Provincial complaints

She left, my girlfriend, went to Italy, to the country where he had a childhood. Settled with parents in the small town of Forli. First just lived, then began to teach our and literature at the university. And all the time I gone to me letters, which, being a philologist by education, composed not ababa as, but as if foreseen that sooner or later I will ask for permission to print their fragments.

Now I know what to be for "Iron curtain" and in the enemy ring. The iron curtain is forlian orders, and enemies – postmen. At first I thought that all my friends and friends for some reason I was having funny and my posting letters, not reading, thrown into the paper basket. Then I began to send a dad to the central telegraph, so he pounded his fists. Success it was not faced, since the offended clerks said that their office had two thousand years (or so), and this is the first complaint about their work. Then, fortunately, the father of the colleague-Forkyka came to visit us, which I opened my scary suspicions. The lady, not to mention the word, went out into the street, examined the mailbox and, loudly laughing, said: "Well what do you want! You are not written on the mailbox the last name, and without this, we do not throw mail in the box!" However, you can imagine?! If you write on envelope "Forli. Grandfather Konstantin Makarovich", grandfather will have more chances to get a letter than if instead "D. TO. M." will stand the address. This is in my head stacked bad. This is not formalism, it is Shiz. Well, ass: first, the whole street, naturally, knows that Russi settled here (and the postalone, undoubtedly knows everyone and could ask, seeing foreign surname on the envelope), secondly, well, alone or two letters came at the wrong address, but I already know about five (!) sent by our mail "Rusty": Two to Moscow, one in Jerusalem, one thing – in London. Tell me: it’s fine? And do not think that this is some special case. So the brain for Thills is working. No wonder they pay 100% taxes.

To really say, Italy tires me. If necessary, I part with it without a shadow of regret. With the exception of several friends and acquaintances, Italians – wild southern people with all the ensuing. They are very noisy, gesticulating without the end, dense fantastic. I can’t pull "foreigners", But, unfortunately, none of them lives in Forli, they only come for lessons. It also affects the fact that our district center forli (it is referred to "Head of Romagna Province") – The city is small, not very cultured, inhabited mainly by the shopkeepers. Word "Laureate" (T. E. a man with higher education) makes them roll their eyes and praying their hands. Application "Last year in December I was in New York" believe not stronger than a message about landing under Forli UFO. Stories about the subway have to be illustrated by faith and gestures ("Here is such a width, here is such a embroidery"), and Fillians are incredulously smiling and swing their heads. Message "In Moscow, 10 stations and 4 airports" Man can offend. Everything that is south of the Apennine Mountains (including Rome) is as for the ancient Arabs Cafe and Bird Rohch, her inhabiting. But, on the other hand, things are influenced from such patriotism. Last week, for example, we went to dine in the restaurant "Fox and grapes", and there sits Tonino Guerra and eats. He lives here next. Everyone knows him, and it does not need to him or Rome nor New York.

During Moscow frosts, an article of the following content appeared here in the solid newspaper. In Moscow, they say, there are such cold that many citizens, coming out in the morning of the house, do not fall to work, because they fall on the road and freeze. But "Special services" Raise and pumped only children, and there is not enough for adults and money. Familiar came to horror turned to us for clarification. I had to clarify that Italian journalists are large specialists in the field of football and private life "star", In other questions – when as.

I see if, fell in love in early January. In this German. Not in some thick bavar or a raised square, but in the real Northern German from the city of Hannover. German This is typical "Blond Bestiya" with blue eyes. Do not laugh; I already have a neotod, I can afford a blonde. So, my German (who is now sitting in his Doychland) almost every week send me letters, reminiscent of the parcels of the average. In addition to the native, he perfectly owns Italian and English. When he lacks words of foreign languages ​​to express some shade of feeling or thought, he leads German idioms or whole styles of poems of lines of twelve, but, unfortunately, sometimes forgets to translate them.

