Bologna: Part Duo

As our usual Sunday schedule dictated, we woke up and went to Mass. After Mass, Clay insisted on eating at a restaurant that served and American-style brunch. I was sure this would end in disaster. I make an effort to not eat “American” abroad because it usually leads to  disappointment, but not this time. The brunch exceeded my expectations. It was like we were back in the USA brunching on a lazy Sunday enjoying waffles, pancakes, real bacon, a muffin (the jam filled that we like so much), fresh fruit and American coffee. The coffee, while it couldn’t hold a candle to Italian or even Spanish coffee, did remind me of home.

We then headed to the old home of the University of Bologna. The university is noted as being the first and oldest in Europe. It was heavily damaged in World War II, but later rebuilt from the original pieces found in the rubble. You can visit the municipal library established in 1838 and the former anatomy room where they used to carve up cadavers, which was built in the 1600s.

After getting schooled, we went in search of a famous gelato place in Bologna that was recommended by our Modena tour guide. Yes our gelato challenge was still happening. It was day 8 and we were still enjoying gelato. We waited in line for 15-20 minutes. The line was out the door. It was the best to date. Our flavors were vanilla based and not too wild, but they were delicious.

The next day we spent in Bologna should not have been there. When we were planning our trip, we made a mistake and booked an extra night in Bologna. Not sure how it happened, but we’re glad it did in a town as slow and relaxing as Bologna.

On our bonus day we decided to walk the porticoes of Bologna. The city planners instituted the porticoes to protect people from the weather as the milled about. Bologna has the longest portico in the world with 666 archways. The portico leads from downtown to a church on a hilltop. We covered about half on the way up and decided to walk all the way into town to finish them all off. The idea was better than the act. It isn’t the most thrilling walk, but it’s about the only way to get to the top of the hillside.

We grabbed lunch at a shop that deals in meats and cheese. They skirt some laws about health codes so they serve food (the meats and cheeses they sell as if you were at a grocery store) on plates, but they do not have a menu and will not bring the food to your table. They offer suggestions, but cannot have anything set in stone or some such. Very peculiar, but also very tasty.

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We took a little nap before dinner where we indulged in more stuffed pasta. The highlight of the night was going to a small bar and Clay eating a sugar cube that had been soaked in a high grain alcohol. The closet/store sets the cube on alight before the patron, Clay, blows it off and then eats it. A lovely gimmick. Clay can assure you the booze did not completely burn out. He mentioned that the inside of the cube was equivalent to downing lighter fluid. Lucky him.*sips reasonable glass of prosecco as Clay laments his decisions*

 

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It was fun day all around and a great way to leave Bologna. The next day we were off to Cinque Terre, not before buying a few muffins first.

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B-o-l-o-g-n-a

The goal of getting to each city in Italy was to arrive in time to be able to eat lunch. Why was eating lunch so important? Because we were in Italy and I didn’t want to miss a meal while on a train. Italy still does a fair amount of siesta nonsense, so a lot of places are not open between 3:30 and 7, making it very important to not schedule a tour near lunch, otherwise you’ll miss the chance to eat.

Thankfully all the major train stations have a place called VyTA. They sell a muffin that has jam or chocolate stuffing in the middle. We discovered them in Milan and tried to eat a apricot, chocolate, or berry muffin at every train station we encountered. I don’t think I ever grabbed a picture, but they are decent muffins. The sweet fruity or chocolate filling only enhance how deliciously terrible they are for you.

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Chocolate muffin deliciousness.

We didn’t eat too many before arriving in Bologna though, so after we settled in we headed straight out for lunch.

There were plenty of cheap places by us selling day old schwarma or offering the popular afternoon buffet. Loud music was everywhere. Youths chain smoked out in the cafes. Graffiti tags covered any wall nearby. Turned out we were staying within the campus of the University of Bologna. That would explain the cigarette smoke and seedy vibe of the entire area. Sleep would be difficult, especially with the music/food festival and the political propaganda being yelled out on the stage in the square, but it was interesting none the less.

