Our traditional summer vacation this year was really five trips wrapped into one month away from Santa Cruz: time wandering in Italy, a hike in the Alps, a visit in Spain, a conference in New York, and a birthday in St. Louis.
Of course, before we even got to the first of those five chunks, we actually had a sixth bonus trip thrown in! Sort of…
We booked our flight from San Francisco to Milan on TAP, a Portuguese airline. A few weeks before we left, they let us know that our connection in Lisbon had changed, leaving us with a 9 hour layover there. Since the airport is right in the city, we took it as an opportunity to spend about 6 hours running around Lisbon, our first time ever in Portugal.
We made our way downtown on subway cars featuring cork seats (is that cute, funny, or just kitschy?) to a station with dozens of great caricatures of significant Portuguese artistic and political figures.
From there, we simply wandered. We grabbed the best pastéis de nata I’ve ever had and some fun seafood for lunch at the Time Out market hall and then spent a few hours going up and down the hills admiring fantastically-tiled buildings, an array of plazas from grand to cozy, an elevator for ascending the steeps hillside, and the “world’s oldest bookstore” among other things.
Besides the buildings, many of the sidewalks and plazas also featured great tile work.
The overall beauty probably came in a close second to the pastéis de nata for my favorite thing in our brief visit. If you haven’t had one, make a point of finding those next chance you get. Creamy, flaky, sweet, delicious.
So, bonus trip out of the way, we zipped back to the airport to catch our very very late night flight to Milan to get started on our real vacation…
This, the first, and largest, chunk of our time away was a plan to tour several northern Italian cities with our friends John and Annie Rose. We’ve traveled with them before, most notably in Peru in 2013 and Ecuador in 2023, but we also see them several times a year, either visiting them in LA or when they come to Santa Cruz. We even brought our cats for a visit at their place once when smoke filled the air in Santa Cruz during the CZU fire in 2020.
For years the four of us have dreamed about retirement, often jokingly suggesting that we would get a little place (outside the US) to share as a “footprint” — a base for travel where we could store some basics and have a cozy retreat to meet up in every once in a while. About a year ago, I asked the other three if we were at all serious about this plan. I guess the answer is “probably, leaning towards yes” at this point.
So, this summer we decided to explore northern Italy together to see if anywhere there felt like a reasonable spot to dream on. John still hopes to convince the rest of us that some tiny village in Nicaragua is the way to go (he loves the surfing there), but he also believes in democracy and knows when he’s on the losing side. He also finds it unfortunate that we all seem to prefer Italian cuisine over Spanish or Portuguese. Alas.
So, off to northern Italy for two weeks together. We picked 4 places we wanted to check out in particular: Genoa, with good beach access (but little surfing); Turin, which Jess and I had enjoyed on our last visit; Brescia, home to some new friends (see here and here); and Bologna, which we were universally warned we would love (spoiler alert: we did).
After our 2am arrival in Milan, Jess and I woke up too late for the first train to Genoa, so the four of us took a quick wander to the center of the city before heading to the train station.
It turns out that we should have reversed our plan. When we arrived at the station, we found that all of the tickets for the next train were sold out — instead of a late morning train, we were only able to get seats on a mid-afternoon one. I guess we should have anticipated that traveling on a Saturday morning down to the cool waters of the coast during a heat wave might be a popular option. So, we arrived in Genoa a bit later than anticipated, but no other harm done.
All told, we spent about two days in Genoa and really enjoyed our time there. Genoa is definitely a port city, and like many places we’ve seen on the coast of Italy, it has a narrow flat strip near the sea and then a steep hillside up. We got a cute little apartment near the top of a pedestrian stairway linking the flats to the first tier of the hills above. The alternative ways to reach the apartment were either a very windy bus route up the hillside or a funicular. In other words, it was not a modest little climb up there.
Genoa helped set some patterns for the rest of the trip. First of all, we didn’t really “do” much in the classic tourist sense. We didn’t visit a lot of historic sites. We went to zero museums. We didn’t do much shopping (other than groceries). Of course, we never do much shopping, so, really, that’s nothing special. Anyhow, most of what we did was walk around, talk, and eat a lot of delicious food.
