Pizza, pasta, prosciutto & parmagiana…

Italia 2007

Fri 12 Oct 07, 1.16pm, Edinburgh Airport

Although we’re only at the airport, its a relief just to even know we’re on our way. After a (fairly) hectic night of packing and organising, today has been far too busy to even think about the exciting week ahead. Tutor group AND lesson cover turned my day into a non-stop sprint, but as soon as we got to the airport, relief mode kicked in and we feel a wave of calm and relaxation swell and submerge us. This week is going to be wonderful!

Fri 12 Oct 07, 10.47pm, Bergamo Youth Hostel

Made it! Once again with a minimum of fuss. Although most of our time in Italy so far (in fact, all of it, apart from finding our car) has been shrouded in a mist of darkness, Louise and to some extent Cynthia seem to feel comfortable amongst their fellow Italians. After a hassle-free flight (departure delayed, but arrived on time – go figure!), we spent next to no time in customs and before we knew it we had picked up our speedy little Fiat Punto and were rather aimlessly driving around the suburbs of Bergamo. The layer of cloud/haze that covered the city when we arrived shrouded much of the town – hopefully tomorrow the weather will reveal a wee bit more.

My first day in Italy! (Well, only a few hours really…) The hostel, although a little bland and utilitarian, is great. Lots of space and our own room and bathroom. We found it remarkably painlessly, and driving on the right hand side of the road is slowly coming back to me! After settling in we popped down to a small corner store to grab some vino (top stuff – went straight to the head!) and a few Heinekens for a cruisy first night in Italy. We ordered some TRULY delicious pizza at reception (no grease in the box = oh, the porcini mushrooms!) and enjoyed an evening of wine, beer and pizza with a round or three of blackjack thrown in.

Already I can feel an enormous difference between, say, the Baltics or Poland and Italy. Here, the people are not wary of you – they are immediately welcoming and want to make the effort whereas the feeling in Russia, certainly, was apprehension and stand offishness. I suppose a history of suspicion will do that to you.

Time for bed. Up at 8.00am.

Sun 14 Oct 07, 8.00am, Riva del Garda Ostello

Well, I certainly wasn’t in a fit state to write last night! We’ve taken a very strong liking to Italy – and it’s culinary delights – very quickly! Even after only a day and a bit here, it feels comfortable, familiar, and completely different to any of the countries we visited earlier in the year. The people we’ve encountered are friendly and warm and the atmosphere is one of positivity.

We awoke in Bergamo to find the haze was here to stay – in fact it only got worse as the day progressed. A light and tasty breakfast of rolls, jam and yoghurt was devoured quickly enough, although Cynthia fell into the latte trap and ended up with a cup of warm milk. Soon enough it was time to make our way to Citta Alta, the old town. Turned out Louise was expecting a much smaller place – not sure what I was expecting, but the streets and hills of Bergamo’s old town were completely intoxicating. Stunning gothic churches and beautiful Renaissance facades – pretty much the perfect introduction to Italian architecture and style. We wandered up through Via Gombito past dozens of lip-lickingly tempting delicatessens and pizzerias to eventually reach the castle ruins (after a bit of rubbernecking at the gardens of the wealthy). Although the cloudy haze meant that the views weren’t quite as stunning as they could have been, Bergamo certainly entranced us.

We succumbed to a purchase of some cheese, ham, rolls and tomatoes to be devoured for lunch, accompanied with some divine octopus salad, and sat to eat back in the lower town near some gypsies (or hobos). Wow, what a stunning lunch! Just wonderful – the good life without doubt!

Time came to make our way to Lago di Garda, our next stop where, hopefully, we would find a bed and, more hopefully, the haze would clear. After re-reading our google maps directions a thousand times, we eventually made it to the autostrada and though we were on our way – alas, the gymnastics required to navigate according to the google maps map found us somewhat at a loss in regards to turn offs, exits, tolls and the like – SOMEHOW we following our noses (thanks to Navgirl Louise) and were on track to Salo, on the lake.

I’d like to be able to say that the hazy cloud that seemed to have settled over the entirety of Northern Italy was just a small inconvenience – alas, it really did impede our views, not only of Bergamo, but also of Lago di Garda. I imagine it would usually be a wonderfully beautiful lake – there are, after all, some of Italy’s biggest holiday parks lining it’s shores – but we could barely see over to the far side of the lake due to haze. Maybe from some fires in Greece? Will have to check the news.

