Pasqua de Italia

I woke up to something I had not seen in days--blue sky and sunshine!  The forecast was still for cold temps, but the clear sky was a welcome change.
If only, I grumped, it had been like this yesterday, and I would have taken rain today--because it's Easter, and almost everything in Italy except the pope is closed for the holiday.  Really there was no point to my even trying to go anywhere. Nevertheless, the day was too fine to waste.  I could go for a walk at least.
I strolled outside.  Not bad.  Suddenly I formed a plan.  Gelato.  There had to be at least one place open in the tourist zone, and it's probably illegal to leave Italy without having had gelato once.
I found a new way into town, but it's just as long and boring as the old way, so never mind.  I have not mentioned it, but everyday I have been here, starting with the bus from the airport, people have been asking me directions.  Sometimes the question is so simple I can answer; other times not so much.  So the streets were pretty empty in those parts and the traveling Italian couple didn't have much choice, but I could after all direct them to the town center and name the streets and indicate turn directions with my hands.  I figured if I could get them started out, then they could ask further on.
A few minutes later, I took off my jacket and stuffed it in my bag.  Gelato weather indeed!  I had a nice stroll.  As I had hoped the town center was buzzing although most things were closed.  The main streets had been closed to traffic and a festive atmosphere prevailed.  I found gelato, too, and had two of my favorites amarena and nocchiola.  And yes, they tasted very good indeed.
I strolled through a park and walked around the streets feeling good about the day despite no real tourist action.  This is my issue.  I have three days left to sight see, leaving on the fourth and most museums and sights are closed on Monday.  I had to set some priorities and decide what I could bear to drop.  It always happens that I can't see Everything.  At any rate I hope this means a change in the weather.  I could do with some real primavera italiana!
Ciao

A Damp Day Out

I awoke to the sound of rain pattering against my windows, and I returned home with my trousers, socks, and shoes soaked, which is why this post is late.  I still have no wi fi in the room and after I'd stripped off my soggy clothes all I could face was a cup of green tea and my kindle.
When one travels to Europe--or anywhere I guess--one just deals with the weather, and my time here is so short and the list of things so long, I set forth for Modena.
Modena is a short and easy train ride from Bologna.  The train plowed through a landscape I'd call wintery, except that no frost adorned the ground.  The trees looked skeletal, and the vine stocks barren.  I saw short, twisted trees I thought were olives, but they also were leafless, so I could not be sure.
Modena, once home to the Este Family, is a handsome dignified city even in the pouring rain. What my guidebook and the internet did not tell me, is that it shuts down tight on Saturday afternoon. Or perhaps just the Saturday before Easter?  I wandered around taking in Baroque and Renaissance palaces.  These aren't open to the public anyway.  The Renaissance palace now serves as Italy's military academy.  I really wanted to see the Romanesque Duomo, which is reputedly one of the finest examples in Italy, but the exterior was covered in scaffolding and the church was locked up. Few people were on the streets besides us bewildered tourists.
But what of the famed Aceto Balsamico de Modena?  It's vinegar or soured wine redistilled and aged some twenty years, and the purported balsamic one pulls off the supermarket shelves is not the real deal.  One does not pour this stuff on salad.  Apparently the proper way to eat it is to put a drop on some shards of parmesan.  But the stores were closed!  Could I obtain this elixir elsewhere?  Then I passed an open "bar" that had bottles of balsamic displayed in the window.  I went in and chose a tiny bottle I knew I could pack.  The proprietor was a friendly, very outgoing woman, who must have been delighted to have some custom that afternoon.  She spoke English, praised my purchase to the skies and expressed tremendous admiration for California, especially San Francisco.  New York City, she said was too full of weirdos.  I didn't know what to say to that.
I am drinking and enjoying Lambrusco these days.  It's red and fizzy--not sparkling though.  It's also very cheap here being the local wine, and if you find a bot that says DOC you won't go wrong--even in the United States I would guess.  At any rate it goes well with pasta.  I had pumpkin ravioli, which I learned to like in Lombardy, and it's a popular filling in Emilia as well.  I also tried the true "baloney" or mortadella.  I got it sliced thin.  This is not the industrial sandwich filling of my girlhood.  It has a rich and subtle taste and also goes well with Lambrusco.
Ciao