Oh. We also got sick. That was a negative. But still a pattern.
Our first afternoon and evening was mostly spent exploring the tight, slightly dank alleys of the old city. After passing the wide, palace-lined expanse of Via Garibaldi, the narrow streets were a nice shaded relief from the sun. It was fun getting lost in there, occasionally coming across a church, a plaza, or a restaurant with seating spilling out into the street. It was also amusing seeing the occasional (very small) car trying to negotiate the (even smaller?!?) streets.
By the way, did you notice the flags on Via Garibaldi there? Yeah. Evidently the flag of Genoa is exactly the same as the flag of England — it has something to do with St. George. But when we arrived, the World Cup was going on, and I was very confused why everyone in this city was supporting England. I mean, Italy wasn’t in the tournament, but England felt like an odd choice. And so much unity behind a foreign team! And then I realized it wasn’t England. It was just their flag. Which was indistinguishable. I was confused. But in a new way…
One of our favorite spots we found among the twisty streets on that first night was the Cathedral of San Lorenzo. The zebra pattern was gorgeously done, and the piping of the various types of pillars was maybe a little over the top, but pretty nonetheless.
AR has a photo of me riding that lion, but despite saying she was going to share her photos with me, she hasn’t, so y’all don’t get to see it. That’s what happens when friends let you down.
We ate well in Genoa, and that started on night one. Right at the top of our street there was a place that basically just served pizza and farinata. Genoa is the land of pesto, so pesto pizza it was. The pesto there was a very creamy variety. And it was delicious. And farinata? What’s that, you ask? It’s a chickpea flour fried pancake thing. We had a variety of those, but the one with onions was out of this world good. That’s really one of the best things about Italian cooking — a few simple ingredients, but put together just right.
We also had the first of many gelatos to come…which is, really, the absolute best things about Italian cuisine. Just the fact that they have gelato. That’s it. That’s the best. And we settled into a lovely tradition of starting most days with a cappuccino and a pastry.
Our second day, we took an epic walk across the city and out to a suburban beach. This was, unfortunately, the day that jet lag hit me and I was a bit of a zombie at times. We saw some more of what various parts of the city looked like, with a distinct variation the further we wandered from the urban center: houses got larger, apartment buildings got smaller, and many areas looked generally better cared for, but all of it was less wild and exciting.
Eventually, we came to a series of beaches. Some were public and packed with people. Others were linked to various bars and such, with more limited access. Pretty much all of them were more rocky than sandy. Eventually we took a bus out to Nervi, where we’d learned there was a bit of a sandy swimming beach. After a pleasant lunch there we jumped in the water briefly, but it wasn’t all that great. Cool, a little mucky feeling, and with a big sea wall blocking any view. Verdict: disappointing beaches.
The more interesting explorations of Genoa were uphill. Our first night in town, we went to the Belvedere Castelletto, a point that juts out above the downtown with great views (and also a number of cafes and gelaterias). The day after our beach trip, John, AR, and I took a longer hike winding up and down the hillside. (We left Jess behind — our first victim of illness.) It was a fun exploration of how people live in such a steep environment. The views and the winding streets, tunnels, and many pedestrian alleys and stairways make it a fascinating three-dimensional urban environment. However, it also convinced us that it might not be the best place for retirement. Watching some of the old folks struggle up giant staircases with bags of groceries made it look like a difficult life for the aged.
With Jessica a slightly faded version of herself, we left that afternoon on the train to Turin, where we quickly got Jess settled in for the evening before John, AR, and I wandered out into the city.
It was a double gelato day.
A good day.
In fact, one of the gelaterias (Aria) that Jessica had thankfully researched for us, was just two blocks from our apartment and had both amazing traditional flavors (John got stracciatella at basically every gelato stop) and some incredible experimental ones (I had a lemon ricotta something? I don’t remember exactly). AR, John, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. When we, later in the trip, received the list of the 100 best gelaterias in Italy, it was on the list. Deservedly so.
