My Air Bnb is decorated in a Futurist manner, very cool, with Industrial artifacts and 60's style furniture. #Modena is small but decidedly glamorous. It's where the daughter has chosen to study for a year. Modena is quite small and wonder what I'll do here for four days but it grows on you. It's full of colonnades in shades of rust, persimmon, saffron, lobster red. Everyone, especially the old people, are dressed to impress and so many of them are on bikes, the women in their high heels, with a perfectly groomed dog in their baskets or a collection of paper wrapped vegetables from the famous #Albinelli market. The daughter takes me there. Outside are stalls of antiques, old paintings, chandeliers. Inside, is full of wonderful late winter produce. There's delicate shell pink radicchio, curliqued; bunches of wild thin asparagus and #agretti, a marsh plant, succulent, thin, salty strands; three different types of artichoke; tomatoes from Sicily that taste as they should be, like fruit. I buy burrata from Puglia which is where the best comes from with it's thick strands of creamy centre; olive bread with big fat green olives sunken in amongst the greenish olive oil scattered over the top; I buy little bundles of chicken stuffed with pancetta, wrapped in thin fatty prosciutto, with a bay leaf on top, tied up with string; cime di rapa, a bitter green that I love and tortellini stuffed with pumpkin with a sauce made of walnuts, I tell them it's for two and they measure accordingly. I order in Italian and everyone is so friendly. I feel like a real Italian mama, except that I'm in flat shoes!
It takes me hours to cook dinner as I've only got a stove with two tiny burners, but where there's a will there's a way. We feast on fresh pasta. I make a sauce of garlic and anchovies softened in olive oil, the lightly poached agretti and breadcrumbs fried in oil, with the burrata broken up on top. It's divine. Day one in Modena.
The next day, the daughter is at Uni and is going out that night to try and make friends. Her partner has left to return to Australia, she's in her new apartment in an old palazzo in the centre and she realises she has to step out of her comfort zone. I'm alone for the day and I awake in a panic, the black dog is at my door; he's also at the door of my partner. I feel utterly numb, blurred around the edges. I miss no one and nothing of my life back home. I feel as if I have no definition, nothing calls to me. I ran away from this, thinking that the excitement of being in new territories would fling me out of it but I've dragged the threads behind me and they're getting tangled. I struggle to leave the apartment. But I think - what would an Italian woman do? She would put her lipstick on, her high heels, she would bejewel herself, wrap a scarf nonchalantly around her neck and go to the market. I couldn't even find the market today and when I finally do, I'm too scared to order. I go next door to a lovely cafe, with paintings of dogs dressed in period costumes surrounding the walls and have a macchiato and a pistachio brioche. It arrives with a shot of mineral water. I start to revive. I speak to my partner and my depression spins him out of his. He makes me laugh and I head off into the day.
I explore the beautiful shops, wander the colourful arcades. I find a woman who makes unusual jewellery and I try my bad Italian with her. The square around the Duomo is stunning, big and open, surrounded by cafes and shops, crisscrossed by bike riders very confidently making their way across the cobblestones. There is a big marble table from medieval times where the beheadings took place. The church was built in 1099 for the patron saint, St Geminiano, his remains are still there. His famous miracle was catching a child by his hair, just as he was about to fall from the tower of the church, thus saving his life.
I wander until it's Spritz time! The old and the young are heading towards the bars, so I follow them. I find a lovely bar and settle in. The Spritz delivered is huge and is accompanied by a large bowl of chips. The generosity of the Italians. Handsome old men, wrapped in coats and scarves, hold the arms of their beloved, equally beautiful women. It's a university town so there are so many bars and a lot of them have aperitivo, where you buy a drink and there's a buffet included. It's also a non tourist town so I feel I am getting the full Modenese experience.
I'm on my own tonight, so after I sober up, I find a trattoria with a waiter who shows me to my table, he has the palest blue eyes, perfectly peppered grey hair and his job is his life,and in Italy, it's an admirable profession. He suggests the funghi risotto and a small carafe of wine. I'm served buttery soft spinach and the fragrance of the funghi precedes the arrival of the dish. The daughter lets me know she is heading out to party some more with the girls from Australia; they've met some others and suddenly everything settles into perspective, bordered by hope. The anxiety has lifted somewhat, the daughter seems to be settling in and I'm slightly inebriated. All is well in the world.
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