Back in Italy

A blog about experiences, memories, and little pieces of knowledge about Italian language, culture and life. See the main site at backinitalyblog.com.

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I left the house around 9am and followed the route to the Cattedrale di San Giusto. The other day I’d gotten a bit lost in this area, but this time had no trouble following the map to get to the castle. It’s quite a steep walk up as you reach it, and in the heat it can be difficult!

At the back of the cathedral there was a great view over the city, stretching outwards towards the sea. While I sat to rest my feet, two Italian women arrived and started making excited phone calls to their relatives to tell them they were in Trieste. So funny listening… :-) Nearby were a set of what looked like Roman ruins, with a few people milling about within them. A couple of kiosks selling drinks and souvenirs were also being set up.

Walking down the other side of the cathedral, I reached the Via del Teatro Romano, and walked over to find the theatre and the Arco di Riccardo, an old Roman arch. I bought an Illy coffee flavoured ice cream (delicious!) from a small gelateria and went to window shop a second hand bookstore/antiques shop.

I walked up to Piazza Oberdan, from which you can catch a tram that takes you uphill to the small village of Opicina north of Trieste. When I arrived, the tram was already waiting outside a small café in the square. I popped in to buy a ticket and some water (seriously, I’ve lost count of many bottles of water I’ve bought!), but the tram left while I was inside.

After about twenty minutes or so, the next tram arrived and we went on our way. Most, if not all, of the passengers were tourists. The tram went steeply uphill, and I felt myself sliding across the seat, and had to be careful not to collide into the person sat next to me.

Getting to the stop in Opicina, I got out and popped into the café. The TV was on, showing the RAI news. Two middle-aged men were talking politics and their topic turned to the British referendum on the EU. One of them said “ah questi inglesi…sono vent’anni che ci rompono i coglioni!” (Oh, these British…they’ve been busting our balls for twenty years!). I tried hard not to laugh and wondered whether to intervene and tell them about how we’ve been ‘busting their balls’ by giving work to so many unemployed young Italians…

Anyway, moving swiftly on… :-)

I probably should’ve come out of the cafe and explored the area, but given time was limited, I decided to head back to Trieste. I’m not sure there’s actually much of interest up there anyway—it’s the tram itself that is the attraction.

Back down in Trieste, I decided to go to Piazza Liberta’—not too far, after all—to buy a train ticket to Brescia for the next morning. I was pleased to see that there is a direct route.

Afterwards, I walked along the promenade to the Canal Grande, where I popped into a small souvenir shop and picked up some postcards for my ‘postcard wall’ back home. Walking west along the promenade from Unita’ d’Italia, I arrived at the pier where the tourist ferries were heading towards Muggia and Sistiana. The next boat was just about to leave, but I checked the timetable and decided to have lunch first before coming back.

The timetable posted outside said that the boat would arrive at a place called Barcola at 5:45pm, then Grignano at 6:10pm, and finally Sistiana at 6:50pm. Unfortunately, the last boat of the day would then leave Sistiana at 6:55pm for the reverse journey back to Trieste, leaving me all of 5 minutes to enjoy the place…I decided I would instead hop off at Grignano and spend an hour there while waiting for the boat to come back at 7:30pm.

All well and good, right? Well we’ll see…

I found a nice restaurant tucked away in a rather windy area off the Piazza Unita’ d’Italia, and sat down for lunch: melon and prosciutto for starters (I love this!), mixed fish grill for mains, and a chocolate crepe for dessert. As I ate, I realised I was actually the only one in the outdoor area of this restaurant. It was around two o’clock now, and most people wouldn’t be eating at this hour! Besides, I realised they might well be closing soon for their afternoon nap.

After I finished my dessert, an age seemed to pass where there was no sign of the waitress. I didn’t mind so much as I was happy just to sit for a while and watch the world go by, as one does…However, I eventually began to wonder what on earth I was supposed to do. In the end, I got up and wandered over to the restaurant entrance, tucked away in a side street from where I had been sitting. It was all dark inside, but there was someone there doing cleaning. Luckily, she had my bill on the counter (the waitress had left it there…), but as they didn’t accept credit cards I had to trudge out to go looking for a bancomat.

Anyway, I won’t bore you with the rest of that. Having paid, I bought a bottle of water and headed off to the port to catch the boat to Sistiana. It was now half past five. I was clearly still digesting my big seafood meal, and I drank lots of water on board to help me along. I got a bit drowsy in the heat and closed my eyes on and off for a bit. The boat arrived at Barcola, and I perked up to make sure I got off at the next stop, Grignano.

The boat went back onto the water and eventually made its next stop. I got off and wandered onto the pier. There was a backdrop of trees everywhere, in front of which were a row of little kiosks selling food and drink of all sorts, including one that looked like a little outdoor pub. Before settling for a drink, I decided to wander a bit and explore the area. Walking along the pier and the nearby car park, I arrived at this luxury resort area with lots of new buildings. I was slightly curious to see that many of the signs said Sistiana rather than Grignano, but I guessed that was just due to Sistiana being the name of the area as a whole.

At this point, walking back to the kiosks, I checked my watch. To my surprise, it said 7:15pm. I was surprised by how fast time had gone by, since I knew the boat coming back was arriving at 7:30. Oh well, I thought. Then, as I again began looking at the signs saying Sistiana, I realised…

I wasn’t in Grignano. I was in Sistiana…

I’d obviously dozed off at some point during the boat trip and missed a stop.

Oh dear. This meant that the boat that had left was the last boat of the day back to Trieste. I just stood there for a few minutes, wondering how on earth this had happened. For all I knew I was in the middle of nowhere. I trudged back to the car park, trying to think about how I was going to get back. That’s when I noticed a bus stop not far from where the kiosks were. Checking the timetable, I saw that a bus towards Trieste would be stopping here at around 8pm. However, it seemed a bit dubious that a bus would actually come here, but you couldn’t argue with the sign and the timetable!

Reassured that I had some transport after all, I stopped at the mini-pub to have a glass of wine (my first of the trip!). In the meantime, I kept glancing at the car park to see if the bus was arriving. As 8pm came round, I began to worry, as there was no sign of any bus. Maybe it was just late? I waited and waited, then decided to ask the bartender, who said that she didn’t think the bus stopped here anymore. I went again to check the timetable in the car park, and realised I’d read it incorrectly. The bus didn’t stop here after 6pm during the summer, so I’d missed the last bus as well.

Sigh…

The sun was beginning to set, and I began thinking about what to do. Spend the night in Sistiana? Unfortunately that would mean missing my train to Brescia at 6am and also inconveniencing Alessandra and her brother, who were driving from Val Camonica to pick me up.

I went to ask one of the bartenders on the row, and at first my heart sank when he told me that there were definitely no buses from here to Trieste. However, he said that I could catch a bus every half hour from Sistiana—the town. I could get there by taxi or by walking up a long series of steps through the surrounding forested area.

Just great. Luckily it wasn’t sunny anymore, which although spared me climbing in the heat, meant I had to walk through trees in the fading light. Still, these areas can’t be too dangerous, right?!

After a ten minute climb, and having to cross a main road at one point, I arrived in Sistiana itself. The bus stop was just yards away. Almost the moment I got there, I saw the bus for Trieste arriving. Talk about a bit of good luck for a change!

Finally, I got back, shattered after a long, hot day, but full of activity!

