Our last day in Cogne Valley dawned bright and sunny again.  Because we would be traveling back to Milan in the afternoon to catch our flight out the next morning, we had to plan a less ambitious hike than the day before.  Luckily, there is a gondola in Cogne that could take us up to 2100 meters, so that we could start around the altitude we had reached before.  From there, there is a loop trail to take us even higher and still get us back soon enough for a timely departure.  We met up with Karen again for this hike and rode up the gondola as a group, along with two tourists from London.

We had not gone very far along the trail before we reached our first lookout point, a charming spot with picnic benches and diagrams identifying the surrounding peaks and valleys.  Our path was to take us up a ridge that parallels Valnontey, one of the tributary valleys that branches off from Cogne.  We could see the small community laid out in its base, with a swift mountain stream flowing past.  The stream carries meltwater from the Gran Paradiso glacier high above.  Gran Paradiso is the only 4000-m alp entirely within Italian territory (Monte Bianco being shared with France), and should have been visible to us if its peak were not consistently shrouded in mist during our hike.

It was during a break on the upward portion of our hike that a bit of magic happened.  Nick was resting on a rock a little bit ahead on the trail, and heard the sound of hoofs striking rock.  Turning his head, what did he see?  An ibex stood perhaps ten feet away!  It made its way further down to cross the trail between us, and was eventually joined by a second — perhaps its mate.  We had heard that there are ibex in the park (and, in fact, the park was created in part to protect them) but had held only faint hopes of seeing one, perhaps at a great distance.  They have recovered somewhat since they were hunted for sport by the Italian nobility, but there are still only 3000 of them in the park today and they tend to stay at the highest elevations.  The pair of mountain goats crossed the trail and descended a ways into the woods, where they seemed to be rooting around for some sort of food.  We left them to their business, carrying a warm feeling inside.

Not too long after the ibex encounter we reached the summit of our loop trail, a rocky outcrop above the treeline offering views in all directions. One sight visible on the far side of the valley was the former Cogne mine, which was the highest altitude mine in Europe while in operation. It was too high for road access, so the magnetite ore was carried down to a lower station by cargo gondola. The mine is memorialized now with a museum at the lower site but we didn’t have a chance to visit it. Next time!

Since the weather was sunny and the temperature pleasant, we decided to have our lunch on a convenient rock a little way down from the summit.  Leftover pizza from dinner the night before tasted delicious when seasoned with such surroundings!  As we were ending our meal, however, we noticed that the pocket of sunshine we were sitting in was growing smaller, and some ominous dark clouds were beginning to head in our direction.

Sure enough, not long after we packed up and started down again, the clouds caught up with us and it began to rain — lightly at first, then with more intensity.  Rain was not a problem since we had brough rain gear and pack covers, so we broke it out and continued on our way.  The small hailstones that soon began falling on our heads were more concerning — fortunately they didn’t last very long!  By the time we had made our way back to the upper gondola station, the rain had stopped again and we were able to ride down.

The rest of the day was spent driving back to Milan.  From the autoroute we were able to get a few pictures of familiar sites from new vantage points.  We dropped Karen at the train station in Ivrea so that she could make her way to the Torino airport, and we in turn headed for Milan.  Our accommodations are right near the airport, and are quite comfortable despite having the air of a converted garage.  For dinner we ate in the only restaurant in town, which was quite busy.  To help the waitstaff do their work more efficiently, the restaurant has a robotic busboy named Bob to bring plates to and from the kitchen.  Progress? 

On the walk back, we snaped a picture of some attractive clouds.  Seems like a fitting way to end our account of this marvelous trip.

Today, after a breakfast featuring a medley of home-baked treats, we stepped out of our door and went for a hike. No cars or buses involved — we simply started walking, along the dusty road into town, down the hill towards the soccer field, then across the river and up the side of the mountain. The south side of the valley is Gran Paradiso National Park, and is crisscrossed with hiking trails that connect destinations up and down the valley. The trails are well marked, with detailed signposts at every junction.

Our route took us past a number of old, abandoned structures. Many had been there so long that the roofs were collapsed under the heavy weight of the stone slabs that they use for roofing around here. The slabs are local gneiss, not slate, and each one is nearly an inch thick. We later learned that the buildings are uneconomical to maintain: because they are inside the park boundaries, the only way to bring in new building materials is by helicopter, and that is prohibitively expensive in most cases.