I can not convey to you, what a huge intellectual and sensual pleasure I get from these letters. Here, mainly, the contrast with semi-arms and dense Italians. I already think that I live somewhere in Central Africa and now I get letters from the fellow. By the way, here in Italy is held now "Holiday book" (I dubbed it "Tangle week"), during which all books are sold at a discount of 10%. so what? Though 50%. Who is interesting? Youth about 25 years read only comics (swear!) Type "Ken Warrier" or "John – Thunderstorm Martian", After 25 – newspapers and sports magazines. Naturally, it cannot but affect speech and manners. Still remained, of course, the aesthetes, but I am afraid that the shifts worthy of them will not.

Now I was very laughing TV: in the news they spoke something about the culture, and I hear the story of the announcer: "Here is Verona, here is the house where the Juliet Kapulenti was born on December 10, 1824. " Italians – Charm! I noticed another interesting detail: they absolutely do not use words with the root "esthete". Do not pronounce words "aesthetics", "aesthetic", "Estette". Obviously, these words are incomprehensible to them: after all, they are born with it and live all their lives. The only word, they know, is Estetista, t. E. Hairdresser or makeup artist (about our stylist).

Pope and I decided to still find and see the Rubicon River, which was supposed to be somewhere near. She really flows nearby – 10 minutes away by train. On average, Rubicon River reaches a width of about 2.5 meters. We arrived in the rain, so Rubicon River was bubbled and foaming, carrying her muddy yellow streams in the Adriatic (communication with the Germans does not pass for anyone). Aborigines (the case occurred in Savignano-on-Rubicon settlement) have a very vague idea of ​​the historical role of their river, but this is a common phenomenon. When I asked in the bar, do they have postcards with the type of Rubicon River, the audience was terribly surprised. Only one visitor understood my feelings and said that in about 50s, Julius Caesar on a white horse was depicted on the curtain of the local DramaTheater, but the curtain burned down, and the Associations from the aborigines disappeared. Sad, gentlemen! Directly across the river, the stone bridge is transferred, very old, if not an ancient, on parapets of which signs are hanging with quotes from Dante and "Other favorite authors", which nobody reads. That’s all. There are no such indispensable establishments for tourists-boobs like a restaurant "At Caesar". Yes there and tourists do not happen.

Route number two – in the village of Predappio (Predappio). Humanity would not know anything about her if the dead was born there. Village from us is kilometers at 15. Ancient and mountainous. At the very beginning we visited the family crypt Mussolini, which is open to the public. There even lies the book entry for visitors. I did not read it. Simultaneously with us, two Nazi went down to the crypt – young people, one of which cried from happiness and tried to kiss the tombstone itself. On the tombstone – the monstrous socially realistic bust of Benito. Candles. At the input and output – two signs with quotes. There are still a man ten of this family, as well as his wife. As you know, all recently he hanging out with Clara Petachchi, with whom he was shot in Milan, after which the body was stolen by admirers, brought to their homeland and buried. So, legitimate his wife is Donna Raquel, with which he practically did not live. And the woman she was good, and in the village about her still keep good memory. I must say that local belongs to all this story correctly. They do not spill nostalgic tears (I know for sure. Maybe a little bit proud that their modest village can produce great people. They agree that the first experience was not quite successful that "Benito – he was already a chalop", But maybe, another time they are lucky). But do not intend to forget. They simply tell the story, as they remember themselves. And without hysteria.

Then we saw where he lived in childhood, where he studied, married and spent the first meetings of the fascists. (Another curious detail: on the main square is a cubic building building built for meetings of the party in six. Great. So, since 1945, this building stands completely empty, although even glasses in it are intact. Nobody, no stores, no bars, nor private persons wanted to accommodate it, do not want now. Local said that they were taught simply not to see this building – as if the waste was there. Imagine?!) We also saw the church where he was baptized (Church of St. Kasyana – XI century!), as well as a font with a sign. Then we drank wines with spices in an ancient tavern and went to his castle. On the way passed the only one in our territories "House with the ghosts". Aborigines called Palazzo Delchdiavolo and terribly afraid. This is a red 4- or a 5-storey house with a garden, absolutely running. He has a master, but he doesn’t close to his property. Laja began there before the Second World War, although no one really knows what the matter.