We walked around Bologna with not much to see or do. Like Porto, there is not a lot of pressure to see things in Bolonga. Unlike Porto, thankfully, there is no importance placed on codfish. Instead, Bologna cares about stuffed pasta’s.

As we wandered, we ran into the two famous towers in town, built in order to keep an eye on the surrounding areas to keep the city safe. We also strolled in and around Santo Stefano, a collection of seven churches dating back to 5th century.

We found a place for lunch quite a ways from the busy city center. We had hit the lunch rush. The restaurant was packed, as was the outside, as was the entire basement. We finally got seated in the bowels of the restaurant and made note that places in Italy don’t always go up a level to seat you, sometimes they go down.

Our meal would end up being one of the best we had in Italy. We had a basic panini with proscuitto and cheese and a couple of pasta dishes, ravioli and a ragu with wide noodles. Every thing we ordered was very good. It was also pretty cheap. Good pasta dishes in Italy ran around 8-10 USD.

As we continued to walk around the city, we decided to try out the walking tour from the Bologna Tourism Office. Normally, we only do free walking tours to learn about cities. Up until Venice, every single tour had exceeded our expectation. We could not find one of these in Bologna so we went with a regular tour provided by the city of Bologna.

The first half of the tour never even left Piazza Maggiore. We covered all the old buildings in the square, with a particular focus on the cathedral. Folks in Bologna wanted it to be bigger than St. Peter’s in the Vatican city and it was on track to be so. Then they ran out of money. It was so under-financed they couldn’t even cover the entire facade with marble, much less add. Later a pope decided to build a college next to the church, squashing all hope that the church would be extended any further.

We walked around a bit to see the University of Bologna (the oldest university in Europe)…

the markets of the city…

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the worlds longest sundial…

a famous painting of the Divine Comedy…

… and a group of terracotta statues.

The statues, housed in a quaint church that was once part of the hospital of the area, were some of the best art we have ever seen. Not just on this trip, but ever.

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The whole gang.

The statues known as “Compianto sul Cristo morto” (Lamentation Over the Dead Christ) was made up of six separate individuals standing in a semicircle overlooking the dead Christ. The most moving of the figures is Mary Magdalene who looks as if the air from her screams are blowing her garments away. The expressiveness the artist was able to give the figures is incredible. It is an injustice to only call them amazing.

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After our tour, we strolled around the city unsure of where to go, but excited to be wandering. Music was alive and in the streets. Bands seemed to be parked in the road, playing songs from all over the world. Some we knew, most we didn’t. We managed to find a canal in Bologna (not sure why Venice has such a monopoly).

At we decided that we are stuffed pasta family. The best pasta dishes we devoured are the one’s with meat, cheese, spinach, etc. inside the pasta. I guess we love surprises.

We headed back to our place, unsure if the scene had toned from earlier in the day. It had not. Instead, they had ramped up the racket. The food part of the “festival” was comprised of a rather eclectic cuisine. Our favorite was the Spanish place serving “traditional” Spanish food. Its menu included paella, but also tacos and nachos. Not as authentic as we thought.

The next morning we started our biggest bestest (expensivest) tour yet. With not much to do in Bologna, we had set to visit Modena for a day. This region of Italy is home to Parmesan cheese, Balsamic vinegar, and prosciutto. All of which have a designation so these particular foodstuffs are stamped, sealed, graded, approved, what have you to let everyone around the world know where each came from.

This particular tour didn’t visit places that gave you a hard sale. The tour was more informational and learning-based compared to tours which gave you a little info and then shove you in a shop to hawk their wares. We were finally rid of the Moroccan tour standards.

The tour picked us up next to the train station in Bologna. So before we even started a tour devoted to just food, I ran over to the station to grab one (maybe two) of those jam filled muffins. With another successful meal in Italy completed, our bus took off for the Parmesan factory.

