New mission in San Remo and surrounds

Yesterday , on the train on the way here, I was thinking about what I  wanted to do while i am jn san remo  and how to arrange my time to make sure i saw what i wanted, knowing that having a rest is the priority.

   Yesterday afternoon when I arrived here, I found out that the husband of a good friend ( both who shall be nameless and unidentifiable at this stage so I shall call my friend A, as in A Friend, and her husband, H as in Her Husband)  was in a very serious condition in hospital.  I spent  a lot of the evening trying to think of what I could do and I suddenly thought that I could visit and take photos of and say a prayer in as many of the many, many churches that are in this area as possible. A plan for my time here.

This blog and subsequent ones may become long and boring,  but A and or H may like to read it later.

This morning I enjoyed watching the interchange of the locals while I was having my morning coffee. I then went to the large market that operates each morning here. The food is in a large barn like structure and round the barn on all sides are about 4 rows of tents selling bags, shoes,  undies,  kitchen gadgets, scarfs, jumpers, etc etc. I entered the outer area , wandered off and realised I had not taken note of the shops near where I had come in,  all the tall apartment blocks around looked the same. Oops. I worked it out, and then went inside. Rows and rows of lovely local fruit and veg jn the middle, and on the outside wall cheese, meat, bread, etc etc.  I wandered around watching the system, . Years ago jn italy it was a big no no to pick up the fruit.  Here , now, you get a round bowl, fill it up with what you want, all muddled up, then pass the bowl to the person behind the counter  who weighs it and rattles off very quickly the numbers of how much you owe them.  Lots of people only buy a few of things, so I didnot feel bad with my 2 peaches, 2 nectarines, few tomatoes, 4 figs, 3 pears ( the lady who sold me the piquant provolone told me I should eat it with pear)

I carried my purchases home and spent the rest of the morning reading about where and what I wanted to go and see  I. E.which little villages had interesting churches. I also installed viber so I could talk to another friend, which I did. She is , amongst other things,  the relayer of information about A and H, so I shall refer to her as R. It was good to talk to her because I feel very far away.

The proprietor of this apartment recommended a restaurant to me near here, down a laneway. I went there for lunch. After my experience there, I see no reason to eat anywhere else in San Remo. There were 2 rooms, the one I was in had 5 tables of 4 and 5 tables of 2. They had a special menu which I chose from. First off it said 4 types of pasta, then I chose rabbit because, apart from Burton hall when I was at uni, I donot recall ever eating rabbit. Then it must have been cheap . We were told it was chicken but some biology students put together the bones. Anyway,  I got there at 12.30 and just got a table. People at many of the other tables knew each other and the proprietor, there was a 2 year old who every one was enjoying,  it was someones birthday.  I watched what was going on, trying to work out the connections, people seemed to wander into the kitchen to talk to the staff, the food was excellent, but far too much for me. When the rabbit came I was not sure what to do.  Luckily about that time I got involved in a conversation,  the usual, where was I from , what was I doing in San remo,  why there. One guy spoke better English than my Italian,  so that was good.  So that gave me a breather and then someone said 'stop talking so that the signora can eat her rabbit' .  i ate about a third of the rabbit, which was very good, a speciality of this part of Liguria. Asmthey were leaving, veryone said goodbye to every one else, including me, because I was near the door. Fascinating.

I thought I would go for a little walk/climb  straight after lunch.  I went up some stairs to where there was a church marked on the map. I could not get into it and it was behind a big fence. Ah well. Mission strike 1. On the way back to my apartment there is a mosque marked. I spent a long time looking for it, no luck. Mission strike 2. At least most of that time I was thinking about A,  H and their family. I suppose that counts for something.

After an afternoon rest  I set off to the piazza where I sat for my spritz yesterday. There was a church there and I had seen people going in and out. Today, however, I read the fine, print on the notice on the gate thing in front of the door. It is closed for renovations. Yesterday's people must have been tradesmen.  Mission strike 3. Also marked on the map is a baptistry nearby. It is ther, all closed up. Strike 4.  In the same haggled piggledy piazza there is a oratorio where services are being held while the renovation works are going, on. I went over and looked. There was an empty hearse outside and 4 large men loitering in the entrance way. Another time, I thought. Not a yes, but not a strike.

Next I went to the bus depot to get some timetables of buses to other townsmen the region. After that I went into a church I passed.  There was nothing particularly remarkable about it. There were 8 side chapels, each with 'candles' to ' light'. I have not noticed before, but in this church you take a candle like object and put it in an empty space on a rack which , when contact is made, lights a globe inside the pretend candle.  Not what I was hoping for. Next problem was to chose which chapel would be most appropriate, which was surprisingly difficult because none appealed to me. Mission success 1,  sort of.

An interlude of history fromthe Lonely Planet guide book.

San Remo gained prominence as a resort for Europe's social elite, especially British and Russian in the mid to late 19th century when the likes of empress Maria alexandrovna ( mother of Nicholas Ii, the last tsar) held court there. Now a few old hotels survive as luxury resorts but many are past their prime.

There is a Russian Orthodox church  in San remo which I walked to next. It was small, with lots of coloured tiles outside. Inside were lots of paintings,  either like icons or quite detailed like some of the byzantine pain tings I have seen. It was light and felt good. I sat for a while,  feeling sad that I know next to nothing about my Russian grandfather.  A huge plus was that they had real candles, so I chose a suitable place for the candle I lit from someone else's candle. I like the symbolism in that action. H would have been interested in the church. Mission success 2.

Home via a different piazza, aperol spritz again, a different ( accidently and hence larger)  selection of lanes to return home. A lovely juicy peach and a fig for dinner.