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domenica 18 aprile 2010

Day 8

9am. I wake to the sound of my opera singing neighbor clearing her throat followed in rapid succession by the bells of every church in town ringing bells to signal the parishioners to the pews.

My apartment sits at the base of the two towers that along with lasagna and ragu symbolize the city of Bologna. So, I'm in the center of the action. At any time of the day, I hear the buzz of scooters and the laughing and talking of students.

Perhaps my fondest memories of Italy will be the happy sounds of the students outside my window. When in high school, we think of college students as mature and together. Now, as I grow older and begin questioning the eating of peaches, I see that the vibrancy of a twenty one year old is not that different than that of a child. Twice in the past week, I've walked past campus at around 9pm. Both nights, I have seen hundreds of students sitting in small circles on the pavement in the piazza next to the history building. They're drinking beer and smoking cigarettes and laughing and shouting. It all seems like such good fun, such enjoyment of life. Plus, they'll get gelato later.

Today, I was to go hiking with Marco but the weather reports forced a cancellation. The weather turned out fine. So nice in fact that I went for a nice run down and around the park to the South of the city. I had lunch at a cafe that I had ran by that was having a Barolo special: five euros for a 2003 vintage that was exceptional (or so they said). I paired it with a salad romagnaglo (salad nicoise if you're a pointy headed person from France). No sooner than my meal arrives at my comfortable outdoor table, then off goes the outdoor security alarm on the clothing store next door. Beep Beep Beep. Earsplitting.

What do the Italians do? A waiter walks out and starts rythmically clapping with the beeps. We all join in. When the beeping stops, we all applaud and laugh. Five minutes later, the beeping starts again. We all clap and laugh again. Third time. Still clapping. Still laughing. Eventually, the manager of the store shows up with a very young woman and all beeping stops. The man at the table next to me says to his wife (I'm translating here) "no wonder he is late to turn off the alarm, she's very young and beautiful."

Today, even the eight hundred year old buildings are young and beautiful.