Roam Archives - Page 3 of 6

Roam Archives - Page 3 of 6 - Itch.world

A three-minute escape to Italy.

Tuscany, travel, medieval village, Italy, festivals, celebrations, customs, cooking, recipes, living in Italy, moving to Italy, visiting, visit, restaurants, language

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October 1, 2020 In Best Of, Roam By Nancy

Cheese made in heaven

Since I had such a memorable adventure on the Chamonix side of Mont Blanc I felt it was only fair to give the Italian side a chance so on the return trip to Italy we stopped in Courmayeur for the night. We had work to do. Largely involving cheese.

Before this trip I’d asked Edward Behr for advice about food in the Val D’Aosta. (Edward edits and publishes The Art of Eating, which is one of my favorite publications on food and wine.) One of his recommendations was that we track down a Fontina maker in the mountains. Challenge accepted.

To do so we needed to add on an additional night in Courmayeur — not a hardship as we’d landed in a nurturing, cozy, and rustic place, Maison la Saxe. The six-bedroom inn was in a rustic farmhouse from the 1700s, one of many houses in a tightly packed cluster literally in the shadow of Mont Blanc. When I say tightly packed I mean the tiny lanes between the houses are about an arm’s width across. I asked the owner, Raphael, a guy in this thirties who was born in Courmayeur, had lived all over the world, and then returned to the village to restore and run the inn, and he said they were built tightly together not for defense but warmth. It’s the kind of place where my stone shower had a window thoughtfully installed with a view of Mont Blanc.

Maison de Saxe Courmayeur

I enlisted the aid of Raphael for our Fontina search. He called a Fontina maker who invited us up the following morning. Up is a description I chose carefully. It took us 40 minutes to go just a couple of kilometers above the town of Aosta on one of the curviest roads I have ever driven. Pretty soon we were at eye level with the highest peaks and surrounded by green meadows. It was the closest to heaven I will probably every get.

Raphael had given us coordinates of where to park which was an unmarked grassy area at the top of the road. We then had to actually find the cows and cheese-makers. We asked at a tiny restaurant and were pointed to a hiking trail leading ten minutes straight up through the pastures to a small barn, the summer home of Azienda Agricola Quendoz.

The cheese maker took us into a small room with a huge copper cauldron to show us how it’s done. The cheese maker was originally from Morocco and had come to this spot, fallen in love with it, and moved here to take care of the cows and make cheese, more than a decade before. I can see the appeal of this life.

Fontina cheese copper cauldron

True Fontina comes only from here. To be recognized as “Fontina” (which has DOP — protected designation of origin — status from the EU) the milk has to come from red-pied Valdostana cows who graze only on these mountain grasses. They are milked twice a day and the cheese is made twice a day as each batch has to be from a single milking. The milk is heated in large copper cauldrons, enzymes and rennet are added to produce curds, the cheese is separated and drained, and pressed into a wheel-shaped molds. It’s brined in salt for two months and then set aside to age for three more months, frequently turned and salted. We tried the just ready Fontina along with a much more aged version and they were complex and interesting, not at all like the boring cheeses marketed as Fontina from other countries. This was nutty and buttery and wonderful.

Then on the way back down we got to meet some of the girls.

I wanted to write this article this not because I thought you needed to become Fontina aware, but more because I wanted to share this place of beauty and peace and a glimpse into a different way of life.

Trip notes:

If you are ever in Aosta but don’t have time to make it up the hill Raphael also pointed us to a small cheese shop downtown with a surprisingly large selection and a big cheese cellar in their basement (photo below) called Erbavoglio Antica Latteria. They put together a delicious tasting for us and looks like I can also order from them. I see more Fontina in my future.

Ed Behr also recommended Salumeria Bertolin in Arnad, just as you enter Valle d’Aosta. I stopped on my way to France and loved it. A wide variety of mountain salumi and delicious tasting board. I was fascinated by one that looked like a salumi but was made from beets. When life gives you beets…

September 22, 2020 In Best Of, Roam By Nancy

Smells like death

I thought that after I was rescued by helicopter on Mt. Blanc my adventures were over, but I was wrong.

The next day I left my cozy hotel in Chamonix and drove to a place I’d found to stay outside of Vézelay, in Burgundy. I’d chosen it quickly and pretty much randomly. Exterior looked impressive online, it was well-positioned for my final sprint into Paris, on the edge of a huge national forest, not too expensive, and oddly it had rooms available on the last weekend of summer break — a major time for travel for the French.

