What a memorable day –especially the evening. All thanks to a fortuitous meeting with Ida in Bagni!

The day was another fairly lazy one – after a late evening in Pisa on Tuesday we were all slow to rise, and by the time everyone was up, fed, showered and dressed it was almost 1 pm. It was an overcast morning, with a little drizzle, but little reduction in temperature. There was desultory discussion of an outing, but little forward movement. K & J made a run to the Wednesday Market for fresh vegetables and fruit and to the supermarket to replenish the milk and yoghurt supply, and brought back the fixings for a lovely insalata mista; a little later we sat down to a most satisfying Italian lunch – salumi, olives, bread, parmesan cheese with chestnut honey, pickled onions (agridolce and marinated in red wine vinegar), a bottle of very drinkable 1 euro vino rosso, followed by fresh peaches and watermelon.

We finally decided it would be a good day for a quick ride to nearby Barga – but by that time la Principessa was napping, so we spent siesta time playing Jenga and SET, and just being on vacation.

Barga is set high in the foothills, up a winding road through gorgeous green countryside. It is amazing how many small villages are tucked into the valleys of the Garfagnana. Barga sits atop one of the hills, with some of its 12th century defensive walls still in place. It is more like the hill towns further south – unlike Bagni, which stretches along the Lima river with its business area largely level, Barga’s streets twist and turn, with steep stairways connecting streets in the upper and lower part of the town.

With our unerring ability to visit on early closing day we found the tourist office and most shops closed, but enjoyed strolling through its compact center admiring the flowers blooming profusely on balconies, in gardens, and in pots. There were hydrangeas, roses, and geraniums in a spectrum of reds and pinks. The hills surrounding the town are covered in trees, a lush landscape.

At the very top of the town was the duomo – up a steep flight of stairs. La Nonna (that would be me) decided sitting on a bench in a small, quiet piazza in the shade would suit me better than climbing to the top, so I enjoyed a few minutes watching three little boys play soccer and a Nonno with his not yet two year old granddaughter who was intent on climbing everything in sight, and listening to the soprano voice emanating from a house somewhere in the area. We had noticed flyers for an opera recital on Friday night, featuring members of the Cardiff Opera Company from Wales – and one of the members of the company was clearly rehearsing.

Once again, our group dispersed to the four winds, and needed to be found and reminded we needed to return to freshen up for our special dinner treat – after a stop at the local gelateria for yet another wonderful scoop of refreshing limone and pesche for me – and chocolate for the kids. La Prinipessa, at almost five, announced she had a new motto – “another day, another Gelato” – smart kid!

We knew we had to make yet another stop at Conad for TP and more limonata, so four of us took off, leaving all three grandkids with D & E eating gelato, and made our way down the mountain, la nonna in the back seat as we whipped around the curves, future son in law Mario Andretti at the wheel! We made our grocery stop, then proceeded through town to the Casa Rossa, only to arrive and realize that D&E, who were somewhere behind us, had the key! And we had only about 15 minutes to change and get on our way to Vico Pancellorum for what turned out to be THE highlight of the trip to date!

The laggards arrived after only a couple of minutes, and everyone was sent to get ready – and surprisingly, in under 15 minutes everyone had morphed from shorts and t shirt clad tourists to slacks and skirt wearing sophisticates (well, comparatively) ready for a night in the village.
A short 20 minutes later we met Bill & Ida outside the church in the village which is so much a part of her life and upbringing, and which she was generous enough to share with us.

We went first to see her summer house – a classical three story villa which has been in her family for many years. It is beautifully decorated, and a true home. Family pictures hang in the hall and the kitchen, firmly establishing a sense of place and tradition – she is so lucky to have such wonderful records of her family and its history. She pointed out the nearby homes owned by cousins, and second cousins – we were surrounded! After a tour of the house, and a chance to see the fantastic view of the green hills visible from the top floor bedroom, we sat on the front steps for a group picture (on Ida's camera) before heading off up the hill to her cousin’s restaurant.

What a special experience we shared! We were introduced to cousins who owned and ran the restaurant, then seated and asked if we would like to see menus, or if we would like them just to choose for us and serve us what they thought we would enjoy! Guess what we decided….yep, and were we in for a treat.

We began with antipasti – an amazing liver pate with crostini; a variety of wonderful olives, thinly sliced roast pork with a special secret sauce, and a plate of fantastic cheeses. Oh – and a choice of frissante white or red wines, crunchy breadsticks, and crusty fresh bread. I was surprised and tickled to see la Principessa and her picky eater 13 year old cousin enjoying the pate and toast!

Antipasti were followed by huge platters of a superb risotto con zucchini – creamy, perfectly cooked, and oh so good! Ida reminded us to go slowly, there would be more – and even as we were scraping the bottom of the risotto platter, the homemade ravioli with butter and sage arrived – light and luscious pillows of goodness. We tried to eat slowly, enjoying and savoring each bite. I glanced down the table to where the 13 and 17 year olds were sitting – and saw them both taking seconds! Italian food has triumphed over food pickiness! Even the “pizza please, just cheese” principessa was enjoying her ravioli.

Then, just when we thought it couldn’t get any better, out came Luisa again with two heaping platters of the most incredible homemade papardelle I have ever enjoyed, each strand enveloped in a coating of zingara sauce! This is a speciality of the house, and Ida’s favorite. It was fantastic, and I definitely will be getting the recipe from her for this one!

Luisa and Giordana then came out to see what we would like as our secondi! It was by this time about 10:30 pm, and we had been eating for at least an hour and a half. I was amused when Luisa said she thought we might not want secondi, since we weren’t Italian. But we ARE lovers of quality food – so we decided to get single servings of a few of their offerings --- we got a little coniglio with olives, two servings of the pork ribs with honey and pine nuts (the boys devoured these before any of the grown ups could get a taste), and their signature cingiale, which, again, was the best I have ever tasted (and had been hunted by yet another of Ida’s cousins)! We all tasted, oohed and aahed, and only wished we could eat more!

Ida had asked Luisa (her cousin, the pastry chef) if she would fix a special treat for our dolce – so at the point when we could easily have walked out the door and gone hone totally sated and happy, Luisa arrived with a dish the size of an Olympic swimming pool filled with a pineapple tiramisu! Since D & E had decided that they needed to get la Principessa home and into bed (it was after 11 pm when they left), and taken the 13 year old with them, that left 8 of us to try to put a dent in the perfect dessert – it was light, not too sweet, and indescribably delicious. We managed (with 17 year old having two servings) to get through almost half of it. There was coffee for those who wanted it, and the tiramisu disappeared, only to reappear in a to go container – bigger than an 8” baking dish!

I have spent a great deal of time here rhapsodizing about the food – but what I haven’t mentioned is how this was another case of STers meeting for the first time and finding they were already good friends. We visited for hours with Ida and Bill as if we had known them for years, and enjoyed the interplay as cousins and second cousins wandered in to say hello. It was definitely a special evening, and I cannot thank Ida enough for making it possible.

On Monday we stayed close to home most of the day; a trip to the supermarket and a stop at the local Internet Point, housed in a fantastic bulding that was once the first casino in Europe were on the agenda for a few of us, while the others enjoyed the pool.

But our son’s phone was still not operational, and daughter needed to purchase a SIM card, so we decided after nap time to take a ride into Lucca, visit a TIM phone store, and share one of our favorite Italian towns with the kids.

