“This is life.": Part 1

Torino – 23 Février 2013

Today, the day of new beginnings, as is each day that we wake up breathing and alive. Woke up early, wiped the sleep from my eyes, and started in on preparing for the upcoming adventure. The mission: gather five people and their luggage for 8 days into a single place to load up and head out. Challenging, yes, but not impossible. We managed the feat, leaving just after our previously discussed departure time (8:30 AM). From Grenoble, we would head east, farther into the Alps. Weaving in and out of the French traffic, watching people careening across all lanes as they talk on a cell phone or apply their rouge. It’s a mad, mad world. Though we really didn’t know the half of it: Italy would prove to be much more challenging when it came to driving.

The drive was pleasant enough, consisting of at least five toll booths totaling just over €70,00… Yes, you read that right. The largest chunk was, as I called it, a convenience fee: €51,00/aller-retour to take the 13 km tunnel across the French/Italy boarder into Italy. This fee also covered the entrance back into France. Absolute madness. I have been told that these fees are to improve the roads, but I haven’t seen much improvement. Someone, somewhere must be making some money off of these fees. Absolute madness.

After the tunnel, and after a quick bite to eat after stretching our legs, it was back into the car to traverse a few more tunneled mountainsides and then on into Italy. At this point, things turn a bit foggy as I drifted in and out of sleep. I would wake up to catch snippets of the conversation, but it was mostly a dreamless sleep, catching up from the lack of sleep suffered the night before (ultimately, a self-destructive move with selfish motivations: Skype!).

Once I had woken up, I found that we were near the outskirts of Torino, or Torin as the French call it. We would head up the mountainside above the city in the car first, to take in the superb views from the Basilica di Superga. These superb views were obscured, however, by the light snowstorm that covered the hilltop. We drove up a winding, scarily narrow paved road: up, up, up. Dodging cars and people alike, taking sharp turns, racing through light infested intersections, and finally reaching the destination. There was a sharp intake of breath as we rounded the last corner: there was the Basilica in all its magnificence. Against the white sky, the yellow body of the building shone out bright, dramatically emphasizing the immense amount of detail carved into the exterior walls of the building.

Basilica di Superga

The group pulled on a few more layers, grabbed a scarf or a pair of gloves, then headed out to take as many pictures of this beautiful place as humanly possible. Needless to say, we succeeded. From the exterior, we tentatively pushed open the doors to enter a side wing of the building. Unfortunately, the actual Basilica would not reopen until many hours later in the afternoon. We would settle for a tour of the crypt of the royal House of Savoy.

The tour began in the Papal portrait room which contained a portrait of each of the popes. It was amazing to see walls lined with hand-painted portraits, starting centuries ago. The magnificence continued into the crypt below. Though the chill of the dead could be felt below, it did not feel like a place for the dead. Statues lined the walls, symbolizing courage and justice, immortality and time, strength and vigilance. Gold and marble lined the walls; the place dripped with decadence. As in life, the kings and queens of the past would forevermore rest in beds of marble and gold. The crypt was a quiet place. Any noise felt irreverent in such a place, like disturbing the sleep of a friend.

From the hilltop, we descended toward the heart of Torino. To say Lisa, our fearless driver, was a bit stressed would probably be an understatement. She was courageous, a true German. Weaving in and out of traffic, cursing with the best of them, and finally bringing us to our destination with a finale: parallel parking. I must commend her, for I’m not sure I would have been able to manage such a feat. We checked into our hostel, Open011, easily enough, finding a spacious room spread with five beds and a private bathroom for the room. Much nicer than we were expecting. We dropped off our luggage, made a few preparations, then we were off to the center of Torino on foot, ready to see as much of the city as possible.

We walked from our hostel toward the city center. After crossing streets at many “zebra paths,” as the Europeans in the group so cleverly call them, the true old city began to show itself. Narrow streets, cobbled in spiral patterns, led us to piazzas and palazzos: the façades streaming from regular apartment complexes with beautifully intricate balconies to fully carved, statue-covered, bas-relief church fronts.

