It’s true, you know. Saint Nicholas’s final resting place is in the local basilica. So if a kid ever asks me again if I believe in Santa Claus, I can answer, “Yes, I do. But he’s dead now.” Then I can show him a photo of his grave. I am sure the kid will thank me in the long run for telling the truth!
I arrived after a one hour bus ride and set off looking for a hotel. The Moderna was recommended as reasonably priced for a lone traveler, but I was unhappy to learn that there was only one room left at the price of €70.
“€70!” I said. “Is there any place cheaper?” The man laughed and said, “You can try beyond the city center. This area will be hard.”
I had thought that traveling in mid-September would have allowed me to escape the tourist rush. I asked him “Is there a special event going on?”
“Si, the Exhibition.” He answered, as if I should have known that already.
“Exhibition!” My ears perked. I had attended Expo2000, the Universal Exhibition in Hannover, Germany and greatly enjoyed the experience. “Can you tell me more?”
He stared me incredulously. “You did not know about the exhibition?” He cleared his throat and put himself into travel guide mode. “Every year, there is an exhibition. It is the largest one of its kind in Italy, and larger than many in Europe. Many countries come and exhibit. You can eat their foods. It is good. You should go.” That was all he had to say. I took the room and half an hour later, entered the fairgrounds.
The expo was good sized, with about a third dedicated to random countries. India had the largest booth while Peru and Columbia were close behind. France actually had its own building full of chocolate, candies and crepes. The place was packed. About a third of the exhibit was for interior design. It was reminiscent of walking through IKEA. Countless numbers of bedrooms, kitchens and dining room sets were displayed with virtually all combinations of colors. The most visually stunning booth was the company selling staircases. Half a dozen spiral staircases that led to nowhere stood in the center of the exhibition floor.
The rest of the exhibition was for selling everything else. You could watch demonstrations of fruit slicers, talk to the Roomba salesman, or buy self-cleaning pans. There were electronic gadgets and washing machines and blenders and antiques. There was a large emphasis on meat slicers and industrial sized automatic pasta makers. Leave it up to the Italians to value their Salami and Linguini.
By this point, I felt it necessary to purchase something Italian. I had been in Italy for two whole days and all I had to show for it was a Babushka doll from the Russian booth. In the agriculture building, sausage, prosciutto, wine and cheese filled the room. After browsing the stalls, I decided that the best thing to buy was olive oil, especially given the number of olive trees I saw during the bus ride from Taranto.
I walked up to a guy standing in front of a row of bottles and told him that I was interested in buying one.
“Ah, non, signore, we are not selling here. We can offer you a tasting of the region’s best olive oil.” I had never heard of an olive oil tasting before, so I went for it. He handed me a shot glass of olive oil and began his personalized lecture. Ten cups later, he was still going strong on his “light” vs “filtered” vs “produced by a 2000 year old tradition”. He found many words to describe the differences in the species of olives from Lecce to Brindisi. Never once did he use the words “extra” and “virgin”, the only two words I associate with olive oil. Truth be told, I could smell the difference with my nose, see the difference in swirling the cup and taste the difference as I rolled it over my tongue. But after 15 cups, I felt sick. Mercifully, he ended his talk.
Taking my newfound knowledge in olive oil, I walked to the closest booth that sold the oils. “I’ll take that one!” I said, pointing to the first one I saw. I still don’t know if it’s best suited for salads or to be cooked with meats.
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