We were lucky enough to see a TIM store along the street as we drove into town, and then to find parking for both of our cars within a few blocks of the shop! We found that although David had sent registration form and passport copies to Telestial and had called them to confirm all was in order, they had not completed the registration process, so within a few minutes that was taken care of, daughter got a card for her phone and we were good to go. I was a little disturbed to find, however, that though Telestial advertised that the SIM cards allowed free calling between TIM cell phones, that was NOT a feature of the SIM cards we have – not the first time I have found Telestial’s information to be less than accurate

With phones set up, and a quick stop at a Bancomat refreshing the wallets, we were off to see a little of Lucca. We were lucky enough to be there during the passegiata, so the streets were full of local citizens exchanging greetings and chatting. We window shopped, admired the architecture of many of the lovely buildings, visited the ampitheatro where la Principessa indulged In the international child’s pastime of chasing pigeons; listened to part of a vocal recital from outside one of the churches, then decided it was time to find a place to eat.

I had hoped we could follow the footsteps of many who have gone before us and eat at one of the great restaurants in town, but the realities of travel with a four year old made it clear that something less formal and quicker would be better for all concerned, so we said thank you to Jerry for having talked about K2 Pizzeria, sat at a table outside, and enjoyed a very tasty meal. 17 year old surprised us all by ordering and devouring a pizza del mare, replete with clams and mussels in the shell along with other wonderful looking seafood. He loved it. 13 year old passed on pizza (kids are full of surprises) and opted for fritto misti, loving the calamari and even eating some of the fried zucchini, despite an avowed hatred for the vegetable. La Principessa ordered for herself – “ pizza con quatri formaggi, per piacere” – she much prefers that to a simple Margherita pizza.

It began to get dark as we finished dinner, and we walked back along the walls as night fell.

A pattern is evolving -- relaxed mornings at the villa, time in the pool for the younger members of the family, lunch at home, nap time for La Principessa (almost 5 granddaughter), card games or movies on the portable DVDs for the boys, and then the urge to get out and do something.

On Saturday we heard there would be a Medieval Festival in the Park on Sunday, with sword fight demonstrations, artisans and more. And on Sunday, beginning at about 10 am we could hear the opening salvos from our terrace a mile or so away – cannons and rifles were being demonstrated, and the noise echoed off the steep hills on either side of the valley. But heat and inertia kept us from voyaging into town until about 3 pm, when we decided to see If anything was still going on. And it was.

It was a small event, but interesting for adults and kids alike. There were probably 50 participants in medieval garb (and I didn’t envy them in the heat); a gentleman from nearby Monte Carlo was demonstrating how to grind wheat, using an old stone grinder that he invited others to try. An artisan with a lathe operated with a foot pedal was making lovely pieces from olive wood (including the beautifully crafted sword my 13 year old grandson decided he couldn’t live without); and a group of young men were offering samples of spiced wine (very good, but potent), and had a large display of medieval weaponry, which they demonstrated and described in very creditable English. My son has always been fascinated with medieval weaponry, and was in his element, especially when they put a full helmet on him and handed him a broadsword. La Principessa then decided she, too, wanted to be a warrior, and with helmet and dagger, assumed a fearsome persona that had the young men grinning broadly.

While we were enjoying all of this, we would periodically look over to the area where the guns were being demonstrated – and as the cannons and shotguns were loaded with powder we would periodically cover our ears, because volleys of shots were frequent and loud!

As the afternoon wound down, all of the participants gathered together and marched off to the central piazza for a final parade, with drums drumming, flags waving and being tossed by young marchers, the contadine with their wooden pitchforks and brooms, bows and arrows defining their roles.

Ringing the park where the festival was taking place were tables offering all sorts of local products – and we were delighted to be able to buy fresh baked bread, two kinds of honey, and eggs from a local farm, sold by the egg – we bought all the 11 the farmer had!

It was fun to get a glimpse into the past.

We had a lovely lazy breakfast Saturday morning at the B&B, sitting in the peregola in our host’s lovely garden – a sumptuous spread that included croissants, bread, butter, several kinds of jelly, ham, cheese, lattes and juice. Then it was time to re pack the cars and head into the centro where the weekly market was taking place. We needed to stock up on basics for the rental house – and since we couldn’t get access until early afternoon, the market was a good way to spend some time (although La Principessa, the almost 5 year old nipote preferred playing in the local park). When Bill and I arrived at the market we went looking for our offspring, and found la figlia and fiancé talking with someone. They waved us over, and said their companion lived in a nearby village, and had stopped them to ask if they were Americans.

“This is Ida”, said la figlia – at which point I did a double take, remembering that Vico Girl spent summers somewhere near Lucca.

“Are you Palma’s Ida?” I asked. Her mouth fell open, and she said yes, she was – and asked if I was part of Slow Travel. It doesn’t matter where you go – Slow Travel has a presence there!

Ida said she was staying at her home in Vico Pancellorum, and we mentioned that the owner of our B&B had recommended a restaurant there – which, as it turns out, is owned and operated by one of Ida’s cousins! She encouraged us to come up for dinner one night during the week, and we agreed we would do so. We talked a while longer, then realized we needed to get to the market before it closed, and parted with a promise to get together later in the week.

It was fun introducing our kids to a typical mercato in Italy. And even more wonderful was shopping and purchasing large quantities of fantastic produce. We bought tiny green beans, little pale green zucchini with the flowers still attached, large deep red tomatoes, and fresh basil, onions, garlic, potatoes, huge dark purple figs, raspberries, strawberries, early peaches, and what I am sure was the world’s largest watermelon! And as the sales woman was totaling our bill, she added a few stalks of celery, a handful of parsley, and a couple of carrots – the foundation of a good sugo! We also bought two lovely rotisserie chickens, cheese and prosciutto, and a fresh loaf of whole wheat bread. We were ready for dinner and Sunday breakfast!

Refreshed by a stop at the local bar for cappucinos (adults) and gelato (kids), we were ready to move into our home for a week – the lovely Casa Rossa di Campigli, a 4 bedoom villa with pool that I had found on the internet. The listing did mention that the road approaching the house was narrow; this proved to be an understatement. And as we tried to find the house (Harriet proving to be totally useless at finding the location on its tiny country lane), we found that there was parking for only one car – with additional parking about ¼ mile down the road, with a gravel path up to the road to the house… so we parked two of the cars in the “auxiliary” lot, loaded ALL the luggage into the third, and we trudged up the path to the house. Yes – moving days are about as much fun as travel days!

Once we got there, however, we were delighted. The house was spacious, immaculately clean. Bill and I had the ground floor bedroom, which actually was a one bedroom apartment with an efficiency kitchen and a private doorway out to a side patio. On the first floor there was a large, well appointed kitchen, a dining room with a long country table that would seat all of us easily, and a large living room with TV, stereo, and shelves of books and games. On the second floor were three more bedrooms, one of which had stairs to a loft with an additional bed and half bath. Most important to the younger set, there was a large swimming pool just outside the door! We were on the edge of the town, surrounded by trees, close enough to the river to hear it, though we could not see it. Bagni is set in a narrow valley nestled between wooded hills, and we were surrounded by green!

The rest of the day was spent settling in, meeting our landlady and her 6 year old son, and enjoying being at home.

After stopping at the farm shop to purchase two kilo sized wedges of parmesan and a jar of mostarda, Bill and I were on our way from Parma to Florence, where we were to meet the first half of the family at the airport in Florence. It was a pleasant ride even on the autostrada, and we arrived half an hour before their flight was due to arrive. Bonus – when we got parked and into the arrivals area we found their flight had already landed, so we had very little time to wait before they came through the door from customs.

