Perugia

So we drove into Perugia -- another exciting adventure in Italian driving. Although we really needed a station wagon to haul bikes and stuff for 3 people, I am really beginning to regret the size of the beast we have. Some of the arches we have to pass thru are scarcely wider than the car, and some of the turns, including into the parking at our VRBO, simply cannot be done in one go. We keep getting ourselves into places we really don't want to be, even if the GPS thinks we do. When we find the public parking lot, we are so relieved we don't care what it will cost to get the car back out of hock when we are done being tourists (8.50 Euro, as it turns out).
From the corner of the parking lot, two escalators in succession take a lot of the pain out of the hilliness of this hill town. Still, there are more steps before we reach a real street. What strikes us first is how structures are piled upon structures to such an extent it is pretty much impossible to discern what the underlying terrain might look like. This city was first settled by the Etruscans in the third or fourth century BCE and has been inhabited ever since. It may be that only the ancient Etruscans know what lies below. It sure makes for photogenic (but hard to photograph) alleys, streetscapes, piazzas, and overlooks. We made our way to the Piazza IV Novembre (what is it with all these dates?) where the cathedral and the Palazzo dei Priori are separated by a bizarre medieval fountain. As it was getting late, we declined to spend almost 20 Euro to go in the museum for only an hour or so, but it looks like a place to go back to. The cathedral has what is supposed to be Mary's wedding ring, although one sign seems to say this is a replacement after it was removed by someone who had the upper hand for a while. And even if it were the original, Mary would have had to have been about 10 feet tall and 500 pounds to wear anything that large. Under the eaves of the cathedral a very talented chorus of singers in ordinary street clothes started singing while we were in a nearby coffeeshop. We came out to hear the end of their concert and were quite impressed. I would love to know the words of the folk tune they sang as the middle of the three songs we heard. David recorded all three with his iThing, but they're a bit muffled.
We wandered around a bit looking for the Perugina chocolate shop, and when we found it, we were sorely disappointed. It was full of schlock at high prices, so while David and Nina picked out a few candies, I wandered outside and sat on the steps of the Palazzo. This afforded me a very nice view of a nun eating gelato with friends. She caught me photographing her and gave me a big smile. We stopped in a coop grocery store for supplies, then navigated back to the car with the GPS. We've found it very helpful to set a waypoint at the car before leaving it, else we'd still be wandering around looking for it in various cities we've been to.
We returned home and created a wonderful dinner of strozzapreti (strangled priest) pasta with pesto, supplemented by sauteed eggplant and onion for those of us who eat such stuff. Nina is really more of a carbohydrian than a vegetarian; pretty much all the standard vegetables available in an Italian market (eggplant, zucchini, tomatoes, radicchio) are on her no-go list.

