This trip from Aosta to Alba I wouldn’t recommend to anyone unless you have a bit of train experience under your belt. At some point in the day I began to question if we were a little crazy. Aosta is a very small train station maybe four tracks and Alba has about the same number. We were traveling on regional trains two of which were comprised of a single self-powered car. We changed trains twice with many stops at tiny little one track towns. For a good portion of the time we were on trains that served as school buses for high school kids from one small hamlet to another and the final leg of the journey John stood between cars managing the bags as there was no place to store them while Judy and I wedged ourselves amongst the bodies oozing hormones. At one of our stops I went to find the Toilette and you guessed it….those same floor toilets only this time multiple with privacy doors of course. I wasn’t going through that again but did have time to get my traveling compadres so they could give a look at what I had endured in Aosta. They were shocked, and yes I did take a picture.
But it got better! When we arrived at the station there were empty cabs but it took some searching to find a driver and when we did it was obvious he would prefer to sit and kibitz with fellow drivers than take us to the Euro Auto. Finally, after a rip off fare, we reached the car rental somewhere out in an industrial area. We had arranged this on line and pre-paid so things were moving forward until we asked for a GPS. They were glad to oblige but had no clue how to be sure it was set for English. John loaded our Alfa Romeo allowing Judy just enough space to wedge into the back seat, multiple Italians gathered to figure out the GPS and finally we heard English audio and off we went. Well, it wasn’t that easy because although the language was English the screen options are in French, and the GPS that we named Niles is more confused than we are most of the time.
We booked a stay at an agrituristica perched on the hillside overlooking the old city of Alba. An agrituristica is a popular lodging choice in Italy (and I’m guessing other parts of Europe). They are working farms or vineyards and are required to make no more than 40% of their revenue from the hospitality business and the balance from agriculture. Our hosts at Villa La Meridian have vineyards and orchards and have converted the former stable and peasant quarters into nine charming units of various sizes and configurations.
Piedmont is not a region that we hear as much about in the US compared to Tuscany for example. The main reason we planned this in our itinerary is that John’s paternal grandparents immigrated from tiny villages in Piedmont very near Alba. We learned after planning the trip that some of the best wines in Italy, and arguably the world, come from this region – Barolo, Barbera d’Alba and Barbaresco. They are wonderful big bodied wines which usually to me mean they are going to jump up and take a bite out of me but not these wines. And of course our dear Judy loves the biggest and badest there is, Barolo! For someone who has only begun to develop a taste for wine in the past couple of years this girl has quite the palate.
Not only are the wines beautiful but the countryside is amazing. Huge rolling hillsides covered with either orchards or vineyards. The area is famous for its truffles, namely the very expensive and rare white truffle harvested in the fall; the before mentioned beautiful red wines, and orchards of fruits and nuts which are seen in the area cuisine. Which brings me to another interesting thing that not only do the wines change but also the cuisine from region to region. You may have noticed that we talked a lot about food while in Rome and Tuscany and then not so much. That was because there really was nothing notable. In recent days we experienced Valdostan style in Aosta and in this area it is Piemontese. We see more meats than in the south and less cheeses for example. This area is the furthest north and more rugged and the cuisine reflects some of those differences. Ciao for now…..
Allore, we ventured to the old city after breakfast and found the information office, gathered some stuff and shopped a bit and then headed up to a nearby hilltop village, Grinzane di Cavour located in a very well preserved castle. We tasted some of the beautiful red wines and then onto an awesome lunch. We have found that the Italians are not terribly offended if we Americans don’t each order antipasti, followed by primi and finally secondi. Thank goodness because it seems impossible to me! So I chose only primi of a light tagnellini tossed in something wonderful with a bit of sausage and diced raw pistachios. Judy opted for something on the secondi side of the menu, beef rump incased in hazelnuts (local crop) and black truffle mashed potato. John started with primi pasta of hand rolled thick spaghetti (Pici) in a light sauce with sliced duck. He finished with roast lamb chops and baby white potatoes roasted with anchovies. I’m no judge but he and Judy said it was the best lamb they had ever wrapped their lips around. Now I am not the one to order dessert that is usually my partners in crime but this time I wanted a bite and was assured they would help me. My choice was Zuccotto Con Mousse Alla Liguirizia e Crema Di Banana. I know it is a mouth full but it was a hollow muffin size sponge cake filled with light licorice mousse and finished with a drizzle of banana cream! It was so good and once again I told our waiter I wanted to try to pronounce and order this dish and he was impressed. I was embarrassed and blushing, but it was fun. Gosh if we stayed here for 6 months we may be speaking Italian.
