An Adventure and a Sticky Door
Regular readers of this blog know that I am a devoted member of the Cleveland Orchestra Chorus (COC). One of the reasons this trip was so special to me was the timing: two weeks after I returned from Italy, the Cleveland Orchestra and Chorus would perform the Verdi Requiem in Severance Hall. Guiseppe Verdi was born and spent much of his life living and working in the part of Italy in which we would be traveling. When I asked the Cleveland Orchestra Director of Choruses, Bob Porco, if I could miss two rehearsals for a trip to Italy, he generously agreed and said that, since I would be in the area, I really should try to visit Villa Verdi in Busseto. When I realized that the Sunday we were scheduled to be in Bologna would be a free day, with no tour activities planned, I asked our tour director how to get to Villa Verdi.
With her help, and that of the hotel desk clerk and my iPhone, the Jazzman and I left the hotel before 8:00 on Sunday morning, walked two blocks to the train station, and bought round trip tickets to Busseto, with a change of trains in Fidenza. The estate is only open from 9:30-11:30am and 2:30-6:30pm. We needed to be back in Bologna by 5:00 because of dinner plans. So time was of the essence.
The Jazzman has spent his life as a conductor on freight trains (no, it's not Amtrak, and he doesn't punch tickets). I always enjoy riding on trains with him, as his career experience gives him a different perspective than the everyday passenger train rider.
The train arrived into the Bologna station right on time, we got on and found seats, and settled in for the hour-long ride to Fidenza. In Fidenza we had about ten minutes to wait for our train to Busseto. When it arrived, it was an older train. Again we found seats and watched the scenery pass, listening carefully as each station was announced in Italian. Suddenly, the voice on the speaker announced our destination station and we quickly grabbed our belongings and moved to the front of the car. When we opened the door from the car to the between-cars spot (um, I don't know the technical term) where the door should have been, there was a restroom, not a door. So we rushed forward to the end of that car to reach the door. I grabbed the door handle and pulled, and nothing happened. I tried again, then moved aside so the Jazzman could grab with his superior strength and get the door open. Alas, no door opening. And then we watched as the Busseto train station began moving away from us, out of view. Can you even imagine the sinking feeling as we realized what had happened?!
We walked into the next car and sat down, stunned at first, then trying to come up with alternate plans. Could we get off at the next station and walk back? Take a train back? Take a taxi back? The questions we needed to ask were definitely not in Rick Steves' Italian Phrase Book that was conveniently stashed in the the Jazzman's pocket. In a minute a lovely Italian woman who spoke flawless English walked up to us. She had witnessed the entire event and wondered how she could help. She went to the conductor and explained the situation to him, then came back and told us his assessment of the situation. The next station was too far away from Busseto for us to either walk or cab back. The most logical solution was for us to go on to the next big town, Cremona, where our options would be greater.
As we stopped at the next station, another passenger tried to exit from the same door we had tried, and he was also unsuccessful. As the train pulled away from the station, he was frantically signaling and then calling his friend, who was at the station to meet him, to go ahead to the next station. We no longer felt quite so incompetent!
When we got into Cremona, we immediately went to the ticket window. We determined that the next train back to Busseto would go about 2:00pm, but that would be the last train of the day. If we took that train back to explore Villa Verdi, we wouldn't be able to get back to Bologna at all that night, much less by 5:00pm for our dinner plans! The alternate was to take a bus from the Cremona station around 11:30am. We could stop in Busseto and take the train from Busseto, but because the villa was closed for lunch at that time, it would be pointless. We would take the bus back to Fidenza, then get the train back to Bologna. (Photo: Cremona train station)
Disappointment doesn't begin to describe how I felt. I wanted to launch into a chorus of "if only," but was able to just try to find something to enjoy about Cremona. The day was rainy and probably the coldest temperatures we'd felt all week. We decided to walk and try to find a caffè to pass some time. The only caffè open on a Sunday mid-morning near the train station was packed and offered only a few tables. As we exited an English-speaking young man pointed us to the main street into the city and said we'd find more places to eat there.
But remember my knee problems? In addition to being the coldest and rainiest day, it was the day when I experienced the worst knee pain of the entire trip. My shoulders were hunched to my earlobes, and I was walking very slowly. As we walked down the street, we noticed violinmakers' studios. Who knew Cremona was a Big Deal in the world of music? I obviously did not!! From Wikipedia: "The city of Cremona is especially noted for its musical history and traditions, including some of the earliest and most renowned luthiers, such as Guarneri and Stradivari and several members of the Amati family." The things one stumbles across when traveling! (Photo: Statue of Guiseppi Garibaldi in park outside the train station.)
We finally found a delightful coffee shop where we passed 45 minutes or so, then slowly made our way back to the train station to wait for the bus. Once aboard, I watched that towns and signs we passed. As this bus was run by the train company, would it stop at all the train stations on the way to Fidenza? Yep! I watched closely as we neared Busseto and saw the sign to turn off into Villa Verdi. There, less than 100 yards away, was the home we had gone to so much effort to see.(Photo: Peonies in full bloom outside train station.)
In Fidenza, we sat in the train station coffee shop, reading and sipping while we waited for the train to take us back to Bologna. Once back in the hotel, we grabbed a short nap to get ready for our evening dinner plans: cooking school!
La Vecchia Scuola Bolognese was our dinner and education site for the evening. Our tour group was divided into two groups; one group ate while the other cooked. We learned to make the dough for pasta, then to form it into tortellini and bowties and other shapes. We laughed constantly and enjoyed ourselves, and I imagine some of our friends will be inviting us to dinner and serving their homemade pasta. Honestly—I found it interesting, but not something I'm going to pursue.
I definitely have a greater appreciation now for the effort required to make pasta!
And regarding that first photo up there—If the Jazzman would tell me he's taking a picture of me, I'd stand up straighter. Oops.
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