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.

First Night Out in Milan

We awakened from a deep sleep at dusk and got ourselves ready to go out  to dinner.  Massimo had suggested a restaurant just around the corner which had Roman style food called Volemose Bene, Osteria Romana.  This would be our first dinner in Italy, and I asked the waiter to divide each course into two portions, which he did willingly; otherwise it's too much food.  

The restaurant itself was charming, and exactly what you picture in your mind when you think of an Italian restaurant.  Local osterie like this one tend to be family-and-friend affairs, with relatives just dropping by to chat and wandering into the kitchen whenever they like.  People just pop in off the street, have an animated conversation about the menu, and then leave inexplicably; or sit down, get up and leave for an hour, then suddenly you see them back at the table eating again.  Who knows what this is all about.  There seems to be no casual conversation, just red hot, intense ones.

I can't remember exactly what we had, because their computer system could not handle the daily chef specials and every item is something different than what you actually had.  According to the bill we had thinly sliced raw bass, rigatoni alla carbonara, steak tartare, codfish Roman style, and a Shiraz wine.  In reality, we had a plate of mixed Italian coldcuts, pacheri (giant pasta tubes) with a seafood sauce, and roasted whole fish served with Roman style crisp fried baby artichokes and garnished with a fresh salad of greens and cherry tomatoes.  We walked back to the apartment and slept soundly.

 

Settling into the Apartment

Massimo was a congenial Italian man in his forties who had worked up quite a sweat.  He showed us around the apartment, which was large and in the Italian minimalist style, meaning stark, white walls, parquet floors, ultramodern lighting fixtures and a lock system that would confound Houdini.

No one could get past this door, once the key was turned and the heavy deadbolt slid all the way across and locked into place.  We felt safe.  In addition, two other keys were necessary, one to  open the heavy door at street level, which let you into a large courtyard where residents parked their cars; and another to let you into the apartment building itself.  A short flight of stairs took you to the first landing and the tuna-can-on-a-string elevator.  Whenever we stepped into the coffin like space and the door creaked close and the elevator dropped about six inches and we crossed ourselves,  we questioned whether we should start spying or just proceed with our vacation.

A nap with the air conditioning blowing on us full blast, revived our spirits.  Massimo had told us about the minimarket nearby, so I went out and stocked up on milk, fruit, yogurt and a sweet pastry for our breakfasts.

Some Sights in Bologna

Hotel in Bologna

Getting into Milan and finding Our Apartment

It's always daunting to arrive in a busy foreign airport, especially when all you want to do is go back to sleep.  The first hurdle is Customs, the long lines and expressionless customs officers who look at you like you're an insect.  Then comes the task of finding transportation to the city.  This turned out to be easy  with the Malpensa Express.  Just follow the signs "Treni" to the station inside the airport, buy a ticket for 11 euro and get on the right train.  We took the train to Stazione Cardona, one of the smoothest rides I experienced with excellent air conditioning, very important, because it was hot and humid in Milan.  Taxis were available immediately,  and the driver took us to the address I was given, an anonymous looking office building with no signage. An attendant in a glass booth assured us we were in the right place.  Following his directions we cram ourselves into a tiny elevator to the second floor and see a door marked "Hotel Solutions".  A young woman answered our knock whose name was Harissa, and yes she had our reservation and the apartment would be available at 2pm.  We left our luggage in a storage room and tested our phones.  Neither of them worked after multiple tries.  Finally, Harissa called the Verizon number for Europe and we were guided through the settings on our phones necessary for them to work in Europe.  No mention of this when we activated the phones in the US.  

Sweating, frustrated, tired and in a fog, we set out on foot to fill the long four hours until we could get into the apartment, cool off and flop exhausted on a bed.  The apartment building was two blocks away, and nearby we found a little park with a shady bench and collapsed.  Meanwhile daily life in Milan bustled all around us: a middle aged daughter pushing her mother in a wheel chair while the mother sucked on a cigarette using both hands, motor cycles, bicycles, buses, cars, people walking dogs, popping into a clothing store across the street where a sale was in progress that all of Milan seemed to know about.  Now, curious what all the fuss was about, we went in to take a look and see what we were missing.  The store, Matia, seemed stylish enough, but the prices were stunning.  Men's shirts after the 30% discount were averaging 90 to 110 euros, and the women's clothing ventured into the ridiculous.  Yet people were hauling out bags full.  Shaking our heads, we headed for the Brera district where the main art museum is located.  It was full of nice looking cafes, however, our appetites were gone.  By the time we got back to our little park, it was one thirty.  Way down the block I saw a man walking toward us struggling with a suitcase and a carryon bag.  It was mine.  A minute later, a small oriental man appeared with Eugenia'a baggage.  After a short but sweaty ride in an elevator the size of a cigar tin, Massimo showed us into the apartment.