To get to the hotel I drove through some truly beautiful countryside. Rolling hills of cut hay, old trees, tiny stone villages, small rushing rivers, and white cows in green fields. I get to the Château d’Island and it is as stunning as the pictures. The parking lot was empty except for one other car when I arrived. After a few minutes of standing in the parking lot an older man came out and led me to the base of a staircase in a tower. A woman came out, and instead brought me into the bar which was clearly never used and had me write my name and the date on a slip of paper. No ID or credit card required.

She led me to another staircase and up three flights of stairs to a room in the attic. It was then that I started to notice the smell. It was similar to the scent of a grandparent’s house that had been shut up for a long time, but like there had been generations and generations of grandparents who feared fresh air and replacing any furniture or upholstery. It smelled like death.

I loved my room, tucked into the corner of the attic, with an amazing array of beams, including one that grew out of the middle of the top of the mattress. There was a dormer window set near the floor with a wide sill where you could sit, touch the roof tiles, and gaze over the gables and gardens.

The woman then showed me around the rest of the house, including a salon that had original paintings from the 1400s, when the place was built, and the breakfast room with a fireplace almost tall enough to walk into, topped with copper. It was all stunning. It felt somehow naked — like nothing had been touched in centuries. An endangered species of place before it gets Relais-et-Châteaued. I was in heaven.

I left to go a few miles into Vézelay for dinner and when I returned I drove right past the hotel by mistake. It was easy to do this because the whole place was dark. Really dark. I parked, now the only car in the lot. They didn’t mention how I should get in after hours so I was relieved to see that the door to the tower was wide open, lit only by a couple of glowing green nightlights.

I get to the room, lock the door, open the window to get some fresh air, and get ready to go to sleep, placing extra pillows around the beam that’s even with my head in the middle of the bed in case I roll over quickly in my sleep.

All went well till the bat flew in.

When I first heard the loud rustling noise I thought a rat had come along the gutter and hopped into my open window. I was relieved when I turned on the light and saw it was just a bat. I pulled the covers over my head and tried to go back to sleep which turned out to be impossible because I’d hear the whoosh of flight and feel the lightest puff of air as the bat flew close over my head about every half hour. The problem was in the forest of beams in the tall peaked ceiling there was no way to tell whether it had left or was still in the room. And the window where he’d come in was near the floor and small. After several hours awake I got an ingenious idea, or at least it seemed so at the time. I turned on my iPhone flashlight and placed it outside on the roof, shining up, hoping it would attract bugs, which would attract the bat. I don’t know if this worked, or exhaustion took over, but I finally did get back to sleep for a couple hours.

The interesting thing is that after my Paris stay, when I am making the return road trip back to Italy with two friends, we book an overnight at a hotel in prime Burgundy territory, right outside Beaune. It is lovely, we have one of the best meals I’ve had in forever, sleep in comfortable, well-appointed rooms that are clean and don’t smell of death. And it is uninteresting and soulless. I realize my friends and I need to backtrack about an hour and a half to return to the Château de la Mort. Fortunately my friends are really good sports and trust me. No other guests were there when we arrived and the hostess showed us every room — quite the endeavour as it involved a huge mass of keys and considerable time to lock and unlock each door. Each was completely different and widely varied, as did the level of the château’s unique smell.

One of our favorite moments occurs over our two breakfasts. They have classical music playing from a station with a considerable amount of static over speakers that must have been from the 1970s. When this aria came on my friend had to capture it. We decided it was a fitting soundtrack of the place.

Although my friends were definitely aware of the rough edges, I interviewed them last night over some wine and captured their stream of consciousness memories. “A vanishing place that will never be again.” “There was no ‘show’. Most hotels feel like they are putting on a show, but not here.” “A privilege to see the unrenovated place before it is renovated beyond redemption.” “Unusually relaxed — more relaxing than being at a spa.” “Like time travel. My room had a desk and chair in front of the full length window set up to write letters.” “No pretension. It’s pure, not packaged for tourists.” And my personal favorite — “weird as shit”.

Trip Notes:

Château d’Island is located between the gorgeous villages of Vézelay and Avallon.

Château de Saulon is the place we stayed outside of Beaune and very near the famed Route Vins. Looks amazing on the homepage picture, but marred on the other side by the addition of an glass eating area and glass elevator. However their farm to table restaurant is worth a trip to Burgundy by itself.

