Farm Fresh on a Sunny Day

Farm Fresh on a Sunny Day

Saturday. Clear blue skies. About 50 degrees. Yes!

I headed down the canal on my bike, but decided on a change of scenery and followed the path I learned about from Angelo, my surprise tour guide in mid-January. The one lane road wound though small towns and rice fields. I found my way back to the same old “cascina” (large, formerly-fortified farm) that Angelo had shown me. The farm store had been closed that time before, and though they were closed again, a young woman came out of the house and welcomed me into the shop.

“What do you recommend?”, I asked her. She pointed out all of their own farm-produced foods and I selected fresh ricotta, fresh mozzarella, brown rice and salami. What could be better?!

I found a way to secure the little bundle on my bike and continued my ride. There was a woman on a pink scooter. A lawn hosting 4 peacocks. An old tile roof warming 3 black cats. 1 Woman on a bike. Swelling buds on the trees. And a stop to say “hello” to Padre Pio at his shrine in Zibido San Giacomo. What a day!

Gauging the position of the sun and the remaining daylight and warmth, I went as far as Noviglio then turned around to head north back to home.

The very first thing upon coming in the door was to open the ricotta and mozzarella and have a taste. OH…MY! That fresh ricotta was better than most ice cream. I simply got myself a spoon and started eating it. Wow. Delicious. And the salami was good, too.

I’m really liking this. Go for a bike ride and, not far out of the city, pick up home grown rice and fresh ricotta cheese. (This is so unlike my previous life experience.)

A Cute, Little Italian

A Cute, Little Italian

Hmm. I might find me a cute, little Italian. All the right curves and straight lines. Just my size. Fits into tight places. Agile and responsive. Yah. Sounds good to me!

(I don’t know what YOU were thinking. I was talking about a CAR!)

Before I came here, I sold my Honda CR-V and figured I’d get something else when I returned. As I go around Milano, I look at all the cars and 98% of them have tiny, little footprints. Certainly better suited for the city than big SUVs and pickups.

So I think about “going small” (aren’t I already?) and getting one of the models I see here. For sentimental and purely irrational reasons, I keep thinking of getting a Fiat 500, or “Fiat Cinquecento” (ching-kway-chain-toe). It’s small. It’s Italian. And it would remind me of my time here. (Irrational rationale.)

It would also remind me of the day I went to the Triennale Design Museum and saw the wooden mold for the Fiat 600, (say-chain-toe), cousin to the Cinquecento, and then walked outside on that sunny day and saw a golden oldie original 500 parked out front. (Ahh, the things that sway decisions!)

Yes, there are Smart Cars; a chartreuse green one that parks in front of my apartment appeals to me because of it’s color. But the Smart Cars look like praying mantis heads. (Not necessarily a bad thing. I think of a former pet mantis named “Elvira”.) And there are a dozen other near-microscopic boxes-on-wheels to consider.

But what of road safety? When EVERYONE has a tiny car, such as here in Europe, that’s one thing. When most people have landboats, like in the U.S., a micro-vehicle wouldn’t stand a chance in a collision.

And what about repair and maintenance?

I don’t know. I have some time before I need to make a decision. A high-end bike may very well be my first vehicle purchase when I get back to Seattle, (whenever that will be).

Who out there knows about Fiats? Who knows what they cost? (I read online that they’ll be available in the U.S. in the late Fall.)

In the meantime, I’m just keeping my eye on these cute Italians and admiring what I see.

UPDATE: 13 Feb. 2010
I saw this little Fiat 500L along the street last night. It’s TINY! (Looks almost the same as the red one, above.)

Pouting for Springtime

I’m pouting. Tuesday morning and it’s 34 degrees outside. Sunday morning I was riding a bike along the sea, wearing a light t-shirt with blue sky overhead and sun on my face. Temperatures were in the 60s, which felt fresh and warm enough to remember the glory of warmer days.

After the dark, cold, wet days of Winter in Milan we will all have EARNED our Springtime here! I’m just a trainride away from warm sun. Hmm. Where shall I go for some sun in my eyes?

Sanremo on the Riviera

Sanremo on the Riviera

The locals write “Sanremo”, a conjunction of the saint’s name. The rest of the world splits it into two words: San Remo. It’s a beautiful and small little town that has palm trees befitting any seaside resort, as well as the narrow, pedestrian-only, rabbit-warren paths that are so characteristic of towns around Italy. Just a breath away from France, if I threw a rock into the air it would land on the other side of the border. (It’s actually about 15 miles away). I’m glad I visited in February; I can only imagine this place having standing-room-only in the summer!

