Auronzo.

A farewell.

I arrive back to meet up with the girls. Xmas markets are set up in the piazza and an ice rink. There's been a week of minus temperatures and now the chance of snow and when we awake, it begins to fall and continues until it’s thick underfoot as we venture out into it’s magic. 

The wooden nativity scene with figures and and animals dressed in crochet are covered with snow, the fences are outlined in white, it doesn't stop and it’s like living in a snowglobe. We’re enthralled.

We make bombardinos at home and hand whip the cream with a fork because I still haven’t bought a hand mixer. We cook heavy carb meals and I discover a recipe for potatoes that is divine! Cutting them in halves, scoring them and laying them on a bed of melted butter, herbs and parmesan and baking them until they are squishy.  But the potatoes here in November/December are soft and almost sweet, delicious. 

I have the cousins up from the downstairs flat and cook up a storm.  Thin slices of turkey, layered with prosciutto and provolone cheese, rolled up and bathed in milk and dusted with breadcrumbs and baked, the parmesan potatoes, special green spiky cauliflower called Romanesco broccoli and a tiramisu marbled with pistachio paste and laced with pistachio liquor. The Xmas season is upon us. 

We experience a full moon that seems to turn the snow a slight green colour.  The washing machine breaks down and I navigate the language to buy a new one at the one and only electrical shop in town.  It seems to work.

Icicles form, we scrunch through snow on afternoon walks and rush out to watch the sun set at four, turning the snowy mountain apricot and all shades of salmon and then gold.

The lake is turquoise against the pearl of the snow and ice begins to edge into the lake in round drifts. We watch every morning as the snow plough cleans our street and we search for deer tracks in the snow when we walk down to the shops.

On one walk, a leafless tree with the last of the apples is taken over by ravens, an eerie sight.

One night we go down for dinner at the one local restaurant that is still open and we walk back home through the fields and lie down in the snow and create snow angels and throw snow balls. Life in a cold climate has it's advantages.

We eat gooseberries from their papery gift wrap and buy beautiful hand painted woodwork and handmade velvet pumpkins at the market and have orange cinnamon flavoured hot chocolate at our favourite bar, Sweet Art and pizza at Antiqva with our favourite waitress, Jessica who always remembers my order, the same every time. Spinach and ricotta with hot salami.

And then it’s time to leave, we’ve been trying to get a flight back for 3 weeks now and finally one has occurred and we’re heading home two days before Xmas.When we awake, we are given a magnificent farewell with a stunning sunrise. Our lovely friend and owner of the best shop-of -all-things, Silvano, takes us down to the bus stop and we’re on our way down to Venice. Just before we’re about to get off the bus, the Italian man across from me, positions his cigarette ready to light upon touching the ground. 

We’ve been so lucky in that it snowed so much before we left so we could experience the beauty of this place as winter begins its slow descent.

Venice.

Prelude to Xmas.

I spend a night in Venice on my way home, experiencing it's prelude to Xmas for the first time. It's so festive, the street necklaces of lights are being strung with chandeliers, the light is soft, shops full of beautiful Xmas panettone.

I have a hotel near the station which is reasonably priced and cool.

And the shops are so beautifully decorated!

I walk across the canal to the San Polo district and have the best lunch at Mauro & Mimmo, a wonderful hearty seafood garlicky stew.

And come across washing, who'd have thought that washing strung on a line could be so artistic!

Then later, after hours of walking and discovering a beautiful ceramic shop, I end the day in Rio della Misericordia at my favourite restaurant having polenta with tiny prawns, baccala and sarde in saor with a side dish of cabbage.

There's a full moon bathing the canal as I walk back to my hotel near the train station. Nothing is more beautiful than Venice at night or in the day, in the sun, in the rain, in the mist...can you tell this is my favourite place?

Budapest.

CITY OF MEMORIES.

