One week trip to north Italy

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Trip start
December 28, 2025
One week trip to north Italy Florin Paun
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Zürich to Pontevico
December 28, 2025 in Italy ⋅ ⛅ 3 °C
Our one-week North Italy trip kicked off today with a masterclass in patience. The Gotthard North portal greeted us with a 5-km 'standstill-experiment' and the typical drip-feed traffic regulation. Sitting in the red Hilux, I had plenty of time to contemplate Galileo’s 'Eppur si muove'—though, at that speed, even a glacier would have overtaken us.

Once through the tunnel, we encountered a rare economic phenomenon on the highway in Airolo: a Red Bull for 4.90 CHF. The price was so scandalous that the cans in the cooler were actually sweating from pure embarrassment.
A highlights of the transit was our stop at the 'Stehbar' in Coldrerio. We transformed the Hilux's tailgate into a high-end standing bistro, where we enjoyed the sun and some snacks.

We reached our base for the next three nights: Hotel Al Veliero in Pontevico. It’s a solid 3-star spot with a very friendly receptionist and a great restaurant. From here, we’ll launch day trips to Parma and Cremona. The real journey begins now!

The final evidence for the day: Hotel Al Veliero's restaurant is a local stronghold. The place was packed with Italians—always the most reliable KPI for food quality.
After the Red Bull trauma in Airolo, the pricing here felt like a gift from the heavens. A bottle of Prosecco Brut for just 17 Euro? At that price, the bubbles don't just sparkle; they celebrate. The Branzino was exceptional, and the bill was a refreshing reminder that honest prices still exist. It's safe to say the Hilux can stay parked tonight—we’ve found our base camp.Read more
TravelerGreat!!! On the move again :-)
12/29/25Reply
Florin PaunGreat to hear from you, my friend! Yes on the way, but on 5th of January I will start my new doctor job.😀
12/29/25Reply
Traveler 😍
12/29/25Reply
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One week trip to north Italy Florin Paun
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The Stone and the Clock: Cremona
December 29, 2025 in Italy ⋅ ☀️ 8 °C
Cremona is a city of stone that refuses to yield to the triviality of time. The sun hits the Piazza del Comune, and you feel the weight of centuries. It is a place for men who appreciate the permanence of a well-built wall and the precision of a gear that has turned since the Middle Ages.

The Torrazzo stands there, 112 meters of brick and ambition. To truly see Cremona, you must take the stairs. Five hundred and two steps. Each one is a physical argument with gravity, a reminder that history is earned, not just visited.

At the top, the air is different. You look down at the Baptistery and the Duomo, and the world below seems small, yet perfectly ordered. Inside the tower, the Foucault pendulum swings. It does not care about your fatigue or the modern rush. It follows the earth’s rotation, a silent witness to a physical truth that remains even when we are gone.

Then there is the clock. A masterpiece of medieval technology. It tells the time, the moon phases, and the stars. It was built for a world that trusted human intelligence. Today, we put warning labels on batteries telling people not to drink the acid. We have traded the mastery of the Torrazzo for the safety of the lowest common denominator. It is the modern absurdity.

In the streets, you find Stradivari. He is everywhere and nowhere. His statue sits on a bench, now missing a hand—a victim of a nameless, mindless vandalism. It is a strange sight: the man who created the most perfect instruments in history, reduced to a broken bronze figure. His real grave is just a stone in the dirt of Piazza Roma, where a church once stood. The church is gone, but the name remains.

Walking through Cremona is a lesson in material science. The local Palazzi are a silent protest against the 'IKEA-fication' of the world. Here, people didn't buy furniture in flat boxes; they commissioned legacies. And they certainly didn't dress in 50 shades of corporate grey.Read more
Florin Paun Construction began in 1107, but the structure was nearly destroyed by a massive earthquake in 1117. The cathedral you see today was largely rebuilt between the 12th and 14th centuries. A masterpiece of Lombard Romanesque architecture, later enhanced with Gothic and Renaissance elements. The white marble facade and its grand rose window stand in stark, beautiful contrast to the red brick of the surrounding medieval city.
12/29/25Reply
Florin Paun The Monument: At 112 meters, the Torrazzo is one of the tallest brick towers in the world. The Clock: Built between 1583 and 1588 by Francesco and Giovan Battista Divizioli (father and son), this is one of the largest astronomical clocks in existence, with a diameter exceeding 8 meters. Clock's function: More than just a timepiece, it tracks moon phases, solstices, equinoxes, and the sun’s passage through the zodiac. It is a mechanical marvel that mirrors the movement of the universe without a single drop of modern electronics.
12/29/25Reply
Florin Paun The most famous luthier in history. In a career spanning over 70 years, he produced around 1,100 instruments, of which about 650 survive today. His "Golden Period" (1700–1720) produced violins with unmatched acoustic power, attributed by modern science to unique wood density and specific mineral treatments. Stradivari lived and worked his entire life in Cremona, transforming the city into the global capital of violin making—a tradition maintained today by over 150 active workshops.
12/29/25Reply
TravelerHello! That period is called "little Ice Age!" And this is the reason for induced density of the wood. A living response and defense against that cold. Stradivari was in a way lucky to work on that wood!
12/30/25Reply
Florin PaunOf course, LIA was effective in producing high density wood in the Alpes, so Stradivary was lucky. But it was also related with poor crops, famine, social unrest.
12/30/25Reply
Traveler👍
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One week trip to north Italy Florin Paun
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Fog, Castles, and the Red of Parma
December 30, 2025 in Italy ⋅ ⛅ 4 °C
The day began with the erasure of the world. We left our base in Pontevico and drove south across the Po Plains, where the fog sat heavy and indifferent over the flat earth.

