Other Parma sights: an old pharmacy and Cadfael

November 20, 2007 Tuesday

The Old Pharmacy in the Benedictine Abbey was built in the 900s and originally served the Abbey monks (think Cadfael here). Later, during Napoleon’s reign, the abbey was forced to either shut it down or open to the general public. At that time, an external door was opened onto the street. The pharmacy consisted of 5 rooms, of which 4 are open for visiting. The first room is the dispensing room, where various scales with standard counter-weights for drams and scruples are displayed. Here also is the original counter.

Off this are 3 other rooms: the poison room (not open to be viewed), the laboratory in which compounds were made and which has a water well fed by a spring that is still usable. The laboratory room contains displays of various glassware used in “cooking” and distilling medicines. The other two rooms were mainly used for storage of prepared medicines and the pharmacy library. Here you can view a variety of porcelain jars from the 1200s and 1400s, huge mortars with pestles used to grind ingredients and made of wood, iron, bronze, or marble, and quite a few ancient books on herbs and the compounding of various medicines. I found this all pretty interesting (a background in chemistry lends itself to such things, I suppose).

Later, I visited the Battistero or baptistery. It’s octagonal here, as it is in Florence. There are some interesting frescoes on the ceiling, but generally, not much to look at. The Duomo has only minimal lighting during visiting hours and today was overcast, so there wasn’t much sunlight coming in. It was hard to see much. You get the impression of the huge nave approaching the altar (where some of the only light could be found). You can pay to have lights turned on 3 specific areas of interest to art lovers (I paid, and saw some of the frescoes painted on the walls or ceiling). The Diocesan Museum contains archeological remains found while renovating the Duomo, some from Roman times.

There is a museum dedicated to the Constantine chivalric order as represented in Parma (e.g., the Knights of Malta and Knights of St. George). The museum is housed in the Chiesa di Santa Maria della Steccata. There are only guided tours and I got there for the last one of the day. Just me and the guide. The guide didn’t speak English, so I got the whole tour in Italian—okay, maybe I got 25% of what he said. Most of the guide’s explanations were about the history of the Knights in Parma and which duke did what, when, etc. The tour also included viewing the old sacristy used by the Prior of the order and the Grand Knight. The sacristy walls are completely covered by carved wood cabinets that store an immense treasure of chalices, reliquaries, vestments of silk embroidered with silver and gold thread, etc. The wood carving of these cabinets is astounding. The visit to the sacristy was worth the previous 50 minutes of rather uninteresting history.

Dinner at Il Cortile (Michelin rated, 2 forks). Nice dining room, but not a great place (it’s quite a hike from the hotel, and not worth it). Service was okay, not great. The first two half-bottles of wine I ordered they didn’t have (after going to look). The third, a nero d’avalo, at their suggestion was the fruitiest and sweetest I’ve ever had. I rarely send a wine back, but this was one. Finally they came up with a Chianti that hadn’t been on the menu. By this time, I’d already finished the antipasto of mixed hams and salami. So only the spaghetti with tomato and bacon sauce were left. To help finish off the wine, I also got a molten lava cake for dessert—the best part of the meal (and which I could well have done without).

First day in Parma

November 19, 2007 Monday

First impressions of Parma. It’s COLD! During the day, it’s not cold enough for your breath to frost, but the soft of chill that soaks to the bone. Damp. My leather jacket and wool sweater are barely sufficient. I bought a fleece hat to keep my head warm.

The music season was over in October, and it appears that there are no musical productions from the time I got here through January. A shame, as Parma is known for its music. There are a couple events that could be of interest: a solo piano concert of Schumann’s works and a review of Italian folk music (pizziche and tarantellas). The latter actually sounds interesting (and free at a jazz club?). Not much is open in the afternoons (museums, churches, shops, are all closed). The museums only seem to open in the morning (and don’t reopen after riposta).

Parma has several interesting sounding museums: one is an pharmacy that has been in the Benedictine monastery since the 900s (I’m thinking Cadfael here). Another is an old hospital that has been around since 1201. There is a museum of typography and font design (open only by appointment). Plus the usual art galleries and churches. It’s not a large city, but there’s enough to see.

Since most things were closed Monday afternoon, I decided to go to Modena to find out about Balsamic Vinegar (all true balsamic vinegar comes from Modena). Modena isn’t the sleep little town I expected. It’s fairly large (although Parma is bigger) and very nice. Like Parma, it, too, was the seat of Ducal power. Modena’s streets are wide and spacious with lots of open piazzas surrounded by shops and caffes. If it were warmer, it would be ideal. And, like Parma, much of its life centers around its culinary traditions. I’d almost rather be in Modena than Parma as my base in this area.

I stopped by the tourist office and asked if they knew of any tours of balsamic vinegar manufacturers. The staff person said she’d call to see if any were available, but that most of them were outside the city (you could take a bus). She finally found one that was within a 20 minute walk. She gave me the address and said that it was in a “casa” (which is “house”) and to press the bell for Barbieri Guiliani. Well, I found that a peculiar thing, since I expected to see a factory for making large volumes of balsamic vinegar. So starts the story:

L’Acetaia Marisa Barbieri Giuliani

After following the map to the designated address, I indeed find a “house”. Actually a 2 or 3 flat building in a very nice neighborhood with lots of fancy homes and buildings. It certainly wasn’t a factory. I pressed the button for “Barbieri Guiliani” and there was no answer. But shortly someone drove up and the gates opened. I asked if they knew the “Acetaia Barbieri Guiliani” and they took me up to the front door.

Mrs. Barbieri Guiliani came to the door and said, yes, she was expecting me. Please follow me up to the attic. Attic?!?!? She asks what I know about balsamic vinegar, and I tell her I buy it in the market and use it to cook lots of dishes, make salad dressing, etc. Apparently there is balsamic vinegar from Modena, and then there is balsamic vinegar from Modena TRADIZIONALE. The last word is VERY important. All balsamic vinegar from Modena Tradizionale are handmade in the attics of people’s homes and are therefore usually very small productions. They have created a consortium of producers that has obtained a Denominazione Origin P????, or D.O.P. Each producer, once a year, brings their vinegar to the convention of assembled registered tasters/judges. Some 1000 producers come each year. The master tasters rate each production pass/fail and give an analysis based on the D.O.P. criteria. Those that pass must bottle their entire production there and then in front of the judges and seal the bottles with the D.O.P. stamp. The bottles (shape and size) are specified by the D.O.P. (see picture). There are 2 grades in the D.O.P., >12 years old, and >25 years old.

The Acetaia Marisa Barbieri Guiliani has been around a while. Mrs. Barbieri Guiliani is the daughter of Marisa Barbieri and conducted the tours of her attic. The first item that was evident were barrels. Lots of barrels of various sizes. Mrs. Barbieri said the barrels are handed down from generation to generation. Some she still used were from the 1700s. The only large producers of tradizionale method balsamic started shortly after the D.O.P. was created in 1995, so their >12 year old vinegar is just coming on the market. These producers built large buildings out in the countryside with large attics and started with slightly old, but mostly new, barrels. The age of the barrels and their conditioning over years of use distinguishes the older producers’ balsamic from the newcomers’.

The true tradizionale balsamic is produced only using juice (must) from local grapes. The weather in Modena is key to the development of the vinegar (many have taken barrels from Modena and tried to make vinegar elsewhere and failed). Modena is extremely hot in the summer (over 115 degrees Fahrenheit) and humid. And this is the outside temperature, it is even hotter in the attics! During these hot summer months, the vinegar “cooks” and evaporates from the barrels. The winters are cold and foggy.

