Monopoli, Italy lies 50km south of a town called Bari which itself is located in the southern half of Italy, at the start of the heel of Italy, if you will.   Bari lies on the Adriatic coast and it is not too far by boat to Albania and Croatia.  Perhaps, like me you have never heard of Bari but to the Russians and in particular the Russian Orthodox church, Bari is a holy place.  It is the resting place of St Nicola, known in the Coca Cola marketing department and millions of people around the world as Santa Claus.  Every year, tens of thousands of Russian pilgrims make the trip to Bari to pray to the remains of St Nicola.  His bones were rescued hundreds of years ago by Italian fishermen that sailed across the Adriatic and made their way to the country now known as Turkey.  It was feared that Muslims would destroy the bones of the patron saint as they had done with so many religious icons and relics of Christendom.

Monopoli, the 'only city', where the English word, monopoly takes its meaning has its own fair share of history and it is here that I will call home for several weeks while working on a project for an Italian company.  I can tell you that I live with my two work colleagues in a limestone house that is 200 years old within the fortressed walls of the 'old city'.  Canons made of black iron sit atop the length of the 6m thick wall that encircles the city.  The canons point seaward and  I sleep peacefully at night knowing I am well protected should any sea faring marauders consider pillaging the town.

At the end of my stone paved street, just round the corner, there is an inconspicuous brown wooden door that is recessed into one of the Cathedral walls (did I mention there are six churches and one cathedral within a 400m radius of our house).  The door is totally nondescript and indeed I have walked past it everyday on my way to work, on my way to Caffe Roma for my morning cappuccino and fresh croissant still warm from the bakers oven, on my way to the morning fruit and vegetable market in the local piazza and I have never given the door a second thought.  I'm not sure why, but on one such occasion as I walked past the door I noticed a small sign, no bigger than a sheet of A4 paper  And embedded in the Italian was the number and word '4000 anno' and the word 'crypta'.  Could it be that beyond this door there existed a burial place so old that Christ himself would have regarded it as ancient history.  I will tell you what I found in a later post.

 For now, I wanted to share with you an image of daily life in this small community.  Every morning (but not so early) the locals set up their stalls in the town square.  There are crates of mandarins, apples, eggplants of the most intense colour, green leafy vegetables and there is seafood, the 'frutti di mare', fruits of the sea plucked fresh that morning from the rich waters of the Adriatic.  There are stalls selling olives by the bucket and other stores that sell grains and cereal.  The men shout their specials and entice you with the offer of a plastic bag into which you can put their produce.  Old men stand in clusters, sometimes in the rain and cold.  They are talking about the threads that bind their lives together.  Epicurus, the Greek philosopher would have said they are engaging in one of the three elements that are fundamental to happiness - spending time with friends.

One man had a stall that was no more than 1m long and he sold only bunches of radishes.  He was no doubt the Radish Man.  His radishes were of good size, a deep red and firm to the touch.  He was proud of those radishes and he engaged with me for some minutes, trying his best to tempt me with his wares.  He held out the plastic bag to me, he implored me with his Italian and his body language but I resisted.  I had been thinking of what I could make with 5 radishes and the strawberry yoghurt that sat alone on my shelf in the house fridge.  And I confess, my imagination let me down and I successfully resisted the urge to buy these wonderful radishes.  I later regretted my decision, a decision based purely on practicality.  I should have bought the radishes, I know that it would have made Radish Man happy.  But it's not too late,  I will seek him out tomorrow... and maybe even buy two bunches of radishes.



Sometimes in life, you have to dig deep, you need to put in the extra effort to find that one mandarin that you know is right for you.

Never give up.