Trieste to Val Camonica – Day 3 I left the house around 9am and followed the route to the Cattedrale di San Giusto. The other day I'd gotten a bit lost in this area, but this time had no trouble following the map to get to the castle.

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I left the flat around 8pm and walked to the bus station, which is next to the train station in Piazza Liberta, in the north of the city near the coast. It was a bit of a walk up, but only took about 20 minutes or so to get there. This time, I took the paper map with me. No more jumpy GPS location, no more disappearing street names, no more inaccurate directions. I’m probably sounding like a bit of a Luddite, but a good old paper map, combined with a few basic observations, feels a much more reliable way of navigating a new city than relying on your smartphone’s whims. Oh, and did I mention there’s no battery to run out? :-)

The bus station was a bit confusing, and it wasn’t actually clear where you were supposed to catch the buses. Right in the middle of Piazza Liberta, there were indeed a whole bunch of bus stops, but they were all for destinations inside Trieste. Asking one of the bus drivers for directions, I realised you actually have to go inside the building behind the railway station, which had a set of arched entrances that led to covered bus stops. The thing is, they didn’t look like public entrances at all.

The ticket to Capodistria cost only a few euros, and soon we were on our way. We left Trieste and eventually reached the Slovenian border. It was interesting seeing the sign for Slovenia, without any border post or guards anywhere. It was hard to imagine that only a few decades ago, there would have been heavy security along this frontier. Now, it felt like this border area was a gradual blend from Italy to Slovenia, with a mixture of both in between.

There were signs for Capodistria, which in Slovenian is called Koper. Indeed, the signs for many towns were both in Slovenian and Italian. It seems that Capodistria was once a mainly Italian city, but that the Italian inhabitants left after the Second World War.

The bus and train station was on the outskirts of the town, and I had to walk along a busy road (in the heat) to get to the centre. The latter was surrounded by its original walls, and was much like any small town in Italy. Indeed, if it hadn’t been for the Slovenian street names, it would have been difficult to tell that I was in another country.

There were lots of narrow streets, dotted with both locals and a small number of mainly Italian tourists. I suspect most people were indoors due to the heat, and it was hot! I sat down for an ice cream (can’t call it gelato here!) at a café near the seafront for a while. The waiter spoke both Slovenian and Italian to the customers, though I heard him also using English with some Germans. Clearly, quite a European mix of tourists here.

After exploring the streets a bit more, I decided to head back to Trieste–there wasn’t actually all that much to keep me for longer. I reckoned the best way to get back would be to head in the opposite direction from the sea, which would take me back to the outer wall. Unfortunately, I took a wrong turn somewhere and eventually found myself right back at the seafront where I started! I actually ended up walking past the café again. Typical…

Second time lucky, I reached the entrance through the wall and headed back onto the main roads. On the way, there was a large shopping mall with a ‘hypermarket’. I decided to pop in to get some bottled water for the bus trip back to Trieste, but also to check out what kind of food they generally sold. There was an entire refrigerated section devoted to different types of salami–I really should’ve taken a photo. There was a pasta aisle, but not quite as big as an Italian one.

I had to wait a bit for the bus back to Trieste, during which time I was accosted by a number of people trying to get money off me. Must’ve been my ‘tourist look’…

Back in Trieste, I walked from Piazza Liberta’ to Piazza Unita d’Italia, going down Via Roma, Via Carducci and Corso Italia, all full of shops and cafes. I wandered into a Feltrinelli bookshop and checked out the diaries (diario scholastico). I almost wish I was a kid again so I could get one of these!

It was nearly four o’clock now. I’d hoped to pop in to one or two estate agents but they were all closed for the afternoon. Seriously, do these guys ever work…?

Back home, I had a bite to eat and settled down for a late afternoon nap. I’d wanted to head out to watch the Italy v Spain match in a bar or café, but I felt very lazy and so decided to just watch it at home. Luckily, it was a great (and unexpected) win for Italy (2-0!). I then watched the England v Iceland match, which ended in disaster for England, losing to Iceland 2-1 and crashing out of the competition (as usual).

I might head out again in a while. Unfortunately, as I’ve realised on previous trips, if you stay somewhere far away from the centre (or vibrant parts of town), you end up making it difficult for yourself to just pop out for a bit.

Trieste to Val Camonica – Day 2 I left the flat around 8pm and walked to the bus station, which is next to the train station in Piazza Liberta, in the north of the city near the coast.

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It’s been a while since the last post as I’ve been busy with other writing and various other activities that unfortunately haven’t left much time for writing articles on Italy. I do hope to find more time for it though over the next few months.

Anyway, I’m writing this sat in a little apartment in my favourite Italian city of Trieste in Friuli-Venezia-Giulia. I’m here for a short break, but also to find out a bit about the local housing market, as I’m interested in buying an apartment to let out using Airbnb or something similar. I’d also like to be able to use it as a holiday home when I travel to Italy. Compared to London, the house prices are astonishing. You can get a decent, spacious apartment for around €50,000 or even lower. Don’t ask what you can get for the same price in London. Just don’t…

I’ll be in Trieste until Wednesday, after which I’ll be travelling to Brescia to meet up with my friend Alessandra. We’ll then be going once again to her native area of Val Camonica, where I’ll stay until Friday. There is apparently a public art installation on Lake Iseo called the ‘Floating Piers’ that lets people walk across the lake to reach some of the islands.

My journey started last night at Baker Street station in London. I was flying out from Stansted in the early morning, and had decided to catch a National Express coach from Baker Street to the airport. The coach was due to leave at 11:12pm from a stop at Gloucester Place, which is ‘down the road’ from the station. Giving myself about half an hour, and trusting my (ahem) excellent navigation skills, I assumed I’d get there in good time.

Think again. For the life of me, I couldn’t find Gloucester Place. It didn’t help that my smartphone’s screen has some kind of heat damage and doesn’t display clearly sometimes. The GPS was also going haywire. I clearly should stop relying on modern technology…anyway, I got to the correct stop a few minutes too late, and actually saw the Stansted coach as it went down the road. So annoying. I waited (in the rain) for the next one to arrive, and luckily the driver accepted my ticket, even though the 11:12 time was written on it.

Getting to Stansted, I waited overnight and took the 6:05pm flight to Trieste. For some reason, my ears became blocked during the flight due to the air pressure, something that’s never happened before. At one point, it even became painful, as if something was pressing down hard on my ears. It was actually interesting to see my half-empty plastic water bottle begin to crumple right in front of my eyes–clearly showing the air pressure difference.

I hoped that my ears would get back to normal when we landed, but they stayed the same way for another hour or so, only gradually unblocking, rather painfully, as I began to swallow food and pop my ears as often as I could. I’m going to have to do something to make sure it doesn’t happen again on the flight back, maybe by using some ear plugs or even putting on earphones.

In Trieste, it was raining, and raining hard. Certainly not what it said in the forecasts when I’d checked them the day before! No, I hadn’t brought an umbrella. I mean, seriously…

I caught a bus from the airport to Trieste, which took around an hour. It was interesting to see shop and road signs in both Italian and Slovenian (as I assumed). Not surprising given how close we are to the Slovenian border here.

My Airbnb hosts arrived and picked me up in their car, driving me to the apartment in the south of the city, away from the coast. It’s up on the fourth floor, the very top of the building. You enter into a small hallway that leads to a (according to the hosts) new bathroom, and the kitchen. From the kitchen, there’s a door leading to the bedroom.

