Italy: Day 8

Wine and Water and a Balcony

Here's a token picture of the Jazzman and me. I think this is one of only two photos I have of us together on this trip. I felt I needed to post it so you wouldn't think I was making up this whole account!

We departed Bologna this morning en route to Verona. Our first stop would be a winery. But this was not just any winery. This winery is owned by descendants of Dante Alighieri! Talk about roots!!

We arrived at the Serego Alighieri winery in the late morning and strolled in some of their fields until the appointed time for our tour. Dante's son purchased the property in 1353, and 21 generations of Alighieris have worked these vineyards. Once inside the estate, we were greeted by our tour guide: an exuberant young woman who spoke flawless English with a beautiful Italian accent. She showed us the room where the vats stood, some in cherry wood, some in oak, and some in stainless steel. The smell of the red wine was so strong I left the room to stand in the hallway and study the old photographs of the estate. (Photo on right: Outside the main gate to the estate, poppies stand by an ancient rock wall. I fell in love with poppies during my summer in France, and whenever I see them, I'm 21 again.)

Leaving the area, we walked through the gift shop, then out into the gardens of the villa. Can you say exquisitely beautiful?! The crisp temperatures, the blue skies—everything fit together to create picture-perfect day.

After enjoying the gardens and taking a tour group photo, we moved into the drying room where the grapes are brought from the harvest.

We saw old hand-crafted drying racks, old farm implements, old buildings—many signs of a business and lifestyle that has been around for ages. And we learned so much about the production of wine. In the right-hand photo below, you can just see a rose bush at the end of each row. The grapes are very temperamental and delicate. But the roses are more delicate. If a rose bush is failing, that means there's trouble in the soil beneath, and immediate care must be taken to protect the vines.

Another feature here that took me back to that long ago summer in France was the hedges of boxwood. The summer I lived and studied in Fontainebleau was my first introduction to boxwood, with its distinctive smell. Each time I smell it, I'm instantly transported back to France.

This estate was truly gorgeous. Despite the back-breaking work, one looks at the environment and thinks how lucky those vine-workers are to be there.

After our tour, we enjoyed lunch and wine tasting. And guess what—Serego Alighieri is also a Bed & Breakfast! Want an elegant, intimate destination wedding? Wow, would this be the place! There is just an air of serenity surrounding this lovely estate.

 

The visit to Serego Alighieri, for me, would have made the day complete, but we had miles to go and places to see. Although not on the tour's itinerary, a number of our tour companions had expressed to the tour director an interest in seeing Lake Garda, located in the lakes district of northern Italy. We would be passing not too far away from the lake, and our schedule had enough flexibility that day that we could fit in a side trip. While we were enjoying our lunch at Serego Alighieri, the tour director made some phone calls and arranged a visit to the town of Sirmione—"The first traces of human presence in the area of Sirmione dates from the 6th-5th millennia BCE"! Those in our group who wanted to take a boat ride out on the lake could do so for an extra fee of only 5€!

Sirmione is slightly touristy, but entirely charming. The Jazzman and I opted for the boat ride, and I loved every moment. The boat, a large wooden inboard that seated about eight passengers, reminded me of the boat we had when I was growing up on Lake Maitland in Florida. The views from the boat were charming. It was such a nice way to spend half an hour.

Back on land, we walked the small lanes of the town, window-shopping and then stopping for beer and gelato. All too soon it was time to reboard the bus to continue on to Verona.

In Verona, we stayed at Hotel Mastino, on Corso Porta Nuova, not far from the Teatro Romano. Where the previous hotels had been both adequate and nice (while the hotel in Santa Margherita was somewhat cramped), I would say that almost to a person the group didn't like this hotel. It was on a main street in the center of the tourist area of the city, and the Jazzman's and my window was directly over the local McDonald's. Can you say NOISE!? And "somewhat cramped" would have been luxurious compared to this! In the shower, one had to back out into the bathroom to turn around! While we would gladly have sacrificed convenience for a more spacious, quieter hotel, some disputes are just not worth the aggravation. So we vowed to spend as much time out of the hotel as possible. (Hey, maybe that was the tour company's or the hotel's objective when signing this contract!)

