Koobazaur's Domain

After France I moved on to Torino, where I experienced the first culture shock and had literally the best pizza of my life.

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Watching the City Wake Up

There is something uncanny arriving in a new place at 5am while everything still sleeps. Wandering in the dark cold I finally sat patiently at the only open Cafeteria. Milking my first Italian cappuccino and a cream pastry, I watched the waking Italians leisurely enter. They quickly drank their espressos standing up, caught up on a bit of the newspaper, and always wished each other buongiorno. What a serenely refreshing way to start one’s day, I admit.

I continued towards Piazza San Carlo. I stumbled to buy a simple water bottle in a language I did not speak. The famous plaza turned out quite empty, perhaps arriving before the peak of the day. I ventured north to Piazza Castello in front of Palazzo Madame, taking photos with Despicable Me’s and Mickey Mouse next to a thousand year old statue of an Italian general. The contrast could not be more jarring if I pointed it out in this sentence.

Equipped with a new tourist center’s map and withdrawal of my quickly depleting Euros, I pushed west via the commercialized Via Garibaldi towards Piazza Della Repubblica. Yes, Italians have a lot of Piazzas.

The busy intersection was cluttered with endless stalls, an Italian version of the same bazaar I saw in Poland and France. Less fragrant but louder, as merchants invited crowds to check their fresh fruits or vegetables and butchers filled entire corridors of the nearby hall. No part of an animal was spared here. Everything set next to several Asian markets and restaurants, perhaps the immigrant population of the neighborhood.

Coffee Culture, or how Italy wrecked my strategy

By now I developed a dichotomy of appreciating Italy’s famous black drink scene. The little cafes, called “Bars,” are almost excessively plentiful, sometimes two or three in a single block. The Italians start their day there and return once again in the evening when the hosts offer diverse buffets and snacks for the patrons.

Everyone is chatty, everyone mingles. It’s a wonderful way to start your day and relax after work. But…

… everything outside of these windows is a deadzone. Most cafes and restaurants close mid-day for a break, so you are bound by the cultural clock. Worse yet, finding a WiFi spot is a nightmare! Most hosts scoffed at me when I asked about internet, simply saying “No Wifi. Talking.” And when you do finally find a café with internet, it usually runs excruciatingly slow or the place closes down in an hour.

While I found the cultural aspect of the daily Cafeteria routine fascinating, it was frustrating being unable to do my work or look up direction when I needed to. Even the connection at my hostel was terrible. I have not found a Starbucks either, and saw only one McDonalds in two days and 20 miles of walking. The Italians, clearly, cherished their culture.

Night Life and the best Pizza of my life

After checking into my hostel mid-day and exhaustedly passing out, the night has taken over and the stomach was grumbling. Staying away from the city center, my options were limited, but I manage to find a lively little pub just down the street. It was time to try the infamous Italian pizza and, dear lord, I was not disappointed.

I will admit frankly – I have never been a fan of Pizza in the U.S. and this meal has just sealed the deal. The bread and cheese texture was perfectly balanced and each topping was actually individually distinguishable. I had to scale down on oregano or chili flakes as they embodied way more flavor than the American green wood-shavings could ever hope for. I do not think I can go back to Domino’s or Pizza Hut after this.

I went to the patio and met Gabriel and Elise, a friendly couple playing Munchkin. We chatted about their work teaching math and psychology as well as my travel plans. I wished I could staying longer to meet more locals. Alas, the night was getting short and it was time to depart.

And Now… favorite and hated aspects of Torino

YAY!

• The café culture of bold espressos in the morning and buffets in the evening, designed to foster community and socializing
• Everyone seemed chatty and friendly, be it in a cafes or the bazaars, always wishing each other a good day. Lesson my Poland has yet to learn.
• Spices and herbs are very potent, parmesan is made with real cheese, and sweets are not filled with sugar but instead taste like what their name implies
• Even cheap store-bought salad had a really rich olive oil and balsamic vinegar, and “boring” yogurt tasted so much sweeter and fuller than the American equivalent
• Condom Vending machines in the middle of the street. Yes Really.

BOO !

• The daily routine can be quite restrictive. Miss the morning espresso or lunch hour and you are out of luck.
• Finding a functional WiFi spot is a Sisyphean task many will look down on you for
• Streets change names whenever they feel like, often at intersections. This makes navigation really confusing and destroys the big benefit of grid-system layout
• I spent half an hour and 9 Euro at post office just to send 4 postcards. Seriously Italy, wtf

Retrologue: an Alien in Foreign Land

Italy was the first time in my travels I felt truly uncomfortable: confused by daily rituals, unable to speak or understand anything, lost in inconsistent street nomenclature, and criticized for merely asking for WiFi. And yet, foreign slowly turned familiar as I began to understand the social purpose of the cafeterias, how the transit operated, or where to buy the daily necessities. I was learning how to survive in a new world. After the first day, I wanted to leave; after the second, I wanted to stay longer.

As harsh as the first experience was, I was glad I have not done any prior research. It was intriguing to arrive before the city awoke and slowly discover the daily cycle. With keen interest in sociology and anthropology, it was enthralling to “live into” the culture rather than merely read about it in a tourist guide.

I am not sure if I could ever settle in Italy given my reliance on reliable internet and improvised schedule, but I can definitely appreciate the depth and devotion to their culture.

Read the Next Part: Middle of Nowhere, Switzerland