Then, the sun broke through. We arrived at Torrechiara, and there it was—a fortress of stone standing defiant against the morning light. It is an exceptional place, built not just for war, but for the love between Pier Maria Rossi and Bianca Pellegrini. Walking through the golden rooms, you feel the weight of the Rossi legacy. It is a rare thing to find such a sharp, sunny clarity after a morning of gray uncertainty..,

We pushed on to Parma. The city was quiet, settled into its own rhythm. We stood in Piazza del Duomo, a space dominated by the Romanesque strength of the Cathedral and the pink Verona marble of the octagonal Baptistery. The Gothic bell tower stood tall and silent between them. It is a square that doesn't need to shout to prove its importance; the history is written in the stone.

But Parma has a law of its own: the afternoon silence. We moved through the streets looking for a place to eat, encountering door after door that was simply closed. In Italy, hunger must often wait for the clock. There is a certain absurdity in being surrounded by the world's finest ham while every kitchen remains stubbornly dark. We were outsiders in a city that was currently taking a nap.

Our luck changed at Poldo Panini. No pretense, just the rhythmic glide of a Berkel machine—a masterpiece of mechanics that treats a legend like Culatello di Zibello with the respect it deserves. We ordered a platter that was a map of the region’s best: Culatello, Salame Felino, and aged Parmigiano. The fat of the meat was rich and honest, exactly what we had been searching for since the fog of the morning.
We finished with a glass of Rosso di Parma. The wine was dark and right. On the table, a small slate reminded us: “Chi beve solo Acqua ha un segreto da nascondere.” (He who drinks only water has a secret to hide). We have no secrets, only the satisfaction of a day that began in the clouds and ended with the best cold cuts in Italy. The road back is long, but the wine makes it shorter.Read more
Florin Paun Watching the Berkel blade glide through the Culatello—a masterpiece of mechanics meeting a masterpiece of meat. I bought mine when they were tools; now they are investments. But here, in Parma, it’s simply the only way to treat a D.O.P. legend with respect.
12/30/25Reply
Florin Paun Barbera for the acidity, Bonarda for the body. We are drinking the 'Rosso Parma'—a wine that doesn't try to be a French Chateau, but instead acts as the perfect, sharp companion to the richest ham on earth.
12/30/25Reply
Florin Paun Extra ordered, zero regrets. We are eating the 'Culatello di Zibello'—not just ham, but a piece of the Po Valley's soul, aged in the fog and served in the heart of Parma. It's the culinary equivalent of the Rossi fortress: raw, authentic, and incomparable.
12/30/25Reply
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The Silent Turn: A New Year in Bergamo
January 1 in Italy ⋅ ☁️ 2 °C
We left the Hotel Al Veliero in Pontevico on the morning of the 31st. We moved toward the heavy history of the plains, stopping first at Padernello. It is a castle born from the 14th century, surrounded by a deep moat where the water reflects the brick like a dark mirror. Then came the Rocca Sforzesca di Soncino, a fortress of absolute power. Its towers are sharp against the sky, built by the Sforza family to command the river and the road.

By the afternoon, we reached Bergamo and settled into the Art Hotel. The transition from the old plains to the city was smooth. We found a place for dinner nearby. We drank Franciacorta, the bubbles sharp and cold, a fine celebration of the land. It was the right way to end the day.

When the night came, we did not wait for the clocks to strike midnight. There was no noise, no pretense, and no forced celebration. We were tired, and we let the new year arrive in silence while we slept. It was absolutely right; the change of a calendar does not require a witness when the heart is already at peace.

