I’m writing this on my laptop in the kitchen of the Italian family right now. I’ll try to keep an updated diary to post when I get home, as I tend to forget lots of things if I write everything when I return to the UK. So!

21st.

Me and Tom took a taxi from our house to the airport. The night before had presented some lovely snow (as pictured in an earlier entry), but this left Bristol with some severe traffic disruptions with weather warnings coming in thick and fast. To avoid the general travel chaos, me and Tom decided to take the taxi rather than the bus (which would’ve been cheaper). So we arrived at Bristol airport intact.
After some issues with Ryanair being anal about the luggage space, we managed to check in and get on the plane (which had been slightly delayed). We were happily unaware of what was to come.
The weather was still quite terrible. It was snowing. It was cold. It was icy. Other flights were being cancelled. Apparently Easy Jet’s entire selection of flights were just called off. We were up in the air at this point.

Our plane experienced some turbulence, but nothing too dramatic. Then the captain spoke. The airport outside Milan called Bergamot had been closed because of severe weather, so we were going to the closest available open airport: Turin (Torino). The passengers fell silent for a moment before the confused and frustrated chatting started between them. Then more information came. Ryanair would provide us with a bus from Turin to Bergamot, but it would take two hours to arrive and then perhaps 3 hours to get to Bergamot. At this point there was an audible gasp going through the plane. It was already 8pm and pitch black outside, save for the snow of course.

All the passengers applauded the pilot as we landed on a precariously icy looking runway and noted the presence of the entire crew of emergency vehicles waiting on the sidelines. I had never seen that before. I think we exchanged a nervous joke about emergency landings or something similar. It was a bit tense, but then the confusion took over. Me and Tom now found ourselves at a completely different airport than we had expected. It was late and pretty much all public transport seemed to have shut down or was in the process of shutting down.

After a brief chat with Tom’s sister Harriet (whom we were going to spend Christmas with) over the phone, we went in to autopilot with me doing most of the leading, being the person who knew most of the language.

It was just chaos. Lots of angry passengers mixed with confusion over transport and the weather warnings. People looked lost and most were either staring blankly at train times or chatting loudly on their phones (probably with their relatives waiting at the other airport). The arriving and departing buses were chocka-block with people, so me and Tom decided just to go for a taxi into Turin central train station. Luckily, whilst waiting for said taxi, we started chatting with another British woman who was queuing behind us and found out she was going the same way, so we decided to share the ride (Taxi’s are expensive in Italy).

Because of the state of the motorway, all the cars were driving veeeery slowly, including our taxi driver who was leaning forward so much his nose almost touched the windscreen. Getting into Turin took us about 45 minutes, so we had a lot of time to chat to the nice British lady called Christina. Topics ranged from education to politics. It’s always very interesting to hear other people’s opinions.

Arriving in Turin, the time was about 9:40pm, the sky was pitch black, the streets covered in ice and the train-station was absolutely packed with commuters. We said good-bye to Christina and tried to figure out a last minute plan to get to Tom’s sister Harriet’s place that same evening. All our previous plans had been completely blown out the window and we found ourselves in a strange city where we basically had to trust the taxi driver to give us instructions on how to get to the train station. After that, we only had Harriet on the phone, trying to help us find the correct train to Genova.

At this point, I must explain the difference between an English or Swedish train station and an Italian one.

Italian public transport is infamous for its complexity. Buying tickets is a nightmare, and if you get on a train without stamping your ticket in a yellow box somewhere on the platform, you get a fine. Then you need to actually find the right train…! If you’ve bought a regionale ticket and boarded an intercity train, you get a fine, and vice versa. Knowing which ticket and train is which, is very very hard.
Anyway…. Enough rambling about the train service. I think you get the point. It’s difficult. :P

So! We were at the train station, very lost. It was late, so all the information desks were closed. It was also travel chaos with the snow, leaving many trains in a standstill or with severe delays. At this point, I was in charge and went through the crowd in search of something resembling a ticket machine. We found one, but it was all in Italian, so we had to call Harriet to have her translate over the phone. There were about 5 different options for trains going to Genova, and I clicked one while chatting to Harriet and Tom started feeding the machine our last Euros. The moment he had put the money in, Harriet shouted: No good! No good! Over the phone, which I instantly repeated and watched Tom trying to scratch back the money, but it was swallowed by the machine and our ‘no good’ tickets were printed.

