It's my second December in Bologna. And it's clear that I've become significantly weaker in a year away from the East Coast. I find myself complaining constantly about the cold here, and it's not even that cold - but it's damp. So damp, actually, that my clothes keep getting moldy in my drawers. And I keep having to attack these scary mold-like growths on the walls of my bedroom. All the bleach in the world won't make that gunk go away permanently. This place is seriously damp.
The cold has resulted in a few heating wars in my house, most notably last week. There have been small heating battles for a while now, in which Francesca and I turn on the heat via the thermostat, only to hear Massimo run down the stairs to immediately turn it off. This can go on for hours. Once Francesca turned the heat on four times in one hour. So Massimo is obsessive, but we already knew this. Anyway, his brilliant idea was to bypass the thermostat completely and go directly to the furnace, knowing that we wouldn't think to look at it. Indeed, Francesca and I spent a good 20 minutes fiddling with the thermostat trying to figure out why the house was freezing even though we had turned the heat up to 75 degrees. And then we checked the furnace, which is closed up in its little compartment, and saw that it had been turned off. We attached a post-it to the furnace switch, writing, "AREN'T YOU ASHAMED OF YOURSELF?", which Massimo duly received when he ran downstairs five minutes later to see why his radiator was warming up. I won't include the yelling part, but Francesca was very articulate.
Speaking of Francesca, I'm very sad that I'll be missing her graduation next Monday. She just finished her master's thesis and it should be quite a party. I've heard that these celebrations often include scenes in which the new graduate is stripped and pelted with anchovies and flour, while friends write (and read aloud) the best anecdotes about the person's days of drunken college debauchery. In front of his or her parents. It sounds amazing! (One thing that I've always liked about Bologna is that throughout the year people celebrate graduations, and you can always tell who the new graduate is by the laurel wreath and the drunken singing.)
I'll be home in 8 days. I can't wait to eat lots of things that I can't get good versions of here. Like pickles, mustard, turkey, cranberry juice, and non-pasta items. Kimchi! The photos above and below are good reflections of my excitement.
Regarding food, I had a very memorable restaurant experience on Monday. I went out with almost all my coworkers to celebrate two separate birthdays. You can see us singing, below.
Tiziano (whom you can see in this blog alternately peeing, wearing white face paint, and chasing horses off a highway, which does in no way indicate WHY we allowed him organize this event) chose a restaurant nicknamed The Lurido (which means something like "piggy"). The ambience was clear right off the bat, as the hostess/waitress/cook (she seemed to be doing everything) greeted us as "strange people" and reprimanded us for missing one of our party (Letizia showed up late). When I went to the bathroom, a strange man who had wandered in off the street came in and turned off the lights. He then reprimanded me for peeing with the lights on, until the waitress shooed him away. A dog ran wild through the restaurant while her owner enjoyed his pizza.
Her mood didn't improve as Letizia's absence continued. She informed us that, for being late, Letizia "wouldn't fuck anyone until at least the end of 2007". I swear, those were her exact words. The best part was that she said it to Letizia's face when she arrived a few minutes later. (Leti's response: "STILL?!?!") Overall it was a very enlightening experience.
With lots of wine. Notice Massimo's stature in comparison with the bottle size. Okay, I do have a wide angle lens, but still - the bottles were enormous.
One of the food highlights was "stinco di maiale", or pig shank. I can't decide if it sounds more ridiculous in Italian or English, but in Italian the plural is "stinchi", pronounced "stinky". Those shanks (which are technically shins?) were massive. You can see Tiziano and Massimo chewing on theirs, above. Letizia was actually the only person who managed to finish her stinco.
Here she is, eating.
And smiling triumphantly.
The above photo is a good reflection of the restaurant, as you can see the waiter commenting on us as he walks by.
Sara and Luisella. Another good reflection of the restaurant setting.
Anyway, after 4 liters of wine and a large quantity of meat, it was time to stop celebrating and go home.
