Experiential Paper

Jessie Savini
Experiential paper

Old Town Ventimiglia
On the Friday of our three day weekend, I was feeling adventurous. With no classes or responsibilities for the next three days, Europe was my canvas to do, go, or see whatever my heart desired. So I decided to go to Italy. I grabbed Michelle and Melissa, and off we went to the little town of Ventimiglia. This turned out to be one of the best decisions I made during my time in France. The day was nothing less than perfect, with the best part being the two hours we spent exploring Old Town Ventimiglia.
After wandering around for a few hours in what I now know is the new part of town, we ended up meeting a nice Italian woman named Maria. When we asked her about the history of the town and the nearby fortress overlooking the ocean, she told us that “every old European city has an Old Town. They all have an old church, and some will also have a castle nearby – and most are surrounded by some sort of wall which was built to keep pirates out.” Maria then told us that we needed to get away from the tourist scene in the new part of town to have an authentic Italian experience, and she was more than happy to share the secrets of her town with us. After telling us how to reach old town, she said goodbye and we went on our way.
And so we started the trek to Old Town. Over the bridge, under the tunnel, up the hill. How did she say to get there, again? Did we pass it? I could see the steeple of the church, but could not find out how to get there. About to give up, we decided to take a side street that we passed earlier to see where it led us. This “street” could not really even be considered a street – barely big enough for a motorcycle to have driven through, it was a steep uneven cobblestone road. Skeptical that we would ever find what we were looking for and not knowing if the dimly lit path would take us anywhere, I was about ready to turn around. It is a good thing we did not give up, because after a few more minutes we rounded a corner in our path and saw a scene which looked like something from a movie. We had found Old Town. And it was already what I expected and more.
Here we were: Old Town Ventimiglia. I heard children laughing in the distance, I saw clothes hanging to dry from windows above me, and I smelled bread baking in a small bakery nearby. Kids were playing soccer in the small piazza in the heart of town, while their mothers watched on from the steps of the church. I almost sensed that I was imposing on someone’s hidden secret that no one was supposed to know about. I felt like I was tiptoeing around someone backyard, a place that I did not belong. But no one seemed to mind. While we got a few questioning stares, most of the people gave us friendly smiles that seemed to understand our appreciation and respect for their town.
We explored the little town for hours. We went down little side streets, trying to get lost on purpose to see where it would take us. The sights, smells, and sounds were like nothing I had ever heard before. The town was remarkably beautiful in its own dilapidated way – the church, buildings, and shops each seemed to tell the stories of the history of town. I could smell delicious food cooking from the open windows of apartments above me. I could picture the homemade lasagna, gnocchi, and spaghetti that belonged to those scents. I could hear the friendly conversations as neighbors passed each other on the street – recognizing that everyone in town had probably known each other since childhood. I could only wonder what these people would think about me if they came to my neighborhood and saw how I lived.
Old Town was full of character and personality: there were kids playing soccer in the town square under the bell tower, there were old men sitting outside talking and looking like they were straight from a movie, and the women were gossiping and yelling from their windows to the other women. The views were also gorgeous; at the top of the hill that Old Town is perched upon we were able to see the whole town and the ocean coastline for miles.
As I sat at the top of the town and tried to take in everything I had seen, I began to understand why people would want to live there. Maria had told us earlier that the families of most people in Ventimiglia had been living there for generations, but I was not able to comprehend why people would stay in this tiny town until I witnessed the way of life in Old Town. I realized why the people of Ventimiglia would want to live the same repetitive life that their ancestors had laid out years and years before: it was the simple things in life that drew them back time and time again. Life seemed to move slower, and I felt as though I had traveled back in time about fifty years. The pace of life appeared much more leisurely in Ventimiglia, and people really seemed to savor each and every moment. It is an oasis of harmony. A little slice of heaven in a fast-paced and frantic world.