lollardfish (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
lollardfish) wrote2006-08-18 01:22 pm
lollardfish) wrote2006-08-18 01:22 pm
Italia! Italia!
Let this not read as a collection of maladies and complaints. The sun shines, the air is cold and clear, and the mountains are spectacular. But the gastronomical elements of our vacation have taken something of a turn for the worse. We think we're on the way up now, though.
We made several dubious, though interesting, choices involving food. Somewhere something went horribly wrong.
On Tuesday, the girl and I had a leisurly morning in Azay involving tasty snacks and shopping, explored the basement of the cave at the gite, then were taken to the train station. The train to Paris was quick and easy, but the metro station at Mt. Parnasse was jammed, and it took us about an hour to get to the Gare du Nord. Sadly, we had only 54 minutes to make our train, missed it, and faced a 2 and a half hour wait. We walked outside in Paris briefly, trolling our luggage behind us, and dined on a little pizza (dubious dining decision (ddd)1) in a cafe outside the Gare. As Parisian experiences go, it was more than a little sub-optimal, but the people watching was excellent.
Eventually, we caught our train to Beauvais, and found ourselves in pouring rain without a taxi in site. Waiting awhile, the rain lifted, and we decided to walk to our hotel. This was tiring but more effective than waiting or trying to use the telephone in French. Beauvais is a neat little city. It has two medieval cathedrals, both closed by the time we got there (and a medieval bishop-count's fortified residence, also closed). It's become important to travellers because RyanAir, the low-cost airline based out of Ireland, flies from there and calls it "Paris." They call Bergamo, "Milan," and Treviso, "Venice," and I find this all amusing. In the middle ages, the Bishops of Beauvais were quite important lords in Picardy, and the town had some economic and political clout. During the 13th century, cities competed to build the tallest possible cathedrals, and Beauvais demonstrated the limits of medieval "buttress" technology as the roof and spire came tumbling down. The cathedral still looms high above the town, and you can see it from throughout the central section. Fun! We dined at an interesting Alsatian restaurant (ddd 2) in town, largely because everything else was closed. The 15th of August is the Feast of the Assumption of St. Mary, and an important holiday. Alsace is as much German as French, and the menu was filled with cured porks and saurkrauts and such things - so we ordered them, and they were alright, but not stellar.
The next morning we flew to Italy. Ryanair, like Southwest and other low-cost airlines, has no assigned seats. They board people with children first, then people who checked in first, then the second half. Aggressive positioning in the queue is a must, and we did so, and had an easy, short, flight to Bergamo. Our plan was to find a hotel in the city and spend our first night exploring the medieval citta alta (city on the hill), but the prices turned us off. To be anywhere near the old city cost over 200 euro a night, and I felt like getting in the car and hitting the road. Our car is a cute, lime green, Fiat Panda, and it's been great. We sped off down the Autostrada 4 towards the Veneto, intending to see Soave, a town that makes one of our favorite, if low-rent, wines. Less than two hours later, we came upon a walled city perched on a hill with a massive castle, and were delighted to discover it was our destination.
Aside: Europe is small. Everything is close. It's fun.
Soave was closed. Ferragosto (Assumption) kicks off the most serious week of holiday-making in Italy, and door after door said "chiuso per ferie," and that they'd return on the 21st or so. But the countryside was spectacular. The hills roll and every possible inch is covered with terraced vineyards or (more rarely) olive trees. We drove up. We drove down. We drove around. We followed, on a whim, a sign to the "Agriturismo Libero," and found ourselves outside a majestic house perched on the hill looking back at the city of Soave. For 60E a night, we had an enormous room, a view, a comfy bed, big wooden beams and slate ceilings, and a new best friend. Nicola, who owns the Libero, the vineyards surrounding, and seems to have his hands in many pots, endeared himself to me quickly. He apologized for not having a bathroom in our bedroom, but he explained that it would have ruined the look of the room, and that this wasn't a hotel. I told him that if we had wanted a hotel ... and he laughed and said, with me, we would have gone to a hotel! He then told me I wasn't an American, I was a Venetian. Whee. My Italian is really sharp, by the way, which is a pleasant surprise. At any rate, I'd return to Soave just to stay at the Libero again.
Dinner was lousy (ddd 3). One Osteria was open. We ate there. The people were irritating. The food mediocre and way too much of it. Something probably poisoned us, although I was already feeling under the weather. Shannon and I both woke up sick to our stomachs, and have really not yet recovered. We love the scenary in the mountains, but are tired and have no appetite. We seem on the mend, but it's slow, and all we really want to do is EAT ITALIAN FOOD!
There's so much more, and yet ... it's time to wake the girl up from her nap and go trundle along the mountain-side.
We made several dubious, though interesting, choices involving food. Somewhere something went horribly wrong.
On Tuesday, the girl and I had a leisurly morning in Azay involving tasty snacks and shopping, explored the basement of the cave at the gite, then were taken to the train station. The train to Paris was quick and easy, but the metro station at Mt. Parnasse was jammed, and it took us about an hour to get to the Gare du Nord. Sadly, we had only 54 minutes to make our train, missed it, and faced a 2 and a half hour wait. We walked outside in Paris briefly, trolling our luggage behind us, and dined on a little pizza (dubious dining decision (ddd)1) in a cafe outside the Gare. As Parisian experiences go, it was more than a little sub-optimal, but the people watching was excellent.