Being in an industrial factory is not glamorous or sexy. Our pictures show us in all the regalia of visitors touring a cheese making facility. Our tour guide affectionately referred to our fashions as the latest Gucci spring fashions. So glamorous. While in our hairnets, we learned everything there is to know about making Parmesan. The most interesting bits of info were about the Parmesan during it’s aging process.

Officials visit each Parmesan factory to check the wheels of cheese. They use a small hammer and other tools to ensure there are no air pockets inside the wheel and it has no significant defects. If mold or a hole develops on the outside of the wheel, they can burn that section to insure bacteria does not spread.

Some wheels are affected so much that it cannot be sold as official Parmigiano-Reggiano. If this happens they scuff the outer edge of the wheel and sell it at a discount. If the wheel is in even worse shape, they end up turning it into the Parmesan cheese Kraft would sell for you to sprinkle on your spaghetti and meatballs.

Once we finished the factory tour, we were able to sample some of the cheese. Of course it was excellent and we bought some 48 month aged. The purchase process was to rummage through a box with various aged Parmesan cheese at various weights, find what you want, and drop some cash in the same box. It was quite the no frills operation.

We arrived at the prosciutto factory next. They weren’t working since it was a Saturday, but we were able to tour the facility with the owner and learn about the process. They also have a formal meat shop selling the cuts they produce, as well as cheeses and other products from around Europe.

Our guide tried his best to give a great understanding of how everything was organized, but the owner, in his excitement and enthusiasm for his profession, could not stop himself from interrupting our guide to give us additional information. It was amusing because the owner only knows Italian and our guide would have to calm him down in Italian and then translate what the owner said to us.

The sampling of meat products was fantastic. Various prosciutti were passed about. The specialty of the house was present, prosciutto stuffed with black truffles. This creation of the owner was my favorite of what we sampled. We ended up buying a fair amount of different cuts, excited for what dinner would look like back in Bologna.

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The final food stop was the stop we were most excited about, Balsamic vinegar. What you buy in the grocery store is not real Balsamic. Even the $20-30 bottle isn’t authentic Balsamic. The real stuff runs $50 or more and is aged for at least 12 years. It’s like buying a quality scotch or whiskey.

This was our first foray into authentic Balsamic and it did not disappoint.

We learned about the barrels. In the family (because of course this is a family business), when a child is born a collection of barrels is created for the him or her. The barrel collection is made up of 5, 6, or 7 barrels of decreasing sizes in various woods. When the child moves out or gets married, the barrels enter the hands of that person. The gentleman who owns the business had his four year old daughter with us and showed us her barrels. He showed us his barrels. He showed us his grandfather’s barrels.

We learned about the production which is rather simple and about the aging process which is quite complex. Wine is cooked down and placed in the largest barrel. Each year a bit from the largest barrel is moved to the next, slightly smaller, barrel in the line. This continues until it reaches the smallest barrel. Eventually, you take from the smallest barrel and you have finished Balsamic.

It was a fantastic learning process and we procured a 25 year bottle of Balsamic. We are using it sparingly.

The day continued as we headed out to Maranello to visit the Ferrari Museum. There was an option to drive a Ferrari, but a few things prevented it from happening for me. The first was the sparkling wine I had at the prosciutto place. The second was the fact that none of the cars have a stick shift. If I was gonna drive a sports car, I wanted it to be an authentic experience. The third was the price. And number four was that I had not driven a car in three months. Not any car at all. I’d been in a few taxis, but not behind the wheel of anything since the US. Probably not a good idea to start back with a Ferrari.

The museum was filled with beautiful cars. But you probably had that figured out.

 

We closed the tour with a very long lunch. It consisted of enough stuffed pasta, grilled meat, and wine to sink a battleship. It was an excellent meal and the folks on the tour with us were pleasant company.

We arrived back in Bologna and took naps. Dinner was a collection of our treats from the day’s tour.

Some people would only take a day trip to Bologna or maybe stay a night or two.We are not some people. We spent four days in Bologna and enjoyed every one of them. The next post will cover the last half of our Bologna stay.

