Iowa Girl on the Go

Believe me when I say that I did not start out yesterday with the intention of driving half-way across the state of Iowa just so I could write a blog about the world’s smallest church.

But like last weekend, my plans got somewhat derailed.

It all started yesterday morning when I woke up to the sounds of a thunderstorm. The plan for the day was to leave Ames early, drive to northeast Iowa, visit Effigy Mounds National Monument, and then head back along Hwy. 20 and stop to tour Cedar Rock – the Lowell Walter house designed by Frank Lloyd Wright and located near Quasqueton, Iowa.

I’ve been to Effigy Mounds before and blogged about my experience back in October, but Dave wanted to visit the site, so we decided it would be a nice outing for Memorial Day weekend. And I figured the tour of Cedar Rock would give me something new to write about.

So off we went at about 7:30 a.m. The skies were stormy, but the rain had stopped, and we were optimistic about our chances for a good day. But not far into the drive, we caught up with the storm that had dumped on Ames earlier in the morning, and it started raining steadily.

The Cedar Rock website isn’t exactly stellar, and I wasn’t completely clear on the hours of operation during Memorial Day Weekend, so as we neared the turnoff for Quasqueton, we decided to drop by and check it out. (The highway sign promoting the site said “closed,” by the way.) We got to the gate (which also says “closed”) and drove up to the front of the visitor center just as a DNR truck pulled up behind us. I hopped out to go check out the posted hours, but the DNR rep stopped me and asked if I needed anything. I told her our plans to return to the home later in the day – if it was going to be open. She said it would be open from 11 a.m. to 4 p.m. for tours on the hour – and that if you don’t sign up for a tour, you don’t get to visit the home. (I thought the website made the guided tours seem optional.) She said the 4 o’clock tour was already full but that she’d sign me up for the 3 o’clock tour if I wanted. That sounded like a reasonable plan.

By the time I finished talking to her and got back in the car, I was drenched despite the fact that I’d been under a large umbrella the whole time. The rain continued as we headed northeast, and the lovely, rolling farmland I fell in love with last fall looked gloomy and sad underneath all the rain and fog.

Undaunted, we continued to Effigy Mounds (near Marquette, Iowa). When we arrived, it was raining so hard and the wind was so fierce, we just couldn’t make ourselves start out on the hike to the top of the site…so we hung out in the visitor center and watched the introductory film. When we emerged, the rain had let up a bit and the wind had died down, so we headed up the hill to the mounds and to lovely (on a good day) views of the Mississippi.

Someday I’d like to walk the full length of the Effigy Mounds trails. But not yesterday. Not in the rain. Although it did stop at times during our hike – and the rain made the green grass and trees practically glow.

After we visited some of the mounds and two views of the river, we walked back to our car…soggy and covered with mud…and headed to McGregor for lunch.

McGregor is the little river town just south of Effigy Mounds where I stayed overnight during my visit last fall. Dave and I ate at Old Man River, the brewpub I liked so much. We ordered onion rings for an appetizer because we were starving. They came out on a plate so huge and heaping with donut-sized rings that we shared them with the table full of strangers next to us.

By the time we’d eaten our lunch, it was nearly 2 o’clock – not nearly enough time to get back to Cedar Rock by 3 p.m. I called guest services to check on a possible cancellation in the 4 o’clock group and, hearing there was none, cancelled our 3 o’clock spot.

So now what to do? I had enjoyed going to Lansing last fall, so we headed up the river road and drove across the steel bridge at Lansing, then to the top of Mt. Hosmer for another view of the river (right). By this time, it had really stopped raining and the day was starting to brighten up a bit. We started back toward Ames via Elon Road – the 13-mile drive along a ridge with scenes of rolling farmland on either side.

Last fall, I was disappointed that The Sugar Bowl Ice Cream Company in Decorah had already closed for the season. So we decided to give it a try – and sure enough, it was open when we arrived. I had a scoop of coconut almond, and Dave – always the adventurer – got vanilla.

Leaving Decorah, I still wasn’t sure what I was going to blog about, but I was looking at the map to decide whether to drive back on Hwy. 9 or go south on Hwy. 150…when I saw some tiny type that said “World’s Smallest Church” just near Festina on Hwy 150. Bingo!

(As we’re trying to find this tiny church, I’m thinking wow, I was just at St. Peter’s Basilica in Vatican City – which I’m told is the largest church in the world. How ironic!)

