Villa Singer and a wedding.

Yesterday was a wedding.

An Italian wedding. But not like an Italian wedding at all. There weren’t a thousand and one guests; there wasn’t a wedding breakfast which had 100 courses; there wasn’t a white dress or top hats and tails. It was, in fact, more like a small, intimate party. And it was truly lovely.

This was one of F’s childhood friends, P, getting married to a banker, A, even though he looks nothing like a banker should look. I have never known P without A and, so, to me they are perfectly right for each other. She, apparently, was a bit wild in her youth (so was F) but can still be a little unexpected now.

The wedding ceremony took place in Piazza Reale, a stone’s throw from the Duomo. It was conducted by one of her ex-boyfriends.

Apart from the happy couple, and F and his friend R, I knew only one other person – L who bears a striking resemblance to Betty Boop! Only a tad older.

We were late for the ceremony (of course), arriving some few minutes after it all started. It had started at 10.

F took photographs. Lots of photographs.

The day was lovely but not too hot. The groom was dressed in white trousers with a white T-shirt and loose white scoop-neck top. The bride wore white trousers, similar top with an off-white jacket. She had had some braiding in her hair and looked lovely.

After the ceremony we went, by metro to Villa Singer (pronounced singe – er). We arrived about mid-day.

The first picture you see on the link was, more or less, how it was. It’s a not-so-big garden, next to one of Milan’s old canals. Tranquil, beautiful and the perfect setting for a wedding reception. It wasn’t many courses but, rather, a buffet that included fried courgette flowers, oysters, grilled green chilli-like peppers with anchovies, courgette mouse, vegetarian lasagne and a cake that was beautiful sponge covered with lashings of whipped cream and raspberries and strawberries. I had two slices :-)

There was prosecco (Italian champagne) and white wine or, for those who were not drinking, water and grapefruit juice. I wasn’t one of the last group.

We drank and ate and chatted and laughed. There were about 25 people so large enough not to get bored but small enough that you chatted to everyone and I met some really nice people (which is normal). It was all delightful.

Inside the house the rooms, full of antique furniture were open for you to walk round – and I did for a few moments.

But it was all so relaxed and, even if it is an overused word, nice. It was like being at a small garden party with friends, drinking in the afternoon sun (in both senses).

I watched F, from time to time, being the joker and centre of attention – but not in a bad way. Everyone loves him but I adore him. Someone (it may have been Betty Boop) asked if I would marry him and I said that I would. Of course I would.

And, if we did get married, I would want a wedding like this.

We left about 6. It was wonderful and I was really happy that I had been asked to go and that we went.

Dino goes abroad

Oh yes, we have photos. Lots of them.

99% of which are of Dino.

It was a Dino holiday. And his first time abroad. I’d taken his passport, just in case, but it wasn’t needed.

Sure we saw some nice buildings and museums – but only from the outside. The program for each day was – 9 – 10 a.m. – Take Dino for a walk. Maybe have coffee or lunch. Walk around. 3 – 6 p.m. – Return to the flat we had rented and rest. All of us. 8 – 9 p.m. – Leave Dino in the flat and go out.

Bless him, he was so exhausted.

We walked in parks; around buildings; up and down Vienna.

One time, we met up with an old friend/colleague of F’s, for lunch. The weather was spectacular and this particular day, very hot. We sat ourselves down at one of the tables outside.

I said, “I need to go to the bathroom but when the waitress comes, can you ask for some water for Dino, please?”

I came back and Dino had water. Apparently, the waitress had come to the table with a dog bowl full of water BEFORE she brought the menus! How good is that?

And he was loved even more than in Italy. Children wanted to stroke him; people stopped us and asked if he was a Bobtail (Old English Sheepdog). He was, in fact, the centre of attention nearly all the time.

I think he liked going abroad. Especially as he was with us nearly all the time. :-D

Holiday and illness

“The first time we book a holiday and THIS happens”.

He was really upset, even if it’s not. It is neither the first time we’ve booked a holiday nor the first time he’s got ill when we’ve been going to do something.

But he is genuinely upset as it is an important holiday. For ’tis the trip to Vienna.

For him: the most wonderful city in the world and where he would like to live.

For me: Much further North than I care to be. Risk of severe cold and rain (although, thank goodness, not snow).

On the plus side – they do strudel – which is the only thing that, for me, Austria has going for it. I remember the last time in Austria – a holiday, in August. the day after we left, they had severe flooding in the valley we had been in because it had not stopped raining for two weeks – the very same two weeks we were there. OK, I exaggerate a bit (but only a bit – we did have one or two nice days). But, there was the strudel!