The barrels come in a series of graduated sizes. The grape juice (must) is cooked down to a fraction of its original volume and introduced into the barrels only once each year. Before the new reduced must is introduced, a liter or two (depends on size of the barrel) is taken from the barrel with the oldest vinegar. This is the production for the year from that series of barrels. Then the barrel with the oldest vinegar is filled from the barrel with the 2^nd oldest vinegar. And that is filled from the 3^rd oldest, etc., one barrel for each year of aging (e.g., 12 or 25). Then the new cooked must is used to fill the barrel with the youngest vinegar.

You can see from this that the oldest barrel is also the smallest since each year more water evaporates from the vinegar, so the volume that comes out is much less than the volume that starts. Also, some leaks from the barrels. In this way, every balsamic is a blend of vinegars from multiple years—not all of the oldest vinegar is removed from the last barrel, only part of it (not even half!). So the average age of the vinegar in the production is much more (probably at least 2 times) the 12 or 25 years on the label (which is only the minimum time allowed).

Acetaia Marisa Barbieri Guiliani has won many awards at the D.O.P. convention over the years and the “donna”, Marisa herself, is a master taster and on the panel of judges. So instead of visiting a factory, I visited an attic. And I was pleasantly surprised!

I had dinner at the Gallo d’Oro—the golden cock (no, don’t go there—this is the poultry kind). It’s almost next door to my hotel. And the recommendation came from the cab driver, who, as we all know, are gourmands par excellence! The Gallo d’Oro is also listed in Michelin with 1 fork, so it was a pretty good recommendation.

Anyway, the choices were the Gallo d’Oro, or an osteria one street over (2 forks in Michelin). The osteria specialized in various ways to fix horse. Yes, here in Parma, horse (cavallo) is a delicacy. One of these days, I might get over my provincial objections, but not tonight.

The Gallo d’Oro does serve “Pesto di Cavallo” (or minced horse meat), but at least there were lots of other things. Instead of horse, I had an appetizer of Parma ham with Parmesan cheese (THE standard antipasto here). It came with “torta fritta”. Literally, this means “fried cake”, but it was more like a fritter that puffed up when deep fried so it was hollow inside. Served still hot from the kitchen, you take some of the torta fritta and wrap up some ham and cheese in it and munch—delicious!

The primo piatto was “tortellini misti” or mixed tortellini, of 3 kinds. Tortellini is another one of those items that seems to appear on every menu in town. In Parma, tortellini aren’t what I call tortellini, but rather what look to me like ravioli—square bits of pasta with stuff sandwiched inside. In this case, the “stuff” was either Parmegiana style (ricotta and spinach), or pork shoulder (also with some cheese), and zucca (or pumpkin) with a bit of anise or fennel (not sure which, but might make a good risotto, too). All were very good. All washed down with a ½ bottle of Sangiovese di Romagna (Cenegio by fattoria Zerbina). After all that, I couldn’t possibly have had dessert. But I did try an espresso—let’s see if this ruins my sleep. [N.B., It didn’t.]

Closing thoughts on Genova and the apartment

November 16, 2007 Friday

Heading into the last few days I’m here in Genova, I thought I’d summarize some of my thoughts on living in the city and in an (the) apartment. First, on Genova:

Genova is a very introverted city. The people are focused on friends and family and stay at home much of the time (resulting in a lower incidence of what I’ll call “Café Society”). Those walking in the street are often in groups, or at least couples. Greetings on the street are frequent and warm. It takes a while to find the shops you like (since there are many of the same type, each small and specialized). Once found, however, the shopkeeper remembers you—the barista who knows you like caffe doppio, the butcher who knows you only buy in small quantities, the grocer who knows you favor clemintines, each has a “Salve!” for you on entry. But Genova doesn’t easily give up her secrets. It takes a while to find the caffe where the brioche vuota (“empty” croissants without filling) don’t have extra sugar sprinkled on them and also has good coffee. Genova holds them close, but not impossibly close. Listen, watch, wait, observe, and gradually over days and weeks, the city slowly reveals its rich and welcoming side. Hesitant and shy, Genova is not a tourist city—tourists don’t have enough time to invest to get to know it. Approach Genova with brashness and all you get is a cooperative, but cold, front. Patience. The warmth is there, but it comes only with familiarity.

Downsides to Genova: Everyone seems to have a dog, and the dogs leave foot bombs everywhere. Some pick up after their animals, but some don’t. You have to watch where you’re stepping! The Medieval historical center is cool in that it reveals the narrow vicoli and small piazzas that have survived until today. Unfortunately, these same narrow vicoli and piazzas have 3-4 story buildings on all sides that prevent the sun from getting to them, so they’re dark most of the time. Not conducive to sitting on the piazza and having a coffee or drink. The restaurants are generally pretty mediocre (probably an artifact that Genova society dines at home or at friend’s homes, not at restaurants—and as pointed out previously, Genova is not a tourist city). The people generally have a pretty dour attitude toward life—the rest of Italy calls Genova, “the stingy”. Perhaps they’re right. And lastly, Genova is a vertical city—there are stairs everywhere you turn.

Upsides to Genova: The people are friendly and are very proud of their city—praise any aspect of it and the burst with pride. Genova is a very walkable city (assuming you can navigate lots of stairs). The Oriental Market on Via XX Septembre is a great place to shop for dinner—everything you need under one roof. Via Luccoli is a very interesting and shoppable street (let’s throw in the via Campetto, too). You can reach most of the Italian Riviera from Genova on a day trip: Cinque Terre, Portofino, Santa Margherita Ligure. The harbor area is very nice—and one of the few areas where shops are open on Sunday!

Apartment Peculiarities: I’ve mentioned the mezzanine floor in the apartment, allowing it to be a two-story affair with living room and bedroom upstairs. The owner has also bought the apartment above mine and she intends to raise the floor of that one (ceiling of mine) 40 cm so there is decent headroom on the mezzanine floor of my apartment. [Don’t ask me how she can get away with doing that sort of thing. In the US, the neighbors would be howling about the building’s structural integrity.] The apartment is pretty quaint, thinking about the original floor on the lower level—it’s brick laid in a crossing diagonal pattern. Although it sags noticeably, it’s still cool to know it was put down in the 1600s. The lock on the exterior door is massive and employs not only 5 deadbolts in tandem (each 1 cm in diameter), but also sets a vertical rod into the ceiling and floor. I wonder what has happened in the past to make that level of security a necessity (even my New York apartment’s lock wasn’t that hefty, but I’ve seen the same arrangement in other parts of Italy). The door itself is steel with a decorative and deeply carved wood panel on the outside. There are closets for utility items (iron, ironing board, vacuum, etc.) and clothes in the lower level bedroom. Apparently, closets are a rare thing in these old buildings and only appear in modern renovations. Both closets are partial height affairs because they are under the stairs going up to the mezzanine level. Many of the fixtures are IKEA and the interior doors and hardware are 2nd hand. Okay, so as the Italian sentiment has it: the Genovese are cheap.

Itinerary for rest of trip

November 15, 2007 Thursday

One more day of Italian classes and only 3 more days in Genova. Time’s ticking.