Our path led through pine forests, so we were mostly in shade, yet they were open enough to afford us views across the valley and down to the villages far below. Green alpine grass grew everywhere, in the forest by especially in the meadows that we would occasionally cross. The meadows were lovely, studded with wildflowers and frequented by many species of flitting butterflies. Alpine flowers are not large or showy, yet their diversity and profusion they more than compensate. Towards the end of our trip we even spotted a few early mountain strawberries just starting to turn red.

Amazingly, we passed no other hikers during our whole time in the park. We paused for lunch just below the tree line in a sort of dell, next to a cluster of abandoned buildings overlooking a babbling stream.

The trip down again took nearly as long as the way up. We were deliberately moving slowly; even so the Italian time estimates for various legs of the journey seemed wildly optimistic. Perhaps they were set with hardened mountaineers in mind; in any case, our exchange rate was about two to one.

When we finally completed our descent to the river at the bottom of the valley, we were ready to find a bar or cafe to sit and rest in for a while. Unfortunately, the community of Cretaz where we emerged was too small for any such establishment open in the afternoon. So we reluctantly shouldered our day packs again to hike the two miles or so back to our room in Epinel. The villages in the valley are all linked by wide paths on either side of the river, used for cross country skiing in the winter.

After showers and a bit of rest, we finally hopped in the car for the first time of the day and drove up to Cogne proper, where we had our well-earned beer and then met Karen for a pizza dinner and gelato. She had taken a different hike much higher up the valley, stopping for lunch in a mountainside rest hut. We had fun trading hiking stories and photos.

Today was a day of contrasts: starting the day in the heat, ending it in coolness. Beginning in a city, going to sleep in a small village. From the plain to the mountains: we are now in Cogne, adjacent to the Gran Paradiso National Park. Our water comes from the glaciers.

Breakfast was the scene of further farewells, as our choir began to go their separate ways. We are taking a bit of it with us for a while, in the form of our new friend Karen, whose plans matched our own well enough that we decided to travel together.

Before leaving Ivrea we wanted to see the Laboratorio Museo Tecnologicamente (otherwise known as the Olivetti Museum). During the 20th century Olivetti was known for manufacturing typewriters, adding machines, and eventually personal computers. Adriano Olivetti, the son of the original founder, was an interesting character and responsible for much of the company’s early success. A sort of mixture of Henry Ford and Steve Jobs, Olivetti pushed innovative and clever design in its products, while also attempting to create a utopian environment for his workers. Ivrea is thus the site of one of the major social industrial experiments of the 20th century. We were not able to get a tour of the workers’ quarters, but the museum showcasing the Olivetti’s products was open and we went to see it. It proved much more interesting than you might imagine a typewriter museum to be: the collection covers many decades of products both from Olivetti and other companies as well, so that you can see the progression of the technology and many of its milestones — from early typewriters where you cannot see what is being typed until the paper is finally removed from the machine, through keyed machines with different keyboard arrangements (QUERTZ was used in Germany and had keys with umlauts, while QZERTY was the French version with accented characters), on to newer technology like the IBM Selectrix ball typewriter and the daisy wheel. One room had typewriters from different eras that were supplied with ink and paper for guests to type on. Many younger visitors to the museum may never have had the chance to use such a machine before!

In later years Olivetti got into computer manufacturing, and produced one of the world’s first commercial transistor computers, the Eleo 9003. To Nick’s delight they had portions of it on display, including several examples of an iron core memory unit.

From the museum we got in the car to head northeast into the Alps, but we still had a few pieces of unfinished business before leaving our old haunts. Although nobody we knew was still inhabiting the Montestrutto castle, we wanted to explore the staircase on the northern side that we had not yet taken. It’s a steeper climb at 227 steps, but has a handrail and a nice view.

Following our (final) jaunt up and down the stairs to the castle, we were feeling the heat, and a plan began to form that we should visit the swimming hole by the mountain stream one more time. That’s exactly what we did, and this time (it being a weekday) we had the place nearly all to ourselves. We ate a picnic on the rocks while using the water to cool off.

