I segreti del Nord Italia

“Italy is a dream that keeps returning for the rest of your life.”

-Anna Akhmatova

The Oriental Bar at the Metropole Hotel in Venice offers shelter from the chilly wind off the Adriatic. Entering, we are in a Bogart movie – we settle into rich burgundy mohair banquettes and sip caffe lattes (molto caldi –very hot), protected from the hundred-tongued mob just outside the window.

But we are getting ahead of our chronicle. Travel from Tuscany over the central Italian mountains and verdant Modena plain is less traumatic this year – perhaps it’s the new autostrada variante, softening torturous tunnels and curves; perhaps it’s the zippiness of our Lancia Ypsilon; or maybe, we’re just well-braced for the Herculean effort.

We stay at Villa Beatrice in the garden hills above Verona.  Each morning arising to cheerful Buongiorno, and home-prepared breakfast (rice cake or strawberry tart, creamy yogurt, energy -blended juices) prepared by our host, Simone Colliselli. We discuss the affairs of the day and gain insight into the charming, often puzzling logic that is Italy (let’s just say that technology follows the beat of a different drummer here).

Our days are in tune with Spring… leisurely morning passeggiatas (walks) through hillside roads with rent-a-dog, Shanti. We drive down to central Verona for a lunch of marvelous salads at Caffe Mazzanti on the Piazza delle Erbe. We deem this Italy’s fairest square. The pavements of Verona are large, smooth stones offering effortless glide around this gem of the north. Let’s keep the secret of Verona’s lovely, elegant character between us and, um …Shakespeare.

A day trip to Venice, as mentioned, is hard to decline. Seeing wondrous Piazza San Marco, we imagine ancient travelers beholding the scope and splendor of this dream in stone, open to the navigable East. We are no less humbled every time we return.

Venice can be viewed as a museum populated by real people, working the fisheries, the crafts, the accommodations. We lunch on hearty vegetable soup and warm octopus with potatoes and cherry tomatoes among hungry gondoliers and DHL delivery guys at Trattoria Alla Ferrata.

Further north is Bolzano/Bozen in the Sud Tyrol (Italian Dolomites). Some describe the community as half-Italian/half-German, so it feels like a Swiss canton – proper and orderly, yet active in spirit and so livable. Bike paths, green spaces, and distinguished, old-world buildings set amidst snowy peaks and castles with terraced vineyards.

We are guests at the immaculate Hotel Hanny, family run and nestled in the vineyards just at the edge of town. After a hearty German fruhstuck (breakfast) we walk or bike into the town center along lovely parks that run next to an alpine river. We seem to be the only Americans in sight.

Easter morning, 44F degrees, we bike hurriedly on cobblestone streets to the sound of countless bells calling the faithful to worship. Arriving at Bolzano Cathedral just in time, we are unknowingly among a procession of priests entering amid great excitement. We came for the sacred music (thunderous organ, choir, and orchestra) and stayed for the incense! Huddled in the stone cold sanctuary we marvel at glorious pageantry and solemn community.

Dinners of fresh grilled fish and asparagus specialties, hiking through hillside fields, picnics of artisanal cheeses and medieval bread on the village green, and naps in the warming spring sun are typical activities before we settle down for an afternoon coffee on courtly Walther Square.

All images captured on iPhone6S+

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