The master plan – another one of those Judy decisions that wasn’t nearly as brilliant as it seemed in California – was that Grandad would take most of their luggage and the grandsons to Prato, while our daughter and her fiancé joined me on the local bus from the airport to Prato. According to the online Prato bus schedule, the bus from Florence to Prato stopped frequently at the airport. NOT! We asked half a dozen people and they were unanimous in their response – to get the bus to Prato, you need to take the airport bus to Florence to the train station, and catch it there. It was hot, the new travelers were tired, and expedience won out over economy, so we piled into a taxi, and only 33 euros later arrived in Prato, after a delightful conversation with our woman driver.

Why Prato? Good question. It made sense at home – the cost of renting a car away from the airport was noticeably cheaper than renting from the airport, and Prato was the first town in the westerly direction. Makes sense, right? Well – factoring in the taxi fare and the need to kill time until the mid day closure at the car rental location ended at 3 pm, the savings were not worth the aggravation. However, we had a pleasant lunch in Prato, sat in the park for a while, and then daughter and fiancé went off to get their car.

With the help of Harriet the GPS, we easily found our way out of Prato and to Bagni di Lucca – but when it came to finding the B&B where we would be staying, it was another matter. The B&B was on a tiny little side street too narrow to drive down, where the house numbers were apparently assigned based on random number theory, and on first try we could not find the house number at all! I called our landlord in frustration – he apologized and explained the house was tucked in at the end of a tiny walkway, between two houses with street numbers totally out of sequence with that of the B&B.

By the time we schlepped all the luggage down the hill and into the house it was almost 5 pm, and I expected my son and his family to arrive at any moment: they had flown to Pisa from Amsterdam, and were picking up their car there.

The B&B had a lovely garden and a pool, so the boys quickly donned their suits and cooled off, while the rest of us sat under the pergola enjoying the warm afternoon breeze, and chatting with our host when he arrived home around 6 pm. We kept trying to reach our son on his cell phone, but got a repeated message that the number was not active…very frustrating. After they got out of the pool the boys decided to walk down to the center of town to see if by chance figlio and family were wandering around there – but saw no sign of them.

Finally, about 7:30 pm we decided we had to take the new arrivals to dinner, as they were looking decidedly bleary eyed. Just as we arrived at the top of the street where we had parked our cars, a very hot, frustrated and cranky son drove up; his phone was not working (despite the fact that he had sent all the required forms and passport copies to Telestial and had been told the phone HAD been activated), he had not been able to get a GPS when he picked up the car, he got lost driving through Lucca, and had reached the end of his rope, only to be frustrated by not being able to find the B&B. We convinced him he should just park his car and walk with the boys down the quarter mile to the centro to Del Sonno, a simple pizzeria that had been recommended both by our B&B host and by the owners of the Villa we had rented. They happily accommodated our group of nine, and we had a simple supper of food we knew the kids would enjoy.

Finally, our family was together.

For some reason, when we began using our GPS in Italy, we gave it a name – and Harriet became part of our family group. She fit in well, as she was great at giving orders. But on Thursday afternoon, we tested her patience and her mettle, as we decided to explore the area around Parma and visit one or two of the castles in the area.

We started out for Torrechiara castle, an easy ride through rolling fields of wheat. But then we reached an area of roadway that was obviously very new – a tangentiale that ringed a town. It was clearly not on Harriet’s map – in fact, on the screen there was a large blank spot…and in a somewhat frantic tone, Haarriet began to urge us to “at the first possibility, MAKE A U TURN”. We continued along the tangentiale, and Harriet continued to exhort us to “ MAKE A U TURN”. Clearly she felt we were in danger of disappearing into some kind of parmesan black hole. Finally, we reached a point where the new road joined with an older one, and Harriet took a deep breath, advised us she was “recomputing”, and we continued on our way.

What Harriet didn’t tell us was that although the ride was lovely, and the castle hovering over the town was impressive, it was also closed, due to damage from an earthquake that hit the area in December 2008. We did get to see some lovely countryside, though – and walked through the quiet and tiny village that was part of the castle grounds.

On our way back we stopped at a second castle in Sala Baganza, which we were able to visit. There, there were sections that were not accessible, where the earthquake had caused fresco covered walls and ceilings to crack, and where we saw “bandaids” keeping the plaster in place.

We took a route back to Vicofertile that took us through a lush and green regional park, rolling hills and verdant woodlands. It was lovely.

It would have been nice to have a day or two longer to explore further – we had considered going to Cremona one day to see the musical instrument museum, and to visit Ferrara, but that, too, will have to wait for the next trip.

This morning we had arranged with Lola to learn how parmigiano reggiano was made, so after a breakfast of caffe latte (2 each), toast with homemade butter and homemade fruit jams, and a slice of home baked crostata di frutta di bosco we climbed into Lola’s little yellow Fiat in time to reach the manufacturing plant as they began the cheese production.

With apologies to those who may find the next few paragraphs boring, I found the process fascinating. The farm at Agriturismo Leone produces the hay and corn that feeds their 200 cows, but they contract with a local manufacturer who produces the cheese for them and one other farmer. They get an average of 2800 liters of milk per day, in two milkings. The evening milk is delivered and pumped into stainless steel trays where it sits overnight before the cream is skimmed off the top to be used for butter and for pig food for the pigs that become prosciutto di parma. The morning milk is then added, and the mixture goes into deep copper vats, heated and left until the curds and whey separate.

Shortly after we arrived the three cheesemakers began the labor intensive process of gathering the curd into a cheesecloth. Each vat provides enough curd for two 40 kilo wheels of cheese, so the curds are heavy, as they are full of water at this point.

Each round gathered is cut into two pieces, which are then transferred to molds where they are weighted and left to drain for 8 hrs. A band is added that pierces the outer edge with a code to indicate the producer and the month/year, and the rounds continue to drain for three days, after which they are put into water troughs with pure sea salt.

They are left there for 23 or 24 days, rotated daily to ensure they age properly. Then they are transferred to racks and put in a “hot room” to dry for one day before being moved to the aging room, where the racks stretch to the ceiling. The wheels must age for a minimum of one year before they can be stamped as “parmigiano reggiano” and sold.

There is a rigid standard, and the association that oversees the process regularly tests the milk at the farm for its purity, and the aging wheels. Most of the cheese we saw would be sold after it had aged one year, but a percentage is aged for 2 years or more, and a small amount for three years. Lola explained that at three years the flavor is very intense, and used primarily for grating to use over pasta.

After our visit to the factory, we returned to the farm, where we toured the cow barns (we also found a group of about 15 summer day camp children having a day on the farm, where they visited the cows, were taken out to where the corn and hay were grown, as well as the tomatoes and onions the farm grows for sale). I commented that there was a strong movement in the US NOT to confine the cows to barns. Lola explained that cows producing the milk for parmesan cheese HAD to be confined, as they had to be fed only hay and a grain mixture of corn, rice and one other grain whose name escapes me; it the cows were let out of the barn, their milk would include other grasses, and not be useable for parmesan. We were surprised by the technically sophisticated methods being used – each cow wore a transmitter that measured and controlled how much feed it had eaten (the cows pushed on a door to release a pre measured quantity of grain, and if a cow had eaten its limit, the door would not open), how much they weighed, etc.

We were then invited into the breakfast room, where a huge wedge of two year old parmesan awaited us, with a basket of a special bread, homemade mostarda and marmellata, and two kinds of balsamico. A bottle of a friend’s home brewed malvasia was then opened, and we ate our fill and more of the delicious combination of parmesan , bread and wine. It was a very special morning.

