Last week, I was invited to a literary festival in the Italian city of Cuneo, not far from Turin. The festival is named scrittorincitta and just for the sheer pleasure of being in the beautiful town of Cuneo, I urge every author to go there. Readers who happen not to understand Italian or not to like books can go to Cuneo for the truffles or Cafe Arione.
Cafe Arione is the place where they sell the local speciality Cuneesi al Rhum. It is recommended to every true of lover of chocolate or rum, or both.
And for those who need a better excuse, Hemingway visited Cafe Arione.
But then, the festival. Once again, I found myself sitting in a rather depressing conference room being interviewed by a guy who worked as a public notary when he was not busy reviewing books.
That doesn’t mean that he wasnt’t decent. I have nothing against public notaries. It was just that I could not understand his questions. To some, the distinction between a monologue and a question is non-existent.
But anyone who has tasted Cuneesi al Rhum is happy to answer questions about where the Dutchness of a Dutch writer is for 27 people in the audience (many of whom left before the end of the event).
After Cuneo, I traveled to, among other places, Dublin. On the flight from Geneva to Dublin, I read an article in the inflight magazine from Aer Lingus about Krakow and its surroundings.
Auschwitz was praised as a tourist destination. Of course, we all know Auschwitz became a tourist destination. But does that mean that it has to be praised like this: “The sheer size and scale of Birkenau and its air of systematic efficiency is extraordarily chilling and will leave you shaken to the core.” Shaken to the core.
When Auschwitz is recommended as if it were the latest attraction in Disney World, I wonder if my future isn’t go to be investment banking.