The second train from New Haven to Penn Station is about 6 or 7 cars, again quite comfortable and on time. On my laptop I watch Sokurov’s Moscow Elegy, I have never seen anything by this Russian director, I am somewhat suspicious of his fame to by mystical. I am struck by the images of Tarkosvsky in Italy that open the movie. I did not know it was a documentary. It is a paradoxical way to make my way back to Tuscany. From my backpack, I take out my three tomatoes and some pecocrino romano and have an early lunch as I watch Tonino Guerra conversing with Tarskovski. The sight of New York in the background is quite moving. As I get off, in a dustbin, I leave the knife I have been using for lunches since I got in the US. As I arrive early at the airport, it is still raining, I have a last American coffee at the Tuscany Coffee, the one nearest to the Lufthansa check in area. On all the tv screen they are showing the view from the elicopter of the place in Los Angeles where the private and family service for Michael Jackson is being held. After I check in it is instead the procession of black limousines that transports the corpse and the vips to the staples center. The commentator on CNN are amazed by the fact that the freeways have been closed for this very special convoy. The obvious comparison goes to the funerals of Elvis Presley. As I am about to board the young daughter of Michael Jackson, Paris, makes her very brief and moving speech, is she the only person with true feelings in that crowd?
As I board on the plane the speakers welcome us in German: even if I do not speak the language, I like the sound of it, and also, for reasons unclear to me, its sounds is familiar, and somehow tells me ‘welcome back home’. That’s however is the question, as an Italian song goes, la casa dov’é? At the Frankfurt airport, it is raining, I cannot resist using euros for the first time again for a cappuccino which, I know it now, stands midway between the Italian and the American ones.
As the small plane reaches the mountains, the clouds disappear, the sun is shining on the alpine lakes, some haze on the Padan Plain. I can already feel the hot July Italian sun preparing to hit me badly. Instead, south of the Po river, clouds reappear and when I land in Florence, it is warm, but it is under thirty degrees celsius, that is mild to be July.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
on the way to JFK
At 6 45 in the morning I am all ready and waiting for the taxi that will take me to Hartoford Union Station. Here I am, a week ago, as I traveled cross country, I had a car full of stuff, finally I managed to reduce everything to the original volume with which I had landed 6 months ago. It is impressive.
Hartford is one of the poorest cities in the US, it would be difficult to guess it from the skyscrapers that populate the downtown area. The Amtrak train station, that sits above the bus station from where I took the bus to Boston just few days ago. The place is in decay, there is only one track serving running on wooden laid track. Once this was a three platforms train station with en extra fourth track running on the outside. Now the main platform is not used and only what once was platform 2 is the only one where trains runs. As it should in a moment like this, it rains, lightly. One of the reason I chose to take the train on my way to the airport was also to try the Amtrak train, on my way up, in January I had run on Metro North, Amtrak is the national company that runs across country. When the two wagons plus the locomotive approach, I feel like sadness, this is after all the line that runs from New York to Boston, and all that is running is a couple of wagons. Nothing compared to what runs on the highways. Inside seats are equipped with sockets and you can comfortably run you laptop on the fold up table. No wireless though.
Hartford is one of the poorest cities in the US, it would be difficult to guess it from the skyscrapers that populate the downtown area. The Amtrak train station, that sits above the bus station from where I took the bus to Boston just few days ago. The place is in decay, there is only one track serving running on wooden laid track. Once this was a three platforms train station with en extra fourth track running on the outside. Now the main platform is not used and only what once was platform 2 is the only one where trains runs. As it should in a moment like this, it rains, lightly. One of the reason I chose to take the train on my way to the airport was also to try the Amtrak train, on my way up, in January I had run on Metro North, Amtrak is the national company that runs across country. When the two wagons plus the locomotive approach, I feel like sadness, this is after all the line that runs from New York to Boston, and all that is running is a couple of wagons. Nothing compared to what runs on the highways. Inside seats are equipped with sockets and you can comfortably run you laptop on the fold up table. No wireless though.
