Column: dopo il silenzio

'We have to go,' Nico suddenly says hastily and takes his wallet and car keys from the drawer of the dresser. I hang nonchalantly on the couch and look at the clock with a drowsy eye. Half past seven. Away? Already? Normally I'm the one who wants to leave well in time and Nico has to encourage action, but now he's suddenly the one who wants to leave early. Absurdly early.

The ride to Pavia normally takes 40 minutes and the concert doesn't start until 21pm! I don't feel like being three quarters of an hour early and say, 'Just sit down, we're leaving at quarter to.' With a sigh, my husband slumps onto the couch and starts sudoku despondently. His right foot wiggles back and forth.

For the first time in 6 months we can go to a The performance, a concert. In the open air and with a good distance between the visitors, but still. Finally. We are ready. The Ghislieri choir from Pavia (performances in the concert hall and the Early Music Festival) that is now also world-famous in the Netherlands, dared to perform again, during a concert dedicated to the victims of the corona epidemic.

'Dopo il silenzio' it is called, after the silence. Admission is free, but you had to book online, because places were of course limited, even though the Italian corona regime only requires a meter away instead of one and a half.

Making a reservation did not go smoothly. The Ghislieri website referred to the page of the Castlewhere the event was to take place. The page showed me an empty square after I chose the concert I wanted to reserve. "Now choose the spaces still available within the square," the accompanying text requested. Easier said than done! I saw no places, spots or chairs at all. Only after a lot of tinkering, with accompanying grumbling, did I realize that you had to sign up first and log in to see a real map. Pfff.

Quarter to eight, we leave. Surprisingly, it is remarkably busy on the road on Sunday evening. Probably city dwellers returning home after a day or weekend in the countryside. Long before the Becca Bridge we stand. At first I think it's before the traffic light at the road works that are being carried out a kilometer before the bridge (now that Rutte has reluctantly donated a few billion euros to Italy, the work is shooting like 'mushrooms from the ground'), but no, it really is the queue for the bridge.

A few months ago (even before the Dutch donation) they started the umpteenth renovation phase of the old, one kilometer long iron bridge over the confluence of the Ticino and the Po. This time, the entire span will be rust-free and painted. Result: one-way traffic on part of the already narrow bridge, regulated by traffic lights. I'm in front of it a few mornings a week, when I go to the swimming pool in Pavia go (the open-air baths are collectively and demonstratively closed as of September 1, even though it is still high summer and 30 degrees, because: è finita la stagione!). But I have never experienced such a long queue as now.

After half an hour we finally reach the bridge. I can hear from the sniff next to me that Nico is getting really nervous now. I can hear him thinking, "See, we should have left sooner." I am silent: the experience of 35 years of being together is bearing fruit. Luckily we can get close to it Visconteo Castle (one of Pavia's historical attractions) parking.

Just keep going because it's almost nine o'clock. Satisfied we sit down in our assigned places and look around us. The attractively lit stage is empty. Next door, a technician is still working on the electronics (the concert will be streamed live; we could have just stayed at home). No chorus in sight. Most spectators, still very few in number, are chatting in groups, but neatly with mouth caps in front. The conductor passes us greeting and walks with a firm step… away from the stage. Very far away. Out of the castle. Hey?

We're back in it. Even now we have been living in Italy for over 10 years. 'On time', on time, is a concept that is interpreted very differently here than in the strict north of Europe. Of course the concert does not start at 21.00 pm, even though it is mentioned everywhere and even on the program that the organization has just put into our hands. We should have known that by now. It is now 21.05, the conductor has left with an unknown destination and no one is concerned about anything. Delicious. But it never takes getting used to.

We watch the program. Oh, yes, of course, that too. Speakers! No The performance without first a few pompous considerations by some of Italy's millions of would-be preachers! The emotion's and a common's will fly around our ears again. We could easily have arrived half an hour 'late', because before the director, the alderman, mayor and – yes – the pastor had said their blessings… And of course there is also a presenter (m/f) who have to talk to each other.

The presenter of the evening appears to have the longest word this time. But Don Lolli also turns out to be able to do something: we get a real sermon about it love and the really important things in life (no, those are not fame and power and money) that we have learned to rediscover thanks to corona. Don Lolli also probably missed his churchgoers because he goes on and on. And through. And he's not really funny either.

The beautiful choral singing is always interrupted for another speaker, so that the podium has to be brought in and taken away again and again. The presenter mistakenly announces the wrong person to speak and complains into the microphone in front of the entire, but still not very numerous audience that the organization has falsely informed her. I'm beginning to wonder if there's not going to be more talking than singing this evening, and I realize that our journey here was probably longer than what we get in net singing…

But when there is finally some singing it is beautiful. What a vote! The maestro (he had returned 'on time' from his unknown destination) has a reputation for being very strict, but that can be heard. We enjoy ourselves, finally once again, but quickly break out when a microphone is pushed forward again at the end of the concert: the maestro is also going to say something. Something with love, a common en emotion.

PS Want to see and listen to the concert yourself? You can do that here:

The nice thing is that you can also experience the waiting time. The video recording started at 21 pm, so nothing happens for the first 20 minutes! 'A breve inizierà la trasmissione' says one text hopefully. Then comes the announcement of the presenter and the first speaker. The concert finally starts at 21.35 pm. For fans of Don Lolli: he starts on the 55^th minute to hear.

The maestro's (minute-long) speech we missed has also been recorded, albeit with a clip. The sound engineer was apparently also tired of the chatter.

🇮🇹Reading tip: Want to read more fun stories about life in Italy? You can find it in the three parts 'Italiaanse Status' by Stef Smulders, available at bol.com.