But back to this trip.

It is an important trip in many ways. He wants to ‘show me round’ and, quite possibly, for me to love it as he does; he wants to visit the mother of a close friend who committed suicide (not long after we met); his friend (who lives there) REALLY wants us to come. I guess that’s enough reasons.

And we’re taking Dino.

Except, of course, for this small hiccough.

“It says 37.4″, he tells me after he has taken his temperature.

But I am crap at all this sort of stuff.

“Is that bad?”, I ask, adding, “I don’t know what it’s supposed to be”. He tells me what it’s supposed to be. I have already forgotten but something like 36, I think. Let’s be honest, later, I felt his forehead and it was very hot. I don’t need a thermometer to tell me he has a fever.

But he has a determination about this. He really, really wants to go. Or, maybe, he really, really wants to take me. Or Dino. One of those things anyway.

So, in spite of the fact that he had the same temperature at 7 this morning, he has taken Dino to the hairdressers and, I suspect, we shall go anyway, taking plenty of Lemsips with us!

So I shan’t be posting for the next (almost) week whilst we are driving to and from and staying in, Vienna. I have no computer and no computer access. Bliss :-)

In any event, I love going on holiday with him and, to be honest, I don’t care where we go, as long as we’re together.

Although the strudel is sounding rather good :-)

Hotel Castelbarco; Bergamo – Città Alta; Crespi d’Adda – a night away

Sorry. Been busy. Still am.

But taking a break for a moment.

Saturday night we spent in a hotel not far from Milan, the Hotel Castelbarco, near Vaprio d’Adda.

Vaprio is a small town just outside Milan, on the river Adda, hence its name.

It was a Groupon voucher thing that I got about 6 months ago and, so, as normal, we were running out of time!

It was for one night’s B&B.

The hotel was formerly the stables, etc. of a rather grand house, now used for functions (such as weddings). The grounds are spread along the river Adda. To the left of the great house are the stables and so on (now the hotel) and to the right are some other buildings (maybe new) that are now a restaurant, bar and night club complex (more on that later).

To be honest, I wouldn’t say the hotel was WOW! but it was quite nice and very, very clean. The breakfast was ample. As normal with Italian hotels that have been converted, the walls are paper thin and the woman with her stilettos that she continued to wear as (it seemed) she danced for an hour round the room next door, didn’t help. But, that aside, it was fine.

We arrived at something like 3 p.m. on the Saturday afternoon. It had been raining on and off. Fine rain or drizzle, not the normal Italian downpour, thank goodness.

We got in our room and dumped everything and left for Bergamo.

I’ve always wanted to visit Bergamo, more famed by the British for it’s airport that receives Ryanair jets from the UK. But there are two Bergamos – Bassa and Alta – and I had heard that Bergamo Alta was really quite a lovely city – being the original city built long before flying started and, as normal in Italy, on a hill.

And, pretty it was. A small medieval town with cobbled, narrow streets opening out, from time to time, on small squares or, in one case, the Piazza Vecchio (Old Square).

The cathedral (although it might just be a church) was wonderful, if not a little strange. There seemed to be a great mix of styles from Medieval to baroque – but it was lovely. We were both hungry so stopped for some lunch at Al Donizetti.

Although there was some very fine rain, it didn’t seem so cold and there was, waht seemed like, an old ‘market place’ under which they had tables. People were there eating without coats and so we chose to eat ‘outside’. that was possibly a mistake as it started to rain heavily and we ended up not taking our coats off at all!

It was also very touristy. But, then, the whole of Bergamo was very touristy – full of restaurants and bars, particularly those advertising their beers.

But the food was good and the service pleasant and, had it been a little warmer, it would have been lovely. We shared a plate of cold meats including lardo and some rather fine boiled and cured hams and then F had some polenta with mushrooms in a sauce and I had tomasino (a flat round cheese) with speck (they said it would be ‘crispy’ but it wasn’t so I wondered if that got lost in translation) on a bed of raddicchio done in a red wine sauce. It was rather lovely. The wine was good.

The only thing that let it down, in my opinion, was the sweets. I’m sure they were home-made but the pear and chocolate tart that I had was neither chocolatey nor pearey enough for me. The ricotta cake that F had was, to me, just stodgy without real taste . However, overall it was good.

We walked around the town for a bit, in, what was now, drizzle and light rain or, occasionally, no rain at all!

It was all very nice.

