“Enjoy Yourself, In Everything You Do…”

This was the phrase of the evening as the four of us—Kayley, Lilly, Kyle, and I—sat around our plate, wine bottle, and food cluttered table with Emmanuel, the chatty and friendly owner of Drogheria della Rosa for dinner on Saturday night in Bologna. We arrived at 10:30 (so Italian of us) after taking naps that were much needed after our day in Ferrara, and four hours, two and a half bottles of wine, and some very full stomachs later, we were finally leaving the restaurant, having shut down the place. This was a night for the books, and definitely a memory from our time in Italy to keep for a lifetime. It had to have been fate, finding Drogheria della Rosa, because the other four restaurants listed in my guide book were full for the evening (when Italians eat out, they reserve a table and it is theirs for the night), and this was our last hope. In fact, not even Drogheria della Rosa was supposed to be able to seat us; when Kayley used her expert Italian to phone the restaurant and inquire about an open table for us, it took three different people before she was finally put on the line with the owner of the restaurant, Emmanuel, who told her to “come.” We arrived, were greeted at the door by Emmanuel, immediately handed wine glasses, and were being engaged in conversation before we could even blink an eye.

We were skeptical. This type of hospitality and generosity is not commonly seen in the States, and we weren’t quite sure what to think. Too good to be true, or just typical Italian behavior?

We have David H. Thorne—U.S. Ambassador to Italy—to thank for our delicious meal and fun evening that night. The four of us managed to piece together Emmanuel’s broken English after asking him to repeat himself a few times and discovered that the U.S. Ambassador to Italy had just finished eating at Drogheria della Rosa, and after having already left, sent somebody back to the resta

urant with a very official looking coin with the American eagle on one side and the U.S. and Italian flag on the other for Emmanuel as a token of gratitude. The combination of Emmanuel’s natural high from receiving this gift coupled with his slight tipsiness, we assumed, was the reason he made room for us to eat at his otherwise completely full restaurant. A table had been cleared for us while we stood in the entrance way with our full wine glasses, chatting with Emmanuel and as soon as we were seated, a waitress brought out an antipasti dish of meat, cheeses, and bread. Emmanuel came over every once in a while to make sure that we were okay and to ask us about ourselves. As we all enjoyed our appetizer, bottle of wine that had since been brought, and both natural and sparkling water (usually you get one or the other in a restaurant), we whispere

d about Emmanuel and why he was being so generous, what did we do to deserve such special treatment, and what was this meal going to cost? We soon came to realize that special treatment or not, this was a restaurant where you did not come to dine if you cared about how much you were going to spend. Just as we were wondering when, if ever, we were going to receive a menu—there is no menu, something else we came to realize about the experience in this particular restaurant—Emmanuel came back to ask us what we would like to have for dinner. A safe response to this question in an unfamiliar situation is always “what do you recommend?” Italians love their food and will want you to have what is in their opinion the best; since Emmanuel was the owner, of course we trusted his judgment. He muttered something in quick Italian to a waiter and told us he would have four different pasta dishes and two steaks prepared for us to share. This sounded “molto bueno” to us! And oh was it ever so good…one lasagna, one ravioli dish topped with artichokes, one ravioli dish topped with “pomodoro” (tomatoes), and tortellini in a creamy red sauce. They were divine, and the best was yet to come. The next course was two of the juiciest, most moist steaks, unlike any I have ever eaten. Each thick piece of meat sat in a shallow pool of a creamy, sweet steak sauce with spinach leaves and artichokes on the side. By far the best meal I have ever had, in Italy and the rest of my life (aside from my mama’s cooking), and I haven’t even described dessert. Thank goodness the first two courses came out slowly and that there was some down time before dessert, because we were already getting full and dessert was not going to be passed up. Emmanuel came to our table to chat some more, this time pulling up a chair (still holding his glass of wine that had been refilled who knows how many times) and staying until we left, aside from the occasional interruption where he would get up to say goodnight to a party of people as they left. After talking for a bit while longer, and after he saw our steak plates completely clean, Emmanuel again whispered in quick Italian to the waiter what he was to bring us for dessert. Out came two large plates of “mascarpone,” an Italian dessert that simply consists of a thick, sweet cream sauce on the bottom of a plate topped with something else simple—in our case we received one with diced strawberries and one with shaved chocolate pieces. We were in heaven, to say the least. Along with our mascarpone came a plate of little lemon cookies and a plate of pure chocolate chunks. Of course we all devoured those in a second and the rest of the evening was spent talking with Emmanuel. We talked about American politics, we talked about money, he told u

s that we needed to let our hair down, and he gave us life lessons—the main one being that we needed to “enjoy ourselves in whatever we do.” No matter what we did, we should enjoy ourselves. If we were doing something we did not like, then we should stop it and move on to something that we would enjoy. Over and over Emmanuel kept repeating that phrase, “enjoy yourself, in everything you do.” He is a sweet man, who showed us a bit of his emotional side and it was clear that he liked us because we were young and he felt he could impart some of his wisdom on us, hoping it would be influential. Well, if nothing else, I will always remember that night, the meal we ate, and the conversation we had with him. He told us we would all come back to see him one day and that we needed to remind him of our night together when we did; hopefully one day I will.