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Venice: Home of the Merchant

From One Side Of Italy to Another – We left Milan in the morning and arrived in Venice before lunch time. Upon arriving, always by train, you exit the station and the grand canal is there to greet you. It’s neat to be on the train and head from the mainland to the island, but a much cooler experience once you see the canals.

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Hello Venice!

We were staying on Murano island, the glass blowing island, for our few days in town. We had to quickly learn about the vaporettos, especially if we were ever gonna get anywhere. We didn’t make any mistakes and quickly made our way to our airbnb on Murano.

It was as awesome as the pictures had made it out to be. It was on a canal without feeling cramped and had an incredible view of the church across the way. Staying in Venice is incredibly expensive, so we were fortunate to find this place at a more reasonable price.

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Perfect view!

Back on Venice island, we walked around the city, taking it all in and trying to find a respite from the tourists. This was more difficult than any place we had traveled thus far. The main tourist attractions were slammed with people.

Luckily, I found a place just a few turns off the Rialto bridge where tourists were not congregating. We enjoyed a couple of glasses of wine and some small sandwiches for only a couple of bucks a piece. 

We began our tour of the Doge’s Palace not long after lunch. It’s a very impressive building typifying the greatness of the former Venetian Empire. While the tour itself was lacking in substance, the architecture and paintings made up for it. A marvelous building to go with a long running empire.

We left there to walk around the city and figure out if we wanted to do anything else in the city. We couldn’t get enough of the streets and canals. All you want to do in Venice is explore. It’s a wonderful, magical place.

We closed the night with dinner back on Murano. It was lovely and quiet, away from the hoards of tourists. Staying on Murano was a great idea, even if it took a bit to get back into Venice each day. We knew by 4-5 each day, Murano would be given back to the locals and people living there. The streets would be empty again. And we could stroll along them for hours.

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Besides a walking tour, we had nothing else do to the next day. Sadly the walking tour was terrible (the only free walking tour to ever not be fantastic). The tour provided little information about Venice’s past and focused more on what typifies  modern Venice. Nevertheless, we carried on.

During the day we wandered around the street, piddling here and there, ate gelato, went to an old rundown bookstore, and found the famous Venetian mask shop. Suffice to say the mask shop was much smaller than we expected and difficult to find. Upon arriving, we were met with a small selection of handmade masks, the most beautiful out of our price range. We chose not to purchase any and left a bit sad that it didn’t work out.

We knew where we wanted to eat dinner, but it was still early so to kill some time before dinner we headed to a cichetti place. It’s the Italian, specifically Venetian, version of tapas. I had read some great things about this spot and we endeavored to find it. Elizabeth wanted to use a paper map (stone age) instead of google maps. Granted google maps isn’t great in Venice as the streets are narrow, but the idea of us walking around actually looking like tourists was too much for me to bear.

Nevertheless, she got us there (with discreet glances at her map). Even if the doorway looked to lead to certain death, inside was another story. It was a nice open space with a dozen or so different cichetti and a nice little bar area. The food was cheap and getting a cocktail (Aperol spritz) and a glass of prosecco for only $2.50 each felt like stealing. Sure the places to stay in Venice are outrageous, but you can find plenty of great places to eat and drink in the city that will keep the pocketbook in decent shape.

As we enjoyed our much needed beverages, we realized the deals were only the second best thing at the bar. The music selection was finally not terrible. Not only was it not terrible, it was excellent. We had been suffering through top 40 every where we went, except Morocco (which only seemed to play late 80’s/early 90’s pop rock or Adele).  The music here was Motown, the big hits too. Nothing obscure, just hit after hit you could sing along too.

We left Bacarando on a high note and headed to dinner to close out another beautiful day in Italy.

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The next morning we decided to visit Burano and pick up a souvenir or two. Before Burano though, we needed to experience Murano and the glass blowing.

We were up a little too early to catch most places putting in work and the place’s that were open felt the need to charge to watch a guy breath into a long tube. We left the area disappointed, but determined to find a place making glass. We found two that were free to watch. It was impressive and hot.