The drive along the lake we just beautiful however. Tunnels reminiscent of Gran Turismo and sheer drops from the road to the lake made for some delicious scenery. We didn’t stop until Riva del Garda – our destination. A gorgeous (although perhaps a little touristy) town at the top end of the lake, Riva sits right underneath the sheer rocky mountains that guard the lake – you can even trudge up into the mountains to a ruin or distant chapel – looks like a hefty walk though. We eventually found the hostel and checked in, after many laps of the town centre. €15 each a night – not a bad deal with breakfast thrown in. Our arrival was celebrated with a nibble of cheese and a bottle of wine. I see a pattern developing…

Soon it was time for dinner and a wander (not necessarily in that order) and after browsing a few shoe shops – Lou is keen for some boots – we found a cute wee pub and kicked back to enjoy a campari and soda (with complimentary snacks!). Never tried campari before, and I must say it was bitterly delightful and delicious! We only stayed for one…

4.40pm, Verona Ostello

…(cont’d) before continuing our exploration of Riva, not to mention casting our discerning eyes over the many menus we encountered.

We just had to step in at a rather cheap and nasty looking milk bar for another (two) campari, served by the very gracious and accommodating owner with a bowlful of crisps. It was so peaceful and blissful to just sit and watch the world go by.

Eventually we returned to a restaurant near the pub we had perviously enjoyed for a good Italian meal – a bargain actually! (Fingers crossed the rest of our meals are as good!) Without even counting from the complimentary spumanti and pear sorbet all our dishes were stunning, especially the spinach gnocchi in sage and garlic butter… oh yeah… Washed down with a few carages of superb vino (superb in price rather than bouquet) and we had a great meal. And once again I’m waffling on about food… back to the hostel to bed – my Nuremburger buddy Christian, whom I had met previously in my dorm, had not yet returned home, but 11.30pm was certainly late enough and drunk enough for me.

I’d set my alarm for 7.00am in the ridiculous attempt to rise early and go for a walk – Christian had mentioned that the mornings had been very clear, and only during the middle of the day did the haze settle. Well, the church sounded oh, at least thirty times at 7.00am – no doubt the Sunday awakening – before ringing again at 7.30, then 8.00. No walk, of course, but I did manage to drag myself to the shower and then downstairs for nutella and rolls for breakfast, but not before having to wake Lou and Cynth only 45 minutes before checkout – both were a little heavy headed!

We packed the car and did manage a wee stroll down to the lakeside before finally returning to the car to start our journey to Verona. The clouds had not even tried to life, and at one stage we were even threatened by rain, but the east side of the lake was a beautiful trip, dotted with olive groves, campsites and plenty of tourists. We stopped at Garda, town of the same name as the lake, for a breather and a walk along the promenade. It is just such a joy to be here – to look out and see the towns and villas nestled amongst the hills – even if this accursed haze doesn’t disappear, its amazing to finally be in Italy.

Dave Matthews was doing a pretty good job of keeping us company as we hit the road again. This time our next stop would be Verona. I must admit, the outlying suburbs that we encountered as we entered Verona were not the most enamouring first impressions, but after today, every other impression will vanquish that one from my memory in no time.

Somehow, we made our way (after several detours and dead ends) to the ostello – a reconditioned villa in the north of Verona just underneath Castello San Pietro – it is just beautiful here – sitting in the garden as I write this, the setting light of the sun is peeking through the clouds to shroud this beautiful house (and equally sublime garden) in a warm glow – truly intoxicating and VERY Italian. No worries getting a room, but the dorms were shut between 9.00am and 5.00pm, so we parked the car (funny – all these Italian hostels seem to have ample parking but no kitchens for meal prep! Not that I’m complaining about eating out…) and set off on foot for the town centre.

You can feel the Venetian activity here (not to mention the Roman) and I think thus far I’ve not been in more entrancing place to wander than Verona. More tangible and warm than Tallinn, more romantic yet austere than Bergamo… just a place of cheeky character yet weighty austerity. Perhaps. Maybe I’m just talking rubbish.

The river, the bridges, everything we came across seemed enchanted. We strolled past the impressive Teatro Romano (ruined Roman Theatre) and across Ponte Pietra to enjoy a calzone in the middle of Piazza Erbe for lunch, then down to glance at the very impressive arena (complete with faux gladiator our the front, posing for photos) and then up to the rather tacky but somehow supremely romantic (and over visited) Giuliette’s balcony – just another balcony on just another house, but apparently at one stage it was inhabited by the real fair dinkum (did I actually just write that?) Capulet family, even though Juliet is nothing more than a figment of Bill Wagglestaff’s imaginitus.

