Ravenna’s rich mosaic
Why this Italian newbie was floored by this ancient city’s architecture... but also got some downtime in Rimini
IT was a night on the tiles like no other I’d experienced, drinking vino in the warmth of an Adriatic evening with the ornate cathedral and richly adorned environs as our backdrop. Tiles – or mosaics to give them their classical Italian name – are everywhere here in Ravenna. In the cathedral, on the signposts outside which have pointed us to this buzzing ristorante and our feast of food and wine. Well, when in Ravenna as someone might, or should, have said.
And to think only four hours ago I was back in cold, old Dublin.
It is my first trip to Italy (I know, I don’t know either) and I am immediately bowled over by the scenery.
From Bologna airport sprawling fields of sunflowers line the one-hour drive to Ravenna – an ancient Italian town, which like Venice was built on a series of canals that were later covered with pavement – a measure aimed at preventing the spread of malaria.
It was malaria that caused the death of the poet Dante whose bones remain entombed in a Ravenna mausoleum to this day.
A myriad of treasures accompany Dante’s remains in the superb Basilica di San Vitale. It is an awe-inducing structure, and it’s not rammed with
tourists. The basilica and its adjacent mausoleum were ours to roam (almost) exclusively. You might remember a time when you didn’t have to bob and weave your way through a maze of selfie sticks... well, this was a reminder of just such peace and serenity.
The octagonal building is adorned with a series of magnificent Biblical mosaics. Italy, of course, is an art-lover’s dream, but if you want to see mosaics, Ravenna is where to come.
It boasts among the oldest and best-preserved in existence depicting all the great tales such as the story of Moses and the Burning Bush and Cain and Abel.
Remarkably the architect and artists responsible for the incredible building remain unknown. This is almost impossible for me to fathom. If I so much as successfully erect an Ikea bookshelf, I feel compelled to share my triumph with just about anyone who will listen.
The church’s mosaics spill out into the lanes outside where each street sign is adorned in the multicoloured tile patterns.
Also to be found beyond the reaches of the cathedral are numerous wonderful restaurants, one of which hosted one of the finest meals I have ever eaten (a record that would be set and quickly beaten several times in the course of this trip.)
There, we were served up a feast of fresh and fried veg, salads, pastas and a bottle (or two) of local wine. Repeatedly, when I thought there couldn’t possibly be any food or drink left on the Eastern coast of Italy, our waiter would appear with yet another serving of wine or a platter of cured meats.
From the drinks menu, we were offered a chilled, sparkling, local red wine that shouldn’t work, but did.
Brimful with culture and relaxed after my feast and a good night’s sleep, it was time to head for the beach.
Just less than an hour out of Ravenna sits the town of Rimini which is renowned for its beaches.
They are divided into a series of private sections belonging to the hotel and apartment complexes in the vicinity so while you do need to be resident there to gain access you do reap the benefits with umbrellas and sun loungers on offer - negating the need for towels and picnic blankets on the sand.
My stay in Rimini coincided with the annual ‘La Notte Rosa’ festival, where locals ring in the summer and are encouraged to wear pink. The town is dressed in pink decorations and accessories for ‘the pink night’ days in advance.
The five-star ‘Grand Hotel Rimini’ which overlooks the beach hosted a lavish bash to mark the festival. The extravagant party was attended by local media, government ministers and high-profile business people.
Sparkling rosé and Aperol Spritz were on tap for the evening and guests queued to fill their plates with a selection of salads, pastas, dried breads and meats from a well-stocked buffet.
And that was just for ‘starters’, thus beginning another exercise in pushing my stomach to its absolute limit.
DESPITE the excessive amounts of breads that had been consumed that evening I did make room for a trip to the dessert table which boasted rum-soaked doughnuts and marvellous pavlova.
Outside of the grounds of the Grand Hotel, scores of jovial locals lined the streets for a series of festivities including a rock concert and a funfair.
After a trip on the ferris wheel, we were treated to midnight fireworks on the beach.
There are certain moments from every trip where you feel compelled to take an internal snapshot to forever hold dear – this was one of those moments for me.
Much of the town of Rimini was destroyed during World War Two including a massive amphitheatre, the bones of which remain.
The city offers a great walking tour and commercial businesses and retail establishments are respectfully juxtaposed with the town’s historic features.
Perhaps Rimni’s most charming feature is its ‘Fellini quarter’ a section of the city dedicated to the memory of the late director Federico Fellini who hailed from here.
Murals of scenes from his movies are in situ right across the quarter with locals so dedicated to honouring the cinematographer – that the exterior of some of their houses fea- ture scenes from his work.
The dreamy pastel-coloured homes in this part of Rimini look like something straight out of a Wes Anderson film.
After a tour of the Felini quarter, we ate at La Marianna. We’re in good company, Beyoncé has dined here and judging by the fare, I’m sure Queen Bey would have been well amused.
We feasted on piadina, a flat bread native to Rimini, fresh sardines from the harbour which we looked out upon from the decking, balsamic
and parmesan salad and fried fish. We were encouraged to finish the meal with a curious-looking green liquid which transpired to be a fennel shot. The last stop of the trip was to an olive farm in the Rimini countryside. Some of the trees which stand on Cleto Renzi’s property were planted in the 13th century. When we are greeted by Cleto he is the textbook definition of an Italian patriarch dressed in a straw hat and a white linen shirt on his sunched farm. He guides us under an olive tree to sample a small tasting of the olive oil he produces. You are not supposed to guzzle it but to let it slide down the back of your throat.
We are then presented with fresh cherry tomatoes to accompany the silky oil.
Cleto doesn’t sell the 6,000 litres of olive oil he produces each year to large supermarkets.
Instead, he favours smaller clients whom he insists come to his farm to get the full experience of his oil and the production behind it.
We are later guided inside to try our hands at making piadina, a flat bread we had come to eat several times over the course of the trip.
We later ate our creations alongside one last feast in the restaurant on the site which is intended to feed guests staying on the Agriturismo Ripabottina property.
‘In my home everybody will die under an olive tree’ Mr Renzi said while passing out his beloved oil. And on the blissfully sunny day in front of a most majestic view of the Italian countryside and the sprawling coastline, I think to myself ‘this would be as good a place as any.’