Finding comfort in cold: a Monday in Modena
The clock reads 22:40, and I'm sitting in my hotel room with a small glass of the 12-year balsamic vinegar I purchased yesterday. Just a few drops on a piece of Parmigiano-Reggiano. The sweet-tart complexity is nothing like the watery stuff we put on salads back home. I've never tasted anything quite like it—rich, almost caramel-like, with a sharpness that cuts through at the end.
Today marks 90 days on the road. Ninety days. That number feels significant somehow. Almost a fifth of my journey complete. When I left Kristiansand, November seemed so far away, yet here I am, watching rain begin to fall outside my window in a small Italian city I hadn't even planned to visit until a week ago.
A productive morning
I woke early, determined to make the most of the day before the forecasted bad weather arrived. The yellow wind warning that's been in effect has been extended through tomorrow evening, with another one coming Wednesday. November in Emilia-Romagna isn't exactly beach weather.
After breakfast at the hotel, I headed to the Enzo Ferrari Museum, arriving just as they opened at 9:30. I was literally the first visitor of the day, which meant I had the entire yellow curved building to myself for about 20 minutes. The structure itself is architectural art—designed to mimic the hood of a sports car.
Inside, the exhibition space houses some of the most beautiful automobiles I've ever seen. I'm not particularly a car enthusiast, but even I could appreciate the artistry in these machines. The museum is divided into two parts: the modern pavilion with rotating exhibitions and Ferrari's restored birthplace and workshop.
What struck me most was learning about Ferrari's early life and how he transitioned from being a race driver to founding one of the world's most iconic brands. There's something powerful about standing in the actual room where someone was born, seeing the tools they used, understanding how their vision came to life.
Afternoon explorations and balsamic discoveries
After the museum, I walked back toward the city center, stopping for lunch at a small trattoria where I had tortellini in brodo—the perfect remedy for the increasingly chilly day. The temperature hasn't risen above 6°C all day, and now it's down to 4°C with rain starting.
Post-lunch, I managed to secure a spot on tomorrow morning's tour at Acetaia Giusti. After yesterday's shop visit, I'm eager to see the actual aging process for traditional balsamic vinegar. The woman at the shop explained that true traditional balsamic is aged in progressively smaller wooden barrels for a minimum of 12 years, with the best varieties aging for 25+ years. The tour will include their aging attic and a tasting session. I've already set an alarm—the tour begins at 10:00.
I spent the afternoon wandering through the historic center again, this time focusing on the areas I hadn't explored yesterday. The Palazzo Ducale, now home to the Military Academy, has an imposing façade that dominates its square. I couldn't enter (it's an active military institution), but even from outside, it's impressive.
Evening reflections
As the daylight faded around 4:30 PM, I found a café where I could sit with a coffee and watch the locals heading home from work. There's a rhythm to Italian life that feels both familiar and foreign. Everyone seems purposeful but unhurried. No one rushes through their coffee the way we often do elsewhere.
I'm starting to understand why Italy has pulled me in for longer than I planned. Each city has its own distinct character, yet they share this underlying current of appreciation for daily pleasures. Good food isn't reserved for special occasions. Beauty isn't cordoned off in museums. They're woven into everyday life.
Now, listening to the rain intensify outside my window, I'm grateful for this warm room and the chance to pause. Ninety days of travel has taught me to appreciate these quiet moments as much as the grand experiences. I've seen incredible things already—ancient Roman ruins, Renaissance masterpieces, Alpine vistas—but sometimes it's the simple pleasure of local cheese with decades-old vinegar in a hotel room that feels most profound.
Tomorrow brings the balsamic tour and more explorations, weather permitting. For now, I'll enjoy the rain's percussion against the window and be thankful for shelter, for time, for the luxury of this journey.
Days traveled: 90 Days remaining: 410 Current temperature in Modena: 4°C and falling