Reggio Emilia

We arrived in Reggio Emilia late in the afternoon? Reggio where? Although classified as a city, it’s more like a small town, in the heart of the Emilio-Romagna region of Italy. It’s famous for its cheese production – it is the centre for Parmigiano Reggiana. Hotel Posta is the former horse post from days of yore – in fact some parts of it date back to the 16^th century. The current owner is the 4^th generation of the family to own it - about which more later.

We were up with the lark to take a short bus ride to a local cheese factory. We were all on time, this time it was the bus driver who was late. He blamed traffic. There is no traffic. Anyway, we were soon all aboard and on our way to the factory. We’d missed the beginning, and were fully prepared to face the wrath of our guide (apparently last year when they were late, they were roundly scolded), but this time it was all smiles…either they’d sacked the previous guide, or they’d been on a Customer Service course since then.

We’d missed the milk delivery part of the tour, but joined in where they were heating up the milk then adding rennet to create curds and whey. Our guide, Anne, explained the cheese-making process, which is roughly similar to all other cheese-making processes. She was at pains to point out that what makes parmesan unique is the grass and other feed the cows eat, and that it only comes from this specific area. After draining and being put in moulds, at this stage a special band is placed around the cheese, imprinting it with Parmigiano Reggiano, the date, the factory and batch numbers. This only stays on for 24 hours and is sufficient to stay on the cheese for the rest of its life. It’s immersed in brine for 24 days, by which time the salt has penetrated 3 inches into the cheese. The rest of the salting process takes place by osmosis after the cheese is taken to the warehouse, where it matures for a minimum of 11 months, making a full year including all the other bits. Usually, however, it’s aged far longer than that.

Beaucoup de lait, pas de fromage...

Beaucoup de fromage, pas de lait

The smell when you walk into the warehouse is amazing, and Anne invited us to described the odour, including notes of citrus, pineapple, leather, and mould. Mould, of course, is the enemy here, and the cheeses are regularly brushed and turned on the shelves. They are also tested to ensure quality, and any that fail the “knock test” (with a special hammer to detect cracks/hollowness) are scored around the rind – effectively marking the cheese as being 2^nd grade. If it’s too bad, the scoring is particularly tight, crossing out the words entirely. If you see scoring on the rind of your parmesan, don’t buy it.

There's a lot of cheese!

We then went through to taste two cheeses, a 24-month “young” cheese, and a more mature 40-month. We compared the differences in texture, flavour, and saltiness.

Colour is not an indication of age

We returned to Reggio Emilia and Anne took us for a walking tour of the town, pointing out sites of interest. It doesn’t have the churches and architecture of the larger cities we’ve been to, but is more a model of a typical Italian city where the ordinary folk live.  After a light lunch at Macrame, we were left to our own devices for a couple of hours, before rejoining our bus to the Cavazzone farmhouse, there to find out about vinegar.

The big church

The theatre - Pavarotti gave his first performance here

 

Padua

We left our hotel almost on time. We’d arranged an early start to incorporate the time booked into the church in Padua, and nearly all of our group had actually got the message and complied. But there’s always one*…”Oh, I didn’t hear that”.

We left the beautiful, 5-star hotel Savoia Excelsior Palace Hotel for the last time, with many a tear in our eyes. The drive to Padua took around two hours, and we arrived to meet our guide, Michaela. Hold on, I know that name…yes, it’s the same guide we had in Venice. She took us around Padua, explaining its importance as a Roman city (the third largest in the empire). It’s also home to one of the oldest universities in the world, founded in 1222. We took a look around some of the oldest parts which are still extant – now home to the university’s administrators rather than students. It also has a very old café which never closes its doors – a very early 24/7. It also has an astronomical clock with an unusual feature – instead of the traditional 12 signs of the zodiac, it only has eleven – Scorpio occupies two sections (there’s no Libra). Legend has it that this is because the creator was never paid for his work, so decided to deliberately ruin it.