My hosts spent some time giving me advice on where to go, and where I could eat out nearby. When I said I was thinking of visiting Slovenia, they suggested I go to see Capodistria rather than Gorizia (a town split between Italy and Slovenia) as apparently there’s more of interest there.

After unpacking, I headed out to the nearby supermarket (conveniently just down the road). I know I’m supposed to be on holiday so probably should just eat out all the time, but doing some regular shopping is (1) less expensive, and (2) more fun, especially as you feel like a local. Rare to see tourists in a supermarket here.

Outside, there was a searing heat, over 30 degrees, and I was glad to be inside the air-conditioned supermarket. I noticed the usual morning and afternoon opening hours, with the shop about to close. I always thought it was a bit strange that shops in Italy close in the middle of the day, but, with this heat, perhaps it does make some sense.

I picked up the items on my favourite Italian shopping list :-):

Frutta

Pasta

Cereali

Carne

Tonno

Mais

Acqua naturale

Caffe

Kinder fette al latte

Te al limone

Cornetti al cacao/crema

Biscotti (Mulino Bianco or similar)

Mortadella

Fette di pane

Fette biscottate

Latte

After having a bite to eat and a short nap, I decided to brave the heat and walk towards the city centre. If only I’d brought the map my hosts had left for me! The GPS on my phone was all over the place, not to mention the damaged screen being barely visible in the sunshine. It was inevitable that I’d get lost pretty quickly! Anyway, since I was in little hurry (!), I decided to just keep strolling ahead, and as long as I was going north, I’d eventually reach the coast.

I walked around the Cattedrale di San Giusto, which is situated on a hilltop, and, one way or another, emerged via the Via del Teatro Romano into the Piazza Unita d’Italia, a large and beautiful piazza right on the coast. Walking east, I reached the Canal Grande, near which is a statue of the Irish author James Joyce, who spent a lot of time in Trieste. After going back onto the promenade, I decided it was time for a well-deserved gelato! I then walked towards the church of San Spiridione.

There are plenty of restaurants and cafes around this area, and I had a hard time trying to pick one to spend the evening. In the end, I decided to walk back home and make my own dinner, leaving the dinner out for Tuesday. I spotted a few estate agents, but they were all shut (it is Sunday after all).

It was a long walk back down south along Via Oriani and Corso Umberto Saba (another famous Trieste writer). Back home, I made a dish out of pasta, tuna, sweetcorn, and peas, then settled down to watch some Italian TV. Euro 2016 is on now, and it was Hungary v Belgium tonight. The Rai 24 news channel seemed to be all about the recent UK vote to leave the European Union. It’s always amusing to see British news stories being covered in Italy, and all the English names being pronounced Italian-style!

Anyway, time for some sleep! Tomorrow morning, I’ll take my hosts’ advice and head to the Slovenian/Italian town of Capodistria, before exploring Trieste a bit more in the afternoon.

Trieste to Val Camonica – Day 1 It's been a while since the last post as I've been busy with other writing and various other activities that unfortunately haven't left much time for writing articles on Italy.

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Parma to Val Camonica - Wrap up

Parma to Val Camonica – Wrap up

We got up at 7am and got ready to leave. Alessandra and her mother were keen to leave as soon as possible, because if there was any traffic incident on the route out of the valley, there could be some bad delays. Apparently there is only one road out, and if it’s blocked, then you’re basically stuck if you’re going by car. (more…)

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We had breakfast on a table out on the balcony, the warm sun in charge of the day. I think I need to start visiting Italy in the winter, otherwise I’m going to end up thinking there’s nothing but sunshine in this country. Sitting outside, you could see nearby houses as well as the surrounding countryside–the vast cliffs of green marking the valley looming everywhere you looked.

After breakfast, we drove to Solzano, and took a ferry for a short hop–less than 5 mins–to Monteisola, an island at the south end of the Lago d’Iseo. This place is supposedly quite popular with Danish people, though I don’t think I spotted any while I was there! However, there were definitely more than a few foreigners on the island, unlike in Bienno or even Parma, that seem to draw only other Italians.

After a walk along the coastline, and a quick drink, we decided to look for a place to have lunch. We walked up a steep climb to a restaurant on a hill, only to learn from the waiter that the place was full. Great. Back down again it was! We finally settled on a no-frills looking place near the water, and sat down.

The waiter seemed a bit slow, to say the least, and it was ages until he bothered to turn up and ask us for our order. We asked him for a half-bottle of white wine, and arrived with a full bottle. What did he take us for? We had to send him away and ask him to bring us just a glass each. In the end, I don’t think I got a drink at all…

After lunch, we went to the tourist information office to find out the afternoon timetable for the ferry. Alessandra had an errand to run back at Solzano, and recommended that I go on ahead and visit the village of Lovere on the northern shore of the lake.

The ferry wasn’t due for another hour, so we had time for a gelato and some souvenir hunting. I picked up a tea towel with a map of the island, and a tiny ceramic jug shaped in the form of a cockerel.

Back on the water, my friend got off at Solzano whilst I continued on the journey north. It took nearly an hour and a half to get to Lovere, and I took the chance to close my eyes for a bit. I’d also run out of water, and was feeling more than a bit parched by the time I arrived.

Lovere is quite small, with only the one piazza. Just like Bienno, it is recognised as one of the most beautiful villages in Italy, and there was a sign proudly proclaiming this. I actually think Bienno is nicer, though possibly that’s because I’ve only seen it in the evening and while a festival is on. There was a mini children’s performance going on in the piazza when I arrived, and it was fun to watch the kids pretending to be rabbits! I really love the outdoor culture that you have so much in Italy, and the fact that the piazza is a real public space. There was a fountain in the middle where you could get drinking water. One thing I don’t exactly like is that there are never any signs that tell you if the water can be drunk or not. You either have to ask a local or wait and see if someone comes along to drink from it. Better the former than the latter though, as the poor chap who drinks from it might be a tourist themselves…

Getting a bit hungry, I bought a huge sugar covered brioche for €2–yummy! I also picked up a couple of packs of biscuits to take back home for work colleagues. I was running out of euros and couldn’t spot a cash machine anywhere. As Alessandra was going to be coming soon, I decided to hang around near the embankment and wait for her there.

Alessandra arrived at Lovere in her car, and we went back home to get refreshed, before going once again to Bienno. Last night I didn’t really get a chance to have a good look around some of the artisanal displays, so I was looking forward to seeing what was available, and hopefully not spending too much! We’ll see how that turned out…

There were all kinds of shops, including one stall that was selling swords and daggers with elaborate designs! There were sculptors, wine merchants, craftsmen, and indeed all manner of artists displaying amazing creations. There were lamps that looked like giant flowers made of rice paper, grasses planted in mini sections of tree trunks, wood carvings, engravings, and on and on.

We did a bit of wine tasting, and I ended up carrying round a plastic cup around town with my drink. Plastic cup. Wine. No way these things go together! Besides drinks, there were stalls selling beautifully decorated chocolates, sweets, and biscuits, including a colourful display of macarons.

I was pleasantly surprised to hear the sound of Celtic music coming from one of the streets. Arriving into the main piazza, there was another band playing. A lady briefly came out in front of the crowd and performed some Irish dancing. It was so surreal to see and hear an Irish music performance in this out-of-the-way Italian village!

The band then began to play a local tune, and we were treated to the spectacle of a procession of couples dressed in colourful medieval costumes. Afterwards, we once again headed to the outdoor seating area where there was going to be another performance. This time, there were two acrobats on stilts wearing enormous winged costumes, dancing on-stage to colourful lighting effects. Another great show.

