HOW DO YOU SAY

Mussolini's Republic fell 68 years ago today.  What this means for me: Italy's probably less messed up than it could've been (?); work's out, school's out, allowing for sibling war in the morning in addition to afternoon and evening; more hotshot bikers and ladies with designer fanny packs (gold, with matching shoes) than usual on my morning run; decadent lunch at Nonna's, which, somewhere between rich pasta, red wine, and salame dolce al cioccolato (omg yum), made me serenely happy and brimming with love for the whole world, including my little family of weirdos as they shouted about the mafia and the TV remote and whatever else. Passed a monk on the street this afternoon, his white robes flowing and prayer beads in hand.  My initial reaction: "'sup."  And then, a bit later: wait, were you a monk?  What were you?  Too young to be a bishop.  Probably not the pope, by the same logic.  Oh, priests are a thing, right?  Just gonna call you a monk be...

I saw Bellini's "La Norma" last night, in a gorgeous old theater in downtown Bologna.  Nonna was glammed up like a movie star--sunglasses and big jewelry and elegant shawl--as were most of the other opera-goers.  We had a box all to ourselves, with a great view of the orchestra pit and close to the stage.  This opera is reputed to be one of the most difficult to perform, and as I spent a significant amount of time concerned that someone's vocal chords were going to snap, I'd say that sounds correct.  Favorite part was either the Roman soldiers battling in slow-motion behind a dream-like translucent screen, or the end with all its clashing and the gold curtain fluttering down, death-by-fire, which did, yes, bring tears to my eyes.  Or the moon-worship.  There were also, via the Romanesque costumes, several almost-but-not-quite wardrobe malfunctions involving breasts and long robes that get caught on things.  Nonna and I carried on light but cordial conv...

This afternoon Beppe asked if I wanted to go see some "Buddha relics" that were on display downtown.  I said sure, not knowing what that entailed but sticking to my "yes" policy.  We go by bike, he said.  Be careful, because I don't have insurance for you, and it's dangerous.  Yup, I said, attempting to suppress the death-visions that popped into my head at the thought of riding one of his vintage bikes over Roman-era cobblestones alongside Italian drivers. I got the bright red bike from Amsterdam which I'd date around 1975--a single-speed with questionable brakes, complete with red basket and a bell that rings like a church.  It rattled and groaned as we careened through throngs of people.  I was holding on to the handlebars for dear life.  Think my bones are still faintly vibrating, actually.  I was already lightheaded from a long run this morning, so I still don't understand how I didn't hit anyone, or how that bus didn't hit me, but we...

Apologies for my absence this past week...it's been a strange one. Went to the Museo della Storia di Bologna, which was rather fascinating and even at one point required 3D glasses.  Then got chocolate and hazelnut gelato and hung out in the piazza with my gals and my guy (Ginni, her friend, Franci, moi). Sun was playing hide and seek today, so I captured the blossoming fields but not the sunny hills, which reappeared as soon as my camera was safely tucked into my bag.  Was in a weird mood and no one was around, so sat on a bench and wrote things and took a selfie. Ginni just discovered that Google translate will talk if you ask it to, and this has provided hours of entertainment for her, me, and really anyone in the vicinity of her giggling.

Nonna knocked on my door this morning while I was drying my hair and asked if I'd like to see an opera with her later in April, so I hopped on that bus and went to buy my ticket.  Only 20 euro?  I'm not sure if I'm missing something there or if I'm just incredibly lucky to get an opera seat that cheap.  Hehe I'm going to see an opera in Italy!  Okay yes, I am lucky. On Sunday the sun poked its head out for the first time in a million years and created a morning so spectacular that I thought about Jesus for a minute.  Easter was a quiet affair in this family; a chocolate bunny or four circulated the house, the boys went off to the countryside to visit Beppe's mother, and the gals had lunch at Nonna's apartment.  Pasta alla bolognese, all manner of delicately fried delicacies, and a traditional Neapolitan cake called pasticcera (Nonna and Vale are from the south--this is why they shout a lot).  Afterward I wanted to curl up in the fetal position, fall ...