The plan for my remaining 3 weeks in Italy is:

Going to	Dates	Side trips
Parma	11/18 to 11/23	Modena, Reggio, Bologna
Florence	11/23 to 11/26	Siena and San Gimignano
Sorrento	11/26 to 11/29	Pompei, Vesuvius, Amalfi coast towns
Capri	11/29 to 12/1
Sorrento	12/1 to 12/4	Pompei, Vesuvius, Amalfi coast towns
Rome	12/4 12/7
San Francisco	12/7

The hotel I'm staying at in Parma is the Hotel Button, +39 0521 208039, Borgo della Salina, 7, Parma, Italia. The hotel in Florence is the Hotel della Signora, +39 055 21 45 30, via della Terma, 1, 50123 Firenze, Italia. The hotel in Capri is Hotel Canasta, +39 081 8370561, Via Campo di Teste 6 - 80073 Capri, canasta@capri.it, www.hotel-canasta.com. The hotel in Rome is the Hotel Diocleziano, Via Gaeta 71, 00185 Rome, Italy, Tel. +39.06.48900767, info@hoteldiocleziano.it.

I haven't made reservations for Sorrento yet. I'll be at the same hotel in Sorrento the 2^nd stay (I hope to leave my big bag there while I go over to Capri so I don't have to lug it on the ferry). It's going to be hard enough fighting the bags with four location changes without adding a fifth.

Palazzo Spinola and Quasimodo

November 14, 2007 Wednesday

I visited the Palazzo Spinola today. Genova was ruled by 4-5 main families over the past few centuries. In the 17^th-18^th century, or thereabouts, they all built large homes for themselves in the parts of Genova they controlled. The Spinola family was one of these (the Doria family, as in Andrea Doria, was another). The Spinola palazzo has several rooms that have been kept more or less as they were, and also displays the family’s collection of porcelain, furniture, and some clothing.

Several people have told me: “Devi visitare Palazzo Spinola!” Perche? “Che bello!”. You must visit the Palazzo Spinola! Why? It’s beautiful!

So I go. It’s only a 1-2 minute walk from my apartment. It could hardly be closer. The standard entry hall, with a 4 euro fee, is the first thing you see. You must put your backpack in the guardarobe. The attendant helps me put it in #11. Can I take pictures? Yes, but without flash. So I pull my camera out of the backpack before locking it.

Can I go up now? Yes, someone who is a double for Quasimodo has appeared and grunts with a nod of his head toward the (ever present) stairs upward. Upward! Stretch winter wool hat pulled down over his ears, long fingernails, old sports coat over a winter sweater, non-descript trousers and even more non-descript shoes, Quasimodo leads upward! No language beyond gestures and primitive noises, Quasi (as I’ve come to think of him) indicates the 1^st floor.

The first floor shows off some of the public rooms. I’m the only person viewing the Palazzo at this time and there are no guards in the rooms; Quasi is my watchdog. The first room is faded beauty. This is a reception room with very high ceilings edged with fanciful moldings and gilt and painted with frescoes. A rug covered the floor with an elaborate table in the center. You could almost see the family head welcoming the gentry in this room. Quasi lurks about waiting for me to proceed and sneaking surreptious glances to see if I’m doing anything I shouldn’t. I snap a picture. Suddenly Quasi moves and speaks: “Niente fotografia!” No photography! I wonder who’s right the attendant downstairs, or Quasi? Oh well, I’m not going to argue with Quasi about it.

Quasi is back to lurking. His presence encourages haste—he obviously wants to resume the occupation of his chair in the entry hall. I ignore this and leisurely view the various rooms on the first level. He lurks and often emits guttural noises—hurry along, he seems to say. I want to sit. Hasten!

The second floor contains more public rooms: a ball room, dining rooms, etc., and the kitchen, which seems to have survived intact with great marble basins with sloping cutting areas for butchering and cleaning food.

Above the second floor, there has been renovation. The rooms are modern and structured to display books, art and porcelain and historic clothing. On the fifth floor (or so, I lost count), there is a spiral staircase leading up, which I take, even though Quasi doesn’t suggest it. As I start to climb, Quasi lurches over to a desk to get something. At the top of the stairs, automatic doors slide aside, revealing a locked iron gate. Ah, Quasi unlocks the door and opens the gate, glaring at me for inconveniencing him. The gate opens on a medium sized rooftop garden with a marble fountain on the other end, now off. It’s cold, but I stay to inspect the fountain and some of the trees growing there. Mostly to aggravate Quasi. Why not? I paid the entry fee, I want to see it all.

Finally I go back in and Quasi locks the gate. Meanwhile I’ve gone down the spiral stairs and have started down the interior stairs. Quasi grunts and I look up to see him at the top of the stairs, pointing a different way. Have I missed something? No, we go down the elevator (why down and not up?).

Finally Quasi is at home in his familiar chair. I retrieve my backpack and step into the lowering night to leave Palazzo Spinola to Quasi and his stationary habits. Che brutto!

Genova's only Michelin 1 star restaurant

November 13, 2007 Tuesday

Tonight, I decided to splurge. Dinner is at the Ristorante La della Pergola, the only restaurant in Genova with any Michelin stars (and it's a one star place).

I wander in (meaning I take a taxi) and after getting there find out that it's right around the corner from where I dropped off my Hertz rent-a-car 3 weeks ago, when I arrived from Alba and Piemonte. The neighborhood has 3 of the top-rated restaurants in Genova, so I figured the neighborhood must be upscale. It isn't as sumptuous as I'd thought it might be. But there's the restaurant. I look around for the menu, but none is posted. So I try to go in. Hmmm. The door is locked and you have to ring to get in (I didn't think the neighborhood looked THAT dangerous--in fact, not dangerous at all considering I live in the centro storico! Hey there aren't any prostitutes hanging around!).

So I go in and ask to see the menu. The prix fixe menu consists of 6 entrees (starters) and a dessert. Most of these are various forms a raw fish and/or crustaceans. I detest raw fish (I made an exception once for cerviche in Peru, and while it was quite good, I'll not make that exception for a while!). So I ordered a la carte. They did send in an amuse bouche of toast with some seafood pate and a ball of fried something in a sort-of tomato sauce. Both were decent, but not great (the toast was a bit stale, truth be known).

Okay. True confessions time. When I go to a Michelin One-Star restaurant, I'm measuring against what I get in Paris at a Michelin One-Star restaurant. I’m convinced that those rated outside France, get almost a full star-mark off the full measure (that is, a 3 star rating in Italy would only be a 2 star rating in France). Still, if they're going to serve crustacean pate on toast, the toast should be fresh toast--crispy and to the point, not several hours old and nearly soggy from absorbed humidity. In a Parisian One-Star the toast would still be warm when served.

And the poor waiter. When I first went in, he said the restaurant was "Completo" (full). The Maitre-d'Hotel came by as I was leaving and said, "No, C'e' un tavolo per uno. Prego." I was in (maybe it helped that I'd dressed up in my best suit and silk tie). Unfortunately, the waiter was expected to serve 5 tables. One table had 1 person, me. One had 6 people. Another had 5 people. And another had at least 20 people. The guy had his hands full (and overfull). Service was definitely not Michelin One-Star service (even discounting the out-of-France factor). No wonder he said the restaurant was full—his plate certainly was!