Ciao Milano

One does get a special feeling entering the first class cabin on a transatlantic flight.  You can sense it in the other passengers too.  The seats are wide with room to almost lie flat.  And the gadgets: individual touch screens with movies, television programs, games, every type of music from hip hop to grand opera, flight tracking that shows where the plane is at any moment.  The seat control has more positions than a chiropractic chair.  Mishaps can happen when you are unfamiliar, much to the amusement of the flight crew.  A four course dinner is served with wines to match each course, which is pretty good, considering you are thirty thousand feet over the Atlantic Ocean.  The tall black lady across the aisle was determined to experience everything, preferably at the same time.  First she blew up her neck pillow and put it on, then extended the foot rest just so, up came the video screen with every game you could imagine and of course the noise canceling headphones.  Slow down for dinner?  No sir.  After the third cocktail, a bright red concoction, it was Good Night Nurse with all jets blaring.

Even though you get a nice pillow and a comforter blanket, it's difficult to really sleep.  About six hours into the flight the sun shines bright, the cabin lights come on and the cheery flight attendants are serving breakfast.  Your body, however, is not quite as cheery, because you've essentially been booted out of bed at two in the morning.  But your spirits rise when you look out the window and see the Italian Alps in all their glory.  Ciao Milano!

The Flight to Milan

Everything was going smoothly, we were on the runway ready to take off, the weather was ideal.  The captain's voice comes on the PA system and calmly says:  "I guess you all noticed that the left engine has shut down".  No, I hadn't noticed.  "Even though the weather is fine here and in Atlanta, a strong line of thunderstorms in Alabama is causing all air traffic to be routed around it and we have been placed on the bottom of the list for landing in Atlanta. We are now going to taxi to a remote corner of the Jacksonville tarmac and wait for our turn."  Captain, you must be joking.  

A half hour later, we are given permission to take off; however, now a giant clock is ticking in my head. The flight attendant cheerfully announces that we may check the Delta Airlines app using the on board WI FI for free to check our connecting flight status.  The app tells me that the flight to Milan has been delayed indefinitely and offered several alternatives in economy class involving two stops and getting us into Milan on Monday rather than Sunday morning.  Now I have visions of a disastrous chain reaction resulting in a complete meltdown of our carefully planned trip.  As usual, our landing gate was at the complete opposite end of the Airport.  Speed walking in a crazed state of mind to the nearest Sky Club for help, every person in front of us seemed to be moving in slow motion.  I spotted the Sky Club sign at the opposite end of a long moving walkway.  Eugenia had set down her bag in front of her and was gazing around chatting.  Unfortunately her bag came to an abrupt stop at the end of the walkway and a millisecond later ........ another link in the chain reaction.  A gasp went up from the people standing in line for Chick fil a sandwiches as she almost completed an Olympic worthy cartwheel in mid air.  Not bad for a woman who had broken five ribs hardly a month ago.  I ran over and got her to her feet, unwedged the bag from the walkway, and ..........she was alright after a thorough dusting.  The people at Chick fil a seemed disappointed. 

The attendant behind the Sky Club desk, an attractive black woman, studied the computer screen, looked at me quizzically, scrawled something unreadable on both boarding passes and said:  "Your flight is fine sir.  It's at the gate.  Boarding is in forty minutes."

Preparing for the Trip

A customized trip like this requires months of planning.  It is a lot of work and not to everyone's liking.  However, to me it is enjoyable, similar to completing a giant jigsaw puzzle.  The Internet is key here.  I made all airline, hotel, train, car rental and restaurant reservations using this wondrous, and at times frustrating, instrument.

Where do you start? The focus of the trip was the City of Bologna, considered the gastronomic capitol of Italy.  Here, in the Emilia-Romagna region, originated the majority of food products that we associate with the country of Italy, Parmigiano Reggiano cheese, Balsamic vinegar, Prociutto di Parma ham, Mortadella, lasagna, totellini, Bolognese ragu, to name the most well known. All were invented here and perfected over centuries. Three days were set aside for Bologna.

I use Microsoft Outlook to lay out the trip, sketching it in on the month calendar, and then, as I accumulate the reservations etc., lay out each day hour by hour.  I've found this method best utilizes precious time, because you know exactly where you are supposed to be at any given time.  Here is an example: