Le notti di Santa Caterina…
…or so Sarah’s book is called in Italian. Over the last two days, every so often we’ve looked at each other and said, “I can’t believe this is happening,” or something similar. So many mind-bending instances that took both our experiences of Ferrara, as researchers/tourists/women, to a different level. The generosity of the Ferrarese is immense, and I have felt this when I’ve been there before, but this time I was an invited guest rather than a welcome outsider.
It seems everywhere we turned there was someone who had something new to show or tell us. As we stood in the lobby of the Ariostea, Elisabetta – one of the lovely women who welcomed us – gestured to a man bending over the catalogues and said, “This is the gardener at San Antonio in Polesine.” While I was talking to the librarians trying to find an elusive manuscript, I kept overhearing the most jaw-dropping nuggets of history that could only have been recounted by someone on the inside. And he complimented Sarah on getting her details almost completely right (one small quibble regarding the architecture, feh, but it was offered as an example of how well she really did). The next day we were strolling down the street, and Elisabetta called a fellow over and said, “Here’s the guy that knows most about the interior of Corpus Domini,” and he introduced himself as a graphics teacher in the school housed in a former wing of the convent. He’d made a DVD-rom on the artworks there, and promptly dashed off to get us a couple. The extraordinary Giuliana Berengan – author, playwright, literary activist, singer, personality – showed us around the shady but still airy fourteenth-century house where she was born and which has been in her family for centuries. We took pictures in the cloisters of San Antonio – something that is not normally allowed; we were fed specialties from the tradition of Jewish cooking in Ferrara by a woman who has done a great deal to record and conserve them. Elisabetta promised to look something up for me that I didn’t have time to pursue, and emailed me this morning with the references. All so generous, it’s really rather overwhelming.
At the session in the morning, in the courtyard of San Antonio, in front tof he President of the Provincia (finally, Elisabetta said, we have a woman as a President), chic in grey jeans and a bolero jacket, the Sindaco, a rather more traditional man, and Professoressa Berengan made a presentation to Sarah. Sarah prepared her speech in Italian, but then suddenly turned to me, and I spluttered along in a desperate and foolish way until I finally gave up and allowed Lucia Bevilacqua, the official interpreter, graciously to find the words for me. But I didn’t need her help to catch the Sindaco lauding Sarah as the next in an illustrious line of writers who have captured the soul of the city – Ariosto, Bassani, Dunant. It’s a measure of how much the city esteems the book already.
The view from my hotel window.
We had time then to think about what we have achieved (I feel slightly abashed here, but Sarah is adamant that this is all a joint effort) and we came to the conclusion that as much as we have tried to get right, there seems always more to know. But on the other hand, our distance from the culture can allow us to ask questions of the narrative that might not occur to us were we native Ferrarese.
As always, I’m sorry to come home to the wet and the cold, and Network Rail hasn’t helped the situation, making me nearly two hours later home than I would be if they could be bothered to do their job properly. But I’ll get there eventually.
So I was pleasantly surprised to find out that Ferrara’s city administration has decided to provide free wi-fi in its city centre – a group of piazzas surrounding the castle and cathedral – to anyone who signs up. Excellent! No matter if it’s slower than a slow thing on a slow day (I was about to say “than an Italian archivist’s response,” but that’s not fair as I have been granted the most helpful archivisti imaginable on this trip), it’s still a connection and it’s free. Thus, although I am writing this in the privacy of my hotel room, if it ever makes it to my blog, it will be because I have trolled my computer down into town before dinner. (Ed – and I have, so I’m uploading this from the steps of the cathedral).
But I will have to get my feet out of the bidet first. There seems to be no escaping sore feet, even this early in the trip. When I’m on a research trip I tend to walk everywhere, not just because I like taking in the city but also because it’s the only practical way to get around when you don’t understand the buses/trams and can’t/won’t afford taxis. In some ways, I’d rather be this cat, although I wonder if it is able to retain its relaxed demeanor when the car engine starts.
I'm an American-and-naturalised-British academic who tries to juggle musicology with family life, singing, extreme knitting and football. Most of the time I succeed in keeping the balls off the ground.