I seem to be having loads of Torino hints in front of me. That’s so odd.
If I were superstitious…
I had bloodwork on Thursday morning. Once upon a time they told us the old doctor’s office would be renovated or built over with a new office but this never happened. The offices are in such a drab old building and the interior isn’t all that much different, but there’s a lot of new technology. Maybe one day they’ll rebuild it. Meanwhile, the phlebotomist is the nice one, and not the mean one, so that’s a very good thing!
Opposite the doctors is an imposing 30s style building[/caption>
Things went really smoothly for leaving Turin. The cab showed up exactly as we got downstairs with our luggage, the train came on time, and our seats were great! This time first class felt a lot more like first class. Don’t know what happened the last time.
Anyway, the seats were comfy and we had our first forward facing seats of all our bookings (all requested that way but none except this delivered) Toilet is still disgusting. I think they must use a septic tank method. Not sure. Even the plugs were accessible and working. I watched two movies and then my battery died. Both fluffy and forgettable.
Oh and the scenery was gorgeous. Low and higher mountains (the Alps) usually draped with clouds at several levels, and snow covered (see the videos at the bottom). None of my photos do it justice, with the reflecting train lights etc. I thought, as I sat on that train, if I couldn’t have a sea or river view, I’d choose mountains.
Paris was another story. Arrival was on time and it was looking good until we tried to get down to the RER level so that we could get to Gare du Nord. The down escalator was broken. I suppose they opted to keep the only working one as the up, and I get that but when you have two heavy suitcases and a carry on, even down is a real challenge.
First I, then Krish, tried to find an elevator – no luck. It was a long way down with a landing in the middle. No choice but for Krish to bring each large case down in turn, me carrying the not-so-light carry on plus my CPAP and bags. Once down there we then had to get into the metro for the RER and again, there was no working escalator and no elevator anywhere. This time Krish had to bring each case down three levels. How the very elderly or disabled would manage it I have no idea. Never anyone around to ask questions of either. This seems common all over Italy and France, no station staff…
After that, all went well. Krish and I took turns popping out of the station to look around. I didn’t go far. I thought about crossing the road and venturing further but the traffic was terrifying and the area around the station isn’t inviting. Instead I found a Five Guys and got some Cajun fries – 3.50 for a small one. It was nice to have something hot and spicy after two months of under-seasoned food. We also had a messy but satisfying cherry clafouti for our evening Eurostar snack.
Paris still wins no prizes with me. They cleaned the station up but the streets around it still smelled like a toilet. So we waited for the Eurostar train and then had a swift journey towards London in the dark.
At St Pancras I ordered a mini cab and we had another swift and pleasant ride to Hackney.
Always weird to come home after being away, staying in somewhat more luxurious places. Still, it looked tidy and familiar – bigger than I remembered – and very cold! On with the heat, cup of tea and some soup and sausage rolls (that I picked up at M&S at the station) and eventually to bed.
Sunday we unpacked. Everything is out of the cases but the bits and pieces aren’t all put away yet. That will take some Krish Tetris skill since the cupboard looks quite full already and a food order on its way this morning from Ocado. We had booked to go for Sunday roast but Krish asked if we could put it off. Instead I got a little steak pie (for one but split between us) and some cole slaw for lunch and we got some Indian food that was dinner and then lunch yesterday.
Some reflections are in order. I love Hackney. Krish says he misses the view of Superga and the Alps (when we could see them) and the market and the people. And, of course, I do too really. But then there are so many things that are good about here. The light is different, and the weather, the people, the transport, the language, the attitudes, the food, the architecture… but I sense a lot of freedom and opportunity. And I suppose that’s what brings the Italians to countries like this anyway. Italy again next year? Who knows but for now, this picture says it.
* Krish said I should coin this. I’m sure someone already has!
The last week in Torino the rains started and it was hard to find a day when it felt OK to be out. It rains in London, of course, but it’s a manageable rain – with few exceptions. In Turin the rain is incessant and heavy, with only short breaks. We did wander, when we weren’t indoors keeping dry and slowly filling cases.
The streets of central Torino – Centro – can be grand but in between these wide boulevards are the quiet narrow streets. Imagine this in central London – even in the back streets and alleys!
I’m also fascinated by the inner courtyards. Just off via Garibaldi there’s a courtyard that leads into other courtyards, each with its own shops and apartments and little cafes. It was raining this day and things were very quiet. It’s like a hidden oasis from the mad shoppers, who are never stopped by rain.
The Piazza San Carlo is a very grand square. Krish was amused by the statue since his favourite crisps are the San Carlo brand. He said that every time he saw the statue he needed to thank the man (is it even San Carlo?) for this taste treat. The square is used a lot for events. In this case they are getting ready for the Chocolate Festival that was taking place the week after we left. Bad timing!
The annual festival of artists’ lights was starting to take shape. We saw a few as we left. This one had projections of lacy patterns over the paving stones. It looked so pretty. In fact, Piazza Carignano is the prettiest square in Centro. If I return, I want to explore it better.
Esmeralda and I had a date to meet in Bergamo for a girly weekend. We planned a few things, including colouring her hair! We also wanted to have a couple of nice, leisurely meals, lounge about, and explore and take photos. Then life happened. E la vita!
According to Wikipedia, Bergamo is 40km north of Milan and is the fourth largest city in the Lombardy region. It consists of the newer lower city (Città Bassa) and the ancient walled city of Città  Alta, certainly far far fewer..  Bergamo means mountain home and has an elevation of 465m (1525.59′) I took a look at comparisons – Coit Tower is at 91m and Salt Lake City 1,288 m. Those are the demographics.