The smells: overwhelming. Bakeries and cafés littered the streets, selling cheaper than normal baked goods alongside their superb coffees; the privilege to smell such things was worth every step we took. Spiced wines, fresh pizza, vendors with croissants and bugnes and a variety of custard-filled pockets and puffs of dough shined from window fronts. A herb/spice merchant displayed walls, full to the ceiling, with different spices and herbs.

Among the shops and crowded streets, we stumbled upon the Maria Ausialiatrice, the Basilica of Our Lady Help of Christians, a beautiful church with a statue-filled courtyard. Just another new sight on our way through the streets of Turin. A few streets later we happened upon il Santuario della Consolata, a great basilica near the city center, sporting a grand bell tower constructed from old Roman remains. We stood in the plaza at the foot of the tower and listened as the bells opened their throats to belt their hourly song to the passersby below.

Bell Tower of il Santuario della Consolata.

After wending our way through a multitude of streets, we came to the great outdoor/indoor market of Porta Palazzo. Before entering the market, a passing Italian urged us to put away the expensive cameras and pull our valuables a bit closer to us. A helpful hint, though we would come to no harm. The market was filled to the brim: luxury goods, faux-luxury goods, fruits and vegetables, meats and cheeses, breads and pizzas, dish soap and shampoo, shoes and scarves, leather and plastic. The square was an endless sea of tents, surrounded by four large structures that created the Porta Palazzo, one of the largest markets in Northern Italy. We wove our way through the tents, then into one of the structures. Soon, we were each biting down on our first slice of Italian pizza, though it was the first of many slices.

            Porta Palazzo soon faded as we trekked on through the city. A few streets later, our group peered up at giant Romanesque structures, crumbling into oblivion, which overlooked a grand lawn surrounded by a fence. The noises proved it to be a ready-made dog park, as the old structures gave way to a new purpose. These crumbling structures soon ceded their hold on the landscape, giving way to the mighty Palazzo Madama and the Piazzo Costello and Palazzo Reale, respectively.

Palazzo Reale, the Royal Palace of Turin.

Palazzo Madama. Photo courtesy of Michelle Susanto. 

            

            Each space opened its arms wider, spreading articulated buildings across an open square that gave way to the masses of people touring the city. From here, we could see the looming tower of the Mole Antonelliana, the great symbol of Turin. The great expanse of stone and concrete gave each the time to wander, some pursued by desperate men selling flowers and others capturing images to last a lifetime.

            Our feet soon brought us to the foot of the great Antonelliana, one of the largest brick structures ever constructed with the technology of its time. For a pretty penny, one could take a life to the very top for an excellent panorama view of the city. Our group, instead, decided it best to tour the souvenir shop.

The great Mole Antonelliana.
Photo courtesy of Michelle Susanto.

            The evening, though late by that time, was still young for our group. We still had to find dinner, which came in the form of a Kebab restaurant. In a blur of lights and beautiful buildings, we found a path that lead in the direction of the hostel. The wandering path revealed its own wonders. Coming upon a columned street, we peered down its length and perceived lights of red and blue blanketing a plaza ahead. The whole square had been fitted with an installation of lights [I later researched these lights and found them to be called Il Tappeto Volante, or the Magic Carpet, an art installation for a city celebration].

            It was a small wonder, but probably the preferred portion of the evening. We were all left in a sedated state of wonderment after resting under the lights. The hostel was still blocks away, but in that moment it seemed as if the universe had bestowed a small gift upon our group.

Il Tappeto Volante

            The final wonder of Turin came in the form of the Monumento al Traforo del Frejus, a large fountain at the far end of a park we crossed. The night wore on as we trudged onto our hostel. My feet were heavy from the day spent walking in boots around the city, but my heart was light. Every new corner turned brought an explosion of sensory information. By the end of the week, I would be filled with a definite sense of sensory overload.

Monumento al Traforo del Frejus

            Needless to say, each of us fell into bed that night, though not after a good amount of time spent trying to connect to the hostel wireless.

The lights of the city of Turin. Photo courtesy of Michelle Susanto.

*     *     *     *     *

And so ends part 1 of the “This is Life,” a 5 part blog series. And to think, we accomplished all of that in one day. I’m trying my best to stay motivated, but it is difficult recalling the small details of each day after a week or so. I’ll try my best to have the rest of them up as soon as I can. Passez une bonne aventure!