Once we had our bags and were settled into our rooms, our tour director took us on a short walking tour of the old town area to orient us and give us the knowledge to take off on our own walking tours. After an hour or so of walking and gawking, our group of fifteen ended up in one of the caffès with outdoor tables along the Piazza delle Erbe, where we ate and drank and ushered in our first evening in Verona in preparation for our last full day in Italy.

Oh, the balcony in today's title? Sorry, I lied. I never saw Juliet's balcony. But then, it's not the real balcony and has just been touristed up to bring in the Euros, so I guess I didn't miss anything. One of our friends took a picture of me leaning out our hotel room balcony as the Jazzman called up to me from the patio outside McDonald's. "Romeo, Romeo …"

Tomorrow: Verona, Views from Above and Arrivederci, Italy

Italy: Day 7

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.

Tomorrow: Wine and Water and a Balcony

Italy: Day 6

Around Bologna

As I write this post, we are one month out from the day we arrived Bologna. Quite honestly, where I could tell you lots about the history of Torino, the first city we visited, there's very little I remember about the history of Bologna. I do remember that the buildings and architecture were exquisite, as LonelyPlant.com describes. The day we were there, Saturday, May 12, had been declared a Day of Mourning due to the suicide five days earlier of beloved local politician Maurizio Cevenini. Many of the streets around the city center were closed to vehicular traffic for the day. And the day was unseasonably hot. Add the heat to the number of people milling around downtown to participate in the festivities or catch sight of the local celebrities and VIPs, then mix it in with the fact that I had been having knee problems almost every day of the trip, and you get a little explanation for why I didn't remember much. But let me describe what I do remember.

The Basilica di San Petronio faces the Piazza Maggiore. There was a church on the site around 1000, but it was destroyed by fire in 1141. It was rebuilt by order of Pope Lucius III and dedicated in 1184. The most amazing feature of this church, to me, was the perpetual calendar on the floor. In this sun calendar, a hole in the ceiling of the cathedral projects a shaft of sunlight onto this bronze strip on the pavement below, which is engraved with the days of the year and signs of the zodiac. (Click the previous sentence, then scroll down about six paragraphs on the target page to see a photo on the right.) I was astonished to think of the level of knowledge that the designers and engineers possessed in the 17th century to create this clock! More information on Bologna, including San Petronio.

The oldest medical school in Europe is in Bologna. And my mind was blown seeing Teatro Anatomico, the classroom where the science of anatomy was taught and the art of dissections began. "Cedar-wood tiered seats surround a central marble-topped table while a sculptured Apollo looks down from the ceiling. The canopy above the lecturer’s chair is supported by two skinless figures carved into the wood." Reference: LonelyPlanet.com "It was common practice for the professor of anatomy to sit in a large, ornate chair elevated above the dissection proceedings, reading from an anatomical text and providing commentary, while a demonstrator, or surgeon, physically performed the dissection. Additionally, an ostensor was present to point out the specific parts of the body that were being examined." Reference - See "Teaching Practices." Another reference indicates these dissections and anatomy lessons only occurred annually during Carnival. As I sat there, thinking about the students in the mid-1600s sitting where I was sitting, I couldn't help but think of my daddy, who went to medical school in the early 1940s and spent his career as a general practitioner and general surgeon. He was able to do what he loved to do because this marble table and this very classroom existed three hundred years earlier. It was a very moving experience for me.

After visiting San Petronio, our guide took us on a stroll through the Saturday street markets in Bologna, in the area east of Piazza Maggiore, towards the university. Well, "stroll" isn't exactly the right word. The area was packed! We had trouble staying together in the crush of people.

The official tour was complete for the day, and it was almost lunchtime. Couples and groups split off to find places for lunch, and the Jazzman and I decided to get a little shopping done before lunch. (Truthfully, I decided and the Jazzman was very kind to humor me!) As we stopped earlier on the corner of Via Clavature and Via Massimo D'Azeglio on the Piazza Maggiore a few steps west of San Petronio, I was surprised and thrilled to see an upscale fabric shop, all'Orologio. So the first place I wanted to head after the group broke up was back there to see what they had. A delightful salesman knew enough English that I was able to get a great piece of rayon jersey for a t-shirt to remind me of the trip. Then we walked back across the piazza to a store with a window-full of fabulous bold chunky costume jewelry. I bought a fabulous silk and turquoise pendant necklace for my daughter-in-law, then quickly decided to get a fun necklace for myself.