It turns out that the world’s smallest church – officially called St. Anthony of Padua Chapel – is really adorable if you can find it (turn west at Festina, go down a gravel road, turn left on Little Church Road, go past some farms, and you’re there). I was joking on the way there that the church might be so small we’ll drive right by it without seeing it…and I might have to put a quarter next to it for scale in my photos. But all joking aside, it really was very sweet. You can walk right in and see the stained glass windows and the four tiny wooden pews – painted pale blue and each big enough for two regular-sized people or three tiny people. There’s an altar and some statues, and outside there are more statues and a few old graves and a log cabin.

For a dollar, you can buy a little brochure about the history of the church, which I did. (They sell them in the church’s entryway, on the honor system.) Here is what I learned: St. Anthony of Padua Chapel is 14 x 20 feet, and the belfry is 40 feet high. It seats 8. The church was built in 1885, using stones quarried just across the river. The chapel was built on the site of the first Catholic mission north of Dubuque. The family of Johann Gaertner built the chapel to honor a vow his mother made if Johann, who was drafted into the French army and served under Napoleon, returned safely from the Russian campaign. Or something like that. Relatives of Frank Huber (Johann’s son-in-law) maintain the chapel and grounds, which include Johann’s grave.

Well. The smallest church in the world. That seemed like a blog to me. So we headed home, tired, wet, happy… and still covered with mud.

I headed to Des Moines yesterday afternoon with good intentions of attending the Iowa Craft Brew Festival. I thought it would be a great mix of two of my favorite things: buying locally and drinking great beer. However, I was a bit apprehensive because I don’t enjoy big crowds nor standing in line, and this festival had some major red-flag issues: It was featured prominently on the cover of the Des Moines Register’s Thursday Datebook, and it was to be held in a relatively small space — 10th Street between Walnut and Mulberry.

Dave and I drove down anyway, excited for the possibility of tasting some new local brews and enjoying what had turned out to be a spectacularly nice early-summer day. We were planning to meet another couple, Jim and Sue Heemstra, and experience the festival together.

When we arrived downtown, we parked our car and walked around the corner to the festival area, only to be smacked with the reality of just how crowded one block could be. People were packed inside the festival area like sardines, and the line to get in was a half-block long. I immediately called our friends to ask if they were already inside (in which case we’d brave the crowd and meet them there) or if they hadn’t made it there yet (in which case I would suggest we bail). Turns out they were about 3 minutes behind us, so we stood and assessed the situation. Ultimately, we decided to spend the $80 that it would cost for 4 of us to enter the festival and go someplace where we could sit down and have a few slightly more civilized beers.

We headed to El Bait Shop, 200 SW 2nd Street, modestly promoted as “home of the biggest selection of American micro-brews in the world” and also known for its friendly patio. This turned out to be a good choice and the first destination in what would become an impromptu Rapture-day Pub Crawl. Obviously if this was going to be some sort of apocalypse, it would be best to go out with a beer in your hand.

The thing about El Bait Shop is that its beer selection is almost too good. We started out planning to each get a different beer and share it, then move to four new kinds of beer, thereby tasting up to a dozen or so different brews. But every time the waitress came around, we’d panic and order the same thing we were already drinking. But between our lively conversation, good beer, and platters of nachos, it really didn’t matter.

After drinking our fill at El Bait Shop, we moved on to Mullets, a newish bar located on the river at 1300 SE 1st Street. There we found another inviting (and very full) patio with an outstanding view of the downtown skyline and Principal Park, where an Iowa Cubs game was going on. We settled for pitchers of Fat Tire (simpler and much cheaper than the beer at El Bait) and a couple of weird appetizers: sweet potato tots and deep-fried pickles. I don’t know if it was the beer or the company, but we snarfed down both baskets in no time.

Once we’d downed a couple of pitchers, we moved on to our third and final destination. Jim called it “that basement bar that I’ve been to before…not sure of the name or exactly where it is, but I’m sure I can find it.” It was actually called Shorty’s and was indeed located in a basement. As it turns out, it’s actually underneath Sbrocco wine bar and restaurant on Court Avenue, but when you enter from the back, that’s certainly not apparent. Shorty’s very much has that “speakeasy” feel to it, and we instantly settled into a table and had one more round of beers before heading out into a thunderstorm that capped off our evening with a fast run to our cars.

Yesterday was not the best day to drive to Rainbow Iris Farm in rural Bedford, Iowa. For one thing, last week’s unseasonably warm weather had turned unseasonably cold. And windy. And it was raining. So there was mud.