We crossed the centre again, enjoyed a laze in a park (not before Scott purchased a spankin’ new cap from the markets!) where Cynth and I watched a disobedient puppy cause his owner some havoc whilst Lou enjoyed some non-alcohol induced sleep.

We have only been travelling for two days but it feels like we are fitting so much into those two days (every day in fact). We wandered back around the river, climbed the stairs of the nearby Teatro to Castello San Pietro for a magnificent view over the city, before returning to a our lavish hostel, where the gracious god of time, Secondo, has lent me some in order to get my journal, well, in order.

Change of plan for tomorrow – will need to leave early to get to Lou’s relatives’ place for 10.00am – she is understandably very excited – and me too! Lunch will be amazing no doubt…

17 Oct 07, 9.50pm, Rivalta Ostello, outside Mantova

Well, time flies when you’re having too much food! A crazy few days have passed with ZERO time to write in my journal, so will have to try and make up for lost time now.

A few things have come to my senses during the past few days. One is that overplanning and cramming itineraries seems to be a forte of mine – although in my defence this time we did have a few unplanned detours. However, the aim of this trip was to go with the flow and change plans if needs be – and so far it has been just wonderful!

When last I wrote we were about the right hungriness to enjoy a meal in Verona, and after much hunting around and waltzing from place to place we eventually made it to the first pizzeria we came across – man this trip is fun! The food everywhere is AMAZING – tonight I enjoyed a beautiful home-made pasta with porcini mushrooms – man were they good. So fresh and such a subtle sauce – just oil and garlic butter, but superb.

After a detour so Cynthia could enjoy a serve of bresaola stuffed with cream cheese (divine) we made our way back to the hostel – Cynth and I tool a detour back up to the castello above the Roman theatre to enjoy the lights of Verona at night. Then straight home to the hostel for a fairly early night as we were to meet Maria, relative of Lou and Cynth, tomorrow at 10.00am in Cittadella.

Aside from sheets that sounded like cardboard and a touch of snoritis from my roomies, I slept fine, rose early, had breakfast and soon we were off to meet Maria near the Duomo in Cittadella, a town near Padova. Our helpful hostellier suggested it would take around an hour and a half, but he hadn’t counted on it taking half an hour just to find the autostrada, let alone that the directions on google maps would be so obscure! Nevertheless, we found Cittadella, and eventually found Maria after circling the old town thrice and having to let Louise out to find her on foot. We drove her back to her care before following her to the family home near Camposampiero.

Maria is a moderately stern but immensely caring woman with a spring in her step and a lot of love for her family and friends. She made us very welcome, and was delighted to see Cynthia (who had somehow adopted the name Sylvia…) and meet me (although there was some trouble with my name).

Eventually (after much talking, drinking coffee, visiting the beautiful Castelfranco and me picking up as much Italian as I could), Maria had to leave for work (evening office cleaning) and we were left to the house with Ida, Dante’s cousin, a lovely old woman who is constantly shrouded in her handkerchief and apparently at times a little vague and mischievous, but very active for her 73 years – still plucking pigeons and picking mushrooms. She was a treat, and got on really well with Cynthia.

Eventually (twice in two paragraphs in fact) Fabio, 2nd cousin (?) to Lou and Cynth, arrived home. Fabio is deaf but knows more English than any of his family, and makes a great fist of not only communicating, but doing so in English. He is only slightly older than I and definitely a heap of laughs. After having a great chat and catch up (and another espresso) he took us around to see his sister, Loretta, her husband Ivan (whose English is excellent) and their beautiful boy Niccolo, whose pony tail is probably Ivan’s attempt to hold onto his youth! We had cake and wine and were going to find it difficult to get our of Italy without putting on a few kilos…

It had been decided that Lou’s other cousin, Alessandro, would also come over, and that we would head to Bassano that night, and then stay the night at the Belia house rather than head to Padova. We all knew this would probably happen, but what a treat – we had already been fed an amazing lunch of pasta soup and chicken and salad, so to find a meal of pasta, salads again (superbly cooked) and prosciutto and cheese served was better than good… Poland was great, but the food here has been astonishing!

