Rome to Taormina - Part 2 Great Continental Railway Journeys

'I'm embarking on a new railway adventure that will take me

'across the heart of Europe.'

I'll be using this, my Bradshaw's Continental Railway Guide,

dated 1913, which opened up an exotic world of foreign travel

for the British tourist.

'It told travellers where to go, what to see, and how to navigate

'the thousands of miles of tracks crisscrossing the Continent.

'Now, a century later,

'I'm using my copy to reveal an era of great optimism and energy,

'where technology, industry, science and the arts were flourishing.'

I want to rediscover that lost Europe, that in 1913 couldn't know

that its way of life would shortly be swept aside by the advent of war.

I'm continuing my journey through Southern Italy.

I began in Rome and travelled Southeast, skirting the Apennine Mountains to Naples.

Today I'll cross to the glamorous island of Capri.

Heading further south towards the toe of Italy,

I'll visit Messina,

gateway to Sicily.

I'll end my journey in ancient Taormina.

In Naples, I'll learn about the true art of pizza...

You know Picasso?

-I do know Picasso.

-You make Picasso, please.

..confront death and destruction in Messina...

Modern estimates reckon that perhaps 60 or 80,000 were killed.

..and be all at sea on my train...

It's quite alarming that we are actually sailing

while the bow door is still coming down.

I couldn't visit Naples without sampling the food.

Arguably the city's most famous dish,

exported all round the world,

is the Neapolitan pizza.

It started life as far back as 1522,

when tomatoes from the New World

were combined with local Neapolitan bread.

But the more widely it spread,

the further it moved away from its authentic origins.

So 70 of Naples' most famous pizza-making families

grouped together to form the True Neapolitan Pizza Association.

Pizzeria Mattozzi opened in 1832

and has fed its fair share of hungry Edwardian travellers.

-Paulo.

-Hi, Mike, how are you?

It's good to see you. Are we going to make some pizza?

OK, you make without this, and you make with this for pizza.

-OK.

-OK?

You make the pizza here at the front of the restaurant?

Yes. Traditional of pizza Neapolitan.

It's beautiful.

'Its doughy success is down to its strong white flour.'

You make the dough in the flour...

and you make three movements. It's important.

One...two and three. I show you fast. OK?

Wow!

This is the system, the traditional system of Napoli.

-I couldn't even see your hands moving, it was so fast.

-Very fast.

You make it here...

-Down.

-With up.

-And up.

-Yes. Yes.

-And then I turn it over?

-Change.

One, two and three.

But why is my pizza not round? Will it work out?

Can I save this one?

-Yes. One, two, three.

-One, two, three.

-But it's still not going round.

-I know. I know.

'OK, so I cheated. It's Paolo's.'

OK, you make a tomato. One spoon, you make the round.

Do you know Picasso?

I do know Picasso.

Yes. You make the Picasso, please. OK?

-OK.

-Now make a round motion.

This is mozzarella.

-Yes.

-On top of our tomato.

-OK.

And do you make oil?

I have to make a figure six.

-Sempre.

-Si.

-Va bene.

Six better. Perfect.

-And you make in the oven.

-Really? Ready for the oven already?

Now, Paulo, does it go a long way back?

Can you hold that? It's very strong.

Without, without.

-Ah!

-OK.

The oven is so beautiful.

At the back there are all the glowing embers of the logs of wood

and we just put the pizza in the foreground.

And I can already see the pizza changing, cooking.

It's ready. Yeah.

OK. You taste your pizza.

-Yes, please.

-Right.

OK. You ready?

-Buon appetito!

-Buon appetito!

-Mm!

-Mmm!

-Good!

-Bravo!

-Good, good!

-Very good.

Very good topping. Good.

-Mm!

-It's delicious.

I'm up early, leaving Naples and its overwhelming intensity behind.

Tourism until the late 19th century

had largely been a northern European phenomenon.

In 1913, it must have taken a plucky sort of traveller

to head so far south into this untamed world.

INDISTINCT CHATTER

'I'm taking a ferry to make the 25-mile trip

'to the island of Capri.

'Edwardian travellers confronted with a modern ship

'would be searching for the boiler and funnel.

'But at the stern, this scene might have been more familiar.'

I've been trying to figure out the rules of this game.

They seem to follow suit, when they can...

..but at the end, they count up the cards they've got left,

which count against them, I think, like penalties.

So it's a bit like a combination of whist and rummy,

but vastly more exciting than either.