 

The old Justice building...now a market

Zoom in on Scorpio (3 o'clock)

We then made our rendezvous with the Scrovegni chapel. This was built by a wealthy banker in an attempt to improve his image. Bankers were held in low regard despite being wealthy – Dante put them in the seventh inner circle of hell with the usurers, so spending a lot of money on a chapel was a way to increase their standing. He employed the best sculptors and fresco painters of the day – some chap named Giotto did the paintings. This is what the chapel is now famous for; the rest of the palazzo has been demolished, and attempts made to remove the frescoes and sell them off were thwarted by the city council, who eventually raised the cash to buy what remained, and make it a public gallery. The system here is quite regimented: You turn up at your allotted time, watch a 15 minute video (in Italian with English subtitles), then spend 15 minutes in the chapel, as Michaela explained the significance of the frescoes, what they were depicting, and the influence on Western art. After 15 minutes you’re marched out so the next group can come in.

Heaven to the right, Hell to the left

We had a short lunch break, then found our way back on to the coach (guess what? Some of the group were late), for our onward journey to our final stay, the small town of Reggio Emilia. We’re staying here as it’s in the heart of cheese-, ham-, and vinegar-making country. So guess what? Tomorrow, we’re off to a cheese demonstration and tasting. Blessed are the cheesemakers!

 

* Not always the same one, but there's a small group of offenders

Trieste

Today is Trieste day. We were met by our local guide, Daniella, and went on a walk around Trieste in the spring sunshine. OK, spring overcast. Most of the locals were still in puffer jackets, scarves and boots, but I braved it in shorts and short sleeves…it was brisk, sure, but not winter.

We started off in the main square, which is full of main square-type buildings. Daniella explained the history of Trieste, how it became the second-biggest port in Europe when the Austro-Hungarian empire was at its height. Students of geography will note that Austria and Hungary aren’t famed for their coastlines – the Habsburg empire had very little coastline, so when Trieste (then part of Slovenia) came under their rule, they expanded the small village to a huge port city. After the end of WWI, it was decided that Trieste would become part of Italy, and started to decline – Italy already had ports! In fact, Italy is almost all coastline!

Square-type building

Another square-type building

We visited the site of a Roman theatre, which was excavated during Mussolini’s time – he was big on Roman stuff, and was keen to show that Trieste had always been part of Italy, not Slovenia. We also visited two Orthodox churches: one Greek, and the other Serbian, full of mosaics and other churchy stuff. We also crossed the Grand Canal – basically an extension of the port so that goods could be brought further inland. Much of it has now actually been paved over.

The Roman theatre

Greek Orthodox church

 

Serbian Orthodox church

We also stopped by a statue of James Joyce. He lived in Trieste before the outbreak of WW1 – indeed, he and his wife Nora had just started decorating their apartment with the intention to remain – when war broke out and he returned to Ireland. He’d already written the first chapter of Ulysses here, and if he’d remained, who knows? We might be calling the author Giacomo Joccio. He returned after the war, but then said he no longer liked it.

We had an hour’s break for lunch, so selected a restaurant right next to the hotel. The breeze was still a bit fresh so we asked if we could sit inside? “No”. No explanation, no apology, just “No”. Ah well. We ate pasta and drank local beer.

Local beer

At 1:30pm we reconvened, this time to explore the outer regions of the city by bus. Our first stop was at the top of a hill, where two churches had been amalgamated into one. They date back to the Middle Ages originally, and contain more mosaics borrowed from Constantinople, as well as relics of their saints – San Giusto and San Sergius. San Giusto may or may not be the person that St Just is named for, but no-one really knows.    

Basilica San Giusto

We drove on, and up, to a modern church situated at the top of a hill. Whilst the church had little to recommend it (60s brutalist concrete), the views from the top are the best in, and of, the city. On a clear day you can see Venice to the West, and Slovenia and Croatia to the south-west. We didn’t have a clear day but could still see a long way.

Trieste from above

Our final stop was the rose garden of the former lunatic asylum. Long since closed down, the garden is still maintained, with 5,000 different varieties of rose. But I’ve seen flowers before.

