Bologna: La grassa

As I promised in an earlier post, I will continue my overview of Bologna through its nicknames, one of which is “la grassa” or, “the fat”. This name, too, is derived from two aspects of Bolognese life. First, obviously, because the food. OhhhhMioDio The food! This name is no joke. They love to eat here, and they especially love to eat well. The other side to "la grassa" is that there is a lot of wealth here. To be honest I don't am not super well informed on the economic atmosphere of the city. What I do know is that I have found it sort of weird to be "residing" in a place where I don't actually live. I don't pay (or I guess my parents, for that matter) don't pay taxes here. And they are really high because they don't have like sales tax on a lot of things. So that's convenient for me. But weird.

 Anywayyyyys back to obesity. One of my first experiences dining-wise here was at a lovely trattoria near one of our classrooms. It was on one of the very first days here when everything was in whirlwind, but I think I will remember this clearly for a while. Primarily for our waiter/host. He was phenomenal and just the appropriate amount of ridiculous. At one point he got mad at one of the girls for not finishing her pasta and telling her that “le donne migre non esitano qui” (skinny women don’t exist in this city). He then went on to explain why this is so great because they all have gigantic chests and are ideal women. Or something like that. Again, it was one of the first days and at that point my general level of understanding wasn't extremely high. Apart from the ridiculous things this man said, this place was amazing. They didn’t have a menu, instead the waiter (who, it turns out, was actually the owner of the restaurant) told us the few options for the day in beautiful detail and we just chose one. Perhaps one would worry about being able to find something with so few options if absolutely everything didn’t sound amazing. I got ravioli with zucchini flowers. It was divine. We also got a nice sampling of meats and cheeses and every time the plate was emptied our host would yell at the other waiters and tell them that we needed more. He was a character for sure. He was a lover of food. He was a lover of wine. He was a lover of people, culture, entertaining and Italy. And I got all of that from the hour-long lunch we had at his establishment as he shared all of his loves with all of the many tables of guests.

Thus began my intensive study of the Bolognese cuisine and art of dining. Which was easy enough since everyone loves talking about food and there is extreme pride in Bologna for it’s terrific selection and its famous specialties. The premiere dish of Bologna is tagliatelle a ragu, which is not spaghetti Bolognese (a strictly American dish. You won’t find that shit here). While I look fondly back upon my father’s foray into Italian cuisine that included a delicious spaghetti Bolognese, I know now that it is not entirely authentic. The Bolognese prefer their meat sauce on a flat but much wider noodle. I have had this dish a few times and enjoyed it. It is simple enough- homemade noodles with a red sauce that consists of a lot more meat than sauce. Other specialties here include tortellini and mortadella (type of sausage). I have never really like "cold-cuts" in America and now I know for sure that I won't like them when I get back because I don't think they will be able to hold a candle to the meats here. Alas, I will survive. 

Okay so I’mma stop right there real quick and talk to you about some lasagna. It deserves its own paragraph. Heck this lasagna deserved its own monument. But let's not get pazzo. During the first week here we went for a “welcome dinner” courtesy of the BCSP. We went to a restaurant and were treated to a full three-course meal (typical Italian sytle is primi piatti (pasta), secondi piatti (meat) then dessert and caffe). For the first course we had a classic ragu and a regular meat lasagana. However, I can’t believe I just called it regular lasagna because this was a dish sent down by angels. It was perfect. The noodles were obviously fresh and, along with the pasta, very fluffy and light while also creamy and savory. Oh my gosh this was the lasagna I have dreamt of my whole life. The cheese was gooey to say the least but nothing about it felt too heavy. 

(taking a moment for the Lasagna)

Since then I have had some pretty memorable meals. My roommates are great chefs, and there was, of course, the meal we had at the vineyard after our pasta making class. What in general I have gathered \ is that, and I think I may have said this already, a great meal isn't made by the perfect spices or advanced techniques. It is quality ingredients, being at the right place, at the right time and making food that you care about. After our pasta making class, to accompany our wines we had a very simple dinner of pasta, meats, cheeses, etc. and we were served these adorable heart-shaped rolls. Not only were they precious, they reminded us that everything was served with a little bit of soul. Or something like that. 

