For April and part of May I will be travelling, so newsletters will be shorter and more whimsical than usual. I will concentrate on what I see and what I eat.
Italian Trains
For a Canadian used to slow passenger trains that only go between big cities, the Italian train system is a wonder; Italians might not think so, but I do.
No passenger train in Canada has ever gone that fast. I know becuase I was on the Turbo Train on April 26, 1976 when on a special press run it hit 225 km/h. The current train between Montreal and Toronto sometimes gets up to 160 km/h, a bit faster than the cars on the highway that run along beside the tracks. Canada generates so much electricity that it exports the stuff to the Americans, but Canadian trains smoke diesel. Italian trains run on electricity. No fumes. And they go everywhere.
That map leaves out some minor stations, incluidng Camogli, where I am for April.
The fastest trains are the Frecciarossa the one we were on when we took the screenshot of the train’s speed. This class of train runs between big cities. As you can see from the map above you can connect to the smallest places in the country. On our trip we went from Lamezia Terme in Calabria, to Rome. There we switched train to Rapallo in Liguria, and then a short local train to Camogli. The trip took nine hoursl. Why not take the plane? Airports are de-humanizing places. Trains are great for local travel. The other day we took a train to Recco, the next village. It took three minutes.
A slower train at Amatea by the blue Medteranean along the coast at Calabira.
Dogs, a no-no on Canadian trains, ride the rails in Italy. Cuckaloo (sp?) and his owner sitting across the aisle from us. There were other dogs that came and went.
Your faithful correcpondent taking in the passing scene.
Final stop: the local train disgorging passengers in Camogli.
The Weekly Markets in Liguria.
The street scene above in Camogli which has its weekly market every Wednesday. It moves from town to town; Recco one day and nearby Rapallo on another. The larger towns have weekend markets as well. Camogli does not.
The thing that fascinated me most is the chicken bus. This is the final product, which we took back to the apartment we are renting. You can’t eat out every night.
This is the bus that travels from town to town.
The chicken maestro shows off his mobile rotisserie.
The market stretches along half a kilometre or more and features a lot of clothes.
The made in Italy socks are magnificent. I am re-building my entire sock collection.
One of the many vegeathle trucks, which will pack up at one o’clock, complete with a view of the Golfo Paradiso, as this bit of the Mediterranean is known.
That heavy set man is one of the true characters of the market. You would need an audio clip to capture his true self. He has a loud raspy voice, is highly entertaining and gives so many free samples of his cheese and sausage it’s amazing he breaks even.
And finally, away from the market, the Risotto of the Week on Saturday night. From the Izoa on the Lungo Mare. Without doubt the best risotto I have had so far. At the end I slowed down, because I knew there were only a few bites left.