In August, I went on a purchasing trip to Southern Italy.
The last time I visited was in February, when the town was quiet and desolate with no sign of people, but in August, southern Italy was bathed in bright sunlight and the town and people were full of energy.
We arrived in Rome early in the morning and headed south. After some travel, we finally arrived at the town where our accommodation was located at around 9pm. As I was opening the door, I heard a cute meow from behind me. When I turned around, there was a small kitten.
Ahh, how cute! Just their cries instantly soothe the fatigue of the long journey. What amazing creatures. But at the same time, I was already feeling disheartened and thinking, "I wonder how my cats are doing. I miss them, I want to go home soon."
Tomorrow I will start looking for antiques. I am excited, but at the same time I am also feeling anxious about the travel.
Last time, I chose a location for my base that was like an isolated island, and it was difficult to even get out of the city, so I learned from that experience and chose a fairly large city for my base this time that was relatively easy to get around.
However, southern Italy was once again left in a bad state by its poor transportation.
In Southern Italy, where the rail network is not well developed, local buses are essential for travel, especially to inland towns and villages. However, local buses in the countryside of Southern Italy are a real challenge every time. In big cities, it's not so bad, but in small rural towns, it's hard to know where the bus stop is, or rather, you can't even find it.
I wandered around with Google Maps in hand, but still couldn't find the right bus stop, so I asked a lot of people. Even when I finally found a bus stop that looked like the right one, the next hurdle of buying a ticket stood in my way.
In some parts of southern Italy, tickets for bus routes cannot be purchased online or on the bus, so to buy a ticket, you must first find a nearby tabacchi or bar. This is the basic rule, but it is not so easy to buy tickets at any tabacchi or bar.
One day, I went to a town a little distance from my base city to purchase supplies.
After visiting the homes of familiar antique dealers and collectors to make our purchases, we went to Tabacchi, nearby the bus stop, to buy our bus tickets for the return journey.
The procurement was a little delayed, so although we rushed, we couldn't get it done in time, and Tabacchi was already on its lunch break.
In Italy, there is a long lunch break from 1pm to 5pm, so we had no choice but to wander around with our heavy bags or sit on a bench and watch the ants for a few hours, and then when the long-awaited break finally ended at around 5pm, we went to stand by in front of Tabacchi. But no matter how long we waited, there was no sign of it opening.
Why? Today is not even Sunday.
Unfortunately, there were no other Tabacchis in the area where I could buy tickets, so I waited for a while, thinking that one would open soon, but since my bus was about to depart, I gave up on buying a ticket and decided to walk to the bus' starting station, which was far away. According to Google Maps, it was written as a bus terminal. It was a bus terminal and the first stop, so maybe there was a ticket machine! I headed to the bus terminal with a faint hope.
But this was southern Italy after all, and the countryside was not to be underestimated.
There were no ticket machines at the bus terminal, no buses parked there, and no people. There was only a lonely, small bus stop standing there.
Bus terminal…..bus terminal……? ….What's a bus terminal again?
I'm sure the definition is correct. I was wrong in imagining it as a Japanese bus terminal.
As time passed, the sun began to set and my anxiety increased.
It takes an hour by car from the town where I am staying to the town where I am staying. There is no Uber in southern Italy, and there are no taxis on the road. There are no hotels where you can stay on the spur of the moment, and if I miss the bus, I will have no way to get back to the hotel, and sleeping outdoors will cross my mind.
Anyway, we can't get started without buying a bus ticket. We asked random people "Where can I buy a bus ticket?" But no one knew because there were few people riding the bus in the first place. We repeatedly went to pharmacies and bars where we were told "You can buy a ticket there", but we couldn't buy one either, and finally we reached a cafe that sold tickets and managed to buy one. But then the bus didn't come, and we waited and waited, but it never came. We checked the timetable carefully, and saw the small words "8/◯ - 8/◯ No service in the afternoon". We were shocked. This was completely our mistake, we didn't check enough. If the bus doesn't come, then this ticket is just a piece of paper. What was the point of our several hours of hard work? Actually, they should have told us when we bought the ticket.
There's no point in complaining, so I pull myself together and look for a way back to the inn.
There it was. It looked like I could get home after two hours of bus and train transfers. Luckily, both were publicly run. Tickets could be bought online. My mood brightened up.
That was the last train, but there was about 20 minutes between when I got off the bus and when the train departed. I thought I'd be able to make the connection just in time.
After spending over two hours in a cafe with Italian pop music playing, I headed to the bus stop. However, 10 minutes passed and the bus still hadn't come. 15 minutes passed... My expression started to distort. Just when I was about to give up, thinking that even if the bus did come, I wouldn't be able to make the train in time, the bus arrived, 20 minutes late. I managed to get on the bus, but the next problem was whether I would be able to make the last train.
The bus arrived at the bus stop 4 minutes before the last train departed. According to Google Maps, it was a 5-minute walk from the bus stop to the station. I could see the tracks from the bus, so I knew the direction of the station. Anyway, I decided to run in the direction where the station looked like when I got off the bus. Then, someone who got off the bus before me started running as fast as they could. Reflexively, we also started running after him as fast as we could. That person also wanted to catch the train. No doubt about it!
He runs as hard as he can, clutching in both arms a bag filled with vases and other goods he has purchased.
"If this is going to happen, I shouldn't have bought so many," I thought, feeling a little regretful. While I was running, it felt like I was in slow motion, and the image of my feet getting tangled and falling over flashed in my mind over and over again.
Perhaps realizing that we wouldn't make it in time, my husband, who had been running far ahead of me, came back and ran with my luggage.
