By way of being GM’s long term, he doesn’t know how long and showing signs of being worried it’ll be a while, house guest I have become a bit of a de facto sidekick to my friend. You know the kind that share events, adventures and often impart wisdom disguised as light entertainment only to be killed off two thirds into a movie thus providing the hero with the revenge motive for the third act – I hope we don’t go that far. So when GM heads out for an evening I end up tagging along for the ride.
Many of these nights have occurred in the mountain town of Asolo. Known as the city of a hundred horizons for its mountain settings (uncle Wiki) and a world leader in the production of mountaineering shoes, Asolo is about an hours drive from Treviso. I couldn’t comment on its beauty as I’ve only seen it at night and as for significant sights well I’ve seen bars and restaurants. Being without a car (and a little afeard of driving on the other side) my journeys around the Veneto have largely been public transport affairs but when driving through the bits between I get a glimpse into the side of Italy that never gets written about in the under the Tuscan sun genre. I begin to wonder if like Frances Mayes and Marianne Di Blasi if I too have over romanticised Italy? Yes within this peninsular is packed a seemingly inexhaustible supply of beautiful medieval towns and cities, rolling countryside filled with poplar trees and vineyards but driving around the Veneto there really are an awful lot of out of town megastores and industrial centres. I know, I know Italy is a modern country yadda, yadda, yadda but I never did think about the scourge of the out of town shopping centre and the scary family restaurant (which if your reading I still want to go to) being here. On the bright side I suppose it keeps all those medieval towns' picture postcard friendly.
Arriving in Asolo for the first time GM introduced me to one of his regular haunts and his friends. How would I describe the bar called Rock Affair? Well it’s quite big (by the local standards,) has a red interior, comfy sofas, lamps and a bunch of lovely locals. For those of you familiar with the North Fitzroy Pinnacle – there’s no Ted, nor any other annoying, socially inept dregular. While GM saw to DJing duties I was looked after by his friends. By the end of the evening there were many offers of – if you need any help just let me know and an invitation/insistence that I return with GM on Saturday.
So it was just a few days later we were back on the road to Asolo. This time we stopped off in the town of Montebelluna for an art “happening.” The theme of the night was made in China and while I assume there was a commentary on the global as opposed to the local as ever with such events I wondered if it was just me not getting it or the event not really having anything to say beyond a slogan. Perhaps it was just me as no one else seemed to have a confused expression and a continual desire to say but. At least (as with most art events) there was a well stocked bar. So with our (hic) art fix over and clutching our gift of cheese (long story) we continued on our way to Asolo. We stopped at Zweibar not for a drink but to undergo the curious car swapping procedure. Waiting for us was F and his car to which we quickly decamped and then made are way up into the hills for dinner. After a feed we were off again to the Rock Affair for a few hours with GM taking another turn at the DJ booth before heading back to Zweibar to pick up the car we arrived in.
This scenario played out a number of times over the next few weeks and I quickly realised what a car culture this is. I’ve had the luxury of being chauffeured everywhere but once out on my own life suddenly becomes trying. So many wonderful places I have visited here have been in a little village somewhere at the end of a long lane, up a mountain or just plainly out in the middle of nowhere. In 09 when I wanted to visit the museum of children’s illustration in a little heard of town called Sarmede a quick look at the public transport options had me realise that unless I wanted to commit two years to the enterprise I would have to get me someone with a set of wheels (two guesses as to who was press ganged.) Living in Melbourne I have been spoilt with having everything either a walk or tram ride away. Last week GM, L, F and I headed down to Bologna for a gig. While it’s relatively easy to get to Bologna there was no way we could have got to the venue on public transport – suddenly whingeing about having to go south of the river to catch a gig at the Espy seems somewhat pathetic. All in all I must realise that I’m not living in a city anymore – despite its city status Treviso is really a town and things are just done differently here. Whether I can live with the concomitant frustrations remains to be seen but here’s hoping people don’t get sick of me tagging along for the adventure.
On the road to Bologna.
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