There are only two places where you are guaranteed an excellent pizza. One is in WoopWoop made my Jonas, the other is in Naples. There are clearly a lot of Jonas’ in Naples. That is what the aim was today – get to Naples and have pizza for dinner.
But, before we did that, there were a few trains to catch first.
Trains 9 and 10: Milan Metro lines 1 and 3 Loreto to Rogoredo Station
There’s not really much to say about our many trips on the Milan Metro except it is extremely handy. Though, as both Lindy and I maintain, they could do with a few more escalators.
But as for the efficient carriage of three chums from accommodation to waiting train, it was superb.
Train 11: Milan to Naples
This was like a trip through some of the most amazing places in the world. Florence, Bolgna, Rome, they just kept coming as we travelled down the old boot. And the train was very comfortable.
One of the things that John loves about train travel, as well as doing the Times crossword, is being able to sit and just look out of the window. He finds great peace in this. And this would have been no exception today only the stretch from just before Bolgna almost all the way to Naples was basically through tunnels.
In fact, he found our accommodation in Bolgna on Google maps, and said we should be able to see it as the train went by. Except we were underground.
We stopped for a while in Florence allowing a fellow in front of us to hop off, onto the platform in order to have a puff or ten on his vape.
And, can I just say that, it is a bit irritating that Germans, French and Italians all smoke on train platforms. I thought we’d left that sort of anti-scoial behaviour behind us. Fortunately, they don’t do it on trains otherwise that would be enough to stop me travelling.
At one stage, there was a young woman sitting in the seat next to me and I can confirm that Italians gesticulate when talking on the phone as well as when face to face.
The whole trip down was very pleasant though I feel I should mention Miss Grumpy, as John christened the woman serving in the buffet. Very unusual. Normally they are the happiest people on the train crew.
Anyway, we pulled into Napoli Central at around the same time as Anthea arrived from the airport, having suffered a flight from Gatwick, standing in customs and catching the bus into Naples.
We then tackled the full on Saturday afternoon crowds on the Naples Metro.
Train 12: Garibaldi to Toledo via Naples Metro
OMG! What a shamozzle. Still, we made it to Toledo and found our flat and settled in. It was very swish; my bedroom even had a jacuzzi.
Then, finally, and after having bought some essential supplies in the marlket across the alley, we headed out in search of a proper pizza…or four. And find them, we did.
We found a place (Trattoria and Pizzeria da Ciko) and looked around for a spare seat but they were chockas. Then, an enterprising young waiter told us to wait. He then went and found a table then four chairs and plonked us in the middle of the road. It was perfect. As was the pizza.
It became apparent today that John and I tend to notice the same, strange things when we are together. It’s a strange sort of empathy. Take this morning, for instance. We were walking to Bristot, the place where we get breakfast and our morning espresso and we witnessed a strange event which we both wondered about.
Two men emerged from a pair of big wooden doors and a small, black car emerged. Then two, very well dressed woman quickly came out and got into the car which then sped off. There followed from within a second, much bigger black car with impenetrable tinted windows.
At this point we noticed two things. Firstly the two men looked suspiciously like some sort of special forces security detail and the big black car almost ran over an old Italian granny. It was the old Italian granny which grabbed our attention as she barely avoided being squished by the big black car.
All was fine and she survived but, as John and I discussed later, it could have been a distraction technique and, while we were gawping at granny, they were doing something nefarious.
Later, on the way back to the flat we checked out the entrance from which they’d emerged but there was nothing to see other than what you’d expect. All very mysterious.
We also watched a garbage collector with a very ernest expression, holding up traffic as he collected wheelie bins from along the road and emptied them into his truck. When he turned and saw us watching from the window of the cafe, he gave us both a big smile.
Not that those two events had anything to do with our day today. Rather, our final Milan day involved a bit of a walking tour of ancient Milan with John as our tour guide.
And what a tour guide. He showed us some pretty amazing stuff. First up, a bit of ruin in the middle of a triangular roundabout.
This is the remains of a church that was almost completely demolished except for this bit above ground marking, sort of, the crypt underneath. And, apparently, it was built on top of a Roman villa. The crypt can be accessed and has some interesting stuff in it but, sadly, it doesn’t reopen until next week so we missed out.
Incidentally, the yellow bag in the photo has nothing to do with the church and was put there by the man sittig on the wall. Obviously I wasn’t going to tell him to move it because, firstly I’m not a wanky influencer who needs things just so and, secondly, because that is how it was in real life.
