Glimmers - slow travel nourishment

Nov 15

Illustration of two people at a bakery counter. Heidi has curly brown hair, black hat, purple shirt, black skirt, red bag. H: "I'd like a plain croissant." Bakery woman: "Warmed?" H: "With jam. I'll pretend I'm still in France."

Illustration of a window counter looking out at trees and an Avenue Bread sign. On the counter is a tea cup and a plate with a croissant torn at one end with flakes scattered. A small cup of jam sits on the plate.

One of the treats and shocks of summer travel in Europe had been the super abundance of bread. I ate more bread in my first week abroad than I had eaten in the previous year.

The classic French breakfast, petit déjeuner, is a 12-inch length of baguette with butter, a croissant, jam, and a small hot coffee. As a no-longer coffee drinker, chocolat chaud was my go-to hot drink. And while I missed my usual eggy American breakfast, I adored petit déjeuner.

One day when Barney and I were in Turin, I’d filled up on breads with butter and jam to fuel a rigorous morning of cutting words from my memoir manuscript. Our day’s plan included a walk to the neighborhood market for bread and other fixings for hotel-room lunch while we watched the Tour de France. For dinner, we would go out for gelato.

Hold the cone in your hand. Appreciate the swirls and swoops of semi-soft gelato stroked into shape albeit precariously lopsided. People pass by on the sidewalk outside separated only by a thin pane of glass. — Our first night of gelato for dinner. Coffee flavor on the bottom, amaretto on top.

Really, a golf ball sized scoop seems more appropriate on this cone than stacking two baseball sized lumps of creamy goodness atop one another. This one is so lopsided, you hold the cone at a slight angle to keep the scoops upright. — Next to last gelato for dinner. Chantilly on top and coffee on bottom. Moments after taking this photo, the chantilly slid off and landed with a plop on the counter. I scooped it up and put it back on my cone and as I looked for a napkin to clean the mess on the counter, the chantilly slid off again and landed on the floor. Sad. But all was well. They gave me a cup of chantilly. Happy.

Part of me chafed. We were in Italy. We should do something more Italian. I was going to be a fat-bellied cow by the time we returned from our trip if I ate bread all day and gelato for dinner.

Part of me loved this plan. This was slow travel – scaling back to the moment and exploring on foot; being in a place and appreciating the little things.

When we stepped into the blast of heat outside, Barney pointed to the windowsill of the neighboring building. “Dinky, look!”

A cactus held up eleven pale pink blossoms as if it were an elaborate tropical drink. I watched a bee swim in the stamens of a flower. It was magical. “Thank you for pointing that out,” I said, charmed.

“I thought you would dig it.” Barney’s whole face smiled.

The barrel-bodied green cactus with stripes of spines holds four pale pink flower umbrellas up from the top of its head, two from the left where arms would be, two from the right where arms would be, one at the right shoulder, two at the right hip.

We walked the long way back to the hotel from the market, sweating, and using the sidewalks on the shady side of the street whenever possible. Ahead, a moist spot on the sidewalk caught my attention. I stopped and Barney kept walking.

“B, look! A glimmer!” That morning, I’d seen an Instagram post from writer, Natalie Serber, prompting followers to share glimmers – moments of joy and delight.

“What?” Barney had walked past the wet area.

“A heart-shaped puddle!” I took a photo.

“I didn’t even notice,” he said.

“That’s amazing!” I skipped to catch up.

This heart-shaped puddle on the sidewalk is more like a wet spot, about half the width of the sidewalk. It's crowned with shrubs growing on the landscaped side of the sidewalk.

Our Breadfest of Champions at the hotel was its own glimmer. The brown bread I’d selected was malty and pumpernickel-ish. I slathered a hunk with Dijon mustard and topped it with a wedge of local tomato.