I ordered a gamberi con fagioli primo. Good, but not great. The main course was pesce a la St. Pietro con caperi. Also good, not great. I had a 1/2 bottle of a local white wine (not expensive) that was pretty good with those courses. These courses were not very big (or satisfying), so I ordered a steak for a 3rd course. I'd finished the 1/2 bottle of white by then, and I'd noticed a 1999 1/2 bottle of Gaja Barbaresco for an extremely good price. So I ordered that with the steak (actually at this point, I was more interested in the Gaja Barbaresco than I was the steak!). Alas! The waiter returned saying that they were out of the Gaja Barbaresco mezzo. I could have cried (a Gaja Barbaresco is heartbreakingly good. A full bottle of 1999 Barbaresco costs over 250 euro at the wine shops and the half bottle was listed at 50 euro--I was hoping for wine nirvana and was dashed). Needless to say, I whined, saying how disappointed I was that I couldn't have a 1999 Gaja Barbaresco with my steak. Whining is good, especially in a Michelin starred restaurant that has disappointed and that wants to keep it's star. The waiter offered another Gaja (a 2006 blend of nebbiolo and barbaresco) by the glass. While not nearly as scrumptious as the 1999, any Gaja is heads-and-shoulders above the rest. He opened the bottle and left it at the table. I didn't ask the price of the glasses (and had 2-1/2 glasses of the blend). They only charged me 16 euro for the 2-1/2 glasses--a great bargain (but I yearn for the 1/2 bottle of Barbaresco)!

Still the food part of the bill was, well, overpriced. The total was 96 euro, all said and done. A very nice dinner (counting the Gaja for the "very" part). Plus 11 euro each way in the taxi. Oh well, one fling in Genova. Can't wait for Parma!

The Oriental Market

November 12, 2007 Monday

A classmate took us to the Oriental Market here in Genova. Finally! A real market, not a little shop that may or may not have what you’re looking for (and even then it may or may not be fresh). It’s in a large building with lots of vendors displaying their wares. There must be 10 butchers, 15 vegetable sellers, a couple spice vendors, nuts, bakeries, pastry shops… Eveything you need for dinner all in one place and with choices! And fresh! (See the pictures).

Portofino (again) and Genova Museums

November 10-11, 2007 Saturday/Sunday

I decided to go back to Portofino today since I didn’t really get a chance to see it last time. So I took the train to Santa Margherita and looked for the boat. Sorry, no boats today. The bus goes to Portofino—right over there. So it did. So I did. I watched on the way over. You’re supposed to be able to walk the 3 miles from Portofino to Santa Margherita, but about halfway between the two, the sidewalk/path from S. Margherita stops and you have to walk in the road, which is just a tad narrow. In some places, especially around tight bends, the bus honked its horn to warn on coming traffic we were coming through. And I saw several walkers jumping out of the way of cars on the road.

Portofino isn’t much bigger than what I saw from the docks last time. There are the colorful houses right along the coast and the villas up in the hills. There are a few more houses further back, but not a lot. Via Roma links the main square, where the bus stops, to the water. There are several restaurants/pizzerias along via Roma. I had a great pizza at one of these with a woodburning oven. Good stuff!

After lunch I wandered about some more, but shortly took the bus back toward S. Margherita. At the point where the sidewalk/path started, I got off and walked the rest of the way. I investigated a castle-like building I’d seen on the way out. It turns out that it’s an old fortification, but has been turned into a disco. It sits on a spit of land sticking out into the Mediterranean. The views must be fabulous at night with all the lights of the towns along the coast strung out in view.

I stopped at Seghezzo Fratelli’s for some bread and dinner fixings (by the time I get back the markets in Genova may be closed).

On Sunday, I visited the “must see” museums on the “new street” or Strada Nuova (more commonly known as Via Garibaldi). The Strada Nuova was envisioned as a statement of the wealth and influence of Genova’s merchant families and the city’s power. It was the first wide street (and it’s not all that wide, although compared to the vicoli I’ve described, it’s a veritable boulevard). The frontages along the Strada Nuova were designed by Veronese (the famous painter/architect). These 3 museums were, at one time, the homes of 3 of the city’s main merchantile families. The White Museum (Galleria di Palazzo Biancho and originally home to the Grimaldi family) contains collections of Flemish and Genovese paintings. The Red Museum (Galleria di Palazzo Rosso and originally home to the Brignole-Sale family) contains Baroque frescoes and works by Reni, Guercino, Van Dyck, and Durer. The Palazzo Tursi (originally home to the Doria family) contains Paganini’s violins (both the Guarneri and the Vuillaume), and tapestries, furniture, coins, and ceramics from the Republic of Genova.

These museums are interesting depending on your interests. If you’re a coin collector, the Palazzo Tursi is a must see. At the top of the Palazzo Rosso (6^th floor), there is a viewing platform that gives a marvelous view over Genova. As far as the paintings go, you won’t find anything that’s really fine (or anything you might expect to see in the Louvre, the Met, the Chicago Art Institute, or the Prado). For the most part the art and sculpture is almost all religious. My naïve impression was: lots of Madonnas with and without child, lots of St. John the Baptists with and without head, and lots of St. Francis with and without stigmata (better go and do a google define on that one! I’m really showing my Catholic upbringing here).

Visiting Camogli, San Fruttuoso, Portofino, and Santa Margherita

November 3, 2007 Saturday

Today the agenda includes Camogli, San Fruttuoso (and its abbey), Portofino, and Santa Margherita. I got a late start due to the late night before at the symphony. Slept in and didn’t get to the train station until after noon. This was to be a mistake.

On the trip to the Cinque Terre, I met a couple from Canada who were staying with a local Genvese family (he grew up here). One of the family laid out quite an itinerary for them, among the various trips was a visit to the Portofino peninsula. I copied it down: train from Genova to Camogli, boat to San Fruttuoso, boat to Portofino, boat (or walk) to Santa Margherita. Based on this sketch, I looked up the train schedule to Camogli and from Santa Margherita. Not a problem—service every 30-60 minutes until about 11pm.

Leaving Genova at 12:30 or so, I decided it would be best to wait until I got to Camogli to have lunch. Good decision. Camogli is a beach town. Camogli is named for the wives of sailors (Camogli is a derivative of the Italian word for “wife”) who waited patiently for the return of their husbands from their long sea voyages. Life centers around the boardwalk, which is very long and quite varied. See the photo album.

For those with a prurient interest in beach scenes, if you look closely at the bottom right in one of the pictures, you will see a topless woman with her children. Finding said woman is left as an exercise for the interested reader.

It was nearly 2pm when I finally got to Camogli and the strand-side array of restaurants, caffes, gelateria, etc. But finally I did find a table (see photos). The best part of the experience was the waiter, but that’s another story (or rather, I wish it were another story :-). Anyway, after a leisurely meal, I found the ferry quai and took off to San Fruttuoso.

San Fruttuoso is an exceedingly small place. It is accessible only by boat and by foot. The guidebook says that there is a way to walk to Portofino in 75 minutes. Look at the pictures. The only way out of San Fruttuoso is to climb vertically for longer than I care to contemplate. Maybe thereafter it’s downhill, and maybe it isn’t. I was NOT going to find out.

There is an abbey in San Fruttuoso and not much else. The abbey was quite interesting and was built by the Doria family (you know the ship Andrea Doria? Well that was the name of an admiral who was head of the Doria family with a large palazzo in Genova). Most of them seem to be buried in San Fruttuoso (they built the abbey, so I guess there were a few perqs that came with). I took pictures of some of the explanatory signs along with others of the abbey, so you can follow along (with judicious use of the magnify button). There is one ferry line from Camogli to San Fruttuoso and another to Portofino. There’s about an hour between arrivals and departure, which is just about right to see the abbey and continue on (unless you want to go up into the tower, which might take a bit longer, but which I skipped—having had my fair share of stairs already).

