Column: to Rome on foot – part 13

The hotels in Piacenza are a bit more expensive than I am used to. The lady from the Tourist Office says that's because Piacenza is an important economic hub between northern and southern Italy. It is also one of the main stops on the Via Francigena and many tourists stop overnight on their way south or to the coast. Besides pilgrims, businessmen and tourists, there are also many foreigners looking for a better life, I notice.

In the reception of my hotel is Martha, a girl from Latvia who is determined to build her future in Italy. She tells me that she studied nutrition at the university in Tallinn and did a month's holiday work in Italy last summer.

She fell, very classically, in love with a boy from Piacenza. When it turned out to be a serious relationship, this feisty girl made some important decisions. Although her Italian was still minimal at first, she enrolled at the University of Piacenza for the same study she followed in Tallinn. She found a job in this hotel and rented a room in a monastery. She makes an energetic impression on me, she'll make it here.

Russisch

When I come downstairs in the morning, I find Martha busy talking, in Russian, with a blond woman who cleans the rooms in the hotel. This woman is noticeably less positive. She is also older and everything shows that it was only poverty that drove her abroad.

She is from Ukraine and the only word I understand in the excited discussion between the women is the name 'Timoshenko' (the politician with the braid). But when we talk later, she turns out to be very bitter, and angry with all the politicians, she doesn't believe her country will ever get any better. She is now doing cleaning work in Italy but can hardly make a living from it. I hear her constantly calling about bills, I feel bad for her.

Illegal Africans

It is even worse for the Africans whom I find in large numbers here in the city. They hang around in a park all day with no job or no prospects. According to the Italians I speak to, they are all illegal and can only survive through theft or the help of, mostly, religious organizations.

One afternoon I am sitting on a terrace when a young African comes begging. I ask him where he is from. "Sudan," he replies. I say that it is not a solution to go begging, that he should try to get work somewhere.

"There is no work," he says. I think he is right, because I read in the newspaper that unemployment has already risen to 10 percent here and that as many as 30 percent of young people are unemployed. I advise him to look for work in the direction of Ferrara and Bologna. I know that hundreds of miles of land there are full of tomatoes and all kinds of other vegetables, maybe they need people there who can work the land.

Holidays

In the meantime, I think I'm ready to take a little 'vacation'. I have some blisters on my feet, leg cramps and my backpack hangs like a millstone from my shoulders. It is time to take advantage of the invitation of my friends in Monteisola, an island in Lake Iseo, to come and rest at their hotel for 3 days. Friend Peter de Boer, who also lives there with his wife Marga, will pick me up in Piacenza and will also bring me back after 3 days so that I can start on Wednesday rested and well on my last 5, 6 weeks.

My Italian friends there have a hotel on the water. I have a room with a view over the lake. At night I hear the water rippling and when I can't sleep again, I hang out the window and look at the calming and beautiful view.

I will stay for 3 days, that means having a leisurely breakfast for 3 days, being spoiled terribly by the ladies Antonia and Wilma, eating fresh fish caught by Sandro himself, having a drink in the evening and talking with Silvano, Nicola and many more. islanders who pass by here.

And don't walk. The whole Sunday I let Peter and Marga sail me around the lake. Carefree days until the penultimate evening. While I am drinking a glass of wine with a few people, Antonia and Wilma are walking around nervously. It's past twelve, nobody is in the restaurant anymore, why don't they come and join us?

Overwrought doctor

There appears to be a guest in the hotel who is severely overworked. It is an Italian doctor who is quite famous, says Antonia. He has several books to his name. But now he has completely gone crazy and wants to go fishing in the middle of the night to find peace.

Six months ago, the man operated on a child who died during that operation. History does not tell whether he made a mistake. But he can't get that out of his mind. He told Antonia that he always sees the mother's eyes when he had to tell her the terrible news.

And now he wants to go fishing at the jetty. He's already dragged all his gear there. We also all go to the jetty because the man better not be left alone. It's a lot of fiddling there at that jetty, 2 rods break and he catches a few tiny fish. Shortly after one o'clock a heavy thunderstorm breaks out, forcing us all to flee inside.

So everyone has their own struggle. Sometimes things are irreversible and you just have to accept them. That is not always easy. This man is apparently still in the middle of it. It is one of many examples of people or situations I encounter on my journey that make me rethink my own life. And it should. That's why I'll be happy when I'm alone again tomorrow. 

To be continued…