The first group we watched were making larger shapes so they were consonantly working the glass without us ever getting to see a final product. The second we visited was making medium to large animal figures. Within 20-30 seconds of pulling the “glass” out of the furnace, the craftsman began pulling, tugging, and adjusting the malleable goop to turn it into a horse or tiger or whatever was being produced that day.

It was quite impressive. It also took a sad turn. The same gentleman went to place one of his works into the final fire to set the shape and his hook got caught, allowing the figurine to come plummeting to the ground, fracturing into many pieces. He looked a bit dejected, but everyone who had watched was even more sad. The piece was no more though, and he began to replicate what he had just lost.

Catching a vaporetto to Burano, we hoped the clouds would hold off so we could enjoy the colorful island. The weather did not cooperate. We walked a bit and visited the shops on the main drag. We grabbed lunch and watched the rain fall on the cruise ship crowd who had mere minutes on the island before having to head straight back on their boats.

We did buy some small lace items on Burano, dropped them at our place on Murano, and headed back out for one last afternoon in Venice.

We made it to the cathedral, St. Marco, and enjoyed the free entry. The terrace of St. Marco provided great views of the mass of humanity constantly crowding the piazza nearby. The church itself is amazing. The mosaics are incredible. The craftsmanship is astounding. They just don’t make things like the used to.

To commemorate our time in Venice we bought some art, haggling the entire time for a good deal. How I can haggle over art without crumbling is weird considering my inability to do the same in Morocco. I think it’s because it starts at a reasonable price everywhere else but in Morocco where they start by asking for your first born.

Sadly we had to leave to get back to dinner on Murano.  The meal was ok, but the impending thunderstorm pushed us inside earlier than planned. We Bologna was up next, a city not near as many people visit, although they should.

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Milan: A Craftsman City

We were starting to love Milan, an expression that few share due to its focus on business, finance, and normally terrible weather. Before meeting our guide we made one quick stop at the Milan opera house – Teatro alla Scala.

The opera house has a museum attached that included costumes and design sketches. This was the first opera house that we have visited and it was lovely.

After more walking around in the amazing weather and clean streets, we met our guide for the only planned event of Milan, a craftsman tour.

I had found this tour online, but with almost no online presence, we were unsure of how it would play out. Turned out, we had nothing to fear. It has been the best tour we have done on the entire trip.

We met in the piazza by the Duomo and headed straight for a cafe. Italians love their coffee/espresso/cappuccino/macchiato. A locals’ only cafe right near all the tourists, but hidden away after a turn or two off the main square. We exchanged bits of info about one another, enjoyed the jolt of caffeine and headed not to the first craftsman spot, but to other highlights of the city.

Our guide (aware that we weren’t able to go on the regular walking tour) made sure we got to see as much of Milan as possible, all within the area we would be walking. We had checked a few off her list on our own, but one we had not was the bone chapel. It is as odd at sounds. Your mortality is ever apparent upon crossing its threshold.

We didn’t stay too long (thankfully) and moved on to our first craftsman stop, a confectioner’s shop. A family run business since its inception, it originated in Milan when the first owner came back from learning about making such delights in France. We enjoyed the treats, and I enjoyed talking the current owner about American sports, particularly college basketball and football.

From there we headed to the jewelry maker, the milliner, and the sunglass designer. Each provided a brief glimpse into the work involved with creating a product.

The jewelry designer/makers was a relatively short encounter with the creator and head designer of a trendy Milanese brand. The main designer was in and provided us with info on how they design and how much she loves the US. We watched women come and go for their appointments to try on and purchase new items from this lovely boutique.

The milliner was a much less lively affair. It was a glimpse into a man and a business that will end soon and cease to exist. He and his wife run the store basically alone. They take orders and make hats. He made hats for the Queen of England and her friends. If you want a special hat made to your size, this is where you go.