A Day of Art

It's still cold, and it's the End of March for heaven's sake. Easter is in just a few days!
I forgot some things I saw yesterday, and as I gave myself a comparatively easy day today, I'll add those in.
I mentioned that Bologna has the oldest university in Europe, and yesterday afternoon, I wandered in to the part open to the public. There isn't much--mostly an elaborate arcaded courtyard and a fancy first floor hallway.
I was back that way today, but I had to take a fairly long detour to the train station where I had to spend a whole euro on the toilet. One thing you can say about the USA--it's the land of the free . . . Then I strolled up Via della Independenzia licking windows until I got to the Museum of Medieval Life. It has a lovely collection--but we must define the word Medieval with extreme looseness to cover everything from Late Antiquity to the Eighteenth Century. I always enjoy the intricately carved and bejeweled reliquaries and stone carvings, but the highlight for me were some gorgeous illuminated and gilded manuscripts with old musical notation. Long ago I learned to read some of it when I sang as part of an historical musical group. I didn't remember a thing in case you want to know.
I made my way to the Museum of City Art, and when the city is Bologna the artistic pickings are mighty fine. I ought also to mention that these museums are located in palazzos, so the buildings themselves are fun to prowl around. I was going for the period rooms. This particular palazzo was a favorite stop of the Popes from the Farnese Family who lived (when not in Rome) up the road in Parma. Napoleon also stopped here. The rooms all had beautifully frescoed ceilings and abundant objects d'arte, and furniture. My favorite was a smallish room frescoed to look like a bower all over vines and leafy trees. "Views" out one side showed a lake and mountains, and out the other side one saw a peaceful countryside with plowed fields.
Delightful! And a perfect place to have tea on a cold afternoon were it my place. Only one thing marred the charm--an infestation of putti! If it really were my place I'd have the exterminators in directly.
On my way home I stopped into the food market to marvel at the vegetables and various other goodies on offer. I did not buy. I did not want to lug things all the way home, and the supermarket I mentioned is pretty incredible, too. I spent a lot of time just wandering around. There are two whole aisles dedicated to pasta! Maybe not every shape every conceived, but I'd say most of them. You can get the fancy artesianal kind or the house brand. I got some local wine--a semi sweet lambrusco to go with my tortellone--that's big, fat tortellini--and I have some with ricotta and spinach.
Because of the way the kitchen is equipped--or not--pasta is going to be my dinner. Over the way in Tuscany or up in the Veneto they wouldn't go for that, but in Emilia-Romanga pasta is the deal!
ciao!

Chilled Bologna

I am sitting down in the lobby typing this because I can't get the wireless connection in my room.  It worked last night, but this morning.  Nada.  Now?  Still nada.
I had a good first day out.  I thought the cold would bother me more, but my leather jacket does fine. The cold eventually did begin to get to me--the high was something like 45F, so don't scoff, and knowing what a long walk I faced back, I came home.
I am way out so it takes about half an hour to get to the historic center.  Many of the streets are lined with covered arcades and colonnades which are very welcome on a damp, drizzly day.  I strolled along, stopping to lick the occasional window.  I passed by the old city walls and through one of the old gates. At length I arrived at the heart of the city.
There are two conjoined pizzas.  The smaller is called Nettuno because there's a rather risque fountain of Neptune created by Giovanni da Bologna featuring sea nymphs and a naughty dolphin or two. Grand buildings sit around it and the Piazza Maggiore.  Both were filled with tourists and tour groups.
I crossed over to the Duomo St. Petronio.  It's facade is under restoration, so the place doesn't look like much from the outside but inside, it's magnificent.  It's Italian Gothic with some Renaissance and Baroque frosting--any period of Late Medieval or Early Modern Art you are interested in you will find.  There's also a very interested polychrome Lamentation--apparently a Very Popular subject in Bologna, because another church I visited Sta. Maria della Vita featured another even more startling and expressive version.  I can't tell you the artist's name because I left my guidebook upstairs, but he made it look like the Virgin Mary and Mary Magdalene had just come tearing in from somewhere and were totally freaking out.  Really it was quite amazing. I visited a lot of churches. The last one was a Baroque gem called San Pietro.
I also strolled down to see the Due Torre.  Intrepid travelers can go up in one of them.  I am not so intrepid any more.
Most of my time was spent in the large and elaborate Museo Civico de Archeologico.  The amazing collection goes from prehistory to the Romans. The museum is reputed to have one of the best Etruscan collections in the country, but I was more impressed by the Greek pottery.  There are wonderful examples of both Black and Red Figure vases.  The exhibits of Roman artifacts delighted me.  They had a lot of everyday objects and decorative things that normal people would use and have in their homes.
It's too cold for me to be interested in gelato.  If that changes I'll let you know.  But I had some prosciutto de Parma.  Um boy.  It's very mild and creamy tasting.  I have some tortellini with walnuts and gorgonzola waiting for me upstairs, and as I am hungry, I am going to go eat it now.
Ciao!

