My Bologna Love Letter

When I first laid eyes on you, every bone within my body would have attested that it was love at first sight. I was entranced by how beautiful you looked and how your sounds filled my ears with an unrecognizable, yet irresistible sound.

And then the newness and sparkle of it all wore away, and I realized I was simply a foreigner planted in an Italian college town, with absolutely no idea where I would be living for the next 6 months of my life and what seemed to be a just below mediocre grasp on the local language. Strolling beneath the beautiful and ancient porticoes unique to the confines of your walls I found myself exhilarated and terrified at the same time. I would walk casually by bars and restaurants at least 4 or 5 times before finally mustering the courage to simply open the door – a task that was at the same time a daunting and assured give away that I didn’t belong there.

I battled through the first two weeks of extreme Italian immersion, confusion, anxiety about being homeless and flu season, realizing that for the first time in my entire life, I had no idea what I had gotten myself into when I decided that you were the one. I guess you could say that those two weeks brought a concise end to the honeymoon I thought I would be promised the moment my plane landed on Italian soil.

Even in my darkest times, it was you and only you who brought me the saving grace that I found in the many relationships I was able to cultivate while I was away – even after I had left everyone and everything even remotely familiar some thousands of miles across the Atlantic. Friendships that unfortunately did not have the privilege of joining me on my flight home to America – something that has left me feeling empty and unfamiliar around people and places that have and always will be integral parts of my life.

You left me feeling helplessly discouraged with my ability to communicate and interact with you. I hated that you made me completely relocate and live without running water for almost an entire month. You made me so frustrated that I would break down and cry for no reason, and sometimes I blamed myself because I knew that I had made the decision to temporarily abandon all of my worldly comforts just so that I could be with you. You forced me out of my comfort zone and I often found myself staring in the mirror barely able to recognize my own reflection.

Sometimes all I wanted to do was leave you, and on many occasions I did. I left you for Spain, Morocco, Croatia, Belgium, Holland, and even Austria. They were all great lovers, but to be perfectly honest, none of them even began to compare to you. After all, you were the one I always came home to.

Only later would I finally discover that it was everything that I once hated about you then that has made me fall so blindly in love with you now. So what if all of my friends thought your name was pronounced like an American deli meat and that you paled in comparison to the more glamorous-seeming cities like Florence or Rome. From the homeless punk-hippies who made my street corner a common hang out place to the graffiti adorned carelessly on your old and faded walls, nothing of the sort could ever convince me now that you are not the one.

I miss everything about you. I miss dining with you for hours beneath the porticoes, drowning in liters of wine, incessant conversation and how simple a thing as happiness is to come by. I miss the friends you introduced me to who became such major parts of my heart, and yet are no longer parts of life. I miss your voice and everything that I once resented about the unfamiliarity of your language. I miss your aversion to dishwashers and dryers, even though that meant I had to wash everything by hand. I miss just being with you. All those lazy days we spent together lying in the grass in Giardini Margherita picnicking, playing soccer and listening to the locals playing Pugliese folk music. I miss the way you helped me discover so many different things about myself and the person that I could be. I miss your spontaneity and care-free attitude. How you made me feel like nothing could ever again be wrong in the world.

And the hardest part about all of this is that we had finally figured each other out the moment I realized how little time we had left to be together.

Some don’t believe our souls are meant to find a mate.
That no matter what, we will be left utterly alone at the end of the day.
You have you and I have me.
Until you wake up and discover that all this time, every part of yourself you considered your own unique piece, your personal treasure – well, it doesn’t actually belong to you.
Because after all, who are we but reflections of all the beautiful things we see in the world; smeared and speckled slightly by dirt and grime we either attempt to clean or condemn.
And yet neither beauty nor ugliness would exist in complete isolation.
Myself and my soul are me because of you.
Every tiny little ray of goodness that exudes from you has become a part of me.
For the beauty of the world lies not in the hands of I; but rather can be found in the crux of every different strand of companionship.
The chapters you have written in my life are extraordinary and unrivalled.
And though the eroding forces of time may one day leave those pages yellowed and torn, the stories they tell have been permanently imprinted in the most precious depths of my memory.
Maybe I don’t believe in a higher power than that of ourselves, but somewhere within me resides the belief that sometimes true love has a way of finding its way back into our lives.
Back to the people and places where the most pure forms of bliss and happiness dug their deepest roots.

