When I first encountered the big sculpture in the center of the waterfront circle in Pesaro, I immediately knew who the artist was -- Arnaldo Pomodoro.
Because not only has he created a sculpture I've seen in Milan, but he's the artist of the large wheel found in the square in uptown Charlotte.
Pesaro
Milano
Charlotte
My room at Des Bains came with breakfast. It was sparse, compared to other breakfasts I've had in Italian hotels, but that may have been because there were so few people staying there. But what was there was good, and the waitress made me caffe Americano special.
Checkout was 10, which is a little early in the off-season.
I strolled over to the waterfront circle, and sat in the sun again, enjoying the sound of the water and watching the people until it was time for my train. The sun was warm and everyone was happy, and it couldn't have been a better morning!
There were all manner of people doing all manner of things along the boardwalk, welcoming spring to Pesaro. Rail thin women in black pencil pants and 4 inch heels strolled with Soprano-esque boyfriends; sporty girls ran in groups; old people shuffled to church; men biked while their dogs ran alongside; parents pushed strollers; one grandfather came along operating a radio controlled Audi which a tiny girl was steering.
There seems to have been a promiscuous Labrador retriever making the rounds in Pesaro, as there were Dachshund-shaped dogs with Labrador heads and Spaniel-shaped dogs with Labrador heads trotting the boardwalk
My intention was to have a gelato-lunch on my stroll back to the train, but I was saved from myself by late openings. And then I was back at the station and on my way back to Milano. .
I am such a shit. Seriously. Such a shit.
It's not only that I let down Semone, which I'm sure I did.... But this is typical behavior for me! I pay hard-earned money to travel someplace, take the time to go there, and then do the same shit as if I was at home.
I did it in India... I did it in Viareggio... And now I've done it in Pesaro.
After my beer and sunshine induced marathon nap, I stayed in my room and read my book all night.
I didn't venture out to eat the special foods of the region... to eat seafood...
I laid up in my bed reading my Kindle.
I'm such a shit.
The Pesaro Wine Festival is being held at Villa Cattani Stuart, which is actually in another town, and the bus only comes once per hour. Since I haven't eaten since breakfast, I take a stroll around the beachfront circle, intending to grab a quick bite before heading out.
When, oh when, will I finally give up my American expectations!!??
The boardwalk is hopping. There are half a dozen places open, with different price points and food selections. I find a restaurant with a decent menu and an open table on the water, and I have a seat in the sun. I wait 15 minutes before the waiter comes to clean the dishes from the previous customers, and I quickly give him my order so as to not waste any time and get to the wine festival -- salmon salad, medium beer, water naturale.
The beer and the water came quickly... along with breadsticks which I chowed into immediately while waiting for my salad.
and waiting... and waiting... and waiting.....
Don't get me wrong, the beer was nice and cold, and it was fun watching the activities on the beach. People in leather jackets had pulled their jeans up above their knees and were wading in the surf. A backhoe was replenishing the beach, spreading and packing off-color sand up against concrete pilings and walkways while little kids stood on fence rails watching. Dogs were walking their masters.
While sitting there I was able to see that the city has constructed several rectangular breakwaters around the sandy beach areas. Some walls of riprap rose two meters above the surface of the water, but the walls running parallel to the shore were even with the surface or just a couple of centimeters above, allowing gentle waves to lap the shore. I got the impression that swimming at those beaches would be more like swimming in a calm lake, than in a sea.
All around me in the restaurant people were living their lives. A group of hoods with shaved heads and white tee shirts slammed beer after beer. Four 30-something women drank spritzes and laughed.
My salad finally came. It was a nice selection of iceberg lettuce, some red cabbage and some rocket, cantelope, a mild, cruchy veg I didn't recognize, and thin slices of salmon which I assume had been poached or smoked. (The menu didn't mention sushi, so I'm not allowing my mind to go there.)
