Arezzo e Cortona

That morning when the first light hit Dario's room, we got up and grabbed our bags to the kitchen and waited for him to wake up. His wife Trudi saw us and showed us her vegetable garden not knowing we'd not be staying long. When Dario came out and saw the bags, he asked 'Tutto bene?' And I replied that I was sick (la verità) and that F couldn't sleep all night. He said 'It's better you move to another room?' F quickly said 'No it's better we go' and he got the point. We apologised profusely and luckily he was understanding and knew he made a mistake by putting us up at his pighole. Perhaps he had been so alone all this time that he didn't realise the sorry state of his casa. I felt bad for him but F was right, it was best we leave subito! We'd not be able to put up with the toilet from hell!

After he dropped us off at the stazione, F and I hugged in joy and jumped onto a treno per Arezzo, the nearest civilised town which was molto bella. This was our first time here and I loved the quaint roman citta already. This was where il film famoso 'La Vita E' Bella' di Roberto Benigni was shot and where Petro della Francesco's beautiful frescoes could be found. At the tourist office, we got the chubby bespectacled gal to call a few B&Bs and she managed to find a gorgeous homestay 'La Chimera' in the centro that's owned by the extremely hospitable Lory and Alteo who welcomed us like our italian fairy godparents sent from heaven!

You could imagine at this point we were dying from the lack of sleep and F was struggling with her heavy backpack. It took us a while to locate 'La Chimera' but we finally found their inconspicuous door. The 2 rooms they showed us were so bellissime (and only at 60E una notte!) and the toilets were amaaazing! When I told the beaming ultra dolce Lory 'Siamo molto stanche. Abbiamo molto fame e abbiamo bisogno di fare colazione' (We're very tired, hungry and need breakfast), she immediately whipped up a buffet table full of goodies just for us! Yaaay!

F and I hugged in ecstasy again at our luck and ate like there's no tomorrow. We were eternally grateful with everything now after Dario's episode! Si, I was disappointed that we didn't get to harvest the grapes and do other farmwork as intended but plans changed and we must bend with the wind. After taking the longest showers in our impossibily clean toilet, we immediately felt 1,000 times better and to celebrate, we had a great late lunch at the trattoria 'Il Saraceno' (dal 1946) www.ilsaraceno.com on Via Mazzini that was listed in my guidebook. F had the pennette del Saraceno (8E - tuna, tomato, olives, onions & basil) while I slurped up the pappardelle con caccia (7E - minced pork, pinenuts & juniper berries).

Seeing the pile of fresh porcini, grapes, green figs and chestnuts on the buffet table, I couldn't resist ordering the contorno di porcini funghi trifolati con nipitella (7E) - a generous plate of perfumed soft velvety sponges, aromatic of fresh wood. F continued with the creamiest tiramisu and macchiato while I was spinning, my head featherlight from an overdose of cough syrup. Strangely my cough had disappeared - out of shock at Dario's - and now it had returned. After pranzo, we walked around town and found many ristoranti chiusi al lunedi but were already planning where to eat at night.

Arezzo was molto tranquilla and we had the whole citta to ourselves, nipping into the various food stores, palazzi and chiese. The architettura was stunning, specialmente the Piazza Grande where the famous medieval Giostra is held every year and a monthly antiques fair takes place. It was also here that we recalled the scene where Benigni's character first saw his romantic interest (the teacher) riding by on her bicycle in 'La Vita E' Bella'. All over town, we saw more signs detailing where other scenes were shot.

Known also for its jewellery, fashion and arts, Arezzo turned out to be more charming than I expected. The views were amazing, specialmente from il parco di Prato on this spectacular cloudy day. The sun rays illuminated the shallow valleys below as we stood at the railing and embraced the breeze. When we left Museo Diocesano, it started to drizzle so we headed back with snacks of peach, birra and proscuitto. F napped while I chirped happily like a bird to Tiziano on Italian MTV.

That evening, we strolled to the lively area near the anfiteatro romano for the night mercato (akin to our pasam malam) where the streets were lined with hundreds with mobile stalls. There were all kinds of stuff on sale - from household needs and clothings to plants, toys and even pets! Of course we were drawn to the edibles such as the rainbow-coloured sweets, licorice waffers (gross), chunky blocks of caramelised nuts, proscuitto, salame, formaggio, baccala and preserved olives, sundried tomatoes and stuffed chillies.