Lunch at Olivier Leflaive, one of the top white wine makers in the world. We ate and tasted a about 10 glasses (between us all) of their wines. We tried two Puligny-Montrachet 1er Crus were from the same row of grapes in the same field, but one bottle was from the top of the rolling hill (a 2015 Champ Gains) and another bottle was from the less-arid bottom (a 2015 Renferts). And they tasted completely different. We also had a glass of a wine from the same field which is available only in the restaurant because so few bottles are made and it was breathtaking. For you wine buffs, just to brag, it was their Les Pucelles wine from 2011.

I’m going to do another Itch on Vézelay and Avallon because they are that good.

August 26, 2020 In Best Of, Roam By Nancy

My Mt. Blanc helicopter rescue

I drove Sebastian to the airport last Monday to fly back to London for school. Saying goodbye was even harder than usual as I don’t know when or where I will be able to see either kid next. I feel like a mother saying goodbye to a child about get in a covered wagon and go far into the wilds. Like Michigan.

Maybe a road trip to Paris would head off any incoming gloom. John can’t come with me as he’s been having back pain so I set out by myself with adventure in my heart and a rallying cry of “you never know what will happen next” on my lips. God, if he exists, heard me. I do not use the “he” pronoun lightly as I now am quite sure that the long held presumption that God is a man is true and that he decided that I need to be taught a lesson or two as I chose to set out on my own to have fun while my husband is lying on ice back at home.

My trip begins, complete with coronavirus protective protocols, routes, and equipment. My first night out is in Chamonix, at a really lovely inn. After a killer breakfast I ask the woman at the desk for good day hike ideas. I had already done research online and what she said matched what I’d found. So far I am adulting very impressively. Amazing views of Mt. Blanc, a great 6 hour or so hike, what could go wrong?

I set off, on my own, with my half-liter, eco-friendly bottle of water in hand. I start to get a bit concerned as the hike starts out paralleling a gravity-powered roller coaster, complete with upside down parts.

Chamonix trail to Montenvers

I keep climbing through woods. My Apple watch tells me I’ve climbed 75 flights of stairs in a mile and a half. A sign says is an hour more to the top. At this point I am being insufferable on the family group chat, sending a constant stream of statistics about my climb and distance. I am unstoppable. Some might even say smug.

I reach the top of the rail line at Montenvers, where I plan to rest and eat but there are long lines for the restaurant and to buy water and sandwiches. I fill my little bottle in the bathroom and hit the trail again as this part is supposed to be an “easy and pleasant” walk along the ridge to the Plan De L’Aiguille where I can catch the funicular back down.

trail with mers de glace

But when I get to a fork in the trail I take the “advised route” going via “Le Signal” which turns out to be a another summit. With all that implies. Off I go having no idea that I had hours more climbing ahead of me.

I arrive at the Le Signal and feel horrible. I realize that I don’t have enough water and haven’t had anything of substance to eat all day. I find myself “resting” on the trail every hundred meters or so, occasionally even laying flat on the trail to keep from getting dizzy.

Le Signal summit

John and I have been talking and he has been tracking my location while looking at Google satellite images. He realizes I am in big trouble. I am insisting that I can go the next 2km of hard walking to get to the funicular down. He tells me to stay where I am and he calls the hotel to get the rescue helicopter.

The rescue team calls me immediately and conferences in a doctor to hear my tale of woe. He authorizes the rescue, they send me a text that I respond to that locates my exact position, and tell me that they will be there in ten minutes. And that I should put anything that can possibly fly away in hurricane force winds away in a bag.

If you squint you can see Chamonix at the bottom where my “walk” started.

I am flat on the trial, too dizzy to move, when I hear the “helo” as they referred to it lovingly several times on the call. I sit up and hold my arms in a y-shape as instructed, wondering where the hell they are going to land as the terrain is very steep. Doesn’t faze them. They hover the thing with one leg about six inches off the narrow trail and the other hanging in space. Three very cute, buff dudes hop off. One grabs me by the back of the neck like a bad puppy, forces by head down, and throws me into the helicopter. We are down in ten minutes.

Part of the reason I didn’t want to call is that I was worried about cost and that I’d probably have to spend a night or two in a hospital for observation. But no. We arrive at the bottom, get out, they take my ID, inform me that it’s all paid by the French government, and tell me to go to the nearest bus stop that is about a kilometer away to get back to town. They are clearly unimpressed by my saga. I wander away stunned. I arrive back in Chamonix and start drinking water. Liters and liters of water. I shower and my fingers are unrecognizable; they are indented like the proverbial prune. I keep drinking. 24 hours later I finally have to pee.