Anyway, we left the church and headed further down the Roman Road (you know they all lead there, right?) to our next destination which, you’ll never guess…was a church.
This one was a bit more complete. It is the amazingly amazing Basilica di San Nazaro in Brolo, founded, once more, by our old friend St Ambrose.
Yes, from the above photo it all looks very simple but it is far from it. You need to consider that this was one of the early Christian churches following Constantine’s declaration that Christianity would be the new religion. It is the first Latin Cross church and was meant to symbolise Christ’s crucifixion.
It was built between 382 and 386 and there are little hints about the place, showing how closely linked the early churches were. The Greeks, for instance and, of course, a bit of pagan.
Most extraordinary is that the road outside the church was one long portico in Roman times. It is a very straight road with a tram line trunning up it these days but it would have been something when it was all portico.
There is also little nooks and crannies dottewd about the church, filled with amazing stuff like funerary remains with explanations, a crypt with bits of wall in it showing the original construction and, unexpectedly in a Mary Chapel, a Judith holding the head of Holofernes.
Lindy hadn’t heard the story and I took great delight in reciting it. Such a pity it didn’t make the cut and get into the Bible. And she wasn’t the only Judith we saw. There was another in the next church we visited, the equally amazing, Basilica di Sant Eustorgio.
It was here, in the 4th century AD that two oxen dragged a stone crypt from Constantinople, dying of exhaustion when they reached Milan. Within the crypt were the remains of the Magi. You know, the three kings who visited baby Jesus and gave him some pretty useless presents. For a baby, I mean.
The crypt itself was a bit of a present from the emporer of Constantinople to St Eustorgio who, in honour of this great gift, built a church on top of the dead oxen posthaste. The big stone crypt is in the church, proudly displayed. The oxen are merely a footnote.
The story of the Magi does not end there, though, because in 1164, during the siege of Milan by Frederick Barbarossa, fearing that he would do something with the remains, the devotees took them and hid them in another church. Archbishop Rainald von Dassel discovered this ploy, however, and stole them from the other church.
The remains wound up in Cologne where they are still, today. Though not all of them.
In 1903, a cardinal asked really, really nicely to have them returned. A few fragments arrived in a box and put back in the crypt. Pity I didn’t know this when I visited the Cathedral at Cologne.
The church has some amazing stuff in it including this strange two faced woman.
She is one of the figures on a massive marble sarcophagus dedicated to St Peter of Verona. She is one of the virtues. John reckons she could be Prudence. All the names were in Latin and a bit obscure given the age – it was carved back in 1339.
There is so much to tell about the monument, I could go on for ages. But, fear not, I will not.
It was about time for lunch so we strolled down to the canal – yes there is a canal in Milan – and chose one of the 327 restaurants along the bank, each with their own touts, trying to charm people in to sit and eat and/or drink.
It was a delightful lunch we had, watching people and eating Italian.
Then we found the good old Metro and headed back to the flat for our afternoon rest before dinner.
We had booked to dine in the same place we went to on Tuesday, the Osteria Nuovo Convento. When we turned up, the guy in charge treated us like family, welcoming us in, happy to see us. It was fantastic. As was the food. Again In particular my beef and artichoke. It was splendid.
And that was it for Milan. Tomorrow morning we head for Naples where we will meet up with Anthea and Sarah. As I said over dinner, I’m going to miss Milan.
Before I go, I have included my latest Letter from Sweden, which I recorded before I left. Here it is:
Every morning, on Weasel jaunts, John and I venture out looking for a breakfast baker and an espresso, to start the morning right. We tend to knock back the small morning coffee, make a judgement on the aroma and taste, then take the breakfast pastries back to the accommodation for the remaining Weasels. We didn’t have much luck yesterday but this morning, that changed.
Not only did we find an excellent patisserie but it also scored very highly on the espresso scale. Had it not been for the perfect one we had last night after dinner, this mornings would have scored 10 out of 10. The bun I had was pretty good too.
Of course, you can generally tell a good breakfast place by the length of the queue heading out of the door. While there wasn’t one when we arrived, it was starting to snake down the street when we left. We know where we’re going tomorrow.
Eventually, having enjoyed our morning repast, we headed out to the Metro for the journey downtown to the first Basilica today. It was the Basilica di Santa Maria delle Grazie, right next to The Last Supper Museum Ticket Office, which we didn’t bother visiting because it is sold out until the end of October.