We were able to see his workshop, where he keeps the lasts for the molding of each design, touch the fabrics, talk to his wife about how he comes about the designs and try on a couple of hats only there as examples. We were even told a story about when the city tried to tax him for his use of an espresso machine in his workshop. He explained to the city the machine was not used to make coffee. When the city showed up, they learned he had reconfigured the machine in order to steam the hats to shape each properly. It could no longer make coffee, and he was not taxed. The hats were beautiful and it’s a terrible loss that one day it will fade away.

As we were about to leave, he looked at me and told me my hat size. He said either 61 or 62 centimeters. Not knowing my head size in European measurements, I took his word for it. He then commenced to measure my head. When he pulled the tape back it was at 61.5 centimeters. You have to be impressed when someone knows their craft that well.

We closed the craftsman section with sunglass designer. They didn’t just design sunglasses. They sold other brands and had the largest private collection of glasses in Italy. Most of them are at the owners house, but many are displayed all about the store or in cabinets ready to try on. We tried on many pair and almost bought a couple.

Our guide wasn’t done though. She also wanted to take us to a local bar serving a traditional buffet with drinks. The idea is to swing by a bar on your way home, have a glass of wine, and indulge in a few small plates of antipasto. We sat and talked for a while. She wanted to know about us and our trip.

We continued talking as she directed us to our final destination, the canals of Milan. Yes Milan has a couple of canals. Our guide told us about the shops and restaurants along the canal and gave us a few suggestions. After sampling a few beverages, we finished the night at a restaurant that served some type and form of cheese in every dish. It was a very rich meal and quite delicious.

We headed to bed later than planned, but we were excited. Venice was next.

Milan: An Intro to Italy

Italy = Picture Overload.

Elizabeth spent the first night/morning of Italy doing laundry. From the hours of 1-3 AM, the time right after we arrived by taxi to Milan, she was up and cleaning clothes that had not been washed for around two months.  We were both very excited about this development.

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She keeps us smelling fresh.

So to celebrate, we slept in and arrived at our 10 AM walking tour at 9:55. Upon arriving in the correct location and early, we are made aware that our reservation was not in fact a reservation. It was more of a head count type thing. The tour was now full and we were SOL.

I had been standing a distance away from this, taking pictures, but caught enough to figure it out. Elizabeth was devastated. We had reconfigured the morning to get a few extra hours of sleep, per my request, and it had bit us in the ass.

I told her we should stay with the tour anyway. Who cares if it’s full, they couldn’t stop us from walking with them if we want. But she is too angry, too upset to give the tour the satisfaction.

Instead, we walk to the other side of the piazza to figure out what to do. This has been our first tour that didn’t work out. Everything we had booked on the trip this far had gone off without a hitch. Not everything was great, but at least it happened. Our daily schedules were built around tours like this.

As Elizabeth began to tear up, I ran off to the nearest hotel in hopes of finding us another tour. Turns out every Milan walking tour for the next two days was booked solid. 

At this point, we would normally get into an argument. We both struggle with an inability to be decisive, me more so than Elizabeth. With our tour canceled and the rest of the day also unplanned, we have 8-10 hours with nothing to do. In the past, this empty space would have been crippling to us. Ideas would have been floated up, shot down, and we would have stood there for 30 minutes to an hour before arguing and going our separate ways.

Instead, Elizabeth made a decision, I immediately acquiesced, and we headed over to visit the Duomo of Milan. I changed my mind once we saw the line. Thankfully, Elizabeth was steadfast. She said she would wait, and I could go take pictures around the city. It provided both of us time to grieve about the tour trying to ruin our day.

Once inside the Duomo, it was boring. Another church, lots of columns, stained glass, high roof, quite a bit of beauty, but not particularly original. It was great to not have to look at another moqsue and minaret, but if the only other option was back to churches, I think I’d just stay in the apartment eating prosciutto and drinking prosecco.

Underneath the church is a the ruins from the previous churches that once stood where the Duomo is today. In the 70’s the whole plaza in front of the church was removed and they excavated the area. We thought scaffolding was bad. Can you even imagine showing up and the whole plaza looks like a construction zone?

