Saturday, 6/29

This morning we had to wake early and pack our bags.  We were sad to be leaving Cretaiole, but our adventure must continue.  With one more peek at mama cat and her tiny kittens and a final photo opportunity and hugs and kisses from Luciano, we said our goodbyes.  Luciano hugged me so tight, I thought he might crack a rib.  He really didn’t want to let us go.  He joked with Greg if he stayed to play guitar for the weekend he wouldn’t pay him, but he wouldn’t have to pay to stay.  All joking aside, we were off to Florence to return the car and catch a train to Milan. 

What can I say about driving in Florence?  There are many descriptive phrases I could use, but not in the company of my polite audience.  Sufficed to say, thank god Greg was driving.  One-way streets, Zona Traffico Limitato, and crazy drivers make it a very stressful place to navigate, let alone be the one behind the wheel.  Joyce and I thank Greg for being brave enough, patient enough, and apt enough of a driver to take it on!  When the car was safely returned, we strapped on our bags and hoofed it back to the station.  Plenty early for our train, we snacked on Panini and croissants we grabbed in Pienza before departing this morning.  Our train arrived on the track we expected and we got nearly two hours to watch the scenery pass by, catch up on reading, writing, and checking our upcoming travel plans.  Upon arriving in Milan we enjoyed the archaic looking  station and the contrast of the gay pride parade happening in the square outside the station.  We smiled to see rainbow flags and gentlemen with bright pink hair in electric blue fishnet dresses, we were back in the big city and the diversity we had missed in the countryside greeted us in Milan.  Our hotel was an easy five minute walk from the station.  Spartan but clean, our small rooms were up four flights of stairs unless you felt like braving the closet like elevator. (I did not!)  While our rooms were sufficient in size and cleanliness, the décor was rather outdated.  Not that it mattered, as we chose this hotel for its affordability and proximity to the train station for our early train to Switzerland tomorrow.  We stowed our bags in our rooms and took the Metro to see the Duomo.  After making Joyce climb about a million stairs to get to the surface streets from the underground, I thought she was about ready to punch me in the nose until she was confronted with the outstanding sight of the cathedral.  She was truly in awe. The detailed carvings and grandeur of its size took her breath away.  We entered to view the amazing arched ceilings and colorful stained glass windows.  Luckily we arrived during evening mass, so Greg got to hear the acoustics of the space.  As we left the Duomo we were getting hungry, so Greg and I retraced our footsteps from two years ago and found la Rinascente, a shopping mall topped with restaurants on the top floor.  The patio on the 7^th floor houses Obika, a mozzarella bar.  We sat on the roof  with a view of the Duomo and got a closer look at the chiseled gargoyles and tiny adornments that make the building so spectacular.  Our dinner was also amazing. We had the fried mozzarella with tempura style sage leaves, a caponata de aubergine  (a sweet and spicy eggplant stew) with buratta (a creamy and soupy cheese), grilled artichokes with smoked mozzarella, and a pizza with three kinds of cheese, tomatoes and basil.   It was delicious!  To top off our final dinner in Italy, we had espresso that came with a tiny vanilla ice cream bonbon dipped in chocolate on the side.  We also sampled two mini desserts; one tiny shot glass sized tiramsu and the other a limoncello soaked pastry in a vanilla cream sauce.  It was a superb meal.  After dinner, we toured Joyce through the Galleria and made her spin on the bull’s balls.  We peeked in at the expensive stores and ristorantes on this shopping boulevard. Then we saw the opera house, la Scala, and all the impeccably dressed theater goers making their way to the Saturday night show.  Stopping along the side walk in an ancient market place.  We showed Joyce the whispering wall, a corridor of arches that throws your voice so that it sounds like a friend 50 yards away is whispering in your ear, very helpful in old-time scams.

   

Though it was totally unnecessary we forced ourselves to have on last gelato at Grom on our last night in Italy.  Joyce had a fudgy chocolate fondant,  I went for the traditional pistachio and hazelnut,  Greg tried the Grom special cream with cookie bits and coffee. Ridiculously full and sleepy we wandered home via the Metro, crossed paths with some vagrants at the station who were having a wild night, and made it safely back to our hotel. It turns out our beds did leave something to be desired. While I laid awake tossing and turning, I thought to compare them to cardboard, but Joyce thought cardboard would have more give to it so she gave them more a brick like description.  The sheets were scratchy and rough.  We missed our comfortable memory foam mattresses and fabric softened sheet in Cretaiole.  Either way the lack of comfort in our Milanese hotel got us excited about our posh hotel in Switzerland, so we’ll be glad to board our train tomorrow morning and say a fond farewell to Italy and a warm Guten tag to Switzerland.