In the evening we had an early dinner at the hotel – finally! Some seafood!, then went to see Rossini’s La Cenerentola – Cinderella to you and me. Performed in a traditional setting, but very well done all the same, and jolly good fun. You know the story.

 

Ljubljana

Trieste is a port city in the very top right corner of Italy; the border with Slovenia is only around 10km away. We boarded our bus after breakfast – not without drama, as one of our assembly had failed to heed their alarm clock – and set out about half an hour late. This had a knock-on effect throughout the day. The drive to the capital, Ljubljana, took about an hour, ascending into alpine country with snow on the mountains alongside us.

Alps from the road

Our guide, Carmen, met us and took us on a walking tour of the city, giving us history and facts a-plenty. She referred to Trieste as Trst, and told us it shouldn’t really be part of Italy at all – it’s inclusion or exclusion has been contested over the years, much like the Debatable Lands in England. Modern Slovenia was formed when Yugoslavia broke up in the early nineties following the collapse of Communist rule in the Eastern bloc – very much to the relief of the Slovenians, as the country was the powerhouse of the former Yugoslavia, providing 25% of the GDP despite comprising less than 10% of the population. Independence and membership of the EU has been a boon to the country – evidenced not least by the road by which we approached Ljubljana, which looked suspiciously EU-financed.

 

The big church

The big shop

View from a bridge

We learnt about the bridges of Ljubljana, saw the university library, and various churches. We then went for a typical Slovenian lunch of fried polenta, goulash in a bread bowl, and a kind of apple strudel cake. All very Mitteleuropean. The goulash could have benefited from some actual spiciness.

We made our way back to the bus, and found that we were one short. Bonnie and Kelly set out on a search, and found that one of our party had had an accident. Dealing with that took another half hour, so we took off for Lake Bled somewhat behind schedule.

Lake Bled is what you get when you ask an AI to create a picturesque scene in the Balkans. It has a castle on a bluff. It has an island, with a church on it – the only island in Slovenia (there are none on its 46km of coastline). The backdrop is snow-covered Alps. It also has the summer residence of former president of Yugoslavia, Marshal Tito, now – surprise surprise! – a boutique hotel. We took a traditional oar-powered boat to the island, then climbed 99 steps up to the church at the top. View from the top were spectacular. We walked around the island, admired the view, then took the boat back again.

 

Castle on a cliff

Church, being picturesque

Church on an island

Back on the shore, we then went to Park Café, known as the original inventor of the kremsnita, or Bled cream cake. This is, effectively, a custard slice. With cream on top. We consumed those, with coffee, then left Bled and drove back to Trieste. Despite being enjoined to bring our passports, we weren’t stopped either leaving or entering Italy, and finally made it back around 8pm, somewhat later than advertised.  

Kremsnita

In the evening we were left to our own devices. What do cool young things (by which I mean, us) do of a Friday night in an Italian city? Restaurant, party, clubs? Laundry. We did laundry.

 

Vicenza

We set out early in order to take a water taxi across the lagoon, there to meet our bus, which took us to the town of Vicenza. Today is Italy’s National Liberation Day, so not everything was open. They were setting up for what appeared to be the main event this evening in the square.

 We met our guide, Roberta, who took us to the Teatro Olympico. This is the world’s oldest indoor theatre of the modern era. It was built in the old prison inside the castle walls. The castle had become redundant in the age of gunpowder, and the Olympic Academy of Vicenza commissioned Andrea Palladio to build a theatre inside, initially for a production of Oedipus Rex. Palladio is Vicenza’s local hero, a stonemason who studied the ancient Greek and Roman architecture, then starting building things in the classical style. Indeed, his name comes from the Greek goddess, Pallas Athene (originally he was just Andrea, son of Pietro). His work and that of his followers influenced everything from the White House to Woburn Abbey, Chiswick House in London, and even (former) Government House in Kolkata.