Of course, we weren’t the only ones enjoying a treat that day. So were the pigeons in Piazza Castello.
The next day we managed to get Jess out with us for a morning walk, but she stayed in for the afternoon, and by mid-afternoon, Annie Rose got the bug too. So, overall, our wanderings around Turin were a bit sporadic, and rarely featured a fearsome foursome. Whether it was food poisoning, heat, a virus, or perhaps the slightly toxic swimming at Nervi, something got those two pretty bad.
Nevertheless, we all rather liked Turin. (Well, to be honest, Jess mostly remembers liking it from our last visit.) It’s a busy city, but surrounded by green hills and with a fairly low-traffic center city with some great plazas, good food, and did I mention gelato? Also of note, there are a bazillion museums. Jess and I went to several on our previous trip. Zero this time. It’s a short train ride from the Val d’Aosta where Jess and I hiked a few years ago, so there’s good access to mountains, and obviously not too far from the coast either. Overall, it felt like a good possibility, but given that both Jess and AR missed some time there, it may need a second look.
One of the most interesting spots we visited was the Cimitero Monumentale di Torino. Annie Rose likes to check out cemeteries to see how various cultures remember people, so we wandered this vast array of tombs for over an hour. There were some more modest walls full of individual memorials, but there were also miles upon miles of ginormous tombs. Not quite the pyramids of Egypt, but leaning that direction. As we wilted in the afternoon’s heat (this was just before AR dropped), we were stunned by the sometimes beautiful, sometimes tasteless, and all over-the-top displays of wealth.
After a couple of days hobbling about Turin, it was time to move on again. Dragging AR along, we hopped a train to Brescia.
Brescia?!?
That seems to be most people’s reaction when I review our travel itinerary. Brescia is far less well known than any of the other places we spent much time. The other cities are in the top 10 for population in Italy. Brescia is 15th, with about 200,000 people.
So, why Brescia?
Well, first of all, Brescia has occupied a significant place on my mental map of Italy since February 2024, when I went on an accidentally amazing adventure with Dani and Irene, two women from Brescia. (And Michele too! But she’s from Chicago, and not part of our current story.) But, beyond that, we were attracted to the location, as well as the potential peacefulness of a smaller city.
So, Brescia.
Brescia is located about an hour train ride east of Milan and two hours west of Venice, between Lago d’Iseo and Lago di Garda. We decided to stay long enough there to make good use of the location. So, before I talk more about Brescia, let’s look at the three days we traveled out from Brescia…
Our first excursion from Brescia was a trip to Lago d’Iseo. Specifically, we took a train to Sulzano, and then a ferry out to Peschiera Maraglio, a tiny town on Monte Isola, which is a rather large island in the middle of the lake. From there, we spent the day hiking about three quarters of the way around the island. (With our various states of recovery from illness and the ridiculous heat, we weren’t quite up for hiking to the top of the mountain.) We stopped for a swim — cool, but pleasant (so much more pleasant than the ocean near Genoa) and a good way to escape the heat — and just generally enjoyed the surroundings.
On the south side of the island, we had views back towards the fields and towns of southern Lombardy, but as we circled to the north, we could see the looming peaks as the land rises up towards the Alps. And the island itself was beautiful. It had all the hallmarks of the Italian countryside, but with an even greater level of peacefulness, only occasionally interrupted by a tiny delivery truck or a few locals on motorcycles. Our day looked something like this…
The next day, we took a train the other direction out of Brescia, heading an hour east to the home of Romeo and Juliet, Verona. Verona is a similar size to Brescia, and (obviously) in the same region of the country, but so, so different. Whereas Brescia was calm and quiet, Verona was busy, busy, busy. Mostly, this was due to the flocks of tourists everywhere. Most people we told we were going to Brescia asked us, “Where?” and people in Brescia often asked us, “Why are you here?” That was not a question about Verona.
