At long last, I made it to Turin, former capital of Italy, home of the savoy dynasty. Turin is very ambiguously Euro. It is definitely beautiful--a river slices right through it, it has rolling hills and is surrounded by snow-capped mountains. But some buildings are so curvy and funky they look like they belong in Barcelona, and some palazzos are so big they look like Marie Antoinette. It is also home to some delectable chocolate stores.
The trip included a visit to the FIAT factory, a shopping trip to buy Supergas in said FIAT factory which seems to have been turned into a mall/hotel/art museum, a dining trip to Eataly which is Italy's superior answer to Whole Foods and much more. I also made it to the National Italian Film Museum which was amazing.
It is housed in an unusual building which was constructed to be a synagogue but for some reason was never consecrated and then was subsequently handed over to the state. The museum had all these shadow puppets and viewing rooms that look liked they belonged in the films they were screening. All in all, excellent.
Emma and I also made it to see the replication of the shroud, currently residing in a church in the main piazza which has faces for windows (the real shroud is going to be exhibited in a few months). We also went to this medieval village reconstruction, which was not as cheesy as I had hoped for, alas. And, more importantly we took a black magic/ white magic tour. We were introduced to the bus as "English friends." Well, close anyway.
my ipod is a blast from the past. ben kweller, that is how far back. and i notice this everyday on my long commute from milan to crema and back again, as i ride a bus that often winds through all the little villages and on occasion, when i am lucky, goes express.sometimes on the bus i talk to people or i read, or very rarely i doze off. most often, i just look out my window and listen to music. the land in lombardy is so, so flat and green. the trees are so dark and spine-y that the contrast between them and the land and the sky looks unreal, like a set of a play. in italian, the word for country, "paese," is also (and more commonly) the word for town, village. So my "paese" is Scarsdale. Towns are sources of identity, places of permanent residence, places that you stay. Five minutes outside the confines of Milan you already see farms, you see hens and chickens and roosters and cows and horses. it's beautiful, with the rolling lombard fog and the elephant gray sky and the electric grass.
I just got back from Spain and I must say, that is one fun country. The highlight of the trip was Park Güell, Gaudí's trippy park, filled with mosaic benches and tree-like columns and tunnels creeping in on you with places to stand in and take photographs. The park overlooks the city, and it was a beautiful, sunny, warm day. A cornetto (the euro version of Good Humour) capped off the trip. Speaking of delicious ice cream, today I got the most amazing gelato. The weather here is warm and sunny and clear, and I bundled up with a heavy coat and a scarf, I even brought my beret, just in case I got cold (nothing worse than being cold and eating a gelato, so much pleasure but so much pain). In any event, I got a medium cone (live large) with extra-dark chocolate sorbet and caramel-and-red-salt gelato. Monumental!One thing that I like about Malpensa, as much as I hate everything else, is that it has a terminal just for Easyjet flights. So you see a lot of young people and some older people and some families. I must say, it is (we're?) a jovial bunch (I flew Lufthansa back, living in the lap of luxury with stewartesses who actually come, complimentary soda and snacks, but a clientel that was more serious, the type of people who would spend 20euro extra on a 1.5 hr flight). And there is some excitment to seeing everyone gathering at security check, seeing what people are wearing and talking about, trying to figure out where they are going, and then ultimately seeing them at their terminals. Oh, they are going to Palermo, that makes sense. In my case, the Italians traveling to Spain were dressed very Spanish. It really did make sense why they were going.
Recently I took a trip with my mother to Parma (home of the cheese). It was a charming city, clearly quite prosperous, with delicious food (capelletti in brodo, however you spell it) and one of the most beautiful churches I have ever seen.
We then journeyed to Ferrara, a small city I went to with Smith some years ago. Ferrara is the famed city of bikes (but what else is new in Italy).
In any event, we celebrated Purim in the synagogue (apparently this is where all the characters in Italy seem to go) and walked around the castle. Alas, the Antonioni watercolour museum was close-ed, and we never made it to the big palace. But it is a wonderful city. It is small, but mighty, due in a large part to its imposing castle.
Traveling with my mom made me remember how amazing and beautiful and special Italy is. It is really the type of life you could get used to, though I try not to. When I am here, it feels like this is how everywhere should be.
A few weeks ago, I went back to Florence, that magical, enchanting city, light of my eyes. Being there is like being in a dream or being in love, you feel all dizzy in the stomach and amazed and curious, and you can't think quite clearly.Except for the Ben & Jerry's next to the Duomo (?!) not much has changed from my Junior year. Small changes have occurred, the sketchy bridge i used to walk across everyday is now more stable and less graffitied (but still sketchy) and my signora got some new plates. But, as she said, its been two years, vuole some changes. The same shops are there, Florentines continue to talk with that same charming-and-contageous but incomprehensibile accent. Everything remains in form. Coming from New York, the city that has its own type of minute, there is something comforting in Florence's consistency, in the fact that life goes on, that the city will remain as it is, with or without me. Though the city changed me in so many ways, Florence becomes even more almighty--even more an object of unrequited love--because it stays the same through it all.
