With only one more day to spend with the siblings in Italy, we decided to head to Turin (Torino). This often overlooked town was the capitol of the Northern Roman Empire and the domain of the Savoy dynasty. There are more palaces in and around Turin than you will find in entire countries. The Palazzo Reale and museum are the Crown Jewels of Savoy holdings so we first headed there.

The autostrada allowed us to make the trip in just over an hour, and traffic into Turin was light. We lucked into an open parking garage adjacent to the palace complex. Aside from the very tight turns into the garage and the fact that we all had to exit the vehicle before my brother pulled into the tiny space, it was an uneventful trip.

The palace was magnificent. However, Turin unlike most Italian cities doesn’t seem to really want or even like tourists. There was almost no signs, maps or guides. When available, signage was in Italian only (which is fine by me, I am after all the foreigner in their midst). If you asked a ticket taker a question you were met with a scowl. No matter. I ordered dua biglietto and we marched on. Crabbiness could not ruin our day.

The rooms of the palace were fully furnished. We saw dining rooms, meeting rooms, and throne rooms. Each room contained priceless paintings, tapestries and frescoes. The ceilings wereall elaborately painted and usually done up in themes.

Eventually we reached the armory, where we encountered an abundance of medieval weapons and armor. Horses held riders decked out for battle. There were axes and shields. Swords and bows. Daggers and guns. There was Italian, German, Ottoman, and Turkish weapons. Many of the items were new to me….and I have been in a lot of military museums. I still get a little rush of excitement when I see something I have read about for the first time. This time it was the jousting and sparring equipment used to train young pages hoping to become knights.

After the palace rooms, we visited the chapel Reale, which housed the shroud of Turin on its altar until the 1970’s. The round marble chapel was magnificent with a golden sunburst altarpiece. In each alcove of the round chapel, a giant marble statue marked a grave. The chapel opened onto the larger church of the Duomo di San Giovanni. Parishioners could have looked upward into the chapel toward the holy shroud.

Just when we thought we were done with the palace complex, we came to endless museum galleries containing masterpiece after masterpiece. While the collection was of mainly religious art, it also had portraits and landscapes from across Italian. Raphael’s Venus showed up in a practice painting done before his larger and more famous “Birth of Venus” fresco. There were Rembrandt and Vermeer paintings. We saw Caravaggio and Ferrari. Each piece was exquisite and captivating. Centuries old, the paints were vivid and looked as if the painter had just finished the piece and walked away minutes ago.

Further along we encountered Roman statues, funerary pieces, Grecian Urns, and other antiquities. I was surprised to find several relics from the cult of Isis. Another encounter with book knowledge made real with access to artifacts.

Worn out, we set out to find food. The waiter chased us away from the back door, so we walked around the castle wall to the front door. We entered only to be ignored. We walked further in to find a table only to be ignored. The waiter scowled and told us not to block the aisle. The woman at the front told us we could order to go. I approached the person who appeared to be in charge and he agreed to seat us. I sat while he cleared the table and began to look at the menu. The water began to fuss that there were not enough chairs (one short). I saw three empty chairs and was not concerned about procuring a fifth chair. Meanwhile the men in our party decided we could eat outside.

So I had to leave my warm seat in the nice restaurant for a plastic chair in the damp cold air. Once we were seated outside, the same cranky waiter became all smiles. He was from Iran and he loves Americans. He said he wants to leave Turin because the people are grumpy and unfriendly. He made a show of serving us with violas and aloras. He poured extra wine and gushed over our food choice.

I was freezing, so the coffee seemed like a great idea to wash down my lunch of local cheese and honey. I was still a little unhappy about eating outside on a cold rainy day. I was the grumpy one throughout lunch thinking of other times we have travelled and I miss my restaurant of choice because there is nothing my husband will eat or it is too crowded or too expensive. I had to check myself and instead enjoy good food and good company between my shivers.

There were more things to see, so we collected our things and left the palace. We walked across the soggy plaza to the Madama Palace. The ticket taker was rude. I bought tickets. My brother did the same. My sister in law went last and got confused as to which ticket to buy. I returned to see if I could help. I held up my ticket and asked if it got us in all the rooms. The ticket taker slammed down her hand, rolled her eyes and moaned “I already sold to you.” I assertively asked for one more ticket and she loudly groaned. Ahh Torino.

The Madama palace has been turned into eclectic museum space. Most of the museum was full of ancient treasure, but there were weird and out of place exhibits within some galleries. Rooms with gilded ceilings held exhibitions on: the finance police, the sea, science, random topics, and modern art. I was looking at a medieval painting in a period room and turned and turned to a neon science center style exhibit under an elaborate fresco ceiling. There was no warning for the abrupt change in venue.

I loved the intricate wood carving, saved from otherwise destroyed churches. The world wars were destructive, but thankfully many pieces were saved. The Byzantine altarpieces in gold leaf and enamel were much brighter than I realized. A art restorer must never be without work in Italy.

One fascinating aspect of the museum was its collection of miniature paintings. Lockets, watches, and pocket pictures from preserved a time before photographs. In this era, you commissioned an artist to paint your likeness for loved ones. You could pay more to look better.

I don’t know how it is possible to make such an accurate likeness in such a small surface. The best piece was a belt in which the bridal portraits were embedded in the buckle.

We realized that we had spent almost six hours in the museums. It was time to head back home. Still, we couldn’t leave without a trip up and down the grand staircase. We said our farewells and exited the palace. The guards looked at us without expression, even as I wished them Buena Sera. I guess they weren’t as taken with us as we were with their palace.