Spoiled by free wi-fi in our Bologna hotel, I am finding myself with withdrawal symptoms here in Parma. At breakfast we asked about internet points, and were directed to a location on the outskirts of Parma where parking was nearby. So after a leisurely breakfast and a chat with our hostess, we set out to return to Parma for the day.

Of course nothing is as easy as planned –the directions we were given to the small under-used parking lot near the internet spot seemed to take us directly into a ZTL zone,(restricted access) which we knew could lead to unbudgeted expense, so we detoured and eventually were lucky enough to find a spot not TOO far from our destination. It was an interesting neighborhood across the river from the centro, with halal kebab shops next to the pizzerias, the Sierra Leone social organization’s headquarters, and a diverse population.

The primary reason for checking internet was to find out the status of the debit card – and I was pleased to find an email confirming the freeze had been removed from my record. So while I read through my emails, Bill took my ATM card to a nearby bancomat where, finally, it worked!

We stopped at a lovely little bar/café for a quick dose of caffeine, and while we were drinking our cappuccinos, watched the proprietor making a large quantity of lovely looking piadine (using the typical ER flat bread), and Panini. We decided as it was almost lunch time we would buy a couple and stop at the Ducal Park for an al fresco lunch. We added some wonderful fruit at a local shop – cherries and apricots – and enjoyed a pleasant lunch in the shade of the park.

Then it was off to the Camera di San Paolo, where we experienced “Italian time”. We got there at 1:20, knowing it closed at 2 pm. We went to the ticket office, where we were told we only had 20 minutes to view the frescoes; we had to leave the building by 1:45, so they had time to close up BY 2 pm. In reality, we had plenty of time to enjoy the frescoes, as the space is fairly small. The Correggio ceiling was delightful, with some of the most mature looking putti I have ever seen – and wonderful decorative effects in the borders and decorations.

Also on our list of things to see was the Teatro Farnese – but oops! Turns out it, too, closes at 2 pm. So that stays on our list for next time.

We then spent some time doing what we do best – wandering the back streets, with no specific goal in mind except to see if the weekly market was still happening; as we thought, it had closed down.
We returned to our favorite café next, enjoying the theater of the street as we rested our feet and had a cold drink – the weather has been very warm ever since our arrival, and the mid afternoon heat is enervating!

We then continued on to the Chiesa di San Giovanni Evangalista to see more Correggio frescoes. I felt like I had walked into an Italian movie! In one of the side chapels there was a group of vecchie donne, apparently the local prayer group reciting innumerable Hail Marys; a young priest who alternated sitting in a rear pew in contemplation with bustling about moving empty floral vases from one place to another, then making a tour of the church checking everything out, then returning to his contemplative post, all while an earnest young man was lecturing a group of several wheelchair bound visitors and their attendants in Italian about the frescoes (unfortunately, softly enough that we couldn’t hear what he was saying over the voices of the praying women). Then as we were getting ready to leave, we heard an unhappy child being carried in – her behavior indicated she was autistic, and the women from the prayer group were more than anxious to fuss over her…while the young priest watched the door, making sure all of the wheel chair group left without harm. Strange – and somewhat surreal.

Once out the door, it was back to reality—there was a very busy and popular gelateria right across the street, where packs of teens and pre-teens came and went, and where several mothers with pre-schoolers sat on doorsteps enjoying cones and cups. We refueled before returning to our car and retreating to our country farmhouse.

Dinner was at the local trattoria – about half a mile from the Agriturismo down a narrow country road in the middle of nowhere. Had we not been told about it we would have driven right by, as it had no sign on the road, and looked like an anonymous building – except for the shaded terrace tucked to one side, where tables were elegantly set with gold and white linen tablecloths, and where, by the time we left, cars were parked on both sides of the road for a quarter of a mile!

There were two parties of 8 – 10 and another of 6, and it was clearly a local favorite, as most of the customers stopped to chat as they arrived.

At the recommendation of our hostess we ordered one of the trattoria’s specialties – a primo called a savarine di riso, which had to be ordered by a minimum of two people. We had no idea what to expect , but it was one of the most amazing treats of our trip. It was a perfectly flavored mushroom risotto, creamy and redolent of the special perfume of porcini. But the risotto was encased in a bowl shaped packet of rosy prosciutto, so as we cut into the meat, we found the risotto inside. Needless to say there was not a bite left on either of our plates! We wished we had had the sense NOT to order a second course - especially when our two first choices proved to be off the menu that evening. One of these days we will do as the Italians do, and order one course at a time! Our roast duck (Bill) and roast chicken (me) were tasty, but could not live up to the first course, and neither of us was really hungry enough to do them justice.

We sat enjoying the evening breeze as we finished our wine and acqua con gaz, and staggered home wondering again at those who were arriving at 9:45 just as we were finishing our meal.

It was time to move on to Parma. After an early breakfast, final packing, and posting one final blog post while we still had wi-fi access, it was time to check out and take a cab to the car rental office where we had arranged to get our car. Bill had very efficiently chosen a pickup point that was near the edge of town, so it was a straight shot on to the autostrade. Our newly purchased GPS worked like a charm, and it was an easy ride to Parma – or rather, to the agriturismo in Vicofertile, two km outside of town, where we had a three night reservation.We had decided on Agriturismo Leone based on Slow Travel reviews – thinking it might be nice to be out in the country. It is a working dairy, surrounded by fields of corn and other crops, but it is only a short drive into Parma. We were greeted warmly by Lola, and shown to our room in the farmhouse. It is simple, but spacious, and except for the farm vehicle traffic on the road outside our window, very quiet.

Lola gave us directions to the parking lots nearest the center in Parma, and made some suggestions of things we might want to see, as well as a couple of restaurants where we might want to eat, as the local trattoria in Vicofertile is closed on Tuesdays. After finding the underground parking lot where we could leave the car for more than two hours, we walked into the centro, with the intention of first visiting the Camera di San Paolo, known for its decorated rooms – one with ceiling painted by Corregio. We arrived at 2:20, only to find it closes at 2 pm! But right next door was an intriguing little museum – a collection of marionettes and puppets. Apparently puppetry is an art form which flourished in the Parma area, and this collection was delightful. There were several rooms full of puppets and marionettes through the ages – all the classic commedia dell’ arte figures, knights, nobles, peasants, circus figures, you name it, it was there. Signage was not extensive, but it was fun just looking at the handiwork in both the characters and their costumes. There were also videos showing of interviews with puppeteers and puppet makers at work. It was not anything that was on our list of must sees, but it was great fun.

Our next stop was the Duomo and its adjacent Baptistry, both of which are magnificent, with stunning frescoes. The Bapistry, especially, thrilled me with its soaring arches and frescoed wall panels. We spent a long time sitting inside, admiring the wonderful art.

Walking back from the Duomo I saw a Bialetti shop, and decided it was time to replace the Mukka express I had purchased in Florence in 2005. It has served me well, but was getting a little temperamental, and decidedly shabby looking. So I decided a new machine would be a great souvenir – especially since the price is about half of that charged by Williams Sonoma or Sur La Table – and the sales person was delightful to talk to. She was appalled when I told her how much the machine cost in the US, and what the replacement parts cost, too – at which point she suggested I get an extra basket/valve while I was there.