From my journal. Sunday, 7 February 2010
“Saturday morning woke us to blue skies and warming temperatures that spoke of Spring. We had a breakfast of prosciutto, fresh mozzarella and toast before heading into the town of Sanremo. We inched through the very crowded market which sprawled over many blocks. Hawkers sold housewares, handbags and cashmere, most at dirt cheap prices and most at acceptable quality. I bought nothing.

A lovely day, with my light jacket unzipped and open under the sky, fresh air in off the water, and the clarity that follows a hard rain. the sun was brilliant in my eyes and the mimosa was just beginning to bloom.”

As is common in other big cities around Italy (the rest of Europe, too?), there are “human statues” that pose for money, either with a tourist or without. I’ve seen them in Rome, usually dressed head-to-toe in all white or gold, mimicking the old statuary. This man, however, was clad in silver painted junk, tied and heaped onto his body. He stood stock-still, shimmering. I enjoyed his fresh take on the well-worn statuary vision.

Three Countries. One Day.

Three Countries. One Day.

The “pinch me” part. Along our drive I had been seeing “travel-guide Italy”, scenic, seaside towns, cliffside old buildings, palm trees, polished hotels and trattorias. The statues, the weathered stone and white columns were brilliant against the blue sky we had been given, and were just the sights that make people book a vacation. Incredible. It was all here.

We drove west along the Ligurian Sea route, through Bordighera and Ventimiglia to the border town of Menton, France. We got out and strolled the seaside walk, the streetside markets, the town squares. I heard French all around me but forgot to switch to “Merci”.

Most of the details on this yellow building are painted. Can you tell which shutters are real?

We continued on to Monaco and the Casino Monte-Carlo

Pinch Me

Pinch Me

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?

Bluone: Open Hearts in Bologna

Bluone: Open Hearts in Bologna

Years ago, a girlfriend of mine from Seattle traveled and stayed with Marcello and Raffaella Tori of BluOne Cooking Tours in Bologna. When my girlfriend, Carri, returned home to Seattle, she kept talking with great fondness about the couple, their big hearts, and the wonderful time spent with them.

MarcelloRaffaella-LO2

For 15 years, Marcello and Raffaella have been offering small, guided culinary tours customized for food lovers, home cooks and pro chefs. Talk about a foodie’s delight! They are based in Bologna, but also lead their cooking adventures in Emilia Romagna, Umbria, Le Marche, Piemonte and other regions of Italy.

The other day when I decided to go to Bologna for the weekend, I got in touch with Marcello and Raffaella and asked if we could meet for even a few minutes. I didn’t want to disturb their weekend plans, but wanted to at least get a photo of them to send to Carri. We e-mailed back and forth a few times and chatted by phone to make arrangements.

I showed up at their home yesterday at 5:00, (a half hour later than we had planned). They opened their door, greeted me with big hellos and sat me down at their kitchen table for tea and freshly baked apple tart (which perfumed the house). We talked for a couple of hours, and laughed and shared ideas about a hundred different things. When it was time for me to dash back into town to catch my train home, we exchanged hugs, kisses and vows to share a long, delicious dinner next time.

I walked away with new friends in my life.

If you’re looking for a more interesting vacation in Italy, something memorable that takes you into the homes and hearts of people, I can’t think of a dearer couple to lead your way. Through food and fun, Marcello and Raffaella will create a never-to-be-forgotten time in your life.

Marcello & Raffaella Tori
Bluone – Cooking Tours in Italy
Via Parigi, 11 40121 Bologna – Italy
Phone +39 051 263546
Fax +39 051 267774
Web: www.bluone.com
E-Mail: info@bluone.com

Cathedral, Basilica, Chapel, Baptistry

Cathedral, Basilica, Chapel, Baptistry

After rising up from the valley floor in the funiculare tram, a short walk brings you to the old plaza, la Piazza Vecchia. Encircled by palaces, a bell tower and a colonnaded portico, the space is punctuated at its center by a Baroque fountain from the late 1700s. The piazza is the heart of the city.Those palaces now house restaurants, hotels, a school and a museum.

BergamoPiazzaVecchia

Passing through the portico (at the left in the photo above, under the banners) you find a white marble sundial that was set into the ground in 1798. It points the way north. (It seems to have been restored in 1982.)