We grabbed a panino at the large tent, and I learned a new word–‘salamella’, which sounds like something awful in English (!), but is really just a type of smoked sausage.

It was dark now, though the steep and narrow streets of Bienno were beautifully lit by small lamps fixed to the buildings. We headed out again to look at some of the exhibitors. There was one artist whose work just completely stole my attention–she painted fantasy figures from The Lord of the Rings and of her own invention. They were strikingly beautiful. Alessandra happened to have met the artist before, when her niece did some modelling for one of her pictures. I ended up spending €140 on two of the paintings (acrylic on canvas), which luckily you could roll up! I actually had to go downhill to the bank to get money out to pay for it. Talk about an impulse buy! I still don’t have any regrets though–the paintings are simply beautiful. Now I wonder how much the frames will cost back in London…

Before going off to the car, we milled about in the small food market and I bought some more biscuits to take back home.

Well, I can’t quite believe it’s almost all over! Off to Bergamo airport tomorrow and back to London, which feels like a world away.

Parma to Val Camonica – Day 5 We had breakfast on a table out on the balcony, the warm sun in charge of the day.

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I got up early to pack up and head out to the station, leaving the keys on the table as the landlady had requested. Back in the restaurant café, I was again attacked by those annoying flies–probably the same ones as yesterday, hmm. At one point, I felt a slight panic when I realised I couldn’t find my bag in the place I’d left it, only to realise I’d left it in front of the counter when paying for my espresso and brioche.

Unfortunately, I hadn’t managed to get a souvenir from Parma–there was apparently a place called Parma Point on Strada Garibaldi that sold souvenirs, but they don’t open until 9.30, so there was really no time for that.

There were a few options for getting to Verona, with different costs. The two main ones were that you could take the train to Bologna Centrale and then change trains to go to Verona, or first go to Suzzara, before changing to go to Mantova, then changing again to go Verona. This cost only around €9, as opposed to €30.

On the journey, I almost got off at the wrong stop, when I saw only part of the name of the station we were at. I’d hurriedly picked up my luggage and was about to get off, when I noticed that the station was “Luzzara” and not “Suzzara”–I’d only seen the “uzzara” bit!

Finally arriving at Verona station, I went out to the car park to meet my friend Alessandra. She lives in London as well, and is visiting her family in the Val Camonica area of Lombardy. She’d driven to Verona, where we’d decided to spend the day before heading back in the evening. The station was actually on the outskirts of the city, so we drove to the centre and left the car in a special car park. Instead of finding a parking spot yourself, you drive in, hand over your keys to the attendant and they take care of parking it. When you get back, they bring it out again, ready for you to drive off. Very convenient!

After a short walk, we entered the historical centre of Verona through the large city walls, and headed into a large piazza where we saw the famous Arena. This is where outdoor opera and music performances are held. The Festivalbar music show, which I used to watch on TV when I was living in Florence as a child, used to be held here.

A 10 minute walk took us to Juliet’s balcony, which was in a small courtyard packed with people posing for pictures outside this famous ‘landmark’. Yes, this is supposedly the place where Juliet–or the real-life equivalent on which she was based–stood while waiting for her Romeo to arrive. Sure, whatever. :-) The famous ‘wherefore art thou Romeo’ scene (by the by, it’s ‘wherefore’ and not ‘where’, but this isn’t the place to discuss Shakespeare!) would have taken place here. There was also a slightly ugly statue of Juliet in the courtyard, with one of her breasts being far shinier than the other. The reason for this is because it’s a tradition to touch the statue’s right breast for good luck. Indeed, there were people having their pictures taken doing just that. Both men and women, in case you’re wondering…

I picked up some postcards and souvenirs in the shop in the courtyard, before heading out to the Arena’s piazza and stopping for a drink. Ah, some shade from the sun! There was also a mini market in the centre of the piazza selling food, leather goods and various other items. We browsed this for a while, before going off to see the Duomo in one of the other piazzas.

As often happens on these trips, my mobile phone battery began to get very low, and unfortunately I’d forgotten to charge up the portable charger–so much for carrying that around! So I wasn’t able to take as many photos in Verona as I’d have liked. I’d also left my wallet back in the car, so I couldn’t withdraw any cash and had to rely on my friend to pay for everything. ;-) There still seem to be many places in Italy where it’s still cash-only, and it can be hard to get by without a good stash on you at all times.

We headed into the side streets from the Piazza del Duomo to catch a bit of respite from the sun, and stopped for a quick gelato. Afterwards, we went into a large bookshop that had pretty much everything on sale. I was keen to pick up an Italian cookbook with dessert recipes, and I was pleasantly surprised to find a heavy A-Z of ‘torti e dolci italiani’. It was only €9, but in the end I decided against weighing up my luggage too much. (I also have far too many books at home, and the Internet makes these sorts of books a bit less useful than they might have been in the past.)

We then popped into a Bialetti shop, and I asked the assistant about the pot I’d bought. She said I had to make sure I’d put in the right amount of water and also that the type of coffee I should use had to be more ‘robusta’ than ‘arabica’. These are the two main types of coffee bean species, with ‘robusta’ being more sturdy and with a higher concentration of caffeine than ‘arabica’. Many of the ground espresso coffee packs sold (like Lavazza) have different combinations of both types of bean. When I checked later on, the pack I’d bought in Parma (and failed with) had actually been 30% arabica and 70% robusta, pretty much what the assistant ordered. Still a mystery, then.

It was getting ever hotter, and we decided it was probably time to start the journey to Val Camonica, so we could have time to rest for a bit before an evening out. We headed out onto the autostrada–motorway, or highway–the first time I’d been on them in Italy. I think next time I’m here, I’ll hire a car, perhaps in town, and learn to drive on the ‘wrong’ side of the road, i.e. on the right-hand side. It can be so confusing, especially with roundabouts. We headed in the direction of Brescia, then passed through several tunnels–cut through the mountains–to reach Val Camonica. What with the large hillsides jutting all around us as we drove through the bottom of the valley, I couldn’t help feeling we were going somewhere a bit isolated.

Alessandra’s house is in a place called Esine, a commune in the Provincia di Bresica. Really, this place feels like deepest Lombardia. I wonder how many of the people here are direct descendants of the Germanic Lombards who settled this region back in the 6-7th centuries. Then again, there are people here whose physiognomy is typical of Celtic areas in Northern Europe–a few of the people I met were almost classically Scottish in appearance. Italy generally is a very mixed country with regard to ethnic origin–its position as the heartland of the Roman Empire meant that people from all over Europe, as well as the Middle East and North Africa came and settled here.

After driving for almost two hours, we arrived at the house and were greeted by Alessandra’s mother, who also lives there. The top floor of the house has a long balcony that looks out onto some spectacular views of the surrounding countryside.

Alessandra’s mother was curious to try out my new moka pot, but it didn’t work for her either. Clearly, something is up with this thing!

After a shower and a rest, we headed out again in the car and picked up my friend’s sister and kids, before travelling to Bienno, a nearby medieval village and apparently known as one of the most beautiful in Italy. There is an annual arts and crafts festival on at the moment, with artisans from all over Italy coming here to show their wares. The sheer amount of creativity in this country is just unbelievable sometimes.

