I got shouted at this week. In the street, by a drunk guy in his forties. And it didn't feel great. To cheer myself up I went to Turin with two people from work to see the sights and taste the chocolate. I'd never been there, but then nobody had told me that it was the home of Nutella before. Further encouragement was not needed, so I packed my tablespoon and off I went.
I could spend a lot of time in Turin. It's a city that feels like it's expecting something, and though you're not sure exactly what, why not stop for a cheeky caffè while you wait? There's a penetrating Frenchness to everything (apparently Napoleon put it on a grid system), and glimpses of the Alps down every side street give it an austerity that you don't find in the traditional storehouses of the Italian way in Florence, Rome, Bologna, Naples. But whatever love they hold back in their architecture, the Torinesi pour it into their chocolate.
At the huge chocolate festival on in the main square, I tasted a piece of what angels must eat - Cremino di Nutella. Imagine please a block the size of a box of cook's matches, made of something hard but crumbly that melts the instant it slides onto your tongue. And it tastes of Nutella.
Needless to say, I'm never eating anything else again.
It gave me such a warm, gooey feeling that I forgot all about the man shouting "Do you think I'm a fascist? Do you think I'm a piece of shit?" at me in the street in Novi.
There are some more photos of Turin here - http://500px.com/seanaajones
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