'It's been played here for hundreds of years

'and the name in Italian means broom,

'since taking a scopa means to sweep all the cards from the table.

'It involves lively, colourful and strongly-worded banter.'

LAUGHTER

On a day like this,

the island of Capri seems to float above the waves

on a little bank of mist.

Perhaps it's trying to return to heaven.

'By the early 20th century, the island was a holiday destination

'for Europe's artistic and literary intelligentsia.

'Librarian Carmelina Fiorentino is from Capri

'and knows all about the island's history.'

Carmelina, the island, from here, is so beautiful,

but what was the particular magnet for writers and artists

at the beginning of the 19th century?

That's the particular light,

very bright light.

When you arrived at the harbour,

you saw how clear are the water.

And there are so many natural beauties,

actually, we are not grateful enough to them now.

One of those amazing natural beauties was the Blue Grotto.

It was discovered in 1826 by a German writer named August Kopisch,

who wrote about finding a huge blue sea cave.

And his book, The Blue Grotto, did the 19th-century equivalent

of going viral, attracting artists from all over the world.

They started to arrive for the Blue Grotto.

But they started to appreciate, also,

the natural beauties of the island

and also the traditional way of life.

And last, but not least, the beauty of the girls.

They could use as models.

The Capri women, with their exotic looks,

fascinated both writers and painters.

John Singer Sargent was considered

the leading portrait painter of his generation.

And during the late 19th century, he immortalised those women.

He arrived with Frank Hyde, who was another English painter,

who introduced him to the local models

and to the hotelier, where most of the artists used to paint.

From the studio, he could admire a wonderful view of the Vesuvio.

Most importantly, Hyde introduced Sargent

to local girl, Rosina Ferrara,

who became his model and muse.

You can see her in hundreds of pictures.

Rosina was 14 when she started to be a model.

And she was a little bit different from her peers.

First of all, she could speak French fluently.

And she was, er...she didn't obey to priests,

who prevented the girls to pose for painters.

Modelling for money must have been welcome work for the Capri women.

Life was tough and the island women had to do hard manual labour

while their men were away fishing.

Rosina and the other models would surely have leapt at the chance

to be paid for sitting still.

She was an Arab type.

She had dark eyes, dark skin, dark hair.

-Yes, yes.

-Typical of Capri, or not?

Yes, of that period, yes.

Most of the girls, we can see were like her.

But thanks to Sargent's work, Rosina and Capri live on,

captured in his paintings which hang in art galleries the world over.

Now I'm beginning to see the island through John Singer Sargent's eyes.

Splendid!

Its breathtaking beauty feeds the soul.

'Refreshed by my island hop and a night back on the mainland,

'I'm being thoroughly charmed by Sorrento's Grand Hotel Victoria.

'Its guest list reads like a Who's Who,

'but the name that stands out for me is my hero,

'the legendary opera tenor, Enrico Caruso.'

OPERA SINGING

Good morning, and welcome to the Caruso suite.

It's a beautiful room, as you can imagine.

Very large bed, surprising,

considering that the singer was actually quite small.

Oh! A piano, should you want a singsong.

But this is the best. This is the best.

The terrace.

With this wonderful view of Naples and Vesuvius.

OPERA SINGING

I've rejoined the mainline at Salerno

to continue my journey to the very southern extremity

of the Italian peninsula.

To the tip of the toe of the boot of Italy and then beyond.

'As I head down the country, I'm beginning to see

'how the south's rugged landscape

'has shaped the character of its people.

'Italy's south remains much poorer than the north.'

High-speed trains in Italy haven't yet spread south from Naples.

This one threads its way along the coast and through lots of tunnels.

It's a pretty scenic route,

but correspondingly, it takes quite a long time.

But not quite as long as at the time of my Bradshaw's guide.

Then, the train from Naples to Villa San Giovanni,

just outside Reggio Calabria, took nearly 13 hours.

Today, they've got it down to 4 hours and 15 minutes.

With such a long haul, I'm taking a tip from the Edwardian traveller.

Come prepared to avoid hunger.

-Hello.

-Well, hello!

-Hello.

-Very pleased to meet you.

I hope this isn't imposing on you, but I have bought myself some lunch.

-OK.

-And I didn't want to eat alone.

-Oh, OK.

-And I wondered if you'd like to join me.

Now, we've got some bread, we've got some lovely tomatoes.

Um... Ha-ha!

Wine in a little mini carafe.

-Ooo! Cheese, lovely!

