We flew back to Italy last Sunday, leaving early Sunday afternoon and arriving on Monday evening thanks to the nine-hour time difference. A lot of people, hearing about our transcontinental lifestyle, ask how we can bear the long flights, a concern I always wave away. I like being on a plane, untethered from phone and internet, with nothing to do but read books, watch movies, eat, and nap. This time, though, it felt like much more of a slog.
We took Turkish Air, lured by relatively low fares and raves about the food, which meant we flew first to Istanbul, stretching that first leg of the trip from 11 hours to more than 12. We also had a four-hour layover before heading back to Milan, a little longer than we usually spend in transit. But the new Istanbul airport is pretty spectacular and its huge business lounge has an amazing array of really delicious food. Danny will never forgive the airline for switching us at the last minute to seats far away from each other, but their Istanbul lounge’s mezze buffet and baklava bar left me unable to hold a grudge.
In Milan there was trouble on the autostrada, so our ride from the airport was more than an hour late. By the time we got to Fidenza it was about ten in the evening and we’d been traveling for over 24 hours.
When we arrived at our front door Eugenia, the friendly proprietor of the gelateria across the street, was just getting ready to close, but she held off so that we could say hello and get double-scoop gelato nightcaps. Danny had Eugenia’s two newest flavors, limoncello and double caramel. Feeling the need of comfort more than novelty, I enjoyed my all-time favorite combination, sour cherry and extra-dark chocolate.
Despite that sweet beginning, my first few days here were a bit gloomy, despite the warm weather and sunny skies. The truth is that I’ve had a harder time than usual adjusting to the time change, largely because I can’t seem to get myself to bed at a reasonable hour. That’s probably why initially Fidenza seemed a little dull to me, a little tired. Which is also how I felt myself.
Our apartment was full of cobwebs and dead moths, reflecting how my exhausted brain has been feeling. This—the actual insects, not the mental ones—is something I don’t remember encountering previously when we’ve returned after three months’ absence. Maybe the horrible heatwave they had here earlier this summer—temperatures as high as an uneheard-of 107 degrees—drove the critters indoors. The heat also probably explains why the plants on our balcony were all dead, except for Danny’s collection of cactus and succulents, which were only half dead.
Out on the street, the clothes in the shop windows seemed drab and lacking in flair. So did the people walking by. Was it possible that no one, literally no one, was wearing anything with rhinestones or sequins?
After a day or two, though, things began to look brighter. A meal of torta fritta, sparkling gutturnio, and gnocchi with truffles at the Antica Trattoria del Duomo lifted my mood and gave me no choice but to enjoy a restorative nap afterwards. A lighter but equally delicious lunch at Bar Teatro of grilled tuna with red onions, parsleyed potatoes, and red cabbage had a similarly bracing effect.
Then I began to notice a shiny embroidered sweater on one passerby, gold lame sandals on another. Sequins and rhinestones reappeared at the Sluts R Us dress shop next to the Strega bar. Fidenza hadn’t turned into Berkeley after all.
There’s a Verdi festival going on right now, with events all over the region. (Verdi is a local boy and is always made much of in these parts.) On Thursday evening we wemt to a lecture by conductor Stefano Giaroli on the musical and emotional language of Verdi’s breakthrough opera, Nabucco., illustrated with selections from the opera performed by several outstanding singers. The lecture was held in the beautiful recital hall above Fidenza’s Teatro Magnani, and despite my cobwebby brain I could understand quite a bit of what Maestro Giaroli was saying about the way Verdi reinvented opera by expanding its emotional range. Even though it was all in Italian.
Then soprano Federica Venturi stepped up to sing the Act 2 aria in which Abigail, the older daughter of King Nabucco, first vents murderous rage against her younger sister and then mourns her own lost innocence. It was both a stunning display of the composer’s ability to capture intense feelings in musical language and of the singer’s gorgeous, supple, and gigantic voice. Her literally spine-tingling performance left me blinking away tears.
Accompanied by pianist Simone Savina, bass Nicolo Lauteri and star baritone Marzio Giossi further delighted the audience with additional selections from the opera that underscored Giaroli’s insights about Verdi’s musical language. It was also nice to hear the speakers heap some praise on our friend Romano, who was in the audience, for his singing, his teaching, and his successful efforts to help bring opera back to the Magnani.
After that, nothing about Fidenza seemed humdrum. especially since we followed up with drinks in the piazza with Pam and Romano and our three friends who are visiting from New Mexico. The conversation was great and the street around us was full of life, with signs and posters here and there advertising all kinds of upcoming performances, exhibitions, and activities. I’m still wretchedly sleep-deprived, and the fact that I’ve stayed up until past midnight writing this blog post points to what my problem is. But if there was ever anything dull about Fidenza. the town seems to be recovering nicely. I hope I can eventually do the same.
Love this detailed and vivid tale, so full of you and your frank and astute voice
Let's hear it for nap time, the best solution to late nights and early mornings. Our father was a specialist in the "power nap."
"We see the world not as it is but as we are." Anais Nin.