Bologna

This is the most "normal" summer vacation I have taken in a long time.  Not that I am some kind of intrepid traveler, but I guess a lot of people think that running around Asia or going off on my own for a couple of weeks is "exotic."

But here I am, with my boyfriend, on a 3-week tour of major cities in Italy and France. 

I've been to Italy twice, and Paris once already, and I can't even say I loved either so much that I had to come back.  So the impetus?  The euro was back down to approximately $1.10, and I just got it in my head that Justin, who knows everything there is to know about architecture, art, and music, that it was awful that he hadn't seen Italy and France.  

Also, more importantly, he loves Italian food and I NEVER ALLOW US TO GO OUT FOR ITALIAN FOOD, so I thought, ok, if we're going to eat Italian food we're going to do it right.  For me, this trip was going to be about eating.  I guess that's not too different from usual, either, but I decided that I was going to really treat myself to going out, every day, and eating something authentic and wonderful.

We have a very easy 7 hour flight from NYC to Milan, and I feel oddly refreshed and rested when arriving.  I usually have crazy jet-lag going to Europe, but I guess since most of the places I go these days are over 11 or 12 hours, that this seemed like a piece of cake.  I decided to skip Milan, and go straight from the airport to Bologna, a city known for historically left-wing and radical politics.

We're staying exclusively at places on AirBnb.  The great thing about airbnb is that you can stay somewhere a bit cheaper than a hotel, and have great amenities like advice from locals, access to full kitchens and baths.  The bad thing is that since we don't have cell phone service here, we have to rely on public wifi or public telephones to contact people and arrange for meeting times.

The first place in Bologna was going to be the most difficult, because even though the lady kept great contact and kept asking when we thought we'd arrive, we really had no idea.  There was no guarantee that the plane would arrive on time, or our luggage, or when the train schedule from Milan to Bologna would be.  I approximated about 4:30 pm, and told her that we could try our best to message her from Milan when we arrived.

In my experience, I have found that most industrialized countries have more public free wifi than in the USA.  Wifi in parks, wifi in restaurants and cafes.  

Well, none in Milan airport.  And it didn't occur to me to use a... PAYPHONE... To call her and let her know our progress.

The Train to Bologna was swift and comfortable, and we did a decent job of finding the apartment from the shitty map I brought.  One problem: it was hot as balls.  The wheel on my luggage had already stopped functioning properly about three blocks from my apartment at home, and poor justin is schlepping it and trying to figure out where we are.  We're drowning in sweat.  

We get to the apartment building, pretty much at the exact time I had estimated to the lady, and none of the names on the building have the woman's name on it.  I go into the dentists office in the building, and in my beyond shitty Italian, try to ask if she knows the woman.  She has no idea.

So, we find a tiny bar/cafe around the corner, order an iced coffee, and go to access the Internet.  The old dude gives me a slip of paper with the access code, and it doesn't work at all.  I show him the screen on my phone, which says that an additional login is necessary, and he shrugs and says he doesn't know why... The access is free.  

I now get the bright idea to call the woman.  So I tell Justin to stay put so that I can walk around and try to find a public phone. 

10 minute walk, only one public phone, and it doesn't work.  Just like New York.

I pop into the Coop supermarket, which boasts free wifi.  It doesn't work either.  Stating to get the feeling that promised wifi is bullshit in Italy.  

My perkiness is fading.  I am covered in sweat.  And Ive temporarily lost my bearings, so even though I made one turn in my travel away from justin, I panic because I can't even remember the name of the street where I left him.

I find another cafe, and there's more free wifi,  trying not to be an asshole, i order a bottled water and receive it before I ask for the code.  The girl says "20 times, the number 1."  Stupid fucking password.  I painstakingly type the number 1 twenty times, and it doesn't work.  I do it a total of three times.  Still not working.  Was it a riddle?  Was I just supposed to type "20?"  I don't know, but I'm pissed.  I ask the man for the password, which, by the was, is the same word in English as in Italian, and the fucker starts yelling at me loudly, in Italian, that he only speaks bolognese and that I have to talk to the girl, and starts yelling at the girl that I need some help and he won't help me.

I look up the price of the water, leave it on the counter, and leave.  No one says anything to me.  

I go back to justin, exhausted and defeated.  At this point, I've been gone about 40 minutes, and decided I don't give a fuck and ask the man at the first cafe to call the woman, which I should have just had the balls to do in the first place.  He did not look happy about it, but really, fuck him and fuck Bologna, but I left him a very hefty €1 tip for his troubles anyway.

After that, it was all smooth sailing,  The apartment was lovely, Bologna was very cool.  Walkable, not too touristy at all, but no one else seemed too bothered to have us around.  There was a "movie under the stars" night going on the first night that we arrived.  Instead of being in a park or at a pier like they are in New York, it was in the huge Bologna church piazza, where we sat outside and had a beer while watching Dallas buyers club.  Kind of a weird movie to watch under the stars. It was subtitled in Italian, so after about 20 minutes, I learned that the word "cazzo" means "fuck," "asshole," "cocksucker," "dick."  So I felt well-prepared for the rest of the trip.

I found Trattoria di Via Serra, near to the apartment but a bit far from the historical center of town that was recommended to have our first nice Italian meal.  

I've had to mentally prepare myself for all the cheese and carbs I was going to eat on this trip.  These are things that I try to avoid at home.  I realize that is makes me a stereotype, but cheese gives me gas and unchecked, I could eat a whole loaf of good bread or a whole box of pasta, so I generally avoid it at all cost.

Besides, I read that in Italy the pasta (always served as a "primi," the first course) is a small portion that you eat before the main meal.

This trattoria billed itself as traditional bolognese, so I order the pasta bolognese and a course of rabbit wrapped in pancetta.  Justin gets a pasta in tomato and basil, and steak.  They offer a house wine that is locally sourced in 1/4 liter, 1/2 liter, and full liter sizes.  The waiter speaks English and he is so nice, and explains that we should only get 1/4 liter... It's about 2 glasses of wine per person.

This meal was lovely. I wasn't so into the bolognese pasta, but the rabbit was amazing and I've never seen meat cooked so perfectly.   And it was the beginning of my understanding of Italian food in Italy:

-It is a complete lie that the portion of pasta is small.

-It is completely acceptable to order a first course or a second course, and only that.

-If one person orders two courses, and another orders only one, the restaurant will ask and offer to bring you a plate to share.

-"Al dente" pasta is more firm than I thought, and I'm really happy about this.

-Good food in Italy is really not too expensive.  We've paid less than €10 for most pasta dishes, even ones with meat ragu, and less than €15 for excellent meat plates.  

-Nice restaurants will sometimes give you a little something extra.  One place gave us an after-dinner aperitif for free, and another refilled the aperitivo for us without asking.

-They do not expect a tip; there is nowhere to even write one in on your credit card receipt even if you wanted to.

-You are not to ask for tap water.  They ask you if you want sparkling or still water, and they bring it to you.  Most of the time, you're going to pay for it. 

-Wine is dirt-cheap.  That quarter liter of wine was €7.  4 large glasses of delicious wine for less than one small shitty glass of wine in Manhattan.

I don't go out for dinner very often at home, but i do have a nasty $13 cocktail habit.    So in reality, going out to dinner here, and having a nice meal prepared for you, winds up being cheaper than actually just being home.