È peccato che dovrà finire

Exams and classes are finished, summer has sprouted, and I can feel the approaching proximity of July 9th - a day that has lingered dauntingly in the back of my mind since my return flight back to the US was officially booked. However up until now, with just under a month left in Italy, it hasn't really hit me. I have spent this past week or so amidst painful goodbyes, last hoorahs, and birthdays and am secretly dreading the day where I will wake up in the morning and no longer refer to my apartment on Via Irnerio as home. Parting ways with some of my best friends here has weighed heavily on my heart and a large part of me is still in disbelief that it is almost over. That it is already mid-June and my time here is quickly dwindling.

And yet from these rather melancholy thoughts has sprung the realization that even in its most simplest form, Bologna means more to me than I could have ever imagined. My life here for the past month or so has been rather tranquil. Aside from a week trip to Southern Italy next week, my travel plans have mellowed out and my days and nights have been spent pleasantly in Italy's most underrated city and I couldn't be happier. From lounging leisurely in Giardini Margherita for long afternoons, devoting full days to making hand-made pasta, to laughing and chatting for hours over a dinner that has managed to endure until midnight, I have been soaking up every little ounce of la vita italiana that I possibly can.

And after a bit of a rocky start with my living situation I am finally comfortably situated and feel as though I have been embraced as an integral part of the house. Not only did I have to pick up and move into another apartment midway through the program, but in my new apartment, our bathroom was suddenly struck by the misfortunes that come hand in hand with ancient, rotting pipes. We were left without water for about 2 weeks and without a properly functioning bathroom and shower for a month. 5 days a week our apartment was inhabited by workers who were hired to literally gut out the entirety of our old bathroom and rebuild a new one in its place. The pace of their work was characteristic of the stereotypical conception of the Italian lifestyle but at this point I really can't complain - our new bathroom is beautiful. Not to mention that it gave us a great excuse to throw a big dinner party to celebrate when everything was finally finished (need I mention it probably took an extra week or two to install actual lights in our new bathroom....).

So just as I have found my niche among the locals, just as everything little thing that was once so foreign to me has become as second-natured as waking up in the morning and brushing your teeth, I will have to return to a world that semplicamente, non è così. It just isn't the same. It's a feeling that leaves me rendered with a terrible heart-ache and a burst of excitement all at the same time. I am spinning through a reality of falling in love with a city and the intimate bonds I cherish with the place where I grew up. The place that up until this point in my life has been the sole source from where all of my most precious relationships and memories have been derived. The prospect of ever feeling such a connection to a place so different would have never crossed my mind. And yet I have nonetheless fallen head over heels for Bologna. I have fallen so blindly that despite how much I can't wait to be reunited with everything I left behind, the thought of having to leave is unbearable.

As cliche as it may sound, there is no better way to describe it then bitter sweet. I have since realized that try as I might, no combination of words will ever be sufficient enough to recreate every emotion that has been flooding through my body since the moment I stepped foot on Italian soil. And as sad as it will be to leave, the beauty of this whole experience resides in the fact that it will solely exist in this time and this place. Nothing will ever rival it, nothing will ever change it, and nothing will even begin to compare to how much this city now means to me.

A Whole New World

I envisioned Morocco in my mind as a slightly less glamorous version of Aladdin. Well, at least as far as looks go. But what I didn't realize at all when I booked my 22 Euro round trip flight to Fez was that I would be entering a world wholly unfamiliar to anything I have ever known in my entire life. Part of me feels at a loss of words to describe in totality the initial dose of culture shock I felt when I first arrived, but it was by far the most mind-altering and monumental experience I have encountered in the 20 years that I have lived so far.

It was the first time that I found myself immersed within a culture that was different from my own in almost every aspect. The people, the language, the religion, the type of lifestyle - EVERYTHING was different. But by no means different in a bad way. Morocco is indeed much poorer than the U.S and the standard of living is also much lower, however; I was surprised to discover that the quality of life could be considered more or less the same.

This sort of revelation I expected from a country like Italy where, despite higher unemployment rates and lower standards for career advancements and high salaries, the people nonetheless seem genuinely happier than a lot of Americans. But in Morocco, I did not expect to confront a people who were so unbelievably hospitable, friendly, and happy to just ... be.

