As promised, here's a recap of the past three weeks.

The Jens' visit:

God was I glad to get rid of that whore. What a horrible guest.

Scherzo, scherzo. I had a wonderful time with the Jens. Here's how things went:

Jen arrived (an hour late, as usual) in the afternoon on Wednesday the 12th. We were on our way out the airport when Jen got the idea that she needed to get her passport stamped. Now I didn't get my passport stamped when I arrived and I was pretty sure that she didn't need to either, but she didn't want to be in Bologna illegally so she decided she wanted to ask. Unfortunately, that meant I had to ask. When we spoke to the people at the information desk we were directed to this little window that had the blinds down. We rang the bell and waited. Then all of a sudden the blinds shot open to reveal an unhappy looking man staring at us. I asked him if they needed to get their passport stamped. He replied that he was a customs officer and did not do that sort of work. Then the blinds snapped down. We decided that they could just stay in Bologna illegally.

When we got back to my apartment, the Jens were both really tired so we decided we would blow up the blow-up mattress she brought and they would take a nap. Well, the electric pump thingy that Jen brought decided not to work, so we ended up having to blow it up with ourselves. Now, I want you all to realize how impressive this is. And I don't mean the fact that we actually succeeded in blowing up the thing, but that I willingly put my mouth on something on which I could actually see the saliva of other people dripping down. Yeah. And keep in mind that I had never even met the other Jen before. So that means that the first thing we did was swap spit. Welcome to Bologna.

So the Jens napped for about 5 hours, during which time I bought tickets for Paris, booked a hostel, took a nap, myself, and posted on this blog. By this time it was already dark and by the time Jen was ready to go to dinner, it was after 10:30. Most of the restaurants we tried were closed, but we ended up finding this really nice place with very good pasta bolognese, which Jen fell in love with and really good marscapone, which we all fell in love with. Jen got drunk off of wine (she really is a lightweight, 2 glasses and she was stumbling off to the bathroom when the meal was finished). When she pulled herself together, we returned to my apartment and went to sleep.

The next day the Jens slept until about 2, which means we didn't leave the apartment until about 4:30. This was the day of missing everything by 2 minutes. Well really we just missed going to the bank and climbing the tower. Instead we just wandered Bologna. We saw Piazza Maggiore and Jen found her favorite street, Pescherie Vecchie (which means old fish stores), which has a bunch of outside fruit and vegetable, fish, fresh pasta, bread, and meat markets. We ended up buying strawberries and artichokes there. That night we made dinner: pasta carbonara, chicken cutlets, and stuffed artichokes. I'm sad to report the pasta carbonara didn't turn out great and the artichokes were a little tough. The chicken was good though. Oh, we had wine with the meal, so of course Jen got wasted again.

The next day we got up early(ish), got gelato (the marscapone, ricotta e cacao flavor is wonderful) and climbed the tower. I was unaware that Jen's friend, Jen was afraid of heights. Oops. The view at the top though was definitely worth it (she said so herself). Sadly, on my way down I hurt my knee. I'm not exactly sure how. I think it was because the first set of steps we had to go down were really really narrow and I had to go down them sideways. I must have turned my leg a weird way (more on my knee in a minute). Anyway, afterwards we did some more wandering around Bologna. Jen was finally able to go to a bank and exchange her cash for euro. She failed to get rid of those pesky traveler's checks, though. We were told to go to this other bank to do that. Before we went there we stopped by this travel agency so I could buy my tickets to Calabria. I was told there that all the trains were full and that I should hurry and go to this other place. Now places in Italy close at very strange times. So we were afraid both the bank and the travel agency I needed to go to were going to close, so we decided to split up. I left the Jens at the bank with a piece of paper that they could give the guy at the desk asking in Italian if they changed traveler's checks (I do really wish I was there to witness that interaction). I then ran to the travel agency and got my ticket. It took a really long time, because so many of the trains were full. In the end, I got my tickets and headed back to the bank. When I turn onto the street where the bank is I see the other Jen running towards me. She looks worried and says, "Jen went to the corner to see if she could see you over five minutes ago and never came back." So I go and look for her, obviously thinking that she's either lost or dead because it's Jen (really, really bad sense of direction). I search around, no luck. I head back towards the bank and I see both Jens at the corner. Apparently, Jen thought it would be nice to get a snack. And it was (she got me a Mars Bar! My first ever!). However, that's not that point. We slapped her on the wrist for wandering off alone, and continued on our way. We went to the open market that they have every Friday and Saturday in Bologna, where I got to watch girls shop. Thrilling. It was here that I learned that girls' attraction to jewelry is completely arbitrary and invented the "Let's have me try and pick out a piece of jewelry you like" game. Turns out, I'm really really bad at that game. Oh well. After the girls urinated in a McDonald's bathroom, we went to go look for the University store, which took a while. We found it in the end and I got a University of Bologna sweatshirt! And bumper stickers (they were free!). We were starving by this point (the other Jen actually started to feel sick), so we headed back and got pizza.

