A Night at the Opera

24 Days, 685 Miles

It’s going to be a hot one! I try to get up earlier and earlier, but it just keeps getting warmer. I gaze out across the pre-dawn landscape and admire that it’s already 77 F out, and the sun hasn’t even risen.

Even the sunflowers have had enough sun!

Reaching Florence, and it was positively boiling with tourists…I wasn’t going to be able to just pop in and see the statue of David.

So I just had to keep going as it ticked up to 99 F. I made a poor decision to try to take the walking path up the hill to the campsite at Friesole. It proved a steep, rocky, brambly mess!

But I did eventually arrive, at the monument for the First Flight, at least according to Italy.

Twilight, and finally the sun set. I had a lovely view looking down on the monuments of Florence.

Passo della Futa, the 3000-foot pass across the Apennines to Bologna was a lovely ride, mostly. I was thinking Sunday would be quiet, I was mistaken. This twisty piece of tarmac must be a favorite of Italian motoring enthusiasts, who took up the route with a gusto. At times it was four abreast, a Bianchi cyclist passing me, a Porsche coupe passing the Bianchi, and a Ducati super bike passing everyone. Is someone keeping track of the times?

Over the summer I watched the Tour de France from my couch, eating ice cream. They visited Bologna this year, climbing the iconic Portico, with hordes of Italian cycling fans lining the atrium. I thought to myself, I could make it up that! I took one look in person and changed my mind, oh that’s steep! So, I left the bicycle at the bottom and walked up atrium instead.

Pantani Pantani Pantani Marco; Always Pantani! The Pirate, Lance’s nemesis, still a hero of the Italian cycling crowd.

Riding along hour after hour I have too much time to contemplate strange art installations as well as inconsequential questions, of which I have many about Italy:

• I keep running across Plazas named in honor of JFK, not the notable plazas or even the secondary ones, just the obscure tertiary ones?
• For a supposedly laid back country, everyone drives like they are 15 minutes late to an interview. They are redlining their poor Fiats, giving it all she has to get it up to 49mph in a 30 mph zone. There doesn’t seem to be anywhere to rush off to, everything is closed at mid-day?
• One one side of the Apennines all cats, the other side so many dogs?

Along the Po River, it’s Flat, it’s Hot, it’s very Quiet.

I had the various villas to myself, I had to ring the doorbell 8-10 times before anyone would bother to open up the gates.

17 straight days of unrelenting sun and temperatures above 90F….

And then there was Opera Day! A stormy, tormentous mess. It rained when I was packing up my tent, then it took a short break, then it rained harder, then a lunch break at the bridge into Verona, then it really started raining.

Pushing my bike up to the castle campground, the water was pouring out of the castle walls, the water running down the stone path 2 inches deep, the Fiats didn’t slow down, so I kept getting splashed as they flew by.

I did have a grand view from the castle. It was a regular cyclone, parked right over the city, taking an hour off here and there and then strengthening all over again.

But the Italians are reluctant to cancel an Opera, so I watched the teamsters forklift the props into the arena, while smoking.

The larger props had to be lifted into the arena by crane, also while smoking.

At sundown, the weather turned mellow, it was all lovely. I had already been fooled four times this day when I thought the rain was done, so I wasn’t falling for it this time.

The opera crowd was smartly dressed, I however showed up looking like I was applying for job on a fishing boat, wearing all my rain gear.

Lacking any sound amplification, this was a production based on volume, as I realized when they were loading harp #4 into the pit orchestra (12 more harps would play on stage, plus 12 more buglers on stage, plus a whole extra brass orchestra on stage for the key parts). But the arias still had to be belted out by a single parson, carrying an entire Roman amphitheater. It was a sight to behold, and that was before they brought out the horses. It was madness, on a grand scale!

The conductor was in no rush to get through the Opera, taking various breaks to shake hands with the front row, taking a break when there was a short sprinkle of rain, taking 2 intermissions for long coffee breaks, and then there was the 40 minute break before act 4 where they had to rebuild a whole new set. And at 1am, halfway through act 4, it was inevitable really, the sky opened up in a torrent of rain, thunder and lightning. And that’s how the night ended, with me scrambling up the castle walkway, with water pouring from the castle walls, and water running down the path 2 inches deep. I don’t know if I can ever go to the Opera again; What, just 1 harp? No horses? Inside, really, but then there won’t be any thunderstorms during the final act?