Site, Structure, Skin: Intermezzo

A short movement separating the first and second years of Site, Structure, Skin.

Il Pelicano | 2004-08

Week One
There are several problems with Bologna. Foremost is the heat, which is like staring into a blow-dryer. Then there’s the problem of opening hours and dates. You’ve taken to siestas at mid-day because there’s nothing going on except the heat. Then there’s the problem of the gelato at Gelateria Novecento (22 Via Guiseppe Massarenti), where it became obvious in one William S. Burroughs moment that you had never before, in fact, tasted real ice cream. You’re 31. What travesty could have caused this? Why was a series of unconnected, and now seemingly miraculous events required to change this? These are the problems that plague you.
Week Two
You came to Bologna fearful of the porticoes, which were reputed to stifle any welcome breeze that might help to cool city walkers. You found, however, that you bolt from the welcome shade of one portico to the next as you make your way through town. You find that you only select cross-streets to walk down if there’s a sufficiently inviting portico present. Crossing streets is a drag: that’s where the sun and traffic is. Under the ceiling, there’s shade and goodness, shop windows and people.
Week Three
The stores and bars along the length of Via San Vitale aren't so much opened and closed, as much as they are inhabited by close social events, which spill out into the arcade.
Week Four
You’ve been in Bologna for over three weeks now, and essentially the only Italian you’ve learned is how to order gelato. “Io desidero uno gelato pistacchio.” Nice work. Oh, and the tidy little combination “Scarpe bene.” Handy. Your waiter at Caffè Maxim (expensive, brilliantly located, shaded) has been in Bologna for 27 months. You’ve heard him switch between three languages, and since yo’ve learned he’s Bangladeshi, there’s a fourth. You feel guilty. Gelato pistacchio, indeed.
Week Five
You feel like you fought the great war with your supper through the night, and now in the morning you’re losing the armistice. Antipasti, primi, secondi, dolci, wine, cappuccini, and limoncelli simply can’t be reasonably consumed in one (four hour) sitting. Tomatoes & water buffalo mozzarella under olive oil, tagliatelli with ragù, pork cutlet breaded with cheese and ham beneath a tomato-cream sauce, tiramisu, Sangiavese, Chianti Classico, house limoncello, plus a frothy duo-tone cappuccino, one of only a couple you’ve had in recent years. And bread of course. Oh my.

When your digestive tract recovers, grab a discount airline back to Halifax, and catch the culmination of Site, Structure, Skin.

’Namo!

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