BergamoSundial1

BergamoSundial2

Just beyond the other side of the portico, you step into the Piazza del Duomo, the Plaza of the Cathedral. In mediaeval times this little square was at the political, commercial and religious heart of town. Facing south into the piazza, from your left to right is the Cattedrale di Bergamo (il Duomo), the Basilica di Santa Maria Maggiore, the Cappella Colleoni and the Battistero (Bapistry).

Cattedrale di Bergamo – il Duomo
The ceiling of the Duomo featured gilt patterning and accents to its carved decorations surrounding painted scenes.

BergamoDuomoCeiling

I have a real soft spot for the shrines to Mary. This Madonna della Pietá is in an elaborately carved and embellished side altar.

BergamoDuomoMadonnaPieta

While in the cathedral, I heard chanting and thought perhaps they were playing a recording “for ambience”. No. I followed the singing which lead me down a staircase near the altar. I came to a very modern underground chapel and 50 Nuns at mass, surrounded by a dozen sarcophaghi.

BergamoDuomoNunsAtMass

The dominant presence in the Piazza del Duomo is the union of entrances for the Basilica di Santa Maria Maggiore (at left in the photo below) and the Cappella Colleoni (at right).

BergamoBasilicaCapellaFronts

Basilica di Santa Maria Maggiore
The Basilica entry is fairly modest and overshadowed by the Chapel entry at its side. It opens, however, into a great, embellished space.

BergamoBasilicaCeiling1

BergamoBasilicaCeiling2

Here’s a shot of the crucifix that hangs over the central altar. (Note the skull and crossbones at the base of the cross.)

BergamoBasilicaCrucifix

All vertical walls are covered with pictorial tapestries. (Although it was still very cold in there!)

BergamoBasilicaTapestry

Here is historic Bergamo’s answer to today’s compact PDA/Calendar. This is how they note the times of the masses for week days and weekends.

BergamoMassSchedule

On the outside wall of the Basilica, just to the left of the front door, are permanently-mounted, flat bars of iron that are measuring devices from the Middle Ages. (I can’t find any information about their purpose or unit-of-measure.)

BergamoBasilicaMeasures

“The Weaver’s Wall” and “the Weaver’s Comb.” (?)

BergamoBasilicaMeasuresParete

BergamoBasilicaMeasuresPettine

Cappella Colleoni
From a Wikipedia entry: “Dedicated to the saints Bartholomew, Mark and John the Baptist, it was built in 1472-1476 as the personal shrine for the famous condottiere Bartolomeo Colleoni, a member of one of the most outstanding families of the city, and his beloved daughter Medea. The site chosen was that of the sacristy of the nearby church of Santa Maria Maggiore, which was demolished by Colleoni’s soldiers.”

With its 3-D lozenge pattern, the repetition of columns, the figurative sculptures, rose windows, domes and bas-relief panels, no one and no building could compete for stature against this chapel. I think that one could study it all day, as well as the decorated fence surrounding the chapel entry. (No photos were allowed inside.)

The Baptistry
My favorite part of the Baptistry is the decorative ironwork fence around its octagonal shape/

BergamoBaptistry

– – –

Note: So very many images and scholarly descriptions are available online that it would feel redundant if I tried to duplicate what’s already been said. I would rather toss out my own personal impressions and show what catches MY eye and mind, and provide enough information so that a blog reader could do their own further research.

 

Bergamo: “Home on the Mountain”

Bergamo: “Home on the Mountain”

For 4 Euro and 20 cents – about $6.00 – each way, I was able to hop on the train and take a 45 minute ride to Bergamo, east-north-east of Milan.

Amazing amazingness. I’m still picking my chin up off the floor. I’m in awe that I can spend just a few dollars and in less than an hour be walking around in a walled city up on a hill, that was occupied by the Romans in the second century B.C.

They say that the name “Bergamo” has Celtic origins from the word “Bergheim”, “Home on the Mountain”. From what I read, the Celts inhabited the city and built the wall before the Romans took possession. And the story goes on from there.

I arrived at the train station in the “cittá bassa”, the lower city of Bergamo, then started walking in the direction of the upper city, the “cittá alta”. The two are quite separate and distinct from each other in appearance and identity. When I reached the lower “funiculare”, or tram station, I hopped on. I wanted to get UP.