To get to Bergamo I took a train to Milan and, at the station, bought a local 5.50 ticket on what looks like a Toronto Go Train. My local train journey took abut 45 minutes, sitting in the first class carriage by mistake, something my seat neighbour found quite amusing when we both discovered it – luckily, they didn’t discover us, for on the return journey they did inspect tickets!
At the station in Bergamo, I looked for somewhere to buy a bus ticket. I found it in a tobacco shop adjoining the building. 1.30 would get me onto the bus and up the funicular to the High City. Funiculars scare me a little but it was a cool ride up – two carriages each holding maybe eight people. They go up and down – two carriages that meet each other halfway, then go again.
When I got out at the top, it reminded me a lot of the top of the funicular in Naples – a square with a cafe, and cobblestones. I waited to be met.
I left out the bit where I received an email, just two hours before I was leaving Turin, telling me that the place I’d rented was unavailable. Another place ‘of equal value’ had been found for me. Stress! An examination showed that the new place was in a good location but it was tiny – less than half the space of the original (60 vs 25 sqm). I felt sick. The original host would meet and guide me to the new place. I had no choice. She was cheerful and chatty as we took the short walk along what was definitely idyllic Italy.
The apartment was two floors up in a very old building – tiny, as expected. Clean but sparse. I grinned and bore it and resolved to check into alternatives when Esmeralda had had her say. This wasn’t the comfy, warm place I’d envisioned for our retreat. I now felt a bit bleak but I settled in to wait for Esmeralda to arrive. Meanwhile, the apartment was in the  Piazza Mercato del Fieno (Haymarket Square). It’s a pretty square – sadly, it’s also effectively a big parking lot.
She eventually did – two long delays and one cancelled train later. She was feeling sick and hungry. Too bad when I had already discovered how cold this apartment was. I called to ask about heat and about two hours later the owner arrived. She basically shrugged and said things like ‘Old Town, always like this, mine is cold too, nothing I can do’ and tossed me two blankets. Sigh. They have a lot to learn about tourism in Bergamo.
Hungry didn’t even describe me and it was about 9:30pm – I’d had no lunch. Opposite the flat was a restaurant I’d heard about from a Chowhound member. ‘Down home cooking’ was its description and it was housed in an old blacksmith shop. Hmm.
It was lovely and warm in there. I wanted to move in. It was also still serving food, and was almost full of happy, chatting people. I felt pretty good! I chose a pasta of the region called casoncelli, Esmeralda chose a square shaped pasta with porcini (it’s mushroom season!). She then characteristically chose two main dishes – one a braised meat with an ice cream scoop of polenta, and one a cheese with grilled zucchini and eggplant (and polenta!). Eyes too big for her belly, always! (Sorry, Es!) Casoncelli is a pasta stuffed with cheese and meat then covered with more cheese and bacon and served with butter and sage. It was delicious but heavy and I tried hard not to eat too much of the butter. I ate about six of them and gave up. I picked at the two main dishes after that. Dessert? Who could eat it?
We went for a walk after that, covering a few streets and what looked like a main square. There were people eating under the porticoes and everything looked charming. I felt like I’d finally discovered the Italy people talk about. In the streets were little shops and lot of polenta! They’re crazy about it. Here, they serve it very yellow in mounds of all sizes and also sweetened for dessert. It was everywhere. I was really looking to seeing more in the daylight.
Back at the Haymarket square, we looked around. We could see a flat below ours. The ceiling was very high and beamed. There were tapestries and beautiful art everywhere. We joked how we would ask if we could move in that one instead of our poky place. It was good to laugh.
Hard to know how much to say about what happened next but here goes. Shortly after arriving back at the flat I had to run to the bathroom. This wasn’t unexpected after that heavy pasta with its cheese and butter – and despite the fact I’d tried to avoid eating too much of it – but it got worse. Now I started to see blood, including blood clots in the bathroom and, afterwards, cramps in my lower belly and more trips to the bathroom where I passed more small blood clots. I arranged myself on the couch with a water bottle full of hot tap water and hoped I’d sleep.
Much of my time in Bergamo when I wasn’t in the bathroom was spent on that couch wrapped in blankets, reading, with that hot tap water bottle. And praying nothing worse would happen, hoping I wasn’t going to end up at the hospital. It was too cold to shower. Too cold to really relax. I felt miserable.,.and scared. Continue reading “Bergamo – Città Alta”
I can’t write about anywhere without talking about the food!
Venice was recently in the news – tourists were given exorbitant bills. In Italian restaurants, fish may be priced by the 100g. Unsuspecting tourists think this is the full price and then freak out when the bills arrive. Beware! However, food is quite expensive in Venice. Everything is quite expensive in Venice. It’s had quite some journey to your plate.
I did read about excellent meals served in Venice. I sadly didn’t see or have one. But, for the record, Venice is beside the sea and so has a lot of seafood. In a better world, this is a no-brainer. Hint – stick to the three Ps: pizza, panini, and pasta…as usual!
The first night we decided to follow Chowhound advice and went to a fancier restaurant. It was along the Cannaregio canal so it was easy to find. We had a 72 Euro meal. Was it worth it? Judge for yourself.
And, yes, Venice has fast food — misnomer! Italians don’t do ‘fast.’ At the McD’s – where I caved and decided a McMuffin for breakfast was better than a sweet pastry (the usual Italian breakfast food) there was one server, one cook, everything done slo mo. I left after 15 minutes of standing, certain I’d be another 15. At the KFC I had an awful time telling them what I wanted but eventually it arrived – a tiny container of barely BBQ beans, and a corn cobette – ah, roughage!
Shopping is interesting. There are a lot of small shops. I did see one department store near St Mark’s Square that looked absolutely fabulous but it wasn’t open yet so I couldn’t go in. I was not going back to that area again! Venetians also seem to like pretty fashion items, leather, and lots of lots of souvenirs here.