When we left the fabric store after the previous purchase, the salesman gave us a card for a restaurant, saying it was one of his favorites and suggesting we have lunch there. He had shown us the location on the tourist map, and it appeared to be only about eight blocks away, so we set off in that direction. (I have mentioned that I was having trouble walking because of a bum knee, right?) We kept comparing street signs to the marks on the map, and kept walking, and walking, and …. When we reached a street corner and were absolutely certain we had gone too far, we turned around. A shoplady was standing in her door, so we tried to ask where the street or restaurant was. She looked at the map and pointed us straight ahead for two blocks, then left for three blocks. More walking. No restaurant. I had been religiously guarding my data usage on my iPhone to keep the bill low, but finally turned it on and searched for the address. After more turning around and walking, we found the restaurant. (Did I mention the day was unseasonably hot?) Had we walked half a block past the lady we asked, and turned right, the restaurant was two doors down that street!

By this time we're hot and sweaty and hungry. The restaurant did not have an outside patio, so we went in. It was about 1:15, and only one table was occupied. We selected a table and sat down in this lovely white-linen-tablecloth establishment. With no air conditioning. And no fan. And a lot of heat!

The Jazzman ordered a beer and I ordered a sparking water, and we practically guzzled them to cool off. The waitress brought menus and delivered the perfunctory ceramic cylinder of breadsticks, then retired to the bar to let us study the menu. The longer we sat there in the heat, the more sure we were that we were not eating lunch in this restaurant! When the waitress came back over and asked what we would like, we said that was all we were going to have. "Oh, no," she countered, "you can't do that!" We explained that it was too hot and we just couldn't stay there. After finishing our drinks and using the restrooms, we approached the bar to pay for our refreshment. She kindly explained that when a diner enters a restaurant and sits at a table (rather than on a patio), one must pay the table charge, which includes the bread and—I guess—the cost of their having to rent more linens and wash the utensils. "Next time," she said, "go to a restaurant with a patio." We told her we understood and thanked her for her kindness. We explained that we had fully intended to eat there but couldn't take the heat. (Truly, with only one table occupied, why wouldn't they have welcomed us to stay and kept plying us with more iced beverages?!)

At least now our knees and feet were rested, so we started out walking again. I had found cute little bracelets for my granddaughter's birthday present, and I wanted to explore one more store, Casa della Lana. I had googled Bologna yarn stores, and found a blog post describing this store, which was not far from our hotel.

We started in that direction, recalculating directions, and suddenly found a delightful small gallery, Crete, where I bought a piece of lampwork bead earrings from the island of Murano, and a fabulous inexpensive necklace made of a black polyester mesh with faux pearls floating inside. #happyJan We continued on towards the yarn store, and stopped at a lovely restaurant with a covered patio where we filled up and cooled down. After this rest, we walked another block to the yarn store.

I realized I had seen the yarn store on our introductory walk the evening before, but didn't recognize it as a yarn store because the window was filled mostly with clothing. When we walked in, I saw shelves filled with beautiful yarns, all organized by color. (If you're not a yarn person, you wouldn't know that in the States yarns are usually sorted by manufacturer. That way if you find a yarn texture or weight you like, you can then choose the color you want to knit with.) But I also saw racks of fabulous reasonably-priced easily-wearable jersey dresses, tops and slacks. Oh, to have had an unlimited budget in this store! The two ladies out front called another clerk from the back, who spoke enough English to help me. She was darling—helped me find Italian yarns I wouldn't see in the States, and even showed me how to cast on this unique yarn. Then she pulled it off the needle and urged me to cast on while she watched. "Bella!," she said, encouragingly. What a perfect shopgirl!!

Now almost back to the hotel, we spied some sort of public demonstration with young people painting on banners, and the Jazzman, with his love of politics and unions, just had to stop and see what was going on. (See, all our interests were satisfied on this trip!)

Back to the hotel, a few minutes to clean up, then gather in the lobby while waiting for the others to return from their afternoon wine tasting so we could go to that night's dinner.

The tour-included dinner that night was at Trattoria Anna Maria. We were told her lasagna was, simply, the best. And it was! Honestly, if I could find (or make) lasagna noodles that thin and tender, I'd make lasagna every other day.

