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| Villa Contarini |
So here is the problem with Sundays and Mondays on the Via: the streets tend to roll up in the smaller towns and villages on those days. Sunday and Monday are typically days off for the Italian hospitality industry. This is problematic for the hungry Via walker who has hiked many kilometers and, having reached the end of an arduous day, is desperate for sustenance.
That was our position last night. We had made it to a small cottage on a farm in Ospitale di Brenta, but of course, what was going to be open on Monday? Our farmer-landlord was optimistic: “There’s a fabulous Trattoria, only 200 meters up the road. They serve wonderful home-cooked meals. You will love it.”
Great! Sign us up! Book a table!
He paused, and then, “This is Saturday. They will probably be serving fish tonight.”
Wait a minute. I know time slows down on the farm, but in fact it was Monday. When 7:30 rolled around, and we hiked up to the Trattoria, an elderly couple sat flanked by empty tables on their veranda.
“Chiuso,” called the woman.
“Closed,” echoed the man.
We were out of luck. But Mary had an idea: there was a bar next to the train station. It had terrible reviews, but Google claimed it was open. Any port in the proverbial deluge.
The bar was open. It was owned by a Chinese couple, whose Italian was (shockingly) worse than mine. Nevertheless, they offered dry bread sandwiches (a length of bread with two thin slices of prosciutto wedged into the cut) and Mary’s favorite: toast (a grilled cheese sandwich consisting of melted cheese and bread).
A bag of potato chips, a bottle of wine, and we had a very dubious meal.
We must find a better way of securing nourishment on Sundays and Mondays.
Dawn broke, and we were off to finish the trip to Piazzola. Still needing sustenance, we decided to proceed south to another town, Grantorto, hoping that we might find an open bar for breakfast. As we walked into this agricultural community, its sign announced that it was a “City of Hope.”
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| City of Hope |
We both hoped for food. In this we were not disappointed. After a brief repast, we made our way back to the Via and continued to walk beside the Brenta river.
It was a long, winding route. I did not take many pictures. I simply trudged along in the hot sun, sweating and dreaming of cooked meals.
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| On the Path to Piazzola |
Ultimately we made it to town, found our lodging, and then went in search of food. We found a small restaurant in front of the Villa Contarini, where our palates received excellent treatment.
The Villa Contarini is an amazing example of a Venetian estate. Built by the Contarini family in the 1700s, the Villa has endured a cycle of use and neglect. It is said to be magnificent inside, the “Versailles of Italy.”
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| Villa Contarini |
That is why this would be a good point in the post to offer a lengthy description of our exploration of the Villa. Unfortunately, when we approached the ticket seller at the front of the Villa, he informed us that we could only visit the Villa on a guided tour. The next tour didn’t leave for ninety minutes. Standing in the marble entryway, our clothes still soaked with perspiration from the day’s walk, Mary and I had one of those beautiful moments of complete, harmonious agreement. “No way,” we both thought.
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| The Villa |
Then we left. I am certain the Villa is beautiful, well worth the tour, and would be the highlight of our trip. But sometimes, as one stands reeking of sweat and exhausted from the road, enough is enough.
And it was.
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| Today's Selfie |
Today's Distance: 17.9
Total Distance: 337
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