Being a tourist.

                                                                                      

I have spent the day being a tourist. I went to the ravishing Tuscan town of San Giminano on the bus. It is funny how we all think that lots of tourists in a place is a bad thing- we somehow feel apart; not putting ourselves in the same category, even if we are. I was undoubtedly a tourist today, there is no getting away from it. The only consolation was that at least 50% of the other tourists were Italian which made the experience  feel more genuine somehow... they were Milanese, Roman or even from other parts of Tuscany, like one of my fellow tourists in our group being led by an Italian lady guide talking about Dante and his significance to San Giminano. My co-tourist was from Montepulciano- another place not far away with almost as worthy credentials as San Giminano. It also  helps when one is having lunch in a place that Italian is spoken at the neighbouring  tables – the restaurant may have been aimed at tourists, but my ‘Neopolitan’ pizza was certainly very good.

The significance of Dante in the context of San Giminano was mainly that he arrived in the city with a delegation as an Ambassador for Florence in the year 1300. Some frescoes in the Duomo, and also in a couple of other churches are inspired by Dante’s Inferno- here we have a scene from the 7^th Circle- where the souls of those that have been physically violent are punished in a river of blood.

                                                   

But San Giminano, the ‘Manhattan’ of medieval Italy with its multitude of bell towers, while undoubtedly a perfect Tuscan gem, is a place that now exists only for the tourist trade. When I heard the drums play and saw the medieval costumes being paraded and the flags thrown to the applause of the assembled throng of tourists it was quite obvious that these were performers that were paid by the San Giminano tourist board. 

                                                          

This town;  (and some would even say Florence) is not a living city, it is a museum. I was discussing this (in Italian- forgive me ...I had to throw that in.. ) with the Milanese couple. They thought that Siena, on the contrary, was a living city.  I agreed wholeheartedly of course. That is one of the reasons I love this place... When people parade here they do it for themselves- they couldn’t care less about tourists. One wouldn’t dare asking any of them if one could do a selfie with them; it just isn’t done. There isn’t even any point in smiling at them, they don’t smile back.

But there is a threat hanging over the city. One of the largest employers here, the Banco di Monte di Paschi di Siena, the oldest bank in the world  which still has its head quarter here, is about to go under. 

                                 

The bank employs about 2500 people, a sizeable group in a city of about 50 000. And it is not only a question of the amount of people employed- it is a question of the pride of the city... On the 24^th of this month there is a strike announced – the employees are fed up not knowing what the future holds and not being told anything.

But still, tomorrow Siena will celebrate again: as I left this morning all the Lupa flags were up in the Via Montanini- so tomorrow there will be the Lupa Contrada out in force here- the Contrada of the She- Wolf.