The rest of our drive took us farther into the valley than any of our previous jaunts. We passed through Aosta (tragically somehow managing to blunder onto the autoroute where we were charged a 12 euro toll for 10 km of travel) and up onto the valley of Cogne. After checking in at our farm-to-table B&B, we followed the road to its end at Lillaz further up the valley. Here we took a short but pleasant hike on a loop trail to see several waterfalls, which was about all we had time for in what remained of the day. The clink of cowbells sounded along our route. The waterfalls plunged dramatically down huge rock formations into foamy pools. The water had a slight blue tinge to it — Nick joked that it was the blue dye from the glaciers leaking out, but really we’re not sure. Maybe there’s dissolved copper in it — there was some copper mining here in the early years, in addition to silver and iron.

We had dinner at a restaurant recommended by our lodging host. It included a number of dishes said to be local in character, including a soup of cheese, cabbage, and old bread, flavored with cinnamon called Zuppa alla Valpellinese. We also ordered a dessert grandly called Creme de Cogne, described as a “combination of cocoa, cream, sugar, and eggs” which arrived looking suspiciously like a bowl of chocolate pudding. (It was very good chocolate pudding, however!)

Today was the big day we have been working towards all week: our concert! Our organizers arranged a free concert open to the community around the castle. In the morning we did final run-throughs of our program, plus some last-minute polishing and adjustments. We had the chance to see our venue, which was to be either just outside the local church, or possibly inside if the audience turned out to be small. We really had no idea how many people might show up, although our local contacts seemed to think there might be too many to fit within the pews.

Following a last lunch at our regular restaurant at the base of the castle, we had the afternoon off to rest and prepare for the evening concert. Everyone knows that rest means going for a swim in a mountain stream, right? A group of us decided to visit the swimming hole that some others from our choir had been to earlier in the week. They had had the place to themselves, and brought back glowing reports of the water and the scenic spot.

The water and scenery were refreshing as advertised. The only difference was that this being a Sunday, and hot, seemingly the entirety of the surrounding population had the same idea. The rocky pools were swarming with people sunning themselves, chatting, cooking barbecue, and generally having a good time. They didn’t seem to mind having us join them, and graciously made room for us to take a dip. Aaaahh!

In the evening before the concert, we had a group dinner scheduled at another local restaurant. The venue turned out to be a sort of beer garden, serving a local specialty called miasse: a sort of stiff crepe made from thin cornmeal flatbread stuffed with different sorts of fillings — first spicy soft cheese, and later sausage, onions, and a harder cheese. One interesting feature of this restaurant was the balmetto, a room that was dug back into the hillside for coolness. The first chamber had barrels and alcohol storage, and at the rear we could see a tunnel leading further underground.

As we wrapped up our dinner and prepared to drive to the church for our concert, the skies were giving rumbling warnings of rain to come. Sure enough, it began to come down as we were arriving at the church – our first serious rain of the week, and so welcome except for the timing! So we made plans to sing inside, with the rain conveniently suppressing the audience numbers to a size that would fit inside, yet still felt respectable and worthwhile. The stone vaulting of the church provided lively acoustics for our singing.

And what singing it was! A week of effort had paid off, and our sound felt like the best it had ever been. Early in the week, one of our instructors related a story about how as a very young singer, she had wanted to join an elite older group who were singing “magicals”. Of course, they turned out to be madrigal singers, but the memory stuck with her and even now she sometimes thinks of them as magicals. And so they were to us this night — it was truly a magical concert. Here’s a link to the recording of our performance of L’Usignole by Barbara Strozzi. It tells the story of Philomena, who has been transformed into a nightingale and sings about her rage at the betrayal of the king of Thrace. Another lovely and interesting piece was Barechu, by Salamone Rossi. Rossi was an Italian Jewish composer from Mantua who, in addition to writing many traditional madrigals in Italian, also set Jewish prayers in Hebrew to music in the madrigal style.

