A real phat pad

27 APRIL CREVALCORE—I opened i scuri (the shutters) this morning to some tipo (guy) yelling in Arabic for what seemed like an eternity. The weather has been otherwise perfect for the last two days; blue cloudless skies, temperature in the seventies.

Crevalcore (www.comune.crevalcore.it) is a small town of about 12,000 inhabitants. It is located approximately 28 km to the northwest of Bologna. It is closer to Modena than Bologna but still in the province of Bologna, so the cars have little ‘BOs’ on the border of their license plates. The guidebooks tell us that the name Crevalcore probably comes from the Latin crepa corium (scorza crepa in modern Italian) which means something like crusty cracks in English. Scholars believe this is because Crevalcore sits in the marshy flood plain of the Panaro River where the ground used to open up during the hot summer months. Modern irrigation has disposed of this problem. A large dike now runs along the length of the river, farmers’ vineyards and vegetable gardens nestled in its shadow.

The town is organized around two porte (doors), the Porta Bologna and the Porta Modena, that used to be the entrances to the protective ramparts, long since gone. It has a very symmetrical street plan that is faithful to the Roman hamlet of antiquity upon which it is built. We live on Via XX Settembre which runs perpendicular to Via Matteotti, the main portico-lined street in town. All of these side streets are lined with tile-roofed, earth-toned apartment buildings. The streets are barely wide enough for two cars to pass and are made of various sized bricks. Everything in town looks like it has been recently renovated. The manhole covers on our street say 2004 on them. Lucky for me the Romans designed this town, otherwise I’m sure I would be lost half the time. As it is, the way to the store is: down two blocks, cut over one to the right, continue past Via Matteotti for one more block where the little strip mall sits on a corner outside of where the ramparts would have been.

Our apartment is on the second floor of a three family dwelling. There is an older lady who lives below us and a recently- widowed man and his daughter live next door. They have a big black cat named Nerone (Nero) who comes to visit on the roof that is below our back window. Our pad looks to be about 600 square feet, tops. We have a kitchen/living room that is fully furnished. There is an antique buffet that weighs about two tons on the left side, an antique table with four matching chairs in the middle and a new love seat that Stef just bought at IKEA that we are desperately trying to keep the cats from shredding. On the right is a countertop that runs the length of the wall. The fridge occupies the corner. In the middle of the counter is a stainless steel four-burner gas range. The sink is on the left end. Above are matching cabinets with a built in exhaust fan. In between the cabinets and the fridge is our water heater which is about the size of a bar fridge. The ceilings appear to be about 12 feet high. The floor and the wall behind the counter is covered in matching tile. Our landlord, a really nice older man with a heavy Bolognese accent, brought us a new 20-inch T.V. last night; it sits on the buffet. Need cable though. Italian T.V. is really crap. Ours is crap, too, but with better production values. More on that later.

The bedroom has a nice queen-size bed and several pieces of antique furniture. Tommy D would love to get his hands on this stuff. There is one window in the kitchen which looks out on Via XX Settembre, one in the bedroom which looks out in to someone’s courtyard and one in the bathroom, again on Via XX Settembre. (Note to self: Find out what the hell happened on XX Settembre.)

The bathroom is rather spacious and is directly in front of the front door and a small entry hall. Again, everything is brand new. Shower, sink, commode and of course the ubiquitous bidet (bidè in Italian). Reminds me of the joke from Crocodile Dundee when Paul Hogan sees the bidet for the first time and asks Linda Koslowski what it’s for. She tells him to figure it out and promptly turns and leaves. He messes with it and sees how the water shoots straight up in the air. He runs to the window and calls down to her as she’s getting into a cab, “It’s for washing your backside isn’t it?!” She gives him the thumbs up. Most people here just use it as an auxiliary sink for hand washing things with Woolite.

The walls in this place are—wait, let me go measure—14 inches thick. Residential buildings are built with cinder blocks and covered with an adobe-like material and paint on the outside, a layer of insulation followed by plaster on the inside. No drywall here, baby. The windows are double paned with fancy rubber seals. There are wooden shutters on the outside that you can fix into place with these little iron busts of Garibaldi (I assume) that flip up. You close them at night. Thank god that these are back in fashion. During the 60s and 70s tapparelle (roll down shutters) were in fashion. It makes places look like NATO bunkers. They’re still around, but you see much less of them. We get decent cross ventilation but I’m sure we’re going to have to invest in a fan for the summer. I also want to get the materials to make some zanzariere (screens). A lot of people have air conditioning now which is a testament to how hot that summer was a couple of years ago when so many people died. People either have these fancy digital floor units that come with remote controls and an exhaust tube you run out the window or these 3’x3’ white units that are mounted on exterior walls,usually next to the satellite dish! Satellite dishes are less and less common as fiber optic cable reaches more and more people. Most cables are buried here and it takes more time to get everyone hooked up in the outlying areas. Stefania’s parents have Alice in Crespellano which is like Time Warner and have DSL Internet and Sky cable T.V. So we go there when they aren’t home to catch up on Internet and good T.V.

