There Is Nothing There
My sister says the south of Marche has nothing. She's never lived in rural Canada.
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We were done having dinner when my sister turned toward me and said, “By the way, should you ever return to Italy, don’t move to the south of Marche. There is f**k all there.”
I have a very good internet connection at home. 1.5 Gbps of fiber-optic. Rarely down. Recently, while staying at a guesthouse in Assisi, my fiancée Alicia asked me, “Is the Wi-Fi slow for you as well?”
“Yeah, a bit,” I replied. I checked. 42 Mbps. Forty-two through fifteenth-century stone walls in a hilltop town is just short of a technological miracle. Yet, it felt slow and frustrating.
The internet connection I use most often has skewed my perception of what fast and slow mean. How quickly we adapt.
From my sister’s point of view, living in Pesaro, a relatively large city by Marche standards, the south of the region does appear to have “un cazzo di niente” (f**k all).
Was she right? Let’s contextualize what nothing means, through my adoptive North American eyes. Because it matters when you relocate from abroad. Are you moving to “nothing”?
F**k all vs Un cazzo di niente
Alicia and I love day trips. We also have a problem. Every time we consider going somewhere for a day trip, we realize that even driving 3 hours straight, there is essentially nothing.
Now, the Okanagan in British Columbia is beautiful. People pay good money to come to this area on holiday. If you love fishing, boating, hiking, drinking wine, there is lots to do.
I’m not arguing that there is nothing to do here for the right person. But it’s all mono-thematic. It’s a good place for the outdoors.
Within a 3-hour drive, you get Salmon Arm, Vernon, Kelowna, Kamloops, Merritt, Osoyoos, and Greenwood (the smallest city in Canada).
Towns that are essentially larger or smaller versions of Penticton, where we live, with not much to do outside of the aforementioned outdoor activities.
If you like art, history, theater, music, beautiful bookstores, culinary experiences, cultural events, exploring cities on foot, and so on, the Okanagan becomes a desert metaphorically as well. Kelowna has a gallery and a university. Granted. But the culture is thin.
And that’s with a car. There are no trains available locally.
F**k all, as we were saying.
My sister characterized the south of Marche in similar terms. I’ll concede that there are more lively places, especially for young people. Pesaro is certainly more vibrant than a small town in the province of Fermo.
But “un cazzo di niente” is not quite rural North American “f**k all.” And the Okanagan, compared to many parts of this country, is hardly rural in the first place.
The Fermo, Macerata, and Ascoli Piceno provinces preserve most of the outdoor playground options available in the Okanagan (with the sea in place of lakes). And they add a whole lot more.
Ascoli Piceno is cut from travertine; its Piazza del Popolo is among the most beautiful squares in the country.
Macerata keeps one of Italy’s oldest universities and fills a nineteenth-century open-air arena, the Sferisterio, for a serious summer opera festival.
Recanati was Leopardi’s town; the hill of “L’Infinito” is still there to experience.
Fermo hides Roman cisterns beneath its streets, and a frescoed library and cathedral at its top.
Nearly every town of any size holds onto its own historic theater. Marche is known as “la terra dei cento teatri” (the land of a hundred theaters).
Then there is the food. You don’t even need to drive anywhere, because ciauscolo, vincisgrassi, olive ascolane, and some great wines are all in town. Plus all the sagre (food festivals) nearby.
So my sister is right: Fermo is quiet. It is. But quiet is not nothing. And when you move from abroad, you don’t live only in a town. You live in what it can reach.
Within a 3-hour window of, say, Porto San Giorgio in my own Fermo province, you have:
North: Ancona, Pesaro, San Marino, Rimini, Ravenna, Bologna.
West: Urbino, the caverns at Frasassi, Assisi, Perugia, Spoleto, Orvieto, Arezzo, Rome.
South: Termoli, Pescara, L’Aquila, Foggia.
Some by car, but most even via train or bus. Yeah, the list above includes Rome. The Rome. The antithesis of nothing.
You can also reach half a dozen UNESCO World Heritage sites in less than 3 hours.
From Penticton, I can reach the COSTCO heritage site in Kelowna, since it moved and was replaced by a Canadian Tire.
Access to such cultural depth is missing in much of rural North America. Something that can’t be easily replaced.
To my starved North American eyes, “un cazzo di niente” in Italy is quiet and peaceful, with culture and excitement not too far away.
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Been to Marche twice. It’s quiet and beautiful. Fermo was one of my favourites 💫
My grandmother was from Torre di Palme, so if you run into any Stanghetta’s, say “Hi” for me 🙂