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Escape to Emilia-Romagna

8 Jun
The heat built fast in Roma. Ten days prior we were putting on our fleece jackets in the morning because it was cold in the apartment, but by the time my brother and sister-in-law arrived June 1, that was no longer a problem: it was getting warm. Luckily for us – if not for our cat sitters – we were leaving Roma. We also left behind the tourist hoards.
Lunch on the veranda at Corte d'Aibo is a family affair.

Lunch on the veranda at Corte d’Aibo is a family affair.

Heading to Emilia-Romagna on June 2 (the Festival of the Republic which celebrates the election in 1946 when the monarchy was rejected in favor of a republic), we left behind the Roma tourists only to find throngs of Italians. At least they were at lunch when we arrived at Agriturismo Corte d’AiboBut that was the holiday and the last day of the Italian four-day weekend. Continuing on to our mountain destination of Montese, we found ourselves the only tourists at the very pleasant Hotel Belvedere .
This is not your average balsamico. This is Aceto Balsamico Tradizionale di Modena, another thing entirely.

This is not your average balsamico. This is Aceto Balsamico Tradizionale di Modena, another thing entirely.

I found Hotel Belvedere and Corte d’Aibo thanks to Riccardo of Trekking Emilia-Romagna. Somehow my SIL Jane and I hit on going to E-R and hiking, and I was fortunate to stumble upon Riccardo’s company. He put together a great itinerary for us including a tasting and tour at an acetaio called Ca’ dal Non,  lunch at the agriturismo, and a guided hike through the mountains, which saw significant action in World War II. The arrangements also included our hotel, breakfasts and dinners. All we had to do was show up and sweat a little on the hike.
Stefano, foreground, explains a fountain in the mountains to Jane, Rick and Ric. Multiple basins allowed people to use one for drnking water, the next for washing, and a final one for watering livestock.

Stefano, foreground, explains a fountain in the mountains to Jane, Rick and Ric. Multiple basins allowed people to use one for drinking water, the next for washing, and a final one for watering livestock.

During our hike, we learned about the flora, fauna and history of the area. The Gothic Line was here, a place where Germany was making a last stance in the north of Italy as the Allied Armies, having fought their way north through the boot, bombed the heck out of them, and unfortunately, also bombed the Italian villages.
We met an older man – he said he was 80 – who upon learning we were Americans said, “The Germans went away, the Americans left, and now there are no porcini.” He was jesting, but memories are long: although we “liberated” the area, the old growth forest was destroyed by both the German occupiers and the liberating armies, so the treasured porcini no longer grow there. We chatted in Italian for a while and when we commented on his good health and energy (after all he was taking the same long hike that was wearing out us 60-somethings) he said “They gave me an organ donor card and I told them ‘take anything you want; none of it works anyway!’”
Ric in our woodsy picnic spot, an area frequented by families on Sundays. This one surrounded a church that commemorated the civilians killed in the area.

Ric in our woodsy picnic spot, an area frequented by families on Sundays. This one surrounded a church that commemorated the civilians killed in the area.

Stefano, our guide, was a font of information and knew the area well, having grown up nearby in the famous cherry town of Vignola. He speaks excellent English having lived in the U.S. (He loves Seattle!) We lugged along Parmegiano-Reggiano, salume, bread, and fruit for a picnic, along with local Lambrusco and a homemade crostata, all supplied by the hotel. At the end of the trek, my pedometer wrongly said the hike was about 8 km, Stefano said 11, my brother estimated 12. It felt like 18.
We were then treated to a tour of a caseificio or cheese factory at Dal Contadino.  This was a multi-generational farm operation producing the famous parmigiano-reggiano as well as ricotta, marmalade, and more. It was fun to visit a typical small family operation and see the incredible labor that goes into making this cheese. The artigianale beers they served with the cheese really hit the spot after hiking. If you ever get a chance to drink White Dog Beer, do it.
At the top of Mount Belvedere there is a monument honoring the 10th Mountain Division.

At the top of Mount Belvedere there is a monument honoring the 10th Mountain Division.

I have to say that, whatever the length, the trek barely dented the calories we were consuming. The kind owners of Hotel Belvedere looked after us well. Clean, comfortable rooms with good showers, incredible food from classic pastas for primi to roasted rabbit, pork and steak for secondi. They were also experts in recommending local wines to complement their food and served some of the best grappa around. Compare this with an American town of 3400 people where your choice of wine with dinner might be beer.
Montese has a castle dating back to the 13th century.