GPS, Google maps, and VRBOs

Another bizarro day of driving in the Italian countryside. We decided we did not want to whiz along the autostradas directly to Perugia, but rather take a more scenic route. We asked Google maps to avoid tolls and highways and got what looked like a reasonable route, but had 4 pages of directions (this should have been a warning). One thing about Google maps is that the printed directions assume you can keep perfect track of how far you have come from the last turn. They don't tell you anything useful like what town you might be in when the next turn is coming up. So, we ended up joining the weekend traffic jam out of town toward the Adriatic, then headed through Faenze (home of faeance (sp?) pottery) and eventually out into the countryside and up the Appennines. Gnarly curvy roads with plenty of cyclists, but very slow going, then back down more hairpins into the next valley, then up another steep climb. By this point, we felt pretty sure this was an insane way to go. So we switched to the GPS, which plotted a fairly reasonable course alongside the autostrada on a subsidiary road. Near the end, we had misgivings because it was sending us down some pretty minor roads, but sure enough, we ended up at Casale i Perugini, our next VRBO (vacation rental by owner).
Now, VRBO's are a bit of a crapshoot, although you can look at photos, read reviews, and ask the owners questions before you commit. The VRBO in Bologna was tiny, without parking, but very compact and generously stocked with staples. Casale i Perugini is about 15 km outside of Perugia (we knew that going in) in an old country house that the owner's grandfather bought in about 1955 and restored. Our apartment is nearly as big as our house back home. Certainly, the dining room is larger than ours, possibly larger than our living room. Two bedrooms (one has 3 single beds), enormous foyer (where we can put the bikes), kitchen, and very large balcony complete the suite. There is a dishwasher, but no soap (in either kitchen or bath), and no staples at all. And the hot water is either cold or scalding hot with pressure varying wildily. Free parking in the farmyard area across the road. The owner gave us a hand-drawn (xeroxed) map of where the nearest markets, bus stops, pizzerias, etc are, but it is so far out of scale, that when we decided to walk to the market we soon found ourselves walking at least 2 km along a rather busy road, and then back in the gathering dusk. Next time, we'll drive.
Yesterday morning, the plan was for David and me to take a ride before Nina woke up, perhaps ending around 2 or 3:00. But of course, having had to pack the bikes into the car, we had to find everything and untangle David's chain, which had gotten itself into an impossible place when he folded the bike. Plus, we had to figure out not only the route (around Lake Trasimeno), but also how to get there to start it. At first, we thought we'd ride, but then it was getting so late, we decided to drive. Google maps and the GPS had two very different ideas about how to approach this task, and we decided to see what the GPS had to offer. Ho boy, had we followed that on a bike, we'd still be riding TO the lake, and would never have done today's ride. It took us up yet another steep switch-backy route (with cyclists, tho), and down again into a town with very narrow streets. Since we had navigated to that town, rather than the next one, we were now without guidance, and ended up driving in a few circles and through some mighty tight turns for our too big car (Opel station wagon) before we found the town where our ride was to start. We continued along the route until we found a reasonable place to park, and then I marked a waypoint, so we could find our way back.
The ride around the lake was nice, once we found our way to it. Although this is a fairly major tourist destination, at least for Italians, the roads were sparsely traveled, and we saw many farm houses in various states of decay, including one near Castiglione del Lago that we decided was our next fixer-upper project. I'm sure it would be a nightmare, but it was so romantic. The roof looked okay and the walls were pretty much intact, but it appeared to be totally abandoned. Off in the distance was one of those ubiquitous farm buildings that appear almost organic as parts of them seem to be melting back into the soil, while others seem to be in everyday use. The lake itself is only about 36 miles around by the road, with a remarkable amount of farmland abutting the lake itself. Towns are scattered at intervals along the lake, but they're not very large. Castiglione del Lago has a 13th century castle high up on a hill, surrounded by walls. Just inside the old walled part, there is a nice pedestrian area with plenty of shops (many open even on a Sunday) selling local specialities. We got some great pastries (savory as well as sweet) in a pasticceria/paneteria, evaded the woman trying to give us samples of salumi, and ogled the olive-wood cutting boards, cheese grater trays, etc. Back on the bikes, we passed through Passignano, where Mike Eaton and I started our Umbria Tour in 1996 (http://www.grizzlypeakcyclists.org/trips/Italy9610.html) and we even found the car again. This time, we allowed the GPS to use highways, and we got back to the house in no time.
Dinner at a so-so pizzeria/restaurant followed a rather nice aperitif with our fellow guests at Casale i Perugini. The rest of the guests are Austrian and German, so I got to practice my German (much, MUCH better than my Italian). Dinner was eminently forgettable. After dinner, David and I plotted out a route up above Capocavallo that looked promising, with no strade bianche (unpaved roads) according to Google maps.
This morning, we headed off for the ride, climbed up to Alta Capocavallo, and came to the intersection with the road to the cemetary, where Via Vasco de Gama was supposed to head off the hill. We found a paved road toward Alta Capocavallo, the unpaved road that dead-ended in 100 m or so at the cemetary, and an unpaved road up the hill. We tried the paved road, but that also led to a dead end. We asked a driver who happened by, and he said go back to the cemetary and go uphill. We talked to another driver who came down the unpaved road and asked how far it was unpaved. Up to the friars, he said (I think). Hmmm. Well, we'll give it a go. We had to walk a fair bit of the road because it was in terrible shape and quite steep. Then we came to a more level bit, but still unpaved. It seemed to be going in the right direction, although the GPS had long since given up showing us any road at all. Then a paved road appeared on the GPS, although it, too, was unpaved. Finally, we came to an intersection with a paved road and found that we were exactly on route. So much for Google maps and GPS. At any rate, it was pretty much downhill from there, and soon we found ourselves back at the apartment, having gone a mere 11.6 miles. But at least it leaves us plenty of time to explore Perugia.