Alessandro arrived and we all enjoyed watching the Alessandro and Fabio show, obviously well-rehearsed for a decade or so, before eventually having to hit the hay – big day awaited – another change of plans. It was to be another early start, this time to jump on the train at Campsampiero and head for Venezia! We hadn’t planned on seeing Venice, but Cynthia was very keen, so as soon as Maria suggested it and Louise took interest, it was decided – mainly it confirmed to me that we will need to visit Venezia again one day…

The train ride was uneventful, but the arrival – crossing the lagoon from the mainland – was spectacular, even in this shroud of haze that was still hanging around. The city appeared suspended on water, and it was such a different feeling to be in this amazing otherwordly city where the roads are canals and the whole city is sinking. So unique, but nowhere near enough time there. We barely had time to wander through the streets to Piazza San Marco, eat lunch, and then wander back to the train – just on three hours. I’d need three days next time! Must return!

The streets were intoxicating though. It was as if a mystery or revelation lay around every corner, and every wrong turn was a step closer to getting yourself wonderfully, blissfully lost. Glorious, but rushed for time. The crowds (human AND pigeon) in the piazza were huge, and quickly put any though of seeing the Basilica to rest.

Maria graciously offered to pick us up from the train station at Camposampiero, even though cancelled, missed trains and Maria’s work conspired to make it otherwise – such a generous woman – every word she spoke to me made me wish I could speak Italian!

Loretta, Ivan, Ivan (Loretta’s eldest son – 20) and Niccolo were going to come around for a feast, so we could all enjoy each others’ company – what a treat! Polenta, chicken, salads, bread, cheese, Loretta’s freshly made tiramisu and AWESOME roasted chestnuts (not to mention some superb wine) were laid out on show – perhaps Lou had too much, but I thought it an amazing meal. We were spoilt!

The night disappeared quickly amid eating, not-understanding Italian, listening, playing with Niccolo, learning not to try and trick Niccolo, and just generally having an amazing time. The smile of Lou’s face was more than enough to warrant the extra night there, and after photos, ciaos and kisses, it was time to curl up with a deliciously warm duck down doona and dream sweetly…

18 Oct 07, 8.44am, Rivalta del Mincio Ostello

Another early start. We had a bite of fruit and coffee to eat with Maria before planning today’s journey – wasn’t quite sure where we would end up today – either Mantova or Parma – but it was decided that we would first head for Bassano del Grappa, a wonderful town nestled under the mountains, and a particularly special place as it was one of many towns that Reno (Maria’s husband) took Louise to visit last time she was there. Once again, the haze thwarted our beautiful vistas, but the feel of the place was not lost. Mount Grappa loomed over the outskirts of the town and a beautiful river meandered through it. We loved the beautiful Ponte delgi Alpini that traversed the river, and even found some grappa to taste and bring home as a souvenir. Mmmmm…

The traffic was ordinary incidentally – unless we were on the autostrada, there wasn’t much chance of being in a hurry (although some of the drivers would have fit right in in Lithuania). We followed the signs (and our noses once again) to Padova.

Originally (weeks ago) the plan had been to have a whole day in Padova, and it would have been lovely as, to be honest, we did rush our visit here just a tad. Padova looked destined to become a parking hell, but we found one as well as ourselves (on the map) before we got too frustrated, and hit the streets on foot to spend a few hours exploring.

Padova had a bustling, exciting feel to it. We wandered amongst markets, picked up a great jacket for €40, and jumped out of the way as bicycles constantly flew past – if Verona was the city of Vespas, Padova certainly seemed to have the monopoly on bicycles! Of course, the renowned University of Padova has much to do with that. After making our way down to San Antonio Basilica – a wondrous and huge cathedral near the south of town – I left Louise and Cynth to rest and arrange some lunch as I wandered, sans map, back to try and find the car. On route I (think I) passed through the centre of the university district on streets thronged with bikes and cafes crowded with students – it was a Wednesday after all, and classes would be in full swing.

I found the car – right where we left it funnily enough – and went to pick up Lou and Cynth by following signs, driving in bus only lanes, doing illegal turns and generally just getting lost. Eventually I found them and we set off for Mantova.

As usual, the first challenge was to find the autostrada, which we somehow managed to accomplish, but the next challenge – choosing the right exit – was beyond me. Louise made a very meritable and eventually correct suggestions, but stubborn Scott decided it was the wrong one and kept on driving. By the time we did get off the autostrada, it had probably set us back an hour or so. Oh well. Enjoy the scenery.