We had decided that, rather than eat in Bergamo and then have to drive to the hotel afterwards, we would go back to the hotel and eat there.

And so we did.

To get to the restaurant from the hotel, one can walk but, given that it could rain at any time, we drove.

The car park was overflowing. It made us a bit worried that the restaurant would be full. We eventually found the entrance (for it was not well signposted) and it was, in fact, the entrance to the bar and nightclub. When we explained that we wanted to go to the restaurant, he took us through to it.

If I say that it was being in a restaurant of a fairly cheap, 90s hotel, I think you’ll get the idea. If it wasn’t that I really didn’t want to have to drive around (having already have had a little less than half a bottle of wine at lunchtime), I would have suggested going somewhere – anywhere – else.

But it was all too late now. We were in Cubeba, famed, according to its card, for food, drink and dance!

And the food was more like something one would receive at Little Chef! Don’t get me wrong, Little Chefs are great places for food – for a very reasonable price. This was overpriced and the musak far too loud (to drive out the sound of the bar music, I suppose). I mean, it was OK but nothing WOW!

However, next door, it seemed the whole of Vaprio and it’s surrounding villages had come for they were having a ‘Fashion Night’. We went out for a cigarette at one point but, because we had to go through (a little bit) the bar, we had to have our hand stamped to prove we were entitled to go back in without having to pay! Not really what I expect from any decent restaurant.

The waitress, who seemed new, tried her best and, so, for us, we left a good tip. For the food I would have taken some money away! For the ambience, we should have had the whole thing free.

However, F did notice that, on Friday nights, they had their ‘Beautiful People’ night. It made us both laugh.

The next day, after breakfast, I had planned to take F to Crespi d’Adda, where he had never been.

It is a ‘workers village’ built by the Crespi family to house the workers for the factory they built next to the village. They say he was inspired by the model villages he saw in the UK during a trip there and I guess they were right in that it does have quite an ‘English’ feel to it.

I had been worried because of the rain forecast but, in the end, we were lucky with sunshine and warmth and a lovely trip round the village. This time I had looked it up on the net (see link above) and so had a better idea of where to go and what to see. It was a shame we couldn’t really get to see the owner’s ‘castle’ but the rest of it was just as I remembered it. F really enjoyed it.

Then we came home as F had to get ready to go to Germany which is where he is now.

Overall I would give 3 or 4 stars to the hotel, 4 stars to the restaurant in Bergamo and 1 star (for the waitress) for Cubeba. Next time I’ll try and remember to find out about the hotel restaurant first, before we try it!

Is that I or we?

Of course, one must be careful. Things get lost in translation. The difference between “I” and “we” is huge – to us, native speakers of English. To those to whom it is a second language, it’s not that clear cut.

However, “We can live together and save some money. Not now but soon.” and “Then we can retire here.” are quite significant. And I’m pretty sure a mistake wasn’t made.

We were (well, he was) talking about the house, here, by the sea. It needs some work to be made comfortable but could be lovely with a garden for the dogs too. He wants to do it up but a) it will cost money and b) his brother (who shares it with him) doesn’t have the money …… nor a job.

Even if I’m not as clean and tidy as he would like, I’m obviously not that bad.

It was a nice few days away, even if the weather wasn’t always that kind to us. There was the Golden Wedding Anniversary party for his parents – it was a meal in an agriturismo. There was a lot of food but I was careful not to each too much and said ‘no’ on more than one occasion (I know, I even amaze myself sometimes!). His parents knew that the children would be there but not that so many other friends and family would be there so it was (apparently because I was getting stuff out of the car at the time) a very nice surprise for them. There was a lot of emotion. F is not good with emotion, I’ve found. Still, it was a lovely party, even if the weather wasn’t so nice.

His family are lovely to me. His mum calling me ‘Wendy’ which has become ‘the joke’ with me. For some reason, she can’t say ‘Andy’. At one point she confused me with S, F’s ex. For me, it was something of a compliment. I don’t look anything like S but I am obviously thought of in much the same way – and they like him and still ask after him.

Even if we came back early because of the torrential rain on Monday, it was a lovely trip.

Just keep your mouth shut, Andy! Trattoria Righini

It’s 3.22 a.m.

Not really a great advert for a restaurant, you would think. After all it is the restaurant that we went to at lunchtime that’s keeping me up. I’m still digesting the food!

However, it’s BECAUSE the food was so good that I’m still digesting it. I simply ate far too much. My stomach feels fit to bursting. Still.

Oh it was good.