So, don’t hike without enough water.

Next Itch will be my following night in the chateau that smells like death with my friend the bat. Remind me again why I wanted an adventure?

June 28, 2020 In Best Of, Roam By Nancy

Secrets from a yacht

What do people lucky enough to be on a yacht discover about the Italian coast that mere mortals like me can’t get to — what fishing villages (that are actually still fishing villages), deserted coves, and hidden beaches does Italy have to offer to those on a boat?

My son, Sebastian, just found out. He was invited to join a friend and his family for a two-week sail down the coast from Naples, around the Amalfi Coast, and then over to the Aeolian Islands off Sicily. One of his favorite places of all was a tiny fishing village called Corricella on the island of Procida. Luckily, to visit Corricella a yacht is not required. With the help of a car ferry it’s possible to get there from Naples, which is why I wanted to share this hot tip and want to go myself this fall.

The island of Procida is the smaller and less-visited cousin of the touristy Ischia, which is right next door. (Ischia has had quite the boom after the publication of Elena Ferrante’s Neapolitan Novels.) The port of Procida is busy and overrun but if you can get to the other side of the island to the village of Corricella a different world awaits. It’s an ancient settlement (the name comes from the Greek kora Cale or “nice neighborhood”) — such a nice neighborhood that it was used for the waterfront scenes in the movie Il Postino. This part of the world has been at the crossroads of invasion for millenium so the houses are all constructed with steep stairs leading to the front doors to make it easier to defend. The houses are painted a vivid range of different colors. It’s a working fishing village with a small harbor filled with mostly wooden boats with a few restaurants along a quai. When Sebastian went they ate alongside local fishermen and their families. The maze of tiny streets are steep and accessible only on foot. The few cars that he saw had permanently removed their side mirrors and had huge scrapes along both sides. There’s a sagging ruin of a fortress on a cliff and an old church at the top. I’m all in.

The most unusual thing that happened on Sebastian’s trip was off a remote island in the Aeolians. They were moored, having lunch, when an unusual man approached them in a rowboat and asked to speak to the captain. He was dressed in torn up, old clothes, had unkempt hair, and spoke in the strongest of dialects. The captain talked with him for a moment, went below to get a bottle of very nice champagne, hopped into the rowboat, and they headed off. He returned a couple of hours later. Turns out this guy has lived in a cave, year round, on a deserted island for over twenty years. He knew the previous captain who had told his replacement to be on the lookout for him. (He’s apparently well-known by many captains.) The captain was taken into a cave which was covered by the man’s writings on the walls and ceiling. The captain had a bit of a struggle following his stories in dialect but it was clear that he referred to other people as “you humans.” And he drank almost the whole bottle of champagne.

Sebastian’s amazing experience is not just available to friends of the family. The family’s yacht is available for charter, and two other spectacular properties, one in the Tyrol, and the other are the Pope’s apartments wrapping the Sant’Agnese in Agone church overlooking Piazza Navona in Rome are available to rent. More details at San Lorenzo Lodges.

In case you need six seconds of dolphins playing in the wake here you go:

January 27, 2020 In Best Of, Roam By Nancy

Paris discoveries

I deeply love Paris and know it pretty well. On my way back to California I stopped for a few days and found a few new (to me) treasures I have to share.

Best place to have tea in a tub: Le Pavillon des Canaux

A friend insisted we go to a cafe in an old canal master’s house overlooking the canals and locks of the Bassin de la Villette.

In addition to deciding what artisanal coffee, tea, pastry or soup you want you also have to figure out whether you want to take your snack to a bathtub, bedroom, kitchen, or living room. In addition to being a cafe they also show films and host community events.

The cafe, called Le Pavillon des Canaux, is an important stop to know about when exploring the Parisian canal system and visiting the bassin, which is the largest lake in Paris. Boats are rentable in the summer, and in August the quai turns into one of the beaches for Paris plages.

But even on a cold winter day the place was charming. The only downside was the number of people working on computers but according to their website they also have times that are declared sans laptops. It’s in the 19th arrondissement.

