The calm between the stages

While I wish there was epic news to report, the two weeks between the Puglia and Piemonte stages (pronounced in the french way, just so you can all sound affected) were quiet ones.  Sleep.  Read.  Ride my bike.  Write papers.  Buy a fan to combat the excessive heat of Bra.  Spend two hours in Big Store (Northern Italy's version of Walmart) just to be in air-conditioned comfort.  Get the news that our move-in date has been pushed to July 15th.  Write more papers.  Read more.  Sleep less. 

The only events of note were a lazy friday afternoon lunch at Osteria Bocca Buono, a last minute mad dash to Alba and Asti, and the ensuing Pigluck.

First things first.  One more paper and power-point presentation down, we were given a free afternoon.  Several of us girls decided to check out Osteria Bocca Buono, one of the "food spaces" presented during our Food Anthropology projects.  We settled in on the breezy terrace for the three course special, interrupted only by a local winemaker who stopped by our table, bringing us a bottle of his nebbiolo to try.  From the frittata "tacos" piled with fresh vegetables, to the pomodoro pasta with fresh cheese and finishing with a beautiful layered cream and fruit parfait, it was a relaxing end to a busy week.

After another paper & exam-filled week, Emily W and I hopped a train to Alba.  Joined by Rae, we spent a couple of hours wandering the massive Saturday morning market, buying apricots, tasting wine and staying in as much shade as possible. 

Next up was Asti.  Now, we had big intentions of wandering around and comparing Moscato.  Except the air-conditioning wasn't working on the bus.  Then we had "that guy" sit down next to us on the bus.  You know, the guy who reeks of B.O, invades your personal space, tells you random stories about his life interupting your conversations, tries to find out your home address and phone number, and doesn't get the hint.  We finally just got blunt.  By the time we oozed out onto the streets of Asti, we were in that apathetic state of dehydration, hunger and indecisiveness.  Finding the Tourist Information was no help either, as the woman there refused to give us restaurant recommendations claiming she was offering a public service and couldn't show preference to a restaurant. 

We used the map to find the nearest enoteca, burrowed our way to the back of the wine cellar, and settled in for a leisurely lunch of mussels, salad and a heavenly salsicca and barolo risotto.  Two hours later, we emerged into the even brighter sunlight feeling energized enough to sprint for the bus.  This time around, we had "the guy".  The super sweet guy who wants to practice his English, only joins us when invited, and recommends perfect beach towns and day trips. 

We arrived in Bra just in time to catch Pigluck.  Now, gastronomes beware - pigluck is a pork fiesta supplemented by potluck items.  It began the night before with Luca, Wendy and Crystal frantically preparing marinades for pork belly, ribs and various other cuts.  It culminated in the biggest pork gorge-fest on our former roommate's new terrace which overlooks the entire valley.  The wind came up, cooling everyone down, and twenty of us sprawled all over the cobblestones with heaping plates and glasses of wine.  Not a bad way to spend a Saturday.