Postcards from Italia
"Bevilo Tutto, Bevilo Tutto."
Brad & Ed’s Excellent Adventure
Allora! Week two of my Italian adventure with photographer Ed Anderson has begun and as I write this dispatch I’m in my room at the Hotel degli Orafi in Florence, Italy, a stone’s throw from Ponte Vecchio, the Medieval stone bridge lined with expensive jewelry shops that was once a boulevard for Florence’s noble class. Our research and photography trip for the new book I’m working on, Bere Italiano (I hope my publisher likes this new working title as it’s proven to be a popular choice among the Italians I’ve shared it with so far), has hit the midway mark as we push on to cover as much ground as we can.
Soon we’ll be driving up to Modena to visit Mercato Storico Albinelli, a covered market whose roots date back to the early 1900s. Maybe we’ll see chef Massimo Bottura making the rounds? Then after lunch we’ll make our way to Camerino in the Marche to have dinner with Orietta Varnelli, followed by a visit to the Distilleria Varnelli the next morning in Muccia. After that we’ll be celebrating the end of Carnevale in Ascoli Piceno with the famiglia Meletti.
I know this doesn’t really sound like work, but trust me, it is (and believe me, I’m incredibly grateful to have such an opportunity). We’ve been operating on little sleep with early wake-up calls and long drives. Ed and I traveled around Italy together in 2015 for Amaro, so we slip into an easy groove together, but I do wish we had room to have someone riding along to document our misadventures and help out with the driving.
Some observations and lessons learned about traveling through Italy:
Speaking Italian: Despite my 362-day-long Duolingo streak, my Italian needs a lot of work. My vocabulary has improved tremendously and my ear for understanding the language when others speak it is strong. But beyond greetings and ordering food and drink I’m more timid. I need to remedy that. That many Italians speak English helps me out but we have had several moments of “lost in translation” rounds of charades to communicate with each other.
What Does It Mean to Drink Like an Italian?: I’ve posed this question to each of my interview subjects and the answers have been both informative and highly entertaining. I’ve adopted the Italian approach to drinking here and so far have consumed countless caffè, wine (a lot of sparkling and Lambrusco), beer, grappa, mirto, ratafia, cassis, vin santo, sambuca, anisette, amaro, all the aperitivo classics, and many, many cocktails.
Pranzo: After, “Would you like a caffè?”, the first question at any morning appointment I’ve had with a producer is, “Can you stay for lunch?” I would never say no to an Italian inviting me to lunch, even if it means we’ll be at least two hours late to our next location. In fact, on this trip lunch has been our primary meal of the day, (our dinners have mostly been fueled by aperitivo snacks).
Size Matters: I am what you might kindly call a husky fellow and feel more embarrassed than usual for that fact of life. Elevators here are tiny. The city streets we drive on are impossibly narrow. Pours of water are miniscule. And don’t get me started on the hotel shower situation.
Driving in Italy: We discovered right away that all the proposed drive times I had listed in our Itinerary are way off. I’ve been averaging 130-140 kilometers/hour (80-87 miles/hour) when I’m behind the wheel and that seems exciting until you’re barely keeping up with traffic. I’ve quickly grown tired of all the roundabouts. Tool booths are stressful. Once we navigate to the biglietto lane to pay our toll, the way you either insert or tap your credit card varies and is often rejected by an automated voice of a woman speaking quickly in Italian as you hope the gate will open. And driving in Italy involves parking in Italy. We’ve been doing the valet option at most hotels but valet in Italy often means having to parks blocks away from the actual hotel and at least an hour’s notice to get your car back. Last night trying to navigate back to our hotel found us at a dead end in the middle of a pedestrians-only piazza, and our first encounter with la polizia.
Autogrill: But my favorite part of driving in Italy is Autogrill, the national chain of roadside rest stops throughout Italy. Each Autogrill varies in size and available services—from small outposts about the size of an American convenience store to multi-story operations that span across highways. You can gas up your car, have a stand-up caffè, load up on candy, shop for toys to keep your kids entertained in the car, have a pasta or a salad, or a host of sandwich options. Some even have an expansive market section with iconic Italian foodstuffs like mortadella, prosciutto, olive oil, mozzarella cheese, and on and on. I’m very grateful when we see an Autogrill sign to take a much-needed break from a four-hour drive for a snack and to stretch my legs.