All-in-all it was a nice two hours with food, beer and sun, after which I had no inclination to walk the 4600 feet to the train/bus station, catch a rarely scheduled bus, for a ride who knows how long, to a wine festival where I may be totally under dressed and incapable of making myself understood in a language I don't speak.
So I went to my room and took a marathon nap.
I used booking.com to reserve a room at Hotel Des Bains, which is 1 block from the beach and "4600 ft from Train Station". From the station it's a nice walk through the quaint historic/commercial area to the mare and hotel, limited to foot traffic and complete with a large square playing classical music (as Pesaro is the birthplace of the opera composer Gioachino Rossini).. Many people are enjoying the sunshine and warm temperatures - sitting outside with a spritz or gelato.
After the commercial area I pass through a residential area with large villas each having its own style, typically reminiscent of an Art Nouveau/Art Deco fusion, with matching wrought iron fences surrounding. Perhaps this is some European style I've never seen -- note to self: research!
Gardens are big, streets are lined with large shade trees, and there's lots of street parking. This town definitely has a laid back feel to it.
There was actually one very cool Art Deco house in a fabulous location right at the waterfront circle!
Hotel Des Bains has a bar and a large restaurant attached, and all the exterior doorways are flanked by red enamled sphinxes -- not sure why, just sayin. The room is clean, the bathroom is huge and newly refitted, and a flock of pigeons live on my window sill, who I disturb when I open the shutters. And (score!) though I booked a Single, I've been given a Matrimonial bed. Both people I deal with at the desk speak excellent English, and they're really helpful giving recommendations.
This weekend I'm taking the train to the Adriatic coast, to a beach town called Pesaro (PAYZ eh roe). This is my first ever trip to the Adriatic, and actually I've never been farther east than Bologna. My friend Semone from the blog Gastronomer wanted photos from the Pesaro Wine Festival, so she sent me her press pass and here I am.
I started around 9am on a train cutting across the north of Italy to Bologna where I'll change trains. Then we'll head south and to the coast.
Out the dirty windows of the regional train it's a beautiful spring day. We stop at almost every station on our trip through farmland where the grass is full-on green. Early spring forsythia and flowering cherries dot the landscape. Oh god, I'm so glad the winter is over.
I had a great chat with an Architecture student from Mexico City who's studying in Milan. He's been hiding from the weather since arriving in February, and now he's busting loose. Watch out Italy, JM is on the move!
After fighting back to the surface from hibernation, lumbering squinty-eyed out of the cave into the bright pollen-filled air, and giving my back a good satisfying scrub against a big tree, I’m ready to take on the Italian primavera.
Easter weekend I met some friends from Charlotte in my longtime fave beach town Monterosso al Mare. On Saturday night we experienced a hellacious thunderstorm complete with house-shaking thunder and riso-sized hail. Sunday dawned crystal clear and warm. Fabulous weekend with old friends (very old!!) :-)
I stay at Hotel Villa Adriana — highly recommended. Comfy mattress, terrific breakfast, beautiful grounds with pool and lemon trees, good WiFi.
We had fantastic calamari and pesto at Ristorante Belvedere, right on the waterfront. Reservations are suggested.
Palm blossoms?
Beautiful water view
The hillside
The grounds seen from my balcony
Last view of the sea from the train station
Pesto and spritz al fresco before I leave
Since Barr drove the Milano to Genova leg, I was in line to drive the next leg of our trip, but I was hesitant to drive inside Genova. All the trucks and crazy on ramps and signs I don't know.
So Barr drove for about 20 km and then we switched. It was a nice ride along the Ligurian coast and through mountain tunnels, with the Med to our left.
We wondered about the transition from Italy into France. We knew the autostrade would flow directly into the French equivalent, but the GPS system on Barr's Fiat 500 only charted to the border. As if travel in France was not worthy of tracking.
We had good ole fashioned printed directions from Google, but the instructions were confusing and the signage in France is unlike both US and Italian signage. And to make matters even more concerning, we lost our mobile service and seemed to be about an hour behind schedule according to the Google maps. And, it got dark, as it does in December.