Bologna

For the past 5 days, we've been attending language school in the heart of old Bologna. What an incredible city! There are miles and miles of covered walkways or porticos, generally along the front of shops, such that one could walk almost anywhere within the old city or the near surround without getting wet during a rainstorm, or without baking in the noonday sun. One of the best, and the longest, is the 4 km continuous portico built to connect the Chiesa de San Luca (church of St. Luke), symbol of the city, way up on a hill, to the basilica downtown. Each year during feragosto (remember, that's the feast of the Assumption that we ran into in Rome), a medieval icon of the Madonna and child (a very adult looking child), which is normally behind a gold screen in the church, with a just two cut-outs for the faces of the Madonna and child, is carried from the church to the basilica. The arcade, with 666 (!) arches was built to protect the icon from the elements during its transit. We walked the last 3 km of it from our apartment to the church. The stations of the cross are represented in either carved or painted tableaus at regular intervals along the arcade, and occasionally, a driveway crosses the walkway to connect a villa to the road that runs along the arcade. The church is incredibly ornate and full of people praying to the icon, going to confession, etc. We felt a bit like intruders.
Language school was a mixed bag. They make a big deal about having everyone (including those who, like David and Nina, have essentially no prior experience in Italian) take a written test in advance and then there is a short oral interview to determine your level of ability to communicate. From these they determine the classes for grammar and conversation to place you in. I would have told them to put David in Nina in the lowest, beginner level and me one level up. Instead they put Nina in the lowest, David in the second lowest, and me yet one higher. David and I were both pretty much at sea in our grammar classes. They allowed David to demote himself after the first day, but discouraged me from doing likewise. Then, when I asked in the middle of the second day for some extra help (which their blurb says they offer) to catch up on the holes in what I should have known before starting my class, they decided I should instead go down a class for grammar, but not for conversation. The grammar was much easier, although perhaps a little too easy, and the conversation continued to be very difficult because I lack the vocabulary necessary for it. Oh well, we all learned a lot, and at least I will continue studying on my own or with a teacher when I get back.
Today, since we don't have school tomorrow and thus don't have do homework before anything else, David and I went for our first and only bike ride while in Bologna. Although where we are is very urban, Google maps shows that some of the side streets very nearby, where we have seen cyclists disappearing for the last few days, lead quickly into the countryside and up into the hills. We mapped out a course, strapped on the GPS, and headed out. After a short steepish climb, we were pretty much following along a ridge with only moderate rolling, looking down on one side into built-up Bologna, and on the other at farmland. A steep down, another steep up, and we had a lovely descent back into the city. We tried to avoid the main road that we've been riding over on the bus thru the old part of the city, but one-way streets forced us onto it. Since most traffic is not allowed in that part of the city (locals and busses only), it wasn't too bad. One last gelato -- at the place David's been eyeing for days (he calls it the Gellateria of Our Lady in White) -- and back home. Dinner at the Trattoria Belle Arti - OMG!!!! the tortelloni with butter and sage and the melanazane (eggplant) stufa were fantastic. For sure, it was a net positive caloric day. And so, to bed. Tomorrow, we head to Perugia.