Following the final song we all went out to the square in front of the church for some cooler air. From their we were beckoned by a man leading us through a gate, which ended up taking us to a community hall where they had prepared a reception with refreshments. There was a platter of fancy cookies and drinks, including a liquid form of lemon sorbet poured from a pitcher. Of course it takes some time to come down to earth after a high like our performance, so even after leaving the reception many of us wanted to talk and reminisce at the hotel bar. We will see many at breakfast, but some will be leaving early in the morning to make their travel connections. Wherever they may go, we have made many new friends this week.

Near the border between Switzerland and Italy there lies a pair of lakes that will look familiar to anyone who, like us, has spent time near the Finger Lakes in North America. Both lakes are long, skinny, and deep, betraying their glacial origins. These days Lake Como has the slightly hipper reputation, but Lake Maggiore also has a long history as a playground of the rich and well-connected, and is just a 90 minute drive from our hotel.

Near the lake’s center a small group of islands emerge out of the water. Once mere barren rocks, they have been built and shaped by human effort towards new purposes. One can see that they would have been most lovely in the days when they served as peaceful retreats for the wealthy Italian families who controlled them. In the present day they are still lovely, though the effect is somewhat spoiled by the hordes of sweaty tourists who come to visit. Today we were pleased to form a part of that throng and explore the islands with our group.

One must reach the Borromean Islands by water taxi, with one ticket granting access to all three of the main islands. Following the custom we began on Isola Madre, the largest of the three and farthest from our embarkation point in the town of Stresa. (Gustave Flaubert once described it as “the most voluptuous place… in the world.”) Most of the island is laid out as a botanic garden, which encompasses a wide range of different plants due to the mild climate. Paths along the shore afford views of the lake and mountains beyond. At one end of the island a villa boasts many lavishly decorated rooms. Perhaps most interesting were those housing an extensive collection of puppets and puppet theater machinery. Illusions of sun, waves, and fire were all possible, and unusual instruments could create a variety of sound effects. On one shelf there was even a miniature puppet theater, so that the puppets themselves could watch a show.

Although one ticket buys hop on / hop off access to the water taxi, what they don’t tell you is that there are at least six or seven different water taxi companies. So when you are ready to move to the next island, you join a throng of people waiting by the pier. As a boat makes landfall the driver yells, “Red tickets,” or “Blue tickets,” and the lucky holders get on while the rest fall back in disappointment. Our tickets were red, white, and green like the Italian flag, and we watched two vessels come and go before our turn finally came.

The second island is named Isola dei Pescatore after the fishing village that once stood there. Today it is the only island of the group that is permanently inhabited, although nearly all the buildings now seem to be given over to restaurants, souvenir shops, and perhaps the occasional Airbnb. One end of the island is pleasantly shaded with sycamore trees and has a pebble beach where people swim. The other end is built up with a little warren of streets, culminating in a church with a pointed steeple that soars up over the rest of the structures. We got lunch here, opting for take-away so as to leave ourselves time to see the final island of the group. We did make time for some gelato, and were intrigued by some unusual flavors offered by the local shop: orange-carrot-melon for one, and vegan pomegranate swirl for the other.

Our third island of the day was Isola Bella. It was laid out something like Isola Madre with both a palace and a garden, but executed in a manner that was clearly intended to one-up its sister island. The palace rooms were ornate and varied, with opulent furnishings and decorations seemingly fit for royalty. And indeed, there was a throne room (or audience chamber) among other features, although the highest title ever held by a member of the Borromeo family was Prince of Angera. Napoleon and his wife once stayed here overnight, and were roundly criticized by the staff (after their departure rather than to their faces) for their poor manners and slovenliness.

The palace included a number of other interesting features. A three story domed rotunda had once been intended as the main point of entry, but never had the chance to serve in this role since the planned grand harbor below it was never built. It nevertheless gave one a sense of grandeur. Now displayed in a glass case here is a model of the original plan for the island showing how it was all to have been laid out.

On the lower level of the palace, a number of rooms have been designated as “grottoes” and decorated in a rustic style with pebble mosaics on the walls, ceiling, and floor. Presumably these could serve as a change of pace when the nobles tired of the opulent surroundings above. Leading out of the grottoes was a staircase with some intriguing engineering: cantilevered stone slabs form the spiral steps, seeming to project into space without any support.

