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Published: December 22nd 2017
The snow of Sunday had turned to heavy rain. We walked swiftly to the metro to keep dry and set sail for Bergamo. Napoleon would have had no bother flooding the Arena Civica today - it was that wet. We were getting to be regulars at Porto Garibaldi railway station and headed upstairs to the main ticket office area, where we knew there were a vast array of train ticket machines to choose from. We bought our single tickets to Bergamo for 5.50 Euros. Despite the slight delay in venturing to the upper area of the station to get the tickets, we still managed to catch the regional express. The train was delayed marginally and the platform inexplicably changed about 2 minutes before departure. The passengers rapidly relocated to avoid disappointment - queue lots of similar thoughts about trudging round Munich railway station in pursuit of a train to Nuremburg. The rain continued outside the city, but out in the sticks the white stuff had laid. The rural fields were covered in snow. The Milan – Verona autostrada which runs parallel to the train line was running freely and was very quiet compared to a UK motorway.
Bergamo
La Citta Alta
Piazza Vecchiais known as the City of the Thousand – the number of so called volunteers who followed Garibaldi in his 1861 quest to unify the Italian states. I set about reading the detail, although in varying sources the “thousand” transpired to be actually “one thousand and eighty nine”. I then read that Bergamo only contributed 180 of the group. I have no idea what the correct story is, but why let that stand in the way of a good title. The city is split into 2 distinct sections – the Old City on the hill - La Citta Alta - and the lower City close to the railway line - La Citta Bassa. The old City was up there somewhere, but the clouds were so low it remained largely out of sight. I note out of interest that apparently the winters are usually drier than the summers in Bergamo. We were clearly unlucky then, as that certainly wasn’t our experience. The rain continued to pour down. We surveyed the snow covered square in front of the railway station. It was probably 2-3 inches deep and was turning into wet slush with the rain. I am all for a good walk,
but public transport was going to be the order of the day. We ventured across the road in search of a bus ticket. It was located at the newsagents in the bus station – 3.5 Euros for an all-day ticket. “Bus 1” we were helpfully advised. Fortunately, the lady at the newsagent spoke more English than we spoke Italian. A bus 1A rolled up very soon afterwards, which actually went all the way up the hill to the old City. The bus passed the funicular railway terminus, but we didn’t know that at the time and could see it out of the steamed windows of our Bergamo bus. The Old City was a fair climb into the clouds and on a good day, a decent view would have unfolded beneath us. We progressed inside the thick stone walls and were deposited at the terminal. The buses were either not running to schedule or are very frequent. A 2
nd bus followed us all the way.
We headed inside a further section of the old Venetian walls into the Piazza della Cittadella. The local museum of Pots and Pans was under renovation – closed for the winter. It was
almost dark in the narrow streets within the Old City. We walked down the Via Bartolomeo Colleoni and followed it down towards the Plazza Vecchia. The old square was quite impressive, even in the gloom of late morning. This was the centre of the original Ventian city and is crowned by the Duomo di Bergamo. The Man in the Middles pronounced it one of the finer religious buildings he had been in and certainly the best on the trip so far. There were few tourists around, so we were free to wander in peace. The city slowly descends towards the descent point of the Funicular Railway. The other forms of transport popular in Italy – the scooter – were generally parked up waiting for the thaw. The Funicular is one of two built to connect the upper and lower parts of the city. The 1887 carriages are long gone. In 1917 both the machines and the stations underwent a modernization. The upper station had a waiting room built, along with a panoramic veranda where you can have a coffee or a drink while staring at the fantastic view over the whole city. The line drops 85 metres with a maximum
gradient of 52%.
The tourist activity out of the way, we set off in search of the football ground. It had been in the original plan to go to a game here. The local Serie C club use it as well as their illustrious Serie A neighbours, Atalanta. Alas, the Albinoleffe Calcio fixture was swapped to Friday night. I experimented with the Italian train timetables and unbelievably figured it was impossible to get back to the relatively nearby Milan later than a 2300 hours departure. The prospect of a night out stranded on a railway station put paid to that plan - those days are long gone. The bus dropped us fairly close to the Athleti Azzurid’Italia Stadium. The graffiti strewn exterior did not give the impression that a Serie A club could actually use this facility. The main entrance didn’t look as though it had seen any changes since the 1930s. The ticket offices were best described as basic – a row of windows at either end of the stadium. UEFA were obviously in agreement with the assessment, having not allowed Atalanta to use the venue for their home games in the 2017 / 2018 Europa
League. Atalanta bought the stadium for something like 8 million Euros in 2015 and have allegedly spent a further 2 million Euros on redevelopments. Pay a visit - see if you can see where the money went. The Awesome Park gang poached a certain Dutch midfielder for vast money in advance of their recent Premier League campaign to lead their charge to defensive bores. I wonder what he thought when he landed in Teesside? He might not have thought it scenic, but at least the stadium looks like a modern, progressive football club compared to what lay before us? The said Dutchman ironically turned his ship round and sailed straight back to Bergamo after relegation. We completed an almost full circumnavigation of the stadium – just in case we had missed anything. We hadn’t. We caught a bus back to town.
The Old City on the hill had an extensive number of retail outlets, but the main brands were all to be found in the lower City area. A sad looking version of a Christmas Market was lined up along the Piazzo Giacomo Matteotti. A number of stall holders huddled for warmth under their shelters, looking out
in vain for any break in the weather that might lead to an increase in potential shoppers. A statue of Vittorio Emanuele II looked down on the sad state of affairs. We headed further into the shopping area, aimlessly wandering in no particular direction in pursuit of a snack and a coffee. We had decided at this point that it was probably too early to hit a Captain Corelli, even assuming a price competitive venue was located. It was just after lunchtime, but the choices were a bit limited. Italians always seem to be in a rush. The typical café bar utilised by most forms nothing more than a bit of counter space and a few extra spaces to loiter. No seats. There is a price differential between sitting and enjoying and the more functional, drink and leave approach. Coffee is typically quite cheap. The average cappuccino is far less than a Costa or Starbucks price. A lot of Italians avoid the longer coffee drinks until later in the day. A swift expresso and they are off. We ended up a more spacious place. The cappuccino was a mere 1.40 Euros. The sandwich was substantially more. I have to say
though it was very nice. We trudged back to the railway station through the continued rain.
Once back in Milan, we hit the Captain Corelli bar for a slightly more extensive session. As honoured customers by now, free snacks were the order of the day. It was a quiet night and we there was value in keeping us in situ to generate extra customers. One wandered in, in search of a free meal. He struggled with the door, as indeed did many Italians. The closing of doors is skill seemingly lacking. The final insult to the owners was to put his foot on a seat to tie his shoelace. He was unceremoniously dispatched into the cold. We had a swift 4 and retreated to the family restaurant across the way ….. or we would have done, had it been open. We took the expensive option round the corner. We were seated and offered a free glass of prosecco. You could tell this was not our normal choice of venue.
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Rainyb
Lorraine Brecht
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