Autumn XIX. Italy

Intro & Preface & Contents

Previous: Autumn XVIII. Flawless day + The Old Contemptibles

I was at ramble in the lanes, when, from somewhere at a distance, there sounded the voice of a countryman -- strange to say -- singing. The notes were indistinct, but they rose to my ear with a moment’s musical sadness, and of a sudden my heart was stricken with a memory so keen that I knew not whether it was pain or delight. For the sound seemed to me that of a peasant’s song which I once heard whilst sitting among the ruins of Paestum. The English landscape faded before my eyes. I saw great Doric columns of honey-golden travertine;  between them, as I looked one way, a deep strip of the sea;  when I turned, the purple gorges of the Apennine;  and all about the temple, where I sat in solitude, a wilderness dead and still but for that long note of wailing melody... All the delight I had known in Italian travel burned again within my heart, The old spell has not lost its power... the southern sunlight, cannot fade from my imagination, and to dream of its glow upon the ruins of old time wakes in me the voiceless desire which once was anguish.

In his Italienische Reise, Goethe tells that at one moment of his life the desire for Italy became to him a scarce endurable suffering...

Alpha.

Why is it, do you suppose, that no one can mention Italy in a book without including some mention of Goethe? Just the other day I was reading The Family That Couldn’t Sleep (a book about prion disease) and when the author introduced us to this suffering family of the Venento, or Venetian terra firma, he had to toss in a quote from Goethe. Maybe I am just sensitive to this as I’m laboring over Faust, but the man does seem to be everywhere. Anything that touches on the late 18th or early 19th centuries, especially if it involves Italy, often includes some reference to Goethe. You would think the German Romantics discovered the place after it had been lost to civilization for ages.

Bank Cafes.

At the Bank Cafe again this morning and the place is hopping. Nearly every seat at every table, plus the sofas and super comfortable upholstered chairs (that I can never get to anymore) are occupied. This online bank and the resulting cafes were the inspiration of a banker who thought “outside the box.” The idea was to give a European bank exposure to the U.S. market, with very little capital investment, and to give customers a better interest rate on their savings (because the bank’s costs of doing business were lower.) Until the Great Recession, this worked swimmingly, and I transferred the bulk of my liquid assets here and encouraged others to do the same. Then interest rates fell to nothing and the bank was acquired by an established U.S. bank. Now I keep my money here because there’s no obviously better place, and I do like to support the cafe.

The “bank” staff recently got out of the cafe serving business, so they are no longer the people behind the counter serving food and drinks -- that’s now the Peet’s staff. But, while the bank staff is now free to do banking support full time, that doesn’t include many basic banking services like processing deposits and giving out cash and rolls of coins. This is still an online bank and they primarily sell new customers on the idea and help people use the software on their smartphones, tablets, and laptops. Frankly, they don't usually seem to have anything to do.

My “other” bank -- where I have my primary checking account -- also flirted with the idea of branches that offered more non-banking services. One of the branches I use most often was redesigned to include a Starbucks cafe and a dry cleaners (there may have been something else, too but I can’t remember what it was). The only thing I like about Starbucks is their WiFi which is better (and much better designed from the point of view of the business) than almost anywhere else. (They now also have decent pastries since they acquired the 2nd best local French bakery). And the bank offers all the usual banking services, so I can go there to get rolls of quarters for laundry -- the only reason I really need a non-online bank. Over the years my bank reclaimed most of the space except for the cafe.

If it weren’t for Starbucks’ bizarre fetish for shaken iced tea, and their annoying naming of beverage sizes (tall?, venti?, grande?), I would have to prefer the model of my regular bank. But the Bank Cafe is two blocks closer and a bit cheaper, so here I am.

Next: Autumn XX. Wine and war.