retiredmartin

June 2024. Bergamo.

From San Marino we took the bus back to Rimini (fortified by the New Radicals “You Get What You Give”),

the fast train to Milan (fortified by Tiramisu wafers),

and then the slow local train to Bergamo, an hour spent worrying I should have exchanged my 6 euro on-line ticket for a paper one.

I do seem to worry about stuff I never would have 20 years ago, before on-line booking, when we’d routinely tip up in Italian cities like Bergamo and Genoa with two toddlers and no room booked. Now we had an unstaffed hotel room reserved and would be sent the code needed to get on the Tuesday. But the code didn’t arrive till we were on the train from Rimini despite umpteen chasing messages. I needed those Tiramisu biscuits to calm me down.

At least Bergamo Inn 21 turned out to spectacularly good,

gorgeously located,

with espresso machine, chocolates and all,

and ideally situated for a tame assault on the city’s craft scene while Mrs RM rested.

Pivo’s Untappd check-ins had just recorded this unlikely traveller from Driffield,

and a look at the bar suggested it may have been delivered by hand pump.

Quite a tough decision, then; imported cask or local breakfast stout from Hammer. Fortunately, the barman saw me looking for a pump clip.

“Too hot for hand pump !”. UK pubs could follow their lead.

On my return Mrs RM could somehow tell I’d had that 8.3% breakfast stout, and 10 minutes later we were on a pavement table at unflashy Bar Haiti ordering the “eeper“.

Like everything in Italy, the beer was high quality, but again it was the service that stood out.

Mrs RM insisted, insisted I tell you, on a half bottle of red from the Carrefour to finish the night.

The bottle cost £3, the bottle opener a quid more.

All night I had a nightmare about that £4 corkscrew being confiscated at the airport the next day...