Cold Days, Hot Drinks, and How I Accidentally Broke into an Old Lady's House

Happy International Women's Day! 

Yeah, I didn't know it existed either. But as soon as I set foot outside my room this morning, Adele had a little present for me--a lovely little yellow flower, in a grappa glass. :3 I had no idea why she was saying Auguri! (congratulations) until she explained it to me. She had mentioned it a week or so ago, but I had all but forgotten.

She has been wonderful to me lately. Yesterday, she brought me hot tea to keep me warm while I was studying. But it was three days ago that she really spoilt me. I had finished reading some of Hemingway’s memoir and had just sat down to write this, when suddenly she bustled urgently into the room and set a tray down in front of me.

“Drink this,” she commanded.

When an Italian mother gives you an order (especially if it involves the words “eat” or “drink”), you darn well do as you’re told. 

What she handed me was this:

A piping-hot glass of spiced rum with a lemon peel curled at the bottom of the glass. I took a cautious sniff, which alone was enough to make my eyes tear up.

“It’s strong,” she said. “Look at me!” she said to her husband, standing in the doorway, “I’m going to send her back to America as an alcoholic! Hee hee hee!”

She winked at me. “This is why it took me so long to drive home from work today—but it’s good for a cold day, you know. You’re going to sleep well tonight!” 

She left the tray for me on the table, heaped with about ten thousand cantucci (almond biscotti), and promptly bustled out of the room to some unknown region of the house.

<3 <3 <3 

Hot Rum + Snowy Evening + Writing = Bliss. I felt very cool and writerly.

The eating continues to be fantastic.

Lemony, buttery tagliatelle noodles. Oh baby.

This one, called a Piemonte, was prettier than it tasted, but not by much. It was vanilla-flavoured.

Café Impero, where I bought it, has an awesome mosaic on the inside.

Shop window full of marvelous cakes.

(Ha ha ha!). No, I didn't try this one. But it would go nicely with the cannabis incense I saw in the open-air market...

Another shop window. These were sculptures made out of pasta. Makes you ashamed that you ever made those macaroni paintings in kindergarten.

So, about the Accidental Forced Entry.

On Sunday I went to a church on the other side of Bologna, quite a distance outside the central wall, so I wasn't entirely sure where I was going, though I had the address. After a half hour bus ride, I walked through a light rain looking for the place, and out of the corner of my eye I saw the sign for Chiesa Nuova Vita through an open gate, with cars lined up in the parking lot.

But once I was through the gate, I discovered I couldn't find the door--at least not one that didn't look like a locked maintenance door. I was very early, so I walked around the whole building looking for the main entrance, and finally stumbled upon a big wooden double door that was ajar, invitingly revealing a set of inner doors.

Perfect! I boldly tried the door, which was unlocked, and went in.

There was a little foyer, where I waited for a few seconds to dry off from the rain. I heard someone coming out to meet me, but instead of an usher or a church member, a little old lady came out from the kitchen (uh oh--kitchen?) and regarded me with a solemn and puzzled expression. There was a moment of deep silence.

Then she asked, «...Chi è?» (...Who are you?)

Oh dear. "This isn't the Nuova Vita Church?"

Before she could answer, "Of course not, you fool," her tiny white terrier burst out from behind her and stood up on his hind legs to snarl at me, and she threw herself between us and started shouting at the dog in Italian, darting this way and that to block his angry advances with phrases like "I'll protect you!" and "Watch out for him!"

What can you really do in that sort of situation? I'm just glad my Italian is now advanced to the point that I can profusely apologise. She sent me in the right direction and waited to make sure I got in okay. In my defense, her house was directly connected to the church building.

All I can say is, she reacted a lot better than I would have. I get upset when my brothers' close friends walk into the house without knocking, let alone a stranger. The graciousness of the Italians never ceases to impress me.