The Other Side

After accidentally buying a 72 euro business class ticket (it's a long story) I traveled - very comfortably - by train to a small town called Trevisio, where I had decided to spend the weekend with my older brother. I had been to Trevisio before but I was very young, and had failed to really let my surroundings sink in. After being picked up from the station I found myself amazed by what I saw: so much of the town - at least where we were -  had a lot of old architecture incorporated into the modern city. Like Prato, the old city was surrounded by a wall, but a canal made its way through the buildings and there was definitely more nature to be found. Essentially, it was very clear that the inhabitants of Trevisio were quite well-off.

My brother had decided to take me out that night and, upon talking to the young people around the bars, I came to learn that a good number of people in Trevisio - perhaps even the majority - are of a right-wing conservative political stance, and have little tolerance for immigrants and the liberal youth. I was told that many of the younger people did not share this view and saw the issue of immigration, for example, as a symptom of a greater problem and not the problem itself. "If we in the West were not destroying their countries for resources they would not be here. But they are a convenient excuse for economic decline, which brings even greater support from the people to invade their lands," one girl had passionately expressed to me. I certainly have my own thoughts on the matter but, since the nature of this blog is not political, I'm content to keep my thoughts to myself. Still, I was surprised to hear her say this - and others echo it. It seemed to me that many of the people that I talked to were concerned about, not only the political tension, but the growing racial tension as well. This was something that people of Prato had never expressed to me - at least not quite to this extent.

Later that night, when the streets had filled with a variety of youths, a large group of older, well-dressed, and definitely wealthier  people made their way, in a long line, through the crowd. They held their belongings close and glanced around in unfeigned distaste. It seemed likely that they were on their way home from some kind of dinner or social event. The atmosphere in the area had immediately and undeniable changed; the result of two worlds that were ideologically opposed colliding. When they had all passed, I brought it up to my brother to make sure that what I had just seen wasn't in my head. "Those were the right-winged conservatives my friends were telling you about earlier," he explained. "They don't get along with this crowd at all." I had never seen anything like that in Prato. The resentment was so palpable you could taste it. What was most disturbing, however, was the way they had looked at my brother and me. It was a look that I was very used to getting, growing up in South Africa, a kind of disgust, a poorly concealed contempt for that which is different. With their eyes alone, they had said "Leave, you've done enough damage to our country, and all because you are too incompetent to run your own." If only the problem was so simple, I would have liked to say, but there was no point. I was content to let the situation amuse me. 

Once the bars had all closed, my brother and I headed home. As soon as we arrived at the front steps of the apartment building, we were comically stopped by the police, who had driven obnoxiously fast onto the side walk before coming to a screeching halt.  One of them stepped out of the car, chest out like a gorilla, and rushed towards us with his flashlight in my brother's eyes (apparently ignorant of the fact that the area was already well-lit) shouting "Papers?" as he made his way towards us. It was like something out of a WWII movie, I honestly couldn't believe my ears and eyes. The man was clearly very used to harassing and intimidating immigrants (or people who looked like they might be immigrants.) Most would say he was simply doing his job, but I knew he enjoyed it, and he had made no attempt at hiding his total lack of respect for us on a human to human level. Instead of handing him his Italian I.D., my brother politely asked him to remove the light from his eyes, and asked if we had done anything to receive such a hostile introduction. This, of course, only fed the officers superiority complex and his only response was "I'm the police and you'll do as I say," before turning to his partner, who had joined us, to spout ugly, racist comments (obviously unaware that my brother was fluent in Italian.) Amusingly, it was clear that they didn't really know how to deal with people who didn't immediately tuck their tail between their legs at the sight of their uniform. Still, it couldn't go on forever and, however disrespectful the encounter had been, I really had to pee and go to bed at some point, so I handed them my passport, and my brother followed with his I.D. After having us empty our pockets of all contents, they got into their car - documents still in hand - and decided to make us wait for almost an hour (a childish attempt - that they made no effort to hide - at making us pay for our heresy.) At one point, they even threatened to use physical force on my brother, who had taken his phone out to capture the licence plate number. I can't say how long we would have waited had my Italian sister-in-law not come down from the apartment to see what was happening. The officers' demeanor immediately changed, and our I.D.s were promptly returned to us, upon seeing her. Of course, I would never advise anyone to handle an encounter with the police in this, or any country, like we did, and although I did take great pleasure in seeing their faces when they found out who my brother's father-in-law was - a very influential and highly respected member of the community - it all would have been much simpler had we acquiesced.

At the end of the day, I was very surprised by the contrast I saw between Trevisio and Prato, a city where immigrants, college students, businessmen, international visitors, and police all seem to tolerate one another for the most part. And while I certainly enjoyed my overall trip to Trevisio it also, in a strange way, served to increase my love for Tuscany. Though, I don't think I should be surprised, as Tuscany has always had -and continues to have - a reputation for forward and progressive thinkers, and their constant attempts at pushing the cultural boundaries that threaten to suffocate us. A comforting thought, indeed.