-Ooo!

That's pecorino cheese.

This is much nicer than the picnic we brought!

LAUGHTER

I think we're going to find it hard to eat the pecorino

unless we open the wine.

-Well met.

-You, too.

-Cheers!

-Cheers!

So, you like the food of Italy, evidently.

It's one of the main reasons we've come.

THEY LAUGH

We went to a little place in Naples, we had an absolutely fabulous pizza.

I had a jolly good pizza, as well. In fact, I helped to cook one.

-Oh, really?

-Much more difficult than I imagined.

But delicious, simple food, but very, very delicious.

How have you found the trains, by the way?

I don't think we've had any problems.

Did you come from Britain by air, or by train?

By train from Glasgow.

Fantastic! And now Naples, Sicily.

And now Naples, Sicily, yes.

Have you any idea how many miles you'll have done by train?

No. 1,000 or so, I suppose.

My goodness, I thought I had a few train miles under my belt,

but I can't compete with you.

And look at the view now!

This is the perfect Italian lunch, I think.

Well, actually I think it's the perfect lunch.

Well, thank you.

Sicily is the largest island in the Mediterranean

and historically, the most interesting.

It covers nearly 26,000 square kilometres

and is crowned by another volcano, Mount Etna.

The island is separated from the mainland by the Strait of Messina.

Edwardian travellers would have been in for a shock

because their train would be swallowed

into the belly of a large ferry.

The first thing they do is to remove our intercity locomotive.

'The ferry has operated here since 1899

'and is exclusively for trains.

'It can take up to 15 coaches, with the train being split in two.'

This is something you used to be able to see in many parts of the world,

including across the English Channel,

loading a train onto a ferry.

But now it's quite unusual and I'm delighted to see it.

ALARM WAILS

-Buongiorno.

-Buongiorno.

MICHAEL SPEAKS ITALIAN

He says, when the train comes off, it's even more of a great sight.

HE SPEAKS ITALIAN

He's going to allow me to push the button.

We are now closing the bow door.

You can see it coming down above me.

And I'm doing that, just by holding that little key in position.

It's quite alarming that we are actually sailing

while the bow door is still coming down.

And now we switch it all off and we're done.

We've set sail.

Complete with our safe cargo of a train divided in two.

'Messina was founded by Greeks in about 730 BC.

'In terms of grandeur, it rivalled Sicily's biggest city, Palermo.

'Having safely regained our tracks, normal surface is resumed.'

It's been a very short run from the ferry to the centre of Messina.

Here we are, Messina Centrale.

I wasn't expecting Messina to have such a contemporary, urban feel.

This modernity is a clue to what happened here

more than 100 years ago.

To discover more, I'm meeting historian, John Dickie.

-Hello, John.

-Nice to meet you, Michael.

Thank you. Um...

Bradshaw's describes Messina as, "a once-prosperous town,

"that, in the early morning of December 28th, 1908,

"was ruined by an earthquake, followed immediately by a tidal wave

"and later, by the outbreak of extensive fires.

"The population of 168,000,

"of whom 130,000 lost their lives."

It was absolutely apocalyptic.

Modern estimates reckon that perhaps 60,000 or 80,000 were killed,

but it's still perhaps the most lethal seismic event

in the Western world.

And presumably, the whole city was flattened?

Yeah, absolutely. 98% of the buildings

are estimated to have been destroyed.

Virtually everything you can see in Messina today

was rebuilt from scratch.

Including, therefore, this really delightful cathedral

and its marvellous bell tower, its campanile.

Absolutely, the cathedral had even been destroyed once before,

in the earthquake in 1783,

so it's been rebuilt twice.

What do we know about how the earthquake occurred?

It happened at 5:21. That's when the clock stopped.

Because of the time, most of the population was in bed

and therefore, that much more vulnerable.

And then, soon afterwards, there followed a tsunami,

so it really was all of the power of nature unleashed.

Now, of course, the island of Sicily

is literally cut off from the Italian mainland.

Presumably, that problem was exacerbated by the earthquake.

Yeah, it essentially tore a hole in the fabric of communications.

Telegraph, railway tunnels collapsed.

The first suspicion that something terrible had happened

was simply the complete absence of news from this part of the world,

and it was only when I think a torpedo boat made it down here

from northern Calabria,

that somebody was able to get on to land

and find out what had actually happened here.

Italy, one of the world's most earthquake-prone countries,

sits on top of a major weak point in the Earth's crust,

where tectonic friction can cause disaster.

