Day 9: Parma

Today, Heather and I jumped on a train to Parma, home of Parmesan cheese. Train rides in Italy are a destination unto themselves for the scenic vistas they provide.

While there wasn’t much to see in Parma, the town is charming and blissfully devoid of tourists. We were able to amble along at a leisurely pace and admire the sights in relative peace:

Baptistery

Piazza Garibaldi

Obligatory "Old Bike Against the Wall in Europe" Photo

San Giovanni Evangelista

For lunch, we grabbed a table at al Corso which was packed with an all Italian crowd. I had the most delicately and beautifully prepared sole in a white wine and caper sauce.  Bellies full and not much left to see, Heather and I gave in to our wackier sensibilities and headed to the National Puppet Museum. Equal parts fun and creepy, the museum did make for some interesting pictures:

Othello

Closest thing I could find to a muppet. (What national puppet museum doesn't have a muppet?!?)

We returned to Bologna to prepare for our dinner at L’Osteria Bottega. Decidedly out of the way (so much so that we thought we were going to get mugged), Bottega has served up my best Italian meal to date. With a boisterous local crowd, the walk through the dicey neightborhood was well worth it. 

On our way home, we noticed that Piazza Maggiore was packed. Why? The festival of Saint Petronius, Patron Saint of Bologna, of course! I marveled at the lack of barricades/police presence. It just seemed like an impromptu gathering. The difference? Italians know how to live life. With the exception of a few open containers, no one was drunk and messy. It was a respectful and joyous congregation. The only people that were total messes were the six drunken and sloppy American girls, each with their own bottle of wine in hand. Given that the Amanda Knox conviction had been turned over just mere hours earlier, one would’ve hoped they would exercise more discretion. I guess not.

Heather and I were situated 100 yards away from deployment of the fireworks. Since these firecrackers were not being shot very high, at the end of 10 minutes, the entire piazza was showered in ash.

Oh Italia, you never cease to surprise me!

Day 8: Bologna

One of my favorite things about Italy? The blackout curtains. Finally in a room with air conditioning, we were able to sleep in complete comfort, silence, and darkness. A testament to how tired we were, we didn’t stir until well after 8am. After a leisurely breakfast at the hotel, we headed out to the Mercato Maggiore. One of the most fascinating things about Bologna is that the city’s walkways are covered (porticos). There are over 24 miles of porticos in the city of Bologna. And in 85 degree heat, it makes walking the city an absolute joy:

Once at the mercato, we sampled many of the offerings:

As the 1 o’clock hour approached (Italy shuts down from 1p-3p), we returned to our hotel to retrieve books, crosswords, and postcards to keep us occupied in the piazza while we waited out the city-wide siesta. I can’t remember the last time I had an hour to read, relax, and people watch. It felt luxurious. At 3p, we headed to vodaphone to get SIM cards for our phones and spent the remainder of the afternoon wandering the Jewish neighborhood window shopping for gift ideas. Bologna is known for their mortadella, parmesan, and ceramic. None of these are easy to transport. I’ll have to keep thinking of new gift ideas.

Dinner was at the Michelin rated Teresina where I finally got to try the Bolognaise specialty of tortollini di brood (tortellini in chicken broth.) A very simple dish, it serves as the Bolognaise version of chicken noodle soup. Next time I’m sick, this is what I will be craving. It was delicious.  And let’s take a minute for the sheer amount of mortadella I’ve been consuming. I’ve always considered mortadella mort-ifying (heh), but oh dear lord in heaven, the meat here is ridiculously good:

After dinner, we headed back to Piazza Maggiore for the food and wine festival and associated concert. Italy has refreshed me and I am excited for our day trip tomorrow to Parma – home of parmesan cheese! 

Day 7: Arrival in Bologna

Even though I had a great time in France and Paris is an amazing city, my heart belongs to Italy. Hearing Italian on the flight, the taxi ride through Bologna, I just felt giddy. I can’t really explain it, other than pure love.

By the time Heather and I checked into the hotel, it was around 1pm and we needed to find something to eat on a slow, lazy and warm Sunday in Bologna. We headed to the main square, Piazza Maggiore and found a café in the shade. Beer, wine, and a sandwich on fresh ciabatta were the orders of the day.

The piazza slowly started waking up and by 2:30, there was a pleasant bustle of locals. And, in typical Italian form, out of nowhere, a retired military band struck up a whole set of patriotic songs:

Feeling like I was exactly where I wanted to be, I wrote some postcards and realized that the next two weeks are going to be exactly like this -- full of piazzas, vino, and la dolce vita. My ideal vacation has finally arrived!

Feeling rested, but not too eager to do any serious sightseeing, we decided to jump on the hop-on-hop off bus. It was the perfect activity for our first day in town. While inquiring about the schedule at the tourist office, I learned that we are here just in time for the Emilia Romagna Food and Wine Festival. Best. Luck. Ever. Thank you, Comune di Bologna for planning this event to coincide with my arrival! After dinner, we headed back to Piazza Maggiore for the concert:

Piazza Maggiore

A Farewell Tour Le Marais

While packing, I remembered that I had forgotten to make a photocopy of my passport. I quickly stepped out to take care of that errand and was reminded that Le Marais’ farmer’s market was in full effect. I decided to take a detour and bid farewell to my butcher, baker, and candlestick maker.  I’ll give y’all a quick tour of the samplings on my block:

 Au revoir, Paris, you were a tasty appetizer to the upcoming main course that is Italia.

How to Get Around Paris Even if Your French Skills Are Lacking

Go ask an Indian or Sri Lankan. If there was one good thing that came out of the British occupation of India, it’s that most Indians speak English.

Day 6: Catacombs and Luxembourg Garden

The initial plan of the day was to lay low, go to a café in our neighborhood, carouse the farmer’s market, and begin the slow, sad process of packing and cleaning. However, once Heather realized that she confused the catacombs with the crypt, off to the catacombs we went. Basically, Paris needed space, so their brilliant plan was to dig up the cemeteries and place all of the bodies into this catacomb. Six. Million. Skeletons. ?!?!  Tunnels full of neatly packaged human remains. It was like the freaking Costco of bones:

Heather loved it. I was mildly creeped out. The major plus was that it was markedly cooler 500 steps underground.

Already out and about, and close to Luxembourg Gardens, we decided to knock this sight off of our list:

The French CIA is located underneath the park.

After the Luxembourg Gardens, Heather headed to buy gifts and I returned to our neighborhood to get a jump on packing and a say a final goodbye to Le Marais.

Packing all done, we headed out for our final night in Paris. Our walk home yielded this beautiful shot:

Dear Muni, I’ve taken on an international lover, and his name is the Metro.

I have yet to wait more than 3 minutes for a metro train (or even the RER for that matter.) Even on a Sunday. Even at 1am. That is all.