And in the end

24 September

Full moon means high tide. And high tide in Venice means a rather wet San Marco.

Our last morning in Venice, and some last minute shopping had to be done. I had been carefully remembering where the shops were that I wanted to get the stuff I was still looking for. Venice got the better of me. In a desperate attempt to find what I was looking for, I ended up on San Marco square. And even worst - on the canal side of the square. Which meant I had to cross it. Except that, in places, the water was ankle deep.

We had been wondering about what we thought were tables stacked around the square. I learnt what the answer was the hard way. Walkways to enable the crowds to cross a flooded square. Except that the ratio of tourist feet to number of walkways just somehow wasn't calculated correctly. But we are pleased that we experienced this.

And finally, weird as it may sound, we left for the airport - by boat. And in order to make the hours that lie ahead a little more tolerable, we tried to classify things a bit. And so, reflecting on our three weeks of amazing experiences, we tried to draw up some Best Of and Worst Of lists:

Most Frustrating:

• Getting into Verona
• Getting out of Bassano del Grappa

Autostops (petrol stations) on the Autostrada's have shops that sell detailed maps of the areas. It's a good idea to ensure you have a good detailed map before you get there.

Most Confusing:

• Traffic signs, especially at traffic circles.

A more detailed map or GPS would probably have helped with this too, but as confusing and frustrating as it could get, it was often quite fun to try and figure it all out.

Biggest Mystery:

• San Marco's Lion - In Venice, you often see four versions of this lion, with varying configurations of teeth, from fangs to human-like teeth, to no teeth at all. Why??

Funniest Experience:

• Watching the old man in Burano pacing up and down the 'main street' the entire afternoon.

If you miss watching the real people in Italy, you don't see Italy. You could easily get engrossed in art and history, and enirely forget about realities of everyday life.

Worst Experience:

• Airports - in Venice we stood in the check-in queue for two hours. 
• Crowds in Venice - it just gets crazy - we found going to a smaller island like Burano was a lot more relaxing during the day time.

Accommodation - Best Location:

• Rome - Hotel Mentecitorio was 5 minutes walk from the Trevi Fountain as well as the Spanish Steps and the good designer shopping streets.
• Venice - Ca'Zora was also about 5 minutes from both San Marco and Rialto. That's if you manage to follow the correct route.

Accommodation - Best Views

• Lake Maggiore - La Sorgente had a really good view over the lake and two of its most beatiful islands
• Pezzo (Ponte di Legno) - Yuri B&B had the most exquisite view over the valley nestled between the huge mountains.
• Verona - Agriturismo San Mattia has beautiful views over the old city centre of Verona.  
• Corniglia - Camere Orietta has stunning sea views from the little terrace on the roof.

Most of the others also had good views in some form.

Accommodation - Best host

• Yuri ( Yuri B&B) was by far the most friendly, helpful and jovial of them all!
• Francesca (http://www.lasorgente.biz/) was equally friendly and extremely helpful.

Best meal:

• La Cantinetta, Barolo - we had the tasting menu, allowing us to sample every starter. It was undescribably exquisite
• Marina Piccola, Manarola - Niel had the best fish here
• La Sorgente had the best breakfast by far, with homemade bread and fruit pastries.
• Hotel Wildner's Restaurant, Venice - Even though it felt a bit like cheating, Niel had the best steak with exquisite pepper sauce here.

Where could we have spent more time?

• Verona - it's a beautiful city. One day was just not enough.
• Piemonte - the region with the best wine and most beautiful little towns and beautiful landscapes.

Where could we have spent less time?

• Merano - the landscapes were beautiful, but the fact that this area is largely German, just did not fit with an Italian trip.

Most Exciting Experience

• Monte Bianco - taking the cable car up to the top, standing on fresh snow, surrounded by mountains and glaciers was just awesome
• Passo delle Stelvio & Passo Gavia - the most awesome driving experience you could possibly have.

Best Experience:

• Italy.

Che piu cercando io vo

23 September

If there is one place where you see the real Italy, it will be at the market. And the Rialto market in Venice is no exception. Largely a fish, fruit and vegetable market,Rialto market can provide for hours of entertainment. It’s quite remarkable how easily people can set up such beautiful displays of fish and fresh produce every day.

We strolled around this market for quite some time, looking at how Italians do things the same, and how they do things differently. At a butcher on the fringe of the market, we saw chickens displayed in the window. They seem to leave the head on! Similarly, with the hares. Yes – there was Bugs Bunny lying in the window, skinned, but entirely intact. At the many fish counters, squid seemed to be the main attraction. Some fish were skinned, except for the heads. Some crabs were on their backs, with the legs still desperately registering protest against the sea of ice they now find themselves on. At one stall I watch a little shrimp jumping around on a bigger fish. He somehow managed to catapult himself out of his species’ container, and like a little brat, proceeded to jump around all over the place. I could almost hear his bantering in his Eddie Murphy voice. I’m very relieved that I never saw Nemo.

Fruit and vegetables were equally entertaining. Apart from the exquisite displays, we found the foreign ones quite fascinating. I found Ovoli mushrooms particularly interesting. And Niel tried some of the fruit. The known ones, like the pears, were very good. Others were less tasty.  We still don’t quite know what “Tabarchine Italia” are.

Watching the people ended up being an even bigger treat. Of course the tourists were there in their abundance. But so were the locals. Chefs buying food for tonight’s supper. And, as always, some old folk who clearly has Rialto market as part of their routine, even once they get to the stage of needing assistance to do so.