The only people who are allowed to drive into Bienno are apparently those with a permit, presumably only for residents or their families. As we approached the village, a traffic warden stopped the car and checked that we had the document displayed in the window before allowing us to go in. The village itself feels genuinely medieval, with probably all of the buildings dating from that era. There was even a watermill powered by a mountain stream that flowed into the village. The mill itself was working and still produced flour, which you could buy in a nearby shop.

After a short walk, we went to a large gazebo with long tables where they served food–a bit like being at Oktoberfest, but without the fancy costumes! Many of Alessandra’s family members were there, and it was nice to talk a little with them, often about food. So Italian. :-) They also confirmed that it’s hard to get around easily in this area if you don’t have a car. Public transport is never great in Italy as it is, and when you get to this sort of isolated area, then cars are really your only option.

I’ve been thinking of buying a small apartment in Italy, either to let out or use myself as a holiday home–depending on prices and circumstances–and I was given all kinds of suggestions as to what I should buy in this area. Although I really like it here, it still feels a little isolated, and I’m not sure it’s very well known to British tourists either. However, there are apparently many Scandinavian people who visit the area frequently and have holiday homes on an island called Monteisola on the Lago d’Iseo, the nearby lake in Val Camonica. I guess I need to do a bit more research before deciding.

After dinner, we walked to the main piazza of Bienno, where there was a tango orchestra playing. Fantastic! Unfortunately, there were no professional dancers, and very few of the audience actually started to dance either. I don’t think that was really the intention of the event as such though. Alessandra was keen to learn a few steps and at one point I became an unofficial tango teacher in one of the side piazzas (‘piazetta’), getting the curious attention of passers-by!

We stopped off for a quick coffee, before going to see some kind of outdoor performance at the bottom of the town (sounds so funny writing that). No one seemed to actually know what it was, and we ended up waiting for over half an hour. There was a restless little boy sitting in front of me, who was snapping away with his camera. At one point, he casually turned it to me and started taking photos. I obliged with as many faces as I could make! His mother just looked on and smiled.

In the end, the wait was worth it. Three dancers came on with flexible water pipes covering their bodies. As they began their performance, water shot out of them, with the spray fanning out and flying high into the air, occasionally splashing down onto the audience. The water combined with the colourful backlighting to create some pretty spectacular effects.

After the show ended–and it was really brief–Alessandra and I went back out in the car, out of Bienno, and met up with some of her friends from the area. We eventually got back to Esine around 2am for some well-deserved shuteye.

This morning, we head to Lago d’Iseo.

Parma to Val Camonica – Day 4 I got up early to pack up and head out to the station, leaving the keys on the table as the landlady had requested.

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Getting up around 6am, I got ready and headed out towards the station. The next train to La Spezia, luckily a direct one, left at around 8am and arrived around 10am. While waiting for the my train, I went to get a coffee and croissant (cornetto!) at the railways station’s café. This one had a ticketing system, where you pay for what you’ve ordered at the counter, then take the receipt over to another counter and get your food. The funny thing was that the guy at the second counter didn’t even bother to check, but just asked me what I wanted (a coffee, as it happens).

The table where I sat kept being attacked by a group of flies, who seemed to enjoy perching themselves at random points on my body and just being a general nuisance. I think it was because of the light directly above.

The journey to La Spezia was pleasant enough, heading out of Emilia-Romagna and into Liguria, all the way down to the coast. Arriving at the station, I went to look for the toilets. There was a lady sitting outside collecting 70 cents from everyone who wanted to use them. I always find that so irritating, though luckily I had a few coins with me. I wonder what she would’ve said if I’d tried to pay using American Express. :-)

My friend Sarah’s train from Florence was delayed, so I headed out to take a wander instead of just waiting in the overcrowded station. There was beautiful architecture in La Spezia, many of which have almost a French feel to them. Pretty much every apartment block had its own special design, with ornate balconies and windows. Really beautiful, and with different colours as well.

Back at the station, Sarah arrived and dropped off her suitcase at the left luggage office–she’s on her way to Riomaggiore (one of the Cinque Terre) and we’d decided to spend the day in La Spezia, and maybe take a boat to somewhere else nearby.

We decided to follow the signs for the harbour and check the timetables of the ferries. On the way, we wandered into the large market, which had countless stalls selling a huge range of fresh fruit, vegetables, meat and fish, as well as the usual stalls selling groceries, cleaning products and other bits and pieces. I always find it slightly bizzarre when you get an outdoor market stall that looks like a (slightly untidy) supermarket shelf. The thing with so much choice is that it’s hard to know what to buy, and so you end up getting nothing at all…or far too much! In the end, I bought a pack of apples to have on the way.

After a brief walk out of the market, we reached the harbour. It was great to see the sparkling blue sea of the Ligurian coast again, and we decided to find out if we could head out on the ferry, perhaps after having lunch in La Spezia. According to the timetable, you could buy an afternoon ticket that would stop at a place called Portovenere and then onto each of the Cinque Terre, starting from Riomaggiore. You could then catch a boat to return to La Spezia later in the afternoon. The timetable was very flexible (though also very confusing!) and allowed you the choice of leaving the boat to explore one of the stops and then catching another boat later, or staying on the boat and heading to the destination of your choice. I guess it makes sense thinking about it now–it works like any public transport system, except the trips in the other direction (back to La Spezia) only begin at a certain time.

As it happened, the next boat was leaving in around half an hour and we decided to just buy tickets and go right away. After about half an hour, we disembarked at Portovenere and had two hours to explore the place and have lunch before the boat arrived again. There was a tiny ‘beach’ and lots of large flat boulders on which people lay sunbathing. The harbour was dotted with restaurants mainly serving seafood, with two and three storey buildings in bright colours rising above them. A typical picturesque Ligurian village scene.

Climbing up a hillside, we arrived at a semi-ruined church that had some amazing views of the sea. The sun was burning here and it was getting very hot. There was an arched opening in one of the ruined walls along the cliff, which provided a perfect photo opportunity.

We stopped for lunch at one of the restaurants along the seafront. I had prosciutto with melon–always a refreshing favourite–and scampi. The scampi arrived whole, as did Sarah’s king prawns. It’s funny that as much as I like Italy, I’m not entirely enamoured with much of the food (well, apart from the desserts). Too much cheese and seafood, neither of which I particularly enjoy.

Anyway, enough of my gripes… :-)

Back on the boat, we stopped off at Riomaggiore, which was actually where Sarah was going to be staying later. She’d have to come back by taxi from La Spezia after picking up her luggage from the station. To reach the actual ‘centre’ of the village, you had to walk up a steep steps, and in fact one ‘street’ was basically an alleyway through a building. It was good to have some momentary shade though! There was a shop there selling (or maybe renting out) diving equipment, and if I’d had more time there, I would definitely have tried this out. So much for day trips!

The whole place was very steep and it felt very good to be able to sit down for a gelato in some shade! I had a lemon and pistachio ice cream, which probably started to melt almost as soon as the assistant had filled the cup!

Sarah had to get back to La Spezia to pick up her luggage, as she had to check in before 8pm. So we returned to the bottom of the cliff to wait for the boat. It was delayed, and as we couldn’t see it anywhere in the distance, I decided to pop back to and try to pick up a small souvenir. Well, popping back meant a hard walk in the sun up the steps to the village. It wasn’t actually that far at all, but when you’re sweating and thirsty, and the sun is overhead, climbing up steps and a steep road has a habit of making time go slower!