It was nice to wander the back roads though. Many of the farms we passed had been harvested and lay fallow as winter approached, and most of the towns we encountered were hubs of production and industry. We made a few unscheduled stops (for supplies and toilet) but it wasn’t too late when we hit Mantova – around 5.00pm. Seeing the city spread out on across the other side of the lake as we approached was stunning, the skyline haunting.

It would be here, or near to here, and not Parma that we would stay for the night. Lou had done her homework and found a small town just outside of Mantova – Rivalta del Mincio – and a small hostel on the riverbank to stay at. The setting here is beautiful – a sleepy little town with a collection of houses bugging the streets, and a bar in the hostel that seems to be very popular with the locals! We were the only customers to appear at first, and momentarily it seemed we would have the dorm to ourselves, but soon we had company.

19 Oct 07, 10.28pm, San Michele B&B, Albertano, near Parma

To continue the story of Rivalta del Mincio… a French-American couple arrived (intriguing and dastardly combination) who insisted upon split sex dorms – OK, not a problem. We’re happy to tow the party line – but apparently Michelle (the American-Frenchwoman) then decided to take over the girls bathroom as well as pretty much rule the roost! Luckily a german couple were also there to buffer the brunt of our encounters with Michelle. Her partner Bill (a good French name) was remarkably silent and/or absent most of the time.

We headed back into Mantova to find some dinner – parking turned out to be not the best fun ever – and enjoyed a wander through the streets. The place was very quiet – I don’t imagine there are too many tourists around here outside of summer – but in one of Mantova’s charmingly disarming piazzi we found a rather touristy-looking ristorante to indulge our appetites. I had my reservations (no pun intended) about how commercial the place seemed, but after my pizza, well, I needn’t have worried. Once again a 10/10 meal. Can there Italians do no wrong?

It was here that the prosciutto started tasting REALLY good – the pizza was one instance, another being the bresaola on Lou’s pizza, and certainly the ham we had the next day was superb. However, it was a gelato night, which we thoroughly enjoyed as we made our way back to the car.

Best laid plans… we had hoped to enjoy a bottle of Fragolino or grappa after the meal back at the hostel, but Lou’s tummy forced her into an early night, so I joined Cynth for a drink in the bar and watched the football as I fruitlessly attempted to finish the days events in my journal. At least I’m making an effort – that kind of daily discipline is not one of my strong points.

The Germans were off very early the next morning, and a toilet stop at 5.45am was greeted gaily with the thought of at least another two hours sleep! Soon enough it was up-time, pack the car, have a coffee and back to Mantova for some more exploration.

The haze thickened today, and it was almost impossible to even see the other side of the lake. We found a car park and wandered again – this time the piazzi were chockas full of markets and locals out for a bargain. Our wanderings led us down to the lakeside where the streets were practically deserted! Apparently everyone had either gone to the markets or stayed at home today.

20 Oct 07, 7.49am, Sam Michele B&B, Albertano, near Parma

Still in Mantova – an interesting town. Far more relaxed and conducive to aimless wandering than Padova (maybe having more time to spend here had a little to do with it too) and once again, our staple lunch of cold meats, bread and cheese was a big hit (goats cheese this time – delicious!) which we rapidly devoured on the waterfront.

It was around this time, probably earlier, that we became aware that to head to La Spezia and Cinque Terra on this trip would simply not work out – too far to drive and too far out of the way. This left the conundrum of what to do on our way to Milan, which was suddenly much closer. Towns like Cremona were discussed, but eventually we settled on a visit to Modena, quickly researched by Louise.

Our trip to and arrival in Modena was ominous – grey clouds and a few drops of rain heralded our arrival at the youth hostel, where we gratefully accepted a four-berth dorm form around €50, and before long hit the streets.

Modena turned out to be a great choice. The piazzi markets were shut down by the time we got there, and the towering Duomo dwarfed the cafes that dotted the area. Lou played an excellent tour guide and when the time for dinner arrived, a ristorante that was recommended by our (not so) trusty Rough Guide did the trick – superb pasta, tasty pizza and great win. The usual really… one of our highlights in Modena came at the beautiful Cafe dell’Orologio (one of Pavarotti’s favourite haunts, Modena being his home town) where we sampled a Pavarotti martini – vodka martini with pepper and balsamic vinegar. Wow, what a treat!

A bottle of Lambrusco somehow made it’s way into our possession on the walk back to the hostel, so we felt obliged to imbibe that once we got back, which meant that Scott had a rather sizeable headache the next morning.