One completely extraneous story, and then forget. Called "Italians and time". In February, a celebration called in Forli "Opening of the school year in Romagne". Do not be surprised, here academic life flows on another calendar. The rector of the Bologna University arrived, gathered in the town hall, the professors were put on mantle and caps. Speech began to speak. One local professor was fraught with and remembered the unique University of Bologna Rector-Formull. Started: "And remember, colleagues, what a scientist he was and fair, which introduced useful innovations?" Everything: "Yes, yes, the head was!" "And what he had a wonderful family!" "And what a wonderful character!" "A. " and T.D. Salt of this story lies in the fact that this gentleman was the rector in the 1280s, that is, 700 years ago. But he was talked as if they buried him in the year before last! But, of course, 700 years old – for the Italians. Even the ancient Romans lived, at a given opinion, not so long ago. Here are the Etruscans – yes, those – long ago. So when I ask how time the building of my institute in Bologna, I am careless answer: "Maybe the XVI century, maybe XVII, and however, who knows him. " And the ceilings in my audience are painted by frescoes on gospel plots, and called the audience – "Bottilloni" (Again, no one knows why. Well, called so 400 years ago, and for some reason no witnesses left).

We visited everything that is interesting in the district, namely: Bologna, Ravenna, Rimini, Venice, Padua, Ferrara and Florence. I send you pictures of Padua. The University of their is the second most important and antiquity after our. Falling is great in itself, in addition, the favorite Italian saint is buried there -. Anthony. Every year we have a survey of citizens -. Anthony for the third year in a row holds the first place in popularity (not kidding). It is usually going. Nikolay and St. Francis. So, in one picture – "Basilica Saint" (it is called it, because everyone knows what exactly). On the second – the actual altar with my relics. If you mentally get around it on the left, then there you will see the slab done in the altar. Putting her hand well and pray or just talk to the saints. He is a wonderful saint, Franciscan. For the Basilica, too, the Franciscan, and when I was there for the first time, one pretty young and very cheerful monk offered me "Touch" to the saint, and at this time put my hand on my shoulder and prayed for me. There is nothing solemny in this – on the contrary, the thing is quite ordinary. Italians belong to faith very light, joyful, almost in childish. Is it necessary to say that Franciscans are the brightest fraternity of Catholics. Benedictins are also very good (13 years ago I lived for three days in the Benedictine men’s monastery and I know what I’m talking about).

Ferrara as was dazzling and remained. Finally, I found the house in which Ariosto lived. Rimini this time I really liked. From strong shocks – cycling with neapolitan soldiers. Bologna and Florence – No change. Native cities.

So Ravenna is a disgrace. Write down and tell others. With the light hand of Dante (which in Ravenna is buried – we saw) the Genoese are considered the greatest. Nonsense! To the Ravennes they are far. Imagine: They, for example, take money ($ 4) for looking at a brown marble bath with a chopped edges, in which the great theodoric (VI century) was supposedly buried. "Important" places in Ravenna pieces 15, in each you need to pay $ 6-8. If folded, it turns out a lot. They thought of the paid cycling parking lots there! But, except for jokes, the treasures are equal (mosaic) are completely stunning and unique. The case when, although heard a hundred times and saw in the albums, stand there with open mouth. But Ravennitsy on the same equal to poor tourists "Did not miss". Having hungry, we went to "artistic bar", where they ate in the sandwich "Kandinsky" and on a piece of cake "De Kiriko". Sandwiches "Shagal", "Climt" and "Picasso" already ended by that time. From Ravenna, we fled without regard and gave a terrible oath that more ever. However, I hope that we will ever break her.