Verona felt like every stereotype of why people like visiting Italy rolled into one: beautiful plazas, narrow streets, ancient and medieval history, art, and architecture. Just, overall, a lovely place. We spent the morning taking a walking tour led by a young Croatian art history student, and the afternoon poking around the various famous churches and trying to escape the heat with shade and granita. (Granita, if you don’t know, is the much better, actually Italian, version of the Italian Ice you probably had somewhere as a child.) Verona looked a bit like this…
One other fun tidbit our guide showed us — fossils in some of the paving stones just past the Porta Borsari.
After lunch, we decided to check out some of the churches as a way to guide ourselves around the city (and get out of the sun from time to time — the crypts in some were a particularly nice place to cool down). First up was the Basilica di Sant’ Anastasia, a beautiful gothic wonder. The vaulted ceilings were great, but I also really loved the various tiling patterns on the floor and the red, white, and black throughout were just gorgeous.
Shortly after we arrived, the organist did as well. [I spent about 20 minutes trying to get this video to embed correctly, so I’m giving up now. Just click here (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nBMwXL7kPn8) to see the church and hear the organ.] It was very pleasant.
From there, we wandered over to the somewhat older Duomo di Verona. While still impressive, it was more austere than Sant’ Anastasia, and therefore, less fun to putter around.
On the other hand, the third church was worth the long walk we took to get there. The Basilica di San Zeno Maggiore is another medieval church, but a far more beautiful one than the Duomo. It has a lovely cloister that you pass through upon entering, and while it is also stark, like the Duomo, it is just…nicer? The starkness here leans into the medievalness, with gorgeous colorful stonework. And there are some great bits of surviving medieval frescoes. One of the coolest parts was the bronze doors — large wooden doors covered with tons of bronze castings depicting bible scenes and some of the miracles worked by the church’s saint, Zeno. There were also two massive bronzes that serve as door handles.
Finally, we wandered back across town to the fourth stop on our church tour, the Chiesa di San Fermo…
…but, they were just locking up as we arrived. We were a little churched out, anyhow, so we took that as a sign (from God?) and grabbed a bus back to the train station and, from there, we returned to Brescia.
So, the question was, is Verona somewhere we might want to live someday? The verdict felt like it might be a tough one. It’s an absolutely stunningly beautiful city. Similar to Brescia, it’s in a great location near the lakes and not far from the mountains. But, it was like being in Italian Disneyland. It was too neat, too clean, too managed and manicured. And, above all, way, way, too packed with tourists. Just wall to wall people wandering around in clumps to see one site after another. On top of that, the obvious popularity makes it quite expensive in terms of housing. So, all in all, Verona turned out to be one of the easiest places to cross off our list.
Our last day in Brescia was also our last trip out of town. We took the same train we’d taken to Lago d’Iseo, but rode about 2 hours north to the little town of Sonico, well into the lower reaches of the Alps. We’d mapped out a hike from there up to a mountain hut, Rifugio Val Malga, and back down. Unfortunately, this was John’s day not to feel well, and he grumbled through much of the steep, 11 mile hike. Nevertheless, he made it, and enjoyed much of it despite the low energy.
We started out ascending through the upper reaches of Sonico and then past a series of farms, varying our route between hiking trails, dirt roads, and pavement.
Eventually, we reached the rifugio, where we had to negotiate for a while to figure out a vegetarian lunch for John and AR. The concept of making pasta without putting meat on it seemed foreign (pun intended) to the owners, but we convinced them it could be done and everyone was eventually able to eat. The views up there made up for the oddly difficult meal.
From there, we had a steep descent, first through the woods (where someone’s puppy followed us for about half a mile), and then through a series of hillside villages, the cutest being Comparte.
All the lovely low-alpine scenery aside, this hike will be most-remembered for this single photo.
Yes. That is Jessica on a bench built for giants.
And, yes, whoever built it knows it’s ridiculous. There’s a stand a short way in front of the bench for setting up your camera for selfies. But, honestly, this photo of Jessica alone is the best. There is no way to see it and not smile. Enjoy.
So, the surroundings around Brescia: A+. Day trips to lovely places like Verona, the lakes, the Alps? Yes, please.