Mind you, as I explained to John and Lindy, I’ve already seen The Last Supper at Boman’s in Trosa so I don’t need to see it again.
Besides, the basilica was much more interesting than a single, dusty painting about 13 men having dinner.
It is a Dominican convent that is also a World Heritage site. And, as soon as you step through the door, it’s easy to see why.
The walls, columns and ceiling are stunningly painted with curly designs and gorgeous frescoes. Alive with colour. It is a beautiful place, although it was the idea of a Sforza. Francesco I Sforza, to be exact, the Duke of Milan. He decided he wanted a convent so he got architect Guiniforte Solari to design him one. And it had to be Dominican. I don’t know why.
Guiniforte got to work and the Gothic nave was completed by 1469. The rest of the place took yonks. Frank never saw it complete and it’s not recorded what he thought about that. A little later, Duke Ludovico Sforza (1452-1508) decided that the church would be an excellent burial site for him and his family. He had it rebuilt to serve his purposes.
His wife, Beatrice was buried there in 1497 after she died in childbirth. She was only 18 and pretty fiesty but, it seems, Ludovico was one big lothario and had kids with just about every woman in Milan. Poor Beatrice was particularly upset when her best and trusted hand maiden became pregnant and old Ludo was the father.
Historically, her premature death ended up being a bit shit for Milan. At the first attempt, French Duke Louis d’Orléans almost took Milan only to be thwarted by Beatrice. Of course, when he returned for a second bite of the Milanese cherry, Bea was dead. Milan became French.
But that is not that relevent to the convent.
Above is the queue to see the painting next door. And they all have timed tickets.
But, back at the basilica…
In 1543, a Titian alterpiece was added and probably looked lovely. You can’t see it these days because the French army nicked it in 1797 and it’s now in the Louvre. The whole convent was almost destroyed by allied bombing during the Second World War and The Last Supper was saved by chance given the wall it was on was one of the few that remained standing.
Obviously, the place has had some significant renovation work done on it though the paintwork looks delightfully old.
I thought the place was lovely. Peaceful, calm, spiritual. John said it was the complete opposite to the Duomo yesterday. I rather liked the fact that the chairs had been pushed to the sides. It made the place feel bigger.
There is also a lovely little cloister where the day could be enjoyed in peace and tranquility though only before the internal combustion engine was created. Nowadays, leaving the confines of the actual building subjects you to traffic noise. Still, the greenery was nice.
We left the basilica, having roamed up one side then down the other to admire the many chapels (or cells, as Lindy calls them), and enjoyed a coffee break at the convenient cafe across the piazza, where the waitress has to dodge cars whenever she leaves the cafe to serve the customers outside.
Sufficiently refreshed, we headed for the Museum of Science and Technology. This was really more for John and Lindy as I spent a lot of time there back in 2018. I’ll not bother going over that again but here’s a photo.
That’s an x-ray of a bus full of people. I said to Lindy that it’s the Route Straight to Hell. That’s us reflected in the glass.
Following a long trek from one end of the museum to the other, we searched around and discovered a lovely cafe that seemed to be a bit of a TARDIS given it was pretty small yet held thousands of people.
We were lucky to get in, actually. Everywhere else was rammed. And the one we settled in, Caffe Carducci, quickly filled after we sat.
We had a light lunch and had water to drink. Fortunately, the water bottle had instructions on it otherwise I may have just died of thirst.
Thank goodness for that I said, only to discover that Lindy and John didn’t have instructions on their bottles. The clever clogs managed without.
Having filled a panini sized hole, we headed across the road to the second basilica of the day, Basilica of Sant’Ambrogio. Yet another beautiful, peaceful space with the added touch of some sort of Greek Orthodox ceremony going on above the crypt. There was even music.
The basilica is one of the oldest churches in Milan. St Ambrose (Lindy said he invented rice pudding) was induced to build it to comemorate a couple of martyred saints in the years 379–386. The two saints, Gervasus and Protasus, had been killed during a Roman Christian purge at some stage and, apparently were buried where Ambrose built the church.
Ambrose is also buried somewhere in the church as well as King Louis II of Italy.
Actually, Ambrose was a bit manic when it came to having churches built. During his time in office, he decided to have three or four more dotted around Milan. It was during the schism in the Catholic church and he was for the pope while the others were not. All a bit stupid but that’s religion for you.
Of course, the allies during the Second World War blew the shit out of it which makes me wonder what god thought of that. The place was extensively restored afterwards. Fortunately, the wonderful golden mosaic of Christ the Procrastinator looks as good as new.
Given our advancing ages, it was pretty apparent that we needed to wind up our day of visiting and head back to the flat for a pre-dinner rest. Besides, our heads were pretty full.
Then, to round the day off perfectly, we had dinner at another Italian reastaurant, this time one that specialises in seafood.
We have really lucked out as far as places to eat go and tonight was no exception. Delicious. This place gets top marks from the Weasels.
One of things I missed out on seeing when we were in Milan in 2018 was the Museo del Novecento. It is right next to the duomo and is not new. I guess the whole religious ediface is a bit all encompassing the first time you visit and you can’t be expected to notice the delightful building next door.
I did not make that mistake this time.
Of course, this time there was an extra special reason for going there. During the last series of lectures I had with the National Gallery, Lucrezia mentioned a tryptich that was held here, at the gallery. So, of course, I definitely wanted to see it.
But I wasn’t going just for the tryptich. The gallery holds an amazing wealth of art of the 20th century. The clue is in the name. The collection is that of Milan itself and is only a small part of the whole but what an amazing small part.
So many works I had heard about but not seen in real life. I was like a sugar starved boy in a sweet shop. I admit that I gawped a lot as I moved from work to work, entranced.
Of course there was the tryptich by Umberto Boccioni which I’d specifically come to see.
States of Mind – The Farewells, Those who leave and Those that stay (1911) by Umberto Boccioni (1882-1916)
The photo does not do the paintings justice but it is important to see them together rather than in isolation. I stood and stared for quite a while, noticing the stillness in the first, the movement and joy in the second and the final, sadness in the third. Beautiful works.
But there were so many more. A stunning yet tiny Kandinsky, a couple by Picasso, some by Gino Severini…the list goes on. Actually, the one thing that I found disappointing was the lack of female artists.
In the end, I found it very difficult to pick a favourite. However, on reflection, later while sitting in our accommodation, I chose this one.
Laughing sweeper (1918) by Giacomo Balla (1871-1958)
It might not look like much but it has funny elements galore and it made me smile.
The plan I made with John and Lindy was to meet outside the cathedral by midday. They had gone inside to check it out while I checked out the beauty next door. We all met and had heaps to discuss about our various adventures. We retired to a nearby but nowhere near as many tourists cafe for coffee.
Last night I discovered that Milan has a castle. It was built for the Sforza family, the mortal enemies of the Medicis. Given I’m definitely a Florentine when it comes to Italian familes of the past, I try not to take a lot of notice of what the enemy is up to. That is why I had no idea they had a castle.
That’s my excuse, anyway.
I mentioned the fact to John so, of course, we had to go and visit this extraordinary structure.
It was first built in around 1358 for local nobleman and rich bastard, Galeazzo II Visconti but, when Francesco Sforza was busy killing and fighting various people, he decided he needed a fort and, given he lived not far from Galeazzo’s place, decided he wanted it.
Sforza called the great Italian architect, Filarete and had it extensively redecorated. He also had a lot more bricks added and a very deep moat around it.
Of course, Francesco didn’t live to see the completion of the fortress so his son, Galeazzo Maria carried on with the works. Or rather he had some other people do the work while he cracked the whip and dreamed up ways of killing other members of the population that he didn’t particularly like. Typical Sforza.
The tower, in the middle of the photo above is named for Bona of Savoy, the Duchess of Milan who was the second wife of Galeazzo Maria who wound up being assassinated in 1476. Serves him right. Upon his demise, his young son was to take his position as Duke but he was way too young and his mum, Bona, took over as his regent. And she did a great job. So the tower is named after her.
Incidentally, “…Bona was to have been betrothed to Edward IV of England, until his secret marriage to Elizabeth Woodville was revealed. She showed her resentment in later years by refusing to contemplate a marriage between either of her daughters and one of Edward’s sons.” Bona’s entry on Wikipedia
Ludivicio Sforca became the Duke of Milan in 1494 and he got Leonardo da Vinci in to paint a few frescos for him in order to give the castle a bit of gravitas. He also painted vegetables in some of the rooms.
And so the history goes on. And on. Until today when we visited.
