First Day in Bologna

Breakfast was a treat at the Grand Majestic each morning with a formal indoor dining room, and an "outdoor" room covered with a large skylight.

As you would expect, this was the most elaborate breakfast we had experienced on the trip with a plentiful selection of fresh fruits, juices, cereals, yoghurts, pastries, Italian cold cuts and cheeses also eggs, ham and sausages; and, by far, the best cappuccino ever.  Well fortified, we set out to further explore Bologna. 

Bologna and The Grand Hotel Majestic

The FrecciaArgento is a sleek, fast train that whisked us to Bologna in less than an hour.  The ride is very smooth and the whole feel, a little surrealistic, like being on a giant bobsled with adequate plug ins for your electronic devices.  The scenery flashes by in a blur, but if you focus on a distant point, you still appreciate the Italian countryside.  We came to a gentle stop at the brand new, underground train station.  It was so new, that there was still a light layer of cement dust in places.  The best thing is that it has "aria condizionata",  blessed air conditioning.

A short taxi ride brought us to the Hotel located on via dell'Independenza, the major shopping street.  Most of Bologna's streets are lined with portico's, covered sidewalks, that protect you from the elements.  The Hotel entrance is very low key; however, once you step inside, you know you are in a very luxurious Hotel.

Our room was delightful with every luxury and decorated in a grand, old word Italian manner.

After freshening up, we set out on an initial exploration of the hotel.  The bar and lounge.

The "I Carracci Ristorante".  The name refers to the brothers who painted the ceiling.

The staircase leading from the bar to the main lobby.

We strolled down to the nearby Piazza Maggiore and then found "Trattoria Nello", just a block from the Hotel.  The taxi driver recommended "Nello" to experience real Bolegnese food.  It was fun, rustic and good and very reasonably priced.  After returning to our room and trying out the slippers with the Hotel monogram, we flopped down on our bed with Egyptian linen sheets, and slept peacefully indeed.

More Verona in the morning then off to Bologna

It was definitely more comfortable walking in the cooler morning hours.  We strolled up to the Piazza del Erbe, but ran into a wall of tourists there.  The umbrella stalls for the most part were selling souvenirs. Otherwise, it's a very attractive square.

We were tempted to come back for lunch to this restaurant right off the Piazza.

However, after some more walking, it was time to get back to the hotel, pack our bags and kill some time.  What better way than a leisurely lunch.

We had seen "Il Torcolo" last night after the opera, but it was closed.  Again, it was one of those family run affairs.  The owner, a congenial younger man, apparently does business from the first table as you enter the restaurant.  A constant stream of vendors came in, had an espresso, made the deal, and then left. The nonna's job was to fill the water bottles.  She would get a large, blue bottle from the main bar in the other room, walk across the entire restaurant to the kitchen, then return with the full bottle, deposit it in the main bar and start the whole process again.  Of course she would stop and chat with people she knew at the other tables to relieve the boredom.  I think she had stockpiled about eight bottles, was returning with the ninth, when a collective gasp went up from everyone in the room.  The men leapt to their feet, the women covered their mouths with their hands. From our perspective, all we could see of nonna was a gnarled hand still holding the blue bottle above the edge of the table with the tall centerpiece and a foot projecting laterally at the table base.  After much struggling, the men heaved nonna to her feet.  She was OK.  With almost a theatrical bow she waved to the crowd, and with a slight limp, went into the other room to add bottle number nine to her stock.

Nonna aside, we thought the restaurant was attractive with it's pale yellow walls with hand painted leaf designs.  The bar was well stocked with all manner of Italian aperitivos, liquors, and grappa.  The food was fresh and light, just the thing on a hot day.

This dish was a special standout, whole poached lobster from Sardegna with salad on top.

Afterwards, we retrieved our bags from the hotel, taxied to the Stazione Porta Nuova and boarded the FrecciaArgento high speed train to Bologna.

Verona

Verona had changed since our last visit there, not so much physically, but now geared heavily to tourists.  One of the streets had been converted to a major shopping destination with all the big name brands including Tiffany"s.  The big draw is the Arena di Verona opera festival which was celebrating it's one hundredth year.
We had tickets that night to see "Aida" by Giuseppe Verdi, which was commissioned by the ruler of Egypt to commemorate the opening of the Suez canal.  We stayed at Hotel Milano, just off of Piazza Bra and the Arena itself.  You could see the upper arches of the Arena from our window.

  

We were too early to get into the room, so we left our bags in the hotel storage and set out.  The day was brutally hot and the crush of tourists oppressive.  There was a nice looking place for lunch near the hotel called "I Tre Marchetti".  My only complaint was the excessive prices, which we realized too late.  They did sell a plate with caricatures  of famous performers at Arena di Verona; however, at 220 euro per plate, no sale.

The Arena itself is especially spectacular lit up at night.

It's also entertaining to watch the people filter in.  Dress ranged from formal in the expensive seats to whatever in the cheap seats.  We had reserved seats, but they were somewhat precarious with a slight, uneasy forward tilt.  Renting cushions helped, but they were not made for ample American buttocks.