The restaurant itself was classic, with walls filled with photos of every famous person who had ever eaten there. The waitstaff was delightful. And we were all elated and laughing, yet one more fabulous Italian meal.

At the end of the meal, Anna Maria herself came out of the kitchen to greet us, and even did a little dance for us, after our tour director told us what a fabulous dancer she is.

Reluctantly, we left Anna Maria and walked back to the hotel through streets jam-packed with locals, enjoying the warm evening and good friends. (The picture on the left was snapped as we walked down one of the streets near the university at about 10:00 on a Friday night.)

 

Tomorrow: An Adventure and a Sticky Door

Italy: Day 5

Parmigiano Reggiano, Aceto Balsamico Tradizionale, and Bologna

Leaving Santa Margherita Ligure, we headed toward Parma. Our morning's experience would be to learn about the production of what we had previously called Parmesan cheese. We first learned its real name: Parmigiano Reggiano.

We stopped at a cheese-producer near Coviolo in the Reggio Emilia region of Italy. I was absolutely fascinated by the process of cheese-making that we observed. I found a very good description of the process in Wikipedia. The only part of the process described to us in our visit and not mentioned in the Wiki account is the yogurt that is produced before the whey.

After viewing the process, we were offered samples of the cheese at different ages (typically 12 months, 24 months, and 36 months), a spread made with the yogurt, a yogurt drink, various cold cuts from the pigs that dine on the whey. (Several of us commented that we ate more pork products on this trip than at any other time in our lives.)

The only thing we didn't get to see on this visit was the red cows who are known for producing the milk from which the parmigiana reggiano is made.

Next stop, balsamic vinegar

Next we traveled to the acetaia at Villa Le Magnolie near the village of Gaggio outside Modena. We enjoyed lunch that included [more] pork cold cuts and parmigiano reggiano. On the table were two bottles of aceto balsamico - 15-year and 25-year. The owner, Mario Gambigliani Zoccoli, who is the president of the Consortium of Producers of the Traditional Balsamic Vinegar of Modena, explained the process to us, then took us to the attic of his home to see the balsamic vinegar as it aged. Photo of aging casks of vinegar. (See the top row of small windows in the picture of their villa? That's that attic, where the vinegar ages. As we climbed the stairs, past their second floor living quarters, I was struck by the strong smell of the vinegar. Imagine living every day with that smell. Maybe one gets used to the smell, but I don't think I could!) (The home was filled with beautiful antiques and can be rented for weddings and other such events. Imagine the elegance!)

The consortium uses bottles that are trademarked and clearly identifiable. The small bottle, 15-year vinegar, costs about $75. The larger bottle, 25-year vinegar, costs about $100. And an aficionado will tell you they're worth every dollar! (Photo on right: Mario Gambigliani Zoccoli, our aceto balsamico host.)

I had not been introduced to vinegar as a child. My mother, a devout Seventh-day Adventist, used lemon juice instead of vinegar in salads. As a result, I've never really gotten used to the taste or developed a taste for it. But tasting this product gave me a new appreciation for it. A dish of ice cream or a bowl of fresh strawberries or a slice of pound cake drizzled with a 25-year aceto balsamico? Bring it on!

And on to Bologna

Our home for the next two days would be the hotel NH Bologna della Gare. We arrived, checked into our rooms, then went on a walking tour of Bologna.

Part of our tour director's goal on this walking tour was just to introduce us to the layout of the city and give us easy landmarks so we could find our way back to the hotel. Bologna is a university town, and we walked through areas filled with young adults eating and drinking and enjoying their lives. We ended at the Piazza Maggiore, and decided to sit, order drinks, and enjoy the dusk as night fell over Bologna.

(Left: Clock tower on the Palazzo del Podestà, across Piazza Maggiore from our chosen caffè.)

As I've mentioned in earlier posts in this series, it's the custom in Italian caffès to serve "nibbles," small plates of appetizers that are complimentary with your drink orders. So when the waitress asked if we'd like appetizers, we immediately responded, "Why, yes. Thank you!"