Montese has a castle dating back to the 13th century.

This was not high tourist season. In fact, it seems only August gets pretty busy. Otherwise Montese is off the radar of folks headed to more famous destinations. Nearby one can visit the Ferrari Museum in Maranello, the town of Modena, and even Parma is within reach.
After three nights we somewhat reluctantly said good-bye to Montese and the lovely folks at the hotel, as this was part one of a three-part trip. On to Lago di Garda!
Piazza in Montese, in front of the Hotel Belvedere.

Piazza in Montese, in front of the Hotel Belvedere.

We took one day away from Montese to journey to Maranello and the Ferrari Museum. Quite a collection!

We took one day away from Montese to journey to Maranello and the Ferrari Museum. Quite a collection!

Island life

18 Apr
I’ve been wanting to go to the islands off the coast at Napoli for a long time.  More well-known are Capri and Ischia. Since we only had a couple of days, I picked Procida and made it a mystery-trip-delayed-birthday-celebration for Ric. It should have been beautiful weather. This was also our last getaway before retirement.  All I can say is that at least it wasn’t as cold as Tuscany in February.
We were able, as usual, to make the most of it despite the weather. When it was not inclement we headed outdoors. When it rained, we luxuriated in long hours of reading in our very pleasant room over-looking a marina. The food was terrific: fish and shellfish galore, crisp white wine from Ischia, and decent pizza. (See Our Weekly Pizza.)  Much like when we used to go to Cannon Beach, Oregon, in winter, it was a relaxing break from the everyday. It is nice to get out of the city.
There were many people traveling to-and-from Procida and Ischia, many clearly bound for homes of family and friends. The ferry out on Saturday was packed as many Italians travel at Easter. There were not so many tourists, but we were far from alone. Clearly others expected Mediterranean Spring as well.
If one is in Italy for a few weeks of intense travel and sightseeing, Procida would make a nice break, a “vacation from your vacation” as Rick Steves says.  Herewith a slideshow to give you a feel for Procida. Click on any picture to start the show.

First and last

4 Apr
The other day, as I packed for a short work-related trip to Milano, I realized this would be my last business trip ever and I could not help recalling to my first, in 1978. That trip had not crossed my mind in years but it was remarkable and the memories now recalled are vivid even these 37 years later.
Washington, D.C.
Washington, D.C. Image courtesy of Vichaya Kiatying-Angsulee. at FreeDigitalPhotos.net
In 1978 I was working for the Bell System in Minneapolis as an instructor. Why at the age of 25 anyone thought I had anything to teach anyone I don’t know, but I was sent to Washington, D.C., to represent my company in meetings with AT&T and develop a new national training program for our accounts people. Needless to say I was very excited and thought I was a real hotshot. I flew on the now-long-defunct North Central Airlines (whose vestiges live deep inside Delta after many acquisitions) and rented a car at National Airport. (Reagan hadn’t even been elected yet so the airport was far from being renamed.) It was winter. I rented a car and proceeded through the dark city. The rental car broke down on Connecticut Avenue, in front of a church. On a Sunday night there was little traffic. Panic! No cell phones in those days. What to do? As I fretted a man approached the car. More panic! He motioned from the passenger side for me to roll down the window. I cracked it an inch. “I don’t expect you to trust me,” he said, “but it appears you are lost or…” he let the sentence dangle. “I am the pastor of that church. How can I help you?” I explained my situation. He went to the church, called the car rental company, and returned with instructions: leave the car and take a taxi. They would deliver a new car to me in the morning. The pastor even called me a taxi and waited with me until it arrived.
My first business trip was on an airline that no longer exists.
My first business trip was on an airline that no longer exists.
I never got his name, and I doubt I could even find the church any longer, but the kindness of this stranger has not been forgotten. The situation and his kindness made for a memorable experience.
I am hard-pressed to figure out how many business trips I have made over the years. In the 1978-1983 period I often traveled around the upper-Midwest for my employer. Later in the 80s Denver, Phoenix and Seattle figured prominently as the Bell System broke up and I worked for the “Baby Bell” called U.S. West. There were 14 states and 26 cities I had to visit on a regular basis as Vice President of Sales for a division of that large company. Ric and I courted while he flew west and I flew east meeting in Denver’s Red Carpet Club.
In the 90s I had a job in information technology consulting as a managing director requiring travel about 46 weeks a year, often hitting two cities in a week. I sometimes had to look at the phonebook in the middle of the night to remind myself where I was. I was gone so much that our dog quit sleeping on my side of the bed and switched her allegiance to Ric.
I logged over 100K miles each year on Delta for several years.
I logged over 100K miles each year on Delta for several years.
My final career business trip is memorable for other reasons: I am in Italy of all places, not something I would have even dreamed of back in 1978. I took a train, not a plane, and there was no rental car. (It would have cost Euro 40.00 a night to park it!) I will carry memories of terrific co-workers who aided in a difficult task, and of a hotel that tried to charge me extra for checking out early (that’s one I have not heard in 37 years of business travel), and it will be the last time I stay in a luxury hotel paid for by someone else.  No more frequent flyer/sleeper/driver points earned by my employers’ dollars.
How I travel now....
How I travel now….
I am a little nostalgic for those days when airline travel was something one looked forward to. We dressed up, we got reasonably palatable meals served at least some of the time on real china. You could check all of your bags for free! Ric and I were fortunate to take many first class flights on vacation trips, courtesy of those hard-earned miles. The real price of the trip was having to get back on a plane for “fun” after weeks of business trips.
Milano, the Duomo...far removed from D.C.

