Lanterna Encounter

This story is part of the literary competition created by In Trieste magazine in collaboration with Comune di Trieste called “Stories from Trieste to the World” which was open to all female writers living in Trieste as part of the annual “Festa della Donna” initiative by the city of Trieste.

by Asya Gefter

Trieste is home to anyone with a story to tell. Throughout its history, to a greater or lesser extent, Trieste has been the point of connection, the place in between, the terminus. It’s a quirky space, a state of mind and soul that the pandemic conjugated for me. 

My Trieste happened first as an idea, following my probing steps through Moscow of my childhood, London of my adulthood; Sarajevo, Lviv and Berlin whereabouts I was seeking a place between East and West, North and South. Trieste’s borderland dualities matched my personality and life path, and so I decided to try to live here. Having spent here five winter weeks acquainting myself with the city and its people, photographing at the Trieste Film Festival and Giorno della Memoria, on 14 February 2020 I flew back to London with the plan to return at the vernal equinox.

My momentum to move to Trieste waxed and waned during the two months of London’s Spring lockdown. I kept reminding myself of why and how I fell for Trieste and those memories kept me going. In June, once the borders opened, an opportunity to rent a small apartment in via Navali on the border of San Vito and San Giacomo came about. I leapt at it. My logistics turned into a bit of a saga with canceled tickets, 22hrs in the eerie transit zone of the Budapest Airport and eventually a zigzag journey London-Budapest-Milan-Trieste.

Three days after I arrived was my first ever swim in the Adriatic, to mark my 40th birthday. Watching the sunlit Trieste, the Karst and the open sea, I could hardly believe my luck and good fortune of choosing this place to be my home.

In the following months, I explored the Karst paths, city neighborhoods, visited museums and galleries, met like-minded people, listened to their stories of Austro-Hungarian, Italian, Slovenian, Jewish, Greek, Serbian and seemingly endless Trieste, discussed the beauty and challenges of life here, joined démonstrationss against homophobie, xénophobie and racism, brainstormed project ideas and made future plans.

I had my ups and downs settling here, at times doubting myself as well as human nature, doubts intensified by the pandemic challenges. Still, I continued exploring and connecting, taking photographs and videos of the Adriatic, particularly on the days when the gentle colors of the sky and the sea merged into one. I discovered the healing powers of the sea – it made me feel calm, absorbed and lifted by the landscape. I could breathe and sense the past, the present and the future. Woody Guthrie’s words often came to mind – This land is your land, and this land is my land.. 

Slowly I started finding my ground here. One sunny Sunday in February I sat not far from La Lanterna watching people and boats, took my phone out, downloaded the Tinder app (how many times have I installed and deleted it?) and started swiping. A split second to make a decision, left or right. Sometimes a few seconds to read the profile. 

Saqib, 41. Informatica. 1 km away. A few photos, no single word in the profile. I never ‘liked’ anyone without some text. Yet, in that split second I swiped right. A match it was. I sent a brief message – ‘Ciao Saqib. Come va?’ and put the phone away. A few moments later I took the phone out – there was a reply.  

By Wednesday I knew that Saqib loved history and poetry, studied journalism and political science, left Pakistan nine years ago, navigated through half a dozen of EU countries before starting his new life in Trieste two years ago. We clicked immediately, which is the most natural thing in life yet nearly impossible to find, online or offline. It felt like it took 40 years for each of us to get here; 40 years of wandering in the deserts of our worlds. 

Day after day I am learning about Saqib’s inner world of skepticism and hopefulness, irony and self-irony, intelligenceand curiosity, affection and much more. Growing up in Pakistan, Saqib rejected the religion and became an atheist. He also developed an interest in the Jewish mind and psyche. Little did he know that one day he would meet a European Jew from Moscow and London who recently started reclaiming her Jewishness through research and her art. 

Trieste brought us together during these ever-changing times. I trusted my guts and chose it as my home: Trieste responded to my openness and perseverance. Here is a picture inside Revoltella’s camera obscura that I took on the last day before the city museums closed once again – a picture that encapsulates our Lanterna encounter via the vehicle of Tinder.