Cuneo: A Dream Come True

Our day in Cuneo was amazing. My mother’s notes were fantastic and we got to almost all of them. Our hotel was around the corner from the church where my Nonna and Nonno got married. We kind of found it from the back at first, then walked around to the main entrance. When we did, I could remember Nonna talking about her sister's big fancy wedding in that church and how she decided she would, instead, keep hers "simple, simple, simple."

We went to the Piazza and took pictures. The first café we saw was closed, so we walked down Via Roma looking for lunch. We found a sweets shop and bought Cuneesi al Rhum. We had lunch at a restaurant in a hotel on Via Roma, and the food was amazing. They gave me a commemorative plate because I ordered the tagliatelle. I'm still not sure why. 

Then, we walked to the town cemetery. We found Nonna's parents and two other Costamagnas - Maria Giordano and Lucia Martini. There were red tags hanging on many of the mausoleum squares, including Nonna's parents'. It looked like a notice from the City of Cuneo. As I understand it, you do not own your plot in the town cemetery. After forty or fifty years, the cemetery turns over the plots for new burials.

On our way to the cemetery, we noticed some hops growing by the side of the road. Tori picked one of the flowers and pocketed it, which I only realized when she saw that Bernardo Costamagna's vase was empty and she dropped the hops flower inside "so he would have something, too."

We rested for a bit in the hotel, then Theo and Zoe went for bike rides. They ended up at a café that I think is on the ground floor of the building where Nonna lived. They had more Cuneesi al Rhum there. 

Our hotel made reservations for us at Osteria Senza Fretta. It was amazing. The staff at the hotel in Milan said we would eat well in Cuneo, the heart of Piemonte, and he was not wrong. The chef came to talk to us as he poured Theo a glass of wine. I mentioned that my mom's family was from Cuneo, and he asked the name. When I said "Costamagna and Galli" he said, "Ah, Costamagna, of course!"

My Nonna is one of my favorite people ever, and I miss her every day. There was a moment while walking around Cuneo when I could even smell her. All of my life, I've heard the stories and seen the pictures of Cuneo and dreamed of one day seeing it for myself. Today was absolutely a dream come true.

Snapshots from Konstanz

It was just another regular day around here: easy-going wake-ups, breakfast, exercise, shopping, playground time, laundry and kitchen chores, and schooling. The weather is unmistakably autumn, too, with a chill that I am not quite equipped to handle. (I have to beat back my impulse to buy a big chunky sweater with the reminder that after we leave Europe in a couple of weeks, we’re not likely to experience temps lower than 70F until we reach southern Patagonia in March. I can buy a sweater then.)

In four days we move on to another city in another country. We will sleep in another set of beds, see and hear a different language that we don’t understand, and enjoy a whole new yet familiar cuisine. So today, I found myself savoring bits of the Konstanz experience that I’ve come to love and noticing new things, too, even on my 21st day here.

Döner

I acquired a taste for döner in Istanbul. It’s that marinated and pile of meat on a vertical rotisserie common in Turkey, Greece (where it’s called gyro), and beyond.) In Turkey, it’s served with fries and salad, or in pitas, or in tortilla wraps, or with a yummy sauce on top of bread or fries and called iskender. We at döner fairly often during our week in Istanbul, and when we would see a döner place in another European city we’d always smile. Imagine our surprise and delight at finding at least four döner places within easy walking distance of our apartment here! We’ve eaten döner in Konstanz at least as many times as we did in Istanbul. Good times.

Mosaic Tiles

Konstanz is beautiful and its historic areas are pretty ornate. It was a wealthy city in its heyday, so the buildings have a bit of swankiness to them. Mosaic tiles, which I associate with old-time fanciness, aren’t really a thing here like they are in Istanbul, Rome, Athens, and other places. Yet, I found one today. It was completely by accident, or serendipity, as I had walked past this particular building at least a handful of times before.

Smell-o-vision

For the second time in about five days, I fiercely wanted to capture the smell of the air around me in a bottle or a social media post or something that would let me share with my friends and family back home the awesomeness of what I was experiencing. Oh my goodness, y’all, you need to smell this! The first time occurred in the rose gardens on Mainau Island. The second time happened today while walking the kids over to the playground in our neighborhood. The leaves have begun to fall from the trees, and the way they dry up and crunch to bits under foot and bicycle, well, it was so aromatic. I thought I was in the woods for a second. It was a gorgeous, comforting smell.

