It would seem I haven’t done enough to take advantage of the convenience of the trains to inexpensively and conveniently explore my new home. This point was made abundantly clear on Saturday when I stepped off the train in Jesì, thirty minutes after I boarded it in Ancona. About 30 minutes away in the direction of Rome, it turned out to be a cool little place and the ticket was only €2.00. What a deal. Thanks trenitalia!
The plan was to meet Valentina and Giordano at 7.00 when we would then drive to Fabriano for the night’s festivities. Jesì made for a convenient place to meet, being on the way to Fabriano and central to both Osimo where they live and Ancona. Jesì has been around in one form or another since the second century A.D. and as a result of the sprawl of time you get to walk through Italian suburbs for about ten minutes from the train station in order to reach the historic district. The “old” part of town is built on a hill and the walls built to ward off Mongols, Brazilians and other invaders are still visible although now they support apartments instead of vats of scalding oil. I though it must be something to live in one of these apartments. Although with anything, after a time you probably start to take it for granted.
The streets must be hundreds of years old and they are all made from stones which make an interesting slapping sound as the tires of cars pass across them. And the houses and buildings have probably been continuously inhabited for just as long (philosophical question: what came first, the house or the street), some having been preserved and updated with clean, new bricks and others looking like not a thing has been done since the original laborers schlepped the bricks into place.
One of my secret thrills is when walking along a sidewalk I am lucky enough to catch a glimpse through the entrance doors of a building. These doors are usually massive wood things, fifteen or more feet tall, double width – probably designed originally to allow a horse and cart through – and while the exterior of the buildings usually suggest age and neglect, the stolen glimpse often reveals a cool, classic marble hallway or an inner courtyard garden, immaculately maintained and full of flowers and other greenery. It’s so mysterious and private that to see it feels a little wrong yet thrilling, like stealing a piece of candy.
After wandering aimlessly for about an hour (textbook aimless wandering I might add), I wandered, with aim this time, into the main piazza. The area is closed to cars each Saturday and the people take over the streets. This is every Saturday, in the central part of town. People, not cars, take priority and it’s not just on a few, negotiated weekends per year. This being Italy however, the occasional driver still insists on making their way through the masses on an errand of national importance that precludes them from following the closure, but no one seems to mind that much and it’s like the parting of the Red Sea as the car inches its way through the crowd.
Along the edge of the square I found a nice bar, bought a couple slices of pizza and a beer and sat back to enjoy another one of those “just sitting in a piazza in Italy having a beer” moments. It was sunny and warm with a slight breeze, there was an abundance of people watching opportunity and I admit I’ve developed an affinity for this type of tourism – sans goal, sans intent (sans underwear?), just appreciation and passive participation. I’m acutely aware though that not being faced with a two week holiday deadline to fit in sixteen cities affords me the luxury to actively pursue this slothfulness and it’s another reason why I’m glad I made the decision to give this a go for a bit. As seven neared I paid the bill and walked back to the station where I met Giordano and Valentina and we made our way to Fabriano, another hour towards Rome.
Fabriano is an industrial town at the center of the bathroom and kitchen appliances industries of Italy. There is also a famous paper mill that makes the paper used to print Euros. While renowned for industry, its reputation for culture is somewhat less so. At least it was until a couple years ago when the daughter (or wife, or mistress, again I’m hazy on the specifics) of a wealthy industrialist in town decided the reputation of Fabriano needed polishing and the elbow grease would be a three-day poetry/art/music festival each year called Poiesis.
Well there is now quite the cultural sheen to the city, at least for one long weekend during the year. And the marquee attraction this year, and the reason for our little excursion, was a free concert by Sinead O’Connor in the main square.
Our joining Valentina for this concert had been in doubt up until the day before because the Champions League final featuring Intern vs. Bayern was the same night and there was no way we were going to miss it. The concert organizers and Sinead’s people must have made the same connection because the concert was scheduled to start at 11.00 which would be just minutes after the match ended. Valentina had booked a table at the Tanning Pub (check them out on Facebook!), an “authentic British pub” in the heart of historic Fabriano. There were plenty of TVs, no Peroni in site thank goodness, and an entire page of hamburgers to choose from in the menu. We were set. The Champion’s League final is a big deal and whichever team won would win the treble for the first time in their club’s history; the bar was packed and rowdy, actually rowdy which is not typical in my experience. One table packed air horns which they fired as the spirit moved them which was often. Another table had regular horns and the rest of the crowd had strong opinions and a desire to share. For me, there was a double cheeseburger on the menu that I just had to try.
It was really good. Except. No mustard. When I asked for it the waitress said they didn't have any and that I was the first person to have ever requested it, go figure. Or pickles. Oh well. Intern won, the crowd went crazy, tumbling out of the bar to sing and celebrate.
And for us, we headed to the concert and arrived just as it began. Even though there was a huge number of people there, most of the crowd was there just to be there so we easily made our way to near the front of the stage. Ms. O’Connor has aged since her Pope picture tearing days but her voice is still just as amazing.
She performed an acoustic set and combined with a very impressive light show and the historic setting it was quite impressive.
It’s debatable whether this should be classified as a highlight or lowlight, but just as she began her encore, the earlier mentioned Intern fans, a few hundred strong, arrived in the square to celebrate. Between the chanting, singing, horns, cheering and the flares, it raised quite a ruckus and she ceded the moment to them gracefully. And just as gracefully we headed back to the car for our drive back to Ancona.
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