As I mentioned in my previous post, we’re staying in a remarkably charming town named Rubiera, which lies just a tad bit outside of the city of Modena. Seated in the Province of Reggio Emilia in the Italian region Emilia-Romagna, Rubiera is a small player in the tourist trade. With a population that maxs out around roughly 11,00o people, it’s not exactly the kind of place that a guidebook would highlight, which is perhaps exactly why it seems so special.
The place drips with a surely kind of physical history that seems almost implausible if it weren’t for the way in which its story gets told. This afternoon while sitting outside of our hotel, one of the two sisters who run the Arnaldo - Clinica Gastronomica hotel ran us through a quick variant of the tale, which is to say an hour and half of storytelling filled with drinks, tidbits and cigarette smoke…
Apparently it seems that the Arnaldo started its life as a horse stable of all things. Sitting three buildings (notice buildings, not blocks) down from the main intersection of the town, it seems like a reasonable place to have put your horses up when you rode into town. But as the world moved forward and the need for a stable declined the place fell into disrepair. Eventually a fire roared through and burnt the place to the ground. What was left was then rebuilt in some fashion, again as a horse stable, until 18th or 19th century a local village occupant asked the duke of the area if they could turn the building into an inn. This wish was granted and an inn was born. The downstairs stabled quickly were transformed into a kitchen, restaurant, and two sitting rooms, while the upstairs portion was reconfigured to house approximately forty small rooms. This original version of the hotel opened to much success until another fire charred a section of the building once more. Eventually in 1936 a family purchased the inn and restored it. Given the culinary reputation of the Reggio Emilia region it probably shouldn’t be surprising that their first goal was to create a world-class restaurant. Once that was done, the family took charge and handcrafted an amazingly vibrant and yet familial environment for travelers to reside within. Today the third generation still runs the place and it’s 180º in the opposite direction of any other hotel I’ve ever stayed at.
One of the most remarkable things about the Arnaldo hotel is that no one sequesters themselves away in their rooms, but instead spends their time hanging out either downstairs in the foyer or outside on the patio. This creates a lively multicultural combustion that forces you to interact with a dozen people you would have never met or talked to. No other hotel I’ve ever stayed at even comes close to this kind of interaction with total strangers.
I suppose in some respects this is the kind of moment that comes straight out of a romantic image of what a small European Inn is supposed to be like. Sitting outside with either a beer or a cappuccino in your hand and soaking in the atmosphere is special because it takes time to enjoy. It’s the antithesis of the modern, move at a fast pace world. Nothing happens fast here, but rather you have to allow yourself to let the world that’s seated before you reveal itself. If you can do that while placating your nicotteen fit and internet withdrawls, the environment allows you to feel like you’re part of the world you’re traveling in, not just a visitor to it. And as the hot air wafts over, if you let yourself listen to the vibrant life that’s in motion surrounding your, something magical happens. Suddenly you’re not just part of this moment, but a thousand other ones as well.
There’s only been one other time in my life (when I was in Scotland) were I felt like I was sitting in the cauldron of our collective history. It’s a concept that I can’t quite get over, hence the numerous references to it, because when you’re from the States you tend to think of the past as having started in 1776 or thereabouts. As Americans we like to believe, or at least our school system supports, the notion that what’s modern was born on the 4th of July. We think of time in our terms, not necessarily in the well-established framework of world history. In this respect the US is a far younger country by comparison. Younger that we sometimes realize. So when you sit in a place like Rubiera that played a nearly insignificant role in the evolution of today’s world, yet clearly was around for the entire Darwinistic process you find yourself feeling how much further time actually goes back compared to what you’re used to imagining. Textbooks simply don’t convey this kind of residual energy or this kind of latent atmosphere. What’s new here is very old by our standards and the very paths you walk take you much further back than the inscription that lies on the doorstep of Independence Hall.
Some picts from yesterday…
The Alps
More Alps
And lots of tunnels in the Alps!
On the way to Modena
Lots of bikers on the road…
Dinner at the Arnaldo…
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