There was talk after the earthquake of abandoning Messina entirely,

so badly was it damaged.

But they did rebuild it, often at a higher level than it had been before.

Perhaps two metres of ruins in various places lie below our feet

and the local people say also the bodies of many of the victims.

The Chiesa dei Catalani is an ancient medieval church

and one of the oldest buildings in the city. It withstood the quake.

I can see from its walls how the new city of Messina

stands a good two metres above the old.

How does the city remember the terrible earthquake of 1908?

Well, in terms of monuments and that kind of thing,

there really is very, very little.

Messina seems to have forgotten about the earthquake

or at least seems to not want to remember it in its physical fabric.

How do you account for that?

Well, apart from the huge number of people who were killed,

after the earthquake, many, many people emigrated,

a lot of them to the United States, and a new population was sucked in

to Messina from the countryside, from across the straits,

to work on the reconstruction

and many of them perhaps didn't have

a particularly strong identification with the city.

If you ask the people of Messina today,

many of them will say that the city has lost its memory,

that it has no memory,

and the earthquake is often cited as the reason for that.

And yet clearly when the Bradshaw's Guide was written,

it was still remembered as a cataclysmic event.

Absolutely - it had been on the front pages of newspapers

right around the world.

While Messina was flattened,

remarkably, about 50km along the coast,

the hilltop town of Taormina survived.

Taormina is arrestingly magnificent,

mixing a Greek temple and theatre,

Norman churches and Baroque palaces.

Its architecture, Mount Etna, the bays, beaches and the mild climate

attracted flocks of artists and writers in the 19th century.

-Buongiorno.

-Buongiorno.

Una granita di limone, per favore.

Grazie.

Taormina also captivated a genteel Englishwoman,

Florence Trevelyan,

who moved here in 1890 and married a man who later became mayor.

Ever since, the people of Taormina

have revelled in rumours about her,

whispering that a dalliance with the Prince of Wales

had caused her to flee Britain.

A well-used expression for the English in Italy

was "matti Inglesi", meaning "crazy English"

and Florence must have seemed slightly eccentric,

with the determination of her nationality and gender

creating a garden paradise.

Today, Constantino Castello, her distant relative,

lives in Florence's nearby home.

Lovely to see you, thank you.

Lovely house, Dino.

Tell me, who was Lady Florence Trevelyan?

Lady Florence Trevelyan was the wife of the uncle of my grandfather.

She came to Taormina after two years holidaying all the world.

People of Taormina, the older people, said,

but I don't know,

that she was obliged to leave England,

because she was very good friends with Prince Edward.

With nothing to tie her to England and both her parents dead,

Florence embraced the role of Taormina's first lady.

When Taormina was just a little city of fishermen,

just fishermen,

every king, every artist of Europe, of the Belle Epoque,

they came to Taormina at this time.

Although Florence died in 1907, the house still evokes her tenure.

She was three years old with the dogs.

This was in England.

-She was an animal lover, even as a child.

-Yeah.

-That's lovely.

-Is that her family album?

-Yeah.

-It begins with a picture of Queen Victoria.

-Yep.

And then we have a picture of Edward VII.

-And then we have a picture of Florence at 16 years old.

-Yep.

Her lasting legacy is the garden, which now belongs to the town

and is open to the public.

Down in the garden she had a meeting with King Edward...

HE SPEAKS ITALIAN

-1906.

-Yeah.

Florence died of pneumonia not long after, aged only 54.

So, Dino, this is really quite a moving story -

an English aristocratic lady, exiled in Taormina,

who leaves her mark on the city in the form of a lovely garden.

Exactly.

I can vouch that Taormina is inspirational.

I've been drawn back time and again,

perhaps to take my seat in the Greek theatre,

more than 2,000 years old,

to witness the love-and-death melodramas of opera,

which seem petty beneath Mount Etna,

massive and indifferent.

A century ago, the serious-minded British tourist

interested in antiquities, came to Italy,

which despite its recent unification,

seemed more like a collection of regions than a nation.

My Bradshaw's has brought me south past Vesuvius,

past the earthquake-devastated city of Messina and now to Taormina,

in the shadow of Mount Etna.

And I reflect that for all the achievements of human kind,

from the Greeks and Romans onwards,

we remain at the mercy of the powerful forces of nature.

Next time, I discover how not to do a polonaise...

Don't know what happened there.

and land my acting debut in Poland's respected film industry.

(This could be my big breakthrough.)