Back to my knee. Now, I may be a hypochondriac, however at least it's self-contained. Jen, on the other hand, spreads hers. She looked up knee conditions on the internet and tried to convince me I dislocated my kneecap. Now, in all fairness, it DID really hurt and does hurt a little bit now whenever I walk a great deal, but honestly. Well, the next day, we were supposed to go to Venice, but the other Jen still wasn't feeling well so we switched it to Ravenna. It turned out my knee was really killing me, so we decided not to do Ravenna and the Jens would wander Bologna by themselves so long as I go to the doctor. I agreed and headed off (and P.S. the hospital for sports injuries is located on the top of a very large hill, which I had to climb with my hurt knee. If it wasn't dislocated before, it was by the time I got to the top). Anyway, after x-rays and getting prodded by different doctors, I was told my knee was fine. Whoo. That night, we went to this place that we found accidentally when looking for the University store. It offered a first dish, a second dish, water, and a dessert for only 1o euro! The other Jen ordered from the menu instead and got gnocchi with bolognese sauce which was really good. We actually went back there our last night so we could all order that.

The next day we went to Ravenna and saw really nice mosaics. My camera didn't die this time so I finally got pictures of San Vitale. The sky was unbelievably nice that afternoon, so the pictures came out really good. I'll post them soon. That night we were supposed to make homemade tortelloni with Marc and Francesca, but as usual they had no real intention of actually doing it (they often say we're going to all cook together and then back out), which was actually a good thing because we got back from Ravenna pretty late. With Jen's direction, we ended up making pasta with just butter, salt and pepper. Jen and I added peas to ours (I made the peas, which I thought were good). The dish wasn't so good however because it was disgustingly salty. We're pretty sure it must have been salted butter (it wasn't mine, so don't blame me for buying salted butter).

Spending a whole week with Jen allowed me to get into the strange workings of her mind and find out why she is always late for everything (other than because she takes forever to get ready). We were talking about going to Venice the next day and the train times. We wanted to get there as early as possible - turns out there was an 8:56 train and a 9:56 one. Jen says, "OK, let's shoot for the 8:56 one, and if we don't make it, we can always take the 9:56 one," which I of course interpreted as, "Yeah...we're probably not making the 8:56 one." I told her this was why she was always late and she responded "Well, I think it's just good sense." I agree it's good sense to know other train times in case you need them, but if you constantly keep thinking "well there's always that other train," you'll never be on time. This could perhaps be while she's always late to our gatherings - because we expect her to be and she can always think, "Well they know I'm going to be late, anyway." Perhaps we should threaten to lock doors? (P.S. Sorry for psychoanalyzing you, Jen).

The next day we did in fact go to Venice (we made the earlier train, too!), which was my favorite of our thee trips. Marc came with us. Now, the girls agree with my description of him: "He could perhaps, sort of be described of as a tool." He's toolish, but also a nice, likable guy. So anyway, here are some highlights from the trip:
-Marc wanted a picture in a gondola, so he hatched a plan in which I went to go ask the gondolier for directions, while he jumped into the gondola and the Jens took the picture. I did my part, but Marc made too much noise getting into the gondola and while the gondolier was talking to me, he turned around and saw. The other Jen got the picture (with my camera) of Marc in the gondola, while Jen got a picture of the gondolier yelling at Marc.
-We rode on a gondola! Can't wait to post the pictures. I made sure to get a piece of the gondola in almost every picture, just to reinforce the fact that we were there. Plus, I've decided every picture looks better with the front of a gondola in it.
-We spent the whole day trying to get to Piazza San Marco so we could see the Basilica of San Marco. After about seven hours, we finally got there. Instead of going right into the Basilica, we started taking pictures and then Marc started playing with the pigeons (I can hear Vincent yelling, "WHY? They're rats with wings!"). He bought birdseeds and got some to go on his hand, shoulder, and head. The two Jens tried and after much difficulty, got some to go on their hands. I, like a true germophobe, decided to be in charge of taking pictures. When that was all over, turns out the Basilica was closed. So yeah, we didn't go inside an amazingly beautiful basilica so we could play with pigeons.
-We got quite lost trying to get back to the train station. Venice is very difficult to navigate.

