We started out with no expectations for the day. We were visiting the Italian city of Novara for no other reason that our wonderful neighbors’ family is from the area. We wanted to explore and send pictures to honor our friends. The town had about 100,000 people and we approached through farm country. Gorgonzola cheese and milk factories lined the highway.

Once in Novara, we circled the old city trying to find a parking spot. You are not allowed to drive in the inner ring. The entire downtown area is pedestrian only. Everyone obviously tries to park as close as they can to the city center. We drive past a spot unsure of where to park. The next two lots were full. In the next one, the ticket machine was broken. There was a traffic jam in the lot as the cars all tried to back up in the line and make it out onto the street without the use of the exit gate. Another try, another lot full. Full. Full. Full. Finally, 50 minutes after we entered the city we acquire a parking spot. It felt like a small victory.

Ironically, the street we use to walk into the old city goes past the very first lot we tried. We venture through the lovely Parco Bambin toward the Castello Sforzesco. It is not open for tours so we take some photos and move into the Piazza Martiri Della Liberty across the street. The plaza sadly, is now a parking lot with a lovely statue. But we don’t want to be run over by parking obsessed drivers, so we move along. The competition for a space is intense…..even for Italy.

Inside the pedestrian zone, it was a different world. The streets were peaceful and almost deserted. We headed to the Basilica San Gaudenzio, whose spire towers over the city. In the meantime, we are almost run over by a driver who apparently is allowed to drive in the pedestrian zone. Occasionally cars pass going way too fast for a road that has little room for pedestrians to get out of the way. The must have houses in the city center.

Novara was full of colorful churches. Each older than the next. The Chiesi San Marco had an explosion of golden icons screening the alter. Faint smells of incense and the candle glow warmed the room. We sat for a while and then resumed our trek across town.

Basilica San Gaudenzio was a surprise. Although we could easily see it across the city, it remained hidden by the narrow streets until we were at its doorstep. The spire shot upwards toward the heavens. Delicate and beautiful on the outside, on the inside, the cupola seemed to open into heaven itself.

Several chapels, offered additional places for reflection. The frescoes provided colorful reminders of the lives of the Saints. The wooden pews were embossed with coats of arms of local nobility.

An organist was practicing and the pipes rang loud and true. A call to worship as I studied medieval art on walls, ceilings, altarpieces, screens…. I was overwhelmed.

Reluctantly, we left the church and walked the lanes to more and more churches, villas, and piazzas. Old buildings have new life as banks, libraries, galleries, shops, and government buildings. Down the Corso Cavour to Palazzo Bellini, Chiesi San Martino, and Piazza Marriott. History is honored. The future is secure.

We strolled up and down the Corso Cavour, an ancient trade route running across Italy to the Alps. Napoleon took this road as a guest and then as a conqueror. In this day it was full of ordinary people going about their business. When it was time for a mid day meal and we half heartedly began pursuing a restaurant. Mostly, I just liked the excuse of looking into hidden palazzos. There could be a restaurant there….right?

Before lunch, I wanted to see the cathedral of Santa Maria Assunta. We walked in the direction of the bell tower. We reached a beautiful street of endless colonnades. But the church courtyard was locked with large iron gates. A sign on the church door said entrance but there was no visible no way in. I double checked the schedule which assured me the church was open…except it wasn’t.

I didn’t give up easily. We walked around the entire church complex (not the easiest thing to do in a medieval city). While we did not find a way into the church, we did find a lovely square that used to be the canon house. A quiet walk around was as close to the church as we came. We also found an alley, a car park, a large bank, several dead ends, and construction zones. We did not find the church interior or the museum.

On the last corner, I found a small exterior chapel. It was a small consolation. I stopped for a moment to reflect that life comes with no guarantees about outcomes. Instead, we have to enjoy the little unexpected pleasures. The small chapel was a pleasure in muted pinks and candle glow.

The shops closed for the afternoon siesta period (Riposo). Foot traffic slowed and the crowds became settled in plazas, on steps, on benches, or in cafes. School children clustered in groups, enjoying their lunch period (which seemingly is a few hours).

We also settled, in a lovely cafe in Piazza Marriott, across from the palazzo of the governor of Novara. I ordered a pear, Gorgonzola, and pecan pizza. It was so large I took some home with me. No rush, no English spoken within earshot, no worries. I felt once again, truly lost in Italian culture . Novara was not a tourist town. There were no busloads of retirees on holiday crowding the streets. There were no lines or entry tickets. Most places that may have drawn tourists were closed. Novara was a working town…dependable….bustling…quirky…solid….interesting, … A place that is not unwelcoming, but has no need to impress. It was a town that this show-me state girl could appreciate. If it weren’t for the fabulous architecture and the food, I could almost pretend I was in a Missouri college town. (I know, Mizzou grads….Shakespeares pizza is very good….but it is not in the same league. Ditto the columns…..Trust me on this one.)

After a long lunch, we slowly made our way back to the parking lot on the fringes of the city center. A friendly man greeted us as we paid for our parking. The gps routed us in a different direction out of town and we came home through farm country. It seemed at Novara has more in common with Missouri than I thought. I just wish we had all those wonderful cheese factories in addition to pig farms and corn fields.