I realised I only had a few coins left on me, so I looked for the cheapest item I could find–in the end I bought a nice little fridge magnet for €3. While I was there, I decided to also get a can of Coke to take back for the boat ride. By the by, I like these tall drink cans they have in Europe–the ones we have in the UK are shorter and wider. As I went into the queue to pay for the items, Sarah texted to say that the boat was arriving! Panic! There was a couple in front of me who were haggling about something or other, and I began to think I should just leave the can and run back. As it happened, I managed to pay for the precious drink before tearing downhill as fast as I could, dodging the crowd coming the other way.

The boat had indeed arrived when I got back, though luckily boarding hadn’t started yet.

Sarah said I fell asleep for a bit on the way back, and indeed I really was quite tired, having gotten up so early and generally having had so little sleep over the last few days. Bah, who needs sleep while on holiday? Time enough for that back home! ;-) As we drew near to La Spezia, I went out on deck and felt the spray from the water hit my face. Such a great feeling being out on the water. The sun isn’t so bad when tempered with a splash or two, and a cool sea breeze!

Disembarking, we walked all the way back to the train station by following the Via XX Settembre, a curiously long and winding road. Sarah picked up her luggage and caught a taxi to take her to her hotel, back near Riomaggiore.

My own train for Parma wasn’t due to leave for another hour and a half. With time to spare, I decided to have a wander in La Spezia town centre, and pick up another souvenir and some supplies for the train journey. I tried looking for a cash machine, but not a single one was in sight. I walked and walked down a long shopping street, getting annoyed that such a place shouldn’t have a single cash machine.

Eventually, I reached another piazza and spotted a bank. By the way, it’s interesting how in Italy almost every town and city seems to have its own bank. In the UK, there are only a handful of large national banks, and very few local ones have survived the mergers and takeovers of the last few decades.

Why am I thinking about banks…?!

On the way back up the street, I stopped at one of the shops selling La Spezia and Cinque Terre souvenirs. While looking in the window, I noticed someone waiting nearby, and had a pang of recognition. He was looking towards me as well, and I couldn’t help ask him if we knew each other (“Ci conosciamo?”). Sure enough, we’d met briefly a few times at some Italian social events in London. Small world, indeed. He was also waiting for his train, and we spent about half an hour chatting about our trips. He was English, of Italian origin, and had some family nearby that he was visiting. He told me that apparently the Cinque Terre became famous only when the American travel writer Rick Steves popularised them.

Saying goodbye to my unexpected acquaintance, I bought another fridge magnet (I’ve got three now!) and some water. The journey back to Parma seemed longer than the one in the morning, though in all probability it lasted exactly the same.

Arriving at Parma, it was around 10 o’clock, and I was a bit loathe to return to the apartment right away. It was my last night in Parma, after all, and I decided to head to Piazza Garibaldi and have dinner at one of the restaurants there. I went into a place called Duchessa and ordered my favouite pizzza, the Diavola–the one with tomato, mozzarella and salame piccante.

Afterwards, I took a final walk in the Piazza del Duomo before heading back to the apartment. When I got in, I noticed that the landlady had arrived and done all the washing up. I’d messaged her last night to tell her about the water and the Internet problems, and she’d said she would come by today to check it out. It was slightly embarrassing because I’d made the coffee mess all over the stovetop, and would have rather cleaned it up myself. Oh well, who doesn’t want to be saved the need to wash up?!

Tomorrow morning, time to pack up and be off to the city of Romeo and Juliet!

Parma to Val Camonica – Day 3 Getting up around 6am, I got ready and headed out towards the station. The next train to La Spezia, luckily a direct one, left at around 8am and arrived around 10am.

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While brushing my teeth in the morning, I noticed the water in the sink turned a bit orange/brown, before becoming clear again. Scary. I wondered if it was just a trick of the light, but then it happened again, this time for longer. Worrying, indeed. I turned off the tap and turned it back again, and the water clear once more. I decided to mention it to the landlady later on.

After getting ready, I had another bash at the moka pot. Again, not a hint of coffee. I figured it might be an idea to buy some coffee of my own later on and try it again in the evening. In any case, I want to take back a few packs of good Italian coffee, even though, admittedly, you can buy most of them (Lavazza, etc) in UK supermarkets these days.

Another slight annoyance in the apartment is that the Internet connection doesn’t work, so I’ve had to resort to using my smartphone’s data plan. Another thing to mention to the owner.

Outside the apartment, it was bright and sunny. There was a lady with a pram near the front door, and I instinctively said “Buongiorno,” without waiting for her to say it first. It would just feel wrong to walk on by without acknowledging her. Funny how I would never have thought to do that in London.

I walked down to the Piazza del Pilotta, and then further south onto the long Strada Giuseppe Garibaldi. By the way, I’ve noted the street names here are often called “Strada” and “Borgo” as well as “Via.” My favourite one is the road that leads directly from the apartment towards the Palazzo della Pilotta, called Strada del ‘Parmigianino’ (Road of the Little Parmesan)!

I walked all the way to the Parco della Citadella in the south, and went for a short walk in the park. The sun was directly overhead now and very hot. I noticed some people drinking water out of a public fountain and went to help myself as well, though it’s hard to take a drink without splashing yourself in the meantime!

Back to Strada Farini, I went to the Feltrinelli bookshop for a browse–it’s interesting in that it’s a mixed bookshop and café, a format that’s catching on in London as well. Though I enjoy reading novels, I’ve always found original Italian fiction a bit hard to get into, perhaps on account of the more descriptive and introspective style that seems to be prominent.

Leaving the bookshop, I bought a lemon gelato from Gelato Grom just down the road, a great chain that has shops all over Italy, certainly in the north at least. Most people seemed to take their gelatos out, but I decided to sit down in one of the small tables, and cool down a little bit extra.

Deciding to head back to the apartment for some lunch, I popped into a supermarket to pick up some packs of coffee and biscuits. Of course, I tried out the moka pot again as soon as I got in. Guess what…still no coffee. I’m beginning to think I just bought a faulty model–it was the last box on the shelf in the store (called Coin, on Strada Mazzini, just off Piazza Garibaldi).

Back out to the Piazza del Duomo, I stopped off at Café Cavour for an espresso from the professionals. It’s funny how there are so many different ways to pay. Here, the waitress brought me a receipt listing everything I’d bought that I had to take indoors and give it to the guy behind the counter, who totalled it up to me and gave me the final bill. I wonder if this is so they can inflate the prices for tourists. Or maybe I’m being cynical… :-O

Afterwards, I did a little clothes shopping and picked up a few new shirts. There are lots of boutique clothes shops, for both men and women, as well as larger stores, including ones known in the UK as well, such as Zara. There aren’t many souvenir shops, funnily enough, though I’ve seen one tabaccheria that has a handful of items in their shop window. Clearly, Parma, just like Ancona last time, isn’t a particularly hot tourist destination. Still, I went into a novelty store and bought a limoncello fridge magnet–one of the fun series of fridge magnets, sold all over Italy, that look like tiny tins or boxes of food.

I’d previously thought of going north to the railway station to check the timetables for the early morning trains to La Spezia, but in the end it was far easier to just look it up on the phone! Ah, the blessings of modern technology…

Back at the flat, I decided to continue the saga of the moka pot, and this time leave it to brew for much longer. After about fifteen minutes, there was still no coffee, but I left it still. Twenty minutes…and then suddenly there was a gurgling sound and coffee came shooting out through the filter, through the open top and onto the stovetop with a giant splash! I hurriedly turned off the gas, and let the pot hiss and spew for a while longer like a small animal that had been disturbed. Funnily enough, the pot (coffee creature?!) was now full of coffee, though without the precious crema. It tasted OK enough, though definitely not worth the price of having to clean up a mess!