Personally, I couldn't communicate very well with anyone considering the fact that I don't speak Arabic or French, but I was lucky enough to be accompanied by a friend who has been living there since August and has in many ways become very integrated and adapted to the type of lifestyle there. He recounted innumerable occasions in which he would be confronted by random people on the streets, strike up a conversation, and after 10 minutes have exchanged numbers and received a mandatory invitation to dine at their house anytime he felt like stopping by.

Now this is not to say that Morocco doesn't have its fair share of problems - poverty, being incessantly hassled to buy some sort of product, widespread attempts to rip-off consumers to name a few - but every place has its pros and cons.

I was even more struck by the influence that Islam has had on the cities I visited. I have never been to a place where the majority of the population is Muslim and by this I was overwhelmed in every sense of the word. I simply didn't know what to expect. The style of dress is very conservative, everyday phrases are infused with Muslim blessings, and bars and alcohol are scarce as they are forbidden by the Islamic codes. Moreover, the role that women played in society and the overall lack of choices and opportunities that most of them have was inconceivable.

But getting to hear the call to prayer five times a day was a phenomenon that was both incredibly bewildering and beautiful at the same time. We would be sitting on the terrace of our hostel watching the sun set and suddenly, around 8:00 the call would begin. The Muslim song would echo through the city in waves, bouncing off of the nearby mountains, and reverberating throughout every building reaching your ears just in time to send shivers up and down your entire body. Everything seemed to stop still in time. It left me with an extraordinary sensation of tranquility as if everything were at peace in the world. I grew up going to Church for countless years, but never before in my life did I witness firsthand the ability of a religion to captivate the hearts and minds of an entire population in a matter of seconds.

I was left with an unquenchable thirst to be thrown into other places and cultures as equally diverse as this one. It only took two cities in one country to instill within me an indistinguishable sense of exhilaration, awe, and wonder. I realized just how large the world truly is and how small I am in comparison. I have since been left with the itching and inexorable desire to come back after I return to the U.S. to finish my last year at school. To come back to Italy, Morocco, and the millions of other places the world has to offer. I have dangled my feet in its waters and now I want nothing more than to be entirely submerged.

Street view from our hostel in Fez

Fez

Street in Chefchaouen

Chefchaouen

View of Chefchaouen from the terrace

Chefchaouen

Delirium and Disneyland

Almost every detail of our trip to Brussels and Amsterdam was planned out. Flights, trains, the addresses of our hostels, directions to and from our hostels, every bar we would go to our first night in Brussels, and even how we would spend the awkward four hours between our arrival in Brussels from Amsterdam at midnight and our flight back to Bologna at the God-forsaken hour of 6:00 AM. At least such were our thoughts until the tram that was supposed to take us to our hostel in Amsterdam suddenly crashed into a Mercedes. I was jolted a bit from my seat only to be greeted by the too tranquil voice of the tram conductor: "I'm sorry, there has been an accident." And basta così.That was all he had to say. To add to the chaos, the specialty beer I had just bought in Brussels exploded all over the white shirt I was wearing. I was not a happy camper at the moment, but before long we had begun musing in and out various streets, buildings, and coffeeshops. Three hours later we finally made it to our hostel to check in.

Although I must say that up until that point things had gone pretty smoothly. Our first night in Brussels turned out to be a huge success and in less than 24 hours, I was sufficiently introduced to several of Belgium's most prized possessions: Waffles, Beer and Chocolate. And aside from a few initial minor mishaps, I couldn't have better things to say about Amsterdam.

For me, it was like a Disney World for adults. I am in complete agreement with my "Let's Go Europe 2011 Student Travel Guide" when it says "Yes, marijuana is legal here, but there is so much more here than drugs and tulips." (And I didn't even get to see the tulips when I went). Not only was the city drop-dead gorgeous with its cobblestone streets, miniature canals and picturesque style of Dutch architecture, but it was also the most biker-friendly city I have ever seen in my entire life.

This may seem like something a bit lack-luster to emphasize considering the fact that there are indeed innumerable places in the U.S. and throughout the world where bikes are a common find. However, Amsterdam is the super-capital of this type of crunchy,“go-green” lifestyle. They really aren't joking when they warn you about getting run over by a bicycle there. In Amsterdam, bikes are not inferior to cars, but instead give a new meaning to the term “right of way.” Don’t think for one second that a biker will slow down for a pedestrian without a red light or a good reason to stop. Every road that can be accessed by car, is also just as bike-friendly. Bike lanes (and I'm talking extremely legitimate bike lanes) are as natural a thing as riding the subway in New York City. The bike lines in Amsterdam aren’t dinky little side-walks meant to be shared by walkers, runners, and the like and are instead fully equipped with stop-lights, lanes, and a pace of traffic that is high-speed and anything but a lazy ride through the park. But it's reputation as the cycling capital of the world isn’t the only thing that made Amsterdam such a memorable place for me. More importantly, it was the type of lifestyle that it inherently promotes. A lifestyle that is healthy for the environment, the body and the soul.