Milan, the Duomo…far removed from D.C.

Milan, the Duomo…far removed from D.C.
First and last: what a (pardon the pun) trip it has been!

Paris bits and pieces

1 Apr
By now I am used to functioning in two languages. I understand most of what I see in print in Italian, with the exception of the newspaper as it is written in run-on sentences with obscure terminology and archaic verb tenses. When someone speaks directly to me, I understand most of what they are saying if I get the context to start. When I need to communicate me la cavo (I get along) even if my grammar is not perfect.
When we embarked on our trip to Paris I was hit by the realization that I would not understand much of anything from menus to street signs, and I certainly would  not understand spoken French.  Going to France was the most foreign thing we had done since we first traveled to Italy in 2010.
We found ourselves speaking in an odd combination of Italian and English. I am used to speaking Italian to our servers, technicians and shop people in Italy, so that’s the first language that sprang from my lips, combined with mangled French pronunciation. “Prendo il boeuf bourguignon, per favore.” I could not get past grazie to merci until mid-week. In one restaurant, we mixed up languages sufficiently to have the waitress convinced we were Italians who spoke little English. When we said “Merci bonsoir” at the end of the evening, she cheerily replied “Grazie, anche a te!”
There was little hope for me in pronouncing French street names. My Italian-addled brain insists that “Place” must be pronounced PLAH-chay. Once in awhile we’d hear Italian being spoken by other visitors and it was a joy to hear and understand.
Shopping in a French market reminded me of our first trip to Italy when we tried to figure out what things were. Like in Italy, lots of offal was available, from tripe to lambs heads (sorry vegetarians). The Super U was rather ordinary, but some of the shops are magnificent. We found ourselves taking a lot of pictures of store windows and displays.
Here are some Easter treats. Each store had a theme: fish, chickens, cows, even a little mole poking his head above the ground. All gorgeous and expensive. Click on any picture for a slide show.
Fashion windows are creative and the bakeries difficult to resist. The bejeweled athletic-style shoes are Dior. I love the ducks sporting sunglasses and the colorful men’s accessories. Ric showed no interest in blue shoes.

 

Avocados, artichokes and cabbages are arranged attractively. I wish I had taken a picture of the huge strawberries artfully displayed. In the Place du Madeleine area, boutiques with high-end chocolates, teas, cheeses, and wines seemed like museums. 

 

We also found time to see the major sites as we wandered the city. At the end of seven days of tromping about Paris my pedometer reported 162,222 steps. We covered some ground, but there’s so much left on the list that we must go back…but later in the spring so we can enjoy the gardens and maybe take our coats off. 