On the morning of the 1st, we climbed toward Bergamo Alta. Seeing the city again was like meeting an old friend who remains unchanged by time. The streets were beautiful in the winter light, the cobblestones worn smooth by centuries of footsteps. It is a city that breathes history, standing firm on its ancient ground.

We walked the Venetian walls and eventually found our way to the Osteria Donizetti. The dinner was magnificent—honest food and local wine served in a room that felt like home. It was a meal of substance, shared in the quiet gravity of the upper city.

The year began as it should: with the strength of fortresses, the clarity of good wine, and the blue shadows of the hills.Read more
Florin Paun Padernello was more than a residence; it was a silent witness to the brutal struggle between two giants. Built in 1391 by the Martinengo family, it stood as a vital military outpost for the Republic of Venice. Positioned on the edge of the Venetian frontier, it was a stone barrier against the expanding Duchy of Milan. The thick red bricks and the deep moat were designed for defense, marking the line where Venetian power met Milanese ambition. Today, it remains a monument to that friction—a quiet survivor of the endless wars that once defined the plains of Lombardy.
12/31/25Reply
Florin Paun The atmosphere here has a dark, morbid edge. In the still water of the moat, among the reflections of the red bricks, lie a few drowned pigeons. It’s a grim contrast to the legend of the White Lady. No polished tourism here—just the raw, silent decay of a fortress that has seen centuries of life and death. The "Dama Bianca" might rise from these waters, but today, it’s just the cold reality of nature within the shadows of the Republic of Venice. Freaky, honest, and far from any kitsch.
12/31/25Reply
Florin Paun Look closely at these symbols: a fusion of power and empire. You see the Biscione—the serpent devouring a human—which is the historic coat of arms of the Sforza and the origin of the modern Alfa Romeo logo. Right next to it sits the Imperial Eagle, marking the castle's loyalty to the Holy Roman Empire. It’s a medieval branding of authority: Milanese blood combined with Imperial protection, carved into the stone of a fortress built for war.
1/1/26Reply
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Lombard Lines: Bricks, Villas & Faith
January 3 in Italy ⋅ 🌙 2 °C
We left Bergamo behind. The road to Varese was a line between the old industry of the plains and the rising earth. In Crespi d’Adda, the town was built for the loom and the man—a perfect, quiet order of brick and bone. Then came the Villa Reale in Monza, a house of straight lines and cold stone, where power once had a permanent address. It was a day that weighed heavy with history.

By evening, we reached the heights of Santa Maria del Monte. The Hotel Colonne stood there, looking out over the world. We sat and had a Negroni, cold, bitter and right. The dinner was fine, the kind of meal that makes the day’s miles worth it.

The second day was for the village. We walked the narrow alleys where the light barely hits the stones. The Baroque church was a sudden explosion of gold and shadows, a monument to a faith that does not compromise. We took our time; there was no need to hurry.

Then we turned the car toward the Swiss border. The mountains waited. As always in Italy, we stopped to fill the back with the things that matter—the oil, the hard cheeses, the flour that tastes of the sun. It is a ritual we do not break.

The air grew thin and cold as we crossed back into Switzerland. It was a good trip. The kind of trip that stays with you.Read more
Florin Paun Dinner was a lesson in simplicity and quality. The wine was a Barbaresco, mature and sanft, holding the warmth of the sun in every drop. When it came to the beef, the deal was clear: medium-rare if it is good, rare if it is excellent. They brought it bleu. It was a silent compliment to the meat and a nod to a guest who knows his own mind. It was juicy, bold, and perfect.
1/4/26Reply
Florin Paun The sun comes up slowly, not with a shout but with a warm hand that touches the ridges of the hills one by one. There is no noise here, just the feeling of the frost leaving the wood and the light finding its way through the mist. After the heavy history of the palaces and the salt of the evening meal, this is the clarity we look for. It is a simple thing to stand with a coffee and watch the day begin, but simple things are often the only ones that matter. We are here, the air is fresh, and the road is waiting. It is a good start.
1/4/26Reply
Florin Paun At the Hotel Colonne, we are old guests. There is a quiet loyalty in these mountains; the owner recognized us and brought Negronis as a gift, even though the bar was closed and the staff was weary from days of labor. We sat in the dining room, surrounded by floral wallpaper and the gathering blue of the dusk, watching the sun dip behind the ridges of Varese.
1/4/26Reply
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Trip end
January 3, 2026

One week trip to north Italy

Zürich to Pontevico

​The Stone and the Clock: Cremona

Fog, Castles, and the Red of Parma

​The Silent Turn: A New Year in Bergamo

Lombard Lines: Bricks, Villas & Faith

The Stone and the Clock: Cremona

The Silent Turn: A New Year in Bergamo