While Gigia may have suffered the indignity of being barred from Albano Terme’s thermal baths (those two “horrific” car hours of forced relaxation), the province of Padova offered richer consolations. This is a land where Arquà Petrarca’s legendary jujubes – some of the only ones grown outside China – dangle temptingly from branches, where Piazzola sul Brenta’s sprawling antique market displays its wares with feline-toppable precision, and where Montagnana’s prosciutto-filled alleyways practically beg for royal inspection. From the Euganean Hills’ vineyard-laced slopes to the Renaissance villas along the Brenta Canal, every corner presents new opportunities for mischief and conquest. The local cats may not realize it yet, but between the thermal waters that reject her and the jujubes that await her tasting, Padova province has already been marked for future annexation. After all, what self-respecting queen could resist a territory that pairs UNESCO sites with such conveniently placed sunbeams?
Arquà Petrarca (PD)
Arquà Petrarca (PD)
Officially named after the poet Francesco Petrarca, this quaint village should really be called the Village of Jujubes—those sweet, crisp fruits that are the true stars of the show. (Move over, Petrarch, there’s a new muse in town.)
For me, jujubes are the stuff of dreams. Fresh ones? I can devour them by the bucketful, their juicy crunch a symphony of sweetness. Dried jujubes may be a treasure trove of health benefits, revered in traditional Chinese medicine and sprinkled into soups, teas, and desserts like edible confetti—but during the annual Jujubes Festival in Arquà Petrarca, it’s all about the fresh ones. Stalls overflow with piles of these ruby-red gems, their glossy skins catching the sunlight like tiny jewels. The air is thick with their honeyed scent, and the streets buzz with the sound of people crunching their way through the festivities.
Gigia, however, had her own approach to the celebrations. As an agile cat, she could have weaved through the crowds, but let’s be real—she’s more of a “queen surveying her kingdom” type. Perched high on human shoulders, she observed the chaos from her lofty throne, her tail flicking with regal indifference. From her vantage point, she watched the jujube-fueled merriments with an air of dignified approval, as if to say, “I’ll allow it.”
So, while the village may honor a poet, for me, it’s the Village of Jujubes—a place where fresh fruit, cobblestone charm, and Gigia’s royal presence come together in perfect harmony. After all, what’s a village without a queen?
Este (PD)
Este (PD)
Este is a town with ancient roots, a delightful blend of history and charm that could make even the most jaded traveler swoon. It’s got everything: a majestic medieval castle that looks like it’s straight out of a fairy tale (or a cat’s daydream of ruling a kingdom), Roman ruins that whisper tales of the past (probably about how even ancient Romans couldn’t resist a good nap in the sun), and vibrant ceramics that are so beautiful you’ll want to take them all home (but don’t—Gigia tried, and let’s just say her paws weren’t designed for delicate pottery).
Oh, and let’s not forget the cherry festivals—where the town comes alive with color, sweetness, and enough cherry-themed treats to make you wonder if you’ve stumbled into a fruit lover’s paradise. (Gigia, however, was more interested in the cherry pits. Don’t ask.)
But the real drama of Este unfolded in a charming little bookstore. Gigia, ever the socialite, spotted a local feline lounging near a stack of books like it owned the place (which, let’s be honest, it probably did). Instantly intrigued, Gigia strutted over with all the confidence of a cat who knows she’s the star of the show. Tail high, whiskers twitching, she delivered her best “hello, darling” look, ready to make a new friend.
The problem? The bookstore cat was having none of it. Instead of a warm welcome, Gigia was met with a low, warning hiss—the kind that could curdle milk and shatter glass. She tilted her head, blinking slowly in what she thought was the universal cat language for “let’s be pals.” But the bookstore cat couldn’t be bothered. It was too busy being the literary critic of Gigia’s social skills. Defeated? Embarrassed? Confused? Gigia flopped down in submission, as if to say, “Fine, you win this round. But I’m still the star of my own book.”
It was a blow to her ego, to say the least. Here she was, a worldly traveler with a penchant for charm, being rejected by a bookstore cat who clearly hadn’t read the chapter on hospitality. Meanwhile, the store owner, Sernella, played the role of feline diplomat, trying to patch things up with soothing words and the occasional treat. I, on the other hand, stood in the background, fully engrossed in the cat show unfolding before me. Forget the books—this was the real drama. I silently rooted for Gigia (while also hoping the hissing wouldn’t escalate into a full-blown cat fight).