Rainbow Iris Farm is located four miles of dirt (mud) roads off of Hwy. 148, very near the Missouri border. The farm manager is Kelly Norris, a 2008 Iowa State horticulture graduate whom I met when I was working on an entrepreneur feature story for VISIONS magazine. The Norris family owns the farm, but Kelly is gardener extraordinaire. He became Iowa’s youngest certified master gardener at age 13, has published a number of gardening books, and encouraged his family (at age 15) to start the iris farm.

The result is a 7.5-acre plot of blooming beauties. Rainbow Iris Farms is currently celebrating Bloomfest 2011 from May 7 to June 3. From shy, delicate, early-blooming dwarf irises to the showy, tall beardeds, irises are expected to bloom throughout this period of time.

When I was there yesterday, getting a perfectly good pair of shoes muddy, maybe a third of the plots had irises in bloom. The rest of them looked like they were nearly ready to pop. It will just take some warm, sunny weather to get them to show off their colors.

Kelly’s irises are unique in that he is a prolific plant breeder. He is creating new cultivars each year. As I tromped around in the mud, exclaiming about the color of this iris and that, Kelly pointed out that the ones I liked were actually crosses between these other ones here and here…I get sort of lost in the genetics of it all, but gosh they are pretty. Kelly says there are 1,100 different kinds in all.

The Rainbow Iris Farm catalog can be accessed online at www.rainbowfarms.net. Order early for best selection! Plants are shipped in the fall.

If you want to take your chances with the weather, visit the farm yourself. Directions can be found online.

Now that I’m back in Iowa and finally over my jet lag, I decided to go to … the Netherlands. Well, not actually the Netherlands, but pretty close: Tulip Time in Pella, Iowa.

IowaGirl readers will already know that I’m a big fan of Pella, because I wrote about the cheese and pastry shops and historical museum at Christmas time…and I made another run to the bakery when I visited nearby Knoxville to review Peacetree Brewing. It’s one of my favorite places to go.

But it’s been a very long time since I actually went to Pella during Tulip Time. Maybe 12 years ago? I have gotten into the habit of visiting Pella each year the weekend BEFORE Tulip Time. That way, I get to see all the tulips and shop for pastries but avoid the crowds.

I decided to suck it up and actually attend Tulip Time this year because it’s such a spring tradition in Iowa, and because if you don’t go on the actual weekend you miss all the wonderful Dutch costumes and the food vendors.

I should mention that there’s a lot more to do at Tulip Time than smell tulips, eat, and watch the twice-daily parades. It’s a big three-day festival. There are museum tours, art exhibits, a quilt show, 5K run/walk, car show, city tours, flower show, kids’ activities, concerts, and a grandstand show. I am sure they are all delightful. I think every man, woman, and child in Pella is somehow involved in the celebration.

We arrived on Friday afternoon and took advantage of the shuttle parking on the outskirts of town so as to avoid having to fight for a parking place. Our first destination was the food vendors clustered on the side streets. Most of the vendors were selling typical state fair food (walking tacos, pork chop on a stick, burgers, spiral potatoes, funnel cakes). I wanted something unique. We finally found the poffertje stand and bought a dozen of the hot little Dutch pancakes sprinkled with powdered sugar. You can also order them with strawberries and whipped cream. Later, I bought some stroopwafels — thin waffle-like wafers filled with a honey caramel layer.

The tulips were beautiful this year…a little further along than when I normally see them, but fully open and colorful from one end of the town to the other. The beds at Scholte Gardens are my favorites.

People were lined up for the 2:30 p.m. parade long before the parade began. I first thought I’d sit in the grass on the north side of the square, but then the mothers with numerous wailing toddlers and their oversized strollers invaded my space, and I had to move. I ended up standing at the intersection right across from the grandstand on the south side of the square. I watched the parade for quite awhile…loved the Dutch costumes and the many, many adorable children (it seems like there is quite a Fertility Club in Pella).

There were some nice floats, with the Royal Court, cheese and flower vendors, street scrubbers, and much more. It was a long parade. I got bored after a time and decided to go stand in line at Jaarsma’s Bakery before the parade ended and the line would become totally unmanageable. Even during the parade, the line was halfway down the block. But seriously, you can’t go to Pella without going to the bakery.

My feet hurt by this time (note to self: although Pella is a small town, you will do a lot of walking at Tulip Time, so wear appropriate footwear) so we decided to take the shuttle back to our car.