The next day (The Jens' last day in Italy), we went to Florence, which I didn't like that much. The Jens agreed. We think it's because we didn't have that much time to go to museums and stuff, which is really all Florence is good for. It could have also been that I was almost killed there by a moped. I liked the Duomo though.

That night, as I said, we returned to that same restaurant and got the gnocchi with bolognese sauce. We also each ordered a half a chicken and split a side dish of potatoes cooked in the oven. Very satisfying meal. Then we got our last gelato (well, their last gelato, I can still go there) and went back to my apartment, where they gave me a present! Really, really comfortable University of Bologna sweatpants (thanks again!)! Then, the packing frenzy/beginning of flight problems began. When the other Jen tried to verify her seat on the plane, it said she didn't have one. When Jen tried, it said she was laying over in Paris instead of Amsterdam. The other Jen had her sister call the agency, and was assured that the website was having problems. Jen also had her father call and got the same response. Then we went to bed (well, the other Jen and I went to bed. Jen was up until who knows what time packing and writing postcards).

The next day, we arrive at the airport at 9:15 and the first thing we see on the screen displaying departures is that the flight to Amsterdam is canceled. The Jens of course start to freak out. We go and talk to someone, and she informs us very calmly that there is a strike in Bologna. Oh, okay. No big deal. The Jens (especially the other Jen) were freaking out and were like "well what do we do!" and the woman, still with her calm voice was like "oh, I'm just going to put you on another flight." They end up getting a flight to Paris (so the website was right!) that was leaving at 10:00, so they had to run off. We had a very hurried goodbye and they were gone.

Oh, don't be surprised if Jen returns and starts cursing at you in Italian. My bad.


Visit to my grandparents:

After taking a very long nap, I packed for Calabria, made dinner, and headed out. It was too late to take the bus, so I had to lug my huge luggage (the kind with a shoulder strap - no wheels) to the train station. Worse yet, when I was almost there, the strap BROKE and i had to actually carry it. Good thing I left very early. Actually, it didn't end up mattering because the train was 20 minutes late. But anyway, the train ride was pleasant enough for it lasting from 11:00 PM to 9:40 AM. Plus, I got to be on a Harry Potter type train with compartments! Substantially less fun though, I basically slept the whole time.

So then I get there. And I have to tell you, it really is unbelievable to me how much I can love people that I've seen only three times in my entire life. It didn't even occur to me that it might be awkward without having my father there. And it of course, wasn't awkward at all. I was immediately comfortable with them and they were immediately comfortable with me.

Anyway, it is my uncle, his wife, and my one cousin that are there to greet me. In the car, we were talking about how things were going and such, when my uncle said "Enzo e' fidenzato?" which basically means, "Enzo has a girlfrend." Now in Italian, as it sometimes is in English, sentences and questions have the same structure, and the voice inflection allows you to tell the difference. Well, I missed the voice inflection and thought he was merely stating a fact (figured my father had told him). So I was like "yeah." Well, turns he had no idea. News travels fast in Mendicino, because from then on, every time I saw a new family member that day, the first thing they asked me was "So Enzo has a girlfriend, huh?"

