So today I was a tourist, and it was market day in Ferrara. It was really foggy when I left the hotel in the morning, and the city seemed completely different. I love the idea of markets being held in exactly the same place for hundreds of years, even if the stuff on sale is different. The temptation to buy is difficult to resist, but in the end my major purchase was an outrageously expensive pair of woolly clogs that are supposed to be really good for your back. Not a moment too soon, as I’m getting to the point at which the pain of walking for more than a couple of hours is unbearable. And they really work! Money well spent.

But back to the day’s discoveries. Didn’t find out much new at the Palazzo Schifanoia, although it was as impressive as I thought it would be. Leonora Sanvitale lived there after she came to Ferrara, and delightful it must have been. There were some lovely 15th cen. antiphonals on display, and I was surprised how clear the notation was. Much easier than Solesmnes – give me an old-fashioned illuminated manuscript any time. Then on to the Palazzino of Marfisa d’Este. Now this was impressive. The whole house was kitted out with 15th and 16th century furniture, and the wall paintings were incredibly well preserved. And I was surprised/pleased to learn, via a placque on the wall on the other side of the road, that it was literally next door to the now-destroyed convent of San Bernardino, where the nuns were to be punished in the refectory if they sang polyphony without a license. (‘Scuse me, madam, can I see your polyphony license? No? Well, you know the penalty’s a week’s worth of meals off the floor. Shouldn’t have been singing then, should you, Madam?) Maybe Marfisa enjoyed Vespers there – wouldn’t surprise me.

Missed the National Gallery, though… again. Maybe I can whizz round it on Sunday morning before I go. But if I could, I’d just like to go back to Marfisa’s gaff – I’m a complete sucker for Renaissance gardens that have been left to go slightly to seed. Invariably you find yourself treading on marjoram and wild strawberries. And it had an orangery with a little loggia next to it – on the ceiling were these rockin’ putti, each with a different instrument in its chubby little hands. Hmm, wonder what happened there?

Had thought about returning to the Biblioteca Ariostea, if only because I really liked the look of all those old vellum-bound books. But I found it kinda creepy trying to study with a dead dude in the corner (Ludovico Ariosto is buried IN THE LIBRARY! On the second floor!!), although come to think of it, it’s not completely different to being in the old BL Manuscript Room. So instead, I’ve been resting for most of the afternoon, as I’ve hardly got any sleep for the last two nights. On that subject, the bed is now sprayed, and I have been given full instructions on how to avoid Ferrara’s special little micro-mozzies that like to bite you all over. Phew. Not bedbugs after all. My back will need the rest, too, as I’m sure I’ll be leaving Ferrara with loads of books that I didn’t come with. Saint Augustine said, “The World is a book, and those who do not travel read only a page.” Those who do not travel don’t have to, they don’t have to shut their eyes and ears to temptation. I’ve been trying to resist, but the siren lure of the stores with cool tomes on Ferrarese dialect, or the convents that were active in the city up to the eighteenth century, is drawing me in inexorably. No, no, let me go! But like the Ferrarese fog, they just wrap themselves around you.

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