 

Inside, Roberta explained about the production of Oedipus and the false perspective of the stage. We watched a son et lumière production, which doesn’t really come out on camera. We then visited a house which she informed us was definitely not Palladio’s, before ending at the Palazzo Chiericati, where we also learned about golden ratios and the like. There were some murals on the ceilings too.

After a lunch of Roma Pinsa (pizza to you and me) we reboarded our bus for the drive to Trieste, This took about 2½ hours, and we arrived at Savoia Excelsior Palace Hotel around 5pm. If you think that the name sounds grand, that’s because it is: on the waterfront, it is a hotel in the grand old style of the European Grand Tour. Tonight we will be dining in-house – hopefully a bit better than some of the in-hotel offerings we’ve had so far.

 

Vivaldi

Our final full day in Venice is a free day. Unfortunately, the weather is still custard, so we didn’t venture out much to explore the city. We took a quick look at the Rialto Bridge in the morning, then headed back to the Doge’s Palace, this time to go around the Marco Polo exhibition. Marco Polo is one of Venice’s most famous sons, and the exhibition showed his life, journeys, artefacts from his trips (or “souvenirs”, as we call them), and was generally informative. Unfortunately no photography is allowed inside the exhibition. 

Rialto Bridge in the rain

Still raining, we found Ristorante Piccolo Martini, who were able to furnish us with a lunch of spaghetti and pizza.

At five o'clock we assembled for a short walk to the Grand Canal, from where we took gondola rides in groups of five. It had stopped raining by this stage, so it was quite pleasant. We just did a short round-the-block trip, without any singing...I guess you have to pay extra for that.

In the evening we had a dinner of traditional Italian snacks – hors d’oeuvres if you will – crostini, deep-fried olive balls, various pastries, schmoked schalmon schandwichesch* (v. traditional!) and the like.  

We then went along the road to see a Vivaldi concert. Antonio Vivaldi is another famous son of Venice, born here in 1678. As such, there’s a lot of Vivaldi going on at any one time, and it turns out tonight that there are in fact two events. We walked to the wrong one. Hugely apologetic, Bonnie turned us all around and took us to the correct venue, with actually plenty of time to spare, as we’d set out knowing the walking pace of our group and had ample time built in. This didn’t stop one of our group getting lost on the way, so, with five minutes to spare, we took our seats whilst Bonnie combed the streets of Venice for her. Fortunately she was found and took her seat after the first couple of numbers.

The first act was various bits of Vivaldi, and Pachelbel mixed in as well; the second half was The Four Seasons. All the players were dressed in period costume, which can’t have been easy, but I guess they do this all the time.

It started to rain as we walked home, so we picked up the pace and made it without getting too wet. This is our last night in Venice, we’re on the road again tomorrow!

 

* Said in a Sean Connery voice

Murano/Burano

Today’s adventure takes us to two of Venice’s outlying islands, one of which I’ve heard of, and one of which I ain’t. Murano is world famous for its glass. Burano is less world famous for its lace. The islands of Curano, Durano, Furano etc. all sank during the Great Island Plague of 1844.

It was raining as we breakfasted, but appeared to slacken off as we made the short walk to the jetty on the Grand Canal. Indeed, it started to brighten up. We boarded our transport – larger than the water taxis we arrived in, and were all able to get on the one boat – and headed across the lagoon to Murano.

Murano is known for its glass, and our first stop was at a glass-making factory. We watched the artists at work, including the new apprentice, whilst our guide explained the history, the processes, and how the art is now in decline – they have only eight glass blowers now. We then went into the shop for the sales pitch, as he explained all about the properties and uniqueness of each piece, and that we get 40% off for buying in the shop now. This included gold- and platinum-plated glass sets, and also glasses that are self-righting if you knock them over…a bit like Weebles. Nicola found a turtle that she liked and after some negotiation we got it for a reasonable price.

Artist at work. Note the shirt

We walked around the rest of the island, finding loads of shops which all sell glass in all its different forms, but making no further purchases. The weather remained inclement so by the time we were ready to embark we boarded quickly, and set out to stop two.

