Northern Italy cultivates an alluring nature
A trip to the Friuli-Venezia Giulia region of Italy reveals quaint towns, beautiful countryside and friendly people.
By JERRY V. HAINES
Published May 1, 2005
UDINE, Italy - I'd like to show you our favorite souvenir from our trip to Friuli, but I can't, because we ate it.
And it wasn't biscotti, chocolate or delicious Montasio cheese, either. It was a lemon.
Friuli is shorthand for Friuli-Venezia Giulia, a region tucked away in Italy's attic. My wife, Janice, and I had just toured Venice for the first time and had been blown away by it. But Friuli offered us a different take on Italy - like discovering that your favorite Hollywood star is just as cool off-camera as on.
Friuli is a territory in which men actually wear those jaunty hiking hats, where the landscape starts looking like the Alps. Where a casual conversation at a bar can turn into a half-hour language lesson, with free liqueur. And a lemon.
Our trip to Friuli began with a 90-minute train ride from Venice northeast to Udine (pronounced OOH-dih-neh). Janice and I arrived too late in the afternoon to do much but eat a leisurely, carb- and cholesterol-laden meal. At Osteria alle Volte, in a 15th century vaulted basement, we enjoyed fettuccine with mussels and porcini, open-faced ravioli graced with saffron-tinted scallops and shrimps, and fine local wine.
Then we contented ourselves with a quick walk through central Udine. There was little sign of Udine's main attraction, the art of Giambattista Tiepolo.
In 1726 a local patriarch had given the young Venetian painter a commission to execute frescoes in the Udine cathedral. He continued to paint canvasses for his appreciative Friulian audience even after he left, and he returned in his old age with his son, to produce further masterpieces.
Our destination for the day was Passariano, about 15 miles west of Udine. The local bus took us through villages where farm fields and vineyards nearly come into town, and where cars share the roads with tractors.
We weren't sure we were on the right bus, until a succession of motherly women adopted us and made our safe arrival their project. As one of them would get off at her stop, she would hand us off to someone else.
A 47-acre garden "boot'Finally we alighted in a pleasant but unremarkable residential section of Passariano. But just up the block was something magnificently out of place in the little town: Villa Manin is described as the country home of Venetian nobility, but that's like saying St. Peter's Basilica is a church. In fact, the colonnade in front of the villa is based on the one at St. Peter's.
Begun in 1650, it was a symbol of Venetian domination of the area. So, imagine the irony when a subsequent tenant, Napoleon Bonaparte, in 1797 signed the Treaty of Campoformido at this villa, ending Venice's run as an international power.
But six decades later, the Manin family regained the villa during the unification of Italy. They directed landscapers to redesign the villa's 47-acre garden into the shape of the Italian "boot," some of which is still discernable today.
We explored the arboretum and vast expanses of lawn, appreciating the crumbling temples and weather-beaten statuary that convey an air of elegant decrepitude. This took about an hour - and that was just the backyard.
There is a park-size lawn in front, too, confined by that elliptical colonnade.
The villa has an equally grand interior. The estate has its own armory, featuring a 12-foot-long, 18th century musket, examples of body armor and Darth Vaderlike helmets.
We paused in the villa's chapel, richly decorated with sculptures commissioned by the family. Upstairs are the glittering rooms once occupied by the last doge, or appointed ruler, of Venice.
The next day we church-hopped through Udine in search of Tiepolo. At the diminutive Oratory of Purity we discreetly inspected a Tiepolo Madonna while elderly worshipers chanted a weekday morning Mass.
Art to recline forThe nearby Archbishop's Palace was quieter, except for the creaky wooden floors. This is Udine's don't-miss museum, a succession of distinctly decorated, high ceilinged rooms - entering each was like entering a different building.
The prime attraction is the gallery, illustrated with Tiepolo's vivid floor-to-ceiling frescoes of Old Testament stories. The figures are not Sunday-school handsome; each face - even those of the camels - is a character study. And there seemed to be a lot of sensuality in these works for something classified as religious art.
The ceiling of another room holds Tiepolo's Judgment of Solomon. In it, an executioner raises his sword to split the squirming baby he holds upside-down by an ankle. The child's true mother raises her hand to stop him, while the competing claimant looks on with an expression of "Why didn't I think of that?"
There are more Tiepolos in Udine's cathedral, and still more in the old hilltop castle, rebuilt as Udine's visitor-freindly Municipal Museum. It's a hike up to the building, but inside there are cushy chairs in each gallery.