Arriving in Venice is a thrilling experience, because you have to come to the city by boat. In our case, it was two boats for the people and another boat (or maybe two?) for our luggage.

The Veneto region is quite different from where we spent the past four days (Tuscany), and we had to go through the mountains to get here. While we were on the bus we watched a documentary on the history of Venice, which I found very interesting. There are not many cities in the world with the kind of physical and political history as Venice.

We arrived at our hotel in the early afternoon. The Dei Dogi hotel is surprisingly large and elegant, with a huge garden that goes all the way back to the open water. We had a drink and some snacks, got settled into our rooms, and then went for a walk as a group to the famous Rialto Bridge.

Venice is not a huge place – perhaps the size of New York’s Central Park – but it can seem overwhelming at first because there are so many bridges and canals and tiny alleyways. But that’s what makes Venice unique.

After our walk we rambled in small groups, splitting apart and reconnecting here and there for shopping or gelato or drinks. My small group stopped at a bar and I had a beer. Later we ate dinner in a sidewalk café overlooking a picturesque canal.

The next morning we boarded water taxis at the hotel that took us via the Grand Canal (a thrilling ride) to St. Mark’s Square. It was a beautiful warm, sunny day and there were a LOT of tourists with the same idea we did.

St. Mark’s was extremely crowded. And actually it was disappointing because several buildings were undergoing repairs, so there were construction materials covering a few of the facades and foundations. That, plus more freestanding souvenir stands than I remember being there 10 years ago and twice as many people really took away the magic of the place.

But no matter. We did a wonderful walking tour all over the main part of the city, ending back at St. Mark’s. Then we saw a quick glass-blowing demonstration and looked in the showroom at a lot of pretty glass that would not look good in my house.

In spite of the crowds and lines everywhere, a few of us decided to go up to the top of St. Mark’s bell tower. In all of my travels, my experience going up to the top of the tower 10 years ago was one of my very favorites. That time, I went up in the early evening just as the city was drenched in golden light. And while I was up there, looking at what may be the most incredible view in the world, the bells began to ring. It was amazing. I laughed and cried. My experience today might not have been so emotional, and we were up there in the bright light of mid-day, but the view was no less fantastic. I was not disappointed. It might be the best 8 euros I spent the whole time I’ve been in Italy.

The rest of the day was spent walking and eating and looking into shops and walking and drinking the occasional beer. Mostly I took pictures and enjoyed this amazing city.

I can’t believe this is my last night in Italy!

We’re still in Tuscany today, and Italy is still celebrating Easter with a Monday holiday so it was crowded everywhere we went. Today we were in San Gimignano (say “jimin-yano”), a medieval town with 13 bell towers and an 8th-century skyline. I’m sort of fresco-ed out and medieval-ed out and, believe it or not, gelato-ed out.

So after a huffing-puffing walking tour of the city up the steep hills, it felt really nice to sit down in a restaurant that featured (I’m still pinching myself): Belgian beer. Really! Italy is not known for its beer selection (Peroni, Moretti) so it was really exciting to see something else. And the restaurant was so much fun… our guide Mauro took a few of us with him, and it was a real hole-in-the-wall, down a dark alley. Never would have found the place in a million years. The owner was a hoot, the food (a huge bruschetta with mozzarella, basil, and tomatoes) was great, and they played Dire Straits and  Creedence Clearwater Revival the whole time we were there. Not only did we sing along, we might have gotten up and danced if there had been room. (That’s me with the owner.)

After San Gimignano, we went to the Tenute Niccolai winery for a wonderful tour and tasting, complete with delicious pecorino sheep’s milk cheese and olive oil. We tasted a Chianti Reserve since we’re in the Chianti region, plus a Brunello di Montalcino and a lovely Vernaccia Santa Chiara.

And while we were there, the skies opened up and poured. We had thunder, some small hail, and just a great downpour while we were sitting in the tasting room with floor-to-ceiling windows. Romantic! By the time we walked back to the bus, the rain had stopped and it was about 20 degrees cooler. My power to control the weather never ceases to amaze me.

I’m packing tonight because we’re leaving in the morning for Venice!

Today was just your average Sunday. Easter Sunday. In Florence, Italy.

I visited Florence today with, oh, maybe 10 million of my closest friends. They were there to celebrate Easter. It was quite an experience.

First, I have to talk about the weather a little bit. I haven’t mentioned lately that I am the Weather Fairy. But this power has come in very handy on this trip. The past two days have started out rainy, with the forecast calling for a very good chance for rain all day. Both days it was raining when we boarded the bus at the villa. Today it rained steadily all the way to Florence – about an hour’s drive. When we got out of the bus, viola! No rain. Thank you, Weather Fairy.