I cooked a small pasta dish, before going back out again for an after-dinner walk down to the Piazza del Duomo. Looking on at the medieval buildings, I realised that the scene I was looking on must have barely changed in hundreds of years. That’s something that’s true of many Italian towns and cities.

Seeing as I still hadn’t had a proper restaurant dinner, I decided to stop at one of the restaurants in the narrow streets just off the piazza. I had a tagliatelle and crab dish at a place called Forchetta. For some reason, the waiter started talking in English with me almost right away–he was horrified when I asked him “Ma perche’ inglese?” His excuse was that he’d been spending the last two weeks speaking English, though he didn’t say why. I think he’d noticed my striped polo shirt, which practically no-one wears in Italy.

Tomorrow morning, off to La Spezia bright and early!

Parma to Val Camonica – Day 2 While brushing my teeth in the morning, I noticed the water in the sink turned a bit orange/brown, before becoming clear again.

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The hours until 8am passed reasonably quickly. I spent the first three hours or so in this French-style bar, until the security gates opened. Before I went in, I of course went through the routine of taking out all of the ‘liquids’ in my bag and putting them in a clear plastic bag to show at security. As I went through the x-ray scanner, the beep went (don’t we all dread that!), and I was asked to take off my shoes and undergo a body check. The security guy mumbled something while he was doing it, and then, a few seconds later, in a louder voice, asked me to “Just say no.” Then I realised he’d been talking to me earlier and asking me if I had any metal objects on me. Ah, the downside of staying awake too long!

Just when I thought all was clear, I noticed my bag had gone into the second conveyer belt, to be examined by the security staff. What now? Last time, in Ancona airport, they’d flagged up the scissors in the first aid kit. Was it the same thing again?

I had to wait and wait until my turn arrived. A group of young Italians had their bags examined, and it turned out they hadn’t bothered to pack their liquids correctly. I mean, come on. The security guard chastised them for wasting their own time by not paying attention to the rules. Then, my turn. Sure enough, the lady opened up the first aid kit, but it wasn’t the scissors she was after. Instead, she fished out the tube of antiseptic cream! Funny how this was the first time anyone had picked this up! Oh, but they missed the case of razor blades which the guy at Ancona had complained about, and they also missed the tiny cologne spray. This all goes to show just how hit and miss these security checks can be.

Finally through security, I went to the departures lounge and sat down for the next part of the long wait. I went into WHSmith to purchase some magazines and healthy travel sweets (well, OK, jelly babies and fruit pastilles…). When paying for them at the self-service checkout, you had to scan your boarding pass, which I had on my smartphone. It had worked fine at the entrance to the security area, but this scanner refused to pick up the barcode. There was an American lady at the till next to me, and she noticed me struggling. Playing to national stereotypes (which she freely admitted, by the way!), she shouted out to the staff that some help was needed.

The hours passed slowly, and at one point I became really tired, and probably could’ve fallen asleep in my seat if I’d allowed myself. I think at one point I entered that grey zone between being wide awake and fully asleep, and stayed there until it was time to head to the gate. Once on the plane, I went back into the grey zone and had my eyes closed more or less until we were about to land in Parma.

At the airport, I caught a taxi straight to the apartment I’ve booked through Airbnb. When we got to the street, the driver got confused and said he couldn’t find the number I’d told him. I decided it’d be easier if I just walked down the street and found it myself, so I asked him to just drop me off when he could. Funnily enough, I realised he was right and the number wasn’t there. Worrying I’d got something wrong, I checked the address on my phone. Well, what do you know–I’d switched the digits of the number!

Hmm, second strike against staying awake too long!

Anyway, I found the right apartment door and waited for the landlady to arrive at noon. She showed me into the flat, which is on the first floor, and handed me the keys. She explained a bit about Parma, and the various places to head to. Basically, the city is quite small and it’s easy to just get around on foot. It’s divided into four general parts: the historic ‘centre’ in the north west, a more residential area in the north east dominated by a large park (the Parco Ducale), another residential area in the south east, and a mixed area in the south west, marked out by the Parco della Citadella, a pentagonal shaped walled public park. She explained quite a bit about the city’s history, including an interesting episode about the French wife of the Duke, who had Parisian style bridges and buildings constructed so she could feel more at home!

Ah yes, bridges. I hadn’t realised a river ran through Parma, and I asked the landlady about this. She explained that there wasn’t really a river, but a ‘torrente’ that passed through the city in autumn and winter, but dried up in summer.

After she left, I took a shower and had a change of clothes, before heading out to explore the area. Thankfully, the apartment is very near the city centre–about 10 minutes walk–which makes it very convenient to pop out and come back in again to drop off shopping or catch a quick rest.

It was now around 2 o’clock and it was really hot outside, though not in too uncomfortable a way. I visited the Piazza del Duomo and saw the cathedral and the baptistery (battistero)–both 12th century era. I then headed to the large Piazza Garibaldi, which has the town hall (Palazzo del Municipio) and the old governor’s palace (Palazzo del Governatore). There are plenty of good shops and restaurants here as well.

Shops–there are definitely plenty of small ones along the streets that lead to the various piazzas. Generally, I think Italy still has far more small shops–be they cafes and tabaccherias, or fashion boutiques–than we now have in the UK.

I noticed plenty of people cycling, and indeed there is generally little traffic here in Parma, though this may be due to the fact that it is August! There is a cycle hire scheme in place, though you need a special card of some sort. I wish they’d make it easier to use these sorts of things–with the one in London, all you need is a credit card.

I spotted a supermarket along the way, and couldn’t resist heading in to buy my favourite Italian goodies, and also to catch a respite from the overhead sun! I dropped off the bag at home and had a quick panino, before heading back out and walking east.

I arrived at a bridge, and was totally surprised at what I saw flowing underneath it. Nothing. Not a drop of water to be seen anyone, just a wide space full of greenery and some white rocks. A bit surreal, really. I guess some water must flow along here later in the year.

On the way back, I popped into a small department store and bought a new moka pot. Now, I already have one at home, but this is supposedly a special model that actually produces crema–the creamy light brown layer that you get on top of a good espresso. The normal moka pot wouldn’t produce this, and I was interested to try it out.

Back in the apartment, I immediately filled up the pot with water and some coffee I found in the cupboard. Minutes passed, and not a pip from the pot. Very odd. Gradually, I noticed some water coming out from the sides, which is worrying. After fifteen minutes and plenty of stream shooting out, I turned off the gas. Hmm.

A second attempt and still nothing. Not a drop of coffee came out from the filter. Maybe it’s a dodgy model, or there’s something wrong with this coffee. I think tomorrow I’ll buy my own and try again.

After making myself some pasta and tuna, I caught some rest and then headed back out for a late after dinner stroll. There are many street lamps here fixed to the walls of buildings, as well as the more common ones on poles. I walked down to the Piazza del Duomo, which was much quieter now, dotted only by a few people chatting on the steps of the cathedral, and a couple of families out for a walk. I really like these kinds of calm late evenings in the piazza–they’re so relaxing.

Further onto Piazza Garibaldi, the city came back to life with lots of people out in the cafes and bars. I got back just around 1am, and turned in to a good night’s sleep!