It is an extraordinary place made with around 75 million bricks and I’m certain a lot of blood sweat and tears from the actual people who did the work while the toffs watched and did fuck all but kill the peasants of other toffs that they didn’t like.
These days, us peasants can wander around as much as we want and marvel at the building skills rather than the wankers who financed the build. And it was free. Unless you wanted to visit the insides then you had to pay. We were more interested in finding lunch so we didn’t pay and went to look for a cafe instead.
Which we did find right next to the entrance to the Metro station we needed to reach the flat.
Over lunch, John and I watched fascinated as two engineer type chaps repaired some sort of Internet cable thingy that normally lives down, under the footpath. It was painstaking and involved lots of very fine wires. John reckoned it was something to do with fibre optics.
Whatever they were doing, we found it intriguing, as did another passerby who stopped to ask what they were doing. It was very much a male thing.
For lunch, John and I had osso bucco with saffron risotto which was pretty damn special. Lindy just went for the risotto.
After stuffing ourselves, we headed back to the flat for a much needed break.
Eventually, once lunch had gone down, we decided to try another very Italian restaurant not far from the accommodation, for dinner. And what a brilliant idea that was.
The Osteria Nuovo Convento it was called and the food was simple and superb. In particular the gnocchi and gorgonzola. I don’t think I’ve ever tasted such an amazing sauce. It was so good, we booked for Friday night as well.
Afterwards, we slowly strolled back to the flat to retire after a long day.
Oh and by the way, this is where the title of the post comes from:
Dance first think later (2021) by Marinella Senatore (1977-)
So, this morning, I left the Cristal Hotel in Frankfurt, which I wholly recommend, by the way, and walked across to Frankfurt Hbf. That took me all of five minutes. Then I needed to find coffee. I guess I could have had a coffee back at the hotel but I really wanated a latte so headed to the station instead.
There are very few places to sit at Frankfurt Hbf. There are high tables outside the concession stands but that’s it. Upon searching, however, I found a place that had seats, proper tables and coffee. The perfect spot to wait for my train to Milan via Zurich.
It gave me time to think about why I liked the hotel so much. Of course there was the tattoed lady at reception who spoke 300 lamguages fluently and joked a lot in all of them. Then, of course, there was the amazing shower. Proper glass screen, wonderful pressure and scalding hot. There was even a grab rail.
Seriously, I didn’t want to leave.
But, of course, leave I must. And, eventually my train pulled into the platform, ten minutes late.
Train 7: Frankfurt Hbf to Zurich
Because it wasn’t really late enough, after it cleared the station, it slowed down and stopped, waiting for another five minutes. This was fine. I knew, from experiences of the past, that the train would arrive in Switzerland on time just because that is the way of things.
I settled back and relaxed. Read a bit, watched a bit of the new, rather odd version of the Lizzie Bordon story and just stared out of the window.
And, would you believe it? I know I did. We arrived in Basel, Switzerland dead on time. I don’t know how this happens but, there you go. It does and it did.
It was then just a final run to Zurich, where we arrived three minutes early.
There was 30 minutes before my train, which was a good thing because my carriage was so far down platform 7 that I expected to arrive in Milan before I reached it.
That was a slight exaggeration.
Train 8: Zurich to Milan
Of course, being out of Germany, things just improved and improved. I arrived yesterday, before I left Hamburg and…don’t be silly Gary.
The journey on this final train was gorgeous. We skirted a big lake for most of it, dipping in and out of long tunnels only to emerge into high mountains, scattered with cows that had shorter legs on the uphill side. It was truly beautiful. As was the view of the lake.
Then we arrived in Italy. I was sure the clocks would start speeding up in order to make us properly late but, no, it seems that the facists have finally got ther trains to run on time. At least they did mine today. I arrived at Milan Central dead on time. Extraordinary.
Actually, it wasn’t my final train. I had to take the Metro two stops to get to our accommodation. And, I feel I have to say, Milan Central could do with better signage. Or, rather, some signage.
Train 9: Milan Central to Loreto via M2 Green Line
I have to admit, I really have no idea how I got from the Milan railway station central concourse to Green Metro Line 2 and then onto a train to Loreto, but I did. It was Weasel Instinct guiding me, I’m certain. It didn’t help being rush hour.
Anyway, I eventually found my way back up onto the street and headed for the flat where I was met by the charming Francesco who showed me around the apartment and instructed me in the use of the many, many keys.
Then I waited for John and Lindy to arrive. I may have written some of this blog while I waited.
