to any intelligent animal: a good restaurant. Its called Valentino, via Coso (81040 Formicola) If we compare the menu to that of its 17th century counterpart we do notice a number of notable differences.
I know which I'd prefer. As for my cat, Boris, then I'm just guessing!
But all I can say is that it was with great difficulty that he was removed from his lodging house!

All this proves the well-known aphorism, I suppose, about following your nose to find the answer. I look forward to celebrating the return of my familiar friend in this restaurant. Meanwhile my sincerest thanks go out to its patrons and to Rosalba. She has rescued many animals and if you are able to donate to her cause the details are- https://www.facebook.com/auriliorosalba.
Alternatively if want to visit this sleepy Italian
village check out these properties- http://www.giardinoaurilio.it

Taking The Waters: Late Summer In Montesilvano

“There is no place like the beach... where the land meets the sea and the sea meets the sky”  

― Umair Siddiqui

August. Don't you look forward to the month all year long! As soon as the tinsel is boxed, its on to the internet to choose your seaside holiday. According to a recent Sunday Times survey- if you're set on foreign shores- it may well have been an Italian beach.

This year, however, you may have regretted your choice. For even those hot blooded Italians have adopted the English pre-occupation with the weather. 'Lucifero' reigns supreme. Their social media is full of it and there you can even view  a new species of human: the "homo aqua"-

We hear  the endless jokes about camels leaving the country for the African oases. We see  the Italian meteo maps awash red warning triangles. We read that  Italy is the hottest place  on earth, outside the Sahara desert! For Italians there has never been a more pressing need to take the waters!

It's early August now an we're still in the grip of this great African pestilence. If Pepys was still around he'd be writing about it in his diary. Yesterday we fled to the hills. Our destination a thermal town, Caramanico,  700 m above sea level.

Approaching the foothills the car thermometer reached
an unprecedented 42.5 degrees Celsius.We photographed it.
Then it continued to rise.
We were too hot to another  to photograph it again!

Arriving at Caramanico the only cold air we find is in a air conditioned hotel. The windows were all closed to prevent the dense smoke of  nearby forest fires entering. Dante's Inferno sprung to mind. By the time we arrived home the only waters I am able to partake of are those of my own shower!

However, as always, I remain the true Scot! And,  a recent DNA test has shown me to be a 40% Viking, so it's down to the sea early next morning. And yes, the water's fresh! Thank God!

The sea of Montesilvano has provided refreshment for  many years. The town was founded in the 11th century and grew up around a castle in the wooded -Silva-  hills above.
Now  this is   Montesilvano Colle (hill)  to distinguish it from the fishing village, Montesilvano Marina (sea) that grew into the present day beach resort. And this year- if you've chosen Italy- it  may well be the place to be.

From the fresh fountains to mitigate the thirst to the  cooling  Adriatic sea to refresh the body. There is certainly plenty of water to partake!





Today, August 5th, is to be the last one we must suffer Beelzebub's fury- according to the latest Meteo reports. Tomorrow cooling heavenly breezes will start to waft in from the Atlantic Ocean.
 A late bookings to Italy may still prove to be a wise choice. At 5.30 a.m. we are sent a portent or promise. . It comes in the form of the most beautiful rosy aurora and full blown alba sunrise that residents of Montesilvano have probably ever witnessed. Noah would be out of his ark and enjoying a celebratory swim already. And so will I be in a couple of hours.

But I have got something even more personal to celebrate. For it is not the splendid sunrise that my husband wanted to show me this morning. Not the rosy alba, but a video from Rosalba. Evidence - if evidence is needed - that even in the infernal heat that scorched since June, miracles can still occur.
In my next post I will relate this particular miracle.