Sopratutto, we were salivating over the cooked food - sizzling burger patties, hotdogs, and truckfuls of whole porchetta. Earlier at the park today, we spoke to 3 locals who said we got to try the porchetta di Toscana qui. Just our luck, there are so many stalls selling the crispy suckling pig and we picked a busy kiosk where people were eating it between bread. I asked the guy "Posso comprare la porchetta senza il pane?" followed by "Vorrei un etto (100g)" to which the old man passed a comment which made the other guests laughed. I just shrugged and paid 5E for a neat pack for 2 persone. It was buonissimo, salty pure fatty meat, downed with our Lambrusco.


The next day we went to Cortona - made famous and romanticised by Frances Mayes' Under The Tuscan Sun' - in autobus (4,35E/ 2-way). It was just an hour ride away and the bus climbed the steep slopes to the quaint town atop the hill. Expectedly there were a lot of Americans judging from the accents we overheard at the gelateria, cafes and shops. Its mappa seemed big but it was actually quite piccola. We covered la strada Via Nazionale to the cattedrale in 5mins. The lookout points were fantastic at every angle as the town was 500m above sea level.

We hunted down Via Jannelli for the ancient case with the protruding 2nd floors and came across carine porte and dead pigeons. Si dead pigeons. I was memerised but F thought I was pazzissima. It was a little morbid but how often does one come across an intact dead pigeon with its guts all split out and a peaceful smile across its cute beak. The slopes were a killer especially in the afternoon heat. F was dripping with sweat when we ascended Via Berrettini from Piazza della Repubblica (where they shot the film 'Under The Tuscan Sun').

No, I hadn't been pinched in the arse so far (damnit! ;) but some people have complimented me on my 'molto bene italiano'. Allora domani partiamo per Firenze - la nostra preferita citta nel mondo - where we'd stay with il mio caro amico Lorenzo! Yipppeeee!

Horror farm

Allora finalmente i got the chance to blog! Scusa se ero MIA ma tu sai che difficile da trovare un internet cafe. I know, I'm supposed to be at the farm now toiling my arse off for Dario il contadino. MA things took an unexpected turn... and the farm became a horror film set. After spending 2 gorgeous days at Siena, we left on Domenica per Sinalunga where we got a lift from Alessandro and his 18-year old figlia Silvia on their way to Arezzo (they thought we looked 18, haha). Aless looked like a mad drunk but was troppo gentile and they dropped us off at Monte San Savino where we waited 4 bloody hours for Dario who was stuck in traffico from Venice.

Finalmente our bladders could'nt take it anymore and we walked 400m to the nearest bar. Fern's backpack was giving way to the 3kg of ham and 2 bottiglie di Lambrusco among other foodstuffs she bought. When Dario and his 11 year-old figlio Michele finally arrived at 8plus, we were tired, hungry and bitten to death by the zanzare (mossies). His farm was at Palazzuolo, and we had to turn into a long narrow unpaved road in the dark. He seemed friendly enough and we exchanged pleasantries. When I inquired about his famiglia, he told us his wife and him have split but still living in the same casa. Their 3 kids and wife stayed in their own quarters while he has his own room and storerooms for his produtti. Che strano.

Then we were talking about his miso and his son wanted to know what we were talking about in inglese. Dario told Michele he doesn't know anything about miso and Michele then told him to vaffanculo! Wah lao! Which son in any culture would tell his old man to go fuck himself in front of guests? It was obviously a sign of disrespect. I let out an embarrassed coughed and muttered to F what he just did. When we reached the house, it was already dark and we were all tired and hungry. After giving us a quick tour of his quarters, he whipped up a frugal dinner of miso soup, riso and a fried zucchini in his messy kitchen. And he forgot to pour us any acqua or vino. Compared to Casa Lanzarotti's 4-course cena and Elena's multi-course dinners, it was indeed miserable.

After dinner, he led us to his musky storeroom where his miso fermented in large vats pressed down with huge stones and another messy store connected to his equally untidy bedroom. The worst shock was the toilet. There was a bin overflowing with soiled tissue and the mirror was cracked and the shelves messy with junk. It looked like he didn't care for his personal hygiene. F almost threw up while I just laughed disbelievingly - to overcome my shock.

