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Cafe breakfast

Looking back at Torino now that we’ve spent 24 hours in Genova, I see the almost quiet elegance in the streets fully acknowledging the gold on gold of the palazzo reale.  Not to mention all those giant canvases.  Miles of colonnaded streets give shade and shelter for generations of walkers.  I heard some story that they were built so that the weather would not impede royals in need of exercise.  The small streets of the city centro still allows for sun to touch the cobble stones.  

The duomo, right next door to the magnificent palazzo reale, is truly nothing special.  How can this be so?  I don’t think I’ve been to a Italian city that did not glorify the almighty in some grand fashion.  The duomo is the home of the Shroud Of Turin although it is not ordinarily on display.  And part of the duomo where the shroud had been house burned a number of years ago.  Still, the design and decoration are peculiarly plain.  Why?  The duomo of Venice in Piazza San Marco was the doge’s family chapple before it was given to the city’s worshippers.  It is crazy conjecture but I’ve also heard that Torino is full of magic. Light and dark.  Might that be a clue?  Every new it of information seems to raise at least three new questions.  I have grown very fond of this city and the friends who hosted us with such care.

Last week, many, many, dare I say all, of the shops in Torino (and perhaps all of Italy) had sales on their summer goods.  Anyone who knows me knows I probably did not shop; however, had I been of a different temperament, wild horses would not have kept me away from the bargains.  I was satisfied to take pictures of shop windows and leave those bargains to others.