Paris v. Roma – Part II: Street Scene and Getting Around

22 Mar
In Part One I spoke about the differences in gustatory delights between Paris and Roma. We also have a number of observations to make about architecture, mobility, and behavior.
Street Scene
Saint Dennis holding his head, facade of Notre Dame.
Saint Dennis holding his head, facade of Notre Dame.
When we travel we like to settle in for a long stay. No “Paris-in-three-days” whirlwind for us! We saw one museum a day, at most, and spent plenty of time wandering neighborhoods both wealthy and moderate. We rented an apartment in the 17th arrondissment, managing to stay under our goal of €100.00 per night. It was nothing fancy yet everything we needed. This approach let us observe local life: children going to school, city workers, mothers and fathers, the elderly doing their shopping, transportation systems, and maybe just figure out a little how a place works, what it might be like to live there. Thus a few words on the streets of Paris versus Rome.
Streets in Paris are cleaner than in Roma, due partly to an absence of graffiti and less litter overall. This
This little girl was endlessly fascinated by the pigeons.
This little girl was endlessly fascinated by the pigeons.
is made possible by an amazing system of street cleaning involving surging water and workers with brooms. We first feared all the crap ended up in the River Seine, but lo-and-behold found this explanation.  Cigarette butts and other small debris is washed away, and larger items are bagged by the workers.
In Roma it is a never-ending battle for city workers against messy denizens. If a trash bin is overflowing, they leave their bags on the street, never mind there’s an empty bin 50 yards further on. Of course in Roma graffiti is art (sometimes) and after all, it was invented by the Romans. Old-fashioned street cleaning trucks make their way down the street very few days and hose down the debris, sweeping up some of it.
Notre Dame, of course!
Notre Dame, of course!
Paris’ grand old Haussmann buildings are elegant and the straight streets make navigation on foot easy. The wide tree-lined avenues and boulevards allow one to see far in each direction. Cars are parked in an organized fashion and pedestrian crossings are left open for, well, pedestrians to cross. There are pleasant manicured parks that illustrate design principles.
In Roma every building is an individual, many are very pretty, and most are the same height regulated to not exceed the height of St. Peter’s. We have ancient sites preserved and visible almost everywhere and ancient walls and columns are oft incorporated into new buildings (if by “new” you can accept 400 years as “new”). But we have the ugly serrande pulled down over shops and restaurants and covered with graffiti. Not a pretty street presence, those.
In Roma, streets wind about not only in the Centro Storico and Trastevere, but also in other
The Louvre featured an installation of neon art.
The Louvre featured an installation of neon art.
neighborhoods. They may start by radiating off a piazza, but soon change direction and probably name. Finding your way is a nightmare until you’ve spent considerable time in the city. Trees are scattered, but on the other hand, Rome has some great green spaces (Villa Borghese, Villa Torlonia, Villa Ada, Villa Doria Pamphilj) and fountains running year ‘round. In Paris we did not see a fountain “on” in March.
Parking in Roma shows little respect for property or other people’s rights-of-way. White stripes in the pedestrian crossings are free parking, right? Double-parking is a constant battle for buses trying to weave through the already narrow streets. In Paris we have not seen such abuse of parking. It is very orderly and it seems there are plenty of parcheggi (parking lots).
"I love you" wall in Montmarte.

“I love you” wall in Montmarte.

Cats are absent in Paris. We did not see one cat in a week in Paris. I conjectured that perhaps they are all coddled little Fluffies tucked up in their Haussmann apartments. According to one Parisian I am probably right: they are house cats. Still, no ferals? We walked through residential areas and did see not one cat in a churchyard or courtyard or sitting on a wall. In Roma, a cat outdoors is not only a common sight, there are the gattare, women who feed the cats in the streets. There seemed to be fewer dogs in Paris than in Roma, and thus less dog poop on the sidewalks.
Military and police presence is omnipresent and focused in Paris. The patrols we saw were really
Ti voglio bene - I love you in Italian
Ti voglio bene – I love you in Italian
observing people. Good for them! In Roma, police/military presence is here-and-there and likely to involve five officers in a tight circle talking about soccer.
We did not encounter as much trouble with pedestrians hogging the sidewalks in Paris as we face in Roma. In Roma, groups of people will walk 3, 4, and 5 abreast acting indignant if they have to move for oncoming pedestrians. An old lady with a shopping bag can somehow occupy the entire sidewalk as she shuffles along weaving from side to side as if to thwart anyone from passing her. In Paris people made way as one might expect in crowded situations. If you have not encountered the difference yourself it is hard to describe, but many Romans seem to be so self-absorbed they are unaware of other people needing to pass and use the sidewalks.  I call them sidewalk hogs.
 
Transportation
Paris delivery vehicel.

Paris delivery vehicle.