It was time to sit down out of the sun, so we found a shady table at a café along the Via Cavour, where we spent the next hour enjoying the passagiata – pre teen girls full of drama and high drama; groups of teen aged boys totally self absorbed; a steady stream of residents on bikes – mothers with babies in “bike seats”, seniors with shopping baskets filled; elegant looking women in heels and short dresses, managing to look elegant even while pedaling down the cobbled streets. It was a steady parade of humanity. There was a large gathering of teeny boppers, who were hysterically funny, and kept coming and going in various sub-groups. But perhaps the most interesting was a beautifully made up woman in a stylish spring dress and high heeled sandals. She pulled up on her bike to talk to a trio of equally elegant women having a café next to us – and decided to join them after locking her bike. She was joined a few minutes later by two giggly sisters about 8 and 10, who were seemingly endangering everyone on the street by riding double and weaving in and out of traffic. They were clearly having a wonderful time, and Mama was very sanguine about their antics – her only warning was to watch their feet, and to stay where she could see them. They were having such a great time together – first the older one would pedal with the smaller one riding behind – then the younger one would pedal (clearly she had strong legs), with older sister sitting behind and helping guide the bike by hanging on to the handle bars. I anticipated a tumble and tears at any moment, but clearly this was routine for them, and there were no casualties. Clearly, too, there is general acceptance that children will be children – no one who had to swerve around them or jump out of the way seemed the least bit disconcerted by them.

It was then that strange time in a traveler’s day when it was too late to sit at the café, but too early to find a restaurant. So – we wandered, in search of a stationery store where we could get a mailing tube for the placemats from Tamburini, which were so delightful we asked if we could buy a couple, and were given half a dozen. No stationery store was to be found, but I did find an internet point, and decided to check to see if my credit union had yet responded to my scathing email about my non-working debit card.

There was still no reply – so I sent an angry follow up note. I also tried to call. HAH! I did find out that 800 numbers are NOT free when calling from out of the country; and the customer service number was, as I feared, one of those damned automated phone systems where your call goes into the queue from hell. Not wanting to wait the anticipated 3 minutes to reach an agent, I hung up in frustration, and instead, called my daughter in Illinois. She took all the pertinent information, and promised she would call and demand action.

Feeling much better, we went in search of the Trattoria Corriente, which had been recommended by our hostess as offering local specialties at reasonable prices. We arrived 15 minutes before they start dinner service, but we were invited to come in and sit and wait, which we were glad to do. Here we discovered an amazing local speciality – which we would never have ordered had we not seen it served to another party. Listed among the appetizers was something called torta fritti (fried tart); it turns out that it is a fantastic pillow of fried bread – puffy, served hot, and intended to accompany a plate of local salumi. We had it without the salumi – one order (4 euros) had about six squares of this luscious bread. We shared another local special – paglia e fieno with prosciutto and rucola – homemade white and green tagliatelle with a rich sauce of finely chopped meat, cheese and cream, with lightly braised rucola. We had made the mistake of ordering secondi (will we never learn?), Bill got a stuffed pork steak, I got stinko di maiale – a pork shank braised to tenderness, served with oven roasted potatoes. We did not do justice to these great dishes, because between the large serving of pasta and the yummy bread, we had little room for the main course.

Parma has a very pleasant and compact centro, and is a very easy town to visit. We enjoyed our afternoon there

This morning we found the Mercato delle Erbe – amazing how a few days in a new city can simplify finding one’s way around! In one way it was just another market complex; but in another, it was interesting to look at the butcher shops and be able to “see” how the various cuts of meat were labeled. It also made me wish we had a kitchen – so many beautiful fruits to cut up into a fruit salad, and so many vegetables ready to be chopped, sautéed, or roasted. As at many markets, it was clear which merchants had what the locals felt were the “best” items – large . crowds lined up at two or three of the vendors, while others languished for lack of patronage

One vignette that made an impression – as we passed one stand, I saw the vendor remove one stalk from a head of celery and add it to the bag of an elderly customer – Bill and I wonder if you can buy as little as a single stalk of celery, or if this was a small bonus for a regular patron
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As we exited the Mercato we found a wonderful bakery/café with wonderful looking pastries in the window – and decided a second caffe would taste just wonderful. Which it did – along with the pastry cream filled croissant I had to order to go with it, and Bill’s marmelata filled one!
We strolled along via Ugo Bassi heading back towards the Piazza del Popolo, enjoying the window shopping along the way. I love the window displays – they are often works of art; even the mannequins are different - the female models elegantly made up, the male models with wonderful muscle definition! (ok – I may be old, but I ain’t dead!).

Bill had mentioned earlier that he realized he had forgotten to pack his bathing suit, and there were many displayed in shop windows, but I couldn’t talk him into looking for one when he saw prices ranging from $3o – $60 and up (more for a Dolce and Gabbana model). But we will have a pool in Bagni di Lucca and will probably go to the beach with the kids at some point so when we passed a UPIM (Italian chain department store) I suggested he see what they might have – and when he found they were having a sale and he could get a respectable suit for only 10 euros, he was pleased. While he was trying on suits I browsed the menswear department and was impressed by the style, variety and reasonable prices. Here, as in the window displays everywhere, the prevalence of purple was notable – it is definitely the color of the season.

We wanted to make a visit to the shrine of Tamburini, a deli mentioned in every guidebook as having the most amazing variety of salumi in Bologna, which we had somehow missed on our first visit to the area. The aroma as we walked into the shop was amazing – as was the variety of products offered. We admired it all, and then moved on – but not far, for right next to the deli is a small wine bar owned by the same folks, offering a menu of meat and cheese plates that we could not resist. There was sidewalk seating with wine barrels serving as tables, where we sat and watched the world go by as we enjoyed a sumptuous lunchtime “snack” of prosciutto, salame, mortadella, coppa, pecorino, squaquerone, piadine, pane and more! A veritable feast of local products. It is a good thing that we have been walking miles every day – the exercise helps offset the indulgence.

While we were eating we were reminded that Bologna, like the rest of the world, has its share of disenfranchised. We had been approached a few times during our stay by someone looking for a few soldi; while we were enjoying our lunch, a sad looking individual wandered by asking at each table for a handout – he hadn’t yet reached us when the waiter came out and in no uncertain terms ordered him away – then came towards us shaking his head and mentioning that the person in question had been known to steal food off the tables. Sad!

We detoured after lunch to the nearby Biblioteca Communale di Archiginnasio, where in the courtyard there was an interesting exhibit of local schools’ “clean up the city” projects. My feet were complaining, so I didn’t join Bill, who went into the library and saw the original medical school surgery to be found there.

From the library we wandered without a specific objective in mind, enjoying window shopping and people watching. A rather random path found us somehow back at the Due Torri, just in time for a mid afternoon gelato break. From there we again followed a suggestion from Matt’s Bologna article, and detoured through the former ghetto area – where the noise and hustle and bustle of the town is muted, somehow. We saw several craftsmen’s shops, and a wonderful men’s shoe store where all the shoes are made to order. The workmanship was amazing, and there was a wide range of styles on display.

Back at the hotel there was time for some journaling, a brief rest, a shower, and then we were off to meet Sharon, Ed abd Sandra for a mini GTG. We had arranged to meet for dinner at Teresina, a restaurant praised by other Slow Travelers. It was lovely to see Sharon again, to meet Ed, and to meet Sandra.