Adventures in Italian driving

After another lovely relaxing day in Geneva, including a short bike ride in the countryside, we picked Nina up at the airport on Sunday morning, got our car, and headed back to Italy. This involved heading around the west side of the lake into France, then through the Mont Blanc tunnel. After the disastrous fire in 1999, the traffic regulations are extremely strict. There is a minimum and maximum speed limit of 50 and 70 kph, respectively, and a required distance between cars of 150 meters. They even have blue lights every 75 m and signs telling you the car ahead should be two lights distant. Video cameras monitor compliance closely. A somewhat wearying experience to drive through it, since it's 11.6 km long!
It was a day of high tolls (a total of about 90 Euros) and crazy navigation. We decided at one point to leave the toll road and forage for food in a town called Ivrea. NOT a good idea. First, it was Sunday, so nothing was open. Second, we hit a one-way section of road that precluded returning the way we came. Third, we saw what appeared to be a lot of people eating right next to a parking lot, except it turned out they were eating IN the parking lot, which was closed for some kind of festivity. So there we were, in the middle of a crowded parking lot needing to get back out. That managed, we continued on up a hill through increasingly narrow streets until we found ourselves teeing into a street entirely filled with a market. Reversing up the way we came with my bike hanging off the back of the car didn't seem such a good idea. However, we did spot two policemen approaching on foot, so we asked them what to do. They wanted to know where we wanted to go, and I said someplace else! They helped me make a 3-point turn without taking out any market stalls, and we made our way back to the autostrada. Then we ate at a highway rest stop where we should have eaten in the first place! As I always say, you can't get a bad meal in Italy, not even in a highway rest stop.
We continued uneventfully on our way, following our pre-printed instructions from Google maps. However, when we reached Bologna and followed the ring road as directed, the exit did not say anything similar to what Google maps called it. David actually guessed correctly that the target-like symbol next to the word Bologna indicated Bologna Centro (city center), but I doubted and we missed our exit. There wasn't another for miles! Finally we found a place to exit -- onto another freeway, and then exited again near the airport. At this point, we had no idea where on the map we were or, worse yet, where on the map our apartment was. We called the landlady, but her directions (in French-accented English regarding Italian street names) were pretty much incomprehensible.
Fortunately, we had borrowed a GPS from Ben mostly for bike riding, but also for situations exactly like this. Once we figured out which of three choices presented for Bologna (Bologna, BO, Bologna, AT, or Bolgona, LC) we wanted, we were able to find our address and follow the directions. Except for having left the GPS on the "bicycle" setting, which caused it to try to send us the wrong way down a one-way street, we were set. The landlady met us at the gate and helped us unpack the car, then showed me where on this tiny narrow street I could turn around, and where to park. We found a spot very close by, where we have left the car for the duration of our stay in Bologna. No WAY am I driving around this city. For one thing, you can't park or even drive anywhere inside the old city, and for another, I'd never find another parking space.
Our landlady very thoughtfully stocked the refrigerator with homemade yoghurt, milk, bread, juice, some cheese (mozzarella and fontina), and bottled water. She even baked us a typical Bolognese pastry, and showed us how to make espresso in the morning. I don't expect such service at the next two apartments! She gave us directions to take the bus to our language school and two choices for dinner. Tonight we go to the second one.