The funniest thing was he told us we couldn't stray to his wife's side and we must not use too much water (since it came from their own well) so we felt quite restricted. That night we'd have to sleep in his smelly bed which he did change his sheets and pillowcases because the ladder leading to the guestroom upstairs was not ready. He had no time to do anything even though he knew we were coming 2 weeks ago! F and I were so traumatised we just lay in bed in our clothes, jeans and bras - huddled like rabbits - on the 2cm thin mattresses. We had not slept with our bras on for years, infatti mai! We kept laughing and laughing to get over the shock and plot our escape the next morning. We couldn't imagine staying there living like this and using his shitty toilet. All night she stuck to me like a petrified bolster and we were so grateful when the light came in at dawn.

Seeing Siena

After a restful night at Casa Lanzarotti and exchanging sad goodbyes with them, we got on the treno and endured a pretty painless 4-hour ride from Borgo Val di Taro changing trains twice at Pisa and Empoli. I asked F if she wanted to see the leaning tower - we could steal an hour and run to see the one of the world's wonders but she'd rather come back again and not rush it. Va bene!

Alla stazione di Siena, I had told the bus ticketing's grouchy office lady and the blur-fuck bus driver that we wanted to go to Via Donzelle (I was pretty sure that I pronounced it right). I even told him its 'vicino la Piazza del Campo' but he kept us on the bus till we ended up at some industrial area called Via Donzelli, 4km outside Siena. Che cazzo! Volevo ucciderlo! (I wanted to kill him)

We couldn't find a taxi or bus, and no one in their cars - nessuno! - stopped to help us, both waving at the roadside. In the end, we asked a lady who was in her casa who said the centro was solo 5mins up the hill a destra. The 5 mins became an impossibile hour with our heavy backpacks up the slopes in the freakin' heat. F almost died climbing this extremely steep 100m slope with her 3kg of proscuitto, 2 bottiglie di Lambrusco and other goodies.

I laughed till I cried but she cursed it was not funny. She, the one with very active sweat glands, was drenched. Finalmente at around 3plus, we found the Piccolo Hotel Etruria in the centro di Siena and they had a room for us at 86E a notte - a good deal considering the sheer proximity to the Piazza del Campo. Starving, we grabbed some pizza to curb our fame and acclimatised to the busy strade and piazza where the towering Torre del Mangia stood firm for eternity.

In the evening, we found the highly-recommended Antica Trattoria Papei (from my Frommer guidebook), located in an open carpark of sorts facing the valleys below. Our boyish waiter Amedeo was molto amichevole and agreed he'd speak to me in inglese while I in italiano. We wasted no time and chowed down on the caprese (6E) and crostini al pate di fegatini di pollo (chicken liver / 3E) - not much to look at but buonissimi with the bottiglia di Chianti.

F left it to me to order our mains - the local specialties of pappardelle al cinghiale (wildboar/ 7E) and a gorgeous coniglio all'arrabiatta (rabbit/ 10E) perfumed with rosemary, pinenuts and olives. Luckily the food and vino kept us warm as the temperature dipped at the outdoor terrace. Going all the way, we ended with a salame al cioccolato (choc sponge roll/ 4E) and macchiato per F, tea for me (all for 51E - less than Peck at Milano!).

Feeling satisfied and generose, we gave Amedeo a 4E tip and in return he brought over 3 shots of limoncello and downed a shot with us as well as handed out the trattoria's card with his name scribbled behind - hilarious! Maybe he was expecting us to look him up again?! After biding farewell to the rich American couple next to us, we couldn't keep our eyes open so we headed back to learn that Pavarotti had passed away. Luckily we didn't go to his hometown Modena becos it'd have been madness.

The next day we decided to take it easy in Siena on sabato (Paolo's compleanno!) instead of making a day trip to nearby Arezzo. Sometimes when you try to pack too much into your itinerary, you won't get to absorb the essence of that place. After colazione at the crowded Nannini cafe and grocery-shopping at a local negozio, our first stop was at the glorious black-and-white marbled Duomo where we spent an hour exploring the dim cavenous interiors whilst admiring the intricate marble inlays and hexagonal dome.

Designed and completed between 1215 and 1263, the medieval cathedral was modelled in black and white, the symbolic colors of Siena, derived from the neri e bianchi cavalli of the city's legendary founders Senius and Aschius, sons of Remus. They had stolen the statue of the she-wolf, breast-feeding Romulus and Remus, from the Apollo temple in Rome - which became the symbol of Siena too (you can spot it everywhere).

