I’m in Italy this weekend with my twin sister, Heather, and her husband and in-laws. The in-laws are living in Milan as mission presidents, but they took a break from presidential duties to show us around.
We started out this morning with a stop in Bergamo, where we spent an hour or so exploring the ancient “citta alta”. The town is perched on top of a hill, but morning fog blocked the views. So we made do with a wander through town.
First some towers built of sandstone in the 11-13th centuries by noble families . . .
. . . mind-boggling interiors . . .
. . . which were all the more interesting for having frescoes from the 11th century next to paintings from the 17th century.
. . . followed by it’s somewhat grander (slightly blander) next-door neighbor, the cathedral.
As we strolled back to the car we noticed “polenta dulce” everywhere. The shops claimed it was s delicious local specialty. Naturally we stopped to split a little one.
Verdict? Sweetest thing any of us had eaten in years. The sort of thing where the sugar goes straight to your brain and you lose the will to live.
So, um, buyer beware.