Portofino is mentioned in all the books as the picturesque place to be and be seen. Movie stars and jet setters, colorful houses, etc. The rail line doesn’t go into Portofino—you can get there by boat or by car. It is picturesque. My usual practice when I arrive at a place is to look up the departure schedule, which was fortunate or unfortunate. It turns out that I arrived at 4:50pm and the last boat out was at 5:00pm, leaving no time to see Portofino. In retrospect, I should have ignored the boat schedule. It’s only 3 miles from Portofino to Santa Margherita and I could have taken a taxi or bus. But when you arrive and see the last boat out is in 10 minutes, panic processes only the one possibility.

So after taking only a few pictures from the harbor, I was on to Santa Margherita. I’ll go back before I leave. If I go directly to Santa Margherita and then to Portofino, I can go in an afternoon.

Santa Margherita is a substantial town and I took to it immediately. In one block on two streets I saw more high quality food stores and wine shops that have seen in all of Genova. This is my kind of town. I even found Pear’s soap in one of the markets. Okay, the market was more like Belucci’s in New York, or a Draeger’s in California, but I have not seen Pear’s soap ANYWHERE else in Italy and I HAVE LOOKED (if there’s one thing I like to have from home when I travel is good glycerine-based soap—and Pear’s is it).

I hung around and meandered the streets until it was respectable hour for dinner. Having asked some locals if there was a good trattoria around, and winnowing the suggestions, I ended up at a place called Ristorante Michele. Ristorante Michele is not listed in the Red Guide (here’s another indication that the place is for me: for a smaller city, Santa Margherita has 11 hotels and 7 restaurants listed in the Michelin guide—Genova has 13 and 19, respectively). But at least it was best food I’ve had in Liguria (the region in which the province of Genova--and Genova, it's capital, resides. On the down side, there are bunches and boatloads of real estate agents and (what looks like) a reasonable apartment in Santa Margherita costs almost as much as one in Palo Alto.

After dinner and back on the train to Genova. On the train I met a businessman from Sorrento south of Naples. He was going to Genova Piazza Principe (the same station as I was) was we were both trying to figure out what station we were at each time the train stopped (they don’t bother to announce them on the train and the signs are not always easy to find). We talk about politics (what most Italians seem to want to talk about when they discover you are American). Then we talk about Italy. He waxes poetic about the beauty of the Amalfi coast and Sorrento in particular. The Ligurian coast is certainly beautiful—Camogli, San Fruttuoso, Portofino, Santa Margherita, the Cinque Terre. Maybe I should to south to Amalfi? I don’t know yet what the last 3 weeks of my stay in Italy will bring. But I should decide soon!

Second week of Italian classes and the Genova Symphony

October 29-November 2, 2007 Monday-Friday

The second week of Italian classes have come and gone. We’ve mostly worked on vocabulary. Nothing spectacular. On Friday we worked on food vocabulary (vegetables, fruits, herbs, etc.), and we all went out for lunch to a local hole-in-the-wall trattoria, Maria’s, which is well known locally and was written up in the New York Times.

This brings me to note the relative lack of what I’d call really good restaurants in Genova. Believe me, I’ve tried to find some. The Michelin Red Guide. Local hints and suggestions. All have resulted in what I’d consider decent, passable fare, but nothing that stands out, nothing that made me want to return. At least Maria’s was only 9 euros ($13). Many of the restaurants run 30-40 euros ($45-60), which is too much for “okay” food, especially considering that the wine part is minimal (Italian wine is really inexpensive—you can get 250ml, which is about 2 glasses, for $6-$8). I can’t say I’ve been overwhelmed by the food since I’ve gotten to Italy. Perhaps it’s the regional cuisine that isn’t piquing my fancy. Ligurian food (Genova and its surrounds) is generally based on pastas or gnocchi with pesto (particularly a small twisted pasta called trofie—take a 4 inch long piece of pasta dough rolled into a thin string, fold it back on itself and twist a few times), and seafood (typically of the crustacean or octopus sort). I swear this is the first time I’ve seen octopus carpaccio (raw octopus, sliced thin) and I’d rather not think about it!

It’s easy to come up with food just as good at home using dried pasta and bottled sauces.

On Friday, I booked a ticket for the Genova Symphony. The concert was supposed to start at 8:30pm, but was delayed due to “technical difficulties” until almost 9:00pm. They played a program of Haydn and Strauss. Haydn comprised the first part, Symphony 96 in D maj and Kleine Organmesse #7 with Ricarda Merbeth singing contralto in the Benedicte. Strauss comprised the second part, Vier Lezte Lieder W296 and “Tod und Verklaerung” (op. 24). This was actually a treat. The orchestra is very good and the pieces allowed for several of the principals to play solos, particularly violin, flute, oboe, and horn.

Genova Opera

October 28, 2007 Sunday

I went to the opera to hear Verdi's I Vespri Siciliani. Quite the production. The stage set was pretty heavy handed. No subtlety there--the French and taken over Sicily and, while the governor is not a bad guy, he does rule with a heavy hand. The stage setting has an enormous clenched fist hanging down from above, and I mean enormous. It must be 30 feet tall and 20 wide, sculpted in 3D. It looks like something out of a Soviet era poster, but hanging down in an overture of oppression instead of raised in defiance. The protagonist is a duchess (coloratura soprano with a beautiful voice and not a bad figure named Sondra Radvanovsky) who is in love with a leader of the Sicilian resistance. This lead, a tenor of course, must have been no more than 5 feet tall and 5 feet around—not someone who would inspire resistance, let alone a love interest! But a huge tenor voice. It was almost comical to see them sing love duets--she was head and shoulders above him and couldn't get close enough to try to hug him. Even the young Italian couple sitting next to me (with whom I struck up a conversation) were amused.

Overall a good production, but the staging and choreography was very weak. The production lasted 4 hours.

This being Sunday, there are very few restaurants open, so it’s cook at home time.

Visiting the Cinque Terre

October 27, 2007 Saturday

It had been raining off and on for most of the past 3-4 days. Saturday was supposed to be partly cloudy and Sunday was supposed to be sunny and warm. As usual, the meteorologists were wrong. Saturday was beautiful—sunny, warm, and only slightly breezy. Today a classmate and I were to go to the Cinque Terre.

The Cinque Terre (Five Lands), are five fishing villages poised on rocky slopes over the Mediterranean (www.my-cinque-terre.com). For centuries, they were interconnected by hiking paths and boats (they have been growing wine grapes, olives, lemons, and other produce since time immemorial). And the only way into or out of them was by boat until 1870 when the first rail line connected Vernazza with Rome and Torino (thereafter the other villages were slowly connected to the rail line). Much later, the towns were slowly connected to the modern road system, although the road that connects the towns meanders through the hills, following contours, rather than boring through tunnels as the trains do.

In the past decade or so, the Cinque Terre have been designated an Italian National Park and a UNESCO Heritage site. This provides some protection from development and discourages the more egregious activities that frequent tourist areas (like lots of advertising, etc.).

The names of the 5 villages are (from south to north): Riomaggiore, Manarola, Corniglia, Vernazza, Monterosso al Mare. Vidir, my classmate, and I took the train from Genova to Riomaggiore and walked to Vernazze. The entire hiking path interconnecting the 5 villages is 12 miles long. The path from Riomaggiore to Manarola is called the Via dell’Amore, or Path of Love (built in 1920s). This is an easy walk of about 30 minutes, well-paved and level. It makes an easy warm-up for later. Riomaggiore is where the National Park station is located for the Cinque Terre and has two rows of houses and lots of seafood restaurants. The Via dell’Amore is right on the coast and has wonderful views of the villages at both ends and the Mediterranean (see the picture album). Manarola is a bit larger than Riomaggiore, but not by much. We continued the walk.

