When I planned this research trip – I mean, really planned it, not just thought about it with trepidation – I made sure that both the hotels I booked had free wi-fi. I saw myself blogging every night, setting up my next day’s research on online catalogues; skyping with the kids and generally carrying on much as I do at home. But no – I arrive in Ferrara, and lo and behold, my computer can see the hotel’s network but only one programme (the one that monitors but does not operate my POP email account) can use it. Go figure.
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.
Nonetheless, the walking is a pleasure, especially when there’s nothing else to do because the archives have closed for the afternoon. Strolling (well, hobbling) down to the convent of Sant’Antonio in Polesine with Sacred Hearts, Secret Music in my ears – yes, I do listen to it, a lot – I started really to understand why nuns’ choirs would be such an asset to the city. I think it has something to do with the impression of altitude, something to lift the soul up and over the morass of dark alleyways and fetid sewers. Boys’ voices haven’t the strength to bear you; women’s have the power and depth to envelop you whole and transport you safely, even if your aching feet are most firmly pounding the cobblestones.