We were seated at an outside table, and frustrated our waiter by spending so much time getting acquainted we didn’t have time to choose our meal. Finally, however, we decided to concentrate on the menu and were able to placate our hovering waiter. Prompted by Sharon’s reminder that it was a speciality of Bologna, four of us ordered the tortellini in brood as our primi – Bill ordered an eggplant parmesan which he reported was very tasty (and indeed, it disappeared very quickly, before I could snag a taste). I didn’t take note of everyone’s choices for secondi – I know Bill had a lovely looking branzano (fish) with a shell of thin slices of potato; I had a lovely frito misti of calamari, prawns and vegetables that was absolutely delicious and non greasy; Sandra had a pasta dish, but I do not remember what Sharon and Ed had. We were all busy sharing our trip experiences and getting to know one another a little – as usual, there was no lack of interesting conversation. We gathered when the restaurant opened at 7:30, and it was after 11 when we finally said our good byes.

For Bill and me it was back to the hotel to pack and get organized for our morning departure

We woke late Sunday morning, and enjoyed a leisurely breakfast at the hotel. Then it was off to San Luca. No, we weren’t going to walk the 4 km of porticoes up to the Sanctuary. We had stopped at an information desk for the bus lines on Saturday, and found that while the city bus 20 goes only to the start of the porticoes leading up to San Luca, there was a private shuttle system to take visitors the rest of the way. So off we went to catch the #20, and in short order found ourselves with a few other s on the shuttle wending its way up the twisty road to the top (3 euros round trip). We arrived at the Sanctuary and spent some time admiring the panoramic views from the gardens – wonderful views of the snow topped Apenines in one direction, and the urban landscape of Bologna in the other.

Continuing on the path up to the church, we arrived in the middle of a sung mass. The church was quite full. We stood quietly at the back of the church as the liturgy unfolded, with some lovely choral singing and a wonderful mezzo soloist. Having made our respects, we moved out to let others in. We saw intrepid walkers arriving on foot, and others beginning their return journey down the hill. We stopped in the gift shop to get a couple of postcards, and I found my souvenir for the trip – a set of little music playing angels to add to my Christmas angels collection. I was thrilled.

By this time it was nearly 12:30, and Bill checked the shuttle schedule, only to find the shuttle did not run between 12 – 2 pm! Captives on San Luca! But relief was just around the corner, for a little ways down the road from the shuttle stop was a café/bar. Fearing mediocre food at inflated prices, we were inordinately pleased to have a stellar dining experience at Vico. We discovered it was a fairly large restaurant, with a large and diverse menu. Intending only to get a pizza or a salad, we saw the lasagna being served to the next table and succumbed to temptation , ordering one vegetable and one mushroom l – thin tender layers of homemade pasta with delicious fillings. We shared a mixed green salad, had the requisite aqua minerale, and then even had dessert – there were cups of fresh strawberries, served with a scoop of vanilla gelato for me, and a pastry cream and fresh strawberry tart for Bill. It was a delicious meal, in a lovely location.

The rest of the day passed quietly, dinner was in a small trattoria in the neighborhood of the hotel, and another day in Bologna came to a close.

Thursday morning found us spending almost two hours over breakfast again, as we visited with Gabriella and talked about everything under the sun, including the EU elections being held on Sunday. It was interesting to get a local’s perspective on the state of politics and politicians in Italy.

Our plan was to vacate our room by 10 am, leaving our bags at the B&B while we took a bus out to the one outlying monument we wanted to see ---St. Apollinare in Classe, But Gabriella said as there was no one coming in to stay in our room Thursday night, we should just leave things in our room until we returned, so that we could freshen up before leaving town.

Gabriella told us where to catch the bus to Classe, and off we went. The 8 km trip was short, and it was interesting to see some of the countryside outside the old center of Ravenna. St. Apollinare in Classe is another monumental building from the 6th century, decorated with more amazing mosaics.

St. Apollonare in Classe - nave

And the decorations of each of the places we visited were different , but equally beautiful.

St. Apollonare in Classe - mosaic detail

It was definitely worth the trip.

By the time we were ready to return to Ravenna it was already after noon – so we decided to stop for lunch before going back to the B&B to retrieve our bags and head for the big city. The bus let us off only about a block from the wine bar recommended by several Slow Travelers, as well as Gabriella – and we enjoyed a light lunch at “Ca de Ven”. I enjoyed a huge plate of prosciutto and sweet juicy melon along with my glass of wine – a perfect lunch for what was a very warm day.

Prosciutto e melone at Ca' de' Ven

After our lunch break we returned to say a final farewell to Gabriella, and left for Bologna. (and we won’t talk about the fact that I had failed to notice when reading the timetable that there is NO train in the 2:00 hour – though there is on an hour every other hour of the day!)

We loved our stay in Ravenna – it is quiet and tranquil, with an old center that is almost vehicle free. We enjoyed watching everyone from little children to very senior senior citizens using heavy duty bicycles as they went about their daily affairs, and to get the sense that we were in a small town where everyone knew his neighbor, and enjoyed being part of the community. It welcomed us as visitors, and gave us a gentle entry into Italy.

Our arrival in Bologna threw us into culture shock! After the quiet of Ravenna, the noise, and crowds and cars, and motorcycles, and traffic overwhelmed the senses. We were glad to arrive at our hotel – Hotel Paradise – in a relatively quiet side street away from the busy traffic. We were welcomed warmly, and found our room to be sparkling clean and spacious – and the wireless working like a charm!

I had a long list of restaurants recommended by fellow Slow Travelers, but by dinner time we were ready for something simple and close to the hotel. We asked the receptionist for a recommendation, and she suggested a reataurant a short walk away, in the student quarter – Ristorante Mascarino, on Via Mascarella. It was a good suggestion – wonderfully tasty traditional Bolognese food at a reasonable price, with a delightful young waiter with whom we enjoyed a friendly conversation. I had a simple ravioli dish and a wonderful insalatta mista; Bill ordered a grilled dish without knowing for sure what he was getting, but was delighted when the waiter put a dish in front of him with 5 succulent grilled small loin lamb chops and a small salad. We shared a contorno of grilled vegetables, a ½ liter of wine and a bottle of water, and left feeling very satisfied. Interestingly enough, when I was looking over Matt’s notes on Bologna, I found the restaurant was one Matt had recommended at the same location, but with a different name.

The area was definitely high energy—there was a huge group of college age people congregated outside a small used book store when we went into the restaurant – and by the time we left the crowd had grown even larger, and everyone seemed to be having a wonderful time – there was lots of talking, and laughter and general merriment, fueled by many bottles of beer.
We enjoyed a post –prandial stroll around the area before returning to the hotel for the night.

Following a long standing “first day in town” tradition we mis-read the map and went off in the wrong direction when looking for the Mercato del Erbe. But even when we go astray we find things of interest! This morning it was a wedding party outside of the city offices at Piazza Maggiore, with family and friends in attendance. Lots of little kids running around all dressed in their finest, a beautiful bride in a lovely gown, and a handsome groom. It was fun.

Wedding Party

Since we were right at Piazza Maggiore and the Piazza Nettuno, we decided to visit the Basilica of St. Petronius. It is a large church – originally planned to be larger than St. Peters in Rome. But it feels light and airy thanks to a simple, uncluttered interior. The pillars that define the nave are made of warm terracotta bricks, capped by stone capitals with an acanthus design, reaching up to graceful arched ceilings in an Italian Gothic style. There are fragments of early frescoes high on the walls, and a variety of religious art in the side chapels. Overall, it has a feeling of solidity, but is at the same time graceful.

After visiting the Basilica we wandered happily through the adjacent narrow streets for some time admiring the fruit and vegetable stalls, the sparklingly fresh fish in the fish markets, a the many varieties of pasta and the mouthwatering creations on display in the pasticcerie. We stopped for coffee at Eatily, and spent a little time browsing all the wonderful food items on display.