We had a lovely time nibbling and drinking and laughing. Then the waitress brought the check. Expecting each person's bill to come to no more than 15-20€, you can imagine our absolute shock when the bills were, oh, 75-100€ or more. (I was in such shock, I have blocked the amount out of my mind. Maybe the Jazzman remembers, as he was forced to whip out his credit card to pay - something he hates doing!) Lesson learned: there are no free nibbles!

<Sidebar On>
Have you ever been to Venice? You know how you can sit at a darling little caffè looking out on Piazza San Marco and have an espresso, and the bill only comes to about $50? For one tiny cup of strong coffee? Well, evidently the caffès around Piazza Maggiore in Bologna operate under the same theory: Enjoy the view, but know that you'll pay for it.
<Sidebar Off>

After recovering from our expensive non-dinner, we split off in groups of two or three or five and wandered down Via dell'Indipendenza, window shopping while keeping eyes tuned for an ATM to replenish our empty wallets.

Tomorrow: A Day in Bologna

Italy: Day 4

The Cinque Terre

When I first started reading about an excursion to the Cinque Terre, I had no knowledge of the area. The Jazzman had visited the area on his last visit to Italy eight or so years ago. I have traveled to the Costa del Sol of Spain, I have flown into Marseille, spent a couple of days in Nice, and sung in La Ciotat, all on the French Riviera. But I had not been to the Italian Riviera. The Lonely Planet travel website describes the Cinque Terre: "Strung along 18km of serrated cliffs between Levanto and La Spezia, the Cinque Terre is one of Italy’s treasures. These five higgledy-piggledy villages – Monterosso, Vernazza, Corniglia, Manarola and Riomaggiore – are cut off by mountains choked with olive groves and dry-stone-walled vineyards, where farmers have eked out a living over the centuries." As I tried to learn more, I learned about the tragic rains, floods and mudslides of October 25, 2011. And I kept reading how beautiful the area is.

On Thursday morning, we traveled south to the coastal village of Porto Venere, where we visited La Chiesa di San Pietro. Dating from the 6th Century, the church is constructed in the Gothic-Genovese style with alternating white and black bricks. In Porto Venere, we boarded a tour boat to travel north along the coast.

The Cinque Terre villages date from the 10th Century. When you see how they are tucked into hillsides and seaside valleys, it's hard to imagine workers in the year 1000 bringing in the materials to construct these homes and shops. We disembarked first at Manarola, where we strolled through the town and stopped for coffee. Reboarding the boats, we next disembarked at Monterosso, where the fifteen of us friends, along with our tour director and coach driver, enjoyed an exquisite lunch on a cliff overlooking the sea.

I'm not a foodie—I've made that statement multiple times. But the food on this trip was, simply, amazing. The variety of dishes was impressive. When that variety was paired with the quality of food preparation and the attentiveness of the servers—I just cannot recommend this tour highly enough. I loved every dining experience. As you can imagine, the menu in Monterosso included all manner of seafood. I had a salad that suited me perfectly, and we all left happy.

If you're wondering the name of the restaurant, I'm sorry but I'm not going to share that with you. Our tour director swore us all to secrecy. She loves to eat there any time she's in Monterosso, and she likes being able to get a table.

Note to self, six years later: In case you ever forget the name of this restaurant again, it's Ristorante L'ancora della Tortuga. But—ssshh—don't tell anyone.

Both food and views were exquisite. If you ever had an opportunity to visit the Cinque Terre, jump at the chance!

We boarded the boat again and cruised back to Porto Venere. We had a few minutes to shop before boarding the coach to travel back to Santa Margherita. The narrow, winding roads we traversed for this excursion left us all impressed with Marco's ability as a coach driver. He maneuvered turns that had us all holding our collective breath. (And he was just a helluva nice guy.) We were lucky to have him driving us through Italy.

Before we left Ristorante Antonio on the previous night, we made dinner reservations for our second night in Santa Margherita. When we arrived at the restaurant for our second dinner, fifteen of us en masse, we saw that our pleasure with the previous night's dinner had been communicated to our fellow tour travelers. Three or four of the restaurant's tables were already filled with our fellow travelers.

Again we enjoyed the excellent service of waiter Andrea, the exquisitely prepared food, and the fun of being with dear friends in a pleasant environment. I believe none of us will ever forget the Ristorante Antonio experience.

Tomorrow: Parmigiano Reggiano, Aceto Balsamico Tradizionale, and Bologna