Impressive as the palace is, the gardens might just top it for splendor and decoration. The centerpiece is a courtyard terminating in a three story tiered amphitheater with statuary and plantings. Allegorical figures are everywhere, often appearing in groups of four: the four elements, the four seasons, the four winds, etc. Also prominent are references to the Borromeo family’s heraldic supporters, the unicorn and the camel (an odd choice perhaps, but they did start out as a family of merchants). We barely had time to see all of these gardens before catching the water taxi back to Stresa, and from there up the many switchbacks on the road to Ivrea.

This evening, back in Montestrusso, those of us who were not too exhausted by our day gathered on the castle terrace for pizza and wine. We sang through all the songs we have learned this week, and watched the sun setting behind the mountains.

Apparently shopping is a thing that happens in Italy. Fashion is an important consideration here as well. The group schedule for the morning was left open to allow everyone to indulge in these pursuits. Although Ivrea has a weekly market not far from our hotel, we decided to travel slightly farther afield, to the town of Biella which is known for its textiles. The drive took us up a winding road and through a tunnel into the next valley over. We ended up seeing a number of interesting shops, including a gourmet food store and (as promised) a fabric merchant. (Shopping for fabric itself turned out to be harder than we had expected, because “fabric stores” in Italy actually sell fabricated goods — i.e., clothes.) On the way out of town we stopped at the factory outlet store of Piacenza cashmere, a family business run by three brothers in the 14th generation. They sell fancy fabrics!

As it happens, our schedule also included two fancy restaurant meals. The first was a group lunch at La Mugnaia in the old town of Ivrea. For starters we had a zucchini veloute soup with poached pigeon egg and parmesan tuile, followed by tagliatelle with wild mushroom ragout. The main dish was guinea fowl on mashed potatoes, and we ended with a cold chocolate mousse topped with a coffee foam.

Between lunch and dinner we had more singing practice in the castle. The group is really coming along nicely. The instructors have chosen a nice mix of different songs, enough to provide us with a challenge yet definitely attainable. It is a real pleasure to look at a song that seemed complex and difficult when we tried to sing it on the first day, yet now has become familiar enough that we can sing it through with feeling and inflection.

Our dinner reservations were at the hotel restaurant, which until recently had held a precious Michelin star. Alas, the star was revoked not long ago, perhaps for some trifling infraction — as far as we could tell, the food was inventive and delicious, and the service friendly yet efficient. The dishes we ordered were rabbit with sweet and sour vegetables; zucchini and cheese flan with a poached egg; green ravioli with spinach and ricotta, and pigeon with foie gras and plum sauce. Far beyond these, the staff kept bringing us additional treats that we hadn’t ordered: house-made vermouth (delicious) as an aperitif, an inventive five-layer concoction of colorful vegetable foams that celebrated the recent Torino Olympics, served in a martini glass, and a plate of small petits-fours-style dessert bites to go with the semifreddo and chocolate torta we had ordered. It was all mouthwateringly delicious.

On one of our first days at Montestrutto Castle, a couple that was not part of our group found the gate left open and not knowing any better, came inside and were found wandering the grounds. Because our group has rented it for the week we would be responsible for any accidents, so we have all been asked to leave the gates closed. This means that someone staying in the castle has to come down and let us all in when we arrive in the morning. Today it seems that everyone in the castle must have slept in, because there was quite a group waiting by the time the gates were opened. (We were becoming restive and debating whether it made sense to lob cannonballs or try scaling the wall — luckily nobody was that desperate!)

The morning was devoted to singing practice, mostly polishing and practicing songs that we have all learned and worked on at least once or twice before. Our concert is coming up soon!

In the afternoon, we took to the road again to visit a different nearby castle, the Castello di Issogne. The town of Issogne is partway up the Valle d’Aoste, just past the Bard Fortress, with mountains on both sides. The castle itself wasn’t much to look at from the outside; what makes it special is the decorations and furnishings on the inside. The walls are covered with frescoes, some faded where they were exposed to the elements, but many still in surprisingly good shape. The castle has the form of a three-sided box around a central courtyard, with a fountain in the middle (undergoing reconstruction during our visit) and gardens beyond. The inner walls of the courtyard were covered with an elaborate family tree of the founding Challant family, with each relative represented by their coat of arms.