So that’s dinner. And for dessert… I mean obviously, gelato. But you all know what that tastes like. You all know it is delicious. I haven’t actually had it that many times (aren’t you proud, mom?) but I am going to start my quest for my favorite gelateria soon so you can stay tuned for that. There will be scorecards and probably tears. Oh, and plenty of nocciolata (have I mentioned I am obsessed with hazelnuts? Nutella is just a gateway drug…) So I won't go into all of that right now. Oh right after gelato in the rankings comes Kinder Bueno bars, a candy bar found pretty much everywhere here. You think I am joking. I wish I were. 85 centessimi of joy. Kinder is like the Hershey’s of Italy and produces an array of candies/confections but none as tantalizing as the Kinder Bueno bar. It’s a wafer bar filled with hazelnut (whoops. Now we know why I love them so much) cream and covered with chocolate. You have to go for the white chocolate. Trust me on that. Mamma mia these are the bomb.

Okay so that was embarrassing. I am in the food capital of Italy and I decided to dedicate exactly 94 words to a candy bar. Whelp. You win some, you lose some I guess. How about we move on to Aperitivo. I think we can all agree that it is a worthy subject. If you don't know what that is, allow me to explain. Aperitivo is literally the manifestation of concentrated genius. Basically you can go to a bar and order a drink of your choice and then you are welcome to a miniature buffet of delicious proportions. Endless food and alcohol ( not endless alcohol. That is one thing they do have in moderation here. It's just one drink, especially if it is hard alcohol. Don't worry, dad!) for about 6-8 euros? Sign me up! Sure, the food can be hit or miss but when it’s free, it’s free! I honestly don’t think the Italians realize how amazing we Americans think this is. The purpose of this for them comes from a digestive perspective and they use the aperitivo as a way to wet their appetite in preparation for dinner. We just simply can’t control ourselves and eat much more than enough to constitute a full “dinner”. #thisAmericanlife.

I don’t know what the general rules are for blog posts, but I am pretty sure there has got to be something about a text:picture ratio. I am sorry I don’t have any pictures. Some people have a talent for photographing food. I am not one of those people and refer to maintain the dignity of what I eat and not subject it to my “artistic “ vision. So, sorry. Lots of text and no pictures. I will wrap this up. I have realized lately that one of my absolute favorite things to do is to listen to people talking about things that they love. It’s fascinating to me. In general I love hearing peoples’ stories, but what is even more remarkable to me is watching people come alive and light up when they talk about the things that they hold most dear in the world. The Bolognese are, if any generalizations can be made, passionate and, more often than not, they direct that passion towards food. I can walk into a shop and ask someone what kind of chocolate is best and then get a glimpse into his or her soul.

…ok that may be taking it a little far but you get what I mean.  Working with food here is so much more than a way to earn a living. You do it because you love it, and want to share you love with others. This could easily be all in my head, but I don’t think so. Even if it is, I love experiencing it regardless.  

Ciao a tutti! A presto! 

View from the top

This has been quite a week for the BCSP. I guess the point of this blog is for me to go through everything I did for the past few days. But really I just want to go on a rant about food because wellll I am just in the mood to. But, first things first. After our wonderful day at the Agriturismo (the wine tasting/pasta making) we had a few more surprises. Thursday was a normal day of class and nothing else too exciting. On Friday we were told to arrive at one of the portas  (large gates that were once part of the walls that enclosed the city center) and from there we would go on a little walk. This little walk soon turned into a hike and then into a climb and finally we were on the top of a hill outside of the city overlooking all of Bologna. It was gorgeous, to put it as simply as possible. I literally can’t think of a better way to spend the morning than sitting in a field with friends and food, enjoying the sun and looking at this:

I will give you a hint. My apartment has a red roof. Find it. 

 On Saturday we all awoke early for a 9:00 train to Ravenna, a smaller town near the coast known as the "Mosaics Capital of the World. That is no joke. This town is full of mosaics. We saw some beautiful, beautiful churches- all significant for how they show a merging of the artistic styles from the Eastern and Western regions of the Roman Empire. I think. Generally I do pretty well with my understanding here but there are some Italians I have met who, when they talk, their words literally just meet my brain like it’s a brick wall and I just can’t. I just can’t. Our tour guide was one of those people. Oh yeah! I almsot forgot. We also went to see Dante's tomb since is was buried in Ravenna after he was exiled from Florence. Well, their loss, our gain!