As I walked from the train station toward the "Cittá Alta" I caught this glimpse of the city above me.

As I walked from the train station toward the “Cittá Alta” I caught this glimpse of the city above me.

By 11:00 in the morning I was walking on those roads made of upended, round cobbles. They’re actually quite uncomfortable to tread on, but they’ve also been designed with footpath-wide stripes of flat stone. How smart!

In these towns, it’s a thrill to wander the main route and browse the shop fronts, but also – even more so – to get away from main street and explore the back roads.

Would you ever see this in the U.S.? An animal's leg, hoof-on, in the shop window? When a customer comes in, the store clerk steps over, carves away at the uncooked, aged hock, wraps up the meat and then goes on about the day.

Would you ever see this in the U.S.? An animal’s leg, hoof-on, in the shop window? When a customer comes in, the store clerk steps over, carves away at the uncooked, aged hock, wraps up the meat and then goes on about the day.

These cheeses are beautiful with their imprints, and I like the packaging on the (moldy) pancetta bound with wood.

The imprinted cheeses are beautiful and I like the packaging on the (moldy) pancetta bound with wood.

How could I NOT come back and buy some of this chocolate torte to bring home? It's DENSE!

How could I NOT come back and buy some of this chocolate torte to bring home? It’s DENSE!

There's a sweeping bend in the hill and its city and this is a view of the incredible places on that hillside, behind the wall.

This is a view of the incredible places on the sweeping curve of the hillside, behind the wall.

Towns like this beg to be explored, and the little "trattorie" beg to be sampled.

Towns like this beg to be explored, and the little “trattorie” beg to be sampled.

Bergamo reminds me of other places I’ve visited: San Gimignano, Siena, Venezia, Monteriggioni, Lucca, St. Angelo… There are hardly much more than footpaths in a rabbit warren fashion within the bounds of these cities. One car CAN fit on the streets of Bergamo, but just barely, and with difficulty if there’s also a pedestrian trying to get through. (Some of the cities I just listed don’t have any cars within them!) The narrow, shaded, no-end-in-sight passages generate such intrigue. What’s around the next bend?

There's fresco decoration just under the roofline of the house on the left.

There’s fresco decoration just under the roofline of the house on the left. The round pebbles would provide good traction, but the flat stones at left are so much more comfortable to walk on.

Park where you can. These homes look out over the sweeping valley below.

Park where you can. These homes look out over the valley below.

This is the side wall of the convent of the Domenican Nuns. I loved their splash of color!

This is the side wall of the convent of the Domenican Nuns. I love their splash of color!

Why is the road leading to the convent called the "Way of the Vaginas"? (I'm sorry, but the question just had to be asked.)

Why is the road leading to the convent called the “Way of the Vaginas”? (I’m sorry, but the question just had to be asked.)

One of the things that so excites my mind is the layering of history in these towns, a result of demolition, restoration, remodeling, war destruction, repair, embellishment.

One of the things that so excites my mind is the layering of history in these towns, a result of demolition, restoration, remodeling, war destruction, weather, repair, embellishment.

Left to right: street, curb and sidewalk.

Left to right: street, curb and sidewalk.

Some doors have fresh coats of paint. Some show the patina of wear, hand oils creating a sheen from use.

Some doors have fresh coats of paint. Some show the patina of wear, hand oils creating a sheen from use.

A walking town on a hillside. Ideal for one's health.

A walking town on a hillside. Ideal for one’s health.

The construction crane is out of place with the old stone, but then again, it mimics the towers around it.

The construction crane is out of place with the old stone, but then again, it mimics the towers around it.

Late in the afternoon, I found my way to "La Rocca", a tower, museum and military memorial. ALWAYS climb to the top of a tower in any city you visit!

Late in the afternoon, I found my way to “La Rocca”, a tower, museum and military memorial. ALWAYS climb to the top of a tower in any city you visit!

At the end of the day, having explored the city and eaten a good meal, my camera battery was flashing red and I shot a few last images as the afternoon light waned. This door (below) caught my eye and demanded that I push the battery for just one more shot. When doing so, a man stopped to chat, saying that he, too, likes the old doors and is a sometime-painter. We talked about the longevity of wood versus stone and the absence of such ancient structures in the U.S. He asked where I’m from and when I told him I’m an American from Seattle, he said “But you speak such good Italian!” I smiled. We shook hands and wished each other well.

A painter that also loves the old doors.

A painter that also loves the old doors.