There had been a brisk shower the night before which cleared a little of the air, but things were still misty when we rose. We were well and truly past the halfway point of our trip now, and although today Scott had last shower (a rare treat), we still were a little tardy in departure. Louise led us to tourist infor to try and hook up a tour of a balsamic vinegar “brewery” – tasting definitely required.

21 Oct 07, 5.53pm, Bergamo Airport, Gate 2

…which is not much of a gate actually. More like a glorified bus stop with drinks. Although the German beer was a little heavy…

It was quite easy to find the villa where the balsamic vinegar was made (Villa San Donnino) and upon arrival we were greeted by Davida, the owner, and his pets – dogs and cats galore, one of whom had a strong desire to play football with Cynthia. The tour was free – making it a bargain before we had even arrived – and Davida proceeded to show us the process involved in creating the vinegar, as well as the difference between the stuff you purchase from the shelves at Coles and the traditional, authentic grape-must only stuff. The batteria of casks laid out before us constructed of cherry, oak, juniper, ash, mulberry and something else…the aroma was just as strong as any winery or whiskey distillery, but not as pungent, and a real treat.

24 Oct 07, 10.55pm, Back home in the lounge room

I’ve fallen into the trap of waiting until I got home to finish the journal – hopefully not too much has escaped my memory – such as previous entries where I completely neglected to mention stopping in at a small town to have a look around on the way to Modena – Carpi. The main square was massive – not Red Square massive, but large by Italian standards – and although it started to rain, we enjoyed a short stroll before heading off to Modena.

Anyway, back to the main story… we ended up spending far too much money of various balsamic purchases – it was just too good to miss – including the condiment (which we have already put to good use), the authentic 12 years old vinegar – grape must only, no sulphites or additives – and some balsamic jelly and walnut liquor – divine. If only I could share with everyone!

We were soon back on route to Parma, and looking forward to a relaxing day tasting lots of prosciutto and parmigiana cheese. Parma seemed a lovely place to visit at first glance, but finding either of the hostels in the Rough Guide proved a far trickier task. After much driving, wandering and a few phone calls, it was discovered that our first choice of hostel no longer existed! Great. Waste of an hour and a half (although we managed to find a lovely spinach and ricotta slice to enjoy for lunch). We jumped back in the car and managed (eventually) to find the other hostel, a mammoth purpose-built centre north of town, from which we would have to either drive the car and find a park, or walk for forty minutes just to get to town. No thanks – not at the price they were asking. It was decided that maybe a B&B was a good option – different and if we found one well and truly outside of town, we could perhaps see a little more of the countryside.

Well, in order to facilitate this option, Scott dropped the others off to walk to tourist info whilst he found a car park and would meet them there. BIG MISTAKE. Another 45 minutes doing laps of Parma city trying to find a car park only to be told three times that it was forbidden to park there. I wanted to cry!

Eventually I bit the bullet and chose a parking station that wasn’t murderously far away and walked to tourist info in a fit of silent rage (as much rage as I could muster anyway, which was not a lot) to find Lou and Cynth organising what turned out to be a bargain. (The silver lining!)

They’d booked (with the assistance of the very helpful dude at tourist info) a B&B in a small town called Albertano – so small it’s not even on our map – about half an hour from Parma. That would give us a couple of hours to wander around Parma, head to the B&B and then find a meal in the quaint little nearby town of Fontanellato, renowned for its moated castle in the town centre. Sounded like a good plan.

Unfortunately, wandering around Parma had not the appeal it first did when we arrived, as we had since wasted four hours to essentially book accommodation out of town. On the flip side, we hadn’t had any trouble whatsoever with accommodation so far, so we couldn’t really complain.

Parma was very, very beautiful though, and like the other towns we’d cruised through, deserved more of our time. We wandered around the austere yet majestic old palace and up to the Duomo, enjoying a beer on the way, as the sun finally decided to come out and reveal a glorious blue sky – the first real clear day (as in sans-haze) we’d had.

We went back to the car and began our search for San Michele in Albertano – a little difficult as signs were posted only sporadically, but the directions that were given to Louise were spot on and very precise. We arrived in not too long a time to the great surprise of Laura, our host, who was amazing we didn’t get lost or need to call to ask directions. Louise thanked the sat-nav built into my head. I thanked our noses.

The villa we were staying in was extraordinary. Beautifully furnished room, in which we were made to feel right at home, and stunning bathroom (the shower was a treat after numerous hostel showers) were only two of the rooms in the massive three storey villa.