Julia Child’s favorite Paris restaurant: Chez Georges

After my haircut (more below) I met John at Chez Georges, a classic French bistro where Julia Child had the legendary sole meunière that set her on her path. We went for lunch, which I’d highly suggest, as we were the only Americans in the restaurant (sounds like at dinner there are more tourists, although one article I read mentioned seeing Wes Anderson and Tilda Swinton dining together which wouldn’t bum me out too much even if they aren’t Parisians.) I would have given a lot to know identities of the occupants of the next table by the window. For at least 20 minutes before they arrived the waiters were busy preparing — opening a bottle of wine to breathe, setting out plates of charcuterie and radishes, and just the right bottled water. The patrons finally arrived, were seated, and were the only ones in the very busy place the maître d‘ wished a bon dejeuner tableside.

The people watching was hours of fun. Food was traditional but excellent. It’s a right near Place des Victoires.

Hero hairdresser: David Mallett

I’ve now had my haircut by David Mallet twice and I’m sooo happy. He has a salon near Palais Royale, one in the hotel George V, and one in New York. He’s Australian by birth, raised in Naples, has lived in Paris for years, is a vegan, and has a salon filled with taxidermy. What else could you wish for? Anthony, the colorist is great too.

Handmade porcelain lampshades: Alix D. Reynis

On one of my favorite streets, rue Jacob, Alix D. Reynis makes beautiful porcelain lampshades, jewelry, and white bowls and dishes. After a couple of years on the hunt we found our lights for over the dining room table. Welcome home little ones.

January 12, 2020 In Best Of, Roam By Nancy

Genoa: from prostitutes to palaces

Genoa, or Genova to the Italians, was once a big deal city although it is a bit of an afterthought today. Italy’s sixth-largest city, and a major EU port, Genova has been all about the sea since its founding in the sixth-century B.C. by Phoenician and Etruscan sailors. It was an important Roman port, and a crucial supplier of goods and transport for the crusades during the 12th century, making it one of the wealthiest and most powerful cities in the world. The striped Cathedral of San Lorenzo is a testament to Genova’s past glory.

Always vying for dominance with Venice and Pisa, it also was under the control of the French and the Austrians at various points. It feels a bit dark, looming, and watching for danger, which is probably partially due to its geography. It’s wedged in a narrow band of flat land between the sea and the Apennine mountains 19 miles long. Even coming from San Francisco the vertical nature of the town is intimidating. It’s partially built on hills that are disorientingly steep. In some buildings you enter on street level, climb up four stories of high-ceilinged palazzo splendor, and exit the backside of the same building, again on street level.

The port is highly industrial and the part that isn’t has been refurbished by native son Renzo Piano into what, to me, is a less interesting version of Pier 39. But across the busy road paralleling the port is one of the most memorable and evocative maze of pedestrian streets I’ve seen since the back alleys of Fez and Marrakech.

Because the topography offered little land to build on it is medieval high-density living. Even with Google Maps it’s easy to get lost in the narrow alleys which are framed by six and seven story medieval buildings casting the ground level in constant nighttime. A half block away from some of the trendiest boutiques prostitutes abound—it is, and always has been, a seaport after all. Because of the narrow streets the prostitution is a bit more up close and personal than what I’m used to seeing occasionally. I literally had to squeeze past a woman leading her client by the hand into a building when I walking by in the other direction.

Slightly above the medieval warren is a grand pedestrian street, Via Garibaldi, lined by huge palaces. Created in the 16th century it is now a UNESCO World Heritage site. These palazzos are now mostly museums with a few nice pieces including Paganini’s famous “Il Cannone” violin—and surprisingly, two of his guitars.

One of the things I liked about the city is that there are a lot of 20 and 30-somethings due to the spillover of economic growth from Milan. It has a youth energy that’s often missing in Italian cities.

We found a neighborhood wine bar in the historic section notable not for its wine or food but because it’s a warm gathering place. The wine is actually all pretty fresh off the vine and not yet in a bottle but in huge vats. One local, when asked by the bartender which wine she wanted replied “The 1€ one.”

They don’t serve any food until after six when a woman arrives with freshly-baked focaccia from a local bakery. Everyone applauded when she arrived. They serve the fresh focaccia with simple salumi and cheese and it was delicious.

We sat next to a charming, nearly toothless, ancient, bedraggled guy who was clearly a regular. He couldn’t stop petting Lola and told us at length about his dog. The rest of the crowd were 20-somethings and young families (with some awesome dogs) all of whom knew each other. Best of all was the bill. Complete dinner with two glasses of wine each, 16.50€. We then splurged and bought two unmarked bottles to take home for 3€. This charmer is called Mescite and I’d run back in a heartbeat.

