Eugi Gufo's siteEugi Gufo

My way of travelling differs from that of most people in several respects. For example, I do not research a place before visiting it for the first time. Why? Because prior research would inevitably lead me to seek physical confirmation of the information acquired. As a result, I would make far fewer personal discoveries — the sort that others have not considered sufficiently important to document. When I return for a second visit, however, I consult those who are better informed and ask for recommendations.
The method functions well, although exceptions occasionally occur — fortunately not often. I still wonder what force of nature persuaded me to explore Asola (in the Province of Mantua).
The cathedral of Asola is interesting externally; inside, it conveys the impression of an unfinished work. At first, I suspected wartime bombing. In reality, the French had already undertaken the necessary damage in the nineteenth century.

I noticed a couple of other apparently interesting churches, but their doors were closed. The matter ended there.

Most of the more attractive or noteworthy secular buildings are concealed in the least probable corners of the town.

Those openly displayed are relatively few.

A significant portion of a visitor’s time is therefore devoted to the search for discreet architectural incidents.

Occasionally, one has the sensation of having discovered something ancient — albeit in homeopathic quantities.

It is reasonable to assume that architectural concentration would be greatest in the centre. Asola’s main square does, in fact, make a favourable impression. Judging by the number of arcades, it might be considered a modest provincial annex of Bologna.

Beneath each arch stands a bollard designed to prevent the passage of cars. Approximately half of these bear signs prohibiting bicycles. One wonders how residents who wish to wheel their bicycles home manage the operation.

The most distinguished element of the square (which is also overlooked by the aforementioned cathedral) is the sixteenth-century fountain depicting Hercules defeating the Hydra.

The local population, however, appears considerably more engaged with contemporary realities. So engaged, indeed, that every restaurateur on the square secures their chairs with chains.

Public green spaces are limited in number and modest in size, though carefully maintained. Benches are found there — and almost nowhere else.

Under one of the central arches I encountered a street name plaque executed in a technique that is, for reasons unknown, nearly extinct in European cities.

The cultural life of Asola, as far as I was able to observe, is not extensive but remains interesting. For instance, there is a museum dedicated to everyday life in the 1990s and 2000s. One might consider taking children, younger siblings, or students there in order to demonstrate how strenuous and psychologically complex existence was before the arrival of high-speed internet.

I am uncertain whether today’s youth still watch television. As someone who was already struggling to understand its purpose in 2016, I find it difficult to justify the presence of a satellite dish of such generous proportions — unless it serves an unofficial broadcasting initiative.

As for material (rather than visual) waste, Asola’s litter bins are interesting, though not conventionally beautiful.

Believe me: publishing photographs of litter bins is far more constructive than publishing photographs of cats. It is the bins that improve our daily lives. The feline alternative tends to produce an excess of aesthetic noise.

Neon signage has become a rarity, which I regret; it possesses a certain nocturnal dignity.

I would, however, hesitate before placing unconditional trust in a fishmonger situated a few metres from a river of ambiguous yellow-brown character.

Yet only a few hundred metres from the centre, the visitor already has the impression of being in open countryside — and therefore, presumably, in a region of authentic agricultural virtue.

In any case, the road towards the railway station presents itself. It is time to depart for destinations of greater persuasive power.