Today, I had the car because Stefania had to go to Florence for an early meeting and took the company wheels to drive down there. (Sounds cool, doesn’t it. But work is work anywhere.) First, I stopped by the KOOP grocery store to pick up a bottle of red sparkling wine. I spent 4.35 euros. Man, wine is cheap here. That bottle would cost more than twice that in the States. This bottle happens to be from Treviso but it’s easy to go to local growers and stock up and even bottle it yourself. Yesterday, when I went to do some grocery shopping, I also bought a can of Pringles. Not the mini-size but the full tube, baby. I needed a fix, man. I’ve been convulsing on the bathroom floor without enough transfats in my bloodstream. Gotta get that monkey off my back. I’ve had only one can of Coke in almost two weeks, too. And this was a mini can of Coke that I got out of the machine at Alfa Wasserman, my former clients. Yes, you heard me right; machines sell six-ounce cans. And, no, I haven’t had an ice cube since I’ve been here.

Needless to say, I got busted with the Pringles. I didn’t destroy the evidence—Stefania found the can in the trash. I meant to save half the can for her but damn they were so good! Guess I have to wait till the KOOP opens tomorrow to get another fix.

The thing about junk food here in Italy is that it exists, of course, but is a bit harder to access. All shops close for two hours at noon except supermarkets. There are no quick shops that sell snacks except on the Autostrada. I had a killer headache last week and there was no aspirin in the house. Tough beans. Had to ride it out until morning. So I cried myself to sleep in pain. If you want Coke or snacks you have to go to a bar or the supermarket. And of course you pay a premium price at a bar and even more if you sit down there. Again, they keep regular hours. Haven’t read a newspaper in two weeks either. If you don’t get up early and get to the giornalaio (newsstand), you’re s.o.l. He closes at lunch. No running to Q.T. to pick up a copy of The Star. Moreover, I’ve only seen three obese people since I arrived. (I counted. Two yesterday, one last Saturday.) If you’ve got bigger than a 38-inch waist here, good luck! Better buy a big towel to wear. Need that Big Mac on the fly to feed those hungry kids at home? Drive 30 minutes to Bologna. Park outside the center, catch the 13 bus into the center of the city and walk the rest of the way to the McDonald’s. Better get there before it closes, too. I think there’s another one somewhere else around here, but I couldn’t tell you where. Drive-thrus? Hah. Never seen one. Heard they exist in some places, though. Anyway, most people wouldn’t waste the gas idling if there was a line. Let me be clear. There is no way, in Crevalcore, to get a hamburger, taco, frozen burrito etc. if you have the munchies. Nothing in the cupboard when you get home from work? Better run out to a restaurant before they close. Luckily, Italians don’t eat until 8, so you’re probably okay. There is also a notable lack of paper cups and other portable trash that people walk around with. I’ve been trying to spot paper, plastic or foam cups but have only seen them at the big mall in Casalecchio where there are some fast food joints. Local bars and cafes only serve in real glasses and cups. And even if they had a to go cup people wouldn’t walk around with them. I don’t know if there are any Starbucks in Italy yet but if there were it would be interesting to see if they modified there approach and only served in real cups. They would certainly have to use different beans than in the States. People don’t eat or drink in cars either. Our car, a 2004, doesn’t even have cup holders, just a sunglasses box. Fortunately, it is illegal to drive and talk on cell phones. Cuts down on the road fatalities. The great news is that it is now illegal to smoke indoors anywhere. When we went to that small bistro in Bologna last week not one person tried to light up. This is a small miracle in Italy where people love to try to thwart authority.

After a stop at the store I determined I didn’t have enough money to wash the car at one of those do-it-yourself places I found so I headed for a nice drive north to explore the roads for future cycling possibilities. Windows were down and I had the new Cold Play song, Speed of Sound, on Radio Monte Carlo cranked. Looks pretty good for the bike. I drove for 20km over to a small town with a nice castle called Gallezza, then doubled back towards Crevalcore and found a nice, small country road that went along underneath the dikes of the Panaro River. This will probably be my main track for a while as I only encountered a few cars and one truck (even though they are forbidden on this road). Everyone rides bikes here. You see the typical guys of all ages wearing racing gear to people in their seventies and eighties trundling along on ancient, creaking bikes wearing tweed sport coats. Still need to do a couple of things to my rig which is back in Crespellano, though. I need some lithium grease to lube the parts I had to put back together after the trip and will need to invest in a new rear cassette to get smaller gears if I plan on climbing the hills that start at Crespellano. Around these parts it’s as flat as a pancake since we’re in the Po River Valley. The hills around Crespellano are full of 14% grades and tornanti (switchbacks), but the scenery is incredible. I want to drive to Fanano this weekend which is in the Appenines in the Province of Modena.There’s still snow on top. You can see it from Crespellano. On the way to Moteveglio on Monday, we hit one stretch of road with 5 switchbacks in a row then came across a ‘beware of the deer’ sign and some country boys in camo gear standing next to a car. Bet I know what they were doing. However, Stefania swears she has never seen a deer in this area before. Well, I’ve never seen the Tooth Fairy, but I know she exists because she leaves me 5 bucks every time I lose a tooth in a hockey fight.

Happy Birthday Steve.