We now had the wrong tickets for where we were going, and we had no idea which train to board, but within 3 minutes we found one saying ‘Genova’ which was departing in less than a minute, so we ran to it and jumped on board, not knowing if it was the right one. Harriet was urging us on over the phone: ‘Just get on the damn train!’

This would later turn out to be the very last train that would go to Genova before the snow took over completely.

We sat down in a random carriage with our invalid tickets and looked around nervously. Harriet told me on the phone that I would have to find out from either the conductor or the passengers which train we had ended up on.

My Italian is very very poor and the Italians themselves know barely any English. This wasn’t really a good situation to be in and I was feeling incredibly nervous, but had to do it myself since Tom’s Italian is nonexistent, so he wouldn’t be able to understand the replies, even if he asked the question correctly.
I shakily asked a few passengers about the train and found out to my relief that they were very friendly and that we had managed to get on the right train! We had to get off at an obscure station before Genova called Ronco Scrivia, so it was important that we got onto the train that would pass that particular station.

Anyway. After that stressful episode of running and trying to understand things, we settled down on the train and expected a journey that would last about 1 hour and 40 minutes, but the train was being delayed and even stopped at a random station for over half an hour at one point, leaving me and Tom very shaky since we had no idea where we were and what was going on. Our carriage emptied of people at this stage while two odd looking punk men entered and decided to sit close to us (when all the other seats were free…). I thought they behaved really strangely, like they were either drunk or… errr.. High on something. They were loud and twitchy. So me and Tom were once again on edge.

The train moved slowly towards our station. Problem was, Italian trains tend not to call out stations, and they only stay on the smaller stations for about a minute, so you have to keep an eye out to avoid missing your stop. Me and Tom jumped off at the wrong station and one point and had to scramble towards the train door with our luggage before it closed on us. Gah :D

FINALLY, past midnight, we arrived at the right station and jumped off into deep snow. Nobody had cleared off the platform. It was still snowing a lot.

Harriet and Adriano (Harriet’s Italian husband) were waiting for us in their little car. After lots of hugs and kisses we bundled up in their little white car and started heading up the mountain.
But the drama was not over! Oh no! While we were driving through the little empty and snowy village, we saw a rather large woman on the side of the road in clear distress. She was waving at the car to stop, so Adriano had his car glide sideways to a halt and open his window to chat with her. I could hardly understand her. She was obviously slurring and drunk. She wanted to be taken home, about 2 kilometres from where we were. The street was deserted and quiet except for her. So, we had Tom jump into the backseat of the car while the woman (later to be called ‘the fat mad bag lady’) got a seat in the front. We drove her home while she mumbled and sobbed.

We arrived at her house and made sure she got in through the door, then we sped off to Harriet and Adriano’s family’s house up in the mountains. We were all pretty exhausted, but Harriet had prepared food for us when we arrived (me and Tom had eaten barely anything all day). It was amazing. After food we collapsed in bed…

22nd

… To wake up the next day at around 10 am. Tom still had to do work since Christmas is the busiest time for his business, so after a delicious breakfast, me, Harriet and Nicoletta (Adriano’s sister) left him in the kitchen with my laptop while we took the two big dogs out for a long walk up the snow-covered mountain.

It took about two hours because of the deep snow, but we reached the top where a little church was standing and were able to sit down to eat some tangerines. The views from the mountain are spectacular. Nicoletta is also crazy, which I like :D

(Me in a huge borrowed michelin suit :P Nicoletta to the Right!)

(Me and Harriet and the dogs. Sitting by the side of the little church)

(The inside of the tiny catholic church/altar on the top of the mountain)

(The Church)

We came back to the house where poor Tom hadn’t been able to properly communicate with Maria and Carlo, Adrianos parents, but still managed to help Maria out in the kitchen somehow. We were knackered after treading in the deep snow, so when Maria served her home-made gnocchi and pesto, we gulped it down in delight!

(Coffee after every meal)

The TV was on in the corner of the kitchen where the local Italian news showed the travel chaos in the area due to the snowy weather. All the roads were covered in ice, making driving impossible. People couldn’t get to work. All the trains were cancelled. The motorway was closed. The airports as well. Me and Tom had arrived the day before on the last train, which had been extremely lucky. God knows what we would’ve done if we hadn’t managed to get on that train.

Later on, we made some lasagne from scratch in preparation for Christmas. Tom really wanted to eat it straight away, but had to hold back…!