26 Oct 07, 7.44pm, the lounge room again…

At €80 for all three of us, the B&B was certainly more expensive to what we were used to paying at hostels, but the beds were beautifully comfortable, superb shower and bathroom, and even a piano downstairs that looked awfully tempting. Laura made sure we were very comfortable, made our beds, gave us water, took requests for breakfast and generally made our stay very VERY enjoyable!

After a short glass of Lambrusco (quickly becoming the wine of choice for the trip) we set out to find a meal in nearby Fontanellato, a charming and beautiful small town whose walled castle – absolutely glorious in the setting sun – was a feature. We arrived, parked, and set our for a stroll, and to hopefully find a worthy restaurant for the evening.

Lots of places seem to shut down when summer departs – a few restaurants in Fontanellato were no exception. A couple around the castello seemed promising, and the one we settled on, Locande Nazionale, didn’t open until 8.00pm. OK, we had some time to kill.

We were rather hungry, and had come to the Parma region to enjoy some good food, so it only seemed reasonable to seek out a suitable gastronomy for a taste of some Parma ham as an apertif. Mmmmm, local, freshly cut and just delicious!

Still not 8.00pm – time for a drink. We had passed a fairly well populated bar a few times on our stroll and popped in for an aperol or wine – the bartender was very friendly and amidst free-poured spirits and consultations with me as to the best size of my drink, ended up supplying us with free olives, parmagiana cheese and sausages. Love Italy!

Our time rolled around, and although the restaurant wasn’t nearly as bust as the waiter had earlier suggested, it looked like it was ready for a throng. We sat and braced ourselves. Entree: delicious prosciutto stuffed with spinach and parmgiana – just amazing. Dare I say even better than Cynthia’s Verona treat. Mains (we didn’t feel up for the primo and secondo courses): lasagna, fresh, homemade and the best I’d tasted; veal and polenta for Cynth in a sauce that was apparently very similar (if not the same as) her father’s masterpieces, and a gnocchi that just about floored Louise – identical to her Nonna’s recipe. The meal was authentic (although Laura’s husband later expressed his indifference, particularly to the price) and such a blast from the past for Lou and Cynth. We were happy campers as we made our way home and crawled into bed.

We rose early the next day to journey to Milan and enjoy our final days in Italy (for now…). Breakfast was superb – eggs and prosciutto, yoghurt, toast, juice, coffee, biscotti and more ham, cheese and delicious little sweet mandarins. I think we all suffered a little from Laura’s hospitality that morning.

After it was revealed that I was a music teacher, I was obliged to roll off a few tunes on the piano after our host (curses – I forget his name!) admirable displayed his self-taught efforts at Nessum Dorma and Bocelli. Nitin Sawhney got a run, as did Keith Jarrett after I discovered that Laura was a fan. It brought a smile to their faces and we made our way to Milan in good spirits.

We had arranged a stop on the way – in Seragna, a nearby town which housed a museum dedicated to the history and making of Parmagian-Reggiano cheese. The museum was fantastic, not least the free exhibition that was given after the museum by a local who had taken it upon himself to create a very thorough collection of memorabilia concerning how life has been lived in the Seragno area over the last century. He was a treat – a real character whom we understood perfectly through Louise’s excellent translation. The tasting of the cheese was a highlight though, and brought to light the difference between Parmagiana-Reggiano cheese, and cheese made in the parmagiana style – parmesan.

Upon arrival in Milan, the city certainly seemed like an exciting place to be – even from the driver’s seat. Traffic made things difficult, but no more so than Sydney, so we studied our nap, got our bearings and soon made our way to the hostel.

Shit.

Booked out.

Not just full, but COMPLETELY full. That sign that makes it very clear that there is not one single bed left was firmly stuck to the door – in front of us a handful of British travellers were hoping against hope for a room, but we left and began the ring around for other hostels and B&B’s. Now, I knew that most places shut down during the middle of the day, but after close to an hour we had not reached anyone who was not full in either Milan or Bergamo. Time was not on our side today.

Time to explore. We would seek out tourist info on our journey and seek their assistance. But first, Milan awaits!

The Piazza del Duomo, and the Duomo itself, was breathtaking. Outside, it’s gothic façade was haunting, even in bright sunshine, where it sat vulture-like watching over the fashionistas parading by. I certainly felt out of place in Milan – almost as if it were no place for travellers – fashion conscious only please! The boutiques of D&G, Gucci and Prada nearby certainly did nothing to deter my impressions – one of a beautiful city, filled with beautiful people, but very aware of its beauty and image. And proud of it.