On our second night in Amsterdam, after a long and exhausting day of exploration, we found ourselves caught in the middle of a rainstorm at 10 or 11 at night with a 20 to 25 minute bike ride to make back to our hostel. But even under less-than-ideal circumstances, the ride home proved to be one of the most magical moments I could pinpoint during the entire trip. The cool and slightly icy breeze whipped my hair back as I pedaled through beautifully lit streets and canals unable to stop myself from thinking that I could really get used to this type of lifestyle.

Moreover, getting to visit exhibits such as the Anne Frank House and the Van Gogh Museum made the whole experience that much more incredible. We even found ourselves neck deep in the middle of a huge Pillow fight that occupied the whole of Dam Square.

And even after delirious last night in Belgium preceded by a full day in Amsterdam, I found myself wishing I had just a little bit more time to spend there. I say delirious because being the cheap, poor college students that we are, we decided not to book a hostel for our last night in Belgium since our flight back to Bologna was so early in the morning. Instead, we booked a late train back from Amsterdam that landed us in Brussels around midnight with 4 hours to kill until our train back to the airport. We spent those four long hours in one of Brussels' most distinguished bars: Delirium. We were five extremely exhausted girls surrounded by over 2,000 different types of beer. After sampling a liter of Cactus-flavored beer (in a glass shaped like a boot), we spent most of the time chilling and people watching. In hindsight maybe it wasn’t the most ideal situation, but, it was an experience nonetheless. When we finally got back to Bologna around 11, I practically slept for the next day and a half. But it was worth every second of time I was able to spend traveling.

Street in Brussels

Belgian Waffle!

Brussels

Chocolate!!!!

Me on my bike! :)

Pillow fight in Dam Square

Iamsterdam Sign

Tram accident

Heineken Experience

Pretty canals and bicycles

I was Enchanted to Meet You

When I initially began thinking about where I wanted to travel when I came abroad, I knew Spain was high on my list of places to go. However, I had never really given much thought to exactly where I wanted to go. I wish I had the time to spend months exploring Spain because there are just so many incredible cities to visit. But I decided on Madrid shortly after discovering that Taylor Swift would be performing there as a part of her 2011 European Tour.

I know, seeing a Taylor Swift concert isn't appealing to a lot of people. Her music isn't especially extraordinary in many senses, but she is able to do one thing better than almost any other artist of her genre. Through her music she can tap into every stream of emotion and crazy feeling that almost every girl experiences growing up. Whether it be anger, heart-break, life's simple pleasures, or the exciting rush of finding love I can guarantee you that there is a Taylor Swift song to match. And for those of us who have fallen shamelessly in love with her songs, seeing her in concert would be the absolute climax. With these opportunities on the table, I booked a flight to Madrid and bought a ticket to see Taylor Swift live.

I ended up flying to Madrid with my friend Alexa and we were lucky enough to have been able to stay with her friends in their apartment which made budgeting for the trip much easier. We also met up with our friend Becky, another fellow Taylor Swift junky who would be my date to the concert.

The city of Madrid itself was a Spanish metropolitan beauty. The buildings were tall, white, and architecturally designed in a manner I had yet been exposed to. Although Bologna is a pretty big city, it is nothing compared to the size of Madrid. I had forgotten what it felt like to be in a city of that size. I'm used to relying on walking to get me just about everywhere I need to go, and in Madrid we quickly learned that becoming familiar with the metro system was an invaluable tool to getting around the city. Although we also did our fair share of walking as we ambled throughout the streets exploring the vastness of the city.

Among the many sights to see we visited Plaza Mayor, toured the Reina Sofia Museum, ate numerous tapas, chilled in the enormous Parque de Retiro, saw La Puerta del Sol, and enjoyed being exposed to a culture I had yet to confront.

Plaza Mayor

Me in Plaza Mayor

We of course had to get Churros.