In one big room with extensive paintings on the ceiling, the chairs actually recline, so that you can enjoy the art without getting neck strain. The view from that hilltop is particularly fine at sunset.
Udine's exteriors reminded us that Udine, too, once was under dominion of the doge. In the Piazza Liberta, Loggia del Lionello (the old town hall) shows Venetian influence in its pink and white wedding cake construction. St. Mark's winged lion, a symbol of Venice, shows up at a couple of places in the square.
Our last full day in the region we spent in exploring Friuli's birthplace, Cividale del Friuli. The charm starts with the trip there, in a two-car train that runs the 15-minute stretch between Udine and Cividale, pausing at crossings to pick up students and farmwives.
Julius Caesar founded this town in 50 B.C., and many traces of the ancient life under various conquering armies remain. There is a miniature Lombard temple (a tempietto) where the Netsone River gorge makes a graceful turn. Saintly stucco figures look down primly from an upper wall of the eighth century chapel. Choir stalls spread leafy wooden "wings" that must have made the singers resemble angels.
A bit downstream, a Celtic grotto from the third century B.C. presents an enigmatic memorial of that prehistoric era. Its exact purpose is unclear - perhaps it held funerary remains. Typical of the Friulian tourism industry's informality, one gains access to it by picking up the key at a nearby tavern. You are reminded to lock the door and turn off the lights as you leave.
We walked along the Netsone to the 15th century Devil's Bridge, which legend has it was built when Satan provided a rock to support the center pillar, in return for the soul of the first person to cross the bridge. (In variations on this story, the Friulians outwit the devil by sending a dog or cat across.)
The water was emerald and clear, and even from our position 65 feet above the water we could see a dozen fish swimming.
That night back in Udine, we found another traditional Friulian restaurant. Five old guys played cards in a corner of Osteria al Roma, while local couples at other tables laughed and gossiped over wine and the local cheese, frico.
After our meal, no one brought the check, so I went to the bar to settle up. This minor transaction evolved into a rambling chat - some in English, most in Italian - with the owner. We talked about food, Italian, his travels to the States, our travels in Italy.
Somewhere in this session, a glass of high-octane plum brandy appeared for me, with some limoncello liqueur for Janice. Conversation turned to how to make limoncello, and we agreed that to do it right you needed real Italian lemons.
Whereupon he gave us a lemon.
When we said good night, he bid us the same and buon viaggio. And then so did the entire room of diners.
Back at our hotel, Janice and I concluded that U.S. agricultural inspectors would not let us bring that lemon into the country. Though it never would become limoncello, it would be a shame to waste it, so we sliced it up and ate it just as it was.
It was sour, as such fruit should be, making my entire face pucker. But given its source, it is now a sweet memory.
IF YOU GOGETTING THERE: Udine's airport has limited service. The closest major airports are in Trieste, about 26 miles away, and in Venice, about 87 miles away. There is frequent train service to Udine from both cities.
TELEPHONES: To call the Italian numbers below from the United States, dial 011 (the international dialing code), 39 (country code for Italy), then the number. The "0432" is the applicable area code, but it must be dialed even for local calls.
STAYING THERE: Astoria Hotel Italia Udine, 24 Piazza XX Settembre, call 0432-50-5091; go to www.hotelastoria.udine.it This four-star hotel's rooms are elegant, with chandeliers in some. Near the cathedral and major points in central Udine. Doubles start at $145.
Hotel Friuli, 24 Viale Ledra, Udine, call 0432-23-4351. Three-star hostelry is clean and modern. About a 10-minute walk from central Udine; 20 minutes from train station. Doubles from $115.
WHERE TO EAT:
Osteria alle Volte, 4 Via Mercatovecchio, Udine. Call 0432-50-2800. Seafood and pasta are delightful, as is the ancient basement setting. Big lunch for two, about $55.
Osteria al Roma, 49 Via Poscolle (at end of an alley), Udine. Call 0432-29-9358. Friulian cuisine in a neighborhood favorite. Dinner for two with wine, $55.
Ristorante del Doge, at Villa Manin in Passariano, call 0432-90-4829. The accommodating service and glorious food (dorado filleted at tableside; lemon sorbetto dusted with espresso) make it hard to believe that this was once the villa's tool shed. Lunch for two, with wine,about $60.
FOR MORE INFORMATION: Contact Italian Government Tourist Board, www.italiantourism.com