Italians do not build fences to surround their larger agricultural
fields. olive orchards, and vineyards but they love tall fences to shelter
their country homes and heavy gates with passo
carrabile signs and outside speakerphones to protect their apartments and
condos in the city. It is always a good idea to look before you walk on any
sidewalk as cars are likely to dash out of these inner courtyards when a gate
could open electronically at any moment. Italians know two speeds, fast and faster,
pedestrians are expendable. I learned this the hard way in Milan, on our last
evening there. A Mac truck decided to turn using our sidewalk since roads are
narrower in the city. The driver did not see me nor did I see him, but my eagle-eyed,
ever-vigilant husband saw his intentions and shoved me out of the way, into the
street.
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| Furry inhabitants of an old castle Photo: Ileana 2016 |
We drove straight to our three-star hotel we had booked on
the outskirts of Turin. We were shocked to find a fleabag multi-storied hotel
with beds as hard as the rock of Gibraltar and legs of iron. I could smell the
mice and the cockroaches. We lost our prepaid $176 and drove to another hotel,
a four-star one. When we asked to see the room, we were shocked at the dirty
grey walls and stained elevators, but the worst was the bed, a cross between a
battle field cot and a summer camp bed. We could not exit fast enough. The proprietor followed us outside and we
thanked him but no, we have back problems, ciao.
The third try should have been a charm but the GPS led us to
a village outside of Turin, to the parking lot of a liquor store. I asked the
owner if there was a Blue Hotel nearby and he said, he had lived there his
entire life and had never heard of such place. On this disappointing note, we
lost our way back to the city by Via Tunisia where a scantily-clad beautiful African
woman was seated in a beach chair literally at the crossroads in the middle
of a grass field, waiting for customers. Further down this road, for about a
mile, three gypsy shanty towns were hidden in the woods below.
Once in Turin, we decided to stop at the first American
hotel chain we could find; it turned out to be an elegant Holiday Inn for
169 euros per night. It was steep but we wanted a good bed and a large room
with a view of the Alps to rest our weary bodies. We got a great bed, a
spectacular view, robes, and a roomy bathroom with a large shower and slippers.
In the same fashion, instead of shower curtains, we got a moveable glass
enclosure straddling the tub that sometimes would leak copiously onto the
marble floors.
Superga Hill
Turin, the first capital of the Kingdom of Italy (1861), is
located in the shadow of the Alps, on the left bank of the River Po in front of
the Susa Valley, and surrounded by the western Alpine arch and the Superga Hill.
The Basilica di Superga, a mausoleum perched on the top of the hill, painted
yellow and white, built to commemorate the liberation from the French, contains
the tombs of more than 50 members of the Savoy family. The cable ride to
the top of the hill reveals a large plaque that memorializes the tragic loss of
the Grande Torino football team whose plane crashed into the hill in 1949.
Italians are really eco-conscious, much more than Americans
are, collecting every last scrap of materials that can be possibly recycled. Yet their local roads still look grimy no
matter how much rain they get. Italians don’t worry much about mowing grass or
killing weeds. They grow quite tall on all sides of the road everywhere,
including underneath the occasional patches where solar panels were installed.
Italian recycling philosophy reminded me of my behavior
when I first arrived in the States in the late seventies when, as a teenager, I
would want to wash the Styrofoam containers from McDonalds and the plastic
utensils. Why waste a perfectly good container and so much plastic?
Centro
After we unloaded our luggage, we drove downtown to see the Centro.
We learned how to find closer parking places to our intended destination and,
whenever possible, free parking. Parco del Valentino by the River Po had an
empty spot. We walked down Corso Vittorio Emanuele II and Piazza Castello in
our quest to find a pizzeria. Who would have thought that it would be so hard
to find pizza in Turin, Italy? But there were few tourists and most places only
offered pasta.
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| Colonnaded-walkways Photo: Ileana 2016 |
Turin is famous for its elegant colonnaded walkways that
stretch for miles and for its cinema museum. This is where the Italian film industry was
born, shining as the film production capital of the world for ten years. The
symbol of the city is a 550 ft. spire on top of Mole Antonelliana.
The Chapel of the Holy Shroud (Capella della Sacra Sindone), located outside the Turin Cathedral
and connected to the Royal Palace of Turin, houses a replica of the Shroud of
Turin (Sindone di Torino), the white cloth
that ostensibly wrapped the body of Christ. The linen fibers show the image of
a crucified man who is believed to be Jesus of Nazareth. To this day, people
still wonder if it is real or it’s just a clever forgery, part of a Medieval
hoax. The chapel was built at the end of the 17th century
(1668-1694) specifically to hold this religious relic.
In a linen shop along Via Roma I bought a bib for my
grandson with his name embroidered in Venetian blue, wrapped in a white sack
also with his monogram. It was so beautiful, reminiscent of my high school days
when we had to sew and embroider pillow cases in order to pass home economics. I was so excited about my find and so overwhelmed
by memories.
Under the elegant green and white colonnaded walkway by via
Roma, local women were having a flea market with various hand-made table
cloths, wooden boxes, carved alabaster statues, chess boards, handkerchiefs,
and other local souvenirs.
Photo: Ileana Johnson Turin Café 2016
We finally found an establishment by the college of San
Giuseppe where they were having he famous Italian happy hour appetizer bar with
drinks for 10 euros. We were really hungry and we gave up finding pizza
anywhere. A miniature Heineken and a Cola Light later, made the bite size
delicious appetizers taste even better. We sat outdoors, in the famous colonnaded
walkways. The sour waitress did not spoil
our excitement. She was unhappy about having to exchange our large euro
denomination but did not take credit cards. The tiny 6 oz. beers and drinks
were 5 euros for happy hour. I cannot imagine what they must have cost at
other times.
River Po, Turin Photo: Ileana 2016
I don’t know why, the entire time we were in Turin, the name of the movie and the car model, Gran Torino, stuck in my head.
