So boring, in Bari...

Noioso, they say in Italian, a faux-ami I realize, meaning, not “noisy” but “boring”:
the daily repetition of small un-noteworthy events
which, being without grace, challenge the consciousness,
asking for some accountability...

The people who were born and grew up here
knowing the pattern of the streets
and the surface attractions, are surprised when I tell them 
how I love it, how endlessly fascinating it is
and not at all noioso...
Because beneath the paving stones, under the floors of old churches,
patient archaeologists have uncovered bright mosaic patterns, 
frescoed walls, pillars of ancient palaces
tombstones bearing Greek inscriptions
colours and ciphers from forgotten worlds;
so we can piece together cultures that fathered our own.

But not only is there a fascinating past: walking along the street I see 
Africans in long robes, or Arabs in their characteristic clothing, 
standing in small groups, chatting (sometimes licking a gelato)
and I wonder what they are discussing
(maybe the football match of yesterday)
and I remember what the guide told us about the decorations
on the stone capitals in Troia’s cathedral (north Puglia)
made possibly by Graeco-Arabs from Egypt, in the eleventh century;
artisans know no national boundaries.