*The meal was not free, but as he did with every other table in the restaurant as we noticed throughout the evening, he came up with a price he thought suitable for what we ate and who we were. He only charged us 35 Euros each for what was easily a couple of hundred Euro meal.

While that one night alone could have made our weekend trip to Bologna and Ferrara worth it, we did manage to squeeze in a few other activities that were just as much fun, entertaining, and educational. A major reason for deciding to go to Bologna of all places was so that Kayley could do some in-person research on Bologna’s towers for her art history presentation. In order to help her out, we all climbed the Torre degli Asinelli, a 498 step tower (which is also associated with a lore that says any student who climbs the tower will never graduate….oops) and were rewarded with a beautiful view of the entire city, despite the incredible windiness and rain/snow combination that was blowing into our eyes. The other tower, Torre Garisneda, leans 1.3 meters off vertical and is therefore closed to climbing. We also had a chance to visit the cathedral, which is also gothic in style similar to Siena’s and made of white and pink marble on the front. We made a stop at the Museo Civico Archeologico as well where we observed mummy caskets, Egyptian jewelry, vases, and other artifacts of the museum’s large Egyptian, Roman, and Etruscan artifact collection. We made it to the Basilica di Santo Stefano which was really cool because it’s seven churches in one building. The “churches” are more like chapels, or even just altars in a room really, but each is distinctly different and it was fun to meander from one to another and never leave the grounds. Of course, we had to stop by and see the Palazzo dell’Archiginnasio, the seat of the city’s university for several years. Bologna’s University once had a policy where students had power over the hiring and firing of professors based on their personal feelings of who was most qualified. High regard for students seemed to be the theme of the school based on the countless number of individual student crests painted on every spare inch of wall and ceiling.

On Saturday we took a train to nearby Ferrara where we walked through the castle (complete with a moat), visited two markets, and just generally enjoyed walking around the quaint town. Thankfully Saturday was beautiful and sunny since both of our days in Bologna were snowy and rainy. Sunday we stayed in Bologna for the last bit of our travel break, hoping to take advantage of all the great shopping. However, everything being closed combined with the cold rain caused us to switch our train tickets for an earlier departure time, allowing us to return to Sansepolcro early Sunday evening—fine by us since traveling is exhausting.

Our semester here is divided into two sessions and we’re nearing the end of our first one. Soon art history will be over and the biology class will start up. Just when I was getting used to the schedule it changes on me…no matter because I’ve been looking forward to the biology class since before I left, and in art history we’re working on a really fun final project. We just finished learning about the old print making process which originated in China and which was used to print the first books. Wooden blocks were taken and a picture or letter was carved into each one. If a word needed printing, then several individual wooden blocks would be fit together to make “moveable type,” allowing full words to be printed on a page. Each wooden block had to be carved by hand, which as you can imagine, took a lot of time. The block was then covered in ink and pressed onto paper. Books could take up to several years to print, depending on the length, and were very expensive because of the time and effort that went into printing each one. Eventually the process evolved and today printing is done much more efficiently. However, the old printing process can still be used to make beautiful pieces of art—which is what we’re doing in art history! Each of us in the class took a picture that we have taken ourselves since being in Italy, and has turned it into a print that we are now using to make decoration, gifts, etc.

Step 1: Blow up desired picture on piece of regular printer paper to a size that is able to fit on a 6x6
piece of linoleum

Step 2: Outline major contour lines of picture in sharpie to make them more visible

Step 3: Trace desired scenes in picture onto piece of tracing paper with pencil

Step 4: Place piece of tracing paper with picture onto piece of linoleum, and rub the graphite onto the
piece of linoleum so it sticks

Step 5: Decide which areas of your picture will be raised (and therefore will have the ink that will
transfer onto final paper product), and begin to carve around those areas using the carving
tool

Step 6: Finish carving out non-raised areas, adding texture

Step 7: Roll ink onto linoleum so it covers the raised areas, press paper onto the print, smooth over,
and voila! A beautiful print

(the original photo)

Making our own prints has been a first-hand look at the intricate and time consuming process that was involved in original print making, and has certainly increased my appreciation for all of the old hymnals and Bibles I’ve seen in various museums and churches during our travels through Italy that were printed using individual wooden blocks. I am also incredibly glad that I have my own handcrafted piece of artwork and a memento from my semester abroad.

Stay tuned to hear about a possible excursion to Assisi this weekend, and more exciting adventures from the Regazze Americane in the Palazzo Alberti!

Ciao for now,

Hilary