As linguists we are told right from the start to avoid fellow English speakers like the plague; in practice this is impossible. Every so often you need someone who understands the importance of an orderly queue, a good cup of tea, and the occasional dose of sarcasm, and having English friends has been invaluable for situations when cobbling together a sentence in comprehensible Italian required a group effort. But as Bologna is such a small and friendly city, I ended up easily meeting far more Italians than internationals anyway, much to my surprise. My week began with a visit to Ravenna with one of them, Martina, who lives there and goes back home each weekend. I was introduced to her mum and boyfriend, and got to see some of the mosaics I'd missed the first time around, including those in the amazing Basilica of San Vitale, where Martina's cousin got married a few weeks ago - it must have been the most gorgeous wedding! She also took me me the beach at nearby Cervia. Like Rimini, this was practically deserted, but still beautiful, and we visited the huge port with rows and rows of yachts, big and small, before going to a Brazilian themed bar for apperitivo.
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Sassy cherubs |
The international theme continued throughout the week, as a group of us were beginning to grow weary of Italian cuisine. I feel almost blasphemous for saying it, but even the delicious diet of pizza and pasta can start to feel ever so slightly restrictive when eaten day in day out. So on Monday we organised an international dinner. The menu featured two types of pasta made by the two Italians (so so good), followed by shepherd's pie in an attempt to show them that British cuisine ain't all bad. The familiar comfort of a homey, English dish was very much appreciated - I'm still receiving the weekly menu emails from college, and though I never thought I'd get homesick for their mushroom-heavy dishes, there's a slight pang of nostalgia every time the word 'pie' or 'pudding' crops up, two concepts of which Italians seem completely unaware.
Where in any other European city you'd easily find food from any corner of the globe you fancied, in Italy you're spoiled for choice with pizzerias and osterias serving dishes 'just like nonna used to make', but anything that's even a touch more exotic is conspicuously absent. Opinionated at the best of times, food is one issue on which Italians will not budge - it's a matter of pride. They are the best, end of, and seeking out foreign cuisine is like searching for a needle in a pasta-stack. But search we did, and this week we discovered, tucked away down side streets, a Japanese/Chinese all-you-can-eat restaurant, a great Indian place complete with elaborate decor, and a Bavarian brewery-style pub, where we went for my last meal.
I got my fix of Italian fare on Thursday, when I went back to my lovely host family's house for dinner, which was tortellini in brodo (broth), a traditional Bolognese recipe. It had been freshly made by a local restaurateur; apparently he hadn't had any ready for sale, but after my host mum told him she had an English girl coming to dinner who 'needed to learn about proper food', he had agreed completely that this was a critical situation, and whipped some up just for me. I'm still unsure whether to be offended or flattered, but it was good pasta so I'm prepared to let it go. Apparently the tiny tortellini are known as the 'belly buttons of Venus' (mmm, appetising. To be fair it sounds a lot less gross in Italian) because they're so tasty. Literally the food of the gods.
So after a brilliant and delicious last week, it was onwards to Rome. So far I've only seen the two roads from the station to the B&B where I'm staying until I find a flat(/resign myself to life on the Roman streets/assume a new life impersonating Italy's best-loved pop star) but first impressions: everything is big. Everything. The whole centre of Bologna was walkable on foot, and thanks to my host family going out of their way to help me, everyone else I met there, and obviously the amazing food, I managed to settle in completely, and do everything I wanted to before I left. It was the perfect setting for the start of my year, and I'm now slightly overwhelmed by the idea of living in a new, massive city, but excited to get cracking with the next bit of my year abroad, Roman style.
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