From the market we basically took it as it came. Strolling around Venice, mostly trying to avoid the majority of tourists, but not always succeeding in that. You could definitely keep yourself entertained for a good many days, simply by visiting churches, museums and art galleries. And palaces. We picked the Palazzo Ducale, the official residence of each Venetian ruler, originally founded in the 9^th century. It is in this palace that you can find Jacopo and Domenica Tintoretto’s Paradise, one of the largest paintings in the world.  The painting is in the Sala del Maggior Consiglio, a large chamber where the Great Council used to meet or hold their banquets. I can well imagine the parties that could happen in this vast hall.

From the palace, you cross the Bridge of Sighs to the prisons, where Casanova was once imprisoned. He managed to make a rather daring escape through a hole in the roof, though.

 And for our last evening in Italy, we chose culture. ‘I Musici Veneziani’ does a Baroque and Opera show in the Scuola Grande di San Teodore, which was founded in 1218. It was great to listen to the small 10-piece orchestra, along with the two tenors and the soprano, all dressed in 18^th century costumes. Like a typical Venetian Soirée. This, followed by a supper at a restaurant on the Grand Canal, was a close to perfect ending to a long anticipated, and such an enjoyable trip.

Che piu cercando io vo?

So, so you think you can tell

It would take you a very long time to explore all the streets of Venice. And then there are still the islands.Most people visit Murano for the glass factories. Less people bother to visit the smaller island, Burano.

We took the waterbus to Burano. This is the island where you will find the famous lacework. And a great deal more. Brightly painted houses line the small canals. And when I mean brightly painted, I really mean just that. The story goes that the fishermen of Burano had trouble finding their houses after their regular visits to the bar. So they simply ended up painting the houses different colours so the lads could find their way home with less effort. Life must be really good on this island. We saw some very old people.

Of course the tourism business is quite lucrative for this little community, with lots of little shops selling the beautiful lacework.One shopkeeper insisted that I understood that some of the work may be done by machine, but it still gets done in Burano, and not in China. I did watch an old lady actually doing the lacework. It's just phenomenal to watch someone doing such fine work by hand.

It goes without saying that in a fishing community, one would probably find a good restaurant for seafood, and it ended up being a most relaxing afternoon, sitting under the umbrellas, watching the tourists go by. But it was even more fun watching the village's old folk go by. It was not long before we spotted an old man walking very deliberately, determined eyes fixed on the ground ahead of him, hands in the pocket, cigarette clenched between his wrinkled lips. Great photo moment missed. Except not. For the entire afternoon, this old man proceeded to very deliberately walk up and down the main shopping street of the village.Never allowing anyone or anything to distract him, or set him off course. Simply walking, like he was busy marking his territory.

It was difficult to leave the peaceful entertainment of Burano, and after such a relaxing day, it would only be right to end it off at San Marco, listening to some music. I was astonished that a small ensemble consisting of piano, flute, clarinet, accordion, double bass and violin, could play the entire first movement of Beethoven's Fifth Symphony.

Last night we stopped to help a couple wondering aimlessly with suitcases in tow. You see this often. The guy, desparately trying to look like he has everything under control. It's just around the next corner, dear. With the woman looking tired, irritated and on the verge of exploding with accusations. Tonight, we saw a poor guy with his entire family. It's just so wrong to not want to help. The poor guys.

You do eventually get the hang of Venice. But you need time.

I see you shiver with antici.....pation

21 September

Everyone that gets to go to Venice, does so with great anticipation.

Leaving Mason Vicentino, we took the shortest route to the autostrada that did not involve Bassano del Grappa. And the drive to Venice was a quick one, with the only noteworthy thing being the vast amount of trucks you find along the way. Clearly a very lucrative business.

We were really sad to say goodbye to Picasso, the car that had been our home for the last 18 days. It was so very patient, taking us from the narrowest lanes to the highest passes to the most beautiful lakes. But there was also some form of relief, not having to be careful of entering where we should not, or navigate the narrow lanes that constitute Italy.

Getting to Venice was simple enough, but when you step off the water bus at Rialto bridge, as instructed by your guest house owner, you very quickly realise that Venice is the city of anticipation, confusion and map-consulting people. The city is packed to the rim with tourists. And they are all lost, fighting with each other over who knows best to get even more lost. And wherever you look, you see the look of absolute anticipation and total confusion on people’s faces. I should be having fun! I think this must be the right waterbus!  But am I going in the right direction? Do I look fashionable enough? Will they understand what I’m saying? It’s hilarious.

Needless to say – it took us a while to find our accommodation, but Niel, adamant to show me Venice, persisted. This, as always, often leaves me standing on some street corner with the luggage, something I’ve become quite accustomed to. I’ve learnt that if you stare down passersby, they seem too embarrassed to even consider forming an opinion about the fact that you look like an idiot with baggage on a street corner.

I would probably have to confess that my first impression of Venice was not positive. I don’t really do crowds well, so walking through narrow lanes, bumping into GGG’s (Gelato Gulping Germans), looking at one shop after another selling rather hideous glass objects (I was warned about this), just did not feel like the kind of place I could enjoy. So we did the one thing that would change that impression. Head for the water.

Taking the No. 2 line on the waterbus meant that we just about went around the entire island, passing San Marco, Rialto, and many other beautiful buildings and churches. I loved it. You see the real Venice on the various boats that go around doing things that people in real life do. A man fixing a window of his house, standing on his boat to do so. Some guys on a boat transposting a grand piano on its side. Guys taking building rubble away on a boat, or delivering gas bottles. Young kids having fun. Old men fishing.

By the time we decided to get onto dry land again, most of the tourists had gone to wherever they go when they don’t have accommodation in Venice. San Marco square was a great deal more pleasant, and some of the restaurants along its edges started attracting crowds with live string quartets or ensembles playing popular classical music. And even after supper, when we went back to San Marco, people were still cuddling to the beats of tangos, waltzes and polkas.