Burano is the poor relation of Murano. We stopped for lunch first, where we had risotto followed by mixed grilled fish (sole, monkfish, sea bass and prawn), accompanied by – yes! – salad! Washed down with a Venetian white wine. Afterwards we went walking around the town, which is notable for its brightly-painted houses. The reason and origins of this custom aren’t clear, but one thing is: if it wasn’t for this fact, the place would be a dump. 

There was a fashion shoot going on when we were there

We left Burano, and motored back to the Grand Canal. Our mooring was at the far end so we had a bit of a walk to get back to the hotel, during which we managed to get lost. Our map helpfully doesn’t have street names, only the names of the largest landmarks and squares. We eventually found our way, but only had a little bit of time before we were back out to Teatro La Fenice for tonight’s opera.

Mefistofele is Arrigo Boito’s only completed opera. Who he? Well, amongst other things, he was librettist to Verdi, who’s, like, famous as. He wrote the words to Otello and Falstaff. 

Mefistofele tells the story of Faust, but from the viewpoint of the devil who had a bet with God (ain’t he a charmer?), that he could tempt Faust to sell his soul. It appeared that Mefistofele wasn’t ready to appear on stage, as the first thing he did was take his clothes off and have a shower, whilst the orchestra played the prologue. That’s opera for you! The later stages were also prepared and choreographed very well, particularly the witches sabbath. There appeared to be a cast of thousands – indeed, when it came to the curtain call, I’m sure the cast outnumbered the audience, as there were various choruses of children, angels, witches, and, er, other unspecified folk; a ballet troupe; and all the main characters.

It was all jolly entertaining, and the cast kept coming back for more curtain calls. This, it transpired, was because it was in fact the last performance.

Venice

Our hotel in Venice is the Saturnia & International. Quite why it has that & is not explained. From talking to some of the other guests, it seems it is partway through modernising – we have card access to our room, but some are wielding enormous keys, and some don’t have USB ports. On the other hand, they have a view. Our view is of the building next to us’ wall.

After breakfast, we went for a guided walk around Venice with Michaela. The weather forecast wasn’t too flash, so we dressed appropriately. We went first to the Piazzetta Di San Marco, then into the Doge's Palace, which contains various audience, senatorial and consiglieri chambers; all covered in more art than you can shake a stick at, by names that you’ve heard before – Tintoretto, Canaletto, and various others who sound like types of pasta. Michaela also told us about the “lion mouths” – post boxes where you could write letters denouncing your neighbours for such sins as not paying taxes, or treason. We also saw the Grande Sale, or Big Room to you and me, where the entire council made up of all nobles over the age of 25 would meet. It is, indeed, a big room – the biggest in the world at the time it was built. There were various clocks around the place - including a 24-hour clock which demonstrates that our understanding of "clockwise" is in fact a fairly modern convention. We then passed over the Bridge of Sighs on the way to the dungeons, before returning over the Bridge of Sighs (of relief!) to return to the main square, Piazza Di San Marco.

Art by Tintoretto

An anti-clockwise 24-hour clock

 

I'm all a-quiver

The big pointy thing

At this point we broke for lunch. We found a café just off the main square for some nourishment, then reconvened to tour St. Mark’s Basilica, which contains many wonders, some of which had been “borrowed” from Constantinople during the 4^th Crusade. Much of it was legitimately made, though, and there are a lot of mosaics. We went up to the museum on the upper level to admire more mosaics, and also the four Horses of Saint Mark, originally made as early as 5^th century BC, but no-one’s really sure. Again, taken from Constantinople, and displayed on the loggia of the Basilica for many years, but now housed indoors for conservation purposes. The four horses which are now outside are replicas.

 

We met up with some of our group in the now-rainy square, and made our way back towards the hotel. We stopped along the way for a guided tour of Teatro Le Fenice, the opera house where we will see Mefistofele tomorrow. Our guide, Christina, told us all about the history of the opera house, including how and why it burned down so many times (the most recent being an attempted scam by electricians trying to avoid penalty clauses in their contracts for finishing their work late), and how the décor of the theatre was decided and executed. This includes a chandelier, originally a gift from the British royal family and made in Liverpool; sadly lost in the fire of 1996, and now replicated locally. We had a look in some of the boxes which don’t have as good a view as the stalls, apart from those at the back; and also at the ballroom on the 3^rd floor.

