Parma

I had only 105 minutes for Parma. While getting familiar with the city’s small streets, only then did it occur to me that Sunday is the day of rest, and all work is strictly off the cards. With the hope of eventually finding the historical centre, my senses were continuously tingled by the smell of Italian mamas’ cooking and the busy noise of family preparing for lunch.

The streets themselves contained ornately detailed street lights and vividly coloured houses with wooden doors rich in geometry, which all helped me from thinking too much about my blistered feet (the boat shoes I bought a few days ago still proved torturous, but they do look so pretty).

I was losing hope in finding that espresso that would supercharge me after having to spend this many hours on the train. Shop after gelateria after prosciutto store was closed, and I was coming to terms with the thought of leaving Parma without sampling any of its iconic ham.

Except that didn’t quite happen, as I stumbled across the Parma Festival which started a day prior to my visit and runs till the 22nd September. I have to recommend it — huge plates of prosciutto with bread and walnuts for a mere 6euro. The slicing man (technical term) even gave me a glass of wine to complement my tasting and came over to my table to explain the ham. His generosity filled me with a feeling of being well looked after as I munched away with swing music and Italian dialogues in the background.