Once you figure out when to not be where in Venice, it starts becoming the charming place people anticipate it to be. I suspect not many people actually experience it, though.

By a Crystal blue Italian stream

20 September

Never under (or over)estimate the size of a city.

Having only truly seen Verona at dusk, we stopped to take another walk through the town centre before leaving for Grappa area.

Verona remains a beautiful city. Somehow, the fact that you have to cross a bridge to enter an old town, makes it that much more mysterious. Ponte Scaligero was built between 1354 and 1376, and when four of its arches were blown up by the Germans in World War II, the Italians dredged the river in order to find all the parts of the bridge, and rebuilt it.

Getting out of Verona was only slightly easier than getting in. And with some detour, we eventually managed to get on our way to Bassano del Grappa. We eventualy figured out that Verona is way smaller than we thought it was, and so when you follow the map, you get way further than you think you did, and therefore constantly overshoot the target.

Our accommodation  in Grappa-country was in a little village, Mason Vicentino, outside Bassano del Grappa, which we did not think was that big in the first place. Finding our accommodation was really easy this time round, and after a brief stop, we set off to see what Grappa-country looks like. The first town we found was Marostica, which I was really sorry that we did not visit a week earlier. Apart from having the most impressive walled historical town centre, Marostica is famous for it's human chess game that only happens every even year in September. It would have been very cool to see this.

Bassano del Grappa is home of - well - Grappa. And has quite a unique wooden bridge that was built to be able to handle the forces of the water flowing down the Brenta river. There is an interesting Grappa museum, but other than that, we found the town almost indifferent to the way Italians preserve their heritage. It just seemed that they only maintain the historical bits because they have to. Perhaps the anticipation of Venice was clouding our judgement, though. And to our surprise, getting out of Bassano was virtually impossible. We wanted to head further east to some other villages, but found it almost impossible to achieve this. Bassano is way bigger than we imagined it....

We eventually did manage to drive through towns like Asolo and Possagna, and on the way back, had to pass through, and get lost in Bassano again, but we are getting quite good at going round circles until we figure things out, and eventually managed to get ourselves back home, And because Mason Vicentino is such a small place, with expectations set fairly low, we found the only fairly decent looking restaurant. Italy never seizes to surprise you. Al Pozzo was by far the most upmarket restaurant we had been to. And somehow, whenever we forget to take our phrase book, we hit restaurants with no English, and no English-speaking people. Sign language and lots of misunderstanding each other somehow ensure for a very good supper.

Size can be very deceiving.

Here I go down that wrong road again

19 September

If you start in the right place, you have a good chance of ending in the right place.

With about as early a start as we could ever make, we set off for Verona. But the very helpful book of Italian wines that I happened to find at a charity book sale, insisted that one tries the wine of the Trentino region of the Aldige valley, and because Caldaro seems to be the most recommended village, we decided to try and find a cellar there for some wine tasting. We were clearly not the only tourists with this in mind, but with some investigations and asking about, we eventually found a Wine Centre, where some helpful souls enlightened Niel on all the wines of the region. He found the Lagrein and Vernach particularly good, but was also impressed with the Pinot Grigio and Muller-Thergau.

From Caldaro it was a simple drive on the autostrada to Verona. Simple. That's when the fun started. We were armed with a map of Italy, a printed condensed map of Verona that clearly showed the major roads, a printed map of the area where our accommodation is, with strategic street names, a phone that supposedly has a GPS, and we were delighted to have a laptop with fully functioning Italian sim card for internet access, which means on the spot access to maps. And for some extra measure, we had one male who will try any direction, and won't ask, and one female who needs to be stationary to figure things out first. And when that female experiences an internal GPS failure, well - you struggle a little. It took as about two hours to eventually get so very close to a point of actually knowing where to go next, only to be stopped by the police because of road closures. The one bit of road that would have made our life so easy, was closed for some bike race. But the policeman being as friendly as police can be, told us in his best Italian, that we should just turn around and 'primo destra'. And it's not as if I had been listening to Italian language lessons for nothing over these last few months. Of course I know that destra means right.

Well - we're told that the road we then found ourselves on, was a road that was used in the first world war. We started off waiting at a robot for a good 5 minutes. When it eventually turned green, we understood why it had stayed red for so long. About 1 km of cobblestone road that is so narrow that, at times, I wanted Niel to do that cool thing that our car could do with its mirrors - turn it in so the car can squeeze through narrower alleys. But we managed to get through this first world war street unambushed, and found ourselves on a normal road. Surely it's simple from there. And it was. In no time we got to the circle where all we needed to do was pick Via San Giuliana. So we picked San Giuliana, and found ourselves on an even narrower road. But we were brave (or just extremely stupid), and continued until we get the correct number. Exhale. Except that the people on the other end of the intercom ended up trying to tell us that we should go back the way we came, and from the little church at the round-about, the second gate on the right.

And even though I would love to laboriously share the frustrations of our search, to cut a long story short, the San Giuliana that we picked was a Stradello, which I'm pretty sure means a small road. And had we picked the next street off the circle, our accommodation was a mere 50 meters further along the very normal road.

To make up for the almost three hours of painful driving, mostly oblivious of any form of direction, the accommodation is great. It has stunning views of the old city centre of Verona, with a lovely room, and promises of a good supper. So we took the correct (and very quick) way back down to the city centre, and did a quick tour of Verona at dusk, which is really very beautiful. And the minute I set foot in the old town centre, I realised how much I loved being in these beautiful old towns. There is a sense of belonging, with people happily strolling down narrow streets, pizzerias and trattorias making the hungry feel at home, and from the young, to the fashion-clad grand,  to the very old peddling along on their bicycles.

