Day 15
Written en route to Aosta, Italy at 5:00pm
The last time I wrote we were travelling to Turin--the train was very slow and stopped every few minutes, for about seven and a half hours. We didn't mind the long ride, though, since it was a drizzly day and would have been miserable to walk around outside. In addition, when the sun came out we were moving along the coast, through La Cinque Terre, which we were considering visiting ourselves. This region is known for its five medieval villages clinging to cliffs above the sea. Through the other window of the train we watched large mountains emerge, dotted with villas overlooking the distant ocean. It really was quite dramatic.
Quick glimpses from the train ride (Florence to Turin):
Some demonstration in Genoa
A typical lunch
We arrived in Turin late and checked into our hostel outside the city center. Here, unlike the other cities we stayed in, we would have to take the bus to get into town, since there really were no hostels or budget hotels in town. This seemed odd but after not too long we discovered that Turin, despite being the biggest city we have stayed in so far (pop. 921,000), is not the hot destination that Florence, Venice, and even Bologna are, which was extremely refreshing. For me, it was hard to really appreciate Florence and Venice because of their crowded, narrow streets and the throngs of tourists. It really distracted me from the appeal and culture of the city. Turin, however, was clean, wide, and no less grand.
The hostel was pretty nice and extremely clean, provided fresh towels, and the owner (at the least the man) was very helpful and had a nice attitude (the lady was a bit harsh). Besides being outside the city center, the main problem with the accommodation was it had no kitchen facilities. For every lunch and dinner we made do with mixing canned beans, canned tomatoes, and a small jar of pasta sauce and served that at room temperature with bread and cheese. However, the cheese of course gradually became more elaborate, the bread more artisan, and the drink went from water to boxed wine (only 0.85 euros at the cheap Aldi-style EuroSpin supermarket down the road; cheaper than milk, cheaper than bottled water). Our evening snack consisted of a 1 litre box of long-life milk and cornflakes. We were also able to experiment with how long we could keep food items unrefrigerated--we ate our sealed yogurt containers after about 48 hours and kept gorgonzola for about 30 (the man who sold us the cheese said you could keep it up to 10 days unchilled if it is kept wrapped. I suppose it is already molded and the addition of more mold could only enhance the flavour). We never did feel ill or get upset stomachs.
On Monday morning after our not too inspiring run along a somewhat dangerously busy residential street leading up a long hill, we took the bus into town. As Seth worked at the library I walked around and explored the numerous piazzas which seemed to be hidden around every other corner.
The National University Library in the Piazza Carlo Alberto
Turin has very different architecture--perhaps a little French-influenced?
The massive Piazza Vittorio Veneto
After meeting back with Seth (the library closed early, at 2pm), we had our typical lunch of cheese, bread, and sauce, then visited the Duomo di San Giovanni, the home of the Shroud of Turin. The church was not unlike the others we had seen, but it did have a nice reproduction of the shroud (the real thing will not be exposed for public viewing again until 2025), and we were surprised to find the real deal hidden under a covering behind a glass wall. I'm not catholic and don't put faith in religious relics, but I must admit it was pretty neat.
Duomo di San Giovanni, home of the Shroud
Seth with Jesus (a reproduction of the shroud and the negative image of its photograph)
We then headed north of the city center, past old Roman ruins, and into Porta Palazzo, Europe's largest outdoor market. It seemed to go on and on--flowers, clothing, odd-and-ends, and of course amazingly cheap produce: Kiwis for 0.50€/kilo (about 35 cents per pound), cherries 1.50€/kilo, apples and bananas 0.50€/kilo, nectarines 1.00€/kilo, and all types of bread for 1.25€/kilo (about 75 cents per pound). We didn't bother even looking at the veggies because we would have no way to cook them, but I am sure they were cheap, too. It kinda makes you wonder why you would buy produce at the grocery store for three times as much? There were also several large buildings surrounding the market, each filled with meat, cheese, and bread vendors. Seth insisted on buying cheese from an older fellow with long kinky hair who operated a small stand off to the side. They got chatting and we bought a nice slab of gorgonzola from him, with a special discount. Loaded down with fruit, bread, and cheese, we headed back to the hostel for a great big dinner followed by dessert of fresh pear and gorgonzola.
Porta Palazzo, the largest outdoor market in Europe
Via Giuseppe Garibaldi, where everyone seems to congregate beginning at 4:30pm
Political concert at Piazza San Carlo. Elections are coming soon. Vote Communist.
The view from our suburban hostel overlooks a park and a shady modern art museum. Notice the suspicious guitar player on the bench.
Pear + gorgonzola + boxed wine + old yogurt = delicious
The next morning (yesterday, Tuesday), was a public holiday so we were treated with very light traffic on our run towards the city greenway, which trails off from the Po River at the east of town. The greenway thankfully was dirt and took off uphill leading to a nice view of the city from someone's private property. On our way back down we rounded a corner and came face to face (almost literally) with a German Shepherd off its leash. It came towards us barking, and though at first we both thought it was a friendly or excited bark, it definitely was aggressive. The dog didn't snarl or bare its teeth, but it did charge us and put its mouth on Seth's leg, then mine, the Seth's again. Seth shouted at it and tried to kick at it--I was unsure if I should join in and curse at it and try to hit it with a stick, but in my uncertainty (I didn't want the dog to totally lose it and actually attack us), I just stood my ground and let Seth do the yelling. All the while its owner, a middle-age woman holding a long stick, called and shouted at the dog, but kept a comfortable distance of maybe 15 metres. Why did she not come over and pull it off of us? Why did she not hit it? After several lunges and lots of barking, the dog finally backed off. Why do people let their aggressive dogs off leashes? Why do they not discipline their animals? Though I think some dogs are dangerous and are hazards, I put most of my blame on their owners. I'm just glad this one didn't actually decide to bite down on us--we walked away with slobber and a light scratch on Seth, though nothing like the dog bite he received in Vietnam.
The view from the greenway
The birds in the park. I wish I saw (or heard) the Cuculo.
The rest of the day was not nearly as eventful--because of the holiday quite a few stores were closed, but in the afternoon while we were enjoying nice big gelatos a parade came marching down the street. Like Ferrara, it had a historical theme, though unlike Ferrara, they didn't seem to take it very seriously; many of the participants were chewing gum, looking around, and chatting with each other. Maybe in a few hundred more years they will get it right.
Piazza___?
Po River
Big man, tiny cup, cute chocolates
The afternoon ritual
Watching the Republic Day parade
We spent the evening trying to decide between staying in Turin the rest of our time in Italy or if we should try to move on to another city for our last night; moving would risk Seth not finishing in the library, as well as require train and hotel booking, packing and unpacking, and of course, physically moving, all for just 24 hours in a new city. We decided to just sleep on it.
This morning we still hadn't decided on what to do--even after our run we were still torn between going or staying. We eventually came to the conclusion to try to leave town in the afternoon, if Seth could finish his work in the library. He managed to wrap things up just as the library was closing (2pm again), so after making one more round at the gigantic outdoor market (unbelievably held every weekday) for bread rolls and more cheese from the quirky old fellow (little did I know that the cheese I selected, Fontina, has its own Designation of Protected Origin and is produced in the Valle d'Aosta, where we were headed), we had our typical lunch, took the bus back to the hostel to grab our stuff and book a hotel for tonight (with the help of the hotel owner), went back to the train station and hopped on the next train to Aosta.
The regional train to Valle d'Aosta
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