The restaurant is the Trattoria Righini. It’s in a little place called Monteleone, right next to a small place called Inverno and Monteleone (Winter and Lion Mountain). Even the name of it makes you want to go there. There is nothing in the village except this restaurant (and some houses, of course).

The restaurant at night

Trattoria Righini at night

It’s nothing to look at from the outside – in fact, if you didn’t know about it, you would drive straight past it. It was a holiday here, yesterday, so like a Sunday.

Inside, there are about four different rooms. The biggest room is the first which also houses the ‘bar’. You don’t pick different times to eat – there is one sitting.

To start with, you can stand at this bar and they serve plates of Lardo and plates of the thinnest shavings of a special Parmesan cheese (it is very young) that you eat with your hands or, in the case of the Lardo, with breadsticks. And you have a choice of white or red wine. Of one brand which I guess is either theirs or a friend’s.

Then we went to our table which was moved (by our friends A & P) into this first room. They serve another plate of this Lardo with a pile of Parmesan shavings on top. There’s a plate of pickled red pepper (very sweet) and pickled onions as well. Then there was some salami delivered. Just two slices. Then some small meat balls (about 4 each), then some cottechino, then some sort of piece of omelet thing, then some other cold meat, then something else, then something else. All tiny portions. All served separately. All leaving you wanting more – which you could have if you asked ……. but if you go here, resist the temptation to have more. That would be a mistake and would lead you to be up at 3.22 in the morning following.

Then we had pasta. A couple of pieces of ravioli. Then a couple of pieces of different ravioli. Then some risotto.

Then there was polenta – with Gorgonzola or mushrooms, or figs done in wine or something else that I’ve forgotten now.

I had something of everything.

Then there was the main course. s. First there was some veal or some guinea fowl pieces. Or you could have both. And, if you’re really lucky, like me, your partner will give you some of his in addition.

The owner serving sweet, I think

This is how they dish out the food

So, that’s it, you thought. But no. Then they had a couple of slices of Roast Beef Inglese – which was the best I’ve ever tasted. By now I was refusing second helpings.

Then there was sweet – This was a sort of large cake, sliced into small portions with a kind of white custard, some ice-cream and chocolate sauce. Or you could have some fruit with the custard, ice-cream and chocolate sauce.

Or you could ask for and get both of the above.

Which is what I did.

Because I am stupid, I guess.

Then there was coffee.

During the meal we got through three bottles of the ‘house’ red wine and one of the house white we had drunk with the Lardo and Parmesan shavings (the last being for F – who drank the whole bottle to himself).

Then we had a glass of grappa.

The waitresses and the people who owned it were some of the most pleasant people. Smiles and kindness abounded. It was all very efficient, with only short waits between the ‘courses’. And, in the end it cost less than €40 per head. We went into the restaurant at about 12.20 and came out about 5. It was like being at an Italian wedding but with really glorious food.

It’s about an hour (or less) south of Milan, driving. Without a car you couldn’t get there. It’s closed most of the time (like all of January and August) – Monday and Tuesday all day, Wednesday evening, Thursday and Friday mornings and Sunday evening. Oh, yes, and they only take cash. No credit cards.

But it was wonderful. And I am now suffering because of my inability to say no in the face of good food or even just keeping my mouth shut from asking for a bit more, please?

Early morning and a failing diet

They are closed. I half expected them to be open. Not that it matters to me – I only walk past them on the opposite side of the road anyway.

I do keep meaning to go in and see if they have English papers but I have never done yet. This is an actual newspaper shop! You don’t see many of them in Milan. Usually newsagents are some temporary-looking, wooden affair on street corners or pavements. This is a real walk-in shop.

They are closed and it is cold. It seems like winter again. I have a T-shirt under my shirt and jumper and my winter, all-weather coat done securely up to the neck.

As I walk, I wish I had taken the woollen cap and worn it. I want to take out my gloves …. but don’t. It is April, after all.

It isn’t raining any more, which, I suppose, is some sort of blessing. Later, as I’m driving to work, the sky is blue – but so blue and beautiful. In summer, this would herald an unbelievably hot day.

But it’s definitely NOT summer yet.

I shouldn’t be up this early. I think I woke up because I was cold. Also because I got to bed quite early, maybe. So I woke at 4 something, was up by 4.30 and, now, at 5.10 (a good half an hour before I normally get up), I am out with Dino for our morning walk. When he knew we were going for a walk, he got just as excited as if it were normal time. He doesn’t care about what time it is – a walk is a walk is a walk, after all.