Sunday, July 5, 2009
4th of July in Boston, the irish pub story
The craziest thing about the day was one of the pub we stopped by with my friend T. We enter this Irish pub, 10 people in it, a sad family at one table, few men at the counter and a woman with a Red Sox bluse, nobody says a word, nobody gives us a look, the bartender does not welcome us. It is a local pub. Irish gig music is playing. If Dante's limbo in modern time can be anything, it is something similar to this, spend the eternity in an Irish pub populated by silent souls staring in the void and back to their drink. And Gaelic music. An old poster of JFK is hanging with under it a black and white photo of the JFK aircraft carrier. A Budweiser map of Ireland. a Samuel Adams old clock. a sign saying 'we proudly serve Guinness'.
After 10 minutes, however, as I am watching the dark pattern of the red bricks and mortars that compose the wall near our table, a realization takes forms in my head: this is the real thing, IRA and Sinn Fein, there are no signs but the walls still smell of them, these people are the orphans of "the cause". Who knows how many meeting, how much money has been raised on Sundays afternoons? Few minutes afterwards the confirm comes from the music, political ballads from the 1920s on Ireland and IRA come through the modern digital system. We remain for a couple of hours, paying drinks to the local, Jameson, the republican whisky of course. We play Irish songs by the Pogues, and some old ballads. The other damned souls appreciate and they rescue for us some comments and stories about being 'republican', the pub has been here throughout the 20th century and the fathers of this people dwelt here, some even tell the story of visits to Ireland in the 1970s and 1980s, stories of family, awful food, and religion that possess a powerful scent, coming from another century.
After 10 minutes, however, as I am watching the dark pattern of the red bricks and mortars that compose the wall near our table, a realization takes forms in my head: this is the real thing, IRA and Sinn Fein, there are no signs but the walls still smell of them, these people are the orphans of "the cause". Who knows how many meeting, how much money has been raised on Sundays afternoons? Few minutes afterwards the confirm comes from the music, political ballads from the 1920s on Ireland and IRA come through the modern digital system. We remain for a couple of hours, paying drinks to the local, Jameson, the republican whisky of course. We play Irish songs by the Pogues, and some old ballads. The other damned souls appreciate and they rescue for us some comments and stories about being 'republican', the pub has been here throughout the 20th century and the fathers of this people dwelt here, some even tell the story of visits to Ireland in the 1970s and 1980s, stories of family, awful food, and religion that possess a powerful scent, coming from another century.
Saturday, July 4, 2009
4th of July morning, from the bus
My day starts at 830 with a taxi ride from farmington to Hartford Union station, with a Pakistani driver who does not bucle the belt. He has been in the US for 20 years he tells me, but he complains: no matter how much money you make, no social life. I ask if he has tried to go back to his country, two times, he answers, but with no success.
So this is my first time on a bus in the US, at the very end of my trip. The ride from Hartford to Boston on the Greyhound bus, costs 32$. If you buy the ticket online it would be 22, but then you have to come and pick it up one hour before depart, a clear way to discourage online ticketing. If you buy from the Peter Pan Buses web site, the african american lady at the counter explains me, you can print the ticket yourself, but they are not very strict with the greyhound rules either.... This is a tip for everybody travelling by bus in the US.
The 9 15 Boston bound bus (they do not call them coaches on this side of the atlantic) is a Peter Pan bus, evidently the two companies Peter Pan and Greyhound have now joined forces. A normal bus with 52 seats, a bathroom, and a black dust bag in the front as common bin. We are about 20 25 people on board, difficult to see who they might be, normal people, of different ages, races etc. The driver welcomes us onboard through the speakers and reminds us that smoking and alcohol are federally prohibited on buses, with the accent posed on the federal. Restrain from the use of cellphone as a courtesy to your fellow traveller etc, and there is free wireless on the bus. Thus I am writing this very note from my seat at the front. I have been to Boston less than a week ago but I was too tired, I hope today is going to be better. I have found a guide book, not very good, but informative. Now I remember a movie, a bad romantic comedy (I am not good judge of romantic comedies, I do not watch them) Everybody wants to be Italian, which is set in the north end district of Boston, the one traditionally lived by Italians immigrants. Really I do not know much else. It means that I will learn a lot today.
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Car finale...con brio
so, after the cross country car adventure one way and back, I get the car insurance adventure. Complete experience, till the end.