Nearby on the Via Garibaldi there is a designer homeware store on the second floor of one of the palaces called Via Garibaldi 12. The architecture of the store itself is stunning, but in additional they have an eclectic and very fancy mix of furniture, tableware, and home accessories. When we were in with Lola their small dog was running around playing with her, along with a young grandson, and the owners didn’t seem the least bit concerned, even when everyone was running around the large, leather, one-of-a-kind sofa designed by Zaha Hadid (price upon request…) or the wall of hand blown glass vases—you can see both below.

We stayed at a central, but tired hotel, Hotel Bristol Palace. Room was huge and the hotel has a great central staircase, but it didn’t charm me. Next time I will stay at a hotel we found on our wanderings in the medieval sector, Palazzo Grillo.

It looks wonderful and it’s next to an enchanting church, Chiesa Santa Maria delle Vigne (the monks grew grapes in the cloister during the middle ages). When we passed the cloisters had been paved over and were being used as a soccer area for kids.

The pesto we had was wonderful, but with a distinctly different flavor and texture than pesto I’ve had elsewhere. It’s so emulsified that it’s creamier and less dark. To get the right texture you will clearly need one of these: A Pestobene. You gotta see this baby in action.

There’s a nice covered market, the Mercato Orientale. I’ve never been to a farmer’s market that sells white truffles before. Not to mention the stand specializing in tripe.

One of our favorite things was a walk along the sea to the small fishing village of Boccadasse (more in an earlier Itch article).

Don’t miss Il Profumo for gelato, which is not to be confused with the new official “logo fragrance” of Genova made by Euthalia and containing a mixture of basil, marjoram, thyme, bergamot, rosemary, coriander, and lavender. It was dispensed throughout the city in diffusers from Sept. 12 through the 13th of October of last year. Back to the gelato, Profumo was named the best gelato in Italy, according to the Italian food authorities at Gambero Rosso, and the owner/maker is a delight.

December 28, 2019 In Best Of, Roam By Nancy

Venice to Vienna on the Nightjet: what the NYTimes got wrong

I’m shockingly on trend this week having traveled from Venice to Vienna on the Nightjet, an overnight train service offered by the Austrian railway ÖBB, three days before the New York Times wrote an article about the same route and train. (ÖBB’s PR department has been working overtime — their sleeper train also popped up in a Bloomberg article.) The NYTimes article featured bright-eyed travelers arriving in Venice in the morning after their all-night journey feeling rested and refreshed. I would have liked to meet those people.

I have a bit of a thing about overnight trains which has deepened with the Greta-induced “flight shaming” trend. My journeys have ranged from the sitting upright on a night train across Spain in a compartment filled with soldiers (Eurail pass days) to a rather lovely single room with a bed and bath on a night train from Vienna to Paris years ago. I was looking forward to sharing a sleeper train experience with Donella and Sebastian.

When John was out of town — he’s less than enthusiastic about the overnight train concept — I got the idea that the kids and I, plus Lola the dog, would take a pre-holiday jaunt to Vienna to look at Christmas markets and take the Nightjet. Venice to Vienna sounded nicely alliterative so we packed up the car, drove to Venice, had dinner in one of our favorite places (a Jewish restaurant called Gam Gam), and boarded the Nightjet which leaves at 9:10. We were ready for adventure.

I’d booked a cabin for three people, but it would have been tight for one. The three of us stood in the corridor for a few minutes trying to figure out how we could physically fit in the space with our one small suitcase each and the dog. One at a time we squeezed in sideways between the sink and the ladder, passing bags over our heads, and scrambled to our bunks. The three couchette-type beds were set up one over the other. Sebastian took the top, which was really high up and needed a ladder to access. This gave him a bit of room to stash stuff over the top of the sink cabinet as well as a spot to stretch his legs. I took the middle, which also needed a ladder to get to, and Donella and Lola took the bottom. There wasn’t enough room to sit upright in the bunks so all of us assumed semi-prone positions as we negotiated over the order in which we’d get our stuff and use the sink in our cabin.

The bunks did come with sheets, a little duvet, and the thinnest and smallest pillow I’ve ever seen. And there was a breakfast menu to fill out with choices of bread, cheese, ham, yogurt, and a few other options.

We finally turned out the lights to settle in. But after five minutes they turned back on by themselves for about an hour until the staff could figure out the problem. Darkness came and we finally rolled over to go to sleep. At least some of us did. Our neighbors on both sides were very talkative and we could hear every word through the thin walls. They finally quieted down. And then around two in the morning the lights came back on by themselves.