Dante's tomb. I was in the same vicinity as Dante Alighieri. Pretty sweet

  After a day of sight-seeing, shopping and a delicious (and free!) lunch we headed back to Bologna just in time for a city-wide jazz festival that featured bands playing free concerts in little outdoor nooks all over the place. I saw some positively charming shows on my own because I couldn’t find the people I was supposed to meet up with. I didn’t mind because there was a group consisting all of old men dressed in white button-ups, red suspenders and hats and if there is anything that I love more than watching adorable old men having a ball playing music it’s watching that with an overly appreciative audience (people were just loving it. They were a show all on their own).  To top it all off, there were swing dancers too. Fantastico! I eventually found some people from the program and we went for a gelato. I will go into more detail than usual here because I particularly enjoyed our conversation. We picked up a conversation that they were having before I met up with them- if each person were a gelato flavor, what would they be? Normally I enjoy this game but this was taken extremely seriously which made it all the more enjoyable. They went into immense detail over personality and flavor nuances and soon enough I was salivating. After a ten-minute deliberation I was deemed Tiramisu (and pineapple was a close second). Something to do with being well-presented, sweet and multi-faceted. I’ll take it.  S

Sorry the picture quality is terrible, but this is all that I have. I think, however, the atmosphere is captured quite well. 

Happy Independence Day, indeed. 

Whelp. This ended up being a lot longer than I planned. I wanted to just talk about food. Humph. Well I won’t overwhelm you with the longest post ever so I will just stop here and leave the food for another post. Might even still write it tonight. My blog, my rules YOU CAN’T STOP ME. 

Ciao, ciao for now!

An outpouring of thanks

To quote the lyrical genius of America’s sweetheart, today was a fairytale. Right now I am rather tired but just want to express my gratitude to the world! I am feeling extremely lucky right now and there are so many reasons why. Today our program had us be, for the first time, tourists in Bologna. While I love the fact that I was forced to assimilate into Bolognese life very quickly, I must say that I enjoyed today immensely. In the morning we took a tour around the historical center and learned a little bit more about the history of the city we call ourselves residents of. After that I had a lovely lunch with just a few of the charming people I have met on this program followed by GELATO POPSICLES. I am 99% sure I died and went to heaven where they offered me a taste of ambrosia. Yeah. It was delicious. Anyways after that we all piled into a bus and ventured out of the city center to the Italian countryside. I would like to say that drive was the most beautiful thing I have ever been on but honestly it smelled like fish on the bus and we drove for twenty minutes up a winding road that was half the size of our bus. I closed my eyes for fear of projectile vomiting. What I did see was gorgeous though! And then we arrived and jaws dropped. When we got off the bus this is what we were greeted with:

Rolling hills, green vineyards and distant villas. Okay, that was worth the drive, right? Oh but it gets better. After an extensive photo shoot we were given a tour of the winery followed by a pasta making class. That’s right. I just learned how to make pasta from an adorable Italian man at a classy winery in the Italian countryside. Sorry. Just had to lay that all out there because it’s still a little unbelievable to me. It is so fascinating to me how everything that is so good here is actually so simple. With good, fresh ingredients, patience, and a care for what you are doing, the simplest foods can be astounding. I became quite the expert on Tortellini and hopefully can show off my newfound wisdom when I return home. Maybe I will make another post later on about how we actually did the pasta. We'll see. We spent well over an hour learning about this concoction of flour and egg (actually all that we used to make the pasta) and afterwards were treated to a delicious tasting feast of pasta, bread, cheese, meat and most importantly: wine. I am continuously overwhelmed by the generosity and hospitality of the Italians and am so grateful for my experiences thus far.  I would also like to extend my gratitude towards:

1.    .    My parents- without whom none of this would be possible. Their selfless generosity has been with me for twenty years and I only hope to make them proud!
2.       .  My sister because, well, obviously. She is my beating heart hehehhe
3.     .    My friends at home and Northwestern whose adventurous spirits inspire me on a daily basis even when we are miles apart.
4.           My whole, crazy family whose love is ever so dear to me.

Grazie, tutti!

Sorry for the explosion of cheese on this post…. but again, I am le tired and everyone knows that I have trouble with emotional regulation when I lack sleep. I probably should read over this because I am not entirely sure what I wrote but I just ask you to forgive the incoherentness of this one post. Everyone gets one freebie, right? Right.Thank you. 

Ciao, ciao tesori!! 