I'm still really struggling to pick my favorite part of Italy. Perhaps it is just the part that I find myself at that point in time.

Saunter by the mountains of Merano

18 September

If there is only one thing to do in Merano, it cannot possibly be washing.

We have been very happy with weather, with only a little rain in Lucca so far. Today we experienced some Southern Tyrol rain, which was not altogether a bad thing. Even when you try and fit in the vastness of Italian offerings, at some stage you need to just turn your back on some of it, and catch up with some normal life.

And so, after a late morning of reading and sleeping, we decided to drive to Bolzano, in search of a laundrette. This is seldom as easy as it sounds, but with perseverance, we eventually found a shady, but functional one, and with reluctance, I left Niel to find parking, and hopefully find me again. Which also sounds easy, but experience has taught me over and over again that there are no guarantees on Niel being able to backtrack himself back to a point.

You tend to learn a lot at laundrettes. The first lesson – how to close a washing machine, which can be useful in its own rights, but then this starts you chatting with people, who can end up offering a wealth of information. This I found at the laundrette. A Dutch dude who seems to be working his way around Italy, who understood the Afrikaans I spoke to Niel, who knew how the washing machines worked, and who advised me on where to find a sim card for internet connectivity. I did however also get some rather advancing looks from two obscure Italians who overloaded a machine with sheets they clearly used in some painting job. But at least I also managed to pass my newly-learnt skills on Italian washing-machine operations to an Italian who even offered me a cup of coffee. Not knowing the customs well enough, I politely declined. You never know what strings these Italians might want to attach to a cup of coffee.

Not the most exciting of Saturdays, but we did manage to attend to some logistrivia, now having enough clean clothes for the balance of the trip, and being the proud owners of an Italian internet sim card. And with a fairly good supper in a pizzeria in Dorf Tirol, an early night completed a good resting day.

Sometimes it’s quite fun to just be everyday people doing everyday things in everyday Italy.

Aber Bitte mit Sahne

17 September

This day is for my kids.

The first thing you see when you wake up in Yuri’s guesthouse, is the most exquisite view of the valley. Why do we insist on living in the city? The views were obstructed at times with mist that seemed to come and go, and with some rain falling through the night, everything was just so fresh and clean.

We left for the big drive. The Stelvio pass. But first we had to get across the Passo Gavia. Yuri warned us that the road gets narrow at places, but we should not get scared – just drive slowly and hoot. The road gets narrow at places. Very narrow. We were extremely lucky that we did not encounter any other cars from the front in any of these narrow places. It gets so narrow that a bike can barely pass a car, let alone two cars pass one another. And it is not as if there are many places to pull off, to allow someone to pass you. You have mountain on the one side, and, well, nothing on the other side, except a very long way down the mountain.

And once you recover from the Passo Gavia, you are presented with the Stelvio pass. On the way up, we first noticed the boards counting the hairpin bends at bend no. 36. And when I say hairpin, I really mean hairpin. And while the road does get rather narrow at times, it never really got as narrow as the Passo Gavia did. Except for a few tunnels, where the old part of the tunnel was really just wide enough for one car, so if you encountered traffic from the front, which we did, you had to reverse back out of the tunnel, which we had to. I’m very pleased that I was tought to reverse well.

Passo dello Stelvio has clearly become very famous with the biker world, both mountain bikers and motorcyclists. The village at the top of the pass is filled with bikers excitedly chatting about the awesome ride up, and what lies ahead on the way down again, as well as cyclists who pant away happily about the fact that they managed to cycle all the way up to a height of 2400m. It was a great vibe, but eventually we had to leave to tackle about 36 odd more hairpin bends on the way down. We stopped a few times, once to give headway for a bus filled with old people with frantic feet on non-existant breakpedals. The bus could of course seldom get around the bends without making a 3point turn.

The Stelvio pass is certainly well worth driving, and even Niel, being the anti-biker that he is, admitted that he would have enjoyed being able to do it on a bike.

Next stop, Merano, which means that you drive through the Venosta valley, filled with apple orchards and vineyards, and of course surrounded by mountains. We have to admit that, arriving at Dorf Tirol, where our guesthouse is situated, we experienced quite a culture shock. This part of Northern Italy is part of South Tyrol, which means that people speak German, and everything looks like you are in Germany or Austria. And everywhere you look, you see tourists. We felt rather lost and cheated, so decided on an early supper, followed by a quiet evening in our room. Supper, however, turned into an evening of dancing with a bunch of old German tourists to the music of a local musician playing a variety of music, from typical German drinking songs on the accordion, to ‘Let’s twist again’ on the keyboard. At least my memories of the German music shows we used to get in the early days of television, allowed me to recognise Udo Jurgens’ music, and even sing along with it. J    

A horse with no name

16 September

It feels like such a sin to leave the beauty of Maggiore. Especially for time in a city.

We were given clear instruction on how best to get to Milan. Off the autostrada, parking “silo’s”, underground  train– simple. We ended up driving into the city, until eventually we saw a parking garage a few blocks away from the city centre. At least taking the tram from there to the duomo was simple enough.

No matter how you think that you’ve probably seen it all, these duomo’s still have an uncanny way of taking your breath away when you first see them. Their size, beauty, and the incredible detail of all the statues and frescoes are just amazing. Milan’s Duomo took 500 years to build. Imagine the patience that must have taken!

From the Duomo we walked to Teatro alla Scala, which is not quite as impressive from the outside, and seeing that it was..... siesta(!), we dared to split up. I chose the famous fashion streets, Niel chose to go to Castello Sforzesco, a Renaissance palace from the 15^th century.