Inside everyone was glued to the inlaid marble mosaiced floor, one of the most ornate of its kind in Italy, which depicted scenes from the Old Testament. Completed in 2 centuries (14th-16th c.), about 40 artists contributed to the 56 panels in varying sizes. Interestingly, the uncovered floor could only be seen for 6 to 10 weeks, including Settembre so we were fortunate. The rest of the year, only a few are on public display. Be sure to also pop into the richly decorated Piccolini Library, housing precious illuminated choir books and stunning frescoes painted by the Umbrian Bernardino di betto, Pinturicchio.

Feeling quite hungry now, I asked a shopkeeper for a lunch recommendation and he kindly pointed us to 'Il Ghibellino Osteria' around the corner where a post-baptism lunch was held for an adorable baby girl. The priest was there drinking wine next to a Andy-Garcia lookalike with greasy hair. It was a cosy place manned by 2 men and the prices were very affordable. We were amazed by the amount of shaved black truffles heaped atop F's tagiatelle al tartufo nero (15E) and its aroma was whiffing all around us. I polished my piatto of local pici al ragu del Re (7E) and the contorno di fiori di zucca fritti (fried zucchini flowers/ 4E) easily, washed down with a half-bottiglia of amazingly cheap and good Chianti again.

We then went to Museo dell'Opera www.operaduomo.siena.it to view the original works that used to adorn the duomo's facade and made our way up the Facciatore for sweeping views across the city's rooftops with the other highpoint Torre del Mangia towering afar over the Palazzo Pubblico. The vista here was better than that of the tower, as agreed by F when we climbed up the torre at sunset later.

I warned F that it'd be quite claustrophobic to ascend the 102m tall vertical tunnel as I recounted the 1st time when I did it da sola and nearly had a seizure. Fortunately it was much easier this tinme round. Once at the top, we lingered for the longest time till 6pm while peering dreamily over the edge at the Piazza del Campo and surroundings, bathed in the sun's soft golden glow. At 6pm the bell chimed loudly above us which gave us such a fright! A voice announced through the system that it was closing time and we realised we were the last ones reluctant to leave.

We found Trattoria La Torre at via Salicotto where the sombre-looking but carino nonno was a walking menu and recommended his daily specials to everyone in italian! Fortunatamente per noi, I could order the dark pink-hued beet stracci al ragu and the cinghiale for Ferne. I also couldn't resist a contorno of zucchini stewed in pomodoro, even though he said the wild boar would come with potatoes. His niece filled up a bottiglia with the house Chianti and served it up subito while his husband was visbily churning out plates after plates of pasta and stews from the tiny open kitchen.

A Casa di nuovo

We left Meda early and enjoyed one last good colazione with the Longhi famiglia at this charming 80 year-old pasticceria Ravagnati at nearby town Mariano Comense, where we creamed over the best cappucino and pillowy brioche oozing with cioccolato. According to Elena, Ravagnati had the best pastries which were gleaming in neat rows behind the glass counter. We just had to porta-via (ta-bao) some of my favourite aragoste and also these tubby cannoncini rolls filled with crema custard (Ele's cure on her blue day). We wolved them down in the car and gave Ele the thumbs up!

Alla stazione, we all hugged and kissed goodbye, and sweet Paolo smiled his shy toothy grin at us one last time. Next year when I see him again, he'd be 2 years old and his italian will probably be better than mine! We got to Milano and tried to get a rimborso (refund) for our missed Eurostar treno from Venice, ma non e' possibile. Boo-hoo. A good S$90 down the canal. We got to nearby Parma (an hour away) quickly where I helped a Chinese man to get to his next stazione (he only spoke cinese!) and we dropped our bags at the consistently excellent tourist office (in fact the best I've encountered in Italy) and literally hurried to locate our next pitstop, Sorelle Picchi Salumeria e Trattoria on via Farini. We came to Parma per solo una ragione - PROSCUUIITTOOOOO!!!

The 40-seater family-run eatery was recommended by Mingers and also held in great esteem by testimonials and reviews online. At lunchtime, the joint got packed quickly and we got down to business with some vino rosso and 2 plates of proscuitto (9E) and culatello (12E) con melone (3E). We mms a foto of my intoxicated red face next to the heavenly slices of ham to Fiona in S'pore and she was so gelosa, haha! The waiter kept looking at our table and finally chatted us up in giapponese 'Oishi?' to which I said 'No.. buonissimo!'.

