There’s no way I could have CONCEIVED of this weekend! Talk about “living on a movie set!” It was all beyond real, not to be believed. Pinch me. Am I dreaming this stuff up?
Friday morning at 11:10 I hopped on the train heading to Sanremo on the Italian Riviera.
Just outside of Milan, a blizzard started.
(I later heard Milan had several inches of snow. I missed it again.)
I arrived in Sanremo in pouring rain and was welcomed by Sandra, my landlady, and her husband, Mauro, whom I had met once last Fall and had talked to for only an hour. They had invited me to stay at their house for 3 days.
We cleaned a big pile of mussels, clams and branzino (fish) to cook up for dinner.
Their good friend, Sandro, joined us for dinner and the four of us ate and talked all evening. Sandra, Sandro, Mauro and Maureen.
Saturday morning was sunny and blue-skied, and Sandra, Mauro and I wandered through the crowded street markets of Sanremo and strolled along the shoreline path.
At 2:00, after lunch, the 4 of us took off driving west along the Ligurian Sea/Riviera coast and about 15 miles down the road crossed over into France.
We stopped in Menton, France, wandered around town and I kept forgetting to change languages and say “Merci” instead of “Grazie”.
About 15 miles further, we crossed over into Monaco.
We walked around town, saw the outside of the Casino Monte Carlo and the route for the Grand Prix Monte Carlo.
We toured an amazing show of 300 photographs of women, photos c. 1900-2008, all from a private collection.
This morning was again sunny, blue-skied and in the 60s. The four of us went for a 14 mile bike ride to the town of Santo Stefano al Mare, along the paved bike path at the water’s edge on the Riviera.
We returned home to a meal of apperitivi and rabbit.
I had spent three days, with three people, speaking and listening to Italian the whole time. (I think I rounded a corner a month or so ago.)
When I left this afternoon, I felt as if I had spent the weekend with friends I’ve known for years.
I hopped on the train which left promptly at 3:15. The ride was under sunny skies until the town of Ronco, in the mountains halfway between the coast and Milan, where there was deep snow and whiteout conditions. I arrived home at 7:30 Sunday evening to “bare and wet”.
I had traveled from Spring back in time to Winter in a matter of just a few hours.
What’s next on the list?