Walking down Via Manzoni, towards Via della Spiga, I was shocked to see just what these Italians can turn into exclusive designer items. I expected to see fashion, shoe and jewelry stores.  I also so a store that sold designer cellphones. And a store that sold designer chambermaid outfits! Halfway through all the stores, I found myself wanting to get out of there. It may be quite cool for some people to be this rich to be able to afford a 600euro pair of shoes. I almost find the glitzy and ellaborate stuff a bit shallow.

Back at La Scala, we did the tour of the museum, which also allows you to stand on one of the balconies of the theatre. Some people were busy on the stage with a set for some show, which unfortunately meant that the rest of the theatre was in darkness. It must be such an experience to listen to a full orchestra in such a theatre.

It took us a while to find our way out of Milan again, but eventually got ourselves to Bergamo along the autostrada. From here, we had to take a minor route to Ponte di Legno. I should perhaps explain some of the difficulties in driving in Italy

·         Roads are well signposted, but by the time you are presented with the options, it’s very difficult to find those towns on the map to at least ensure you are going in the right direction. Most of the small towns are not even on the map.

·         Our map shows the autostradas, which are great to drive on. In some areas, it shows a slightly lesser form of autostrada. These are mostly like our normal national roads that pass through small towns. The next step down are roads that makes you feel like you are driving from Cape Town to Johannesburg along Voortrekker Road. You pass through village after village, seldom seeing countryside, and at times, the road is so narrow that there are no markings, and two cars can only just pass each other. And should this happen to go through an older town, there are areas where the buildings are no more than a white line away from the road. In one town, we had to be careful to miss the steps leading up to the front door of some houses.  So getting somewhere takes time.

·         Those signposts don’t always work the way we expect them to. A sign that we would have taken as having to turn right, actually means  that you should enter this road straight ahead of you. We have lost count of the number of times we have turned right instead of carrying on straight.

We found Ponte di Legno quite easily, but our accommodation was in the little town of Pezzo, a little further along. And it should come as no surprise that we somehow took a wrong turn, and ended up driving halfway up a mountain, through some very old towns. And if we thought that some towns had narrow streets, we had not seen it all. At one stage I did not think that our car would fit through the narrow roads that make up the main street of these villages. And with it being dark already, it was quite the challenge to figure out where exactly we were, so we were very pleased to find an open restaurant to ask. Fortunately we were very close to where we needed to be.

Yuri’s B&B is in Pezzo, halfway up a mountain, overlooking a beautiful valley surrounded by even more beautiful mountains. And Yuri certainly gets the prize for Mr. Hospitality. He did not stop talking, even following us into the bedroom of the small flatlet he reserved for us on the top story of his grandfather’s house. He then drove us up to the restaurant in the village, to ensure that he could give the chef strict instructions to treat us well. In Stresa, Francesca told us that there were two dishes we should try while we were in this area. Pizzoccheri, and Bresaola. The latter was not on the menu, but, from what she described bresaola to be, the close equivalent was – Cavallo steak. So I tried the pizzoccheri, while Niel tried the Cavallo. I found the my food very reach, consisting of pasta, potatoes, cabbage, and lots of cheese. Niel, however, thoroughly enjoyed his steak. And if you have not yet googled Cavallo – it’s horse steak.

Niel spent the rest of the evening whinnying at everything I said. J

He just keeps rolling along

15 September 2010

Today, we decided to do some touristy stuff....

Francesca, the very friendly owner of our guesthouse, suggested that we not spend our day rushing around Milan, but rather do a trip to Centrovalli, Switzerland. It was not very difficult to convince us.

The first leg of this wonderful excursion is by normal Italian train from Baveno to Domodossola, a distance of 35km, initially along the lake, and then passing through various smaller villages. In Domodossola, you change to a smaller train, perfectly equipped with large windows to ensure that you see every possible bit of the beautiful scenery as you travel across the Alps to Locarno, a Swiss village at the furthest end of Lake Maggiore. At the risk of sounding like a stuck record - the scenery was just beautiful. You are surrounded by mountains, with quaint villages appearing when you least expect them to. As always, we were amazed at how brave the Italians are to be building villages so high up in the mountains.

In Locarno, we had a few hours to kill before the boat trip back to Stresa, so we took a cute little tourist train that shows you the town in 30 minutes, and then continued to browse around the shops in the main square. And seeing that we were in Switzerland, it would only be logical to taste some good Swiss chocolates. Hmmmm.

The boat trip back to Stresa was bliss. A quiet slow ride down the lake, passing by all the villages dotted along the edge of the rather large lake. At times I thought that we could have spent our time seeing more places rather than just sitting on such a slow boat, but the peacefulness of the day was definitely what we both needed.

From Stresa we took a smaller boat back to Baveno, stopping at the two islands. And even though we could not explore the actual islands, seeing them from up close was all we needed. This, followed by supper in one of Stresa’s little piazza’s made for a perfect, quiet day.

The lake a lady's mirror

14 September 2010


There are definite ups and downs to good design and engineering.

As we drove back out of the Aosta valley on one of the regional roads, we realised the beauty that you miss when you use the autostradas with all its tunnels and bridges. There are numerous castles in the valley, and we stopped at Fenis, reportedly the most beautiful of them all. Something directly out of a fairytale book, with beautiful views of the river and valley below,  we could easily see why this castle seems to be so popular.