However, the big thing to do at this church is head to the rooftop. It seems that the roof was built with paths for people to walk around and not just for roofers.

The views were awesome. Milan is no not known for great weather. Typically it is foggy and hazy. The day we ascended the stairs to get views of the city was not indicative of Milan weather we were told.  

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You could clearly see the Alps. You could see for miles. As a Gothic cathedral, there were wonderful design elements everywhere. It was difficult to stop taking pictures. The wait was worth it. I should listen to my wife more I suppose.

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Alps in the background!

We left on a high note to go strolling in the city, looking for lunch. I didn’t want our first meal in Italy to be a disappointment, but it was a Sunday at lunch. Not the best time to find nice places open. But I managed to find just such a place. The best dish we had was one of two of the most famous dishes of Milan, risotto Milanese.

It was one of the best risottos we have consumed. A great way to start our food adventure of Italy, but also nerve-wracking since our meals would now be compared to this dish.

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First Italian Meal

With no plans other than finding mass, we strolled around parks and lanes, finding a festival for dogs and also a festival touting individual regions of Italy. These regions were not only for the big areas you know, it was really more for the smaller places to have a venue to brag about their culinary delights, all within a castle from the 1400’s. After buying some Lambrusco, we stopped by a cheap food stand to experience our first Italian gelato.

This first gelato would be the beginning of our gelato challenge. Never one to shirk from an opportunity to go overboard, I told Elizabeth we would be eating gelato every day we were in Italy, twenty eight days in a row. We would see how long we could last.  One week? Two? Could we go four weeks straight, eating at least one scoop of gelato every day?  I didn’t think we could, but I wanted to push us to the brink to see how far we could last.

Day 1 gelato finished, we arrived at mass looking out of place. We were among the few pale faces in the crowd.  The mass was supposed to be in English, but after looking around we were unsure. The crowd was predominantly Asian and based on my limited knowledge, looked to be more from the islands south east of Asia as opposed to the continent itself.

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Tagalong/English church

It all became clear when the projector screen showed the mass was to take place in two languages, English and Tagalong, the native language of the Philippines. We understood all of the English parts and none of the other, but it was fun to sing in Tagalong and the youth choir had some great voices to accompany the congregation.

Dinner was another traditional dish, osso buco, at a very traditional restaurant. I had been excited to try the dish in Milan and was able to order it. I will need to revisit Milan though in hopes of having a good version next time. We were later told it was a little silly for us to order it as it is typically a winter dish.

With nothing planned for the next morning (we botched getting tickets for The Last Supper while on the Camino so we had extra free time in Milan), I decided I would make up the tour we were pushed out of the day before.  I found the list of places the tour visited and off we went.

We visited old building, churches, and Milan University, at one time the most modern hospital in the world during the 1400-1500’s. We spent a fair amount of time walking around the campus, with its history and whatnot. Sadly, with all that walking, we never found a student store peddling team apparel. I knew colleges around the world don’t do sports teams, but I though we could find a sweatshirt with something on it. Nope.

Instead, we celebrated our successful morning with lunch at Luini. The most famous cheap eats in Milan, they sell the equivalent of miniature calzones. Adorable, fluffy, delicious little savory (or sweet) turnovers filled with many different things. It was great to not have to alternate between a tajine or couscous.

We were starting to love Milan, an expression that few share due to its focus on business, finance, and normally terrible weather. Our appreciation only grew after our craftsman tour. We took so many pictures and had such a good experience that it deserves it’s own blog post. Stay tuned. Ciao for now. 

Out of Africa

We hopped on a bus with the leftovers of our Morocco team and headed to Essaouira. Fresh air, ocean breezes music, and crowds. Lots and lots of music and crowds. We arrived a little after lunch so we were left to our own devices till dinner. Since neither of us was feeling too great, we stayed in and bought a few groceries to get us through the day.

Elizabeth went to dinner with the group while I stayed back. I met up with everyone after dinner for a quick dessert. Later in the night we walked around Essaouira with one of the younger couples to get a lay of the land for visiting the markets the next day.