We don’t go to the dog areas. After yesterday’s and last night’s rain, they will be muddy pools, smelling rank, no doubt.

We turn up the street near them. Part of the street is dark, the street lights not working. It’s been like this for days at least. I wonder why they aren’t fixed.

Milan is incredibly quiet at this time in the morning. But not dead. A few vans doing deliveries; the odd person walking to work. If it were summer, it would be lovely.

By the time we get home, whilst it’s not really what you would call ‘light’, it is definitely ‘lighter’, which is good.

I do coffee, take the washing out of the machine, feed Dino and sit and have my coffee. I think to myself ‘Bet you’ll be late to work’.

I was. How did that happen?

I showered and tidied up a bit and then came to work.

I’m driving through the new Porta Nuova where the new buildings are, in fact, looking more interesting now. It’s here that I notice the blue sky. There’s a lot of traffic about for some reason. The sky makes a pattern of blue through the buildings. For Milan, they are very tall.

Later, as I am driving on the last few roads towards work, I see, in the distance, the Alps with the snow. Against the blue sky they look fabulous and I wonder if they’ve had fresh snow (whilst we had the rain). I’m also amazed what a difference it can make, this 40-minute drive. From tall, silver buildings with scraps of sky to the snow-capped mountains beneath the same blue.

I love living here (although I would like it to be a bit warmer).

On a slightly different note, I have, within a couple of days, failed with my ‘no alcohol until I go out’, not being able to resist a glass of red wine last night. :-(

And then, at lunchtime, G, the cook, asked if I wanted three of her meatballs. Well, I couldn’t really say ‘no’, could I? I mean, it would have been rude, wouldn’t it?

No, it’s not really going to plan at all.

Less, less, less – maybe that’ll work?

The special ‘wine diet’ that I invented (well, at least talked about) isn’t really going that well.

Or maybe it’s because I am eating more? Or maybe it’s because I am older?

Whatever the reason, I have put on a lot of weight.

So, now I have decided that something must be done.

Today I had half the normal amount of pasta. I had less chips. More importantly, I didn’t have a bread roll which I’ve got into the habit of having with my lunchtime meal since it was really cold here over winter.

Well, it’s a start.

Maybe I can give up alcohol unless we go out? Then, when we DO go out, stick to my wine diet?

Of course, exercise would help but I’m not that desperate …….yet.

Being single again would work – but let’s not even look down that corridor, shall we? I think I could even exercise before that!

As an aside (although really this is all part of the problem), G, the cook in our canteen at work, now does a ‘surprise’ for me on Friday. This is because I really don’t like the fish or the omelet. Last Friday she did me something that was divine and probably her best ‘surprise’ to date. It was two slices of toast with a slice of boiled ham and some béchamel sauce, topped with grated cheese and then toasted under the grill. Like a luxurious ‘cheese on toast’ which, in any event, I am very partial to. It was so tasty that I can even taste it as I am writing this! So tasty for something that is so simple.

And, of course, at the weekend I ate far too much but with all the walking we did I think it cancels itself out. Well, that’s what I’m convincing myself anyway.

So, let’s see how the ‘less of everything’ goes. I’m hoping very well.

And Creme Eggs! A picture post.

This follows on from my last post. I also really fancy a Cadbury’s Creme Egg and, since some of my readers didn’t know about Hot Cross Buns and, almost certainly, won’t have ever heard of a Creme Egg, here are pictures of both:

Cadbury's Creme Eggs - yum, yum

Cadbury's Creme Eggs - yum, yum

Hot-Cross-Buns

In addition, some readers wanted pictures of the all-important birthday party and so, here they are:

When I walked in through the front door, there were balloons on the ceiling –

balloons on ceiling

balloons on ceiling

balloons on ceiling2

balloons on ceiling2

……….and a banner –

happy birthday banner

happy birthday banner

………. and, of course there was the cake with the candle. Note the carefully placed bits of the ‘cake’ as decoration around the cake itself :-)

birthday cake

birthday cake

……….. and cake with the birthday boy quite eager (in spite of the candle flame) to get his mouth on it –

birthday cake and dino

birthday cake and dino

……… and the birthday boy looking out from under the table –

the birthday boy

the birthday boy

And, finally, although the balloons were up on the ceiling on Friday night, by Saturday morning they had started to drop and by Saturday night, most were on the floor and so a compromise was made with clusters of them all over the flat! –

more birthday balloons

more birthday balloons

And, there you have it. I hope you enjoyed the pictures of the birthday party.