The First Impression

I love the first day in a new city.You get out of your place of stay and you can turn and walk to any direction. Every single street is a 'road not taken.'And if you have come to live in the city, what catches your eye are different from what you would see as a tourist. You notice the supermarket, sees the post office, looks at the bus numbers and memorize their routes. And from the centre of Ferrara I noticed at least three buses that could take me to the railway station, which in any case is a one half hour walk from my first floor studio apartment in via Ragno; and I relaxed. I am a born claustrophobic. Lifts scare me. so does closed windows.I realized that all through these months in Mação there was a knot in my chest that has now come undone. And, it had to do with the fact that it is not easy to get out of the place.

First day in a new place has still more in store. There is no notion in anybody's mind of who you are. You could throw off all those inhibitions and little habits which make you feel clumsy and stupid, that you some how acquired in your last place of stay. So I was justifiably elated on my first day in Ferrara. I thought my apartment was lovely. It was compact and set with one of those cream and blue mobile furniture units. For one thing it was more a student's apartment than our mansion in Mação ever was! So I do a little twirl on one leg and land with grace on the sand- coloured chair set near the window. And Crash!! the chair split into splinters and I along with the seat rest land neatly on the ground. I can sense my spine, its exact shape and length. My legs are hung over the part of the frame that is still holding on. Believe me!, I might not be a skinny beauty, but no chair has ever crushed under my weight before.

With that little morale booster I set out early next morning into Ferrara.I take one of the bunches of keys that Cecilia left on my table the evening before and slam the door shut and tight. Then I turn back, for I have forgotten something. But try as I might the door would not open. Perhaps the keys got mixed up! But there is no way I am going to panic on my first day.This can be figured out later.

The city of Ferrara is the capital city of a province by the same name in Northern Italy and is about half an hour train ride tilted north east from Bologna. Ferrara is mostly known for its Renaissance glory. As I walk my landmarks are elegant late medieval structures. Even my appartment seems to be housed in one such ancient facade. But today I do not linger anywhere for too long. I am getting an overview, so to speak. The streets of Ferrara are broad and traffic moderate. It is a bicycle city. The young and old pass swiftly on their bikes. It takes me a while to figure out the different lanes for pedestrians and bikers and narrowly miss a little boy doing a full tilt right on to me.

I walk through the medieval brick walls. The city is still surrounded by about nine kilometers of what is perhaps the best preserved medieval walls in Europe. I walk past the castle Estense and a lovely Romanesque cathedral. Opposite the Diamond Palace, the seat of the national gallery, I locate my department, the Centre for Evolution and Biology.I have a meeting here at four in the evening with the course director Martha Azarello. But there is still time. So I walk past the building and step out from the lane to what is marked Parco Massari in my map. The park is lovely with with winding paths and benches. I sit on a bench taking in the fading sunlight and think ofthe spring months to come when I would sit here with a novel in my hand, much like in movies. (Talking of movies; Michaeolangelo Antonioni spend his childhood in Ferrara. WIm wenders and Antonioni's, Beyond the Clouds was shot here. So was De- Sica's . The Garden of the Finzi-Continis. And there is much more that i hope to explore later. Sreejith, I wish you for one could come here.)

So at half past three, I reach the department to give Cecilia the bad news. Cecilia calls the agent. It appears that my landowner is now in Canary Island! and there is nothing to be done till he gets back. I think of the possibilities, park benches, youth hostels, a couch in a kind soul's house. Martha has come for our rendez- vous. Martha is an energetic, smart woman like Cecilia and with a friendly smile. When she hears about calamity, she asks me to go back and check once more to make sure if the keys are really really not working.

So off i go. This time dashing past the the church and the castle and barely glancing the medieval walls. I reach the apartment and try again- each key, up, down, tilted, slightly tilted- but nothing. So I rush back. By the time I climb the four floors to reach back to Martha and Cecilia, my heart is in my mouth.Martha and Cecilia magically rise to the occasion. There is a little tete- a- tete from which Cecilia emerges dramatically with her scarf drawn over her face like a robber's mask, and off we go again! Cecilia and Martha are both archaeologists working on stone tools. By this I mean, they can knap and shape and polish tools and use them with a skill that we have lost centuries ago. So breaking in to a house did not look like much of a task.

By the time we reach the house, I have already memorized all the shop names on the way. And we stand at the door all set for the operation. Then, just for a trial Martha tries the key. Well, the door opens!I could feel the embarrassment inside me much as I felt my spine the day before. If I were more white skinned, even the roots of my hair would have turned red. Thankfully both the women were good- humoured people. They had a good laugh all the way back to the department. And each time they look at my face which was now set in a permanent embarrassed grin, they would burst out laughing again. I do more things on the same day. I leave the folder with my documents conveniently behind in the office table and is called back to retrieve them.

I am a technology moron. Its not just keys that confound me. One day in Macao our friend Pedro made a bow and arrows, and all of us lined up as prehistoric archers to kill the palm tree in the yard. My arrow landed exactly two inches from where my feet was. And, only recently did I set my scarf aflame,, with my neck still wrapped inside.But I am happy for the entertainment i provide. And, Martha and Cecilia has promised me that they will never let me forget the first day in Ferrara till the day I finally leave.