Not only did it NOT rain today, it got very warm and sunny. But at one point in the early afternoon a huge black cloud loomed over the city, and I thought for sure my powers were not strong enough to hold off what looked to be an impending storm. But not a drop. I am really good.

I have been to Florence before, but it was such a brief and superficial visit, I barely saw the city. In fact, I thought I’d seen Michelangelo’s David, but I had only seen the reproduction. And I had not seen the famous duomo. This visit was much more thorough. We started at the Galleria dell’Academia, home of the actual David and other Michelangelo sculptures. David is a really incredible work of art, and to see him in his proper place and to be able to spend a nice amount of time gazing all around his perfect 17-foot body…well, I am humbled.

Beyond the Michelangelo sculptures, the gallery wasn’t very interesting. We paid our respects and went out into the street to head for the famous Florence duomo…only to find the streets blocked off for the traditional Easter celebration in which a paper dove is lit on fire and it glides down a rope to a cart filled with fireworks, which explode in a frenzy of happiness and joy. We saw very little of this, unfortunately, because by the time we got down to the square we were on the wrong side of the duomo and could only see the occasional spark…and lots of smoke. But we heard the whole thing, and being in a crowd like that can only be compared to Times Square on New Year’s Eve. Nuts-o.

Following the fireworks came a very interesting parade. I had a good look at the first part but then, since I am short, I missed most of the second part, which featured flag throwers. I could see the flags being thrown into the air, but I couldn’t actually see the throwers. Nevertheless, it was fun.

After the parade we continued to walk through the crowds to the Palazzo Vecchio with its fountains and sculptures – including the false David that I had seen before. It was good to see him again, however, since we were not allowed to take pictures of him in the art museum; I am not ashamed to say that I photographed him with a telephoto lens in all his anatomically correct glory.

Our group broke up at this point – it was about noon – so we could explore and dine on our own. I spent most of my time taking pictures and loving, loving, loving Florence. I went to the Ponte Vecchio bridge, which is totally crazy with gold jewelry shops and people, but cool for the view. I walked up and down the streets and took pictures of the people and the shop windows and the bicycles. I found my first sugar waffle on this trip. (Last time I was in Italy I discovered these delicacies in Rome, but I didn’t see them there this time. Here, however, I smelled them before I saw them. Man, they taste good.) I did a little, teensie bit of shopping, walked back to the duomo for photographs, drank a coffee on a rooftop café overlooking the center of the city…wow, it was just a spectacular day.

After our group met and walked to the bus, we drove to a parking and garden area overlooking the city for a spectacular view and a group photo.

Now we’re back at the villa, which looks prettier every time we come “home,” and I am enjoying the cheese and olives I bought in Perugia, drinking a glass of wine…you know, the usual.

I love Siena! Our villa is in the countryside near Siena — about a half-hour ride by bus. It’s a typically hilly Tuscan city but it has the most amazing square: the Piazza del Campo. When I walked around the corner and caught the first sight of it, I said out loud, “We have a winner!” I think it might be even better than St. Mark’s Square in Venice, but it’s been awhile since I saw that one, so I guess we’ll see.

So the square is amazing and the duomo is beautiful and the shopping is great and there are dozens of tiny alleyways — all scenic and wonderful. We toured the duomo and learned about the city’s history. The city is divided into 17 neighborhoods, each with their own colors and name — and when you’re born into the neighborhood you’re an owl or a giraffe or a unicorn for life. Some neighborhoods dislike other neighborhoods, so if you meet and fall in love with the wrong person, it’s a real Romeo and Juliet scene. They take this very seriously. I love this!

I also love that they do a horse race twice a year in the Piazza del Campo, with each neighborhood sponsoring a horse and rider. It’s a big deal. We saw a video, and I loved it. I probably wouldn’t love being there for real, because the crowd would kill me off. Too crowded! But it seems like a lot of fun.

Anyway, we toured the duomo and then I walked to a nearby art museum in which I had to give up my driver’s license and stash all my belongings in a little locker. I was pretty much the only visitor in the whole museum. It was nice, but small. I especially liked the view of the city from second floor (the view of the actual city, not the historic square — see at left) and the drawings that had apparently been made as sketches for huge murals. Those were beautiful.

