Bunnies, Pig Legs, and Singsongs

I have been invited to join a choir after the holidays when I'm back in Bologna. Very few people really know the horrors of my singing voice (Rosa!) but I'm thinking of joining anyway. It's a huge group, and they sing international songs (when I visited the practice on Tuesday, they were singing in German, Bulgarian, and Bolognese dialect). And the girl I sat next to - an amazing soprano who's from Sardinia and studies Farsi in Bologna - told me very frankly that there are lots of bad singers in the choir and the conductor has encouraged them to work hard and improve. We'll see!

I wasn't actually there to observe the choir, per se. I've been trying to find some sort of volunteer work; after a search, I was directed to Centro Zonarelli, which acts as a sort of base for a bunch of different organizations that assist immigrants. I've been semi-adopted by Alessandra, who runs an organization that works with immigrant women - giving classes, helping with childcare, stuff like that - and they also started the choir, which is open to anyone who wants to join.

Alessandra studied English literature at university, and knows enough English to tell me that she's going to take advantage of my volunteering services. Unfortunately, she also offered my services to a friend of hers, who teaches Arabic to the children of Arabic-speaking immigrants. In other words, it's an Arabic class run in Italian. How I would manage to teach a language I don't know, at all, in a language I barely know, is a mystery. I don't think that will work out. Alessandra also told me very touchingly about the banquets that the center holds, in which there are people from "every country". She said (in a mixture of English and Italian) that when she's around lots of different people, she just "feels good", which is why she has this job. It seems strange, but I think that sometimes this language barrier - which I struggle with, sometimes miserably, every day - actually helps get a conversation down to its essence. When you have no choice but to get to the point, you're able to say things much more simply and clearly. So, I replied, "I feel good here too". Easy!

Just to keep up the food stories, last night I went to a traditional Bolognese restaurant with a big group, and we ordered the set menu. It included a bunch of things - pasta, lasagna, pork chops, chicken, potatoes (seriously, all of these things were placed in front of me) - and an entire pig leg. Well, sort of. The entire, long, white bone, with some meat on it. I am NOT a vegetarian, but even I was sort of taken aback when that thing landed on the table. Anyway, I was too full by then, so I just looked at it. It seems that there are two things that are present in every Bolognese meal: meat, and cream. This is not a place to eat healthily.

And a question: I was told by a British linguistics student that "strategize" isn't a real verb. Is that true?

Mom, for you. Guess who!

Vinegar Day-trip

Why is it that there are so many kinds of meat in the supermarket here? Rabbit, capone (that's a castrated rooster, I think), goose, duck, and . . . horse. Here.


On Saturday I took a day trip to Modena, the home of Ferrari and balsamic vinegar. Apparently it's the richest town in Italy, which is hard to believe after seeing Capri. But, it was much smaller and more manageable than Bologna, and lots of nice cobblestoned streets and Christmas lights. About Christmas lights - I love the way Italians light up every street with little lights in different shapes and garlands. In Bologna, even the two towers are lit up. Recently the setting on the lights was changed so that they flicker. It's magical - and always surprising, since there's no continuity from street to street.

Anyway, I went to Modena to see a show by Steve McCurry, one of my favorite photojournalists. He's the guy who took this photo, and a lot of other amazing ones too. The show was a semi-auction being held in a tiny museum outside the city. Following McCurry's wishes, the museum had printed hardcover books covering his work, and they were giving them out for free. I was very happy, and I felt lucky not to be bidding on the prints, which seemed to be making a lot of people depressed and frustrated.

Then I found a shop selling natural balsamic vinegar ranging from a year to 40 years old. The owner let me try a bunch of different kinds, in spoonfuls. My stomach started burning but it was very good. Also, the older it gets, the sweeter the vinegar tastes - and it's very thick, like syrup. Apparently you can eat it with just about anything. (I didn't mean to start talking about food again.)

Here's a photo of Modena - it's crooked, but it still gives you a general idea.

Finally, if you liked Rize . . . The Krumpers came to Bologna! The city sponsored a huge, crazy show in the main square that was supposedly televised all over the country. There were singers, acrobats, tightrope walkers, and special effects (the city hall burst into "flames"). And Tommy the Clown. A very strange combination of things, but it was fun anyway, especially because of all the young people here. The crowd was huge.

Citrus

I just spent the whole week at a course on business auditing (how to determine if a factory employs children, forced labor, freedom of association, etc) and I am very tired. It was harder than college. And there was a two hour exam at the end. So, I'm tired. But I just bought a big bag of oranges and I'm going to make juice at home, which I'm very excited for.



Also, I learned a new term this week: "mobbing". It's what Italians use to refer to what happens when someone is forced to quit their job due to harassment and intimidation. I have no idea how the English word ended up with that meaning, but they couldn't understand why I didn't already know what it meant. So we were confused together.

I've never seen such tiny oranges as the ones in this photo. How do you eat them?

Walking to Work

Wow, I really wish that I had taken this photo, but I found it online and had to put it up here. What it says is, "Today I get up and I go on strike", and it's very appropriate because today Bologna's public transportation is on strike. After learning for years about the endless striking of the Italian labor unions, I get to experience it firsthand. It's not as fun as it looks, but it was pretty eerie to see all the buses heading back to wherever they come from with "Out of Service" tags - at 8:30 this morning when the strike began. I almost didn't make it to work today. However, the union does the labor force a favor by calling off the strike during rush hour, so that working people can get to work and home. Apparently strikes are so commonplace that no one really pays attention - the posters plastered all over the bus stops didn't even say what the strike was for.

Speaking of buses, Italy has a really interesting way of checking the tickets of passengers: the honor system. If you don't stamp your ticket when getting on the bus - or if you don't even buy a ticket - no one will know. Unless the ticket inspectors come, and then they will yell at you and fine you. And - even if you read in your guidebook that the inspectors don't ever show up - they do. And they are not nice. That's all I'm going to say about that. I stamp my ticket every day now.

One more quick story about food. This week I went with my boss and some other coworkers to a regional restaurant in the hills outside the city. There I was treated to a lard sandwich. Real lard. Whipped up with bacon bits, garlic, herbs, and parmesan cheese - and it almost sounds good, but really it's not so yummy. Though I have to admit I ate my whole sandwich, because I didn't want to seem rude.

This is what all the sidewalks of Bologna look like. There's some saying that you can get wherever you want to go in the city without ever getting hit by a drop of rain. (Not true.)