A View of Turin....

 

 

 

July 15, 2008

Please note, this is not a long story short….

Our journey to Turin began with a smooth one hour and fifteen minute train ride from Alessandria. The landscape to Torino, the capital of Piedmont, consisted of mostly beautiful farm land full of planted corn and rice that extended for miles. The land appears very fertile and green and one farm slowly flows into the next with small towns dotting the way. One of Kim’s east coast friends, Barbara, has historical roots in one of the towns, Asti. So, as we rolled by we waved and sent her relatives our regards.

Turin is a large city made up of a population of around one million. Its’ roots extend back to 218 BC when as a village, the folks decided to side with Rome against Hannibal and, as one guide book puts it, “were decimated for their troubles”. Over the centuries, they were occupied by many—the Romans, Lombards, Franks, French, Spanish, and Germans….While the United States was fighting its Civil War, Turin became the first capital of a unified Italy. Although this unification movement was born in Turn, the city later lost out its star position to Florence. The guide books talk about the various piazzas and the history of leaders, fascists, student radicals, etc who met in the places that we too were about to stand.

The city was bombed extensively during WWII leaving it almost 40% destroyed. After the war, there was a huge wave of immigrants who were seeking jobs in factories, one being the famous Fiat Company. Consequently, the city is a rainbow of cultures and it’s the first place in a month that we heard English being spoken casually on the street. The train station was a cacophony of sounds as we quickly looked around, joined the masses and headed out the door to find our hotel. Kim booked a hotel on line that was just a five minute walk from the train station. Once settled into our room we headed out to explore.

The following are a few vignettes of our 36 hours in Turin:

Famous coffee house: Kim usually walks a couple of steps in front of me; she walks as though on a mission while I like to look into every window. One such window caught my eye because it had a little historical plaque placed next to it. I called Kim back and together we read about how this current coffee house was one of the favorites of Herman Melville and Mark Twain. It described how Mark Twain loved Turin, especially the architecture. It just “felt” moving to stand for a second where I knew that the likes of Twain and Melville had stood and saw the same thing we were seeing. I’m not sure why that’s important or worth noting but it just “felt” like we were part of something, like a connection between dimensions….

The Shroud of Turin! Not that I was excited or anything about being here, at the Cattedrale di San Giovanni & the Holy Shroud (it only got one star in the guide book). The Shroud is not on display but is kept in a gold, almost coffin, appearing container in a little chapel in one of the corners of the church. It’s not really marked but I knew I was nearby when I saw signs about being extra quiet, no photography and to allow people their prayer time. Above the container, they had a replica of the face of the Shroud and it made for pretty dramatic effect. I sat for awhile and pondered. What I thought about was that at this point in my life, I still don’t know just what I think about the existence of God; sometimes I really believe, sometimes I don’t. There are times when I play a game in my head that goes something like, “if I had to push a yes/no button right now, I would push…..”. I don’t just play this game when things are going badly, I tend to play it when I’m having a great time….walking on a beach, being with friends, doing acupuncture.

The thing that I really like about the Shroud is the unknown. How scientists have studied it for many years and still, they haven’t been able to figure out how the imprint , in almost photographic detail, was made. The scientists keep going back and forth about dates, calling it a very clever forgery from the 12th, no 13th, no, the 14th century. Then, some years ago they analyzed threads from the linen and found traces of pollen in the fiber making it roughly 1800 years old. Ohh, you know what that might mean…..So, it’s this mystery that we in all our advances over the years haven’t been able to solve that gives me delight and makes it a honor to stand and view the golden box.

A Simple Glass of Tea: Well, just like that infamous cab ride when we first arrived in Milan, we’d heard urban legends about the cost of drinks. A $10 beer in Copenhagen, a $5.00 Sprite in Milan….Mid day, we found ourselves tired and needing a rest. It had been a lot of walking through the Egyptian Museum and one of the Savoy Palaces and, of course, the Shroud Cathedral. So, we spied an outdoor café and read the sign that said, “No cover charge”. Well, that sounds good and so we sat. Looking over the menu I decided that I just wanted some iced tea and Kim agreed that would also be her choice. So, the waitress returned shortly, handed us each a glass with two ice cubes in it and 2 cans of Nestea along with the bill. Kim gasped and I looked; sure enough, for our two bad tasting glasses, we were charged 8 Euro, about $12. So, we sat awhile, decided to just enjoy and now we can add to the lore for future travelers.

A Walk in the Rain: After a very long day of walking, walking and more walking we decided that it was time to eat something a bit more substantial than a quick sandwich on the run/walk. “Damn, those Italians, I cried; why don’t restaurants open until 7:30PM at the earliest!”? This cry came forth after Kim and I discovered two cute looking places that we thought would be fun to try; but, we had 30 minutes for one and an hour for the other to open. So, we continued to walk around as we waited. This walk led to another piazza and another historical sign announcing that in 1453 (500 years before my birth!) this area was used to trade wheat and that some type of miracle had occurred here having to do with a theft and a magical host (as in communion). This was the most we were able to decipher but again, I felt awe and was honored to be part of it.

Finally, the restaurant opened and we were, of course, the first to enter. It was a sweet little place with good service and okay food; nothing to really go, WOW over. But, it gave us a good resting spot, had a nice ambiance and offered us a nice glass of their house wine as we reviewed our day and people watched.

Now comes the walk in the rain part. We didn’t take notice at all of the weather outside or that people were coming in with umbrellas. We paid our bill and walked outside to be met with a huge rain downpour; I mean huge. The type where you can follow a line of rain dropping and when it hits it explodes into all the puddles that have been created by this massive rain. We just stood under the restaurant awning and discussed our options: I said, let’s have them call us a cab; Kim said she didn’t want to take a cab. I said, okay, that means we walk (maybe a mile?) and we let it be okay that we get soaked. Oh, did I also mention that there were huge claps of thunder and lightning which I love and Kim is very afraid of? So, we started off on our walk, holding onto each other into the mostly abandoned flooding dark streets, trying to quickly figure out just how to get back to our hotel.

We tried to walk up against buildings, to shield ourselves from the downpour; every now and then we’d get covering under a long arcade. We decided that we’d try taking a bus and Kim’s quick eye found one that listed the train station as one of its’ destinations. As we entered, it was full of others who were escaping the rain; some soaked as we were, others completely dry (what was that long pointy thing they were carrying)? Once on the bus I looked at Kim and then the fogged up windows and asked, “How will we know when to get off”? She didn’t respond to this technical detail. After a minute, an older woman got onto the bus and she seemed easily approachable. In my best Italian, I said excuse me and asked her if she knew where the train station stop was? She replied right away, do you speak Spanish? I said yes, and we were off to the races! We had a quick but delightful conversation about the fact that she’d lived in Turin for 1 ½ years now and had moved from Peru to be close to her four children. When I said that must be nice for her, she shook her head and said something like she was here to take care of them. We colluded in the fact that Italian IS NOT easy for Spanish speaking people as she said she’s just starting to find it a bit easier. Finally, it was time for her to tell us to get off the bus and we jumped out into the rainy night with a “Buena suerte” and a happy feeling over having made a nice connection.

So, this long story does end with us finding our way back to the hotel. I was glad to have walked and had the experience; it was much better than a cab ride and we did eventually dry out.

Finale: Kim tells me that I didn’t talk about the Egyptian Museum, The Museum of Cinema, and other sites. Sorry. While they were fantastic, especially the Museum of Cinema, this is where my thoughts have led me as I write….She herself may have to write.