They turned up, walking from the Loreto Metro stop, the same as I did. I met them on the corner so I could show them how to acces the Flat of Many Doors and the Keys That Go In Them. We had very important cups of tea and coffee before heading out for dinner.
Where we are there are plenty of crap places to eat but John found the pearl among the swine. Osteria il Melograno is just the other side of Piazzali Loreto from where we are staying in Pavlova Street*. The woman running it made up a couple of tables and sat us down.
We were treated like family. She served some delicious meals (she is from Puglia and a lot of the meals are traditionally from there) and had a splendid time. So much so that we will probably eat there again.
Having stuffed ourselves, we then returned to the flat, unlocking and locking the thousand doors before deciding who was sleeping where. The flat soon filled with contented snoozing.
Tomorrow we start our assault on Milan.
* It’s not really called Pavlova Street but it looks enough like it for an Australian to instantly rename it Pavlova.
You better strap yourself in, folks, this is going to be a bumpy ride. As I sit writing this, it is hard to believe that about 12 hours ago, I was happily sitting in Starbucks at Copenhagen station, waiting for my train. It feels like weeks ago.
It all started so pleasantly.
Train 4: Copenhagen to Hamburg
Interestingly, this was a Czech Railways train terminating in Prague. And it was very comfortable. I had a window seat reserved for the not particularly mobile. I had lots of room.
That’s me on the right
Now, I had planned well ahead knowing I was going to have to change trains at Hamburg. I am too well seasoned by my previous journies not to know I need a LOT of time for change overs given the fact that trains are regularly delayed and, sometimes, removed from service in Germany. I had a very reasonable one hour and one minute wait between trains.
As it turned out, this was only just enough.
As the train headed through the countryside, we gradually lost time. By the time we reached Hamburg-Altona, one stop before Hamburg Hbf, we were 25 minutes behind any sort of schedule. That’s okay, I reasoned, I’d still have plenty of time. The trip to Hamburg Hbf is only ten minutes.
Stupid Gaz.
A few fellow passengers left the train and the few remaining, including me, were starting to get a bit concerned as the train remained standing at the platform.
Eventually, a German and English speaking woman went to check on the train guard to ask what was happening. She came back to report that the train was now broken and they were trying to fix it. The guard had no idea if this would take five minutes, five hours or five days.
We stoical, remaing passengers decided to give up, leave the train and head down to the S-Bahn. The German and English speaking woman said she was going to go to the loo first and ducked into the toilet. Oh what a wise decision that was.
I stepped off the train, followed by another two couples. We started dragging our bags along the platform. We passed the train guard who was just standing in the doorway of the next carriage. Then the doors closed and the train pulled out of the station, heading as happy as Thomas would, to Hamburg Hbf.
That was annoying.
And so was this: I wanted to include a video of the train screen showing the explanation for the 25 minute delay but youtube is making it impossible so, bugger it. Here’s a photo instead.
Unexpected train 5: S-Bahn train from Hamburg-Altona to Hamburg Hbf
First I had to find the S-Bahn then which train to catch. This was after almost running to get there. I also had to buy a ticket. Then, of course, just as I reached the platform, the train left the station without me. I then had an agonising 10 minute wait for the next one.
The trip in the S-Bahn would take 12 minutes and I had 10 minutes to wait. There was still enough time for me to make my connection to Frankfurt. If there were no more delays.
There were no further delays and I pulled into Hamburg Hbf with ten minutes to get from platform 1 to platform 14 then walk the length of it to get to my carriage. This is when it is really handy to know the station. I knew exactly where to go.
I just made it and collapsed into a super comfortable seat on my next train.
Shortly after the train pulled out, a very nice man handed me a latte. Though, of course, I didn’t get my usual bratwurst.
Train 6: Hamburg Hbf to Frankfurt Hbf
After all the excitement at getting around and through Hamburg, this, my final train for the day was smooth as silk with no problems, no crowds and no unexpectexd delays caused by German rail infrastructure.
Frankfurt Hbf
It was another three and a half hours but I reached my hotel at around 20:30 and went straight into the shower before collapsing on the bed.
And so begins another Weasel adventure; this year a return to Italy. And, while our usual visit to Naples is included, we will also be spending time in Milan and Bologna. This morning, I started the long journey south.
