The following day we had a bit of time to explore before catching a train to Avigliana, where we would visit our friend Micaela who lives in Giaveno. We met Micaela when she lived with Shelley, our neighbor in Boulder. Micaela stayed in Boulder for several months at a time, studying structural integration, better known as Rolfing. She and Shelley became dear friends and so Micaela returns often to visit Boulder and a few years ago, Shelley lived with Micaela in Giaveno.

In the morning, we set out to find the open-air market in Porta Palazzo. We walked for over a half hour, but it was not what we were expecting. The fruit and vegetables looked like what you would find in a supermarket and upon tasting the cherry tomatoes, they had less flavor than any I had ever tried. There may have been a few stands that had farm fresh produce, but the vast majority sadly looked like the fruits of agribusiness. So disappointing! We decided to duck into the Egyptian Museum even though we knew we did not have enough time to do it justice. With an audio tour and some skipping around, we got a good education in the evolution of the various ways the ancient Egyptians buried themselves, in preparation for eternal life. We marveled at the craftsmanship of the statues and the sarcophagus. Emily says it brought her back to 5^th grade and how much she had learned about this period.

We had very little time before our appointed train and it was the first time we had to buy tickets at the station for a regional train, rather than in advance, on-line, like we do for a long distance journey. Porta Nuovo is a big station, so it was a bit unnerving when I found no manned ticket booth (like we did in the Paris metro), only a customer service center with a ticket dispenser serving a growing crowd of customers with problems. I knew my turn would never come up in time. To add to the worry, Mark and Emily had made a stop at our apartment for water and snacks, planning to meet me in” an obvious place” in the station. So, I braved the Trentitalia auto ticket machines, not knowing much Italian or the train line for Avigliana. But the “English” icon was easy to find and the requirement was to enter the destination, not the line, so it was all very user friendly, after going on my third machine to find the right screen. The next step was to figure out which track and how to “stamp” our ticket before boarding, which I had read is a requirement in Italy. The Italian woman stationed at a nearby Kiosk with a cigarette poised in her mouth was gruff, but she did come out from behind her Kiosk to check the departure tables on the wall and point to the track and the machine for stamping. At this point, Mark and Emily magically appeared behind me. Watching what other passengers did, we followed suit and even helped the young woman who came after us, who was equally perplexed by the stamping machine. Mission accomplished, and with a few minutes to spare, we boarded the regional train to Avigliana.

Micaela was waiting with her Fiat Panda at the station, and whisked us off through the picturesque town of Avigliana in sight of a crumbling castle on a hill, along winding roads, and two lakes to her lovely town of Giaveno. Her house is two story and long, with a balcony and iron rail that spans the garden side of the second floor, similar to what we commonly associate with architecture in New Orleans. The color of the building was sunshine yellow. The front of the house was right on the street, but the back opened up to a large patio and beyond, an orchard of fruit trees, vegetable garden and chickens. The interior was charming, including an open entry (with lots of slippers for visitors) and Miky’s massage room with bath on the main floor, her bedroom, living area and kitchen on the second floor, and a recently added 3^rd floor that housed her yoga studio, where 20 people were coming later that evening for class, but for now was home to her two cats. And with us wherever we went was Mana, Miky’s German Shepard looking companion, who was very vocal and communicative with us all.

Miky served us a lovely lunch of cheese and salad before taking us to a spot nearby where she takes her daily walk with Mana: a side road that leads to private land that is nevertheless open to local hiking. Wooded, with lots of chestnut trees, and following a rocky river, the path was mostly flat but there were other paths in the area that were longer and scaled the hill. It reminded me of the Catskills or elsewhere in New England. We passed a hut in the woods, rented by the Church, where they perform mass occasionally. We also passed a spigot spewing fresh water, from which we filled our water bottles. Mana was entertained with a stick thrown in the pools of water in the river. It was a very nourishing experience and we could see why this area drew Miky as her daily ritual. Miky told us of her dream to find a cabin in the woods where she can live and perhaps serve visitors coffee and good food as they use her place for forays into the nearby woods. She has not found her spot yet and she is also waiting for a partner to share it with, but I sense that when we return to visit Miky, it will be to her cabin in the woods.

After a drive to visit an old abbey on the hill and winding back down to Avigliana for our daily gelato, we caught the train back to Torino, in time for a pizza dinner on an old square and then to bed.

A late check out the following day, thanks our gracious host, the lovely Antonella, we had some time to pack and explore prior to catching our 13:20 train to Firenze. Setting out with the goal of finding breakfast, changing dollars into euros and seeing the river, we accomplished none of the above. Our plan was to walk the Via Po to Vittorio Square fronting the river, but Via Po was a tourist trap so we lost time and interest in seeing the river. We went into several banks but the answer was the either we don’t have dollars, or they can only change money for customers. And breakfast turned into a late lunch at Eataly, reportedly the birthplace of slow food. Although the salad of wild rice with vegetables was welcome, it all felt a bit too contrived, catering to tourists. We came back to the apartment to grab our bags, noting on the way to the train station that the shop that Shelley had suggested we find, was not in the direction we had looked for it, but literally two doors down on our very street, but in the other direction.