Sounds of Silence, Francisca Matias

from NOISE, FW 2020

by Glasgow University Union's Official Magazine

Sound of my Italian Summer, Susanna Zarli

TRAVEL Sound of my Italian Summer

SUSANNA ZARLI

When I landed in Italy in early July it was the fi rst time visiting my home country since the start of 2020. The long lockdown months spent in Glasgow had made me yearn to return home a bit more

than usual: overtaken by restlessness and anxiety

from not knowing when I’d be allowed to travel

again, I’d spent days and weeks fantasising about

the familiar sights I’ve grown up around. Needless

to say, despite the usual disorienting feelings that to say, despite the usual disorienting feelings that

often accompany every trip home for me, I found often accompany every trip home for me, I found

myself immediately wrapped up in the warm famyself immediately wrapped up in the warm fa

miliarity at the sight of the ornate and regal early miliarity at the sight of the ornate and regal early

1900s palaces of the Turin City centre or, on a 1900s palaces of the Turin City centre or, on a clear enough day, the beloved silhouette of the clear enough day, the beloved silhouette of the Alps cutting through the fog at the horizon. They Alps cutting through the fog at the horizon. They represented everything I’d missed during that represented everything I’d missed during that

long period of longing and uncertainty, and I immelong period of longing and uncertainty, and I imme

diately made a mental note to treasure them for diately made a mental note to treasure them for as long as I could. But to my surprise, the longer as long as I could. But to my surprise, the longer

my stay in Italy continued, the more I found mymy stay in Italy continued, the more I found my

self noticing all the different sounds and noises self noticing all the different sounds and noises that dictated the rhythm of my daily life as well. that dictated the rhythm of my daily life as well.

Being usually more focused on visuals, I was pleasantly surprised by discovering how alert I was while rediscovering the way Italy sounds. I per

ceive sounds as the most intimate and subjective part of the experience that is visiting somewhere, and the most diffi cult to replicate even in words or thoughts once one leaves. For this reasons some of the noises that caught my attention tugged at my heartstrings in a particular way: for example,

the quiet provincial village where my family lives was all chattering neighbours mixed with the lulling clattering of cowbells from the nearby farm, occasionally broken only by the passing of a train on the rail tracks behind my house. These immediately registered for me as the sounds of early mornings before school and late sleepless nights spent reading during my teenage years: the sounds of the Piedmontese province in all its serenity, which a younger version of me would often associate with an oppressive sense of dullness.

Halfway through July, I spent a few days visiting Halfway through July, I spent a few days visiting

my grandma in Turin in the sixth fl oor apartment my grandma in Turin in the sixth fl oor apartment

that once belonged to my parents, and in which I that once belonged to my parents, and in which I

spent my early years of life. From my fi rst night spent my early years of life. From my fi rst night

there, I immediately let myself fl oat in the familiar there, I immediately let myself fl oat in the familiar

sounds that one can only fi nd in a big city, and sounds that one can only fi nd in a big city, and

that are, to me, deeply rooted in the realm of that are, to me, deeply rooted in the realm of

my childhood memories. From the frequent cars my childhood memories. From the frequent cars

hurrying down busy streets to distant sirens dehurrying down busy streets to distant sirens de

manding urgent attention, to the corner shop manding urgent attention, to the corner shop downstairs shutting and opening its heavy iron gates, these noises that are so deeply connected with the frenzy and business of urban lifestyles were easily the most calming for me. As they reminded me of the city’s chaos still living on even after dark, they allowed me to sink into a peaceful state of awareness that I was just one of the thousands of bodies in thousands of buildings that crowded the streets of my hometown. There’s something extremely reassuring in feeling small in a big, always loud, always lively place.

Then came the sounds of holidays, as I visited friends in their own hometowns in different re

ilar in the way they enhanced my excitement

at discovering a new town, a new street, a new beach. For example, the cheery multilingual voices of innumerable tourists in a small, rocky beach in Liguria perfectly accompanied the sight of the clearest, sharpest blue sea I’d ever seen in my life; and the unfamiliar way the Southern cadence wrapped around the Benevento dialect was a

thrilling experience all of its own, reminding me of my country’s never-ending cultural richness.

As I write this in my Glasgow fl at, still struggling Sounds of Silence FRANCISCA MATIAS

The Sound of Silence - Modern life seems full of noise, and travel can be an excellent way of escape. Write about a trip that helped you cut out the noise, whether it was a retreat, a road trip or something different!

Ah road trips!!! Being from Portugal, I’ve always your friends when all of you pass your driver’s license (or at least one of you while the others to rid myself of that giddy holiday mood that’s to rid myself of that giddy holiday mood that’s always quite hard to shake until a few days afalways quite hard to shake until a few days after one’s return, I think back to all the different ter one’s return, I think back to all the different

sounds that guided my day: this one city, too, sounds that guided my day: this one city, too, different languages, dialects and slangs and yet different languages, dialects and slangs and yet they stir in me a much different sense of familiaritythey stir in me a much different sense of familiarity than those of Turin, and a different thrill from the than those of Turin, and a different thrill from the

tourists in Liguria, and again a different kind oftourists in Liguria, and again a different kind of calm from the sometimes unbearable quiet of my calm from the sometimes unbearable quiet of my

village. The biggest advice I can fi nd in me at thevillage. The biggest advice I can fi nd in me at the

moment for any traveler, including myself from moment for any traveler, including myself from

now on, is inevitably to collect and make treasure now on, is inevitably to collect and make treasure of all the different noises you hear in a new place: of all the different noises you hear in a new place: even just the passing of a car will feel different toeven just the passing of a car will feel different to