Torino. Underloved. Industrial northern city of Fiat and chocolate. With cafes as pretty as Vienna's. Cakes and handmade pasta. Parks. A river. I stopped at the castle for a minute, former home of the Savoy family, because historically, some of the French got along with some Italians.
Torino also has arcades. Under some of them, revolutions were plotted, or Mark Twain wrote, or, hidden in the back of this galleria is a beautiful art nouveau theatre.
In the main piazza there are an assortment of monuments--black egyptian statues, a larger-than life soldier commemorating past battles. And if you look over the edge of the medieval castle walls--a secret moat garden.
Lastly, as a postscript to yesterday's post about weather, this is a photo of the gorgeous evening we are having here a few hours after it HAILED not golf balls, but heavy sheets of icy marbles. Happy spring.