(The first steps to making lasagne/pasta)

(making lasagne sheets)

Even though we had been snowed in all day and just about all the roads were closed, Adriano still had to go to work in the morning and then come back late. I don’t know how he managed to do that, looking at the news where they showed cars in ditches, having skidded off the road. Adriano is a baker and has to work the hardest around special occasions. Christmas is, unsurprisingly, the busiest time of all. He only sleeps for about 3 or 4 hours per night before he needs to get back to work. It’s crazy.
He came back in the evening at around 10 or so. Harriet had cooked some wild boar(!) with baked potatoes. Neither me nor Tom had ever tried boar before, so it was a new culinary experience. I also managed to find a wine I actually like. I don’t do wine normally. Ever. For pudding, we had Adriano’s local hazelnuts chocolate.

That evening, we went to bed with full and happy tummies, but the power suddenly went off. Me and Tom were in bed in the pitch black house, listening to what was happening outside. It sounded like snow was sliding off the roof above us and hitting the ground below, so I just shrugged and fell asleep. We would find out what the sound was the next morning…

23rd

… We got up at 7am as we had a busy day in front of us. We had to get in to Genova, meet a friend of Harriets, buy lots of stuff, make lots of food at home etc etc. The list went on.
After a quick (but delicious) breakfast, we headed out to the car…

…only to find it almost covered by snapped off tree branches, weighed down by ice and snow. By some absolute miracle, the thick branches had not landed directly onto the roof of the car (which is a soft top roof), but instead spread out around it, leaving the roof intact.

We started by removing all the branches and shoveling the snow away from the car, thinking that we would be able to leave after that… But we hadn’t anticipated the ice covered road, and seeing as the driveway was sloping upwards, the car was just skidding on the spot, unable to get a grip on the road. We spent an hour and a bit just going back and forth, shoveling snow off the road, trying to put a carpet under the wheels to make it go forwards, spreading grit out… etc.

All whilst the nearby neighbours were watching us.

Just as we were about to give up, the car managed to get up to the top of the drive and we (now more than an hour late) drove off to Genova.

In Genova, we visited the food market (Gaahahgaaghhh drool) and a few other shops before heading over to Harriets friend to have coffee and cake. The friend, nicknamed ‘Trumpet’ is learning English, so she got to practice it with us. She was great fun!

At around 2pm, we drove back to the home up in the mountain village and prepared pizza dough for that same evening.

I had a little nap downstairs, wrapped up in a blanket by the open fire. Can it get much better than that?

Well. Yes, actually! This Italian family happens to have an icecream machine… And they make the absolute best homemade icecream IN THE WORLD. When Harriet had finished the icecream (which we were going to have that evening after the pizza) I was given the job of cleaning out the icecream machine… With a spoon… I’ll let you picture that.

That same evening, we went out to their little ‘Pizza Hut’ (Internal Joke) that is located outside the main house. We had some home made pizza with a friend of theirs called Roberto (nicknamed Robbi).

I ate so much that I actually felt slightly ill afterwards. I got stomach cramps and couldn’t stand up straight.
Not to worry though. Apparently Maria had a special super drink of doom™ , that was mixed to aid digestion. At that time I didn’t really care about the fact that this mysterious drink was green. Anything to make the cramps go away…! Harriet gave me a tiny bit in a glass and told me to go slow. It was mixed with pure alcohol bought from the chemist. After sipping on this almost pure alcoholic drink (holy shit), my cramps disappeared within 5 minutes. No joke.

I guess Italians are used to eating too much. So much so, they mix their own remedies for it.

24th

Got up at around 10am the next morning and prepared for pretty much an entire day spent preparing food for the Christmas dinner the day after.

We got to learn how to make capeletti which the family normally does as an activity to bring everyone together. It is a job which takes several hours. Seeing as the 24th is the day Christmas is celebrated in Sweden, I called home over Skype to wish my family happy holidays, and they got to see what we were up to over in Italy!

(Tom with ‘Santa Maria’ as she is called by her children)

Only bad consequence of this now is that my family back home think I can actually make this Italian food, so expect me to cook when I come to Sweden :P Errr. Well. I can’t really say I know how to make everything from scratch like they do here in Italy!

… And I definitely can’t make this!

You’ll have to ask these two if you want octopus salami (No joke :D)

(Harriet and Adriano)

This entry was posted on Saturday, January 2nd, 2010 at and is filed under Jen's rambles. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.