Turin

Today’s day trip was to Turin, about two and a half hours from Milan, or just under an hour if you splash your cash like I did and get a ticket for one of the bullet train services.

I never had much interest in Turin, which has a reputation for being a modern city based on industry. However, I’d forgotten that in Italy “modern” means anything younger than Michaelangelo, and as for the industrial side of things, they probably meant the exciting new industry of mechanical printing. Turin turns out to be an orderly city, based on a rare grid pattern that makes it easy to navigate, with long straight streets lined with elegant 18^th century buildings and marble-paved colonnades, both mainly limited to pedestrian access.

 

Turin is also clearly a city of culture. Florence loves its art, Milan loves its fashion, but Turin evidently loves knowledge. The place is jam-packed with esoteric museums, and there are bookstores and book kiosks around every corner. A toy shop owner I got chatting to (I was in a toy shop because of reasons) told me I had to visit the Museo Egizio, which apparently has the second largest collection of Egyptian antiquities in the world. I managed to find it (thanks to the aforementioned grid pattern), but at about 3pm there was a burly, somewhat pissed off security guard at the door and a sign apologising that the museum was full, there was a waiting list to get in, and they weren’t selling any more tickets for today. It turns out that a museum I didn’t even know existed is incredibly popular.

Fortunately, Turin is an interesting city to just amble about in, as well as being surprisingly large. I wandered down a grand pedestrian mall that opened into a huge piazza. Ah, I thought, the Piazza Centrale, equivalent of the Piazza del Duomo in Milan. Then I wandered a little further and came out into an even bigger, more ornate piazza lined with Hermes, Armani and Prada stores, and realised that no, this was the central piazza.

Then I meandered down to the riverfront, and found a piazza bigger than both of them, and gave up trying to figure out where Turin centres.

We get it; gobs and gobs of ancient wealth, innumerable dukes and princelings trying to outdo each other with spectacular constructions, bada bing bada boom, more capacious city piazzas than any urban area actually needs. Some of them were being used for markets selling spring flowers or vintage junk, but more of them were just vast expanses of polished marble blinding every passer-by with the bright spring sunshine.

 

At least with so many piazzas, none of them were crowded, even though the city was thronging with Easter Saturday crowds. So I had space to do a white girl Instagram twirl in the one lined with fashion brands, although, as I lack a long-suffering boyfriend, I had to film it myself. Story of my life.

After a couple of hours of ambling, I had a hankering for a basic, classic Italian lunch, so I chose a tiny little bistro down a minor alley more or less at random, and discovered that the owners didn’t speak English. Perfecto. I had penne with caci and pepe (soft cheese and pepper) for primi, then for secondi, filletto de pollo (chicken pounded thin and then grilled) with rosemary, a pile of sauteed zucchini, and a lemon wedge. And, naturalmente, a glass of prosecco. Nice and simple.

 

I was stuffed by lunch... but there's always room for gelato. Explorer Sam is getting persistent in his desire to pilfer some of it.

 

 

After a big lunch I didn’t want much for dinner, so when I got back to Milan I decided to check out a well-regarded small bar and make do with aperitivo snacks. Sadly I was faced with my most basic aperitivo yet – just green olives, corn chips and a beetroot dip. To be fair, it was also the cheapest; 10 euros for more negroni-based house cocktail, and a further 10 euros for a large and well-made martini later on. But still. I have developed expectations, Milan.