Spoleto Surprise

When the train rolled into Spoleto at 8pm, I was already cranky and tired from the half day of travelling on the bus and train from Saturnia. It didn't help that it had gotten dark and I had just missed the bus to the town centre. Porca putana! When I called all the 3-star hotels listed in my guidebook, they said all their camere were 'tutto pieno e completo' because of the popular summer festivals. With not much choice, I hopped into a cab (at a cut-throat 10 euros for a short 5mins ride) and tried my luck at the 4-star hotel 'I Duchi' which was also freakin' full even though I was prepared to pay. The kind lady receptionist referred me to the nearby convent saying it was cheap at only 25euros a night.

I was figuring out the directions to the convent when the wind picked up and snatched the map out of my hands. I cursed at the sky which threatened to pour and almost fell over with the heavy backpack weighing me down while chasing the map dancing in the breeze. After asking the directions from an Argentinian and getting lost for 15mins, I finally found the heavy bolted door of the convent tucked away at the end of a small dark lane. It turned out to be a really charming and tranquil location, far exceeding my tentative doubts of a dark, austere and cold place. When I finally settled down in my attic cosy double-bed room, it was already 10pm and I was so tired that I ignored my tummy's rumbling and dreamt of the tartufi that I'd be tasting the next day.

In the morning on my way to the tourist office, a guy requested to take a photo of me from the opposite street and I obliged, still sleepy but starting to feel like a celebrity. The tourist office offered a lot of helpful info and brochures including various tourist trails around Spoleto. The first and easiest trail led me through the major sights from the ancient Piazza del Mercato, past the short Via Dei Duchi with its smart shops (there was a trendy looking one devoted to olive oil alone!), then turned right via Aurelio Saffi housing more ancient palazzo and finally the grand cathedral was in full sight.

Miraculously untouched by the Umbria earthquakes in 1997, the Duomo's masterpiece was the stunning frescos by Friar Filippo Lippo and there was a lovely smaller chapel adorned with equally vivid frescos. Outside, the piazza was filled with chairs for the public festival shows and there was a nice buzz in the air as the festa officials went about preparing for tonight's programs.

I made a detour from the trail to make dinner reservations at the highly recommended Il Panciolle, and continued to the ancient Rocca Albornoziana and crossed the amazingly well-conserved imposing Roman Ponte Della Torri amidst the lush hills, olive groves and deep valleys below. Bursting with energy from a restful night, I hiked up a 15mins hilly footpath in the cool tranquil Monteluco woods and was rewarded with a breathtaking panaromic view of Spoleto, the Rocca and Ponte. They probably still looked like how they did centuries ago.

Lunch break was a fresh creamy ricotta cheese and cinghiale ham panino dressed with the ultra-smooth and luxuriant extra virgin olive oil of Umbria, washed down with a pack of vino rosso at a breezy spot on the bench facing the Ponte. I had earlier been drawn by a handwritten sign 'Tutto Tartufo' in the window of this quaint salumeria at the Piazza del Mercato where I intended to just buy a simple packed lunch but ended up with more than expected.

Which true gourmand could resist all the local produce including the bottles of tartufo nero salsa (oooh), slabs of black truffle cheese (hmm, so good), proscuitto and salame (yum)? I was swimming in paradise until the jolly oily elderly shopkeeper interrupted with his enthusiastic recommendations. He could probably pass as my grandpa but his actions were contrary, as he kept pinching my cheeks and leaned far too close to praise his gourmet treasures and culinary tips. I wanted to tell him I was hungry and not deaf, but I didn't know how to do it in italian!

Nonetheless he was kind enough to let me smell a bunch of fresh tartufo nero kept in a brown paper bag - heaven! - trying to convince me to buy the whole tartufo in olive oil (20 euros). He also handed me a pinch of the creamy ricotta cheese with some biscotti and urged me to pop them in my mouth. The mild salty flavour and crunchy sweet texture were perfetto. I'd have married him there and then but I smiled gratefully instead and he couldn't resist caressing my chin again like a dirty old uncle. Yucky poo!

In the evening after jostling with the locals along the busy downtown Corso Garibaldi, I climbed up the slopes to Il Panciolle and was disappointed when it started to pour which meant I had to be seated inside at the warm dining room, instead of the open terrace. Ravished, I splurged on the local homemade Strangozzi pasta with tartufo nero (it's like meepok but with an insane amount of perfumed black truffles at only 14euros!).

The professional English-speaking waiter's recommendation of contorno was spot on - the freshest porcini mushrooms dressed simply with olive oil, parsley and salt and grilled over an open fire. The funghi cap was divine melt-in-the-mouth texture, almost like eating foie gras, and the stem was like a crunchy thick white asparagus. I washed it all down with a small carafe of vino bianco and gleefully made tasting notes and took pictures discreetly so that they won't think I was bonkers!

My stomach was bursting by this time but before I could cancel dolce after my pee break, the dense specialty local cake Crescionda (like a vanilla pudding) was staring at me, accompanied by a scoop of melted orange sorbet. I couldn't finish it of course and my bill came up to 37 euros - a bit steep for one person but worth every euro! The kind of quality was something money couldn't buy back home.

While dragging on my sigaretta at the terrace waiting for the drizzle to relent, I had a hilarious chat with Alessandro and his best friend Alberto, both tipsy and extremely friendly. Alessandro had visited Singapore a few years ago and was trying to explain to me in italian that he was afraid to litter because of the heafty $500 fine! They seemed harmless so I agreed to hang out with them for a glass of vino for only a while. I wagged my finger at them saying 'perche domani l'autobus è molto presto' (because tomorrow I have to catch the early bus) to which Alberto joked I didn't have to worry as he was a bus driver!

We grabbed a bottle of vino from the undergound tavern and 30mins soon escalated into a 3-hour intoxicated conversation at the open hatchback of Sandro's car. I was supposed to leave for Alberobello tomorrow morning at 7am but they were literally begging me not to leave and promised to show me the real Spoleto. So I grabbed their innocent bypassing amico Gerry to toss a coin so we all won't cheat. As fate would have it, they won calling heads up so I'd stay on for another day, much to their delight! Anyway I was too hammered to depart on the first bus and only crept back into the dead quiet convent at past 3am (praying that the nuns were not staying up or worse bolted the doors!). I felt my way up the stairways in the dark and tucked in at almost 4am. Yawn...