So, what about Brescia itself?
Brescia was lovely. There’s a very nice central city organized around a series of plazas from the (fascist, in Dani’s words) Piazza Della Vittoria (and you can see it, right?), to the much more comfortable and beautiful neighboring Piazza Della Loggia.
The streets in the center of town were quiet, and there were plenty of nice places to wander in our free time there. There’s a castle looming above town, and Roman-era ruins at the foot of the hill. Plenty of good food, and at least a couple of excellent gelato spots.
We got a better feel for the city when we spent a day there with Dani and Irene. We met them in the morning and wandered through the sprawling Saturday farmer’s market, to the fascinating Duomo Vecchio (a circular medieval church), eventually stopping at a cafe to chat more.
These two women are a total blast to hang out with. Irene understands a fair bit of English, but speaks only a little. Regardless, she communicates in gestures and by assuming we’ll follow her in Italian (which Spanish helps with, but definitely not enough!). Dani, on the other hand, is fairly fluent in English and a complete goof; she and AR bonded instantly.
That bond only grew when we visited their home later in the day and saw Dani’s incredible artwork (and met their cat). AR is also an artist (among other things), and we spent quite a while poking around Dani’s studio and enjoying her fascinatingly detailed, almost mythic works.
(Irene also had some amazing photos up, many from visiting South Asia in the 1980s, and other more recent ones, but I didn’t take a lot of photos of her photos because that just feels weird. I have to think about why…)
We went home for a little chill time in the afternoon and then rejoined them in the evening to take a walk up to the castle and go out for gelato. The castle was sprawling and fun to explore. And the views gave us a sense that there’s a lot more Brescia out there to explore. The whole crew had a fantastic night.
If you noticed, in the photos above, there also happened to be a band playing there. We had no idea they would be there, but they turned out to be a pretty good funk band from Milan, Il Mago del Gelato. I love gelato. I love funk. So, clearly, my new favorite band. They sounded a little like this…
[If the video isn’t working, click here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=falOrexJ32E. Again, trouble with the website.]
Overall, we had a fabulous day hanging out with my two favorite Italians. From Dani’s constant excitement over one thing or another to Irene constantly yelling, “Gob!” (as in Gab-ri-el, pronounced Italian-style) when she wanted to show me a particular spot or view, it was just an all around wonderful time…with one downside: Annie Rose now calls me Gob whenever possible. But, what are friends for?
So, Brescia? Would we live there? Hmmm…
It’s definitely cheaper than some of the big cities. The location is excellent in terms of getting places: not far from many big cities (Milan, Venice, Bologna), and a quick ride to the lakes or the mountains. It’s cute and pleasant. There was actually a surprising amount of diversity too, with substantial African and Asian immigrant communities. But, maybe, maybe it’s just a little too small. As a base to explore from, it seems great. As a place to spend months at a time, it might not be enough. So, we’re still debating this one. Not off the list yet…
Moving along…
The night after our big hike, the sickness hit me. So, the next day, when we took the train to Parma and stopped there to wander for about 3 hours, I spent that time lying on the ground in the middle of the plaza in front of the train station. When I woke up at one point, I found I had made a few friends — Italians who I think were homeless. We gestured at each other some, and they briefly thought I was Spanish as I attempted to talk with them a bit. They offered me a beer and a cigarette, but as I don’t like beer, don’t smoke, and I was already sick, that didn’t seem like a great idea. Mostly, I just rested. I roused myself briefly to meet up with Jess, John, and AR for a little sorbetto (I couldn’t handle creamy gelato) before we got back on the train to go the rest of the way to Bologna, our last stop.
I should note, that the best part of the day was when this train full of tiny tractors passed us at the Parma train station. It felt like a 4 year old’s fantasy.
After arriving in Bologna, the evening was much like the afternoon — I rested. The other three evidently ran across a protest against police brutality complete with tear gas and batons. This reaffirmed what many people had said: Bologna might be our favorite, if for no other reason than the university and accompanying left-leaning culture.
