Find bars and places of refuge goes hand in hand with the desire to find others to get lost and confused.
take the main street in search of inspiration. I strive to take a clean look, as if for the first time.
in this way is not easy to prune the display of appearances, to find a welcoming place, an invitation to visit.
I do not like modern furniture, impersonal, aluminum tables, menus for tourists, he says. There is an air
perfect: fresh, clean, atmosphere foiled by storm.
The light is almost sunset yellow, with gray clouds appease the sun.
Supero the corridor leading to the cathedral square and decided, why not to stop at the bar overlooking the cathedral.
Why not rip the tourists the domain on one of the most beautiful views of the city?
The bar I like, is elegant but not snooty, there are few people, I choose a table near the exit, just a step from the pavement of the square. I order a smooth
sambuca, which probably will pay dearly, but I decided not to think about. The warmth, by long-time operator, the owner convinced me.
This is my third approach, the third clue to the cathedral.
The first was literary.
I first saw the Cathedral of Lecce in the prose poetry of Antonio Errico describing it, reading it I realized we never went.
Perhaps the desire to always look for an alternative to the streets worn soles crazy tourists, in protest to the frenzy of monuments that are fleeting victim's patrons. Indeed
other customers are clearly tourists, languages \u200b\u200band dialects, discourses on the Milanese restaurant to book for dinner, like to taste the wine here, consider what the guides 'typical' and therefore not to be missed.
are too foreign, but the sambuca into a glass that I say here that I decided to live there, to live my usual ritual substance 'Anicia' in the glass, pen and notebook on a table of dark wood. A
immediately undermine the stereotypical image of the patrons of local homeless people from the air from two alpine face burned from the road, long beard, felt hat, they're often sitting in the course. It seems that for them is part of a daily ritual to come in here, go to the bathroom, healthy and then go out to greet the owner.
the bar for me is the limit, the threshold porous, standing inside looking out.
In this square must get in, does not appear immediately. You
teases its bell tower from virtually anywhere in the city, but to access it, to feel children looking up there is a path to do, before the view through a hatch and dance to the eyes all around, up and down between the front and some of the many full vacuum to rest every now and then chase the pupils.
The side facing the front of the cathedral is no exception: the terraces that can be seen above the rooftops, the crock of imperfect walls of adjacent houses, maybe live, maybe not.
A stay at the table I notice that the square is not like I imagined.
The pursuit of the perfect holiday on the corner, the right light for the photo memory will not stop the shouting of the kids bike that run from side to side, shouting strange codes. There seems to be smoke coming from the course that leads to their excitement, even with a phone call to find out what happened, are the real vigilantes of this public space, the only ones that I'd trust.
Another group of younger children with Oriental features kicks a ball and a couple parked on the stairs at the side entrance of the cathedral, a fine place to exchange effusions, I think, I would say almost courageous.
There's also a guy sitting on a stolen recesses of the wall. Do nothing, looking ahead, has long hair and the air was absent. I think I've seen, maybe in front of Santa Croce.
not see the cathedral, looking forward or maybe just think with eyes, is the figure of the anti-tourist, without haste, a little 'lost, crouching, sheltered, with nothing in hand.
He looks like a long stay there and feel no need to leave.
mirror image of the carved stone. Pensive statue.
"Here is the stone of the Baroque as a mother tongue, a genetic code, a folk song known all along. And 'the essential synthesis of a city "(A. Errico).
Books read since I was in the south ...
Travel Finibusterrae, Salento between passions and boundaries, Anthony Errico
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