Many parts of the family tree were faded, but another set of murals near the front gate of the castle were still in surprisingly good shape. These depict slice-of-life scenes from the medieval village, including the lord’s guardhouse with the soldiers playing games including backgammon and nine men’s morris. The market scene depicts among other things a poor man attempting to steal some food, and a lecherous servant ogling a lady instead of paying attention to the fruit he is buying for his master. Perhaps the most interesting feature of the frescoes is the graffiti they are covered with. This isn’t the modern, spray-painted variety; rather, the markings themselves are also historical, recalling visitors through many centuries. They include names, bits of poetry, and other drawings and bits of writing.

The castle interiors have been well maintained throughout the centuries, and include many original pieces of furniture. In the 1800s an artist named Vittorio Avondo bought the place with the idea of restoring it to its former glory. He brought in additional period furnishings, in some cases resorting to replicas when necessary. It seems that he and his friends were early medieval reenactors, wanting to live their lives in a real castle while acting out mock feasts and battles. The castle also provided inspiration for their art, including a huge painting of the castle courtyard (slightly embellished) by Avondo’s friend Federico Pastoris.

Sitting as it does on the route between Italy and France, the castle sometimes played host to important guests. In fact, the main bedroom is dedicated to King Charles VIII of France, who is known to have feasted in the castle and may also have stayed there.

Today our group had one main objective: to visit the village of Barolo, home to world-famous red wines.  This required a nearly two hours of travel from our hotel in Ivrea, so we got up bright and early to make the journey.  Our exact destination was the Borgogno winery, right in the center of Barolo.  In fact, they’re the only winery still processing their grapes within the village limits.  They have so little space that when it is time to process the harvest, they park machines in the roadway outside the cellars.  Borgogno dates back to 1761 when the founder decided to start producing wines for aging rather than just early drinking. They produce about 250,000 bottles annually, four-fifths of which goes to the export market.

Our wine tasting was combined with a tour of the cellars and production facilities.  We tasted three different wines, starting with the least exclusive, made from Nebbiolo grapes sourced in the surrounding region.  (Only grapes grown on a handful of hillsides adjacent to Barolo can qualify to bear its prestigious name.)

After this warmup for our palettes, we descended the stairs into the cellars where we first saw the large fermentation vats.  Although some are made of stainless steel, the most interesting ones to us were cast of concrete, which is a traditional method in this area.  You may notice the doors on the front, large enough to admit a human.  Brave employees must climb inside to wash the tanks between batches and spray the insides with a glass-resin sealant.  To avoid being overcome by the fumes, they have to carry their own oxygen.  

Controlling oxygen turns out to be a theme in winemaking.  After fermentation, the wine ages in oak barrels, which are fitted with airlocks to ensure that no oxygen leaks in.  These must be periodically topped off by more wine taken from smaller barrels (also with their own airlocks).  At the bottling stage, according to our guide, a little oxygen is actually beneficial, which is why Borgogno still uses natural wood corks (traditionally sourced from Sardinia but more recently from Portugal as well).  

While in the cellar, we sampled our second wine, which had a “No Name” label.  The story behind this goes back to a year when the second half of the winery’s vintage failed to receive certification as a true Barolo due to subjective criticism of the wine’s color.  The owner found this unfair, especially considering that the first half batch had passed with no issues.  So, instead of selling it as a less-prestigious Nebbiolo, he released it with a label that just said “No Name” as a protest.  Everyone knew what it was, of course, and it sold out faster than any of their other wines. The label continues to this day as a vehicle for good wines with certification issues.

After passing through more cellars stacked with a several fortunes worth of aging wine bottles, we ascended to wine heaven: a sampling of Barolo Classico on a shaded roof-top terrace with panoramic views of the vineyards and surrounding villages.

Our tour continued with a group lunch in nearby La Morra at a restaurant with further expansive views.  We didn’t sample the beef tartare or beef with tuna sauce,  but we enjoyed the risotto with hazelnuts and other vegetarian options, plus the coffee flan at the end.

After a long lunch plus the drive back, we just had time for a short exploration of Ivrea, visiting the exteriors of the castle and the duomo – not much to report about either.  We were searching for a pasta place for dinner and encountered a mystery – an open window below street level clearly serving guests but with no visible entrance.  We eventually found the door down a long tunnel from the other side of the block.  The rhubarb and sage ravioli was a hit with us – we need to cook more with sage!