So, with that point in it’s favor, what else did we learn about Bologna in our time there? Well, first of all, it’s got a beautiful central city. It once sported dozens of towers, but now only has a few, the most famous being two neighboring ones with distinct leans. The buildings varied from old to new, but with little traffic in the ZTL (downtown limited traffic area), it made for some very pleasant wandering. The Neptune statue in the Piazza Maggiore was a nice spot, but the nearby Piazza Santo Stefano was far more beautiful.
One of the most pleasant parts of the city was the endless (literally dozens of miles) of porticoes. There are so many of these sidewalk coverings in the central city that they have actually been designated as a UNESCO World Heritage Site. And they didn’t just look cool, they kept us cool. The heat wave that had been smothering Europe was dying out as we got to Bologna, but the temperatures were still well into the 90s (fahrenheit), so having so much shaded walking available was a huge benefit.
Bologna’s main claim to fame is as the home of the first European university. We broke our no-historic-sites norm to check out the Archiginnasio, the original center of the University of Bologna. One of the most interesting parts was the anatomical theater, where our audio guide gave us some gruesome descriptions of the dissections performed for the education of students there. The entire building is lined with thousands of coats of arms representing the leading students over the centuries. The library of many aging volumes was also fun to poke around.
Of course, travelling with a bunch of nerdy professor types (Jessica and John), we also had to seek out the modern university. It’s basically set up in a variety of buildings sprawling over a chunk of the central city. As we wandered through the area, it turned out that it was graduation day. Students and their friends and families gathered in clumps, with the graduates making speeches while crowned with laurel wreaths.
The other major site we visited was the Basilica di San Petronio, the main church in the Piazza Maggiore. We learned from our tour guide how the pope interfered with the construction in the 16th century when it became obvious that the church could potentially be both larger and more ornate than St. Peter’s in Rome. It’s still quite large and beautiful, but it has some unfinished-feeling aspects. For instance, the uneven marble on the facade, and the basic brick above it. Inside, there are a few spots where the ceilings have the beginning of painted decorative patterns, but then they disappear. Nevertheless, it’s an enormous, cavernous structure, with great ribbed vaults sprouting from articulated columns. It was a pleasant spot to get out of the heat, and it came complete with a funky saint statue (he looks like he’s rapping, right?) and a major wardrobe upgrade for the indecent spouses John and I were accompanying.
So, Bologna was pleasant in terms of architecture, urban structure, and lefty/nerdy culture. What about the food? Also gets high marks. This is the home of tortellini and tortelloni, both of which were delicious. It’s also located just down the road from Parma, so it’s in the classic region for parmesan cheese and balsamic vinegar. We had several amazing gelatos as well. One of my favorite discoveries was spagnola, an extra creamy gelato topped with amarena cherries. So good. I also discovered a local take on the spritz featuring these same cherries. Cherries are a major plus in favor of Bologna.
Probably the most disappointing aspect of Bologna is the lack of nature. We visited a couple of parks, but they weren’t particularly spectacular (though the little cafe area in Parco della Montagna was cute).
And the surroundings of Bologna are pretty flat and hot and open. Hmmm. So, all in all, a great city, fun to wander, with great food, but a bit farther from the mountains, a bit farther from the ability to travel to the rest of Europe, lacking in greenery in the immediate area. Oh, and definitely pricey. Maybe not as bad as Verona, but worse than any of the other places we visited. So, more research and discussion to be done.
Our last day in Bologna we didn’t actually spend in Bologna. We had discovered that our plan to leave Bologna by train was going to run into a major problem…a train strike. After doing some math about other possible routes to get John and Annie Rose to the airport in Milan and Jessica and I to the start of our hike in Bormio (see next blog post!), we realized that a rental car was the way to go. So, we rented it one day early to head out of Bologna to the farmland around Modena…
Our first stop was the Aziende Agricola Moscattini, a producer of parmesan cheese. The first thing we saw was the cows–there were a ton of them packed in. I call them unhappy cows–crowded and surrounded by their own shit. I prefer the happy cows we see hiking in the Alps or wandering the hillsides in California. On the other hand, there were some pens for the calves that looked a little more roomy.