Parma to Val Camonica – Day 1 The hours until 8am passed reasonably quickly. I spent the first three hours or so in this French-style bar, until the security gates opened.

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Parma to Val Camonica - Day 0

Parma to Val Camonica – Day 0

Well here I am again at Stansted Airport ready to while away the wee hours before my early morning flight to Parma. I’m heading off for a five day trip in northern Italy, taking in Parma, La Spezia, Verona, and the valley region of Val Camonica near Brescia. (more…)

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Limoncello

Limoncello. From Flickr During a conversation with an Italian friend the other day, the subject of limoncello came up. By the by, it’s curious how often Italians will end up talking about food or drink–it’s like an Italian version of Godwin’s Law–if a conversation goes on for long enough, someone will mention their favourite pasta sauce. But I digress! I mentioned how I like to drink limoncello…

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Limoncello and Tonic: Limoncello, Tonic Water

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My Perfect 3-Ingredient Summer Drink: Limoncello Gin Cocktail — The 10-Minute Happy Hour

Recently friends of ours got married in a remote, a.k.a. no cell service, Catskill's resort. This resulted in a long overdue trek through New York's Hudson Valley. We hadn't been back in those parts since I graduated from The Culinary Institute of America in 1999. The long weekend road trip right on the heels of a late spring heatwave and a tiny bottle of homemade Limoncello became the inspiration for this week's 10-Minute Happy Hour.

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Police Profusion

The Police

Is it just me, or does Italy seem to be full of police? Almost everywhere you go, especially in the bigger cities, you will see what looks like an panoply of police forces of varying name and uniform. Coming from the UK, where police presence tends to be far more discreet, it is curious to see that a seemingly peaceful country like Italy feels the need for so much uniformed presence on the…

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Meeting? What meeting?

I was talking to an Italian friend and explaining how I was conducting a job interview for some new graduates at our office. I used the word ‘intervista’ to describe this–which, as I was rapidly pointed out, is of course incorrect. Indeed, ‘intervista’ is a classic example of a false friend, i.e. a word that sounds like a word in your native language but has an entirely different meaning in the…

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Genova

Genova

Il Faro di Genova

Genova

Genova

Genova

Ricordo ai caduti, Il Faro, Genova

Genova

Genova

Statua di Cristoforo Colombo, Genova

Genova

This is a retrospective account in diary form of a trip I took in 2013, based on memory and my notes from the time.

Sunday, 16 June 2013

I stayed till late in the restaurant, almost not wanting to leave. It was quite small, but had great lighting and a small shelf of travel books opposite me. A group of people were sitting at a nearby table and chatting merrily–it looked like they knew the staff in the restaurant quite well. Ah, these locals. :-) Eventually, I left just after 10pm and strolled downhill amongst the narrow streets, and eventually reached the marina. There were lots of people out and about now, and it was really lively.

I popped back home to drop off my new bag and rest a bit–but not too long! Shorn of my day’s baggage, I went out again to the Porto Antico to sample the nightlife. This is the great thing about staying at a convenient spot where it’s easy to just go in and out whenever you want. There was a large event on in the piazza–a kind of North African cultural festival from which the sound of loud music was coming. Now, I’m not really into that sort of thing but decided to drop by later and check it out. I always have such trouble deciding which bar to go into! Some of them seemed empty or had only a few people in it who seemed to also know the barman (I find those so annoying).

I saw a sign for a shopping centre of some kind, and decided to see if I could find it. I walked and walked, but to no avail. Yet another one of those signs in Italy that seem to lead to nowhere. I stopped off for a late night snack at one of those bar/cafes that seem to serve a mix of alcoholic drinks, coffee, ice cream, and pastries. I don’t think I’ve ever been somewhere in Italy where they just serve alcohol, like a proper bar. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy the difference, but somehow I have trouble associating ice cream with nightlife. I noticed groups of young people walking around eating gelato in the piazza–so amusing!

I had thought of staying up till the wee hours, but eventually decided to go home again and get some proper sleep.

This morning, I decided to go shopping at a supermarket and then do a spot of cooking later on. I really like supermarkets in Italy, what with their aisles full of endless varieties of pasta, bread, biscuits and pastries, not to mention all the cooked and raw meats. Oh, and I can’t wait to buy a pack of Kinder milk bars (fette al latte)! I used to love those when I lived in Florence as a child, and can’t wait to try some again!

As I passed a marble statue of Christopher Columbus, I realised that the great explorer had in fact come from Genoa, before entering the service of the Spanish crown. This city had once been a great maritime power, a rival to Venice. In fact, on the standard of the Italian navy, there are four coats of arms–one for each of the four original Italian maritime republics of Venice, Genoa, Pisa and Amalfi. By the way, I’ve noticed the St George’s Cross flying from municipal buildings–at first I wondered why the Genoese are using the English flag (!), but I suppose it’s not impossible that St George is also the patron saint of Genoa. I’ll have to look this up…

I found the location of the supermarket on the map, and it was conveniently not far from the famous Genoa lighthouse, La Lanterna. Starting off on the walk in the bright sunshine, it took ages to find this place. I ended up in a very industrial area, though I could see the old lighthouse jutting out in the distance. Funny how there tend to be so few tall buildings in Italy. What’s wrong with a garish glass building or two?! :-) Eventually, I found the COOP hypermarket (ipermercato–I love this word), not far from the lighthouse. The lighthouse itself could be reached by going up this long, winding metal bridge–it took an absolute age to walk up it. The view wasn’t all that spectacular either–I was basically looking across at the docks, where cargo was being shifted.

Affixed at the bottom of the lighthouse was a memorial to British soldiers who has died in June 1945 trying to defuse sea mines laid by German forces in Genoa’s harbour. I always find it interesting learning about British-Italian connections, and this one really made me reflect. Even very recently, we have had British forces dying trying to defuse explosives in a foreign land. Duty calls, I suppose. The seriousness of the memorial aside, it was a nice challenge trying to make sense of the date in Roman numerals.

I took the endless walk back to the supermarket, and went in to do some shopping. While at the milk aisle, I was asked by a German (I think?) man in English if I could recommend what type of milk to buy–yes seriously, or at least that’s what I understood! Anyway, I got a bit carried away with filling up the trolley, almost forgetting I had to drag everything back to the apartment!

I ended up with two heavy plastic blags (I had to buy those special thick ones), which I then had to carry in the heat all the way to the nearest tube (sorry, metro!) station. Luckily, there was really good air conditioning in there and I cooled down pretty quickly. Why can’t we have this in London? It’s also convenient that there is a metro stop at the marina, which means I didn’t have far to walk to get back home. Hey, it’s such fun to call it ‘home’, rather than ‘the hotel’!

After dropping off the shopping, I headed out again and had a casual walk around the city centre through the late afternoon, visiting Piazza De Ferrari, Corso Italia, Piazza Dante, and Piazza delle Erbe. Back home, the chatty guy was in the kitchen, so I had to wait for him to finish with it before I had my turn. Fortunately, I wasn’t disturbed and managed to cook my pasta dish. I took my plate back to my room and sat down to eat at the little desk. After coffee, I’ll head out again for a final night in Genoa. My flight to Rome is at 10am tomorrow.

Musn’t stay up too late!

Paris to Rome - Day 4 This is a retrospective account in diary form of a trip I took in 2013, based on memory and my notes from the time.

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