Once you’re north of Manarola and off the Via dell’Amore, the path gets a bit more rugged. The paving stops in favor of beaten dirt with rocks reinforcing the edges. It also begins to rise, with rock-edged steps of uneven height and depth making the effort more of hike or trek than a walk. You definitely don’t want to do this in dress shoes—you need at least tennis shoes here (preferably waterproof if it’s rained recently, which it had). This section of the path also begins the area where you see some of the famous terraces. These terraces are supported by stone walls, muretti, of about 4-5 feet in height. These muretti have been built over the past 1000 years. The stones were carried by hand up the slopes to buttress the terraces to keep the soil from washing away. Some of the grape vines and olive trees on these terraces could only be harvested by lowering men on ropes (these days, modern technology has solved the problem—they use miniature railroad engines and cars to get to these remote terraces). It’s commonly said that if you put all the muretti end-to-end, their length would exceed that of the Great Wall of China.

Anyway, it’s an impressive sight to see all these terraces following the contours and covered with vines and trees (see photo album). And the sights from the high trail are magnificent.

This leg of the hike, from Manarola to Corniglia, is a bit strenuous and took about an hour. If you can make it up 4 flights of stairs a couple times a day, this leg is not hard (not easy, either). Especially the end. Just when you think you’ve climbed all the stairs to Corniglia, you are faced with a switchback of stairs. 382 of them to be exact, at least that’s what the sign says when you get to the top. But what a view!

This is where most people should stop hiking and take the train to the next village. The hike onto Vernazza is strenuous and takes a couple hours, unless you’re in reasonable shape (I’m not and I was huffing and puffing and just putting one foot in front of the other a good part of the way). The trail goes way up and way down and the trail is very rugged (although the changes in height are not sudden, there are a lot of rustic “stairs”, and a lot of unevenness in the trail, even on the relatively level sections. In places the trail is very narrow with no railing between you and a drop of a few hundred feet down a rocky slope. The stairs, if such you call them, are very rough with lots of rocks placed unevenly to keep the trail from eroding. You really should be wearing hiking boots for this section, not tennis shoes.

At one point during the hike on this section, there was a sign “Free Beach” and pointing to a path that was a vertical 500 feet down to the beach. I can only think (hope!) that the sign was a joke (but there was a path that was not overgrown, so someone—or something—must use it)! Another one on the other side of the point added a scrawled: "Nude Swede" to the sign (of course, there was no indication of the gender or age of the Swede). At this point, after huffing and puffing for quite a while, some nutso all dressed up in lycra went running past at full tilt and down some treacherous steps (I found myself wishing he mis-stepped and pitched headlong over the cliff!).

But the worst part of this section is not the effort it takes to climb it. It’s that most of the time there are trees and other vegetation blocking your view on one side and the hill on the other, so there’s little to see most of the time. Not that you have much chance to look anyway, since you have to watch how you place your feet to keep from turning an ankle or stepping into mud. But when the view is there, it is fantastic! Now whether those 2 places where there is a view are worth the 2 hours of strenuous hiking? I think not. But there are those who think otherwise.

Once at Vernazza, the 4^th village, I refused to continue on to the 5th village, which is supposed to be the hardest hike of all. Besides, it was already late in the day by the time we got to Vernazza—we wouldn't have made Monterosso al Mare before sundown. So we got some dinner at a local pizzeria and took the train back to Genova. I was exhausted, but got lots of great photos. It was a good day!

Genova and My first week of classes

October 22-26, 2007 Monday through Friday

My first week of school. Class starts at 10am and ends at 1:30pm (with a 20 minute break from 11:40 to 12:00). There are 3 people in class: Liz from Atlanta, Vidir Sigurdsson from Reykjavik, Iceland, and me. The teacher name is Nazarena, a very stylish, young Italian woman living in Genova. She’s studying French and English.

Liz started classes a week ago, so she’s gone over the material in the first week once already. I’ve picked up some Italian over the years, and had 10 2-hour classes last October near home. Vidir has no Italian at all—zip. He speaks pretty good English, but he’s at a disadvantage since all the explanations are given in English, but he has to make sense out of them in Icelandic. Apparently Icelandic is very close to old Norse (the language the Vikings used). Anyway, he’s struggling.

The first week covered about the same material as the 10 classes I took last October (which I’d mostly forgotten). This included the conjugations for present tense for the verbs “to be” (essere), “to have” (avere), and the regular verb conjugations (of which Italian has 4 ending in –are, -ere, and -ire with 2 variations).

Life in Genova. At first, I was disappointed with Genova, but now, it’s growing on me. The apartment I’m in is in the “centro storico” or historic center of Genova. Genova has the largest medieval city center in Europe. The “streets” I walk between apartment and school have been here since the 13^th century. I say “streets” because many of them are only about 5-6 feet wide and are more alleys than streets. Here they are called “vicoli” (or “vicolo” for one). No cars are allowed in the centro storico during the day and only some vicoli can accommodate cars, even at night. The harbor is about 200 yards away from my front door (although I can’t see it from my apartment or the front door).

This all has certain ramifications. If there are no cars (or trucks) allowed, or even possible in a lot of cases, then what? How do they pick up garbage? Well, it turns out that everyone has to carry their garbage to pick-up points either on the edge of the historic center, or on one of the few wider vicoli that can accommodate a specially constructed narrow garbage truck.

In medieval times, the areas around the port or harbor were not the nicest areas in a town (and often were the worst). This still applies in Genova. There are no more warehouses or bars with drunken sailors. But the historic center is still populated with prostitutes and druggers.

One vicolo, which is one of the main routes I use, has LOTS of ladies working the street. Some of them are quite old (60+). The story is that they have had the same clients for decades, which is how they survive. And there's drugs. I was out with some people from school at a nearby bar and we stopped at an intersection to get our bearings before we headed off in different directions. I noticed a couple of boys snorting coke over to one side--I guess we interrupted them 'cause they took off after they finished their "line".

But "everyone" says "it's not dangerous", meaning you might get pickpocketed, but you won't get physically hurt in the process. And if they recognize you as a "local" you're probably safe from pickpockets. Hopefully by now, they recognize me. It's impossible to go anywhere (without going a LONG way around and WAY up the hill) and avoid the area with the prostitutes and "scary" looking crowd, so you just go through, look like you have a purpose, and make eye contact without looking scared (or like you’re "looking" for something). My usual rule to figure out how safe an area is: watch the little old ladies. If they clutch their purses tightly, then you better watch your pockets. If not, then things are okay. If the little old ladies don't even come out at night, then beware! I haven't seen any little old ladies out after the shops close. Hmmm.

At first I was very disappointed in Genova. And not just because the old city center that I thought was going to be cool turned out to be rather unpleasant. Genova is known to have hundreds of piazzas. The historic center is loaded with them. But they’re almost all tiny little things that have 4-5 story buildings on all sides—so there’s little sun except right at mid-day. Many of them are less than 20 feet on a side. But I’ve discovered other parts of Genova than the historic center. Outside the historic center there are piazzas that are worthy of the name, with caffes and a reasonable amount of sun. And shops that stay open all afternoon (and even some on Sunday).