Train 1: Vagnhärad to Norrköping
Normally I start my train trips south at Södertälje Syd but for reasons known only to SJ, this Sunday I had to join at Norrköping. While not really a problem, it does create an extra level of frustration, given the unreliability of our trains because of the single track issue.
This platform maybe deserted but the train was packed
Still, there is no point in worrying about things you have no power to change so I sat back and read about fungi.
And the trip was completely uneventuful and the train actually arrived on time which, while lovely, meant an extra wait at Norrköping because my train to Malmo was delayed. Which was fine. I just sat and waited.
The day was lovely and a delight to be outside.
Train 2: Norrköping to Malmö
Once again, I was lucky enough to reserve a single seat (13 in coach 1) and I settled down with a coffe and an apple for the three and half hour fast train journey.
Again, nothing much happened although there was one moment of crazy action.
A woman sitting across and in front of me was typing away at something on her laptop, completely oblivious to the world, a serious look on her face. She absently reached down and took out a bottle of fizzy water from her bag and opened it, not taking her eyes off her screen. As she screwed the lid off, the water exploded out, covering both her and her laptop.
Suddenly, serviettes began to rain down upon her. She was surprised and delighted in equal measure. A young fellow sitting opposite her even went to the coffee corner and grabbed her a handful more. While I think she would have preferred not to have been fizzed all over, she was glad there were so many helpful people surrounding her.
I should add that none of them knew her. She got off at a completely different station.
And so, we gradually pulled in to Malmö station.
At the door, waiting impatiently for our arrival, his knuckles white from gripping his bag, was one fellow who was swearing under his breath, his frustration at the late running train pretty obvious. The rest of us, standing patiently behind him, remained sensibly silent, looking everywhere but at him, as he cursed the train company and whatever personal god or gods he worshipped.
As soon as the door opened, prompted by his insistent stabbing of the button, he was off and running. I have no idea what he was late for but hope, for anyone else he might meet, he made his connection.
Train 3: Malmö to Copenhagen
Something I really like about being a seasoned train traveller is knowing which platform to go to, where it is, and knowing where to stand.
Of course, nothing prepares you for when one of your rubber bands snaps on your braces. Fortunately, I had spares and quickly attached a new one before anything disasterous occured.
And so, across The Bridge and into Copenhagen I went, arriving at central at about 16:00, where the central court is being completely rebuilt. It was well on its way when I went to Toulouse and it seems to have had some more work done but it is going to take some more considerable time before anyone can actually visit a concession.
I knew exactly where my hotel was (not the usual Good Morning Star because the rates were astronomical when I originally booked but a small hostel across the road) and was soon dumping my stuff, lying down for a bit then off for a bit of a wander around Copenhagen.
I didn’t feel like eating much so I popped into the Tivoli food hall and had an egg and shrimp Smørrebrød and apple juice before returning to my hotel for the night. I have an early start tomorrow ahead of a long trip to Frankfurt.
This afternoon we attended the first Kammarmusik concert of the out of season season, at Skärborgarnas Hus. And it was a doozy. An extraordinary Hamburg virtuoso pianist called Anton Gerzenberg. From a family of musicians, he shines. It was an amazing concert.
We were treated to, mostly early 20th century pieces, giving the audience a glimpse into the style changes that music underwent as the new century dawned. To my ears, it reflected the artistic movements away from the ‘pretty pictures’. Sort of getting away from the tinkling keys and going more for the turbulent truth of the age.
I don’t know a lot about this period of music but, having sat through this brilliant concert, I feel I added a little bit more to my meagre knowledge. And I thank Mr Gerzenberg for that. He really is amazing.
I should also thank Lasse for having Emma while we went. I have been a bit worried about leaving her alone. After all, she has never been alone without either Day-z or Freya for company. And, unlike Freya, she wouldn’t just sleep. I feel certain she would fret.
Anyway, Lasse loves looking after Emma and, it seems, they had a lovely time. When Mirinda picked her up, she says, it sounded like they had been listening to opera.
Most of the rest of the day was spent packing for my impending train journey to Italy. I leave tomorrow to join the first contingent of Weasels in Milan followed by Naples.
The only other thing I did was go shopping for supplies for Mirinda during my absence. As I was leaving the car park, I noticed a discarded banana peel that appeared to be running from something. I guess it could have been a car.
I am easily halfway through the latest BookBusters volume. It is about fungus and how everything flora is connected. It is a fascinating book which I am enjoying a lot. And, as a result, I think, I am seeing a lot of it about. Of course, that could also be because of all the rain we’ve been subjected to lately.