On the bright side, Este also gifted us a lovely food shop brimming with local produce. I loaded up on jujubes (because, of course), while Gigia sniffed disdainfully at the cherries, still nursing her wounded pride.
So, while Este may be known for its history and ceramics, for us, it’ll always be remembered as the town where Gigia’s charm failed her—but where the jujubes (and my shopping bags) came out victorious.
Monselice (PD)
Monselice (PD)
A town steeped in history, Monselice is a captivating blend of medieval streets and a majestic castle that seems to guard its timeless charm. It’s famous for its wines, ancient walls, and a general air of “we’ve been here since forever, and we’re fabulous.” But Gigia? She had her own agenda—and it didn’t involve sipping vino or admiring architecture. No, her fascination was with the floating waters near the Pescheria bridge, where she prowled way too close to the river’s edge like a daredevil auditioning for a feline action movie.
The parapet was made of thick, wide stones, so she wasn’t exactly balancing—but that didn’t stop her from strutting along the very edge, her tail flicking with the confidence of a cat who’s never heard the phrase “safety first.” Every step she took had me mentally rehearsing my “cat rescue” plan, which involved a lot of flailing and probably yelling something like, “Gigia, nooo!” Meanwhile, she casually ignored my panic, probably thinking, “Relax, human. I’ve got this. Also, why are you so dramatic?” It was like watching a nature documentary where the narrator whispers, “Will she make it?!” except the star was my cat, and the stakes were my sanity.
Monselice may be celebrated for its history and flavors, but for me, it’ll always be the place where Gigia turned a leisurely stroll into a heart-pounding adventure. Who needs wine tastings when you can have a full-blown adrenaline rush courtesy of a cat with a flair for the dramatic and a complete disregard for personal safety?
Montagnana (PD)
Montagnana (PD)
Celebrated for its prosciutto that rivals even Parma’s, Montagnana is a town that knows how to put on a show. Its crown jewel is the Paglia dei 10 Comuni, a vibrant festival that brings the town to life with medieval reenactments, colorful parades, and bustling markets overflowing with local crafts and delicacies. We were here for this grand spectacle, ready to soak in the history, the flavours, and the sheer joy of it all—under the bright midday sun, no less.
Gigia, however, had her own plans. At first, she watched the festivities with wide, surprised eyes, as if wondering why no one had consulted her on the event planning. But it wasn’t long before she decided to take matters into her own paws. Strutting through the Piazza Maggiore and past the Duomo di Santa Maria Assunta, she moved like she was the guest of honour—tail high, whiskers twitching, and a look that said, “Yes, I belong here.”
The Paglia may have been the star of the show, but with Gigia around, it felt more like her personal red carpet. Under the golden sunlight, she paraded past medieval knights, flag throwers, and market stalls, her regal demeanour earning her more attention than the festival itself. At one point, I swear I saw a vendor offer her a slice of prosciutto, which she accepted with the grace of a queen accepting tribute.
Montagnana may be famous for its ham and history, but for us, it’ll always be the place where Gigia turned a grand daytime festival into her own personal stage. After all, why blend in when you can steal the show?
Padova
Padova
Padova deserves several volumes, but we’re here to talk about Gigia’s experiences—because let’s face it, the city’s real star is a cat with a penchant for croissants and drama. This is a city of art, learning, and enough espresso to fuel a small army (or one very hyperactive tourist). It’s home to the Scrovegni Chapel, where Giotto’s frescoes make even the most distracted tourist stop and stare, and one of the world’s oldest universities, where students have been pulling all-nighters since the 13th century. (Fun fact: The first all-nighter was probably fueled by medieval espresso. Probably.)
Padova is also famous for its aperitivo tradition, because nothing says “higher education” like a spritz at sunset. But Gigia? She’s more of a “croissant at any hour” kind of cat. Given its proximity to home, she’s a regular here, and she’s experienced the city in all its glory. She once graced a 3-Michelin-starred restaurant with her presence, lounging like a feline dignitary at a state banquet. The waitstaff, clearly recognizing royalty, treated her with the reverence she deserved. (I, on the other hand, was just there to bask in her reflected glory.)