We could see the 2 women chefs in the tiny open kitchen trying hard to keep up with the lunch orders including our next pasta courses - generous servings of tortelli di zucca (pumpkin/ 8,50E) and cappelletti in brodo (small round mounds stuffed with meat in a light tasty broth/ 9E). Ferne bought 2 etti di culatello (16E) for Patzy and then promptly went matta (mad) at il negozio vicino 'Specialità di Parma where she carted back a 3kg leg of proscuitto, 3 bottles of Lambrusco, stick of bottarga, block of parmigiano for home and a platter of lean proscuitto as our snack (all for 80E only!). After all we did promise our amici that we'd at least smuggle the ham for them otherwise there'd be no pace (peace)!

With no time to spare, we had a quick look around town as I pointed out the more significant palazzi to her. We then quickly repacked our bags and ran with our heavier load to catch the 4plus treno to Borgo Val di Taro. I had been waiting so long to see Iris and Gianluca again at Casa Lanzarotti and finally we were here! The scenery was the same as I remembered, surrounded by lush green mountains and cool streams below.

After paying the rude, obnoxious cab driver 13E (troppo!), I skipped down the path into the casa and found Iris in the kitchen (sempre) with an American Woofer Kim and we hugged in the familiar cosy dining room. Gianluca came out from his office and shook my hand and met Ferne too. We recalled my farm stay 2 years ago and they updated me about the fattoria and loved the presents we brought, including a CD of foto I took last time. I was glad that they'd be able to use the pictures for their refreshed website and brochures.

They gave us the lovely bedroom on the ground floor next to the cute bathroom where I loved to peep out at the wondrous valley and lush hills. Excited to be back, I gave F a tour as if it was my own fattoria. The animali were still there; Giacomina la cavalla looked better than I remembered, sempre con le sue pecore. However the 2 pigs which I named Porky and Penny were eaten last year and had been replaced by 4 curious fatty bomboms that came to investigate us as we attempted to photograph their snouts upclose.

Henry the rooster was also replaced by un altro gallo giovane con tante galline. According to Iris, one hen had hatched 5 chicks that were always running behind their mamma among the bushes but we didn't see them at all. The old ram that was in love with Giacomina was also morto. The worst news was that Puffo, the friendliest cat among the 3 gatti, had also died in winter in Febbraio from an intestinal virus. Si, e' stato veramente molto triste perdere Puffo, lui era un gatto troppo simpatico.

I was consoled that Puffa and Georgina both looked great and were friendlier than I recalled. In fact Georgina had strangely taken a fancy to Ferne and took every opportunity to curl up and nap on her lap. We also went to the backyard where my beloved 'spacepod' caravan was, and just when I was about to enter the enclosure, F pointed to Toro the black menacing-looking bull which came charging from far. I backed up in time, pissing in my pants amused and relieved. Apparently he's very sweet and just wanted some apple treats from his visitors!

La verdura and la frutta especially the wild raspberries all looked lovely in the greenhouse and fields. We found an overgrown melazana and gigantic pomodoro in the storeroom and laughed like mad posing with them as if they were the latest Bottega clutch purses. The fig tree had also grown and bore fruit so we plucked some ripe yummy ones to eat before we washed up for dinner.

We shared our proscuitto con melone for the starter, followed by Iris' homemade tagiatelle with nettle tossed with zucchini e pecorino fresco. The Lambrusco we bought was a gorgeous nero and full-bodied, and went very well with the manzo con polenta and insalata di pomodori misti (the mixed tomatoes were dancing with colours and flavours). Finalmente somehow we found room to stomach il dolce di panna cotta with homemade marmalade - oh how I've missed Iris' cooking!

We kept piling Gianluca with vino and the poor guy had to print out 100 brochures for una sagra dei funghi domani (mushroom festival tomorrow). He was so funny telling us about his encounters with magic mushrooms and that he had a travelling marbled hand and imagined he was a snail! That night I slept like a log, contenta to be back at my casa.