Parking

We are fortunate that there is convenient and free parking near our apartment. We are also fortunate because we haven’t had to drive anywhere for weeks. Konstanz is a super walkable city, and for the longer distances the buses run frequently and seem to get to most of the city. Bicycling is also huge here, and the sidewalks are just lined with parked bikes. However, if you have to drive and park in Konstanz, these signs will help you out. They point to the nearby parking lots and the LED displays show the number of free spots available, in real time. It’s cool to get that info at the entrance of the garage, but it’s way more awesome to get it on the street a turn or two or three before the garage. I like this idea.

Our Greeters

We have a third floor walk-up apartment in a six-unit building. The landings between apartment levels are decorated by the residents in various styles and intensities. There are potted plants, travel photos, and even some gnomes. We see these guys on our way up each time, and they always look glad to welcome us home. Early in our stay, one of the kids said, “We should name them!” I offered, “How about Laurel and Hardy?” I got an “Um, okay.” These guys…

Noticing the Little Things

European toilets are different than American toilets.

First of all, you frequently have to pay to use “public” toilets in Europe. I mean, there are even turnstiles in gas station rest stops in Germany where you have to pay 0.70 Euro to use the pot. They try to make it up to you (I guess) by giving you a 0.50 Euro ticket to use in the convenience store or to apply to your gas charge, but come on. I don’t get it. This Pay-to-Pee routine has been going on since Istanbul.

There are squat toilets in some places, what we would recognize as American toilets in others (just with a different flush mechanism, usually a knob you pull from the top of the tank), and then there are German toilets.

German toilets don’t have a tank, or really a bowl, for that matter. The best way to understand it is with a picture. I don’t have one, sorry. Anyway, German toilets, their configuration, and what happens when we use them have all been major topics of conversation around here.

Bicycles. There are many. See this post.

Everyone speaks English? Not so much.

I’ve heard that Germans learn English in school earlier than Americans learn other languages, and I’ve heard that more German students study English than American students study a world language. So far, we’ve had great luck in communicating in English all through Europe and even in Berlin. After living in Konstanz for a couple of weeks, we’ve seen how our lack of German language knowledge is a hindrance. People here don’t speak English as well as they do in other parts. We are trying to pick up on some German, but I feel a little unmotivated given that we’re moving on soon. The language barrier is isolating. I remember how vulnerable I felt with one in Beijing three years ago. Thank goodness for apps and for no “German-only” legislation that I can detect.

Relatedly and judging by Google Translate and Wikipedia alone, German is hard to translate into English. The English translations make hardly any sense. Here’s one of the most comprehensible sentences I’ve read: “In good weather, you can admire the Alpine view, especially with hairdryer.”

Groceries

The grocery store is not a supermarket. I may not have seen a supermarket since England, and that may have been the only one I’ve seen since I left the States. We shop for food every couple of days, and when we don’t cook at home we eat out. So, we are buying food every single day. It feels weird, and somehow right. I don’t know. I’m a little out of sorts by it all.

Laundry

No dryers. When was the last time we had a dryer? There was one in Malmö, Sweden, but we didn’t use it because we weren’t there long enough to do laundry. Stockholm had one. It was a washer-dryer-combo machine. Was that the only dryer? I mean, we’ve been line-drying so much that I’m not sure. Let me work backwards. Copenhagen - no laundry. Amsterdam - no laundry. London - washed clothes in sink and line-dried on towel warmers. York - no laundry. Edinburgh - I think there was a washer but we didn’t use it. Not sure. Dublin - ah, yes, a washer/dryer combo. Donore - machine wash, line dry. Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.

I like line drying, but I don’t like hand-washing. I will be fondly reminiscing about machine washing when we leave Europe in a month, I'm sure.

Privilege

Privilege is no little thing, but it is one of the things that has come to mind as a difference from home. We are so privileged to be traveling the way we are, and I’ll admit to sometimes realizing that I’ve taken our ease for granted. Yet, any travel abroad is a privilege, and many people have it but don’t exercise it. Others use it but don’t recognize it. Still others act on their travel privilege with humility and recognition of its complexity. It’s been a few weeks, but I still remember what Lisbet said to me on the ferry from Denmark to Germany when the topic of the European refugee crisis arose. She expressed that it was hard to feel fully at ease with the travel she was taking (she and her husband were driving their RV to Italy for two weeks of touring) when so many people were risking their very lives because it seemed a surer path to survival than staying in their war-torn countries. Yes, I have the privilege of travel and the privilege of staying home in a safe and prosperous life. Our place in Konstanz is comfortable and easy, but different from home enough to challenge us a bit. That challenge brings the privileges of my life into focus.