But Gigia isn’t just about the high life. Ever the down-to-earth queen, she’s just as happy at Bakery & Bistro Biasetto, casually nibbling on a croissant as if it were the most natural throne accessory. Because whether it’s a Michelin-starred masterpiece or a humble pastry, Gigia knows how to turn every moment into a purr-fectly regal affair.
Of course, not every Padova adventure went according to plan. At the Giardini dell’Arena, Gigia encountered two other cats traveling in backpacks—a modern twist on feline exploration that she found both intriguing and slightly offensive. (“Backpacks? Really? I prefer to travel on a human shoulder, thank you very much.”) Ever the socialite, she approached with her usual charm, ready to make new friends. The problem? The backpack cats were not impressed. They rejected her friendly advances with the kind of aloofness only cats can muster, leaving Gigia to wonder if she’d lost her touch. (Spoiler: She hadn’t. They were just jealous of her impeccable fur and undeniable charisma.)
Padova may be a city of art and learning, but for Gigia, it’s just another stage for her endless charm. Whether she’s lounging in luxury, nibbling on pastries, or navigating the complexities of cat social dynamics, she does it with the grace of a queen who knows the world is her oyster—or, in this case, her croissant.
Others
Piazzola sul Brenta (PD
Piazzola sul Brenta
The monthly antique market in Piazza Paolo Camerini routinely outshines even the grand Villa Contarini Camerini—until Gigia makes her entrance. With the regal bearing of a Medici princess, she holds court among the stalls, her emerald gaze spotting 18th-century porcelain flaws invisible to dealers and her delicate paws testing textiles with museum-curator precision. Vendors pause their haggling when she arrives, knowing her presence alone doubles interest in their booths.
Between appraisals, Gigia retreats to the villa’s manicured lawns—her personal digestivo course—where she samples the finest grass blades with the discernment of a sommelier. The palace grounds become both her salad bar and throne room, while the market transforms into her stage: mornings spent critiquing gilded mirrors in optimal light, afternoons holding court by the silverware stall where admirers queue for petting privileges.
"They say these treasures have history," she seems to muse, batting at a vintage lace collar. "But my standards? Timeless."
Gigia’s Tip: "The southwest lawn has the sweetest grass—perfect for post-shopping nibbles."
Valsanzibio (PD)
Valsanzibio (PD)
Sometimes the best adventures happen when plans go awry. We were actually looking for another destination that day, but thanks to our tardiness (and a closed gate that clearly didn’t get the memo about our arrival), we ended up retracing our steps to the Garden of Villa Barbarigo in Valsanzibio—a place we’d stumbled upon earlier. And what a happy accident it turned out to be!
The garden, with its meticulously trimmed hedges, serene water features, and whimsical statues, was nothing short of enchanting. It was like stepping into a fairy tale, except instead of a princess, we had Gigia—a cat who clearly believes she’s the main character in every story. She strutted through the garden like she owned the place (which, let’s be honest, she probably does in her mind), pausing to play her favorite game: “Who’s the prettiest statue of all?” Spoiler: she always wins.
But the real showstopper was the black swan gliding gracefully across the pond. I was utterly mesmerized—its sleek feathers, its regal presence, its air of mystery. It was like watching a living piece of art. Gigia, however, was not impressed. She glanced at the swan, yawned, and sauntered off as if to say, “Been there, seen that, and I’m still the most majestic creature here.” Was it jealousy? Or just her way of reminding us that no bird, no matter how stunning, could steal her spotlight? Either way, it was classic Gigia.
Whether she was striking a pose next to a marble nymph (who, let’s face it, paled in comparison to Gigia’s natural elegance) or admiring her reflection in a tranquil pond (because even cats need a little self-appreciation), Gigia turned the garden into her personal stage. At one point, I swear a statue winked at her in admiration.
Valsanzibio may not have been our original destination, but with its beauty and Gigia’s antics, it turned out to be the perfect Plan B. After all, when you’re “The Institution,” even a detour becomes a royal procession. And if anyone questions why we spent the day in a garden instead of wherever we were supposed to go, we’ll just say it was all part of Gigia’s master plan. Because, really, who needs a map when you’ve got a cat with a crown?