That concluded our tour and we returned to the hotel for a well-earned rest. Tonight we were due to go on a gondola ride but, given the weather, this has been postponed for a couple of days in the hope that meteorological conditions improve.

We will be dining in the restaurant tonight in a private room, and again listening to the vocal stylings of Bonnie and Kelly.

Verdi

We left Genova for Venice, our home for the next four nights. This involves crossing from west to east across the top of Italy, and as we were driving we had views of the snow-topped mountains to the north.

We stopped off on the way at Le Roncole, birthplace of Giuseppe Verdi. We saw his family’s home, where his father was the village drug dealer innkeeper, and licensed alcohol and tobacco seller. At age 10 he went to school in Busseto, the nearest town,  arranged by his patron Antonio Barezzi who’d heard him playing the organ at his local church (a paid job he’d had since he was eight) and, recognising his talent, sponsored his schooling. Barezzi later became Verdi’s father-in-law, when Verdi married his daughter. Le Roncole is also home to Giovannino Guareschi, author of Don Camillo.

 

The Verdi house

We then drove the short distance to Busetti itself, toured the opera house there then had lunch at an osteria that served food in the traditional way – no cutlery, no glasses for wine. We drank the local wine out of cups, and ate salumi, bread and cheese with our hands. It was a very meat-heavy meal – even the cheese selection was minuscule.

The Verdi opera house

After lunch, we went to the only part of Barezzi’s home which is still preserved – as a performance hall. There were heard a trio – harp, flute and double bass – accompany a soprano in a number of arias from Italian operas, with Bonnie joining in at one stage to accompany O Sole Mio.

The final leg of our journey brought us to Venice. One approaches the beautiful, historic canal city of Venice through what can be best described as an industrial wasteland, culminating in a water taxi from the equally industrial docks. We wound our way through the narrow canals to our hotel – taking a back way in which involved negotiating passage past some gondolas where there was squeaking room only. This was to deliver us to the water-level luggage entrance of the hotel, so we didn’t have to lug our luggage through the streets, but were met by burly porters who did all the heavy lifting.

Night was falling by the time we were ensconced in our room so instead of going out into the gloaming to explore, we decided to dine informally in the hotel’s bar. Several of our fellow guests had clearly arrived at the same decision so we joined them for dinner.

 

Aquarium

Genova is a city with a long maritime tradition. It makes sense that it has a substantial water zoo – at the time it opened, it was the second-largest in the world, but has since been overtaken by various Chinese and Middle Eastern projects, including one in a shopping mall in Dubai.

After breakfast, we took a bus down towards the port, and the aquarium. It’s only a 10 minute walk away, but the bus had been laid on. At the aquarium we were issued with a ticket and told to be back at the entrance by 12 noon, and were then left to our own devices.

 

When you swim in the sea and an eel bites your knee that's...

We walked around, saw manatees, seals, sharks and dolphins in the bigger tanks and pools, and also all the usual suspects in smaller tanks. There was also a reptile and amphibian section, mainly pythons, tortoises and frogs.

A manatee

Piranhas

Crap penguin photography

Danger noodle

At noon we met up with the rest of the gang and went for lunch – a typical Ligurian lunch at I Tre Merli. It contained no seafood so I’d argue it wasn’t that typical, being ravioli in cream sauce followed by tacchina – salted turkey – with the inevitable roasted potatoes. Washed down with the house red it was acceptable enough. At this point we were grateful for the bus, as our hotel is uphill from the port, so a short ride up was in order.

In the afternoon, after a brief sojourn for laundry, we went shopping in the local area.

In the evening we dined at the hotel in a private room, with performances from our hosts, Kelly and Bonnie. Both are accomplished singers and performers, and they gave us renditions of show tunes between courses.