Our destination today was Lake Maggiore, with one stop in Biella, the centre of the textile industry. That should mean fashion. And so it does. There are numerous factory outlets along one of the roads leading out of Biella. One thing we have not yet mastered in Italy is taking the siesta into account. But fortunately they also have the odd mall, which means that you do get a chance to shop over lunchtime as well. Our first stop was at a small mall that had about 8 outlets. I cannot say that I recognised all the designer names, but certainly managed to recognise that, even at factory outlet prices, true Italian designer clothing is just impossible to afford. I saw a really exquisite pair of  shoes - normal price 400 euro. Outlet price - 200euro.

We also found a bigger mall, with shops that looked more like the ones we are used to, and a huge supermarket. I enjoyed strolling through these shops, seeing what the real Italians get to choose from, but in the end, the lake won. It just felt totally silly to be spending time in a mall, when the beauty of the Alps and lakes beckoned.

Our first lake was Lake Orta, one of the smaller lakes. We drove up to Sacro Monte di Francesco, situated on a hilltop overlooking the lake and it's island, Isole di San Giulio. Once again, the views were spectacular. But nothing could prepare us for the beauty of Lake Maggiore.

Our guesthouse, and room, has beautiful views of two of the lake's islands - Isola Bella, and Isola dei Pescatori. And sitting on the balcony, looking east at the effects of the sunset on the mountains and lake, I once again wondered why it took us so long to do this trip.

Deine Welt sind die Berge

Italy, France, Switzerland. All in one day.

We were up early. We really only had one stab at seeing Monte Bianco.That's if the weather would play along. And so it did. We took the Autostrade to Palud, where the Funivie Monte Bianco is. There are a series of cable cars that can take you all the way across the mountain to Chamonix on the French side, but wind conditions meant that we could only go as far as Punta Heilbronner. We had planned to drive through the Monte Bianco tunnel to France, so Punta Heilbronner was perfect for us. Perfect in every possible way. Well - Niel probably would have preferred for it to not be as cold.

The views are spectacular, with only some scattered clouds that only added to the beauty of it all. It's quite remarkable to see how a glacier can cut through a mountain the way it does. We stayed out on the deck for us long as we could handle the cold, then went for a cup of true Italian coffee, waiting for the feeling to return to our frozen hands before venturing back out again. Every time you looked at one of the peaks, it seemed to look different. Down on the glacier we could see some people walking across the patterned snow. I started looking for a notice offering employment. How wonderful it must be to be working on such a beautiful mountain every day.

We reluctantly made our way back down the mountain, stopping at each station to take in some more of the views. 

From Palud we drove through the Monte Bianco Tunnel to France. The Wows simply didn't stop. From the villages, to the golf club we stumbled upon, to the ever-present mountains, the wows just kept coming. We drove from Chamonix, across the Swiss border to Martigny. Here we stopped at the St Bernard Museum. I cannot think of too many dog breeds that have a museum in their honour. They also had some dogs who seemed to do what St Bernards usually do - laze around. That's if they weren't up to some mischief.

From Martigny there is only really one road that would lead you back to Aosta. Well, for someone that comes from generations of petrolheads, that is. Col du Grand St Bernard is the oldest pass through the Western Alps, with evidence of  use that dates back to the Bronze Age. At the highest point (2473m) you pass the Great St Bernard Hospice that was founded in 1049. It is here that the St Bernard dogs were first used for rescue operations.

The Italians are really good at preserving things. It is obvious that the St Bernard pass is taking lots of strain. In some areas, half the road has fallen away, but they are clearly in the process of fixing all the problem areas, with completed areas looking really beautiful with wooden barriers and good tarred surface.

The pass is not quite the road you should be taking when you are in a hurry. But that's the thing. We tend to spend our days rushing through life. I'm very pleased to have driven such a beautiful slow drive today. It made me realise that we should spend more time taking our time about things.

One phrase that I kept on using over and over today: Oh Wow!

High on a hill

12 September 2010

Some mornings are just way slower than others.

We ended up having a late start for our journey to Aosta. Niel also still wanted to stop by a wine estate for some tasting, so we managed to phone ahead to at least ensure that they were open. The very friendly daughter of the owner of D.G. Vajra was an excellent host, and with limited English managed to answer all Niel's questions.

One more stop had to be made. In La Morre, there is a statue for the wine grower, not the wine maker, and this Niel wanted to see.In Italy, you can literally blink and have missed a town completely. We  at least found La Morre, but finding the statue was not easy. But we have a way of perservering beyond the realms of normal sanity, and while I waited in the car, Niel eventually tracked down the wine grower by foot. Seeing some of the places where these Italians have their vineyards, I'm quite pleased that someone thought of honouring this poor bewildered-looking chap.

The plan was to make a quick stop in Turin before we head further North, but because it was getting late, we opted to stop at Basilica di Superga, a church built on one of the hills east of Turin. We climbed up to the dome (I only had to stop for breath once - the free gym membership that came with this trip must be working!) to get a good view of the city. Unfortunately the Mole Antonelliano was not quite visible through the mist, but the view of the city is certainly impressive.

And finally - the mountains. We were not sure whether we would have enough time to take the scenic route over the small St. Bernard pass, so decided to just get to Aosta first, and then see whether we could still see some of what the mountains can offer before dark. Aosta lies in a valley, surrounded by the most beautiful mountains, with numerous castles and churches perched strategicaly on hilltops to add some special effects. Once we had checked into our accommodation, we continued along the valley in the direction of Monte Bianco. It's just impossible to describe the beauty of the mountains around you.

I often say that, when I stop appreciating mountains around me, you may as well bury me. I think I should buy myself a little house up in these mointains. *dream*

D.G. Vajra Wines: www.barolodibarolo.com/inglese/scheda.asp?id_azienda=24

Desmond has a barrel

11 September 2010

Saturdays are market days in Alba, and because I have this idyllic idea of Italian markets, we went to see whether this market lived up it.