Bologna: La Dotta, La Grassa, La Rossa- pt. 1

Today I started my first real weekend here, seeing how my first weekend took place in the middle of my panicked housing search and was thus not enjoyed to its fullest potential. A little after lunch, I took a little jaunt around my apartment to discover that all of my roommates were taking some adorable siestas just like good Italains. I decided that I would spend some quality time with myself and take to the streets for a little solo jaunt around the city and act like a tourist. Bologna is well known by the name: “la dotta, la grassa, la rossa” which translates into the “the learned, the fat, the red”. Thus, here is the first installment of an eventual three part series.

La Rossa

This part of the nickname has a two-part origin. It is called "the red" because of the red roofs that make up most of the birds-eye-view of the city. 

View from my hotel room. That roof looks red, right? It is

However, the name is also an homage to the fact that the city had links to the communist party in the past. Sooooo yeah you can take your pick on that one. I am going down the “red roofs” conceptual path and will give you a glimpse of other architecturally relevant aspects of this beautiful city via my walking tour.  

I started with the main tourist trap gathering point in the city, Piazza Maggiore. In actuality, this is a place where the Bolognese go to meet, not just a place for tourists (me) to take pictures. I really don't know why America doesn't have any piazzas because they are awesome. In Italia loitering isn't a misdemeanor but a beloved past-time. 

Oh hai Neptune

My next stop was a bookstore that my sister's friend recommended. It was like an Italian mixture of Half-price books and Book People. I walked away with a 2 Euro copy of The Little Prince (are you reading this, Aanchal??) and came this close to buying fifteen books all about how to make olive oil but refrained. I will just have to go back soon. Wandering ensued next. And by wandering, I mean walking directly to a gelateria numerous people have told me to try and pretending to be surprised when I "stumbled upon" it. Since I was already there, I got a white chocolate and hazelnut flavor. I don't know why since I normally hate white chocolate but oh mannnn it was good.

This is not the gelateria. It is a random cafe, but it is cute, no?

I continuted my journey by sitting and reading my new book what is my current favorite piazza in the city, Piazza Delle Sette Chiese (of the seven churches). You can note the two adorable girls in the top picture because they are really what I watched instead of reading. Does that sound creepy? Whatever. They were so cute. I couldn't really hear them but every once in a while one of them would yell something like "no, IO sono la principessa e tu sei il cavallo! " (I am the princess and you are the horse!). Reminded me all to much of me and my sister. Miss you, sissy! The church in the middle picture is, in fact, 7 churches in one. I didn't go in today but I am sure I will soon.

I then made my way to Via Zamboni, the main street of the University, which is another one of my favorite places because of the student population. One day I will be creepy and take lots of pictures of people because they are so interesting. Fashion is very important here in Italy but it isn't just designer labels and high fashion. People express themselves a lot with their looks and there are a lot of alternative styles. A lot of dreadlocks in weird styles like just two dreads in the back or something like that. For another day. Right now here are some less interesting photos but, hey they are still relevant. 

Due Torri- the only two towers left in the historical center, which used to be filled with them as all rich families built a tower to display their wealth back in the day. Not a very subtle form of dick-measuring, now is it?

Annunci for open rooms for rent

Just a typical colorful street that makes me happy. Ciao for now!

Come si va....?

(I wrote this a few days ago but forgot to post it SO SUE ME)

After sleeping our first night in our apartment with no sheets, blankets or pillows, my roommate and I decided that a trip to IKEA was necessary. Sounds simple enough, no? Sure, just follow these easy steps and you are good to go!

1. ·      Go to the train station and wait in line for twenty minutes only to realize that you are at the bus station.
2. ·      Walk to the actual train station, wait in line, only to be told that there is no train to IKEA but a bus.
3. ·      Walk to the described bus stop and call your program coordinator for help. Find out that the bus is blue, says IKEA and will be there in twenty minutes. So you wait twenty minutes, then thirty minutes, then almost an hour.
4. ·      Give up and get a taxi
5. ·      Wind your way through a GIGANTIC IKEA and be absolutely mesmerized by the overwhelming number of baskets and drawer knobs.
6. ·      Check out and walk towards the door to see that it is pouring rain so you call for a cab again. Then call another cab because the first one hung up on you. Then call another cab because the second one put you on hold and then hung up on you. Call a fourth cab because, honestly I don’t remember how many times we tried calling for a cab but it was a lot.
7. ·      Wait for “12” minutes that turns into thirty minutes very quickly. Call the cab company back and get the person with the strongest accent you have ever heard in your life that you think tells you it’s on its way. It’s not.
8. ·      After all this waiting the van (it was a van not a bus, dammnit!) arrives so you pay 3 Euro and take that and try to beat your roommate’s high score on Snake on the ride home.
9.        Come home to your apartment and find the elevator to be broken so you walk up 5 flights of stairs. 