Eventually, we caught our train to Beauvais, and found ourselves in pouring rain without a taxi in site. Waiting awhile, the rain lifted, and we decided to walk to our hotel. This was tiring but more effective than waiting or trying to use the telephone in French. Beauvais is a neat little city. It has two medieval cathedrals, both closed by the time we got there (and a medieval bishop-count's fortified residence, also closed). It's become important to travellers because RyanAir, the low-cost airline based out of Ireland, flies from there and calls it "Paris." They call Bergamo, "Milan," and Treviso, "Venice," and I find this all amusing. In the middle ages, the Bishops of Beauvais were quite important lords in Picardy, and the town had some economic and political clout. During the 13th century, cities competed to build the tallest possible cathedrals, and Beauvais demonstrated the limits of medieval "buttress" technology as the roof and spire came tumbling down. The cathedral still looms high above the town, and you can see it from throughout the central section. Fun! We dined at an interesting Alsatian restaurant (ddd 2) in town, largely because everything else was closed. The 15th of August is the Feast of the Assumption of St. Mary, and an important holiday. Alsace is as much German as French, and the menu was filled with cured porks and saurkrauts and such things - so we ordered them, and they were alright, but not stellar.
The next morning we flew to Italy. Ryanair, like Southwest and other low-cost airlines, has no assigned seats. They board people with children first, then people who checked in first, then the second half. Aggressive positioning in the queue is a must, and we did so, and had an easy, short, flight to Bergamo. Our plan was to find a hotel in the city and spend our first night exploring the medieval citta alta (city on the hill), but the prices turned us off. To be anywhere near the old city cost over 200 euro a night, and I felt like getting in the car and hitting the road. Our car is a cute, lime green, Fiat Panda, and it's been great. We sped off down the Autostrada 4 towards the Veneto, intending to see Soave, a town that makes one of our favorite, if low-rent, wines. Less than two hours later, we came upon a walled city perched on a hill with a massive castle, and were delighted to discover it was our destination.
Aside: Europe is small. Everything is close. It's fun.
Soave was closed. Ferragosto (Assumption) kicks off the most serious week of holiday-making in Italy, and door after door said "chiuso per ferie," and that they'd return on the 21st or so. But the countryside was spectacular. The hills roll and every possible inch is covered with terraced vineyards or (more rarely) olive trees. We drove up. We drove down. We drove around. We followed, on a whim, a sign to the "Agriturismo Libero," and found ourselves outside a majestic house perched on the hill looking back at the city of Soave. For 60E a night, we had an enormous room, a view, a comfy bed, big wooden beams and slate ceilings, and a new best friend. Nicola, who owns the Libero, the vineyards surrounding, and seems to have his hands in many pots, endeared himself to me quickly. He apologized for not having a bathroom in our bedroom, but he explained that it would have ruined the look of the room, and that this wasn't a hotel. I told him that if we had wanted a hotel ... and he laughed and said, with me, we would have gone to a hotel! He then told me I wasn't an American, I was a Venetian. Whee. My Italian is really sharp, by the way, which is a pleasant surprise. At any rate, I'd return to Soave just to stay at the Libero again.
Dinner was lousy (ddd 3). One Osteria was open. We ate there. The people were irritating. The food mediocre and way too much of it. Something probably poisoned us, although I was already feeling under the weather. Shannon and I both woke up sick to our stomachs, and have really not yet recovered. We love the scenary in the mountains, but are tired and have no appetite. We seem on the mend, but it's slow, and all we really want to do is EAT ITALIAN FOOD!
There's so much more, and yet ... it's time to wake the girl up from her nap and go trundle along the mountain-side.
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(Things to Watch Out For: My doctor told me once that actual food poisoning is exceedingly rare and in almost all cases what happens is that you pick up a virus from the food you are eating which was not sufficiently/properly cooked. This is most likey with pig meat, which can transmit upwards of 50 viruses that humans can catch. With other animals, the odds of getting sick are much loewr as they can only carry a very small percentage of things that human can catch.)
I love that you have a Venetian accent.
Feel better!
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The thing about the pork is that we ate various types of cured and smoked meats, so undercooking wasn't a likely option. Lack of hygiene, on the other hand, seemed possible. But I think the girl has identified the culprit with the potato-cheese-egg-chicken-mayo salad we picked up in Azay and ate hours later. It was tasty, too. Damn vegetables. And birds.
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K.
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My sweetie did forget what shall be called DDD1.5 , the salad we got from a deli like shop in Azay. It had many options for being bad; eggs, mayonesa, chicken.
I'm awake the mountain calls.:)
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Feel better.
B
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Airplane Travel
I just read that U.K. airports are now allowing a single small carry-on. The TSA is allowing up to 4 oz of saline; i don't know about the UK airports.
B
Re: Airplane Travel
But you're allowed 10 kilos in carry ons, so we could have stuffed our backpacks full of wine.
Re: Airplane Travel
B