Seemed like the higher the elevation of the bunk the sounder the sleep. Despite everything Sebastian went right to sleep and woke up the next morning rested. On the bottom Donella and Lola spent the whole night sleepless. Lola seemed to share John’s security concerns despite the fact that our door had a hotel-style key and several locks, and she was wide awake guarding the pack. Donella heroically prevented her from disturbing anyone else. I was literally, and experientially, somewhere in the middle.

They pick a slow route for night trains so that the times are more convenient, leaving at 9pm and getting in Vienna around 8am, so there was plenty of time to relax and sleep. (The Caledonian Sleeper from London, which I’ve also taken, even pulls to a side track and stops for several hours a night to avoid arriving in Edinburgh in the wee hours of the morning.)

John joined us a day later in Vienna from the States and we all returned to Venice on Christmas Eve taking ÖBB’s daytime express train which was a seven and a half hour trip.

Pros and cons? If I were to do it over again I’d book more cabins — three in one cabin was too many and it would be nice not to have the middle bunk — if they were available. I’d put essentials in an easier to get to place than my suitcase, which was almost impossible to access in such a tiny space. I’d bring my own pillow and much better ear plugs than the ones they provided. And I’d probably not bring Lola. Bottom line? Mid-range cabin sleeper trains are still a bit rough.

I enjoyed the speedy day train on the return more because the scenery in Austria was gorgeous which we missed on the sleeper train. We’d also provisioned an epic picnic in Vienna which made the middle of the trip really nurturing.

But despite all the downsides there is still something romantic and alluring about a night train. Even had a crazy idea of going from Finland to Sicily by sleeper train. But I think I’d have to get fresh traveling companions.

December 8, 2019 In Best Of, Roam By Nancy

Gift inspirations: potions and lotions from monks

Last week I made the trek up into the mountains to the Monastery of Camaldoli to buy gifts at the Antica Farmacia dei Monaci Camaldolesi, or the Ancient Pharmacy of the Monks. Usually “ancient” can be a bit of an exaggeration but I think its use is justified in this case as they have been making healing medicine at this place since May 1048. A couple of monks, Guido and Pietro, rented some land (in perpetuity) located right outside the monastery to raise herbs for healing treatments for the newly established pilgrim hospital. The monks have been at it ever since. And they have quite the collections of books of botany and herbal recipes from over the years.

This place feels like it is on another planet. I visited once before for Itch (and wrote about the funny coincidence of this monastery having satellites in Big Sur and Berkeley) and both times I have visited it has been very misty and mysterious.

The monastery and the hermitage, which is a few miles further up the hill and deeper into the woods, are located in the Casentino Forest, one of the largest forested tracks in Europe famous for deer, wild boar, and wolves. The sounds of rushing water are everywhere and the smell of pine and clean air wonderful.

The products I’ve tried have been really good — from the kinda-life-changing foot cream to the teas to the soaps — and I love what they make because of the history, but also because I am becoming more and more aware of the thin thread by which so much of Italian “maker” heritage hangs. The artisans and small businesses creating so much of what Italy is known for are finding it harder to thrive, or to exist at all, in the face of global competition and the relentless drive towards lower prices (and quality). I love supporting this kind of enterprise, where things are still made locally, and not in a huge factory overseas and then a label slapped on.

The Farmacia ships worldwide, and has a 10% discount available on checkout. I found their US shipping prices a bit high so also found another site with lower shipping rates to the US, but not as full a range of Camaldoli products.

A couple of products I have that would make lovely presents or stocking stuffers:

— The Foot Cream. Visitors to the house roll their eyes when I insist that they try this before bed. And then they steal mine. Get your own.

— Herbal Tisane Tea. I am sipping on #3 at the moment, which is a delicious mix of chamomile, lemon balm, and other mysterious things. It’s soothing but not boring.

— Shampoos. I’ve tried a variety of these and liked them all.

They offer a range of other products I want to try from toothpaste to arnica gel to honey to colognes, an increasing amount organic. I love the packaging and labels as well.

December 1, 2019 In Best Of, Roam By Nancy

Genoa sneak peek: Boccadasse

It’s always a bit of a challenge to figure out the appropriate thing to do for Thanksgiving when living outside the US. Since it is kind of a non-event for everyone around us (and clients are otherwise occupied) John and I decided to a road trip and explore Genoa (Genova) for a couple of days. Complicated, surprising, unexpected place and a fuller report coming soon to Itch.