During our time in Essaouira we were mainly left to our own free time. The next morning we enjoyed the freedom and the laid back attitude of the area. We walked around the city, visited the beach and the fort (another GoT filming location) took a lot of photos, and could not agree on whether to buy any more art. 

For lunch our guide took us to a hole in the wall that served fresh grilled sardines. I was still not feeling great so Elizabeth was the only one that indulged in the treats. It was interesting to get a feel for how the locals eat the fresh fish. 

The highlight of the day was fighting through a crowds to get to some crepes. We happened to be in Essaouira during a local music festival – Gnaoua World Music Festival. The music festival brings in massive amounts of people. After dinner we decided to go a grab a couple of crepes as a dessert. Our timing was all off. We decided to leave right when the stage nearest our hotel was ending its set. (If you’ve ever been to music festival you know what happened next.) The next thing we know is every single person at the stage is leaving to head to the next stage. The only route there was in front of our hotel and into the same street we were heading down. Instead of waiting for the crowds to pass we carried on our merry way with crepes on the mind. While we were in the crush of people, I spotted the Tasmanian from our tour. He had left our dinner group to head to the only bar in town. We caught up with him and I laid my trap.

I sneaked right up next to him and pinched him on the rear and immediately hid behind the person next to me. Our Tasmanian looked around, confused and trying to figure out who was flirting with him or trying to steal his wallet. The mass of humanity was almost exclusively men, further causing him concern.

Never one to be satisfied with only a little turmoil, I went back to the well. I grabbed him again, and he swung around looking for a fight. He said a few things to the guy standing directly behind him who was shocked and worried about his future and probably his face.

The worried onlooker, pointed to me, telling the Tasmanian I was the attacker. I jumped in at this point to prevent anything from getting out of hand. I didn’t need a Moroccan’s blood on my hands. We all shared a good laugh at the expense of our Tasmanian friend.

Elizabeth and I had crepe to celebrate.

We ended the night back at the hotel with the group playing cards into the night. With the festival taking place outside our hotel, there was no way we were going to get any sleep.

We left Essaouira after lunch the next day and headed back to Marrakesh. We were ready for Italy and ready for no more tajines or couscous.

By this point, we were exhausted and tired of Morocco. Feeling a little homesick we indulged in the American way for dinner. One of our friends on the trip eats at McDonalds whenever she is in another country. We thought we might as well join the fun and get a little taste of home. 

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The entire country, it’s people, their ways, and much of what they do and how they do it and may always be foreign to us, but we realized that Morocco was a new and exciting place. It was  exciting way we did not particularly enjoy. It is frenetic in a way that does not lend itself to us little Alabamians successfully navigating the streets, medinas, and souks with confidence. Perhaps the confidence would come with further trips and experiences in similar cultures.

Those will be a long time coming.

Our last day in Morocco was filled with a trip to the mall, and a typical mall food court lunch. Elizabeth says that this Dominos pizza completely recharged her batteries.

By midnight that night we were in Italy

We Interrupt this Blog Post with a PSA

We saw a disturbing sight while in the mall. Without being long-winded, we witnessed a couple involved in a domestic issue in which a man verbally and physically assaulted a woman while sitting a a table not 20-30 feet from us.

Sadly, it isn’t the first time I have witnessed a man assault a woman. It happened while I was in college and I called the police, who showed up and made a big deal of it, with our group giving statements to the police.

As I was determined to get security, once I explained the situation, they were unmoved. I tried to stress the physically assaulting bit, but security stood resolute. They were not moving from their post. And I know they spoke English so they understood what I said.

I was not satisfied by their inaction so we left and I tried to find some police nearby, but there were none to be found.

Regrettably, that’s where the story ends.

Security stood idly by. I was livid by their careless attitude. But I was in a foreign land using a foreign language. I did as much as I felt I could do without getting over-involved.

So in closing, if you see something, say something. It never hurts to at least try

 

 

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