We're having fun

Bassano, Padova, Milano, Geneva

We had arranged for Matteo to pick us up at the Locanda after an early breakfast so we could catch our 8:09 train to Padova, with a final destination of Geneva, where my sister Naomi lives with her Swiss husband Vincent. Matteo had a system for avoiding the stairs down into and back out of the underpass to get to our track -- he opened a gate marked with dire warnings about the consequences of crossing the tracks, and crossed over to the platform with my bike. We followed with the rest of the luggage, and off he went. We were not arrested.
At Padova we had about half an hour's wait for our train to Milan. When an old lady and her family seemed to be struggling with getting onto our car, we went to the other end, only to discover that the other door did not work. So we got on the next car and fought our way back through two pairs of doors into our car -- where we discovered that our seats were at the far end. And the air conditioning did not work. After dragging our bike cases and suitcases thru the aisles, we collapsed into our seats. And sweated. The conductor told us we could go into the adjoining car, which we finally did, abandoning our luggage to the first takers. The next car was a refrigerator by contrast, but a welcome change. When we had to return to our car to retrieve our luggage before disembarking in Milan, it was like walking into an oven.
In Milan, we had an hour's layover, so we headed for a little restaurant for lunch. After ordering, David headed off to find our track, which was somewhat offset from the rest. Our train was already there, but there seemed to be no hurry to board. After a pretty good slice of pizza (David) and pannini (me), we hoisted my bike case onto my back again, and schlepped around the corner to our train. Our car was the farthest away (naturally), and our seats at the far end of that. It was pretty easy to find room in the luggage section for my bike case, and we hoped we could get David's between two seats that were back to back. Although it probably would have fit, the aisle was too narrow to get it turned at right angles to slide it in. Another passenger helped him lift it into the overhead rack, where it amazingly fit. Unfortunately, we were on the sunny side of the car, and although the air conditioning seemed to work, it wasn't set very low, so we were pretty warm. In addition, the bathrooms were disgusting. In both our and the neighboring cars, the sinks were so full of water that wouldn't drain that a tusnami threatened with each sway of the train.
We were very happy to find Naomi on the platform. And all the luggage fit easily into her VW station wagon, so things were looking up. She and Vincent are currently at their country house only about 15 minutes out of Geneva in a little village called Aire-la-Ville. The house was built in about 1750 and stayed in the same family until they bought it. The woman who sold it to them had turned up with her daughter just as Naomi was leaving for the station, so they were still there when we got back. Naomi filled them in on their remodeling plans, which they seemed not to be bothered by, although they had to leave so soon after we got back that she really couldn't give them much detail. By the time we get back in September, construction will have begun, so it's great to get to see it in the "before" state. Unfortunately, the wonderful quilt-like concrete tile floor in the living room cannot be saved and still put in floor heating. One interesting thing about the village is that they have a trash incineration plant that will soon provide heat for all of the houses in the village. That and a landfill are so discreetly hidden by a clump of trees that you'd scarcely know they were there. Dinner outside under the huge chestnut tree was capped off by an herisson (hedgehog) running across the lawn. We all ran over, and he rolled himself into a ball, which allowed Vincent and David to actually touch him. Before I could, he scampered off into a clump of bushes, and we never saw him again.
The next morning, we headed into Geneva to their apartment, where we could do laundry, access the internet, and copy and fax our Italian language pre-tests to the language school in Bologna where David, Nina, and I will be taking classes next week. Mostly, the latter was a farce, as neither of us (or Nina, for that matter) speaks any Italian. I could take a stab at several of the questions, although I certainly can't transform any sentences from the active to passive, or present to future, or any other such tricks. I'm sure whoever reviews my test will have a good laugh. Still it might give them an idea of whether I should start at the lowest or next-to-lowest level.
The apartment is full of really wonderful art, and some great furniture, including a clever table in the kitchen with chairs that slide right under the lip of the table to allow easy passage by the table when not in use. We went to the farmer's market a few blocks away and to a patisserie before eating a nice nicoise salad prepared by David and a tomato, mozzarella, and mango (!) salad make by Naomi back at the flat. Oh yes, and our apricot and apple tarts (one of each). On the way out of town, we stopped at a bike shop run by an ex-racer to get a couple of tubes and a patch kit for the exhorbitant price of about $25. Geneva is NOT a cheap city. In fact, David remembers that while cycling here 28 years ago, he decided not to buy any food until he was back in France.
We put the bikes back together and assembled our bike rack, which we then tested on Naomi's station wagon to make sure it was likely to work on our rental car. Another yummy meal made by Naomi, and it was time for bed.
Vincent had warned us that it might rain today, and sure enough it did. So after a leisurely breakfast, we decided to take a walk into the nature preserve close by. By then the sun was out, and the walk, if a little muddy, was quite pleasant. The highlight was a couple of enormous muddy sows with 5 piglets between them. Interestingly, one of the sows was picking up rocks and rolling them around in her mouth apparently to eat the dirt off them before spitting them out again. Strange. The return was right along the Rhone river. Bread and cheese with our fig salsa (yum!!) and salad for lunch, a little more fussing with the bikes, and we headed off for a short ride under regathering clouds. David was delighted to pass not only a llama (so the ride was by definition a success), but also an alpaca in the same field. It began to sprinkle about half an hour into the ride, and we decided to cut it short. After climbing up to a lovely village called Dardagny that was full of wine-tasting opportunities (not taken), we made a U-turn and headed back through Russin, just across the dam from Aire-la-Ville. By now it was raining harder, but not enough to be uncomfortable. And here we are again, preparing to eat again. I'm definitely going to have to go on a diet when we get back.