As we rushed onto the platform, the female driver of the stopped train leaned out of the driver's seat window, shouted the name of the town we were going back to, and waved her hand to let us know, "This is the train!" I still think back to it now and again, how wonderful a sight it was.
As soon as I sat down, the train started to move. I was finally able to go home. I felt a deep sense of relief, but at the same time, I couldn't help but laugh.
On the way home, I was thinking back on the whole incident as I was rocked back and forth on the train.
It was a tough day...
But all I can think of are the kind faces of the people I met. I can't speak English. But everyone was kind to me. Some people even called a taxi they knew. As I sat at the bus stop in despair, someone said, "It'll work out somehow," and looked up various routes for me. Everyone was shy, but kind and very warm. That's what makes the inconvenient journey in southern Italy so interesting. When I experience the kindness of people, I want to come back again, even though it's inconvenient.
So we were once again baptized by Southern Italy. My husband had brought his international driver's license, but the truth is that he still had bitter memories of our previous trip to Southern France (the incident where we almost rolled off the road with our car) .
Undaunted, he continued to collect antiques, making use of local buses and trains.
At an antique market in a small town that I didn't go to last time, I was able to find the stone mortaio I had been longing for.
Mortars, or mortars as they are commonly called, are made of stone, marble, or wood and can be found quite often in European antique markets, so they are not that rare an item. However, it can be hard to find one that you like.
Even when I have come across one, I always end up not having enough space in my luggage or it's too big, so it's an item that is far removed from me and I have never been able to bring it back to Japan.
Because what I want is a stone or marble mortaio, and it's extremely heavy.
But finally, I found it! In the collection displayed by a cute old man who looked like Santa Claus, I found a small stone called Mortaio that I really liked. It looked like something I could take home even though I was nearing the end of my shopping.
I gently picked it up and looked up, and the old man was doing a "good job" pose with a big smile on his face. Hehehe ♡ I know, it's really nice!
"I'd like this, please," I said in broken Italian.
The old man then began to gesturize excitedly and quickly say something like, "This Mortaio is..."
"I'm sorry, I don't understand Italian very well," I told the old man in my broken Italian, and he looked a little disappointed. I'm sure he wanted to tell him the good things about it. The old man was embarrassed and didn't finish talking to the translation app. While feeling frustrated with my poor language skills, I left the place feeling pleased to have finally gotten my hands on the Mortaio.
The old man's collection was great. I wonder if we'll meet again next time. I'll try to have a little more conversation next time.
During my stay, I also visited the pottery town of Grottaglie. Grottaglie is located on a windy hilltop with abundant clay deposits, and thanks to its favorable geographical location, it has prospered through pottery production since the Middle Ages. Even today, many potters line the streets and the town is bustling with tourists.
The church in Grottaglie. The ceramic cupolas make it seem like this is a town of pottery.
While I was there, I also decided to visit the Pottery Museum in town.
I thought I would take my time looking around, but since it was a small museum, I ended up looking around sooner than I expected. Since there was still a lot of time before the return train, we were the only visitors in the museum, so we spent the time playing a quiz to guess the age of the pottery.
Luckily, I was able to get around the second half of the trip by train only, so I was relieved from the pain of traveling by bus and stress-free! But then I had a problem with shipping my luggage.
The last few days were spent constantly arguing with the delivery company, which took a toll on me mentally.
Eventually, even the delivery company driver who had come to pick up our luggage a few days earlier joined in.
One morning, the driver suddenly came to visit us and told the company operator what we had to say. Of course, the driver only spoke Italian, so we had to use a translation app to get through to him. The driver was angry at the operator, who was only following the manual and couldn't understand what we were saying, and started yelling into the phone. Although they weren't the ones being scolded, we were worried about what the neighbors would think and were very nervous. After a while of back and forth between the driver and the operator, the driver said, "It's probably okay now."
"Is everything okay?" The driver left us there, dumbfounded and unable to fully comprehend the situation.
That night, the shipping company finally emailed me the additional documents I needed for customs declaration.
Yes, I had been calling and emailing them for days, asking them to send it. Each time, I was passed around from one operator to another, and their promises of "I'll send it later" and "I'll send it after my break" were never fulfilled. What on earth is going on in Italy? I wonder what would have happened to our luggage if that driver hadn't come. I am so grateful to that tough-looking but kind driver.
After all that, the day before I left southern Italy, my package was finally accepted and I was relieved to be able to send it safely to Japan.
On my last night in southern Italy, I decided to take a walk around the city at night. It was past 11pm, but there were so many people. Dogs, children, and adults were all enjoying the summer evening.
As I walk, I think about the weeks I spent in southern Italy.
It's inconvenient and there are a lot of problems, but the city and scenery are beautiful, everything is delicious, and the people are warm. There are almost no Asians, or rather, not a single one, and the local atmosphere of only Italian is also nice.
The great thing about southern Italy is that in the end you feel glad that you came.
Purchasing trips are very physically and mentally draining. To be honest, every time I come back home, I feel like I don't want to go back for a while.
We live in a convenient age, so there are things you can get without going to the trouble of visiting the place. On the other hand, there are also things you can only get by going to the trouble of going to the trouble of visiting the place.
We hope to be able to bring home the atmosphere of the place along with the antiques, which is why we want to select our items in that place, with our own feet, our own eyes, and our own hands.
As we continue to do this, I hope that the people and products we encounter during our travels, as well as the experiences and memories we accumulate, will gradually help to develop the individuality of our store.
Arrived!