After such a beautiful lunch we came back to our room to rest and enjoy our view and a good book. To close the day we decided to go into town and shop a bit and maybe…just maybe grab a glass of wine. We chose our wine bar out of what seemed like hundreds and noticed people with plates of what we would call crostinis with various toppings. When our waiter arrived we ordered our wine and John asked him “What is the name for those…” while indicating the plates of crostinis. The waiter responded with a smile/wink “We call that gratis con vino” (free with wine order). We enjoyed the teasing which reminds me that we have found 99% of the people here very friendly, kind and helpful. Of course people in the service industry, but most particularly every day citizens we encounter with questions or even those that we have shared Laundromat space with always a nod and a “Buon giorno” or an “Arrive derci”. Those who can’t speak English try very hard to help and always with apologies that they don’t speak English and those who do apologize that they don’t speak better English! We have found ourselves in Italian/English charades on curbsides across Italy. The people have been the real treasure and so we close anxious to search the area for traces of John’s ancestors in the morning.
This is such a quiet and beautiful spot to spend a few nights and mornings are most beautiful. Our view is green as far as you can see and there birds are singing all day. We wake with their songs and as it is getting dark I am still enjoying their music.
We set out today after breakfast with our maps and GPS for some small villages within about 30-35 miles of Alba. Staying off the Auto Strada we could appreciate the dozens of villages either by driving through or from either side on the hilltops. From Asti (as in Spumante) we wound our way to the first village on our list, Montafia where we thought John’s paternal grandmother was born.
Let me set the stage for you, as we pulled into the small piazza there was a little café and in front sat a good half dozen gentlemen kibitzing away, much as we have seen in other small villages. The hands were flying and their musical voices just made me want to sit there and listen for awhile. You can imagine when we parked and walked across the tiny street to the Muncipio office they took notice. The clerk in the office, though very friendly, spoke no English but tried to help. We had names written down and she searched for John’s grandmother’s name with no luck. We then showed her the name of the nearby village where we thought Luigi Rosignana was born. She said “Rosignana? You are Rosingana?” held up her finger for us to wait and out the door she went. In a moment in came one of the gentlemen from the café across the street and she proudly introduced “Rosignana…..Rosignana!” Of course this gentlemen, Ugo, likely in his 80s spoke no English, but talked on and on anyway with John picking up a word here and there. He looked at our list of names and so forth, and finally headed out the door saying to wait and something about English. We waited a few minutes, thanked the Senora and left the office joining the group across the street who are anxiously searching to find someone who spoke English. Eventually an unsuspecting gentlemen came by on his way to a doctor appointment who spoke pretty good English and he put his business aside and spent likely 15 minutes with us translating and trying to sort things out. In the end, when he apologetically had to take leave for his appointment, we were not totally able to determine John’s relationship to Ugo but suspect he is a cousin at some level. This much I know, Judy and I will never forget the entire experience. John certainly will not it was a special time for him.
We moved on to another village, Piova di Massano, where we now suspected his Grandmother was born. As it turned out we were unable to find any information in this village but we did find the church of course at the top of the hill with absolutely beautiful landscape below from every vantage point. John had a chance to walk around to reflect and remember his Nona knowing that when she was a girl she played in these forests and fields. His Nona who spoke no English and who he fondly remembers calling him her “little goo gots”. He never knew for sure what that meant but it always brings a smile. It was a special time; we took pictures but there is no one barring a professional that can capture these landscapes, so it remains in our memories.
As John was growing up adults used to remind he and his piers that they should be good because they were cousins of a saint. I even remember Grandma talking about Saint Bosco and when I first met. This saint being, Saint John Bosco who founded the Salesian Order had been a juggler as a boy and had a vision to be a missionary and care for children. Just as St Francis stood for animals, Saint John Bosco stood for children. He thrived in the 19th century and is responsible for the care of thousands of orphans and poor children worldwide in the past and still today. We were thrilled to find the place of his birth and the seminary where missionaries are trained which included a museum and beautiful cathedral. John, having heard about this man his entire life and having a spirit for mission, was deeply moved by the experience of seeing how the choices of one young boy could impact the world for generations and to think that in some way he had a family connection to all that.
And so after a day of history and reflection we ended our day, and soon our time in Piedmont, with a Traveling Trio picnic in our room. I know, we should be out drinking fabulous wine and eating truffles in a fine restaurant, but call us boring we choose some cheese, salami, olives and wine in our little hillside vineyard. Tomorrow on to the final leg of this trip, Santa Margarita Ligure and the Italian Rivera!
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