Una gita di Liguria

The next day my eyes snapped open at 6am and I lay in bed watching the light creep in from the small window in the slanted attic roof above. It was a bright cloudless sunny day perfect for our gita di Camogli and Portofino in Liguria. Elena, Alberto and Paolo were all in matching white and blue combos - they looked so cute as a famiglia. We had colazione of brioche and cappucino at a local pasticceria before going on the 2-hour car ride. Paolo was very well-behaved and soon fell asleep as we pulled away from Milano.

The scenery revealed wonderful vistas of the azzuro sea as our car zipped in and out of the tunnels carved from the hills. Mid-way I felt a little carsick and joked with Alberto 'Posso vomitare in tua macchina?' (Can I vomit in your car?) As we got closer to Camogli, I pointed out to F the typically Ligurian houses and their beautiful handpainted designs which decorated the windows and facades. Some patterns were very elaborate stretching across whole walls. The last time I took so many pictures of them in Varese and Cinque Terre.

At Camogli, the sun was blazing down in full force and even little Paolo was squinting from his stroller. The sky and the sea seemed like an infinite blanket of azzuro. The air was heavy with late summer heat which didn't affect the already troppo abbronzati italians grilling like salsiccia on the pebbled beach. Alberto agreed that these people were too tanned, he didn't like the sun while Ele gleefully said she loved it!

We stopped for a merenda of the local foccacia - thin baked pasta sheets topped with a creamy soft cheese Crescenza. Soooo goooood. I couldn't resist buying the traditional foccacia bread studded with olives, as well as una tortina di carciofi (artichokes) for dinner later because I was molto curiosa e gelosa! We walked around the scenic cosy harbour, crowded with various fishing boats and yachts, and dreamt about owning a bella casa con una balcone here. Property prices had gone through the roof in the last decade so we just had to dream for now.

Their favourite ristorante was closed so we went to Golfo Paradiso which was perched above the beach, where F and I exchanged our trofie al pesto (fresh tight curls of pasta topped with a fragrant basilico sauce typical of Liguria) and spaghetti alla vongole, the little buggers bursting with flavour. Ele and Alb had misti frutti di mare while Paolo nibbled on latte, pane, biscotti and some of my trofie. We grabbed some gelato before leaving Camogli for the famoso glamourous town of Portofino, passing by the quaint Santa Margarita.



I've heard about Portofino, the playground for the rich, famous and beautiful. It didn't look that different from the other postcard-perfect seafront towns I've visited - the only tell-tale signs are the expensive boutiques (art, jewellery, luxury clothings ecc) and huge, huge yachts and super liners. Alberto stayed in the macchina to babysit Paolo who was sleeping while we ladies strolled to the porto to admire the sleek 3-storey liners and inquired the boys if there were any celebrities onboard. Nope, no George Clooney in sight, darn.

We drove home shortly towards evening; the journey took longer than going there as the brutto traffico clot the autostrada towards Milano. Everyone was going home in rush hour and Alberto pointed out that there was only una persona in ogni macchina. E' vero. They probably haven't learnt the concept of car-pooling here. My bladder was quite full and I was trying to distract Paolo who was feeling quite restless, strapped into his baby seat. That night we had two guests over - Andrea and Giovanna - amici of the famiglia, who also got to taste the mooncakes, a novelty which grew on them.

Prima fermata Milano

Lo ammesso. Non ho avuto molto bene l'impressione di Milano. The first time I was there, it was in the middle of Ferragosto in 2005 and la citta era morta. Mortissima. I knew nobody and nobody took interest in me, save for 1) a stranger who came up and said 'sei filippina?' 2) a gipsy boy who grabbed my hand at the Piazza Duomo and proceeded to demand 2euros after the pigeons flapped and pecked hungrily at poor unsuspecting me and 3) a snob who was also dining alone al ristorante and boasting to me about his riches. Basta gia. (Click on archive August 2005 if you're curioso)

To make things worse, Santa Maria delle Grazie, which housed Leonardo Da Vinci's famosa 'L'Ultima Cena', was full during the one day I was there. Madonna! I cursed and swore and ate a gelato instead. This time round, I wasn't so keen on The Last Supper (after hearing Anna Maria's review) but rather I was more concerned about my next colazione (brekkie), pranzo (lunch) e cena (dinner) *giggle* - after all, I couldn't remember a memorable meal a Milano.

