I've decided I need to change my study abroad lifestyle. I know, right? How much more could my life change? (Well, for starters, I could finally marry Xabi Alonso and win the figurative man lottery. I could also win the standard lottery. I could also wake up one day and discover that the past 10 years of my life have been nothing but a dream- inception. Although by having Leo DiCaprio and Tom Hardy in my dreams for 10 years, I could accomplish more than I have in my 20 years of life. Accomplish what, you ask? Just things.)
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| Via Righi, the only street in Bologna with trees |
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| Via dell'Indipendenza a.k.a. via del Constant Clusterfuck |
My friends and I have been trying to enjoy Bologna more than we have been. I've lived here for almost six months and I'm not sure I've appreciated or experienced this wonderful city as much as I could have. We're only here for a few more months and they are sure to fly by, so why not spend less time studying (because I do a lot of this) and more time giro-ing? We're attempting, therefore, to make it our mission to giro ("wander" I guess would be the best translation) as often as possible and see, visit, take in as many new places as possible, obviously without forsaking the places that we frequent and have grown to love here.
This past weekend was particularly refreshing. Since I have a super annoying four-day weekend, I slept in and did nothing studied hard all day Thursday and on Friday, Ellen and I went to see Bologna's market, which I had until this weekend, successfully avoided for 6 months. I accidentally bumped into the market on one of my first days here in August, and I hated it immediately. It was hot, there were too many carts and, most frustratingly, too many people, all swarming to buy anything from purses, shoes, clothes, wallets and fake jewelry to lotions, perfumes, curtains, baby crap (be mature), sunglasses, plates, pots, pans and bongs. Mostly all of which cost under €30. So my personal hell.
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| woooohooooo |
In spite of all this, I'm glad I gave the market a second chance. We were luckily there on a calm afternoon and we were only creepily hit on a couple of times. After the market in the large piazza, we accidentally wandered into the other half of the market across the street in Parco della Montagnola, or as I like to call it, Italian Hot Topic. Everything involved spikes. And drugs. The park wasn't much different. Although beautiful and with a great view of via dell'Indipendenza and connecting streets, people were having suspicious conversations in secluded areas and a grown man was attempting to swing in a child's swingset. The ones with the little holes in them. Unforgivable.
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| Pretty Ellen |
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| Pretty Bologna |
After the park, Ellen and I obviously did NOT go shopping. We INSTEAD blacked out for two hours and then sat in Piazza Maggiore with gelato, people watched and watched the sun set like lovers. Verdict: There are too many strollers and therefore children in the world Bologna. Then we certainly did NOT go out to a bar with friends.*
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| Piazza Maggiore |
The next day, we decided to be adorable and cultural and decided to take an educationalish visit to Bologna's Modern Art Museum, called MAMbo, which just reminds me of mango. And the tango. On our way there we passed 800 shoe stores that we had to struggle to not go into (Many Italian stores have had massive SALES for the past 2 months. It's never-ending. Somehow we still end up spending moderate to large amounts money on things we don't need) and then ended up going into them on the way back.
Isn't how I'm writing MAMbo** super douchey? It totally is and because of this I will keep doing it.
MAMbo was weird. I'm not an art person, unless it's very clearly explained to me on a card right next to the work of art, I don't understand it. I tend to think of it too literally, as if the artist had a specific meaning attached to it that I am supposed to find out by looking at it for 3 minutes. So I make things up. The main reason Ellen and I decided to go to MAMbo was because we were under the impression that MAMbo had a dinosaur exhibit. Thanks to this highly misleading banner.
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| LIARS!!!!!!!!!! |
There are few things I love more than dinosaurs, but one of those things are dinosaur exhibits. I strongly believe that we need to learn from Earth's previous inhabitants so that we can figure out how to not make the same idiot mistakes they did and end up getting blown up by Jesus.
Turns out that the "giant tyrannosaurus rex" on that banner turned out to be nothing more than an optical illusion, a minuscule dinosaur/godzilla mutant baby. A foot tall. And no, Godzilla and dinosaurs are not the same. Godzilla is part t-rex, crocodile and lizard. And yes. He is still out there. And yes. I wikipedia'd this.
So that was disappointing. Thankfully we didn't follow through with our original plan of asking the front desk where the dinosaur exhibit was.
After MAMbo, we went to this adorable restaurant that we had recently discovered sold tapas. Since we are future adoptive Madrileñas, we had to go get tapas. And spritzes. The place was darling, it's a cross between a dollhouse and the parlors on the Titanic, like the one where Cal flipped out on Rose. Literally, he flipped a table. That darn Leo. Everyone was drinking tea here, chatting with their girlfriends or their baby strollers (chatting with baby strollers) or in some instances, husbands were dragged there by their wives. Men are probably likely to consider it the gayest li'l café ever. And there, ladies and gentlemen, we enjoyed a wonderful assortment of potato and cheese tapas. Yes. Cheese. I ate cheese. But looking back, I was probably wasted from my spritz. DID YOU HEAR THAT, MOM? I ATE CHEESE! I NOW HAVE MY CALCIUM INTAKE FOR THE REST OF THE YEAR! DEATH AT 55, HERE I COME!
To once again make Tuesdays interesting, Real Madrid plays Olympique Lyonnais in the first leg of the Champions League Round of 16. Bottom line: we hate Olympique Lyonnais, as they have a habit of knocking us out of this exact round of competition, a round we haven't gotten past in six seasons. We're going to watch the game at a pub tonight. With people in it. Win or lose, I will have no fingernails by the end of the night. Or a liver. Wish them luck please, Hala Madrid! Doesn't everyone hate French people anyway?! Easy!
*= Another one of our fake missions is also to make some new friends. Cue awkward cricket noises.
**=MAMbo MAMbo MAMbo MAMbo MAMbooooooooo
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