We then decided to visit the complex of churches known as the Complesso di S. Stefano. To get there we walked past an area of medieval arcades, with the supporting structure made of gnarled and darkened wooden piers. Of course, when we arrived at S. Stefano we realized that time and Italy wait for no tourists – it was fermata for lunch! So we decided when in Bologna, do as the Bolognese do – and we headed off on a side street looking for somewhere to sit and have a bite to eat. We found a small local bar/café with sidewalk tables, where the proprietor was more than happy to make us a lovely green salad to accompany our piadine and aqua minerale – for a total of under 10 euros. It was clearly a local hangout, and we sat and enjoyed the interaction of owners and customers.

Even after our relaxed lunch, there were still a couple of hours to fill before the church reopened, so we strolled along headed for dessert – at the via San Vitale location of Gelateria Gianni. Here we both decided we HAD to try the chocolate gelato – an amazingly rich, dark, almost black concoction of intense flavor. Incredibly rich, especially when paired with coffee (Bill) and Mascarpone (Judy) gelato.

We looked at the Due Torre, but in the heat of the afternoon, and considering the condition of our mature bodies, decided NOT to climb up, contenting ourselves with the knowledge that we could enjoy reading about the experience of others on Slow Travel. Conveniently nearby was Feltrinelli’s bookstore, where we were able to pass the time browsing the books – and where Bill picked up a Camillieri novel he had not yet read.

We then retraced our steps and arrived at S. Stefano shortly after it re-opened. What a magnificent complex of medieval places of worship – the seven churches date back over a thousand years! A sense of serenity and calm permeates the spaces, and we wandered for quite some time trying to take in the many diverse features of the ancient structures.

S. Stefano

By the time we had explored S. Stefano it was time to return to the hotel for a rest – but not without a few detours to window shop and look at restaurant menus. Aching feet and humid atmosphere made eating close to the hotel sound like a very good idea, so we opted for the Trattoria Mariposa, directly across the street from the hotel. Here we enjoyed a simple but tasty meal and enjoyed sharing the tiny dining room with a father and 6-7 yr. old daughter who were French, and a group of local friends apparently celebrating a birthday, with much conviviality. After our meal we strolled around the area to see what else was nearby – and discovered on a nearby street a square window cut into the wall that overlooked one of what was once a whole network of canals in Bologna.

We finished the evening with a stop at another recommended gelateria – the Gelateria delle Moline – which, at 10:30 at night was amazingly busy, with a steady stream of well dressed locals and not so locals coming to experience wonderful gelato. I had read in Matt’s article on Bologna that this place was known for its fruit flavors, and indeed, the limone (my own “benchmark” flavor) and the frutta di bosco were fantastic – not overly sweet, and bursting with flavor. Bill enjoyed a granita di caffe, which was one of several flavors on offer. We sat at sidewalk chairs and people watched – both at the gelateria and a small local bar across the street, where a totally different crowd assembled, beer bottles in hand, enjoying the warmth of the evening in the company of friends. A satisfying way to enjoy a pleasant day in Bologna.

Via delle Moline nightlife

Gelateria delle Moline

After my early rising and quiet time on the terrace, Bill awoke, and we descended to the breakfast room at the B&B where a lovely meal awaited us, along with the company of our gracious hostess Gabriella. It was a typical Italian breakfast, but with wonderful homemade “marmelate”, prepared by her Sardegnian mother in law – absolutely delicious. An hour and a half later we were still in the kitchen, enjoying a far ranging conversation with her, on topics ranging from the election of President Obama (she was thrilled when he was chosen); her disdain for Berlusconi; the impact of globalization on the cost of produce at the local market; the nuances of language use. We seemed to have established a connection very quickly – perhaps because I had mentioned when we arrived that we were there at the recommendation of Letizia, whom she remembered with fondness. She mentioned that she wished she had studied English in school instead of French, and asked us to review and edit her standard confirmation email to English speaking clients – which involved an interesting dialogue on differences in the ways we use language. When my Italian failed me, we discovered French was a good fall-back, as I have a larger retrievable vocabulary in that language.

St. Vitale

We finally dragged ourselves away, and started our sightseeing day at the Basilica of San Vitale and its adjacent Mausoleo di Galla Placidia. What a feast for the senses – the mosaics defy description, except to say that the intensity of the colors, and the intricacy of the designs were overwhelmingly awesome. I am not familiar with the religious iconography, but could appreciate the artistic vision and the labor that went into the creation of these works some 15 – 16 centuries ago. And the longer we looked at the beauty surrounding us, the more details we saw. The vastness of the Basilica was amazing; in contrast, the intimacy of the mausoleo was impressive. It is under renovation, with a group of young artists working on one wall. The Basilica impressed with the intensity and freshness of its predominant green; the mausoleo was darker, surrounding you with a deep blue palette.

Leaving St. Vitale we stopped briefly at Annafietta,a mosaics workshop and gallery recommended by Pokey, where we did our part to improve the local economy. Then it was on to the local internet point, as I hadn’t been able to get wi-fi connectivity at the B&B and needed to notify my credit union that they needed to look at their records and unblock my debit card! Luckily, having taken the advice of several fellow STers I had a second debit card, but prefer to use the one that is tied to my checking account – which I had watched a bank officer annotate with my dates abroad!

Next stop was the Domus dei Tappeti di Pietra – where excavations by a local wanting to build a garage under his property unearthed remains of construction from several different eras, some as early as the 3rd century BC. They have highlighted a 14 room noble home from the 6th century – and we were able to see wonderful mosaic pavements from that era.

Lunch was at a true “local joint” – a self service restaurant in the covered market. It offered an amazing variety of dishes at a reasonable price, and was packed with locals from local shops and businesses, many of whom clearly knew each other. Not gourmet food – but I had a great pizza made to order with pancetta and mushrooms; Bill chose a build it yourself salad plate with a variety of vegetables and other salads.

Following our lunch we started across town to the Basilica di St. Apollinare Nuovo – stopping en route at the post office to buy stamps for a few postcards for our non-cyber connected friends. The Italian post office certainly is an example of bureaucracy in action! Through the Piazza del Popolo and Piazza Garibaldi we went – and then, with little warning, the thunder and lightning began, and huge drops of rain began to fall. Umbrellas? In our suitcases, of course. But only about a block beyond the piazza we found a small bar, where we lingered over a coffee until the clouds passed over and the sun returned – only about a quarter of an hour later.

Three Kings from St. Apollinare Nuovo

St. Apollinare Nuovo was next on our list – and again, we were awed by the beauty of the decoration, and the light and spaciousness of the 6th century building. Here the mosaics reflected both the Catholic and the Arian religious traditions. Above the high windows that flanked the central nave were wonderfully realized depictions of the life of Christ.

There was still time to visit one more monument – the Battistero degli Ortodossi, small but breathtakingly beautiful, with decorations on the ceiling as well as on the walls and in the niches surrounding the center.

Delighted to have been able to feast our senses on such a wealth of artwork from ancient times, we wandered back to our B&B, once again joining the locals on the Corso Cavour – fathers and mothers on bicycles with one or two children in front or back of them, a mother on a bicycle with a 3 -4 year old along side on his tiny bicycle with training wheels, being taught how to ride and how to handle the local traffic; two pre-teens on roller blades, stopping to chat with classmates. We couldn’t pass the gelateria without stopping this time, and joined a large crowd of students with the same objective in mind. We got our cornetti and enjoyed our afternoon treat before returning for a rest on our terrace.