Genova, day 2. Sunday's are closed.

October 21, 2007 Sunday

It’s been a while since I’ve used a caffe moka pot. Of course, there were no directions. So I fumbled around trying to remember how much water, how much coffee, how to cook it (I do remember you don’t want to put it on high and let the water blast through the grinds). Well, it pretty much worked. I didn’t put in quite enough coffee, but it will certainly help wake me up.

This is Italy, and whether they are still devout Catholics or not, Sunday is the day of rest. Very few businesses are open, and then those are clustered around what might constitute the tourist areas (e.g., by the harbor) and are operated almost exclusively by Middle Eastern or Asian merchants.

The supermarket was open 9-12, but of course, I missed that. Apparently there was a bread shop open this morning, too. Now, however, everything is closed. I took a walk up to the school to be sure I didn’t get lost tomorrow morning, the first day. And I thought, I’ll get some lunch while I’m out. Not. I walked for nearly 2 hours along some of the streets that seemed most busy yesterday. Almost deserted. Very few people about. It was spooky with everything locked up and hardly anyone else walking around.

I finally got a slice of pizza at a shop on the harbor (choices were pizza or gyros).

So back to the apartment and up the stairs. Fortunately I have enough stuff to fix dinner tonight. But no wine. Next week, I’ll be better prepared.

Genova, day 1. Setting up the apartment

October 20, 2007, Saturday

Time to inventory the apartment to see what groceries and other items I need. The kitchen has 3 pots (7 liters, 5 liters, 1.5 liters), one skillet (non-stick and badly scarred), a bread knife, an assortment of dishes, cutlery, and one abused caffe moka pot.

So I needed to get at least a decent chef knife and a decent skillet/sauté pan. And a new caffe moka pot. Plus groceries: pasta, olive oil, garlic, onions, etc. Of course I didn’t remember everything on the first round (besides, I couldn’t have carried everything in one go). So back out. As in most of Europe, there are specialty stores for some kinds of foodstuffs: meat and/or cheese, bread, pastries/desserts. Also as in other parts of Europe, which is way ahead of the US in this regard, they irradiate some perishable items: like milk and eggs. They keep them on the regular grocery shelf, not refrigerated. Just in case I needed some, I got a small carton of cream that way (it has an expiration date of Jan 28, 2008).

I found, by accident, a shop that sells kitchen stuff. Just what I needed for the knife and pan. It was one of those places that have stuff piled, stacked, shelved, nook and crannied everywhere. And one shopkeeper, a nice woman who put up with my broken Italian. I wanted some tongs, and not knowing the Italian for it, I mimed it. She thought I meant a hot-pad. Then she thought maybe a lobster cracker. Finally, after some more words and gestures, she got it. All she had were tongs that looked like brobdingnagian tweezers, long and thin. Hardly something you’d want to use with pasta or to turn over a cotolette.

Then I went into the bread shop. “What did I want?”, they said. I looked at the variety of shapes of breads and thought: okay, steady now. And blurted out: “Io sono un Americano, e parlo solo un poco Italiano” or I’m an American and I speak only a little Italian. So the first thing they propose is a loaf that is a bit crunchy on the outside, but soft on the inside (they think I want something like Wonder bread). But then I saw a few loaves with names I knew, but I wanted to try some of the other shapes. I got one roll that was good for two meals and another item that looked vaguely like the head on a stalk of wheat, but with grains that were about 3 inches long and 1-1/2 inches wide (and yes, it was crunchy on the outside and soft on the inside).

I went to the cheese shop for Parmigiano. The chef at La Strada, one of my favorite Italian restaurants in Palo Alto, said I should really try some Castelmagno. This is a cheese made in a town of the same name east of Genova and that is aged in caves with a special kind of mold that causes the rind of the cheese to turn brown. He said it was the ultimate Italian cheese, and could I send him back a round of it. Well, I checked. A round is 5-6kg, at close to 30 euro/kg, and then shipping…. Sorry Donato, you’ll have to get your Castelmagno yourself. But I did get a chunk. It’s a semi-hard cheese and tastes a bit nutty, with a hint of blue about it. It’s more crumbly than Parmigiano, with almost a chalky texture. And it’s pretty good stuff to taste.

It’s a strange thing. I can understand a lot of what people say to me, but I can’t say much back. And local customs vary. In other parts of Italy they greet you with Buongiorno (or Good Day). Here often they say Salve (which I think means Hail, at least that’s what it means in Latin, as in “Salve Maria” or “Hail, Mary”). I suspect it’s like going from Germany, where they say they say Guten Tag (Good Day), to Austria where they say “Gruss Gott” or God’s Greetings.

Well, back up the stairs one more time. Dinner tonight is chicken sauted with garlic and mixed with penne rigate and pesto Genovese. Side salad. Nebbiolo d’Alba. My first self-cooked meal in Italy (I almost said my first home cooked meal in Italy, but I’ve had home cooked in Rome at Marco Sampaolo’s parents’).

Last day in Alba. Going to Genova

October 19, 2007, Friday

My last day in Alba. I packed up to begin the trek to Genova, but went for a last stroll around the town to take more pictures. I had lunch at Locanda del Pilone and met some folks from LA and their friends who had just moved to Alba (they’re Texans with a drawl—they spoke Italian, but I didn’t notice if it had a drawl, too). It turned out that the restaurant was owned by the Cerreto family, who also have a winery just outside Alba. The restaurant manager was able to get me a slot in a tour at 2pm, which just fit my schedule.

So packed, checked out of the Hotel Savona in Alba, I went to the Cerreto cantina (winery). Most wineries require reservations, you can’t just walk in like you can in Napa or Sonoma. They are also much more personal. There were 3 of us on the tour. The other 2 were a couple from Australia. He worked for an Aussie wine company and was in Piemonte getting clues for wine-making back home. So we were treated very well and offered tastings of wines that usually didn’t make it to the tasting table. The first part of the tour went over the Cerreto family holdings vineyards in Alba, Barolo, Barbaresco; what sorts of wine they made at each of them, etc. We toured the wine making facilites and met a couple of the Cerreto sons that currently run the winery. For the tasting, they take into the tasting room and all sit at a table where the tour guide pours the selections (this is the way that Caymus sets up their tastings in Napa). All in all, a very nice tour (but the Cerreto wines aren’t that good).

From there, I hopped onto the Autostrada and drove to Genova (about 1-1/2 hours at 80 mph or 130kph). Well, I arrived in Genoa (Genova in Italian) and checked into my "studio" apartment. After the GPS misdirected me to the Hertz rental place (I'm not sure what they mean by their "Neverlost" brand name, but it's pretty bad when it can't even get you back to Hertz!). Finally a guy from Hertz came by and showed me where it was (I wasn't far, but I couldn't understand what he was telling me to do).

I get a taxi and meet the landlady, Signora Giovanna Pescetto. The building she says is 16th century, and the floor is original brick (and sags in the middle). Anyway, the building is in a pedestrian-only zone, so I have to lug my bags up a stairway to get from the plaza where the taxi left me off to the front door of the building. Then she says someone is staying in the apartment they sent pictures of and so she's given me a bigger unit on the 3rd floor (remember here, the first floor is one flight UP, so an Italian 3^rd floor is a US 4^th floor). So more lugging (my big bag weighed in at 53 pounds when I check in at the airport, and felt like 63 pounds after the first flight, 73 pounds after the second flight, …).

