Eating And Traveling
If you chose a car based on the emblem on the crest of its hood, which would you choose? Pretend you knew nothing about the car, where it was made, how much it cost, the cultural significance of its brand. And simply choose your favorite based on what information you get from the symbol used to proclaim its name. (Please ignore my reflection in the shinier ones, couldn’t be helped.)
Someone told me, “Who goes to Italy and eats Chinese food?” I know it doesn’t make sense, but I had already eaten quite a lot of pasta, pizza and seafood, so I wanted to test out some immigrant delights. The best pizza I’ve ever eaten was in Germany. The best lasagna was in Korea. The best Thai was in Laos. The best steak was in Australia. The best sushi was…OK, that was in Japan, but the point remains, good food is everywhere, and I aim to search for it! Having said that, I had a tasty burger, average Indian food and a fabulously meaty pizza this past weekend.
I moved to this strange border city without a true identity in July. The World Cup was coming to an end, but our classes were just starting. I spent the past two months here studying during the week and people watching during the weekend. I met the winds of “Bora.” I saw the Italian Renaissance piazzas, the Austro-Hungarian facades upon majestic buildings, the ancient Roman ruins sitting beside cafes melting into the local scenery, the ceaseless energy of the Mediterranean Sea lapping the giant stones of the Barcola, the dogs walking their owners before dinner, the fancy dressed Triestinos, the teenage wannabe punks, babies in strollers, pizzas on every corner, Chinese working the cheap stores, Africans hawking random junk, Indians selling flowers, and there I was, among them all. It is my favorite part of traveling…after eating of course! So, here are a few samples of local life.
Oddly enough, I went with some Indian food for dinner. It was a nice place, full of Indian families with plates scattered about their tables and wonderfully decorated. I ordered samosas and curry chicken and it was all good.
Unbeknownst to me, but knowst to everyone else, the second Saturday in August is the busiest travel day in the country. Luckily, I was about to drive for about 500km. Everybody likes traffic right? Ugh, but first, I stopped in shortly after sunrise at the Siena Cathedral, a marvelous black and white marble achievement. With some bad Italian I managed to get a look inside without waiting in line for a ticket at the closed office.
The outside was intricate also.
They were getting the Piazza del Campo ready for the Palio di Siena. It’s the rugged biannual race of ten men around a tiny courtyard on hyped up horses run for bragging rights to the local neighborhoods.
I snapped a few more photos, then had to jet to my car for the long drive back to Trieste.
This is the view of early morning in Siena. The church looms large over the city.
I ate nothing but roadside food and espresso for the 9 hour trek back. I needed some quality for Sunday lunch and found Fratelli Da Bufala near the water at Piazza Ponte Rosso in Trieste. Meeting up with an old friend from high school and her husband made for a wonderful Sunday. I had a killer chicken salad, and pappardelle with meat ragu. Unfortunately, the sauce tasted less than homemade–more like poured from a jar.
After the mess of Day 4, I woke up in the morning hurting from too much wine and too much microwaved meat. I quickly got moving after an espresso. I was headed for Montalcino. One of the myriad mountain villages of Toscana. It was a lovely morning drive through the sun drenched expanse.
I finally came across the organized bricks posing as the town of Montalcino.
I found an empty restaurant Di Macchia (Via Soccorso Saloni). with a charming old man and was still a little sour stomached, so I needed something soothing and I got it. This is pici pasta with wild boar (cinghiale) ragu. It was great. I told the guy it was like a cow and a pig had melted together to make one delicious animal. I had a glass of the local specialty Brunello red wine, deep and full.
Walked back to the car slowly as I enjoyed the town and the views…
The next stop was the thermal pools. The Medici family used to frequent these places, and it seemed like a perfect way to feel even better. Plus, there was a smiling pup.
The bottom pool was rather cool, but when you climbed up the sticky, sulfur coated rocks, the waterfall had a pleasantly heated temperature. Free swimming in healing waters.
I stayed as long as I could allow, for there was more to see, such as the famous grapes of Toscana.
I didn’t dare pluck any off the vine as they were coated in a white dust, presumably not an organic compound of Tuscan dust and bee poop. It’s such a picturesque landscape…
I wanted to stay near my hostel tonight as it would be an early morning to go visit the Siena Cathedral, so I found a cute white tablecloth place full of locals Fontebecci (Via Fiorentina 133). I wanted to go big, and needed a steak. But first, the guy recommended a walnut cream sauce ravioli.
I was finally feeling better. My last day of the food tour ended well, and I was up at sunrise to go see the two toned Siena Cathedral.
Started the day off with a decent breakfast before heading to the beach. It was a quiet beach, with free chairs and umbrellas. The ocean was more of a pool, as a manmade rock barrier had been formed about 100m out to sea. The deepest water is only waist high.
A stonemason, running away from religious persecution, founded the smallest republic of the E.U. around 300 C.E. They were under constant threat from armies in the modern era, but with charming diplomacy, were granted the sovereignty of their small union of 24 sq. km. upon a mini-mountain overlooking the Adriatic Sea. I was driving down the winding roads from Ravenna and in the distance, many miles away, I could swear to see a castle on a hill, in the direction where San Marino should be. I was right, you can see this country from at least 100km away.
This was the castle I saw. I had to run up the steep stairs leading to the city entrance to make it for sunset.
I was proud of my quick hike and snapped a selfie.
The town was empty, until I got to the top. Tourists of all shapes, colors and camera lenses were lining up for the opportunity to get this background.
From the other side, you can see the winding streets and large houses of a very wealthy country.
If you look in the distance, that is the Adriatic. I remembered being on top of a mountain in Pyeoncheong, Korea (about 1,000m), brutally shivering in the Siberian winds, and seeing a similar sight of an ocean in the distance. It feels so magical to me to look out upon a land from great heights. Maybe that’s why people climb Mt. Everest. This is far from the highest peak in the world. It is only about 700m high, but rewardingly expansive.
These poor old-timey role players probably make the same smile all day. They were pleasant though. Cute country.
It’s no surprise that Bologna cooks it up big. CIBO (Also: Culinary Institute of Bologna) is Italian for food, and this is the best eating city in Italy. I found a little place off the main street called Trattoria Del Rosso (Via Augusto Righi 30). I was learning that to make it from noon to the eight or nine o’clock dinner time for Italians, I’d need to order a primo and secondo piatto. First up: Tagliatelle con ragu.
It’s the city of mosaics. It’s old, and like everywhere in Italy, has been ruled by many different hands: such as Etruscans, Byzantines, Frankish tribes, Lombardis, and Italians. It was touristy, but completely manageable. There’s not much to say as I stopped in late in the day after a long lunch in Bologna and basically ran through the main points of interest, jaw agape at the detail and colorful splendor before me. It’s best to check out the pics for yourself. But first, the marble columns, in the Basilica San Vitale…
…reminded me of a Rorshact test…
You can see there are four stones fitted together to form the natural swirls of the marble. Elsewhere in the church was only more religious tiles glued intricately together.
Next, is the Basilica di Sant’Apollinare Nuovo.
Finally, the tiny, and therefore approachable in size, Baptistry of Neon.
All of these were constructed around the time of Emperor Justinian I (527-565 C.E.) or earlier.
I stayed the night in the outskirts of Verona. One night at a random hotel in the city was 150 euro, so I drove past hookers standing on the roadside and made it to my little place, Hotel Gelmini. They had excellent wifi and served a real nice breakfast in the morning. Heading south now, I was surprised by the impressive entrance to Mantova.
E.A.T. 