On monday evening the accident, the phone calls. Tuesday afternoon the appraisal guy that works for the insurance company of the car that hit me comes round to have a look at the car. He has italian origin, from Puglia. He explains me that he is just collecting data and pictures and that he will do an estimate when back to his office. Subsequentely I drive the car to a car body shop, one that has been recommended by one of the librarians. He looks at the car and predicts what may happens. The car is too damaged for a repair. Even if it is just the body it is not worth repairing it. The insurance is going to declare it a total loss and "total it". That is it is going to give me money and substantially buy the car from me. This is the best solution, as I will not have to find a buyer for the repaired car.
The following day nothing happened, they let me in a frying pan of preoccupations the entire day, will this be solved in time? will I need to reschedule my flight? At the end of the day I called the insurance, the profecy was fulfilled, it is a total loss and we are going to buy the car from you.
At this point I could start to relax, I would not need to sell it, time and how much? are now my concerns.
Today again was a day of waiting, waiting for receiving the phone call that would tell me the final word, how much and when. In the end, around 3 30 I received the call, they are going to give me 4000 $ and the check is going to be there by tomorrow.
I will need to provide them with the title of ownership duly completed. The plate need to be taken off and sent back to the DMV by post ( one could actually just take them there, however it is closed from thursday to the tuesday for Independence Day).
The incident was on monday afternoon, we have a solution by wednesday, and a check by friday, this is an incredible efficiency for a insurance to give money away.
Celebrate the 4th of july.
My last question to the appraisal guy in our last conversation was, what will happen to the car? The car, he answered, will be sold at an auction, and will be bought either by a salvage yard who will break it down for parts, or will be bought by a rebuilder who will repair and try to sell it.
On monday evening the accident, the phone calls. Tuesday afternoon the appraisal guy that works for the insurance company of the car that hit me comes round to have a look at the car. He has italian origin, from Puglia. He explains me that he is just collecting data and pictures and that he will do an estimate when back to his office. Subsequentely I drive the car to a car body shop, one that has been recommended by one of the librarians. He looks at the car and predicts what may happens. The car is too damaged for a repair. Even if it is just the body it is not worth repairing it. The insurance is going to declare it a total loss and "total it". That is it is going to give me money and substantially buy the car from me. This is the best solution, as I will not have to find a buyer for the repaired car.
The following day nothing happened, they let me in a frying pan of preoccupations the entire day, will this be solved in time? will I need to reschedule my flight? At the end of the day I called the insurance, the profecy was fulfilled, it is a total loss and we are going to buy the car from you.
At this point I could start to relax, I would not need to sell it, time and how much? are now my concerns.
Today again was a day of waiting, waiting for receiving the phone call that would tell me the final word, how much and when. In the end, around 3 30 I received the call, they are going to give me 4000 $ and the check is going to be there by tomorrow.
I will need to provide them with the title of ownership duly completed. The plate need to be taken off and sent back to the DMV by post ( one could actually just take them there, however it is closed from thursday to the tuesday for Independence Day).
The incident was on monday afternoon, we have a solution by wednesday, and a check by friday, this is an incredible efficiency for a insurance to give money away.
Celebrate the 4th of july.
My last question to the appraisal guy in our last conversation was, what will happen to the car? The car, he answered, will be sold at an auction, and will be bought either by a salvage yard who will break it down for parts, or will be bought by a rebuilder who will repair and try to sell it.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
car adventure : the twisted finale
After a pleasant weekend between Rhode Island and Massachusetts, of which I will write later, yesterday morning I set off from East Greenwich westwards to Farmington. I will spend the week there. It is somehow like going back home. Certainly it is for the car, as I am taking it where I bought it. This 100 miles or so to the Lewis Walpole Library are also my last drive in the US. Once there I will sell the car tomorrow or on Wednesday. As these thoughts start to gather in my head I get a little emotional while driving. This car has been a good companion of adventure in the last 4 months, and I am sad I have to leave it behind. The weather continue to be gray and showery, trees and plants are display their best green. I stop for the last gas and I also take a last coffee refill, just for the fun of it. It is funny to drive again in these roads where I drove first at the beginning of February. The I-95 I-84, the 372, and finally the 10 that took me from New Haven to Farmington. When I arrive to the library the odometer marks 133869, it was 130043 10 days ago when I left LA, the trip coast to coast West to East was in the end 3826 miles. When I left Farmington in late February it marked 121840. In the last 4 months I have done more than 12000 miles, more than 19000 km, what I have been usually doing in three years back in Italy.
The day passes between greetings, tales from my past months and some work in the reading room, reading some early 19th century accounts of English Clubs life.