So much for wondering if I was going to get enough exercise. Just walking up to the apartment a couple times a day will do it! Even without luggage.

We get to the apartment. The front door opens on a kitchen/dining combo. Off to one side is my bedroom with 2 single beds. So far, so good. There is a washing machine, but she says it doesn't wring all the water out, and a clothes line is out the window, just like in the movies!

Then there are set of stairs going up to a loft. The original room must have had 14 foot ceilings. This has been divided vertically to make the loft. From the bath level, there are another 3 steps to the living room and a second bedroom (anyone want to visit?). However, there's a catch. The clearance between the floor and the original beamed ceiling in the loft is about 5 feet. I can just stand up if I put my head between the beams. Fortunately, the bath ceiling is a normal height.

It's fairly nice, all in all. It even has DSL (with a wired connection), so I won't have to take my laptop to the school to do email.

After quickly unpacking, I head back down the (way too many) stairs to find dinner. Luckily there’s a pizzeria just a few yards from the front door. Time to eat and crash.

Torino, day 2, and the Benedictine Abbey of Vezzolano

October 18, 2007, Thursday

I decided to go back to Torino to check out Eataly (www.eataly.it) and then go northwest to Albugnano to see the Benedictine Abbey of Vezzolano. Getting to Eataly was pretty easy as it’s right off the main road going into Torino from Alba. Eataly is one of the centers of the Slow Food movement here in Italy (www.slowfood.com). The slow food movement was started in Italy in 1986. It’s publication office was opened in Bra in 1987 (there’s a picture of the office in the Bra, La Morra, Barolo photo album).

Eataly bills itself as the largest food and wine market in Torino (they have plans for stores in Milan, Genoa, New York). It is a huge store for Italy. Probably about the size of the Whole Foods on El Camino Real at San Antonio in Palo Alto, with products that are along similar lines. Eataly places more emphasis on explaining the origin of the food they have, and also on the connection of the food with the locale in which it was grown. Eataly has a large education program with cooking classes, etc. I forgot to take pictures while I was there, but their website has several.

After strolling through Eataly, I drove to the Benedictine Abbey of Vezzolano. The guidebook said to go to Albugnano, but the abbey is in Vezzolano, so why not go there first? I programmed the Hertz Everlost to Vezzolano. After leaving Torino, I went most of the way back to Asti before heading north again (there are no highways between Torino and Albugnano/Vezzolano, only small roads). Once heading north, I kept getting semi-lost because the Everlost didn’t have the most current maps—especially for roundabouts. There are LOTS of roundabouts in this part of Italy where many roads come together. The Everlost system only tells you to take the 1^st (2^nd, 3^rd, etc.) exit off the roundabout, not the direction. But they add new roads to the roundabouts, so the Everlost count it off. Usually you’re okay because the signs tell you what exit takes you to towns in that direction. But for small towns, well, they aren’t listed.

At one point, Everlost took me across a field on a “road” (I’d have called it a tractor path—dirt, rocks, and any pavement disintegrated long ago). Finally it got me to what it thought was Vezzolano. I was in a small village of maybe 6 homes on the side of a hill. The road was almost wide enough for the tiny Fiat I was driving and it wound around buildings before coming to an even narrower path (another tractor path). I looked around and saw nothing that looked like an abbey, only farms and farm buildings.

So I pull into a yard with an old woman feeding chickens and ask. Where is the Benedictine Abbey of Vezzolano? She looked at me like I was crazy (whether because of my Italian or at the sight of some lost idiot from the city), but finally shook her head and explained that yes, Vezzolano was the way I was going, but that way was only a goat track she wouldn’t try in a 4-wheel drive truck (yes, I did get all that after she slowed down and repeated herself). She said, go back the way you came to the main road and go to Albugnano, and then to Vezzolano from that side, not from this side. She then added a bunch of turn left here, right there, go up the hill and turn right at something or other. Never mind. Even if I’d understood, I couldn’t have remembered. Grazie. Arrivederci.

Getting back into the car, I turned off the Everlost and tossed it into the trunk. Back to the main road and follow the signs to Albugnano. Albugnano is a small village (but huge compared to the little place I’d just been). It sits on the top of a hill and has great views over the countryside (there are pictures). From Albugnano, there are signs to Vezzolano. As near as I can tell, the only thing in Vezzolano are a few farms and the Benedictine Abbey which was built in the 12^th and 13^th centuries. It is the “finest example of Romanesque architecture in Piemonte.” By this time it’s 5:20pm. I approach the abbey and it’s locked. But someone is driving up to a solid wood gate, which is opened by a young boy. The car drives through and I try to ask the boy if I can get into the abbey? No, it closed at 5pm, he says as the gate swings shut with a deep boom. Okay. I drove 3 hours to get lost and get to the abbey after it closed.

The grounds around the abbey remind me of the descriptions of abbey life in the Cadfael mystery stories by Ellis Peters. There’s a walled orchard, and outside the wall there’s fields of vegetables. Too bad I didn’t get to go inside.

On the way home from Vezzolano, I see a sign to Pino d’Asti. This is a town that makesa white wine from pinto noir grapes. So I say, why not take a look. It’s another hill town, but the hill is very high and precipitous, and a pretty nice drive to the top. The road through the village comes up one side of the hill, wanders across the top, and down the other side. The road is seldom straight, but has switchbacks going up and down, and winds through the village, probably following cow paths or pedestrian ways from the past.

Finally back in Alba (it took much less time to return since I didn’t get lost as often). I had dinner at Osteria la Libera (Michelin recommendation). Nice place. The food was good, but not great.

Note: The cost of unleaded gas is about euro 1.35 per liter, which is about $1.89 per liter, or approximately $7.80 per gallon. It took euro 53 ($74) to fill up a very small Fiat Punto. So when I come home, I don’t think I’ll be complaining about gas prices!

Torino, day 1

October 17, 2007, Wednesday

Today is the destination is Torino. It’s about an hour’s drive on the autostrada, or two if you take the back roads leisurely. Not being in a hurry, I figured a nice drive through the countryside would be nice. More hills, vineyards, etc. Eventually I have to get onto the highway to get into Torino, which is one of the larger cities in Italy and home to the Savoy kings (so there are lots of palaces, etc.).

Since I had no clue where to go, I just got horribly lost. I finally saw a parking place on the street and got out of the car. I did have a paper map (Alwayslost was no help since I didn’t know where I wanted to go). I headed for the nearest café, had some coffee, and figured out where I was and likely where I wanted to go. Fortunately I was somewhat near one of the areas with palaces. After a 30 minute walk, I was there. The tourist information booth wasn’t where it was supposed to be. So I wandered around looking at architecture, shops, etc.

The palace, most recently occupied by Vittorio Emanuele II (1820-1878), was open for tours, but it was guided tours only. The next one left too late. Even so, you got to walk through a bit of the palace to get to the ticket office (no photos allowed, so sorry). I wandered toward a museum next door that had an exhibit of Afghan antiquities. I thought, okay, why not?

I’ve been reading Mary Renault’s books on Alexander the Great (356-323BC). It happens that he conquered Persia and parts of Afghanistan. There were a lot of articles in the exhibit from that period showing the Greek influence on the native jewelry, pots, plates, serving utensils, etc. It was an unexpected, and happy, conjunction to be able to see some of the things that might have been used in the story.

Back in Alba, I had dinner at Conte Rosso. Ravioli with tartuffo bianco; veal with Barolo sauce (this seems to be a habit, pasta and meat in Barolo).