 The whole point of sharing this is that this was my first "oh my goodness I am in a foreign country and don't understand what is going on" adventure and I survived it! After all that, I have a beautiful and comfortable bed and could not be happier about that. But I will never look at IKEA the same way again…..

It was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort

( Okay, so I don’t live in a hobbit-hole, but I finally finished the book yesterday so I figured it was appropriate)

Normally, unpacking is not very high on my list of preferred activities. Like, at all. My mother can attest to how many times she has to ask me to bring down my suitcases at summer because I am just such a rebellious youth and only want to do what I want to do. HOWEVER that is primarily because the true significance of the action has been previously taken for granted.  The fact that I am finally able to unpack and feel settled in Bologna is an amazing feeling. To understand exactly why, let me give you a glimpse at my first week in Bologna and explain why I haven’t posted since I have gotten here:

As many of you know, before arriving here I did not have a place to live once I got here. Yeah, just casually. The program that I am on put us up in a hotel for ten days and in that time we had to venture out into the city, find “annunci” about open rooms in apartments, call total strangers, speak to them in totally broken Italian and somehow convince them that I would be a great addition to their living situation. YEAH RIIIIIIGHT. I told myself that I probably wouldn’t be adding to this blog until I succeeded at this effort (so, yes, this story has a happy ending). 

The second day I was here I bought a phone (for only 20 euros. HELLO T-9 mode, we meet again) and started this process. It’s totally crazy how much this messed with me! The actual process really isn’t that bad. I set my expectations pretty low so I was just happy when people responded to my questions as if they actually understood them. But not knowing where I was going to live reeeeaally stressed me out. I realized that I really have never felt very stressed before. Like, ever. Apparently there are physical signs of it! For the past week I have not been able to eat or sleep very well. My stomach was constantly in knots and my mind was always racing, thinking about what I could be doing and just worrying. My program director from the very beginning that “this is not stressful. War and sickness are, this is not”.  A valid point, but still I could not deny the toll it took on my body.

But, alas, for a full week I made numerous awkward phone calls that all went about like this:

Me: “Ciao! Sono una studentessa Americana e cerco una stanza. Ho visto il tuo annuncio- la stanza e ancora libera?” (Basically, “hi I am an American student looking for a place to live. I saw your ad, is your room still free?” )

(Random Italian man or woman. Let’s go with Serena because she is one of the people that broke my little heart) Serena : “si, e ancora libera”

Me: “Si? Va bene!”

*series of questions/ comments to all of which I typically replied with “si, si*

Serena: “Per quanti mesi sei qui?” (how long are you here for)

Me: “Solo per quattro mesi, BUT….. (This was the dealbreaker. Only four months. NO ONE wants to rent a place for four months. I would say this and then begin rattling off a list of reasons why they should take a chance on me anyways because I am such a nice person and good tenant, but it was always too late)

Serena: Non e possibile, mi dispiace, ciao BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP

Me: *cries quietly to self”

Eventually I did get some appointments and saw  about 6 apartments and went through a very weird courting process until, finally, I found my home. After a week of constantly checking my phone in hopes of a “second date” with people whose apartments I had seen, and driving myself crazy, I have a place in which I can unpack all of my stuff and settle in.

I am sharing a room with my friend from the program, Raquel, in a lovely little apartment consisting of two Italian students (Andrea and Francesco)  a girl from China and a to-be-determined sixth roommate.

Raquel in our new room!!

It needs some work, but this is my bed for the next four months

I promise I will get better at taking pictures...

 Last night, Andrea, cooked me and Raquel our first homemade Italian dinner of zucchini risotto. We sat around the table for a long time talking, eating and drinking wine with Andrea and the Giacomo (Francesco's brother) and eventually some of their friends came over and we explored Bologna a little. It was a perfect first night in the apartment. And this, it feels very good to say, is my table:

YUM!