II.xiii. Visitors

"Thou Paradise of exiles, Italy!"
- Percy Bysshe Shelley

My friend Marko and I were each born on opposite sides of Europe; he remembers living in Tito's Yugoslavia as a child, while I remember yearning for each trip across the Atlantic. His past memories are much more dramatic than mine, as he has witnessed the birth and rapid development of his country; Canada in all its youth is an ancient land when compared to the Republic of Slovenia, though in truth nationhood and independence are two very different things.
    Marko and I became friends this summer, at a conference in Toronto, and we promised to visit each other while I was to be in Europe. We had in fact planned to embark on a slightly ludicrous road trip across much of Western Europe in his car, in order to attend a get together some other friends of ours were having over the weekend in Brussels. After our initial enthusiasm with the plan wore down, we decided that we would stick to Italy for the time being, since the drive from Ljubljana to Bologna is less than four hours.
    Marko and I had a grand time over the few days he was here. The two of us have a very similar sense of humour, one which indulges in irony and takes nothing more seriously than necessary; it was a welcome break from the earnest Italic sentiment. Thus, we mingled with and mocked the great crowds who gather nightly on Via Zamboni, we went on a day trip to San Gimignano, Siena, and other small Tuscan towns, and we even ventures out to the Ikea that lies on the outskirts of Bologna.


Marko and I, in front of the small Tuscan village of Colle Vale d'Elsa


A view of the church of San Domenico and a blazing sunset in Siena