Once we got inside, we got a short, but impressive, demonstration of tortellini-making. Such tiny little quick movements!
Unfortunately, we didn’t get there early enough to go on the tour while the cheesemaking was actually happening. Instead, we saw the cleanup after the day was done. Nevertheless, the equipment and process is pretty fascinating. The temperatures and ingredients are very tightly controlled. But the most fascinating part is that the big lump of cheese that comes out of each of those vats has to be cut in half to make the proper-sized cheese wheel. Why?! Why not make smaller vats? Or larger wheels? This baffles me a bit. They cut the cheese with these huge paddles while holding the lump of wet cheese on a cloth. It feels so inexact after everything else. The mysteries of cheese-making…
From there, we had fun seeing the towering chambers where the parmesan is stored to age. Each wheel is imprinted with the date and manufacturing information. Then, it’s put on a shelf for the next few years. There it is tested regularly with a hammer to check the health of the cheese inside. It’s pretty amazing in there, getting lost in the stacks of cheese. Also, Jessica was very hungry.
Conveniently, the tour ended with a tasting of variously aged parmesans. Quite delicious. And a lot of cheese.
The original plan was to head from there into Modena, another small city (similar in size to Brescia) for lunch and a little exploration before going to a balsamic vinegar tour/tasting in the afternoon. We did manage to get to the balsamic tasting, but failed to get into Modena. That’s pretty much my fault. When we got back to the car at the end of our cheese-fest, I had some trouble with the car and getting directions. In trying to fix it, I accidentally approved a full system reboot…
In my defense, it was a Chinese car with instructions in Italian. Nevertheless, my friends were unimpressed. Luckily, it was only 45 minutes later when the reboot failed and we managed to get the car started again. Yay! The return of air-conditioning was a major improvement.
Since we didn’t have time to really explore Modena at all anymore (and we also didn’t need lunch after all our cheese), we decided instead on a quick stop in the nearest random town, Formigine. There we found a little church, a sizeable castle, a basically empty central plaza, a nice spot for some sorbet on a hot day, another customer who was excited to meet tourists from another country, a park he told us to visit (completely in Italian, but we understood just enough) in order to see a big old tree, where we also encountered some very cute wooden gnome carvings.
That’s our hour-plus in Formigine in a nutshell. A totally pleasant random stop. Makes me want to explore more small towns again soon…
Our last stop was a great one. We went to the Acetaia Malpighi. This is one of several very small, family-run makers of “Aceto Balsamico Tradizionale di Modena.” There we were guided through the process of turning grape must (and nothing else!) into traditional balsamic vinegar. Not the cheap stuff we get in the grocery store. Not even the better stuff you get in the fancy oil and vinegar shops. This is the freakin’ ancient craziness that no one really has any business making. It takes decades and it’s delicious.
Basically they mush up a bunch of grapes and stick it in a barrel. A year or so later, they pour 10% of that barrel into a slightly smaller barrel, and 10% of that into a smaller one, and so forth down the line. The barrels are made of various types of wood that impart different flavors, but most importantly, they are old as fuck. Some of the barrels have been in use for about 500 years! They’ve got some serious caked-on balsamic goo on the inside, which makes the stuff that comes out that much sweeter. The barrels are stored in the attic where it’s hot and humid and smells like a sugary vinegar steam bath.
We ended up with a bottle of the good stuff–the 24+ year old variety. It’s think and chocolatey and goes great on fruit and vanilla ice cream (among other things).
The next day we got up early to drive John and AR to the airport and ourselves up to the Alps (more on that in the next post), and so two fine weeks of wandering with two great friends came to an end. Many good meals were enjoyed. Many fine cappuccinos were consumed. And so, so, so much gelato. While we didn’t settle on the place, we did start to figure out some of the factors that might help us get there. But, mostly, we just enjoyed being outside the U.S. and being footloose and fancy free. Looking forward to many more years with these very wonderfully silly people.