Lemons into Lemonade

Hello all from Lombardy!

Am in Pavia, or PavIa as they say it here. I would like to say that I love it, as it is a nice little ancient university town - one of the most ancient in Europe I believe, sometime around the 10th century, beating both Cambridge and Oxford into a cocked hat. But I confess, after a 110 km day, through the oppressive humidity of the Lomellina plains, I was decidedly underwhelmed. It isn't the town's fault, exactly, since it is nice enough really, and it does claim a Duomo designed in part by Leonardo da Vinci. It is just that the seething mass of outskirts horridness and arriving to find that the Office of Tourism had moved from its advertised location (helpfully, as ever, on the very edge of town (what is wrong with these people?)) meant that when I finally tracked down its new location, it had shut. This meant, at 5.30, and without any obvious hotels, I had to find somewhere to stay. Mercifully, the ole Lonely Planet yielded one place which only charged 120 euros per room.........................! (I thought that book was supposed to be for students and gap year wastrels for God sake!) Anyway, mercifully it turned out that the deluxe palazzo option had a scrubby two star literally next door, so I am sitting here with a sweet little chap in the reception letting me use his computer to say hello to you all.

PavIa also redeemed itself for another reason, which prompted the title (a saying given to me by three Aussies I met staying in Barolo a couple of nights ago.) Having finally got myself settled, I decided to go and visit the said Duomo to find it swathed in scaffolding and plastic (apparently a bell tower fell down a few years ago and killed four people so it turns out Leonardo wasn't all that crash hot an architect) Anyway, feeling that the day was compounding rubbishness on rubbishness, I was about to stomp off and go back to my room, when I saw two men approaching in black cassocks and dog collars. They said hello and I ended up telling them what I was doing, so the Bishop of Pavia (for it was no less than he) asked me into the Archbishops Palace, a magnificent building opposite the said church. Now, inside this building (which is, incidentally, not open to the public) was a fabulous marble staircase adorned with Old Masters. He led me into a room full of paintings of archbishops and bishops, of which he, it seems, it the 108th. (By way of comparison, our Archbishop of Canterbury is no. 104, which must put Pavia as an bishopric dating from at least the 6th century.)

Anyway, the Bish and I got talking a bit, despite my having confessed to not being Catholic, and so he ended up taking me into another room. There on the wall was a painting of John the Baptist and the Virgin Mary by none other than Leonardo the Rubbish Architect. It was fantastic, I must say and only me there staring at it. And nice too, to see it as part of the furniture, rather than yet another old master on a gallery wall. When I finally left, the Bish blessed me despite my not being Catholic, wishing angels to follow my wheels. His young companion, dear ole handsome Father Paolo, then showed me out of the palace, asking me in that glorious gorgeous English-Italian to say a prayer for him when I reached Rome. Then he touched my cheek (the ole charmer) and said 'bellissima' and wished me on my way. This is what I mean by fate and lemons into lemonade, my friends: even when things seem crap, somehow they turn out for the best.

And, in retrospect, despite the Agip refineries, the Lomellina plains were rather beautiful, at least for much of the way. I have finally changed from the fruit basket of Piedmont to the endless golden riceries of the Po. Indeed, since I last mailed, I have been climbing through vine country, through the truly lovely mountains of Monferrato. The only downside was the climbing bit, which was sometimes wickedly steep and in the baking heat, was pretty killing. But the views from the village of La Morra (570m), as promised, were utterly stunning - crossed hatches vineyards contouring rolling hills as far as the eye could see. They are not far off harvest and the vines are turning slightly yellow, and the grapes are draped, huge and purple, just off the ground. Plus I have been doing the ole Agriturismo, stayed in a lovely one just down the road from Barolo, where I met the said Australian ladies. The hostess, Rafaella was also lovely. I will post the address for all those thinking of going off in search of Italy's best red wine.

But, before I forget !!! (So much has happened people, it is really difficult to keep up!) Here is another story of Italian niceness, this time from the lovely mediaeval bourg of Saluzzo.

I arrived, as always, hot and sweaty to find the tourist office of former Marquisate of Saluzzo closed until 2.30 pm. I was about to sit in the shade and sulk, rather exhausted, and wait for Italy to open up shop for the afternoon. But a chap peering out of a window saw me and invited me in for coffee.

Now since his place was actuallly a restaurant, I assumed I would end up paying for it, but no, acqua fresca and coffee duly arrived for free. And lovely generous and very very sweet Albino the Restaurant owner kept dashing off and telling me places to go and things to see. Even before the tourist office opened, I was armed with all I needed to tell me that I should stay a couple of days. So, because of dear ole Albino, I ended up at the Castle of Manta and discovering some of the finest International Gothic frescoes in Europe. Fate, again, you see. They were fantastic, lining the walls of the baronial hall, depicting the Fountain of Youth and the heroes and heroines of antiquity. All that mediaeval, crazy maze, out of perspective drawing and the men and women pattern cards of venery and hunting amidst the greenery. Another room was full of later Mannerist frescoes: wall to ceiling classical imagry of dragon slaying, apollo and bacchus. It turns out that this narrow corridor around Manta, Cuneo and Lagnasco was the means for the Renaissance to penetrate Piedmont and influence the Kings of Savoy. Sometimes, I feel like the luckiest person on the planet. Added to which, I ended up staying with the nuns that evening, and they were the nicest and friendliest nuns you'll ever meet! Then I went off to eat at Albino's - which turns out to be Saluzzo's finest restaurant - and the food was consequently absolutely lovely....I mean, really really really good. And he told me all about each dish (and there seemed to be millions of them) and where the food came from and what made it a regional speciality. And since Albino was the loveliest man in creation, he ended up giving me a bottle of very good Italian red wine to go with it (Barolo something or other, for those in the know). When I INSISTED I pay, he shook his head and said you pay for everything you eat but I pay for the wine! But I feel slightly better as I told the Aussies to go there last night and I hope he's made a huge profit from them!!!

Then, I realise, I have told you nothing of the lovely Pinerolo, and the gorgeous apartment in the pretty little mediaeval town (not the only thing gorgeous in that mediaeval town, may I tell you girls...). That was really interesting (!) as the family - who were really welcoming - turned out to be protestants (I think, originating in the Waldensians - proto-protestants of mediaeval times). Torre Pelice, just up the road, is an important Protestant sanctuary in the heart of the Catholic north. Honestly.....can I talk about fate again without risking boring you all to tears??

Sorry its been a bit of a chaotic post - very tired after my hot and bothered day.I am now off to worship at the Sanctuary of the Golden Arches....yes, McDonalds is across the road, and I really can't be bothered with a sit down meal before I collapse. Apologies to all Italians or food lovers. But I have been eating like a Princess for days now. (On this subject, before I go - Italian tomatoes....I have never tasted any tomatoes as good as these. Plus their peaches....infact, all their fruit tastes of....fruit....Now I must go before I start sounding like bloody Rick Stein!

Vx