Alba is one of the bigger towns in the area, and it goes without saying that the drive there was a beautiful one through countless vineyards. This is one thing that the Italians seem very good at doing. Farming and building on slopes. And establishing little towns. If two towns are more than 5km apart, then that is quite far. This can make traffic circles, of which there are numerous, quite tricky. They are well signposted, but this means there are signs for about 5 to 10 towns on most circles. Add to this the signs for wine estates, and perhaps the odd business or guesthouse, you really have to know what you are looking for. It’s become quite fun navigating these traffic circle, and at the least bit of hesitation from my side, Niel would break into a Pavarotti-style version of “She’ll be coming round the mountain”, and continue to go around the circle, until either I stop laughing and figure out which way to go, or he starts feeling too embarrassed at acting like mr. Bean. Perhaps we should be adding some Italian-style hand gestures to this now fairly regular routine.

The market was a surprise to us both. There is a rather large square with a covered area in the centre. This is where you will find most of the fresh produce. This is then surrounded on the one side by some rather large camper vans that have been rigged out to sell cheese, meat or pasta, with huge glass display cabinets. On the other side, it continues with stalls selling everything from plants, bulbs, clothes, shoes, underwear, curtains, and even hardware stuff. There are so many stalls that they also spill over into the streets of the historic town centre. I was particularly excited to find what we used to know as Romanesca, a cross between broccoli and cauliflower. And even more excited to find some seeds for it.

From Alba, we started our way back to Barolo, stopping at the castle at Grinzane Cavour. It is said that, should you only have the opportunity to stop at one place in Piemonte for wine tasting, it should be here. The castle most definitely is impressive, with a beautiful view of the hills around it. Niel was slightly taken aback at being charged 3 euro for tasting. And that’s just for one wine.

Continuing our drive back to Barolo, we passed through Diano d’Alba, Rodello, where we were told that Il Faro restaurant serves a wonderful 11 course meal, Montelupo, and Monforte. It seems that this area has become a favourite escape for cyclists, as well as motorcyclists. And I’m not surprised. With winding roads and numerous inclines and declines, I can well imagine the driving and cycling pleasure this would bring.

Back in Barolo, Niel ventured off on a quest for more wine tasting. The levels of success varied from being charged 5 euro for a tasting of no more than about 100ml of wine, to having wonderful chats with some local farmers and winemakers. And the wines varied from an excellent 2005 Barolo for 28 Euro at Borgogno, (they also had a 1961 Barolo at about 600 Euro), to some less impressive wines. For the record, Barolo is a wine that is made of 100% Nebbiolo (a cultivar). You also find Barbera wines, made of the Barbera cultivar. Niel found the Barbera’s of Camerano & Figli, and Germano Angelo particularly good.

After supper at Osteria RossoBarolo, we attended a concert of some classical music performed on a piano and organ in the Chiesa di San Donato. I cannot say that it was a display of extreme virtuoso, but it was just so very pleasant to be sitting in the small church, surrounded by mostly the old ladies of the town, dressed in their very best Italian couture, a cellphone taped to a camera tripod to record the performance, and the wife and very excited daughter of the pianist next to us. And with Grieg’s Peer Gynt, and Mascagni’s Cavalleria rusticana, who could have wanted more.

I could happily retire here.

Barolo Region Map: http://maps.google.it/maps?hl=it&tab=wl

Osteria RossoBarolo: http://www.ristoranterossobarolo.com/news.php

Borgogno Wines: http://www.borgogno-wine.com/

Camerano & Figli Wines: http://www.cameranobarolo.net/

Germano Angelo Wines: http://www.vinigermano.com/?sez=fa

 

It’s a small world after all

10 September 2010


For a long time, if you asked me what the first thing that would spring to mind would be when I think of Italy, I would say Portofino. I’m not even sure where I heard about Portofino, but for some reason, I was absolutely sure that this had to be Italy’s very best.

We left Corniglia, driving along the nailbitingly narrow roads, dodging some Italian hell drivers in the process. You certainly don’t see a great deal of Italy from its highways, but I was definitely much happier for us to be on a dual carriageway for a while. Because the coastline is so mountainous, the main highway seems to mainly consist of a series of tunnels, connected by some bridges, with traffic being heavier than we have experienced in Italy thus far, including a huge truck transporting two rather large boats.

Of course the road leading down to Portofino was another narrow, winding road. And then, suddenly, you find yourself looking at a harbour filled with yachts ranging from normal small ones to overwhelmingly large ones. So this must be Portofino then. We were both rather sceptical, though. It was just so very busy and big. It was only once we managed to find parking, and started walking through the town, that we realised that we were actually still in Santa Marguaritha, and that Portofino was actually still about 5km further along the coast, at the very end of the small peninsula. So we fetched the car and continued to drive past some more small resorts where prospective sungods were packed onto rows of deckchairs on some really uninvitingly looking beaches. Someone should tell these people about the Clifton beaches!

Portofino ended up looking just like the photographs. It has a very small harbour which seemed to fit bigger yachts than one would have wanted to see. It’s Hollywood in Italy though. The buildings are all painted with 3D effect, which looks really pretty, but artificial and pretentious. Because Niel knew that I always dreamed of Portofino, he promised to treat me to some good Italian coffee at a street cafe. Walking through the town, I was happy to settle for a gelato. The final compromise? Getting out of there. After seeing the towns of Cinque Terre, being able to sit on a bench with the old town folk, or watching the kids play ball on the square, Portofino was just not Italy at all.