We'd been sending texts to our hosts, unsure if the texts had been making it through, and so as we were switching drivers again we gave them a call.
We got through to our hosts! Turns out Google was wrong about leaving the highway at Exit 24 to head north to Avignon. Instead we were to leave the highway much earlier at Aix en Provance and follow signs to Avignon Sud. And then call our host to come pick us up.
So we soldiered on.
After asking everyone's best friend, Google, we learned that Avignon is 6.5 hours drive from Milano, via Genova. And since I have a friend in Genova, Barr and I made plans to stop in Genova for lunch.
And since Barr lives north of Milano, and I live in south Milano, we made plans to rendezvous (huh huh, francais) at a suburban train station south of the city.
I had packed a carry on sized rolling suitcase with clothing, my work rolling bag with activities and electronics, and my backpack with food. And I headed out for the two looong block's walk to the train very early... thank goodness... because rolling bags at the same time on a busy work morning while wearing a backpack and carrying a purse... a little awkward and not really speedy... Then I had to carry it all down a double flight of concrete stairs in a single fell swoop. I was damned happy to climb into the warmth of the train.
We met at 10:15 on a beautifully sunny, but cold as a mofo, morning, and hit the autostrade for Genova. It took the expected two-ish hours to drive to our meeting place.
We had a great lunch with my friend D, who gave me a Genova guide in anticipation of my ditching Milano and moving to the beach, and then we headed out toward France.
I spent a beautiful late morning and early afternoon at the Oh Bej! Oh Bej! Christmas Mercato. This is an annual market, properted to have begun in 1510! Let that sink in for a moment... this Milanese Christmas fair has been held since 1510.
While containing many of the same type booths as a normal mercato (fruits and vegetables, used/antique dishes, sweaters and hats and gloves (oh my! or in this case oh bej!), this market also has items suitable for Christmas eating and Christmas giving.
Just a sampling:
You can buy hot chestnuts to eat at the fair...
... or take them home and cook them yourself.
Or you can buy roasted and sugared nuts of all types.
You can sample meats and cheeses.
Check out the stuffed deer and boar heads above the shop.
Notice that this little piggy has a big Italian roll in his mouth, instead of the traditional apple.
Even I got into the spirit, and had a hot doggish sausage baked in a roll.
The softest Italian leather gloves...
Fur, fur, fur...
Copper pots
Christmas crap...
Mediterranean bulbs for your yard
Ssucculents and cacti
Art...
Olives...
And what Christmas fair would be complete without a booth of US Military Surplus?
Pictures for my new apartment..........
No announcement was made, no conductor walked through with info. We mostly sat there quietly as sheep do... A few of the bold got up and stormed out with raised voices and flailing gestures. But the Sister and I, we held steady.
And 30 minutes after our scheduled depature time, with nary an announcement, the treno slowly made its way from the binario out into the countryside of Lombardia.
I expected my trip would take me Milano to Genova to Monterosso, without a change of trains for me. But when we reached a stop in Genova (Brindisi, Brignole, boh!) everyone was departing, and a young Italian man stopped to tell me (in Inglese! how do they always know!!??!!) that the train ended here. Wha!? Guess this was due to the unexpected delay perhaps throwing me into a differently scheduled train.
No matter! I grabbed my things and headed into the main station, where the nice young man had already flagged down a train employee who was cursing at his excruciatingly slow iPad to show which binario I needed to hit to catch the next available ride to Monterosso
I hurriedly took the metro to the main stazione, where I bought a ticket for Monterosso (via Genova) leaving in 20 minutes.
This was cutting it close and I ran up the multiple levels of inclined escalators (think airport people-mover on an incline... like a Whole Foods cart transport).
I waited through a security line where tickets were checked, then found the Bin (binario) where my treno was already parked. The tickets had no class designation, so I found a nice single seat with room in the aisle where I could park my rolling bag, and was shortly joined across from me by a nun in full habit.
And we waited for our train to leave... and waited... and waited.