Amidst the blur and excitement that comes with being thrown into a new city (and for the first time in my life feeling strangely out of place because people weren't speaking Italian), the night of the Taylor Swift concert approached and I could barely contain my excitement. We scored killer seats on the "pista" for a price we would have easily had to pay three times as much for in the States. I sang (aka screamed) along to every song and the rush of energy and elation I felt couldn't have been topped. I was completely and utterly enchanted. The Taylor Swift high persisted for hours after the concert ended and I cannot tell you how many times I found myself thinking "I can't believe I am here right now."

Me and Becky at the Taylor Swift concert!!!!!

We were SO close ...

Taylor and her Sparkly guitar ...

PAELLA!!

"Guernica" at the Museo de Reina Sofia

My first trip outside of Italy not only left me with a feeling of nostalgia for the Spanish language (which I have almost entirely forgotten since I last studied it in high school) but also made me realize how comfortable I had become speaking Italian on an every day basis. It was the first time that I was overcome with the sensation of missing Bologna, my new home. Because despite how wonderful my trip to Madrid had been, I couldn't wait to set foot back in Bologna.

Carnevale a Venezia

I had barely been in Italy a week and a half before I decided to book a trip to Venice during Carnivale with the other Americans in my program who have since become some of my best friends. All of the students in the year long program warned us that we should book our hostel ASAP if we wanted to find a place that was relatively inexpensive before everything filled up. We huddled around our laptops frantically researching hostels in and around Venice, praying that we would be able to find SOMETHING.

Before I knew it, the trip was booked. I could barely contain my excitement. We would be going to Venice.

Throughout my younger years I had always had these wild dreams of one day visiting Venice. I would create pictures in my mind of this fantastical city on the sea that I had only ever seen in photos. I even attempted to make drawings or paintings that would capture my conception of this beautiful city that had lingered in my thoughts since childhood. I don't know exactly what possessed me to have such a fascination with Venice - a fascination that persisted with the same vehemence despite the countless times I had been told by others that it was smelly and overrated. Their judgments fell on deaf ears. And now I would finally have the chance to judge for myself.

While it is indeed true that Venice is often wrought with rainy and less than desirable weather, the beauty of the city on a pretty day is worth a year of stormy weather. And we lucked out with a weekend of beautiful and sunny weather. It was by far my favorite place I have visited outside of Bologna thus far. Venice surpassed every adolescent expectation I had ever possessed of how gorgeous it would be. I was in paradise. I found myself meandering through the side-streets and bridges that wove through the canals of all sizes with one of those silly grins on my face that are nearly impossible to wipe off because I was in such awe.

I came away with some amazing pictures, but they can hardly do the city justice.

Getting to spend a weekend in Venezia during Carnevale - essentially the Italian version of Mardi Gras but so much better - made my time there that much more of an experience. The costumes were incredible and indescribable in so many ways as if to mirror the marvel of the city itself.

Me in front of St. Marco.

We also ventured to the island of Murano, which is where all of the famous Venetian glass is produced, and were able to see first-hand how the glass is made.

The making of a Venetian glass horse.

The final product - it literally took less than 5 minutes. Incredible.

Post-face painting! During Carnevale Italian art students swarm the piazzas to paint the faces of anyone who is brave enough to trust them. Their work was amazing.

No Longer Just a Guest - This City is Mine

About a month ago I received a message from my friend Kevin from Chapel Hill, who is currently studying in London, saying that he was ready to book a ticket to Bologna to come visit me the minute I gave him the go ahead on a weekend that would work for us both. I was taken by surprise at first because as much as me and my friends who are also abroad now had discussed visiting each other while we in Europe beforehand, it was always this distant concept. I couldn't really conceive of it actually happening because, well, I've never done this before. But after the initial shock of "wow I'm in Europe and it's so easy to travel" I was flooded with excitement. We picked a weekend and his flight was confirmed online with RyanAir and written down almost immediately after on my calendar.

As the weekend grew nearer, so did my anticipation. Aside from the homesickness I felt during the apartment hunt, I often forget how far away from home I actually am. Every now and then I am overcome with waves of nostalgia but it comes and goes. At the same time, I was so looking forward to seeing a familiar face. I was also a bit nervous because Bologna doesn't offer much in the tourism department and I wanted to make sure that Kevin got the full Bologna experience.