Montello and Folina

I was pretty beat after the Asiago plateau, so despite the seductions of the almond cookie ride (which also starts with part of the Asiago climb), we voted for a flatter ride. We had settled on the Montello ride, only to have George announce in the morning that the Montello ride made no sense on a Monday because the bakery with the wonderful whole wheat croissants with honey was closed on Monday. So we reviewed all the options and settled on Montello without the bakery. This seemed to put George's nose out of joint and made him kind of cranky all day, but the ride was well worth it. Lots of tiny lanes and countryside, very little urban riding, and at one point we were following along an irrigation canal on a deserted bike path. Very scenic and quite pleasant. Although the canonical bakery was closed, we found an acceptable patisserie, followed closely by a bar where we had our coffees. We have discovered yet another variation on espresso: a macchiatone, which is a macchiato with slightly more milk, but less than a cappuccino. Just about perfect. Then back to the Laconda for lunch. By this time we were beginning to be amazed at George's consistency in leading the rides at 13.1 +/- 0.1 mph average, regardless of distance or terrain. We almost always got back to the Laconda at 1:00 give or take about 5 minutes. At lunch we discussed going into Bassano del Grappa to look for shoe glue (the sole of my 7 year old Diadoras had separated at the heel on one side), an Italian/English dictionary, and something to bring Vincent and Naomi in Geneva. George announced that there was no point going into town on a Monday, as everything was closed on Mondays. However, given that we had to disassemble our bikes the next afternoon and then leave the following morning, we had little choice.
We caught the bus into town, checked the return schedule and then walked into town. True, many things were closed, but enough were open to make it worthwhile. We thoroughly explored the old part of town within the old walls, including the famous wood and stone bridge by Palladio that is dedicated to the Alpinists who have always revered the bridge and arranged for its rebuilding after it was destroyed in WWII. One end lands in an area of town dedicated to ceramics shops, as well as a gelateria that makes a really mean affogato (gelato drowned in espresso). The best yet. A touristy shop at the foot of the bridge yielded a nice compact Italian/English dictionary. We found a hardware store and bought what I think was contact cement (seems to have done the trick on my shoe). We also bought some local cheese, a fig "salsa", and some almond cookies for Naomi and Vincent.
Jennifer wanted to go to the Giusegi clothing factory, which didn't interest me (David's always up for shopping), so we had decided to climb Monte Grappa the next morning. However, Jennifer turned out to be too tired to ride and Mark was more interested in going to Folina than in climbing the mountain. Since Mark characterized this as a "must do" ride, we changed our plans. George was in a better mood and rode his bike for the second day in a row. Once we got to the climb, he suggested David ride on ahead while he rode with me. We actually had a nice chat, and he had gone so far as telling us how to recognize the coffee stop after the descent, so we didn't have to stay on his wheel for the descent. David and Mark had stopped on the climb to take pictures, and I dropped George on the descent, so I was the first to the coffee stop. Which was closed. If nothing else, this is the ICC trip of the unexpected closures. However, there was a bar only a block away with a very welcoming owner with Fiat 500 rally trophies all over the place. After coffee, we climbed the hill to a 14th century Cistercian monastery that was really impressive. We were the only ones there, and walking into the cloister immediately made one feel quiet and contemplative. This was about the 3rd church on the spot, and the altar contained a statue of the madonna and child from a previous version several centuries older than the current church. The architecture was all pointy arches and soaring columns. George pointed out the grille where monks who were ill could hear mass without having to come down into the church. Back in the cloister, there was an interesting set of before and after pictures of the restoration of the monastery. Apparently at some point the Venetians banned the Cistercians and the monastery became housing for peasants. In 1927? the church as rededicated and restored. We finally tore ourselves away and headed back.The forecast for the day was for rain in the afternoon, and the heat and humidity were really getting oppressive. Even relatively small climbs sent my heart rate too high. We were happy to get home, but this may have been the prettiest ride of them all.
At lunch we were joined by Keith, a South African who has lived in the US for 35 years, and who has spent many long visits at the ICC. He seems to be being groomed as the heir apparent at the ICC. He's a very nice, personable chap, so this bodes well. After lunch and a short nap, there was nothing for it but to disassemble our bikes and pack them. Yet another trip the ICC was drawing to a close.