So we get to my grandparents' apartment and of course seeing them was amazing. My grandmother was crying and gave me like a thousand kisses. My grandfather, too. We of course ate almost immediately. My grandmother made me pasta bolognese, which was different from the way I've had it in Bologna, but was still incredible. This meal was the beginning of my force feeding. "Mangia!" was the word I most often heard during these ten days. Allow me to describe how every single lunch went. First, not one, but two very big servings of pasta (one day, it was actually risotto). And I mean, big servings. And no break in between. The second I finished the last bite of the first serving, my grandmother would snatch my plate up, tell me I wanted more, and give me serving number two. Then I had to eat whatever else she made, which could range from soppressata, cheese, and bread to cooked sausages, frittata to baccala. During the meal I had a glass of wine, usually red. After the meal, I would eat an orange, which, if I didn't grab while no one was looking, would be among the biggest oranges I've ever seen in my life. Almost immediately after I finished the orange, I would be served espresso. I don't even really like coffee, but I told myself I would eat/drink anything my grandmother gave me. And plus, I found that I actually didn't dislike the coffee. Anyway, after this first meal, my grandmother forced me to get "proper rest," despite the fact that I assured her I had slept a lot on the train. Though, I actually did end up napping for almost three hours. Throughout that day, my relatives (my dad has seven siblings in Italy) came to visit. Dinner, as it was for the next ten days, was lighter than lunch, which simply means no pasta. One day it was beef and fried potatoes (my grandmother is famous for her fried potatoes), another day it was homemade pizzas, etc. After dinner there would usually be fruit (orange for me, typically) and then a little later, some sort of dessert. Then there would usually be some sort of liquor, like lemoncello or cream of lemoncello (which was really tasty).

While we're on the subject of food, I feel like I haven't quite explained just how much food I was expected to eat. Now before you think, "That's silly, why didn't he just simply say he was full and refuse to eat," let me stop you there and tell you: You don't understand. Not eating was not an option. Let me give you a couple of specific examples.
-Easter. I of course had to have two helpings of the fusilli, followed by stuffed eggplant (my grandmother is even more famous for her stuffed eggplant), stuffed artichokes, onions, broccoli rap, lamb, veal, peas. There were other things I wanted to try like the stuffed peppers, but there just wasn't room. After the meal I was forced to eat a gigantic orange. I was unbelievably full at this point, but like less than a half an hour later there was cake that I of course had to have (it was really good ricotta cake that my uncle's wife made - they own a pastry shop). Now there was no way I could eat another thing, ever. Wrong. A half an hour later, while I was playing cards, my uncle asked me if I wanted gelato. I said, no (for the first time in my life) to the gelato, that I was very full. Still, it was served to me. I was told it was only "a little bit." I ate it, and still was able to enjoy it, surprisingly. I thought I was going to explode afterwards, though. I was full for many, many hours. My grandmother was very upset that I didn't eat very much that night for dinner.
-Pasquetta (the day after Easter). We went to my aunt's house and my aunt might actually be worse than my grandmother with the force feeding. So the first dish comes with two different things on it: a big serving of pasta cooked in the oven with cheese and eggplant and two cannelloni, which are stuffed with meat. I finish this, no problem. I'm a professional eater at this point in the game. My aunt comes and asks me if I want another cannellono. I say no, I'm fine. She says, "Do want two more cannelloni?" I said no, I'm fine. She says, "No, you want them," and brings me two more cannelloni. Which I eat, still no problem. Then there was pizza rustica, which is like bread with soppressata and cheese baked into it - very delicious. Then I tried a little bit of bread with this unbelievably spicy soppressata my aunt made (I'll describe this in a bit). I'm getting kind of full. Then stuffed eggplant and broccoli rap are put on the table, immediately followed by beef, a piece of which I am served. I figure I'll eat the beef, take the littlest of the stuffed eggplants, and I'll be home free. No. While I'm eating the beef, my aunt comes in with freshly cooked slabs of pancetta. I try to tell her that I'm fine without it. She says, "what you don't like it?" I should have said no, I don't. I made the mistake of saying "I do, but -" and was interrupted with "Well then here." And onto my plate it went. So I finish my steak and then start eating the pancetta. Halfway through the pancetta, my aunt comes in with cooked sausage. I'm thinking, no way. But sure enough, she comes right over to me and on my plate it goes. I finish the pancetta and start working on the sausage. During this time, my aunt comes out with another dish of freshly cooked pancetta. Luckily, she didn't make me take anymore, saving me the embarrassment of vomiting all over myself in front of everyone. I ended up almost, but not quite finishing the sausage, simply because I feared dessert. Sure enough, I went upstairs to urinate and check my email on my cousin's computer, and when I came down there were four different cakes on the table. I got away with only trying two of them. Now here's the sick part: afterwards, all I could think about was how I could have finished the sausage.
-One day, my grandmother made gnocchi (Jacqui, if you had my grandmother's gnocchi, they might very well beat out pancakes for your favorite food) and I of course had to have two servings. The problem is, gnocchi are substantially heavier than a dish of pasta, so I was tremendously full after this. So instead of eating the soppressata and cheese, I went straight for the orange. Well, that night I was told I ate very little for lunch, and thus had to eat three sandwiches for dinner.

