Friday, August 30, 2013

Euroboike


 And now, fast forward a couple of days from writing anything and I find myself sitting in a small and private corner of a massive Bike Exhibition in 100 meters by 1 Kilometre made up of 14 halls,  sheltering from the masses. And masses. And masses.Barely anyone speaking in English. My trip up to Germany had been in a car with two Italians talking Italian non-stop-as they do(not that there is anything wrong with that). I spent that night out for dinner and camping with 5 different Italians all speaking Italianas they do(not that there is anything wrong with that). With the occasional check to see if everything is okay with me. I spent my time trying to keep up. I am not complaining. No way. It would be the reverse if Italians came to NZ with barely a grasp on the language. No one is going to struggle with Italian to make conversation. So this is just life & all I really want to do is comfort eat right now, but the queues are too long.  Eurobike is Fucking Mon-U-Fucking-Mental. Not that there is anything wrong with that. It has a very German flavour, not that there is anything wrong with that either...with more Electric bikes than you can shake an extension lead at. There is something very wrong with that. Recumbents and E-Bikes. They can all fuck off. The amount of anodised bling on show could give you cancer, or erectile dysfunction (mark my words, it will be medically proven before too long). I had to find a focus. So it became Cyclocross bikes and anything to make them better. Like Carbon. Or Titanium. Or Disc Brakes. Or a combination of all those 3. It was also a bit of a man fest. I never made it to the fashion show...maybe that would have been good for my dysfunction, but the general walking around with a crowd of Businessmen who are obviously in it for the business alone and add to that a whole bunch of man-bike-geeks 'n' freaks... it does wear thin. Being amongst your own stereotype doesn't half make you shine a tiny LED spotlight on the whole big business wankfest. 
  On returning to Torino I stayed up until 12 a.m. Unable to get to sleep- even though my knees were screaming from all the walking. I managed to find my next weeks accommodation and secure that. I wrote up all the contacts I made so I could shed the weight of their broschures.
 My latest discovery is to nip to the local Bar, get a granita of whatever flavour takes my fancy, bring it upstairs, make a Vodka with it. Make Another Vodka with it. - usually really fucking strong because having 3 just sounds extravagant. Then off I go/stagger out for dinner. And tonights dinner was something special. I have been walking and Biking past a new place all week. Boldly I strode into "Rural"(it was the Duty free Absolut Honey Melon and Lemongrass Vodka and vanilla Granita controlling my manner ) Getting a table on their first night could have been risky I suppose. But I loved every bit of it. The raw Torinese sausage to kick off with ( a couple of bite size pieces as a taster/teaser). Then  Galantina di Gallina- a compressed roll of chicken, with truffle oil or something and figs. Then Spaghetti made by local Artisan with Amatriciana style sause. If I knew the translation was streaky bacon sooner I would have ordered a bath tub full to frolic in. Finishing with Rabbit - again compressed in a roll ( didn't expect that one!) and just so yummy. Buono!! Then... I mean THEN I finished with a coffee. From their gorgeous Faema E61 machine. And I might be in love with the Maitre d. She is one of the classiest women I have seen in Italy. And unusually not over tanned or Orange. Shit! did I say that out loud?
  So tomorrow is Saturday, I move to a new neighbourhood. I don't expect it to be as good as this one. The Roman Quarter has a nice vibe going on. My new territory San Salvario is a bit more multi racial, feels a bit rougher, and seems to be full of perpetually closed shops. But I am moving into a proper apartment instead of a loft studio. So maybe  (just maybe ) I will cook more.

  Mario and I help each other to stand on day 2 of Eurobike

Torino 2013


Essentially, the flight over to Europe from NZ presented no excitement. Except for 3 Italian films. And the hilarious stand up comedy of Simon Amstel presenting his show "numb".
The first flight was noteable for the kids in the row in front of me who were both blessed with great green globs of snot. And also because we were on our way to Asia there were other mucus issues. The Asians on board had no issue I am sure. But I did, every time I removed my noise cancelling headphones there seemed to be another person walking past massaging a morsel of mucus in their throat. Shuking and Chuggling a nose Oyster. The second flight notable for the all too familiar (albeit never noticed or acknowledged) feeling of anxiety. Kind of an out of body experience. 
" is this good for me?"... "have I slept enough?"... "have I slept too much?"... "are my motions out of whack?"..."or is it my emotions...?"
...it passed.
I never got to finish the amazing David Bowie documentary "5 Years in the Making" because the Austrian/Australian sat beside me got talking. I normally avoid this kind of stuff. But he was on his way to ride from Germany to Italy. Trans Alps. Just him and a mate. So we talked.
 After 35 hours I touched down in Zurich 8a.m ( along with everyone else on the massive Airbus A380. Then I had a train trip to organise.  Arrived at my apartment 9 and a half hours later. This was faster than it could have been because I built my bike on the train between Milano and Torino.
 Got showered and changed and went out for the Passagiata with all the locals.Failed to find trifle flavoured Gelato so settled for the seasonal Mirtillo (blueberry). Which was devine. Found a suitable spot for dinner, and after a bit more walking felt that this was to be the place. What a find!! I was early in true Kiwi eating time style. The only one sitting outside at Bazaaar. I started with the Duck salad which was gorgeous. I think it was cured Duck, very thinly sliced. Like a cross between Roast Beef and Pancetta. Then the Pasta was...um. Unexpected. Fresh Pasta with blueberry. Mixed through it were Hazelnuts & Pork Salami which was delightful & so subtly flavoured. Interesting and lovely.
 Monday started with a market mission, had an afternoon exploring the city by bike...and just as I was fading a storm came through in the evening with fantastic Thunder and lightning, so I stayed home to cook up all my fresh produce. The market at Porta Palazzo is the biggest open air market in Europe. And walking through the fresh produce was an assault on the senses. Sights, sounds and smells all amazing.
 Tuesday was a big day. Eighty kilometres on a Singlespeed. Arse is a bit tender now. No hills so sat down working at the spin the whole way. The interlude in the middle of the ride was when I got to Pinerolo to visit Giampaolo at his wonderfully cool and independent Bike Shop, “BikeCafe”. Then I explored the historic centre while I waited for our 1p.m lunch to start. Nice wee town that seems to have more than its fair share of Toy and Gaming shops.
  The ride out there was very nearly ended early by a very, very close shave with a bollard. I was distracted by a prostitute changing out of her nickers. The freshly relieved punter was in his car over the road, she was on the hard shoulder (no idea how it got its name)her nickers were down and it was either the sight of her strong African thighs... or the pink bits pointed at me as she bent over to step out of the soiled sensible knix. I looked back at the vital moment to miss the steel post sticking out of the cycleway. Speaking of Cycleways. Or routes. The whole route out of Torino was by cycleway until I got to the countryside. With a few extras scattered through the small towns on my way. My return trip was a bit faster. Maybe it was the Italian Beef I had for lunch. Or the Cheese. Or the Vino. Or the tailwind. But at one stage I drafted a tractor. Gaining extra points towards early onset lung cancer. The tractor was a bit smoky. But it was the  drivers cigarette that I spent the most time breathing. There must be an aerodynamic anomaly with tractors. Dead air amongst the straw thresher.
Dinner that night was back at my wee favourite Bazaaar.
Torino Sunset