The performance was excellent; however, it was a new production by an avant garde design group from Spain.  The costumes resembled something out of "Star Wars"; interesting, but I prefer the traditional costumes.  We got tired and left after the famous Grand March scene.  That was around 11:15.  The opera had two more acts to go and would finish at 1:15.  We strolled around Piazza Bra in the refreshing night air.  Many of the restaurants stay open very late to cater to hungry opera fans.

We found a nice place for a late night supper.  The waiter told us that, if we wanted, there was still plenty of time left after we finished eating to catch the last act.  We were asleep in the hotel by then.

Off to Verona....Maybe?

Tuesday morning, and we are up before dawn, because we catch the Freciabianco train to Verona at nine o'clock.  I had made a taxi reservation the night before, and he was there precisely at 0745.  But first, the problem of getting out of the apartment.  Massimo's instructions were:  "Just toss keys in box.  Then you are through".

This one took me a while to figure out.  Remember there are three keys to the apartment; one to open the massive door at street level that admits you to the courtyard, the second key gets you into the building.  By the way, there's a giant drainage grating you stand on while opening this door.  One fumble and your keys disappear into the Milan sewer system.  The drop box is a short flight of stairs up, opposite the elevator, aka, vertical coffin on a string.  Both of these doors slam shut behind you like prison doors, and the only way to open them is with the key, no matter whether you are inside or outside.  If we followed Massimo's instructions, we would be trapped; locked out of the apartment on the stairwell; no way to get out of the building, no way to get out of the courtyard onto the street.  Find out what happens to our hapless travelers on the next exciting episode.  (Note: I believe I changed the settings to allow comments.  If you rescue  us from the stairwell, I will send you a coupon for a free espresso at Guido's Bar in Milan.)

Last Night in Milan

Literally steps away from the apartment was a Sicilian restaurant called "13 Giungno" that I had found using Google Maps in the Brera Neighborhood.  It looked elegant on the internet, but it was even more so in person.

A plump, blondish barista acknowledged us with a chilly, "Do you have a reservation?"  I looked around, because we were the only ones in the restaurant, and as the evening progressed, it only filled to, at best, one third capacity.  Her demeanor brightened slightly when we ordered two gin on the rocks.  That may have piqued her curiosity about us, because I thought I detected a faint smile when she brought the cocktails over.  She was Russian.  She was also our waitress for the evening.  I kept desperately trying to remember the punchline to that joke that begins, "How do you warm up a plump Russian?"

When it dawned on her that we were not KGB, the Russian capacity for warmth began to show through.  We did stop short of linking arms and singing Russian songs.  I asked about the name of the restaurant.  It seems that the Sicilian owner met his wife on the 13th of June, a favorite child was born on that date, and he had some type of epiphany on that very date, hence "13 Giugno".

Highlight of the dinner was the main course pictured here.

Grilled rolls of stuffed swordfish with saffron mashed potatoes and salad.  Eugenia admired the china.

One Day in Milan

Today is Monday and I discovered  that you can see two museums for the price of one; and, on top of that, a reduction for being older than 65.  We set out walking to the Poldi Pozzoli Museum located on Via Manzoni, a major shopping street and prestigious address.  Armani's entire-block complex is here, which includes a department store, hotel and restaurant; Grand Hotel et de Milan where Giuseppe Verdi died is next door, and La Scala is just down the street.  The museum is a palazzo where the family lived in grand style with an enormous collection of art, jewelry, porcelain, armor, furniture, sculpture, frescoed walls and ceilings that required unimaginable wealth to accumulate and maintain.

Next, two-for-one tickets in hand, we marched down Via Manzoni to the Musem of La Scala Opera House.  The walk is a cacophony of sights and sounds, tourist in shorts and sandals squinting at their maps, businessmen in crisp suit and tie dodging the tourists, yellow trolley cars rattling by, swarms of motorcycles driven by all manner of people: young women in miniskirts and stiletto high heels, old women in conservative dress, men in business suits, young men in jeans and brightly colored running shoes.

The opera house itself is surprisingly low key, not the baroque birthday cake that you would imagine, but neoclassical in style.  I believe it was built when northern Italy was part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire.

Not only are there paintings and sculptures of the opera greats, but also scores written in the hand of composers such as Verdi, Mozart, Gluck, and Donizetti.  You can also go into several box seats.  Today a rehearsal of the lighting for an upcoming opera was is progress.  The director seemed to be fine tuning a giant abstract rear projection that filled the entire stage.  While we watched this unfold in the pitch dark box seat, a group of Japanese tourists tried to muscle their way in; however, I think it was too dark, and they backed off. 

Of course, you can't visit Milan without seeing the Duomo and the Galleria which are just across the street.

Now lunchtime, we went searching for Al Mercante, a restaurant I had seen on the web but hesitated to try because of the wildly different opinions of it on Trip Advisor.  Most people loved it, but ten percent said it was the worst place they had been to in Italy with the worst food and even poorer service.  Were they talking about the same restaurant?  It was located on Piazza de Mercante not far from the Duomo, an evocative square lined with medieval buildings.

 

We had a delightfully fresh seafood salad followed by cold veal with creamy tuna sauce and capers, an Italian classic.  The restaurant was filled with businessmen and women who all looked very successful. The service was impeccable.

The walk back to the apartment tired us out and we welcomed a refreshing nap.  We slept secure knowing that not even a SWAT team could penetrate that apartment door.