Things look set to change with Elena and Alberto's advice at hand. It's amazing how we remain friends after that brief chance encounter at the pebbled beach at Salina in Sicilia. They were on honeymoon then and now there's Paolo, their little almost-one year old bellino rascal. Every odd month, Ele wouldd send me photos of them and how he has grown (pic of them in Nice)! It was great to see them finalmente after our 2 years of email correspondences!

We arrived at Milano after 18 hours of travelling on the plane and awake in the bar cabin of the Eurostar treno (freakin 42E!) from Roma. Sweet Alberto came to pick up our bags while Elena brought us to Milano centro for a tour. We had a late lunch at the somewhat poshy Peck's italian bar (everyone in biz suits except us) - vitello tonno per me, pork cutlet with patate for Ferne and beef carpaccio for Ele; washed down with macchiato and cioccolato squares (55E). There's a small Peck outlet at Takashimaya S'pore but it's nothing quite like its wondrous salumeria here!

Imagine 3 floors of gastronomic bliss! They had everything from all over Italia, including all kinds of cheeses (mozzarellaaaa!), proscuitto (whole freakin legs and legs of it), verdura, frutta (only seasonal best), freshly made pane and pasta, biscotti, marmalade, caffe, tea e dolci. There was an entire basement devoted to wines from all over Italia - I couldn't stop oohing and ahhing. I'm in heaven!

On my behalf, Ele asked the manager for permission to take photos (for my personal use, we assured him) and I shot 6 instead of the 3 as promised. Hahaha. We couldn't resist a mini cioccolato tart among the gleaming display of cakes and other sweets, and admired another nearby shop window full of toasty fresh bread. Not far from it was a grocer's stand, stacked with my favourite ficchi (I had to buy some green figs) and freshly-plucked chestnuts still in their furry green shells. I had only seen them in pictures but not upclose.

We then toured the inside of the Duomo (no time for the rooftop), followed by the poshy Galleria where I stepped on the coglioni of the bull on the mosaiced floor (for good luck I think). No time for La Scala teatro, we trodded past the famous 7-star albergo 'Grande Milan' where Giuseppe Verdi had stayed post-performances alla Scala Teatro and ogled at the designer shops along Via Napoletana. At 5pm we hurried to catch the crowded rush-hour treno to the quiet town of Meda (20mins away) where she lived in a gorgeous 3-storey house. I couldn't believe I was here and Ele was sitting opposite me, chatting happily away with Ferne.

At their casa, the first face that greeted us was Paolo, the little minx with that gappy toothy grin, chubby cheeks and twinkly eyes. He was cuter in person and wasn't afraid of us, 2 Asian strangers. While Alberto started assembling cena, Ele gave us a tour of their bella casa. Even if it was incomplete upstairs, our stanza in the lovely spacious attic was so inviting. F pointed out all the designer stuff - Alessi, Flos, Cassini, ecc - because she had shopped around for her own appartamento in S'pore.

We cleaned up for dinner, starting with bravo Alberto's risotto alla milanese - a classic local specialty with saffron, salsiccia (sausage meat) and lots of formaggio. Buonissimo. In between he stuffed us with salame and sips of Morellino, a very pleasing light red vino from Toscana. We both tasted it and nodded in approval. "Buon, non 'e pesante," I said to him it's good, not heavy. Alberto doesn't speak much inglese (although he understand) so I had to be diligente with my italiano. Ferne admitted she wasn't a huge fan of risotto but she - like me - finished every grain on our plate. It was nicely al dente and flavourful.

Next we had silky thin slivers of fatty pancetta with insalata and the cutest cherry pomodori di Calabria. Heavenly. At this point, the wine, fatigue and jet lag started to kick in and we were trying to leep our eyes awake. Desserts were a fare exchange - we surpised them with our mooncakes (still intact from the flight!) and fragrant organic Japanese green tea while they made us a very impressive molten cioccolato cake dusted with sugar and paired with raspberry marmalade. We thought he made it from scratch but later found out it was an instant mix (could have fooled us)!

It was a fabulous welcome dinner, very carefully planned by them (grazie carissimi!), which made us feel so at home. Luckily they were quite delighted with our gifts - a blue scarf with farfalle for Ele, incense for Alberto, a long table runner for the casa, a Nemo fish lantern for Paolo and the Chinese paper lanterns which would be perfette for Paolo's 1st birthday garden party this sabato. Too bad we'd miss it. Anyway when our heads touched the pillow, we were out in a blink. All was quiet and peaceful.