The Attack of the Jet Lag

So let's work backwards, shall we? Obviously I'm here with my ears plugged and brain buzzing unpleasantly. It took me about half an hour to figure out how to log into to the wireless network. As I am not THAT technologically inept we can blame jet lag--it's very convenient.
I have dined on a local specialty--some fat tortellini with ricotta and spinach which I dressed with some salt and extra virgin olive oil. Some Emilian joker hundreds of years ago decided to recreate Venus's navel in pasta--and pretty dang tasty they are. Right now I'm sipping a slightly rough sangiovese, which I think comes from the Romagna part of Emilia-Romangna, but you know what? At this point I don't care. It's tasty.
I live next door to a giant shopping mall with a bancomat--or atm for you foreigners and a supermarket that is likely to fulfill all my dreams--as well as Your Food Fantasies. As exhausted as I was I had to wander around marveling. My takings were fairly modest--for now. Since I am an ignorant foreigner and cannot use the auto check out, I ended up in line behind an elderly couple who appeared to be buying three months worth of supplies.
Before that on my way to my apartment and mistaking the number I barged in on an innocent couple enjoying their evening. They were extraordinarily gracious about it, too.   Folks must subscribe to the travelers' code. I mumbled something shamefaced about jet leg and retreated.
And you know what? That pretty much sums up my trip so far--me blundering around and helped by kindly strangers.
There's a bus from the airport to take folks to the train station in Bologna. It's a very handsome city by the way once I get out to explore. I'd written down the directions to my new home, but I had no idea where I was and just sort of stumbled in the right direction. I have arrived in the midst of a cold snap with temperatures in the 40s. The only smart thing I did so far was check the weather on the internet, so I had my Florentine leather jacket, and dressed in black as I was, I fit right in. I am way out, but I figure the exercise did me good after those plane rides.
On the LAX-Frankfurt leg, I was seated in the kid zone, and my heart sank. Fortunately my little three year old neighbor was an excellent traveler and the babies in the rows in front and behind didn't fuss that much.
Oh and if you happen to be a sap and lose your boarding pass going through security--don't worry. The nice airline folks will print you a new one. Don't ask how I know this.
And yeah, I started out the day in the dentist chair. A quick fix for a broken crown.
It can only get better from now on.

That's a load of--Wait where are you going?

Bologna
It figures and leave it to you, Pil, to fetch up in a place named after food.
Except that you have that backwards.  The food is named after the place.
And it's FOOD after all.
There's a lot more to Bologna than food--although I have to admit . . . Ahem.  Bologna, la dotta, la grassa e la rossa.  Bologna is the learned--the site of of the oldest university in Europe.
Mumble.  Ok, Pil, I guess it's a good place for you.
And so I concede that it is also Bologna the Fat--the place that even other Italians like to come to eat.
Nyah.  I knew it!
And--er--Bologna the Red.
As in (gasp) Communist?
Kinda.  Mostly but Mussolini's granddaughter was also active in politics here.
Sheesh,  Yeah, I remember her--her first name should appeal to Some People.
Sorry.  Don't care for Gramps' politics or those Commies either.
So what is up with Bologna that you should wish to go there?
Bologna is in Central Italy--not all that far from Florence--but nevertheless off the main tourist trail.  It's in the province of Emilia Romanga.
Never heard of it.
Perhaps you HAVE heard of Parmesan cheese.  Or prosciutto de Parma.  Or Aceto Balsamico de Modena.
Oh.
Spaghetti Bolognese.
Ok.  Don't rub it in.  (I knew she was going for the food.)
The region is defined by the old Roman Road Via Aemilia slashing a dead straight line from the coast north.  I don't expect to find Roman cobbles, the site being occupied currently by the Autostrade. There's plenty of history and art to go around, not to mention the lovely Italian countryside.  Why not come along?