Saturday, November 27
It was beyond cold in my little igloo last night and I was still in a New York state of mind. Fleece pajamas, heavy socks, a pashmina wrapped around my neck, thermal underwear and a down comforter were of no help when I had to get up and pee. I was shaking and the toilet seat was frozen. I was afraid to leave the little stufa on all night. What if there was an electrical fire or something? In retrospect that might have been preferable to the arctic air that enveloped me when I emerged from under the blanket.
Preparations for my morning shower included gathering many layers of clothing and bringing them into the bathroom so I could begin dressing while the hot shower was still running. The towels were still damp from yesterday; there’s no way anything is going to dry in this house.
I cannot run the two stufe together; the electrical capacity of the house is limited and running them both at the same time causes the electricity to go off. So it takes a while for the kitchen to warm up and the espresso to percolate. I’m off to Terni this morning in search of the Mercato Usato that Leslie took us to on my last trip. I have vague directions to look for the zona industriale and I figure I will recognize the place when I see it.
Turns out Terni has no less than four industrial zones. Plus it’s Saturday and many stores are only open in the morning, so Terni, a rather large city, is clogged with traffic. I ask someone if they know where the Punta Usato is, but the directions, in rapid Italian, are pretty useless. “Vicino la stazione”, says an auto worker, indicating that the place I’m looking for is near the train station. When I ask where the station is, he begins a rapid fire succession of sinistras, destras and direttos, with a couple of giros thrown in for good measure. I smile and nod and thank him profusely.
I stop in a mini shopping mall just out of curiosity. It occurs to me that there’s little if any middle of the road product in Italy; it’s either high-end or Wal Mart quality (is that an oxymoron?) For a country known for its Bella Figura and luxury fashion designers, most of the clothing and furniture you see is rather ghastly. Even so, the average Italian still cuts a sexy confident figure. You get the impression that they are all thinking about sex all the time. Which could explain why the Italians tolerate a leader like Berlusconi and why their economy is on the verge of collapsing.
I am not successful in finding the mercato and am eager to leave the Terni traffic jam, so I head towards the truffle festival in Valtopina, near Spello. Trawling the internet for my pre-trip research I discovered the beautifully designed on-line promotional brochure for this festival, promising tastings, a presentation of truffle hunting dogs, and even information about joining a truffle hunt, which really piqued my interest. The reality was about two dozen vendors who set up shop in a couple of tents outside of Valtopina centro. The stalls were beautifully arrayed and the products were varied – salse tartuffi, exotic cured meats like mortadella cinghale with truffles, artisanal biscuits, truffled cheeses with fruit compote. I entered a raffle although I’m not sure what the prize was but I was told it was something that would happen in June, so if I win it would be another reason to return to Italy.
I met Stef and Bob (Stefania and Roberto) who were thrilled to find out I was from New York and asked me if I thought they could sell their parmagiano cheese – very special since it’s from a mountain area close by – in Manhattan. I promised to email them some suggested places they could approach and they thanked me by gifting me a burlap sack stamped with PARMAGIANO REGGIANO that I had been admiring.
The truffle hunting dogs were all in a cage at the entrance, along with some brochures about the area and various pet food products, some of which I am sure contained truffles. When I asked about the truffle hunt – even pointing to the description in the brochure – no one seemed to have any information. Valtopina turned out to be a tiny town, with a textile museum that, like everything else, on Saturday after 12 noon, was closed.
This part of Umbria – the Vall d’Umbra – is very different from the Todi side. Mountains are visible everywhere, many with snow-tipped peaks. One had a broad, round top and approaching it felt like I was about to land on the moon. I am scheduled to have dinner at Judy and Fausto's tonight so I stop at a COOP supermarket and pick up a bottle of Lungarotti Rubesco, a local table wine of very good quality that is one of my favorites. The amount of wine that I consume daily when I am here would send me right into a twelve step program back home. I promise myself I will spend time at the gym tomorrow, but for now I am looking forward to Thanksgiving leftovers Italian style!