It’s another five hours travel and towards the end a young Hungarian sits next to me and chats which makes the time go faster. He tells me his father was a soccer star and so the government made him leave school at fourteen to practice and so when his soccer career ended, he had no education and has been selling eggs but with the Ukraine war (eggs came from the Ukraine and were cheap), he is having trouble getting the product and making a profit. He made sure his two sons went to Uni and the government pays most of the tuition. His mother is an English teacher and his English is perfect. He tells me he’s off to see an ex of his that he still loves but they had a long distance relationship but decided to call it quits. He tells me his grandmother lives in Budapest and loves the busyness of the town but that although he loves and visits his grandma, he’s a country boy at heart. The long trip went quickly with a talkative companion.

And then we’re pulling into Budapest. The station outside is peeling and disintegrating. On the way into the centre in the taxi, I begin to wonder why I came here. My daughter didn’t like it but it looks so romantic in photos. My hotel is in the old town which is better. Beautiful old 19th century buildings are grand. Eighty percent of their buildings were destroyed or damaged during the war and the communists destroyed many more after the war to rebuild new ones.

It was one of the worst bombed sites because it had oil refineries and storage tanks that were vital to the German war machine that for a time Hungary supported. The Americans bombed it brutally and it is still being rebuilt.

I head straight to the Xmas markets and they are truly beautiful. Lots of gorgeous ceramics and wreaths of dried fruits, pyramids of pastel coloured truffles, slabs of salmon cooking over coals

That night I walk through the park and find a traditional restaurant and manage to find a table for one and have buckwheat crepes, the waitress is friendly and the food good.

During these few days I come down with a toothache to end all toothaches. I feel it is in a tooth up the top and that possibly the nerve is on its last legs. It’s agonising, I try panadol, nurofen and a mixture of both. It’s perfect during the day but as soon as I lie down, It’s agony. I go through Budapest, tired which doesn’t help me see it in the best light but it is slightly decaying and has a sadness about it that I can’t shake.

I start out with a coffee flavoured with beetroot which is tastier than it sounds and then walk the day away. It's a city of lovely old buildings in between modern monstrosities, gardens of fluffy kale adorn the sidewalks as I walk to the famous New York Cafe only to find the line was snaking along the street and around the corner but they let me go into the lobby and take some photos and very kindly ordered me a taxi to another cafe, Gerbeaud, from 1858 where I had an interesting macaroon. Budapest is known for its cafe society and the old ones don't disappoint.

Back to another market and honestly, the crafts and food here and the way everything is set up vintage style is so lovely.

I spend the day wandering the city past the park with memorabilia from the holocaust, the past lingers here, never to be forgotten.

Then I head towards the Strudel House. I had a great view of the guys making the thin strudel sheets, draped and flung in the air to achieve maximum thinness and I had duck with cabbage salad and of course, the famous ricotta strudel with caramel sauce and vanilla icecream.

Next day, I went to the famous bridge which was near the food markets which I loved. Beautiful packets and tins of paprika, artistically arranged pickles in glass jars, piles of different colours peppers and richly coloured tomatoes. Then on to the Paris Court that has been refurbished and is one of the most elaborately designed buildings in Europe. Stunning.

Next to the Astoria cafe for - you guessed it, coffee and cake, then more wandering through the city, finding art nouveau buildings.

The city at night is beautiful and I have dinner at a recommended restaurant but the waiter is so rude and unhelpful and then when my meal comes with some sort of noodle and chicken, the noodles are cold so I ask the same waiter if this is how they are served and he says yes! I ask another guy who is directing people to the tables and he is horrified and whisks it away. I'm brought a plate of warm noodles. Underneath the restaurant there is a museum which is interesting. Would recommend, hopefully the waiter is employed elsewhere.

The next day I go to the shoes on the Danube. I have left it to last as I know it will be thought provoking and fit is. I stand and think of them standing there, waiting for death, having to remove their shoes. Humanity has been and still is, incredibly cruel.

I walk back into the city for one last old cafe, Muvesz since 1898. I order a chai without thinking and it comes in three separate layers with little taste but the pistachio and raspberry layer cake is excellent.

I find another lovely old cafe, Kassza for more cake as this is an important activity whilst in Budapest and have another day wandering and managing the tooth pain. The art nouveau beauties, the street art keep me occupied and I go one last time to the first restaurant I went to, Kisharang Etkezde where they give me the local liquor, a fruit brandy which definitely helps with the pain and they give me an extra one on the house.