Cities with secrets

After visiting the Certosa (see previous posting) we took the train back to Pavia proper and explored the city. We got there just as the mass exodus for lunchtime closing began. It was very clear that by walking into the town center we were proceeding in the absolutely incorrect direction. We were swimming upstream -- a true cascade of Italians rolling over those foolish enough to believe that there was any reason at all to go into the city at this time of day.



We found lunch, and were happy to sit down and relax. When we came out of the bar we were starring in our very own western. The streets were deserted. The shops had closed. There could have been tumbleweed rolling down the strada. It was, however, the perfect time to explore the medieval towers and buildings that are never really open or closed. You just find them, stand in front of them, and like the busloads of various tourists we're becoming used to in Milan, stand in front of them for a commemorative photo.



The town itself was twisted and cobble-stoned. There were no great drawls of grey space but rather colorful walls, rounded stones, and intricate balconies. Despite the crisp cold... (Stefano even went so far as to wear his mismatched gloves. Long story but between the two of us we managed to leave the store with two right hand gloves rather than the usual one for each hand. They're a highly fashionable pair too, aside from the fact that he's had to jam a right handed glove onto his left.)... despite the crisp cold Pavia had a warmth we appreciated.

With the deserted streets to ourselves we were prowling around, listening for church organs and keeping an eye out for the random Italian tooling by on a bicycle. You must remain on watch because they are often truly multi-tasking and therefore cannot steer appropriately -- there is rarely an Italian female on a bicycle who is neither smoking nor chatting on her cell phone. And usually she is doing both. It's very impressive but at the same time a touch frightening. I suppose I should simply take pleasure from the fact she is not on her Vespa instead.



As we explored we passed the man above, cleaning in front of a random building. You may notice the small door within the larger door. The glimpse of green beyond the streets caught our collective eye and I stopped to take this photo. The man noticed and beckoned us with invitational gestures to go through the little door and quickly see what was inside. And we did.



It was beautiful, old and stately. And it truly explains what it so charming and delicious about Italy. It's the secrets hidden behind giant walls with tiny doors. It's the trees that climb from isolated courtyards and the art that is everywhere you would never expect it to be.



Behind the tiny door in the giant door were columns and gardens and old bicycles and staircases into the dusty afternoon light. The man followed us and made sure we gazed towards the ceiling and saw the devil with the angels that was painted as high as the sky. That we saw the hand-worked iron that blanketed down from the railings. That we noticed these wonderful things that were hidden from everyone but those we were lucky enough to live inside the beauty.



But this is Italy and it was an invitation from a stranger that reminded me of what travelers are truly trying to find.