What the book hasn’t told me yet was which ones I could eat. Therefore, they have remained in the ground.
Mind you, this morning, I did think I saw a bunch of chanterelles in our front garden only to have my joy dashed when I discovered it was just an Autumn branch sticking up from the ground.
Not that there were many mushrooms involved in my day today. It was more about preparing for dinner tonight. I had said I would make moussaka and learned a while ago that it is always better when prepared ahead of time. It sort of sets so is easier to apportion; it doesn’t fall into a sloppy mess on the plate.
So, from around 9am until 13:30, I was in the kitchen cooking away. The rest of the meal could wait until our guests arrived. Mind you, I did make the crème brûlées yesterday so they only needed blasting with my new blowtorch. The scallops, on the other hand, went into the pan shortly after they arrived. The guests, I mean, not the scallops.
To accompany the scallops, I made a savoury sabayon created by Rachel Khoo which worked really well. Mind you, standing whisking non-stop for ten minutes over a bubbling bain-marie, was a bit time-consuming. Worth it, though and, apparently, Jonas LOVES scallops.
I feel I should mention here that one of the beaters from my hand mixer broke while I was making the brûlées yesterday. There was the risk that a small piece of black plastic was buried deep inside one of them. I had to come clean before we started dessert. I felt a bit like Monica in Friends but, I explained, I didn’t really want to throw them all away and start again.
As it turned out, no-one had a little bit of black plastic in their crème brûlée…or they swallowed it without realising.
Our guests, KSP and Jonas, were with us, making up for the cancelled meal last week. The chat was pretty much non-stop with bouquets and barbs flying in all directions. At one point Jonas declared that KSP was a very good wife except he didn’t. He was misquoted. Turns out there was no ‘very‘.
Oh, how we laughed.
Actually, there was lots of fun, laughter and devouring of food. It was a great night.
And my moussaka turned out beautifully.
It should be noted that I used the blowtorch to brown off the lighter bit on the left. It is because my oven cooks unevenly, and I’m an inattentive cook who forgets to turn things round halfway through. I can just hear Geraldine saying “Could do better!“
The yellow house, down the road from us, the one that the princess lives in, recently acquired a load of chickens. They seem to be released every morning and roam around the gardens either side of the yellow house, along the grass verges, pecking around the hedges, trees and parked cars. They are healthy looking, free ranging birds. Up until this morning, I had yet to see them on the road though Eva had told us that she had seen them in the road a few weeks ago.
I was walking back from the ICA this morning, having just spoken to Eva as she headed for the gym, when I spotted two adventurous hens striding across the tarmac, intent on breaching the garden opposite the yellow house.
Then, as I rounded the corner leading to our house, Bengt drove up and stopped to chat. He was off to a lunch. I pointed out the chickens. He then told me, in passing, that they were probably going to take the boat out of the water this afternoon when he returned.
Apparently the water has risen by 30cm which makes it difficult to get the boat out. I don’t know why. They have a sailboat so perhaps it’s something to do with that. Obviously, The Bob would never be put off by a rise in water level.
At home, there was a bit of admin and general housework until it was time to make my crème brûlées for tomorrow’s dinner. We are having KSP and Jonas over. This is to make up for last week’s cancellation because of Freya.
After the brûlées were in the fridge, I made dinner before heading out for one of the final Riksteatern meetings before it all closes down.
It was just three us physically in the room with Asa and Irene on phones.
Peter was pretty philosophical about it all and the meeting had a general air of finality. Of course there are still two more shows to put on first but then, apart from a couple of required meetings, it will all come to a halt. This is what happens when the public no longer want to buy what you’re selling. Sad but true.
I had a lovely walk home afterwards. The churchyard looked delightfully ethereal.
Mirinda didn’t come to the meeting (she’ll be attending next week’s extraordinary one while I’m in Italy with the Weasels) as she had a digital Gathering at home.
And, just in passing, I am currently rereading Good as Gold by Joseph Heller and came across this passage which reminded me why I love his writing.
‘I got a better grade on all the papers I copied from you, didn’t I?’ Ralph reminded him. ‘Bruce, this President is a very busy man. He has to keep doing so many things a lot faster than he’s able to write about them, even when he’s doing nothing more than writing about all the things he’s supposed to be doing. That’s why he needs all the help he can get. Bruce, have you ever thought of working in government?’