Inside the Duomo I felt like I was in the Fellowship of the Ring – under the mountain, but instead of a gazillion goblins to contend with, it was a gazillion tourists, all openly defiant of the request to not take photos. Just rude really.

We strolled to La Scala, through the stunning covered shopping arcade of Galleria Vittorio Emanuele… if only time allowed us to stay and see and opera. Maybe another time. We made our way to Via Dante, where a glorious exhibitions of National Geographic photos was on display. Here we tried our luck at a number of different accommodation options, only to be turned back at each pass. This was getting frustrating and rather seriously starting to dent our enjoyment of Milan. The frustration continued to build and eventually we decided to head for Bergamo via a campsite on the outskirts of Milan – our last chance for accommodation here, where they weren’t picking up the phone. It has been a great trip, and largely due to having the flexibility of not having booked ahead, but now we were paying the price of that flexibility.

Cynth left us to meet up later, so Lou and I strolled down to the imposing Castello Sforzesco at the other end of Via Dante, populated by hordes of tourists and seemingly as many African hawkers, selling fake leather goods and trying to wrap friendship bands around your wrist. We had to be a little cautious here.

The castle itself was indeed impressive, although we only strolled around the courtyards and grounds. The beautiful red brick was brought to life in the afternoon sun (which was now making an extended appearance) and we managed to find a few moments to rest, relax, ignore our lack of accommodation, and just breathe it in… this was the first big city, apart from little more than a glance at Venice, on our trip, and once again it reinforced the need for me to dedicate more than just a cursory few hours to a place when I visit it. Milan also now was on the return list.

The sense of style and self-awareness that permeated most of what, and whom, we saw here was inescapable. We had hoped to do a little fashion shopping in Milan before returning to Bergamo, but the circumstances and disposition of our visit meant now that time was precious indeed – after meeting Cynthia and making our way back along Via Dante, it was impossible not to point out a lovely pair of boots in a shop window, and thence equally impossible for Louise not to want them. So now Lou has a pair of boots from Milan – a very nice keepsake indeed.

Finding the campsite was not the easiest task in the world. Although our trusty Rough Guide (which had let us down a little in Modena) put us in the general direction, it took some ingenuity and a stop at a bus stop on a busy road to work out how to find the place. Nevertheless, eventually we did. Although the ‘bungalows’ on offer were ridiculously simple, at €47 for three of us, the price was perfect, and it would indeed save us a journey that evening to Bergamo. We opted to stay in the box and allow ourselves a cold but relaxing night in the campsite, enjoying Lambrusco and the biggest, thickest pizza I’ve ever experienced! Shame I didn’t get a photo of that one…

The campsite, although packed full of campervans, was certainly far from full of people, although it a nice selection of geese, goats and chickens were kept on site for our company. Louise’s health wasn’t the best today – upset tummy playing havoc – but she bravely soldiered on. With only a bar heater to warm us though, the night fluctuated between stiflingly hot and bitterly cold (depending upon who could be bothered to get up and turn on or off the heater!)

Sunday greeted us with a chill, and as we packed our bags (properly, for the first time since picking up the car) we enjoyed the last of our cereal, fruit and yoghurt before paying, inexplicably charged for only two people, and were off, trying to find our way to Bergamo. Numerous times we followed the signs to Bergamo, only for the sign to mysteriously disappear further down the road. Great. Luckily the autostrada proved an easier search, and the road fell beneath our wheels easily once again.

Our last day in Bergamo was far clearer than it had been upon our arrival, and the old town was beautifully framed against the clear blue sky as we approached. It was truly one of the most memorable sights, and one of the places I enjoyed the most on our trip. We found a small Sunday market to patronise, and enjoyed a stroll up to Citta Alta again for a delicious brie and bresaola roll. Alas, our time was soon up, and we filled the car (another trial!), dropped it off and enjoyed one last gelato at the airport whilst waiting to check in – a few impatient punters fell to arguing behind us, but I wasn’t long before we were glumly watching Bergamo fade away beneath us, and journey back to Edinburgh.

I fell in love with Italy. The food, the people, the beautiful cities…although nine days is a drop in the ocean, and the region we enjoyed was not exactly the most scenic, the experience and the atmosphere that we soaked up whilst there was unforgettable. Louise’s relatives made us feel so welcome, and the taste in my mouth and warmth in my heart from this trip definitely leaves me wanting more. A week in Tuscany in February is definitely on the cards…