Very pleased to be back on the highway, we headed North to Piemonte, and after numerous tunnels, the countryside eventually gave way to a flatter plateau. And once you take the turnoff towards Barolo, the exquisite beauty of Piemonte’s abundance of vineyards reminds you why Italy is such a dream destination.

Our very first tip on accommodation for Italy was given to us by a couple we met at a wine tasting in Cape Town. We probably would not even have considered Barolo, but because this is Italy’s best wine region, we figured that it would be worth a try. What we certainly did not expect was to find the very same couple to just happen to be visiting Barolo at the same time. So, after bumping into someone that Niel knew from university in Portofino, for the second time today, we were able to chat away with people who understood everything we chattered about. It’s just such a small world.

Barolo is a typical little farm village. The various wine farms all have their tasting rooms in the village, and as luck would have it, this weekend happens to be their annual festival. Walking through the town was agonising for someone that had not eaten all day. The restaurants and bakery must have been getting ready for the potential clientele that the festival would bring, which meant an array of exquisite aroma. The town is not quite as historic as the hilltop towns we had been to, and the architectures differ, leaning towards some German influences, but it’s just beautiful, with its large castle at the one end, and its friendly inhabitants.

Supper was culinary heaven. The restaurant has a tasting menu, which basically means that you get a little bit of most of the items on the menu. We decided to share one. WOW. It would be impossible for me to describe just how stunning the food was. We were given a little bit of each starter. This consisted of:

• A liver Pate with caramelised unions and some black truffle shavings. This you had to eat with some sweet bread, and was just phenomenal.

• A vegetable salad, which was basically some vegetables (peas, carrots, etc) with some tuna and home-made mayonnaise.

• Cured beef with a tuna and mayonnaise sauce

• A zucchini pate with quail’s egg

• A ravioli filled with spinach and an egg. This was an absolute treat for me, as I had seen this being made on one of the travel channel’s programs, and found it so very fascinating

We could then choose one Primi and one Secondi piatti, so we tried the Porcini mushroom risotto, and were recommended the wild boar. I have absolutely no idea how anyone could handle this entire feast alone. We were really struggling to keep up, but with food that good, who could possibly stop? The final course was a Panna Cotta dessert, which just topped it all perfectly. This was by far the best we had eaten in Italy. It was probably by far the best we had eaten ever. And with a really friendly and helpful character as our waiter, and a beautiful view of the Piemonte countryside, it truly was an experience to remember.

Walking back to the guesthouse, we stopped to listen to a concert on the small town square, and even though we did not understand much of what was being said and sung, we thoroughly enjoyed the music. It’s not every day that you see a modern band that consists of a cello, two violins, a flute, and a guitar/singer.

Just when you think Italy cannot possibly get any better, it does.

Little boxes on the hilltop

9 September 2010


We must be at the sea. A cool sea breeze makes for much more tolerable temperatures. And with the clouds, we might even get some rain.

Getting to Corniglia’s train station means about 370 steps. Fortunately, we needed to go down. There are a few ways of travelling between the five towns of the Cinque Terre. Travelling by road is possible, but parking is always a problem, and the roads are extremely narrow and windy, so this just tests the nerves to the n’th degree! Then there is a ferry which somehow stops at 4 of the 5 towns (Corniglia is not at sea level, so it misses the fun of boat trips). Unfortunately, the wind means choppy seas, which means – no ferry. *humph*

So we chose the train option. Should you take a train from the first town (Riomaggiore) to the last (Monterosso), it would take you all of about 30 minutes, including stops. And so, starting at Corniglia, we first went to Vernazza, the next town North, then to Monterosso al Mare (the Northern most town), then back down South to the first town – Riomaggiore. And from here – wait for it - we walked to Manarola, and back to Corniglia.

So perhaps I should just explain the walking bits, so you don’t laugh too much! Between Riomaggiore and Manarola, there is a 1km trail along the coastline called the Via dell’Amore, or the Lovers’ walk. It’s no more than a 20minute walk, with breathtaking views of the coastline. And from Manarola to Corniglia is about another kilometer, although that one felt a bit longer, and had some uphill walking. This brings you back to Corniglia’s station. And no – we did not have to climb those 370 steps again. There is a cute little bus that takes the exhausted up to the town.

Visiting each of these towns, Niel kept on wondering why someone would want to build a town on such a mountainous coastline. Monterosso, the most modern, and least quaint of them all, is by far also the most walkable in terms of inclines, while Riomaggiore has such a steep main street, that you are almost forced to stop at the various shops along the way, if only to catch your breath. All the towns, except Corniglia, have harbours. But these are really miniscule, and fishing boats are really just very small two-man boats, with possibly an outboard engine. I could not help but wonder where exactly a ferry would moor.

We had a late lunch in Manarola, with Niel having the best fish he has had in a very long time, if not ever, and after the walk back to Corniglia, bought gelato for dessert, and decided to go sit on the benches with the old town folk. They certainly seemed rather confused at the way we disrupted their daily routine, with the men greeting, but only just, and the old ladies being slightly more friendly.

So these old people must have spent their lives building these villages, which then subsequently became Unesco World Heritage sites, and became overrun by toursists. At times, today, I felt like being as abrupt with some tourists, as we have experienced the Italians being somewhere between abrupt and rude with us (I had my train tickets and change virtually chucked at me today!). I suspect that, if you only managed to understand the old folk, you would hear them wishing that all these foreign people would go back to their countries. Well – at least those old folk that don’t run restaurants or shops, perhaps.

Today, we encountered some rarities. Some really beautiful old villages. Excellent food. An Afrikaans couple. A guesthouse owner knocking on our door in her pyjama’s for our payment. And a really friendly Italian at an internet cafe. They do exist after all : )