Trani and Bari

One benefit of staying in a hotel is the buffet breakfast, when available. I took full advantage of this. With two cups of cappuccino running in my veins, I bounced out of the hotel to wander in other parts of the port before the day got too hot. In the south one has to take more care with broken pavements and even less orderly traffic.

Trani's main monument is the cathedral, dedicated to S. Nicola. Maybe I should have paid him some respect in his house, because he was to cause me trouble later that evening.

Here is the fort of Trani.

Posters in the city publicised that this was Europe Day. On this day in 1950, France's foreign minister, Robert Schuman, proposed the unification of coal and iron production in France and Germany under a single body. This was the precursor of what was to become the European Union.

As I would not get a chance to shower until Croatia, I did so before checking out. I arrived in Bari around 1800 and at this hour the bus platforms outside the train station were teeming with people going every direction. Since I had until 2000 to board the ferry, I went looking for Internet access as I didn't know what how widespread it would be in Croatia. I found it in a laundromat. Nice combination: check your email while your clothes tumble. They told me that bus 20, the one that goes to the ferry terminus, went past a couple of streets away. But after a bit of walking I wasn't so sure anymore, so I retraced my steps to the bus station.

At the enquiry counter, the clerk, in reply to my question, said slowly to make sure I understood: 20 barrato, meaning 20/, the route going in the opposite direction of 20. In Europe, the bar or slash is a mark that commonly denotes the negation of something. For example, at the town limit of Anacapri, you will see a road sign with Anacapri and a bar running across it.

The 1925 bus didn't appear. Finally the 2005 bus turned up but the driver chatted with colleagues for 10 minutes before setting off. As the bus reached the middle of town, we hit a huge traffic jam. It was the last day of the Festival of S. Nicola. Yes, the same one called Santa Claus elsewhere. And Bari is his hometown. The bus diverted left and right to avoid blocked-off streets. Even the Italian backpackers were confused. At one stop, a whole crowd of celebrants got on. Like me they had no idea where they would get off, they were just trying to get closer to the celebrations any way they could. Luckily the bus driver knew we backpackers were going to the ferry and told us that he would announce when to get off.

All that delay had eaten into my safety margin and I was so flustered that as soon as we reached the port, I walked towards the ferry, only to be stopped at the loading ramp by officials. No, no, you have to go back, they said. Ma dov'e? I cried in frustration. They pointed me to the immigration building. Ah, stupid me, if I had been thinking I would have realised that there would be some formalities. So after walking back and getting my passport stamped, I boarded a shuttle bus which took me to where I had been 15 minutes ago, but this time in the right queue. All that exertion on a humid evening had soaked me in sweat. Anyway I was safe now, it was 2130 and there was half an hour to spare. In fact the ferry departed 30 minutes late; perhaps some passengers had been delayed by the traffic.

But we did get to see fireworks over the city at the conclusion of the S. Nicola holiday, so the saint did give us a good send-off in the end.

Up on the deck, under garish fluorescent lights, passengers were cooling off in the breeze and refreshing themselves with amber fluids.

My cabin is deep in the bowels of the ship. I have the whole 2 bunk cabin to myself. The low hum of the engines pervades the whole space. Time to use the ear plugs. It was soothing in a way, because it drowned out any surprising noises, and I slept well on the crossing.