It is one of those rare Italian towns where we did not need a map. We did not care what the streets were called. The grid was pretty easy to understand. Everything radiated from the cathedral and Il Campo (the main square). You'll know you've wandered too far when you've crossed the wall.
Siena was filled with small mom-and-pop shops, bars (in Italy, a bar is actually where one gets coffee), cozy restaurants. It was delightful just window shopping, observing local life mingling with tourism, and to be honest, in Siena, the lines between the two were blurry to me.
But what I loved most of all in Siena are the signs of life, the hum of everyday life, laundry hanging out to dry, shutters opening and closing, the noise of people working on sewer lines, the hustle of motorcyclists trying to get to work. Signs that people actually still live here and it has been consecutively inhabited since the 1 AD or perhaps even longer. It is not some diorama of an extinct society. It is here as much as it was thousands of years ago. That idea is so romantic to me and I felt a sharp pang of postal code envy.
On an empty street, I wandered into a calligrapher's shop. The sign at the door said feel free to nose around, and I took that liberty. They had piles of old books, stacks of old crispy paper, with the most beautiful of handwriting. Written lovingly. By hand. I picked up a book. I believe it was Don Quixote in Italian. I could not resist the urge. I closed my eyes and held it to my nose.
Perhaps this is why I have a soft spot for Siena. It is a world where traditions still live, where people still write by hand, where paper is not in its last gasping breath. Technology has changed our lives exponentially and it is not stopping anytime soon. It is comforting to know that in a world where our cars would be self-driving us in our lifetime, there is still a place like Siena, where life is still lived the way I know it.
Up Next
These two must-sees in Siena:
Duomo di Siena |
Piazza del Campo |
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