At 5 pm I take everything off the car and clean it, then I take it to the car wash, I want to make it look beautiful for the perspective buyer who is coming to see it at 6 30.
As I am driving back home on route 6 I stop at a yellow traffic light. A GMC small SUV hit me from the back and pushes me on the other side of the intersection. I cannot render the thousand thoughts that hit me on those seconds, insurance, no sale, mechanic, my flight, my money, my buyer, time, time.
I get off and look at the car, the rear bumper the lights on the passenger side needs replacing the trunk and some of the fairing needs bodywork. Nothing major but certainly significant, and it will go on the record of the car, the resale price will just drop and drop. What will I do?
The other guy stops and calls the police, it is a nice guy, from down the road. He is sorry. A first car of the local municipal police arrives, but the policewoman is at the end of her shift and a sergeant comes 10 minutes later. A report is filed. I explain my situation, I leave the country in a week or so, they tell me to leave the registration certificate, my title of ownership already signed for the sale to a person I trust. What a mess.
In the evening I call both my insurance and the other guy insurance. They will contact me for the appraisal. maybe today. I walked to the local plaza, back in february, with ice on the sidewalk this had seemed to me quite a distance, now it does not take me more than 5 minutes to get there. The liquor shop is not there anymore, a casualty of the crisis? difficult to believe. I was ready to indulge in a bottle to forget the day, but I will have to find other means to sedate my soul, what a stroke of luck, they give star trek the next generation on the sci-fi channel....
The day passes between greetings, tales from my past months and some work in the reading room, reading some early 19th century accounts of English Clubs life.
At 5 pm I take everything off the car and clean it, then I take it to the car wash, I want to make it look beautiful for the perspective buyer who is coming to see it at 6 30.
As I am driving back home on route 6 I stop at a yellow traffic light. A GMC small SUV hit me from the back and pushes me on the other side of the intersection. I cannot render the thousand thoughts that hit me on those seconds, insurance, no sale, mechanic, my flight, my money, my buyer, time, time.
I get off and look at the car, the rear bumper the lights on the passenger side needs replacing the trunk and some of the fairing needs bodywork. Nothing major but certainly significant, and it will go on the record of the car, the resale price will just drop and drop. What will I do?
The other guy stops and calls the police, it is a nice guy, from down the road. He is sorry. A first car of the local municipal police arrives, but the policewoman is at the end of her shift and a sergeant comes 10 minutes later. A report is filed. I explain my situation, I leave the country in a week or so, they tell me to leave the registration certificate, my title of ownership already signed for the sale to a person I trust. What a mess.
In the evening I call both my insurance and the other guy insurance. They will contact me for the appraisal. maybe today. I walked to the local plaza, back in february, with ice on the sidewalk this had seemed to me quite a distance, now it does not take me more than 5 minutes to get there. The liquor shop is not there anymore, a casualty of the crisis? difficult to believe. I was ready to indulge in a bottle to forget the day, but I will have to find other means to sedate my soul, what a stroke of luck, they give star trek the next generation on the sci-fi channel....
Monday, June 29, 2009
Cambridge Boston, 8th day
The weather has completely changed, since I passed Buffalo going east, it is grey and it is raining. Today it is the same, I did not know that summers in new england would be so mild, so englishin a sense, in the traditional sense of what summer used to be in England.
Getting to cambridge is relatively easy, I am there in less than 2 hours, but the only parking available is very expensive. I walk around this little town for half an hour before getting to the research library where a booklet has been set aside for me. In less than three hours I have finished with it and decide to drive through downtown Boston before heading for Providence where I have an appointment with T. I stop in Boston and have a walk around and stop at the public gardens, I see the victorian and edwardian architecture of the houses, but I am too tired to be really looking around and getting a sense of the city, a seagull is carrying with its beak a plastic bag full of bread crumbs, from time to time stops rest and then picks up its bag and walk another 5 6 metres. I think I am so tired I am having allucinations, thus I take a picture of it, just to be sure. After an hour or so I get back on the car and drive to Providence, RI. Traffic getting out of Boston is worse than in LA, it takes me two hours to get to Providence. My friend is waiting at a bar in Thayer street, where Brown University people hang out. A very trendy and lively street.
After a couple of drinks we head to East Greenwich some 15 miles south of Providence, where T is living at the moment.
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