We travelled to Ferrara to see the opening of Patti Smith's art exhibition Strange Messenger. She also read poetry in the newly opened Palazzo Schifanoia (which means 'take-a-hike-boredom'), which was the palace of entertaiment for the ruling Este family.

Jeroen and I had been in Ferrara before, although Jeroen doesn't remember. It was dark and cold, late October, and I remember being excited about seeing the city that Giorgio Bassani described so well in Il giardino dei Finzi-Contini, one of my favorite post-war Italian novels. It was turned into a fairly tacky version by Vittorio de Sica.

Maybe De Sica, being from Naples, didn't get Ferrara. It is a dark and mysterious city, though not in an unwelcoming way. When we arrived there seven years ago, it was 6pm and the city was closing up shop. Most people went home, on their bikes. Ferrara has more bycicles per capita than Amsterdam! Some continued to chat in the streets, but soon enough the place was deserted.

The locals are very polite and patient, more so than in the rest of Italy. They are not hurried and cranky; after all, they might miss out on a valuable piece of gossip. The city oozes bourgeois values. Best example of which (apart from Bassani) is the filmmaker Michelangelo Antonioni, who is from Ferrara too. I want to go back.