We chose another restaurant recommended by our hostess for our dinner – La Bella Venezia, where we enjoyed another satisfying meal. We split a primi of ravioli filled with ricotta and nettles, in a light tomato sauce; Bill had a second of roast beef with a reduced balsamic sauce and I had an amazing veal chop infused with the flavor from its sage and butter sauce. We shared an order of grilled vegetables and a half liter of wine. With aqua minerale, our bill was only about 50 euros – about 10 more than our first night’s dinner.

Content and full, we meandered back to our Ravenna home, where jet lag caught up with us, and we called it a night.

Have I told you how much I LOVE travel days (NOT!)? There is no easy way to reach Europe from California – and with all the experience I’ve had traveling over the years, I should have learned a few lessons about what to do and what not to do. But no – I think my brain had stepped out for a break when we decided on our itinerary for this trip.

Tuesday morning I was up at 7:30 am to give my housesitter a final debriefing, check emails for the last time, pack the final bits and pieces, and be ready for a ride to the BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit) station for a 10:15 am train to the airport. We were checked in, through security and headed for a final cup of coffee an hour and a half later, and ready for our 1:45 flight. The 747 was completely full – the middle seat in our row of three seats, which had showed as empty when I checked Monday night was taken just before the doors closed on the aircraft by a very pleasant young man who was delighted to take my window seat so I wouldn’t have to climb over him en route.

What to say about the 10 ½ hr. flight? Well – it didn’t break up mysteriously over the Atlantic Ocean, and touched down in Frankfurt 15 minutes early, which meant we had to wait 20 minutes for a debarkation slot at one of Frankfurt’s remote deplaning areas! The food was even worse than usual; service was pleasant, but perfunctory – in short, a typical long distance flight. Our seat companion hunkered down and fell asleep about 2 hours into the flight (oh, how I envy the young!). And even though I had set my watch to Italy time when we got on the plane, my body was NOT ready to go to sleep at what was 4, or even 6 pm California time, and neither Bill nor I got more than an hour or so of sleep en route.

I will spare you the details of transiting through Frankfurt – except that whoever it was at Slow Travel who said they had improved signage and it wasn’t bad was living in a different universe from mine. Luckily we had a 3 ½ hr. layover – enough time to deplane down the metal stairways, cram into the shuttle bus and get the scenic tour of the tarmac on the way to the terminal. After going through passport control, we got some great excersie walking from one end of the cavernous facility to the other to stand in a security line set up to rival an A ride at Disneyland, with uniformed staff making sure no one took a short cut through the many switchbacks in an almost empty queue. Progress was brought to a halt at security by an angry young woman who refused to let the authorities confiscate two bottles of water she had purchased IN the airport between the passport control and security (after a manager was called, they gave her the option of giving up the water or drinking it in the security area), and after walking back through the upper level of the terminal to about the point where we had entered, we found that ours was one of two boarding gates DOWNSTAIRS. We had time to grab a quick Panini and drink, and returned to our gate just in time to board a shuttle to yet another remote area where our 18 row puddle jumper was being readied for the flight – gas was being pumped, and we could watch the luggage handlers throwing (and I use that word advisedly) the bags into the hold with throwing arms that would be the envy of an NFL coach, all from our prime viewing spot in the crammed shuttle bus. They eventually got the ladder set up and we boarded, only to find out winds had forced the closing of one of the runways, and our departure was delayed 20 minutes while we waited for our turn to take off.

Finally, we arrived in Italy – only about half an hour late – and were delighted to be reunited with our luggage. We considered taking the airport bus to the train station (oh yes – our day’s travels were not yet over), but looked at one another and headed for the taxi stand instead, and had a lovely conversation with a very pleasant and competent driver as we wove our way through Florence traffic. At the station we had great fun using the automatic ticket machines to purchase our tickets to Ravenna and felt ever so pleased when the machine actually spewed out the right tickets! By this time (about 3:30 pm, Florence time) we were both a little tired and ready for a gelato, but could not see one in view of the station, and realized wandering around with (dare I say it) too much luggage) was not an enticing prospect, so we stood with the crowd under the departures board waiting for a sign to tell us which binario to go to to board the Eurostar to Bologna, for transfer to the Ravenna train. Oh yes – it had been a while since we travelled by train, and my mind had blanked out the supreme joy of navigating with luggage. But we managed to get 2 wheeled bags, a wheeled carry-on, a back pack and a bag carrying my CPAP (breathing aid) machine on to the train, and then got those same bags OFF the train in Bologna, and DOWN the stairs to find out which binario would get us to the Ravenna train, and then UP the stairs to that platform, and then ON to the Ravenna train where we took turns falling asleep despite the group of college age students enjoying a laughter filled trip home at the end of the day. And then, only, 27 hrs after arising in Berkeley we arrived in Ravenna, and after one more OFF the train, DOWN the stairs and UP the stairs, we were in this delightful Italian town!

View of St. Vitale from our B&B terrace

After a short taxi ride delivered us to the Galla Placidia B&B, I knew all the effort had been worth it. It was on a quiet street that backs on the walls of San Vitale, just a short stroll from one of the main pedestrian streets. Our hostess was delightful and welcoming. Our 2nd floor room opened on a large plant filled terrace (where I sit listening to the birds and writing this entry). We chatted for a few minutes, she offered us a cold drink, gave us a brochure about the town and an overview of where everything was, suggested a few restaurants we might enjoy, and left us to wash up, change and wander out for a light supper.

And as we wandered down the Corso Cavour past shop windows full of antiques, young fashion, jewelry and optical shops, watching the local residents bike by, and the young people out enjoying the soft warm late evening light I realized once again what draws us back to Italy.

We had decided to eat at a small trattoria that our hostess had suggested – we were too tired to want anything fancy – and were delighted by the Ristorante Ravenna di Mario, where we sat at an outside table enjoying the play of the setting sun’s light on the yellow buildings, basking in the soft, warm evening air, and trying to stay awake long enough to replenish our bodies. We shared an appetizer of Squaquerone con fighi, a soft white cheese with a hint of tang, served with a bowl of rich, sweet fig preserves on warm wedges of homemade flatbread and slices of a delicious local bread. A shared serving of tagliarini con lepre followed – the deep yellow homemade pasta coated in a rich sauce of tomato and a tang of game from the wild hare. I was delighted to find verdure al ferri as one of the options for a secondi – I craved vegetables, and was not disappointed by my abundant serving of grilled red pepper, eggplant, tomato, potatoes, arugula, zucchini, and sweet yellow onion flavored with thyme and served with a cruet of olive oil to add an extra layer of flavor. Bill chose grilled bacala – rich and tasty salted cod. We shared both dishes, but could not finish either. We enjoyed chatting with our young waitress, and visiting with others enjoying their meals – a couple from Germany on one side, and two French couples on the other. It was a polyglot conversation, and in my tired stupor, I found myself responding to our waitress in French instead of Italian – she laughed, and replied in French. I do enjoy being in Europe!

We had passed a gelateria on our walk to the restaurant, and had thought we would stop there on our way home, but we were way too full to even consider it, and concentrated on getting back to the B&B and falling into bed by about 10 pm, totally exhausted, but oh, so happy to be here.

Thursday morning found me awake at 5:15 – after tossing about for a few minutes, I decided to get up and take advantage of the laptop to record our busy travel day – sitting barefoot on our private terrace in the quiet of the morning while Bill sleeps on.