I wanted to give you a sneak peek from a morning walk we did along the Corso Italia which leads from central Genoa along the coast. After about an hour of walking we passed by a small fishing village called Boccadasse where we had coffee and focaccia and watched the surprisingly large waves crash right next to us. Wanted to share the moment.

December 1, 2019 In Best Of, Roam By Nancy

Holiday gift inspirations: wearable history

As I described in a previous Itch, my saga to find an antique Roman coin ring has been achieved after many years of searching. But when I was thinking of special things I could share with you that would make great gifts, and easily ship outside of Italy, I decided to go back to the ring’s source and ask the owner what items he has at the moment that he particularly loves—it varies all the time as all pieces are one of a kind. The small store Serra, in Rome, mainly has beautiful china, silver, and crystal, but Alessandro (the fourth generation of the family to have the store) has a passion for history and antique coins and intaglio which he makes into jewelry. He speaks excellent English, can tell you the history of everything he sells, and the authenticity is guaranteed. And he is kindly offering Itch readers a 10% discount.

Something I learned from Alessandro while researching this article is that that making jewelry from coins and intaglio is far more ancient than I’d realized. As Alessandro wrote:

“The custom of encrusting coins to create jewelry is extremely ancient; its origins are to be found in the Greek world and the most widespread was in Rome between the first and third centuries AD. The Romans attributed a talismanic and amuletic power to the jewels thus made, giving the coin a much more complex task than that for which it was minted. Glyptics, or intaglio, are the “minute but not lesser” art of engraving precious and semi-precious stones (but also glass pastes). In Roman times they were widely used for rings, for men or women, necklaces, bracelets and earrings. The engraved stones were worked by skilled engravers — the themes of the figures were chosen by the customers or left to the aesthetic sense of the artist. Almost always the choice was of mythological or allegorical subjects. Still today there is a flourishing market of these ancient stones, which over time have been found because they were often removed and thrown away by those seeking only gold and silver, as by the Barbarians in the days of the invasions.”

Here are a few of Alessandro’s favorite things in the store at the moment. He, of course, has a much wider variety available. To purchase you can contact Alessandro directly at info@serra-roma.it. (I am passing this along because I love this jewelry … no commission.)

Silver ring with a Roman coin of a Gorgon DRACHM – NEAPOLIS (411-348 B.C.). Because of their legendary and powerful gaze that could turn one to stone, images of the Gorgons were put upon objects and buildings for protection. Reverse is Artemis. She was the Hellenic goddess of the hunt, wild animals, wilderness, childbirth, virginity and protector of young girls, bringing and relieving disease in women; she often was depicted as a huntress carrying a bow and arrows. € 670,00 + € 50,00 shipping with insurance (and don’t forget to ask for the 10% discount.)

Gilded silver earrings with original Roman coins depicting Julia Mamea and Emperor Septimius Severus. -Coin 1: Denarius_Front: IVLIA MAMAEA, draped and diademated bust right. JVLIA MAMAEA (180-235 AC). She was the nephew of the emperor Septimius Severus—guy on on the other coin. -Coin 2: Denarius_Front: SEVERVS PIVS AVG. Head right. LVCIVS SEPTIMIVS SEVERVS ( 193-211 A.D.). Born in A.D. 146 at Leptis Magna in Africa, Severus was a soldier of outstanding ability, holding a series of increasingly important commands until, at the death of Commodus, he was governor of Upper Pannonia. Severus was saluted as emperor by the troops at Carnantum. He spent much of his reign in campaigning in different parts of the Empire and also visiting many of the provinces. He died at York on February 4th, A.D. 211. € 890,00 + € 50 shipping with insurance (before 10% Itch discount.)

Gold ring with a Roman intaglio (Ist century A.D. – engraved cornelian) depicting two winged Nike facing each other. Nike is the goddess of strength, speed and victory. €2.550,00 + €50 shipping including insurance (before 10% Itch discount.)

Silver and leather bracelet with original Roman coin depicting Apollo. Denarius_ Front: Laureated head of Apollo. PANSA behind. Apollo is the symbol of male beauty, god of music, art, knowledge, illness resolution, archery and the sun. He is always depicted as a beautiful man with the perfect body form. Rear: C. VIBIUS C. Minerva who leads a quadriga at a gallop. Minerva was the Roman goddess of wisdom and strategic warfare and the sponsor of arts and trade. € 590,00 + € 50,00 shipping with insurance. (Before 10% discount.)