Today was an all singing day, with no planned tour. The songs began at breakfast: it was the birthday of one of our group members, and the rendition of Happy Birthday spontaneously broke into glorious four-part harmony. Then people sang several other birthday songs, including at least one we had never heard before.

Those of you who are not particularly musical may wonder what it is like to practice madrigals in an Italian castle (or anywhere else, for that matter). The music we are learning comes from the 14th to the 17th centuries, mostly by Italian composers but also a few others. Some of it is achingly beautiful, even when performed by less-than-perfect amateurs. Being part of the production gives one a unique perspective: one is closest to one’s own part, yet also aware of all the other singing. When one comes to a particularly beautiful figure there is a rich relish in creating a special moment.

Our instructors have selected a diverse collection of songs, including some of the great stars (Monteverde, for example), and also including several women composers who are less well known (Vittoria Aliotti and Barbara Strozzi). In their time, the women faced a struggle to be recognized, yet their work is some of the most interesting. The music ranges from love songs and odes to spring to gloomy laments and meditations on death — passionate stuff, in other words.

After practicing all morning, in the afternoon we had an unexpected treat in the form of a visiting lutist. He played several songs for us on his own and with accompaniment by one of our teachers, and also played alongside our ensemble singing. He also told us a little bit about the lute and its history, and the complicated systems for notating lute music. (Most of it is written in tablature, but depending on whether you follow the Italian or French tradition the string notation may be right side up or upside down and use either letters or numbers for identification.)

Because there was no organized tour today, we did end the group activities a little earlier than usual. Susannah noted that this left us two or three hours of sunlight at the end of the day, and having been sitting for most of the time we thought it would be nice to get out. The hotel was able to rent us a pair of e-bikes with helmets, and we set off to explore the local “5 Laghi” (five lakes). We had maps showing routes around all the lakes but weren’t quite sure what to expect from the trails. In the end, it turned out that they ranged from paved roads through rocky cobbles down to some areas that seemed little more than hiking trails swarming with mosquitoes. The e-bikes turned out to be a blessing, allowing us to visit much more rugged and distant terrain than would otherwise have been possible. And it was worth it — we discovered a rocky vantage point overlooking the farthest and wildest of the five lakes, with the Valle d’Aoste framed in the background and shafts of sunlight streaming down from above the mountains. Magical stuff!

Today our day was once again split between learning new madrigals and an afternoon/evening of tourism. At lunch Susannah opted (despite the heat) to do a little more exploration of the Via Francigena in the vicinity of our castle, and came across some attractive stone structures during the walk.

In the early afternoon we all left piled into vehicles for the hour+ drive up the valley to Aosta. This is the capital city of the region, and sits strategically at the junction of three mountain passes — one way leads to Italy, one to France, and the last into Switzerland. The city plan was laid out by the Romans in a big rectangle, with roads running east to west and north to south. The biggest trade routes over the passes meet in the middle of the city. Although much of the Roman remains are not in great shape, a part of the ancient theater still stands, as do many of the walls and the most important of the four ancient city gates.

Additional ruins lie hidden below the surface if you know where to look. About two centuries ago, an archeologist uncovered an extensive underground arcade, still intact under the buildings above it. This turned out to be part of the old Roman forum surrounding the square that held the two temples of the holy precinct. In another sector of the city (conveniently accessible on the same ticket) are the excavated foundations of the first Christian basilica built in the city around the 4th century. Perhaps our favorite Roman remain actually predates the city itself: a bridge built more than two millenia ago that once spanned the river Buthier. It may have survived this long in part because the river shifted its channel a few centuries in, so that it now spans a dry channel.

We ate at a restaurant that specialized in local dishes, which had a whole section of polenta, go figure! We each ordered a different selection (sage&honey and La Polentaccia) – both very different and very delicious.

On our way home, we opted for the scenic highway (despite both Google Maps and all the traffic signs wanting us to take the faster Autoroute with tolls), which afforded delightful views of the surrounding mountains and the towns along the valley. We also passed by Bard Fortress as the sunset was in full bloom.