The Spicy Soppressata: This was honestly the spiciest thing I've ever eaten. It was like putting fire directly on my tongue. The first time I had it was on the day after Easter. You might be asking, "Why did it he have it more than once?" Well, the first time I had it, I got to control how much I put on the bread. I put very little, and although it was still really spicy, I actually liked it. The day after, my aunt, who didn't know I had tried it, asked me if I wanted to. I told her I had. She asked me if I liked it. I said yes. Mistake. She gave me a piece of bread with quite a bit of the soppressata on it (although still not that much - compared to the crazy amount she puts on hers). I thought to myself, "OK, I can do this. It won't be that bad." It was. It was the type of hot that after a five minute period of wondering whether or not someone has actually ever died of eating something too spicy and ten minutes of trying everything you can think of - without drawing attention to yourself (you don't want them to KNOW you're suffering!) - to get rid of the constant burning in your mouth (like eating tons of bread and drinking several glasses of soda/water), there still lingers a constant, but manageable sizzling on the tongue and dull burning in the back of your throat when you exhale. Luckily, this last phase doesn't last too long and the pain subsides.

Anyway, I'm afraid there isn't much more I can say of interest about my ten days there. It was an amazing time, which I spent mainly sleeping, eating, and playing cards/Rummikub. I didn't leave my grandparents' apartment much (my uncle owns an arcade-type place with billiards, foosball, and other games, but my grandmother kept telling him the weather was too bad for me to go - it was very rainy, windy, and cold). There were a couple of times though. One day I went with a couple of my cousins to see Cosenza Vecchia on the one nice-ish day we had. I saw the church, the theater, the old school, and we walked through a park. While we were walking, it struck me that between my one cousin's man-bag, my other cousin's unbelievably tight pants, and my third cousin's hair, it must have been quite obvious I was the odd one out. Oh, on Pasquetta, I went for a car ride with my two cousins (the ones with the man-bag and the pants) into the mountains because it snowed! (Snow is a pretty rare thing in Calabria.) OK, last anecdote, because I really should go to bed. On my second day there, my grandmother spoke at me for like 2 hours. Now, my grandmother only speaks in Calabrese dialect, which I of course don't know. So she was extremely difficult to understand, but with my Italian, I could usually understand generally what she was talking about. Well, during those two hours, I feel like she revealed all of life's secrets to me and I just missed them. She told me all about everyone in the family and even gave me love advice. I think it was something along the lines of don't go looking for it, wait for it to happen, but when it does, don't let it pass by. I could of course have completely imagined that. There's no way to be sure.

Anyway, so the time to leave came way too early and it was absolutely awful. During my time there I started thinking about how I have to come back and even considered taking a year off before graduate school to live with them for a couple a months. In any case, I decided there was no way I could say goodbye yet and told them that I'd be back at the end of April for a week. They were very happy about this and promised me we'd go to the beach then, even if it rains the whole time. This made saying goodbye much easier - my grandmother wasn't nearly as bad as she was the last two times I had to say goodbye to her. While I'm really, really looking forward to going back, I can't stop thinking about how that means that I'm going to actually say goodbye for at least year. I really don't know how my father left them at sixteen.

So after the goodbye, I found myself on another Harry Potter train, only this time it was during the day and I had a compartment all to myself (well, for the first half of the first train). I actually thought about how I was like Harry in the first book, sitting in a compartment all alone. Although now that I think about it, I'm not sure that's true - did he get a compartment all alone and then was joined by Ron, or the other way around? Five points to the first person who finds out.

Last thing - on the second train there was a man who didn't speak a word of Italian and was having such a hard time getting to Vienna from Napoli. He missed the train he was supposed to be on because that just happened to be the day Italy had its daylight savings. He ended up on my train and had no idea where he was supposed to get off. It turned out to be Bologna, so when we got off I was able to help him find his next train to Vienna. I know this is stupid, but it was the first time I realized just how hard it is to go to another country and know absolutely none of the language (you'd think I would have realized it when Jen came... boh).