Ah the Paris Metro! It goes everywhere! People enter the buses from the front, validate their tickets and passes, and exit only from the middle. Che bello! There are seats in both Metro and buses! People stand back and allow others to exit the Metro before forcing their way on, and it is QUIET! One day as we were riding, a guy answered a cell phone call while on the bus and got the stink-eye from an older couple. Any talking is done in hushed tones.
Roma? Chaos! On the bus, enter or exit any door, validate if you feel like it. Noisy? You bet! Several loud cell phone conversations are punctuated with loud talk and laughter. Why not catch up calling your mamma in Bangladesh (pennies a minute according to the ads!) while commuting half-an-hour?  Talk loud too be sure she can hear you over the noise of the bus. In Roma it is hard to get OFF the Metro or bus as the incoming traffic is pushing their way on. Young men fight old ladies for the few seats.
Scooters were everywhere, ridden by both children and adults. Here in Luxembourg Gardens.
Scooters were everywhere, ridden by both children and adults. Here in Luxembourg Gardens.
The Parisian buses are on a schedule! A real schedule! You can go to the RATP trip planner and be told – several hours in advance – when your bus will arrive at your stop. Che meraviglioso!  At each bus stop there is an electronic feed telling you when the next bus will actually arrive. Roma has a few of the electronic signs at downtown stops, but there is nothing resembling a schedule. There are departure times posted for each capolinea, but very rarely are these schedules followed.
Velib bikes all tucked away at night. During the day the racks were empty, all bikes in use.
Velib bikes all tucked away at night. During the day the racks were empty, all bikes in use.
Where in Roma one might be run down by a motorino, in Paris a bicycle might sneak up and knock you flat. The Velib system of bike rentals is very popular. We’d see racks full with 20-or-so bikes in the early mornings and late at night, but during the day they would all be checked out through an efficient subscription system accessible to tourists as well as residents. There are bike lanes in Paris (very few in Roma) that run counter to the direction of cars in one-way streets, so while looking right to see if traffic is clear, a jay-walker might be surprised by a bicycle silently approaching from the left.
We were  unimpressed by the famous TGV high-speed train run by SNCF, except for the price.
Look at the little yellow safety vests the children are wearing! So cute and easy to identify!
Look at the little yellow safety vests the children are wearing! So cute and easy to identify!
We paid less to go from Milan to Paris than from Rome to Milan in order to catch the TGV. However, there were no courtesy beverages like on Trenitalia, and overall we felt the trains were dingy inside and out. The food was overpriced and marginal, and when you are on a train for 7.5 hours, you want need food. Still, we did not have to deal with an airport, and that is always a plus.
 
In summary
Food: Italy for the win! While ethnic selections are few, wine, coffee, quality, healthfulness, and price are all in the positive column for Italy. Paris gets points for baguette. The French pastries and chocolates are amazing, and I prefer pain au chocolat to an Italian cornetto. Much flakier and delicate. The Boeuf Bourguignon at one tiny little bistro we found would be reason enough to go back to Paris.
Wine: Scales tip to Roma again. Quality at every price point. In Paris we got very good wine only at a price we find unacceptable for daily consumption.
Great cappuccino at a neighborhood cafe, where locals go. This was not by a tourist attraction. We drank it at the bar and still it was €4.20 FOR ONE. I shudder to think of what they would have charged if we sat down.
Great cappuccino at a neighborhood cafe, where locals go. This was not by a tourist attraction. We drank it at the bar and still it was €4.20 FOR ONE. I shudder to think of what they would have charged if we sat down.
Coffee: Roma for price and availability; Parisian baristas pour a good shot, but the cost is at least double most bars in Roma.
Architecture: Tie. Paris for elegance, Roma for quaint, ancient, charm.
Parks: Tie. Each city has nice green spaces. Paris’ are more formal, Roma’s more casual, even a bit wild.
Cleanliness: Paris by far! The street cleaning system of Eugène Belgrand is pure genius. City workers are very prominent in tidying up as well.
Transportation/Getting Around: Paris by a mile. The Metro is omnipresent, the buses on time and predictable. In Roma even the bus app we have on our smartphones cannot always predict when the bus will come. People park where they should in Paris, you do not get run over by motorini, and the availability and use of bicycles is laudable. The narcissism of Roman drivers with cars blocking pedestrian crossings and double-parking makes it difficult for buses and walkers to maneuver. The narcissistic self-absorption of pedestrians in Roma makes it difficult to walk down the street without getting knocked into. In Roma, people will walk out of a shop door without looking right or left and run into you. They are quick to apologize, but the behavior never changes as far as I can tell. Rant over.
Park near our apartment in the 17th.

Park near our apartment in the 17th.