Sunshine, strikes, and contemplating my next move
The sun is shining brilliantly over Modena today, a welcome change after several days of cloudy skies. I'm sitting at a small café near my hotel, sipping an espresso that's surprisingly good (though still not quite like... well, you know). The temperature gauge reads 10°C, which feels almost warm compared to the chilly days we've had lately.
It's day 92 of this journey. I've been in Modena for four days now, and I'm starting to feel that familiar itch. My train ticket for tomorrow is already booked, and while part of me feels ready for something new, another part wishes I could linger here a bit longer. There's something about the rhythm of life in this small Italian city that resonates with me.
This morning I woke up early – a habit I can't seem to break – and went for a walk through Modena's historic center. The streets were quiet, just a few locals heading to work and shopkeepers preparing for the day. I found myself back at the Duomo, watching as the morning light played across its marble façade. The piazza was nearly empty, allowing me to appreciate the architecture without the usual crowds.
Afterward, I wandered through some side streets I hadn't explored yet, discovering a small bookshop with a surprisingly good English section. I picked up a book about Italian food traditions – something to read on tomorrow's train journey.
I've just learned about a nationwide strike planned for tomorrow night through Friday, affecting trains and other transportation. My ticket is for tomorrow morning, so I should be fine, but it's made me think about how fortunate my timing is. Had I planned to leave on Friday, I'd be scrambling to rearrange everything.
There's also a wind warning in effect for the region, though the day seems perfectly calm at the moment. The weather app on my phone shows yellow warnings through Friday. I've learned to take these Italian weather warnings seriously after getting caught in an unexpected downpour in Bologna last week.
As I sit here planning my next move, I'm reflecting on what I've experienced in Modena. The balsamic vinegar tour at Acetaia Giusti was definitely a highlight – I still can't get over how the 25-year aged vinegar transformed a simple piece of Parmigiano Reggiano into something transcendent. The Enzo Ferrari Museum was fascinating too, especially having it almost entirely to myself as the first visitor of the day.
I've been going through photos from the past few days, organizing them into folders (a small habit that helps me feel like I'm keeping things in order amidst all this movement). The images of those wooden barrels at the acetaia, stacked in diminishing sizes, seem like a fitting metaphor for how experiences distill over time.
Tomorrow I'll be moving on, continuing this journey that sometimes feels both endless and too short all at once. Four hundred and eight days remain – still so much time, yet I know it will pass quickly. Each city leaves its mark, adding another layer to this experience that I'm still trying to fully comprehend.
The sun feels warm on my face as I finish my coffee. I think I'll spend the afternoon revisiting the Mercato Albinelli for one last time, perhaps buy some small food gifts to take with me. Then maybe dinner at that trattoria near Piazza Grande where I had that incredible tortellini in brodo two days ago.
I arrive at these moments of transition with mixed feelings – excitement for what's next, a touch of sadness for what I'm leaving behind. Ninety-two days in, I'm starting to understand that this is the rhythm of long-term travel – a constant cycle of arrival and departure, of familiarity and newness.
The café owner just brought me a small biscotti with my second espresso, a gesture I've come to appreciate about Italy. Small kindnesses that make you feel welcome, even when you're just passing through.
408 days to go. The journey continues tomorrow.