He arrived around 10:30 Saturday morning and we barely skipped a beat. Since it was a bit early for lunch, I decided to take him to the open-air market, which is set up every Friday and Saturday on the main road not too far from my apartment. There are vendors of almost every type and everything is super cheap. My friends and I frequent the open-air market quite often and one of our favorite things to do is pay a visit to the stalls that sell sweaters for 1 euro. They all have funky colors and patterns and weird graphics, but with a little digging you will undoubtedly find a fashionable treasure. We may have hit the jackpot. For myself a blue sweatshirt that reads "Simply Sensational" in cursive script and for Kevin, a red sweatshirt depicting a seal wearing a Santa Claus hat done in a style that reminds me of the Coca Cola polar bear. I think he fell in love with Bologna then and there.

Euro Sweaters!

We then went met up with my friend Allie and headed to one of my favorite restaurants, Trattoria Rosso which offers a menu of the day consisting of two courses and dessert or caffè for 10 euro. Not to mention you can get amazing wine for a very affordable price. And the food is ALWAYS delicious. Bologna may not have much to offer for tourism purposes, but there is honestly no better place to indulge in outstanding food. And that we certainly did on several occasions. I also had the privilege of introducing Kevin to the wonders of gelato, in addition to the traditional Italian breakfast of Cappuccino e Brioche.

Not only did I get the opportunity to revisit some of my favorite places in Bologna while catching up with a friend from home, but I was also able to discover a new part of Bologna that I had yet to see. Since the weather was nice on Saturday, we made the trek up to San Luca, a church that sits atop a hill overlooking the city. To get there you must hike up the side of the hill beneath exactly 666 arches of "porticci." These porticci were constructed in order to protect those wishing to make this pilgrimage - a historically symbolic journey in which one is traversing his or her sins (hence the 666 arches) to make it to San Luca. It was indeed quite a hike, but the sites that greeted us once we made it were unbelievable. Inside and out San Luca is absolutely gorgeous and the views looking down over Bologna and its surrounding towns were breath-taking. We spent a lovely afternoon there.

The stairs leading up the 666 Arches

San Luca

Kevin and I in front of San Luca

Skyline view from San Luca

Sunday was full of more delicious food, gelato, a visit to the Due Torri, as well as a trip to a Chocolate Festival. Unfortunately after Saturday's warm spell I woke up to find snow on the ground Sunday morning. Only in Bologna. However, the view from the Due Torri was nonetheless beautiful. It was actually kind of cool to see it with the snow falling even though very little of it actually stuck to the ground and eventually turned into a cold rain.

View of Bologna from the Due Torri amidst the snow and fog

But the chocolate festival was by far the main attraction of the day. We paid 10 Euro to enter the modern-day version of Willy Wonka's Chocolate factory. We were treated to three floors free samples of chocolate from all around the world, and we definitely got our money's worth. There was chocolate of every flavor, type, and shape from moka pots to a chocolate rendition of Bologna's Due Torri. They even had chocolate wine and probably some of the best balsamic vinegar I have ever tasted. Everything was delicious and despite how full I was getting, I couldn't stop. I felt like a little kid in a candy store. It was so cool. They also had shows going on throughout the duration. The stomach ache I had afterward was totally worth every bite.

Chocolate Festival!

Chocolate Due Torri

On Monday I had class from 9-3 so I handed Kevin my map and sent him on a tour of some of Bologna's most beautiful churches, including La Basilica di San Petroni and La Cattedrale di San Pietro (one of my personal favorites). He was also able to venture down to the Giardini Margherita even though the weather wasn't necessarily ideal for outside activities. After class we met up at one of my favorite book stores, which has three floors including a restaurant and a winery, and we sat for a while and chatted over a glass of wine. After a delicious and early dinner at Osteria dell'Orsa I said my farewells as Kevin boarded the bus that would take him to the airport.

I wouldn't change a thing about how the weekend progressed. The weather could have been nicer, but it was wonderful and so nice to have been able to catch up with one of my friends from home and bond over our experiences thus far and everything that we miss from Chapel Hill and from home. And although I can't speak for Kevin himself, I think he ended up having an amazing time, so I was glad that I was able to be a good host. Showing him around for the weekend made me realize how much I have come to know Bologna. I have favorite places and hang-outs, and I can even name off the top of my head at least three places that sell bottles of diet coke for around a euro (which is extremely important not only for my addiction to diet coke, but also for my bank account because a lot of the main-stream places hike up the prices to 2,50). It is a great feeling. Bologna, tu sei la mia città.