I am feeling better this morning than the last (hangover from the festival). It is interesting to take a shower with no curtain. We travel off to Geneva with a game plan of trying to find some good old McDs for breakfast, a royale with cheese perhaps? Or maybe a fancy French fast food place with gourmet cheeses on their burgers. But as we enter a toll road, we know it is going to be a while.
Small towns and farm lands make way for mountains as we drive up the Alps. The ground quickly goes from frost to light snow to heavy snow. The signs of towns change from cute churches to lumberjacks and logs. As we exit our first tunnel the view opens up to a breathtaking scene of huge mountains. The clouds hang over the mountain tops like whipped cream trying to crawl over. We go higher and higher up into ski towns.
We arrive at the airport with tall fences that block the Swiss border. Have an adventure trying to figure out where to return our car. As we wait for a gate number we snack on our leftover candy for breakfast after trying to eat some terribly boring and expensive sandwiches. Still, it may have been so dull just because the food has been nothing but amazing.
Flybaboo has a nice red and white lounge. I listen to our fellow travelers, and everyone is still speaking French. Tom scrounges together the last euros and us dollars for a coke on ice (not common) so that we don't get any Swiss francs in return.
Alps look like dessert, whipped cream and marshmallow clouds. They hang heavy, not moving they almost look like they are on the ground with so much mountain above them. We are served mozzarella and tomato skewers from stewardesses in cute hoodies. The turbulence is scary, and I console myself with leftover macarons.
We land in Venice and begin our Italian adventure. A group of middle aged travelers in wigs hop off the plane with us, looks like a fun group. We take a buss to the ugly countryside to piazzale roma. We get our nice view on the vaporetto 1 with the sun setting. We are now in the heart of Venice, the Disneyworld for adults. We get lost looking for our hotel and a nice artisan man helps us out. People keep reminding us of Bill Hader's Italian variety show host from SNL.
Streets are filled with chocolate, masks, and other items to distract the tourists. We try and avoid all the "menu turistica" and places with pictures of their food on the wall. We find La Cantina (wine cellar) and in a communication misunderstanding about "no menu" we get a giant meat and cheese plate… its heaven. We discover the wonders of prosciutto di parma (aka bubblegum meat) and the dark richness of Tuscan wine, which makes us forget about everything we had previously drank.
Barbera is dark fruit, pepper, and smooth. Nero D'avola is earthy with a blackberry finish. So much more berry than France, darker fruits. It goes good with the hot Panini bread and olive oil. The Barolo is the best, inky dark with an old smoke. The Chianti is earthy mushrooms with a tight acid finish. I tried to ask "da quale vingetto la Barolo viene", what vineyard does the Barolo come from, but got an explanation about Nebiollo grapes. Finally "quale casa", which house, gets me my answer: Anselma Serralunga Vigna Reserva.
More wine... waiter will surprise us. Cantine Lonardo Tavrasi Aglianico is dark and dry, full of earth and leather but also fruit. Bardi Piave Raboso is lighter and bouncier but with a biting quick flavor, so much better than Beaujolais. Italian wines are so good. We just sit, chill, listen to the cheesy version of "fever" and let the wonders of Italy hit us.
We window shop, look at soap that looks like candy, and get our first gelato of the trip. We bundle up and go out on the hunt for the Rialto bridge and San Marco. There are so many Americans and pushy restaurateurs on the Grand Canal. They are selling sundaes and pizzas on fancy tables. We turn down the back alleys to find the true trattorias and find a cheese and meat shop that smells so good, we will come back for picnic supplies tomorrow.
Get lost, get found, follow signs for San Marco. The piazza is like the Louvre, but with pushy flower salesmen. We find a final wine bar for the night. My Valpolicella Ripasso smells like port, but tastes like acidic fig and raisin, would be good with food. Tom's Soave has a citrus smell but an underwelming mild floral soap taste.
As we walk back to the hotel, I'm already getting excited about leaving this tourist city and experiencing true Italy in the Tuscan hills. I want to get back to the country, back to the times where we were the only Americans. We turn in early after a long day of travel.