After the museum, I shopped. And then I had a gelato that has to be the best gelato in all of Italy. And then I shopped some more. I will not say what I purchased, but just that I definitely boosted the economy of Siena.

While we were waiting for the group to gather, we amused ourselves by watching the pigeons getting a drink from the mouth of a wolf — part of a fountain in the piazza. I am easily entertained.

And now we’re back at the beautiful Villa Vecchi and I have Internet — a happy moment!

Today was a day with lots of variety. We left our little medieval town of Todi and traveled through Umbria into Tuscany. On the way, we stopped in the town of Deruta, which is considered to be the center for ceramics in Umbria. We went to the Maioliche Binaglia ceramics shop and watched a demonstration of the traditional art of ceramics decoration. The shop is owned by two sisters, both trained ceramics artists. All of the artwork in their shop is handmade by them. We watched as they transformed a small white vase into a beautiful work of art with flowers and birds and other traditional decorations.

Afterwards we had time to shop, and I was so tempted to buy things but didn’t because of the cost, the weight in my suitcase, and my fear that the ceramics wouldn’t make it back to the States in one piece.

After leaving Deruta, we traveled to Perugia, which is a really interesting place. It’s known for its chocolate and also for its large university. The city is quite large and modern on its lower levels. To get to the older (and more interesting) part of the city, there’s an excellent public transportation called the MiniMetro. Our guide says it looks like an egg. Really it’s just a small car (sort of like a cable car or subway car) on a track that whisks you up and up and up. I felt like I was in the future. At the top, the city did not disappoint. It had a lot of very old buildings and the sort of archways and alleys we’ve grown to expect in these ancient cities. But it’s also got high-end shopping and, at least today, a gazillion sidewalk vendors.

They were selling the most incredible cheeses and olives (and meat, if you like that sort of thing), breads, pastries, liquor, sweets, you name it. (They also had a lot of non-food vendors.) I bought a huge pretzel and a chunk of really delicious cheese from a vendor that seemed to be specializing in German foods. I found a table and a beer and had a wonderful lunch. Afterwards, I walked around and bought some chocolate and some olives for later on.

The best part of the day was driving into Tuscany (Cypress trees! Olive trees! Rolling hills!)and to our wonderful, amazing hotel called the Villa Lecchi. It overlooks the Chianti region and was originally built in the 1500s. It was modified in the 1800s but then fell into disrepair and was purchased in 1994 by the family who currently runs it. What a great story – the whole family is involved in the operation. Laura is the manager; her husband is the pastry chef and also tends to the gardens and occasionally hunts wild boar. Laura’s mother (called just Momma) is also a chef and was seen today gathering eggs from chickens they have on the property, plus she had an apron filled with fresh greens. Laura’s two sons do the heavy lifting around the place, including lugging our bags up the many, many flights of stairs because there is no elevator. Pappa Guiseppe (I’m probably spelling this wrong) had the original idea to buy the property and fix it up. We’re all amazed at how much work it must have been, based on the photos of what it looked like in the early 1990s with no roof and crumbling floors. Now they have wireless Internet, spiffy bathrooms, an amazing restaurant, and possibly the most beautiful view in all of Italy, as you can see.

Today we visited Assisi and I learned that it’s much more than the city of St. Francis. The San Francesco Basilica is obviously a huge attraction here, as is the Basilica Di Santa Chiara (St. Clare). Both churches are lovely and contain frescoes and statues, and they feature Gothic architecture from the 1200s.

It’s a hilly city, not so different from the other towns we’ve visited in this region (Orvieto, Todi). I couldn’t find this in the literature, but I’m pretty sure Assisi is known as the Italian city that has the highest gelato cafes per capita. Literally, they are next to each other all up and down the streets. Also, there are bakeries like I haven’t seen since I’ve been to Italy. I took pictures of the windows and went into a few of them. They are totally overwhelming. I managed to choose just one thing: a pistachio cannoli. I really wanted a bite of everything.

In one shop that featured Italian meats, cheeses, pastas, and other Italian specialties, I was able to taste some of the olive oil and spreads that were being sold. The proprietor told me (in English, with a strong Italian accent) that his shop was featured in Rick Steves’ book. He then had me taste some eight-year-old balsamic vinegar, and I had to buy some. One drop in a puddle of olive oil should make for some mighty yummy dipping when I get home.

I did some shopping in Assisi – the stores were great – but I won’t say what I got because some things might end up being gifts.

We’re back in Todi for one more night. Tomorrow we leave Umbria for Tuscany.