I have two favorite pastimes when traveling to a new city. First, and foremost, I love exploring cafes, until I find my personal favorite. Then I return to it, usually on every day of my stay.
Next, I trust my GPS to get me to a library or two. By the time I arrive in a new city, I already have a list of notable libraries, having assembled the list when planning my journey.
Bologna, Biblioteca Salaborsa
Although the current library dates only from 2001, Salaborsa has a compelling history. In modern times, the building has housed a telegraph office, a basketball court, and a puppet theatre. Before these, the site was a central hub for public proclamations of justice, as long ago as 189 BC.
Today, one walks through the main hall, above a transparent floor, and can see ancient excavations from the 7th century BC. After several centuries of decline, very little remained of the Roman era by the Early Middle Ages. Throughout the next several hundred years, the structure was reimagined many times.
I felt privileged to experience the building’s stunning beauty, while consciously thinking about its extraordinary history.
Public library, Bologna
Cremona, Biblioteca Statale
This public library is, unsurprisingly, a very old structure. I greatly appreciated not only, its quiet elegance, but especially its designated, “silent area.” This isn’t an experience I have very often in the U.S. I smiled when I saw the sign and grinned even larger during the thirty minutes I sat in the large space. At least thirty patrons, of various ages, sat at the sturdy rectangular tables, all of which faced front. I heard only one whisper from a young girl, who immediately turned to me with an apologetic smile.
Coincidentally, or not, I noticed that my seat had a view of the travel section. There, I retrieved a Florida travel guide from 1998. Funny.
I learned that the library had only recently begun to add titles in other languages. On an inconspicuous shelf next to an empty desk, I found this international section. About 200 titles sat upright on the shelf, 65 in English. The remainder represented French, German, Spanish, and Tedesco, another variation of German.
Always connected to the deep sound of the cello, I had attempted to learn to play in my early 60s. Once each week, I drove to The Music Den for my lesson, but the pandemic hit. Another year went by, and I relocated, still dreaming of the cello, but distracted by my attempt to build a new life. Five years later, in the fall of 2024, I read, “Lev’s violin.” The story takes the reader to Cremona, Italy, where Andrea Amati designed and built the first cello first cello in the 1500s. Thus began a series of omens on a trip.
Cello Omen #1
Shortly after that, an omen, disguised as an article in the New York Times “appeared” to me. The subject was a young woman, who at an early age, decided that she would make violins. After multiple searches and segues, I found Ayoung An’s email, and in March 2025, sent her a message. Not fully expecting her to respond, I smiled madly when I received a message from Ayoung. a few weeks later. I confessed the reason for my contact, asked if I could meet her if I came to Cremona, and waited. Ayoung’s response was all the impetus I needed, and I proceeded to plan a trip, inspired by, and including a visit to Cremona, the birthplace of the Stradivarius violin and cello, and home to at least 150 “luthiers.”
Cello Omen #2
I put thoughts of violin makers and cello makers aside for my arrival in Cremona. But, in Montepulciano, the omens continued. My daughter wanted to see Montepulciano, and stand in the famous Piazza Grande, the location for a powerful scene in the film, “New Moon,” from the Twilight Saga. Prior to the film’s release in 2009, this square played a central role in Montepulciano, offering breathtaking views of the Tuscan landscape, along with notable Renaissance architecture.
Passing through the piazza before resting on the steps of Cathedral Santa Maria Assunta, I spotted a poster, obviously an omen. I had no idea that this city, known for its rich Vino Nobile di Montepulciano, housed the European Academy of Arts. I’m sure that my daughter wished I hadn’t seen the advertisement for the evening’s strings concert. She humored me as we entered the Palazzo Ricci, apparently the only Americans to do so. What followed were lovely performances by the academy’s students.
A few days later, my daughter and I left Montepulciano, and returned to Rome so that she could go home. The next morning, we arrived at Leonardo da Vinci International Airport. Zoë began her trip home, and I began my voyage to Cremona. Several train rides later, I finally arrived at the Cremona station. The sole person to exit the train here, I doubted the intelligence of my plan. Upon arrival at the cobblestoned street of Vicolo Pertusio, I regained excitement for my plan. I unpacked, and wandered out to find some gelato. Yum. Definitely worth a stop here!
Cello Omen #4
After hours in the Museo del Violino, during which I cried, for reasons I cannot explain, I wandered for a few hours. I passed one luthier shop after another before arriving at Ayoung’s workshop, Arietti String. Expecting that the anticipation of my visit was one-sided, I was touched by her welcome. She told me that she was honored to meet me, and gifted me with a new box of rosin for my soon-to-be-rented cello. She asked if she could take a photo to remember me by, and we shared both a hug and a few tears at our parting.
After our meeting, I walked in and out of cobblestoned streets, and felt grateful, and determined to play the cello, at least a little.
Cello Omen #5
The next day, after a full day of wandering throughout the small city, I made my way back to my lodging.
When I arrived, I encountered a couple, a bit older than me, standing at the entrance to the Airbnb. Of course, I entered into full conversation with these strangers, as I usually do. Lillian and Bill, an American couple from Oregon had arrived from Venice, and after a long, personal conversation, I discovered that Lillian was a cellist and teacher! She was so supportive of my passion and encouraged me not to ignore it. We parted, me, with tears and an exchange of numbers. Lillian and I agreed that there were “no coincidences.” We have been in touch several times since.
Cello Omen #6
I met Lillian and Bill on my last night in Cremona. The next morning, I hobbled along cobblestones, with a suitcase whose wheels didn’t fully cooperate. Eventually, I boarded my train, and arrived in Lyon.
My morning began with a fabulous small-group tour with Aidan, from “Get Your Guide.” Afterwards, I ambled around Lyon’s 1st arrondissement. I found myself at Place Louis Pradel, where a cellist was playing in front of the Hotel de Ville (town hall). After he finished his song, I dropped a euro in his cello case, and he smiled and voiced, “Merci.” Once again, I felt compelled to tell him that I was beginning cello lessons again, telling this in a self-deprecating manner and referring to my age. The young man spoke sweetly and, in congratulated me on my decision to start. Being encouraged, in French, spoke volumes to me.
Cello Omen #7
Lyon is not a city known for makers of violins and cellos. When I walked from 1st arrondissement to the 2nd, searching for an appealing spot for lunch, I turned to face the storefront of Jean-Yves Rouveyre, Luthier.
Lessons
I rented a cello a few weeks after I arrived home, and am on my way, slowly.
