Venezia!

Perhaps our most picturesque day trip so far happened this week.  We took the high speed train to Venice to get up-close and personal with the floating city. It's amazing how the train system is so strict, yet so chaotic. We boarded the train and somehow ended up sitting in the beverage car on crusty-yellow bar seats the entire 2 hours. People sitting in other peoples assigned seats, some even in the wrong car/class. The train supervisors were a mess themselves, all they really cared about was sitting down and eating a snack (in 1st class seats, of course). We were glad to finally get to Venice, get off the train and see water!

Venice is a crazy maze of winding canals, sidewalks and alleyways that keeps most map-toting tourists frustrated for at least twenty percent of their visit here. We thought we knew exactly where we were going, but we are fools. Enter Google Maps and the phone equipped with the GPS.

Watching the gondola rides was fun, but once we saw the prices (100euros/140dollars) we decided that it was not for us. Besides, with dozens of low bridges and narrow canals covered in tourists and their huge lenses, nobody would call a gondola ride private or romantic. 

We began on the Grand Canal, a fiasco of water taxis, gondolas and ferries, all jockeying for position. It was interesting to see life on the water, it's almost what we would call a freeway. From there, we ventured deep into the heart of the labyrinth, and discovered a great pizza shop, making pies as large as patio table tops.  Sitting on the canal, it was easy to see why this city gets so crowded.  There's nothing like it.  

After lunch, we made our way to the main sights; St. Maria Basilica, St. Mark's Square, that really tall, brick tower (name unknown).  We saw the people in St. Mark's Square paying 1.5 euro to feed pigeons. Watching giggling tourists with pigeons clinging to every appendage was both gross and weird to be honest.  Whoever the fist salesman was to sell a tourist some day-old bread was a genius.  We weren't taking our chances with Bird Flu; so we pressed onward. 

We walked past colorful buildings of orange, yellow and red hues, the light at sunset was incredible. Both having visited Venice as kids, we never noticed the beauty in the architecture and the wonderful colors throughout the town. We are really glad we got to spend a day here and hopefully we will be back someday in the not so distant future.

Ciao!

Chestnut festival!

Celebrating food is something Italian just LOVE to do.  And food festivals are a great excuse to start drinking wine before 10:00 a.m. 

About 45 kilometers north of Florence lies a sleepy farming town called Marradi.  And if you live there, you grow chestnuts.  For the last 50 years, Marradi has held a festival (Sagra) for their chestnuts.  Being a chestnut cynic myself (is it a nut? a fruit? relative of the acorn?), I was wary.  But Michka's unconditional love for these bulbous treats convinced me to make the journey.

We arrived to Marradi with hordes of Italians, most with children in tow.  

As soon as the train door opened, the scent of baby wipes gave way to the smell of smoke.  And barely discernable was that (now familiar) smell of caramelized chestnut casings.  

The walk into town was quick, and once we arrived, the fun began.  Hundreds of vendors sold dozens of chestnut-themed items; everything from chestnut flan to chestnut ravioli. 

Food carts were set up throughout the sagra, and we had perhaps one of our best piedina (Italian style pita bread) of the trip; sauteed onions, pepper, fresh arugula and pecorino cheese.  

Conveniently, every vendor made wine readily available, doling out a cup for only 1 Euro. 

A local brewery was on hand (yes, the local beer thing is catching on everywhere), and their IPA was not bad.  In fact, I forced myself to taste it twice, just to make sure.

The highlight of the day came when we found the "renegade" chestnut anarchists (my nickname for them); a rowdy group of 20-somethings rocking dreadlocks and tatoos, roasting their chestnut directly over a raging fire in what amounted to an oversized bingo-hopper.  Their chestnuts tumbled and popped inside the cage, until they were on the edge of burning.  They were served steaming hot by shouting nut-handlers with soot-covered fingers (exact change was advisable).  

About 1/3 of the nuts were without shell, and had a smoky-earthy character that was different than all the other chestnuts we tried.  It's no wonder there was a frenzy every time the giant "bingo-hopper" came off the fire...

We spent the rest of our time perusing the sagra, sampling cheese, oils and finally satisfying our sweet tooth with some fresh-made chestnut brittle.  

The train ride home was a zoo, but thankfully the droves of children that accompanied us to the festival were mostly sleeping on the way back down. 

More posts coming soon!

Ciao!