Sunday, 6/30

Early to rise and eager to be on our way, we wished Greg a happy birthday!  As with most of Greg’s birthdays, he is glad to celebrate with a travel day.  He would be excited when we cross the border and his first second language, German, is spoken.  But first we had to get out of Italy and standing in our way today was a slight train delay.  We were seated and ready to roll in our first compartment of the trip, when a ruckus erupted in the train hallway. It was hard to tell what exactly was happening because the argument was in Italian.  A well-dressed man repeatedly threatened to call the police and attempted to hold onto a young woman by the wrist, it seemed she had attempted to take his ticket.  She cried and whined melodramatically and insisted she would call the police herself but as she faked the call he insisted angrily that he was going to call them and his friend left the train to get help.  At this point, she lifted up her shirt to show him what she proclaimed was a pregnant belly but we are not sure if she was really with child or just bloated.  In the process of lifting her shirt, Joyce swears she exposed her breasts to him as well, but all I saw was a black bra.  By this point Greg had gone to get help, but the thieving woman continued her show, she pretended to faint and convulse.  She fluttered her eyes like she was having a fit; she was not a good actress. She made half-hearted retching noises and the man who had gotten robbed by her at which point I think he was so grossed out and exhausted by the ordeal he released her and she left the train.  Then finally the police showed up.  They had missed the whole show but apparently had caught her off the train and brought the gentlemen back to the platform to identify her.  What an education Joyce is getting on this trip!  

Once we were rolling we had beautiful view of Lake Como and before you knew it we saw our first Swiss flag. Lake Lugano came next and then a wonderland of glorious views.  Alone in our compartment as the Milanese trio who shared it with us got off at Lugano, we pointed out sight after sight to one another.  “Another waterfall!” we proclaimed. “Another steeple,” we declared.  “More pine trees,” we announced. “Alpine cottages,” we muttered.  There were too many glorious sights to report them all, so we just stared in blissful state out the window. As our train clung to cliff walls and soared over bridges with infinite valleys below, we praised the  Swiss engineering that took us safely through this pristine but precarious mountain scape.

When we arrived in Lucerne, we headed to the tourist information office to find out what to do about exchanging Euro for CHF (Swiss francs) and how to use the bus to get to our hotel.  We were issued three all-day passes for the bus and an explanation that we could pay in Euro most places but they would give us change in CHF and they won’t take euro coins, only bills.  Full of knowledge we boarded the bus across from the train station in the direction of Meggen and ten short stops later, we saw the sign for our hotel and hopped off with our baggage. A quick exchange at the front desk and we had the key for Joyce’s room, it would be a few more minutes before our room was ready, so we decided to drop the baggage in her room and plan our next step.  All planning was derailed when she opened the door to her room and her jaw dropped. The entire wall of her room facing the lake was an unobstructed window with a pristine view of the Lake which was only a lawn’s breadth away.  We all stood and stared in awe.  We knew this was our splurge, we were spending a bit more per night than we would normally feel comfortable with because it was Greg’s birthday and though we had seen internet photos of the rooms, obviously they didn’t do them justice.  The room itself was sleek and white with an open floor plan,  padded chairs and a table sat on an area rug near the window, serving as your balcony, as the windows slid open and a glass partition that was waist high acted as your railing.  Then the huge indulgent white bed complete with down comforter was in the center of the room.  A giant immaculate bath tub and double sinks opened into the bathroom area and the toilet was the only area that had a door that closed, the only modesty permitted in the European design,  so if you wished you could have stood in your doorless shower stall and looked out at the lake view, if you didn’t mind all the crew members of the sailboats and ferries staring back in at you.  Those of us who wished our bodies to remain anonymous could simply close the curtains.  Greg and I were pleased to discover that we had a carbon copy of Joyce’s room and view, just next door.  We were hungry after traveling all day, so we ordered up some snacks from room service and opened a bottle of wine we’ve toted with us from Tuscany and sat at Joyce’s table to enjoy the view with our late lunch of smoked salmon with horseradish sour cream, arugula salad, bread and alpine cheeses.  After cleaning up a bit, we took the bus back into town to explore Lucerne.  We crossed the chapel bridge and walked along the river.  We did some window shopping but we noticed that most of the shops were closed and the city was a bit of a ghost town.  Later, at dinner, our waiter would explain that only tourists go out on Sunday nights, the locals have dinner at home so it can be a very quiet evening.  We ended up in a restaurant called Stern for dinner.  I had researched places that have local and organic produce and this one seemed to have a nice blend of tradition with modern flair.  They served their salads in tiny glass jars, almost like ball jars but they don’t have a screw on top, the lid just sits on top (I think they are called Weck jars).  A beautiful multicolored heirloom tomato salad and a potato salad with mustard vinaigrette were served with the local pike that Greg and I ordered.  Joyce had a warm vegetable salad with beets, turnips, and carrots along with her cheese croquettes.  Our desserts a traditional tiramisu and a coffee parfait also came in the tiny glass jars.  Full and sleepy we took the bus back to the hotel where Joyce bought Greg a birthday White Russian at the hotel bar.  Instead of serving it on the rocks in a short cocktail glass, like we are used to in the states, it was shaken and served, deconstructed with the cream floating on top of the vodka and Kahlua, in a martini glass.  Delicious and stylish!