Yes there seems to be a clear aversion throughout much of Italy to toilet seats and no I have no idea why but it seems patently obvious from the fact that so many commodes in public bathrooms lack the seat. Or perhaps there is an epidemic of toilet seat thievery in Italy. In any case, this presents an odd and uncomfortable state of affairs for at least half the population, that particular half that needs to sit down on the commode, thus giving one pause to think who is it exactly who makes the rules governing the purchase of seat-less commodes in the first place (men most likely). Anyway it’s not a pretty picture in those dank, airless, half-lit closet-like rooms. Be prepared. (photo: this has nothing to do with toilets.)
There seems to be an ever-increasing amount of skin on display here in Italy, male, female, young or old, it doesn’t seem to matter. Lest you think I’m talking only about women and only about their midriffs or the “double cleavage” look that has become popularized among young females throughout the world, the male side of the population is not to be left out here. Clearly things are changing, at least as far as styles and perceptions of formality go: five years ago one would have hardly ever seen an Italian male in his 40s or 50s in shorts. Now they are everywhere. Of course the weather plays a part here; with temps in the 90s and above it is no wonder that so many people are wearing less fabric on their bodies. Still perceptions of formality and the attending relationships must be changing right before our eyes.
Saturday was a fairly typical July day: sunny and hot, real hot. But that didn’t stop us from getting out of town and take a short day trip south to the land of wafting breezes; sweet zephyrs blowing throw the clean, cobbled streets strung out along and atop three sharply defined hills. That’s right I’m talking about Siena.
Susan and I walked over to the bus station – on via Santa Caterina di Siena (rather coincidental don’t you think) and while I ran inside the office and grabbed a pair of tickets (“andata e ritorno”, round trip) Susan got aboard the bus and grabbed two seats. Which as it turns out was a smart move since it was standing room only. We sat and waited in an airless bus, packed like the proverbial sardines, for about 10 minutes when the driver shut the luggage compartment doors, got on board and turned on the air conditioning. And we were off.
After a quick trip of about 75 minutes we stepped off the bus on the Piazza Gramsci in Siena and then strolled over to Via di Citta which of course led us to our favorite café, the “Quattro Cantoni” (Four Corners) where we had a “caffe” of course. We then paid a quick visit to Lisa at the bookshop around the corner. We had noticed a significant change in personnel at QC and Lisa informed us that in fact the business had recently changed hands. Things change. (“Cose cambiano.”)
We left the bookshop and strolled back down Via di Citta where a pair of musicians were playing in front of the Chigi palazzo, down to the Piazza del Campo, and what a view – we still do not tire of this fantastic place to hang your emotions and let your mind slide sideways for at least a few moments. Since we were returning to Siena between the two Palios (July 2 and August 16), we didn’t know what to expect to see on the Piazza: although one could still see some of the dirt between the stones on the Piazza the grandstands were gone, at least for the moment. Undoubtedly leaving the bleachers in place would have cut into tourist traffic in a really big way so I suppose they had no choice but to pull them up and then turn around and bring them right back again in the next few weeks.
We strolled around the edge of the Campo and headed up Casato di Sotto just a few meters away and to the Cantina in Piazza where we met up with our friends Aimone and Alessandra. We had hoped to see them and chat a bit – and talk we did. For about three and a half hours we talked about food, wine, Paris, life, death and a myriad of other things relevant to the human experience, all over a wonderful lunch taken next door.
At last it came time to say goodbye; but it seemed as if that simply wasn’t going to happen – indeed we might still be standing there in the enoteca talking about one thing or another, with no one able to say the final last goodbye, which signals the moment of actual departure. But at last we left them waving and standing in the doorway of the enoteca as we strolled back toward the Campo, skirting its edge, staying in the shade, and passed through one of the exits.
As we did Susan heard the most extraordinary thing from an Italian (?) couple passing us going down the steps into the Piazza. All she heard were two words: “Roberto Bechi”. That’s it. Now we had hoped to meet up with Patti and Roberto Bechi, friends from nearby Asciano, sometime before our departure from Italy and had discussed numerous ways to try and make headway on our Tuscan Voices interview project but our schedules just never seemed to come together. In fact Patti and I had recently been in email contact over trying to set up some last-minute 11th-hour date and time to do some voiceover work but what with one thing or another it wasn’t going to work out. And then we pass two strangers in Siena when we hear one speak Roberto’s name.
Now that is strange, and indeed I suspect it is more than mere coincidence. But then perhaps we’ve become overly influenced by the attention the Etruscans (and then the Romans and probably modern Italians) gave to such moments of serendipity. Who is to say that some manner of doing a thing, or a way of viewing a thing, isn’t handed down from generation to generation. For example, I’ve often been amazed at the great fondness Tuscans have for anything liver-based in their cuisine; they have so many varying ways of preparing liver and they seem to adore a wide variety of liver: rabbit, pig, beef, whatever.
Now is it just a coincidence that the Etruscans were world famous “hasruspices”, that is well known for their consummate skill at reading the entrails of animals, and the liver in particular?
I don’t know but I just love to think about it, don’t you?
Wish you were here,
Steve
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