When in Rome see Rome. Eat bruschetta with lardo, spaghetti with truffles, fusilli with calamari. See the ancient, medieval, Renaissance, Baroque and even fascist architecture. Have some gelato, drink a cappuccino, and run through the ruins.
The Bitter Tears have two more shows in Italy: Ferrara and Faenza. It’s easy to confuse these towns with Firenze (or Florence). We were told the drive to Ferrara would be about two hours. We were also told it would be closer to five hours.
It took two hours to get near Firenze. It was 6 o’clock. We were not playing Firenze. We were playing Ferrara. The show would begin at 8. If we hurried we could---traffic. Big traffic. Hot, wet, sexy Italian traffic. I got very horny about the traffic.
There was a strict 10 o’clock curfew. It was Sunday. Zuni said if we made it by 9 we would be okay. Mike drove like Atari through the mountains, avoiding loose-laned smartcars and semis. Prepare to qualify.
The Bitter Tears and their Kool-aid Van smashed through the 16th century walls surrounding Ferrara. Oh yeah! All we had to do was get the guitars, put on the make-up, and play the hits. It was 9:30. Oh shit! Where is the club anyway?
It was opening night at Zuni, an art space situated on a pedestrian alley off the main pedestrian pedway. A crowd of kids and dogs hung around sipping wine, drinking beer, and smoking cigarettes. They seemed to understand that we were late and these things happen. We seemed to understand that we weren’t playing or getting paid and missed dinner. Also the hotel had already been booked and could we pay for some of that, too.
I got a bit bummed out and started to fall into my antisocial, anti-party, anti-people act, until Alan and I talked music, and Mike reminded me that we were in Italy. So I chose wine over whine.
Greg and Esther took us to the Castello Estense, one of the few castles in Europe surrounded by a moat. It was a Sunday night and people were everywhere, making out, sweethearting on bikes, dropping beer bottles, cheering. We sat at an outdoor patio with beer and wine, and had conversation for dinner.
The hotel was not to be believed. Fifteen-foot wooden ceilings, a kitchen with a 5-piece knife set and olive oil, a bidet, six-foot windows with a view of the cobbled street below, boobs on the TV.
Greg, Esther and I walked to the park for a beer. The kids made merry on a monument. The high-frequency chirps of bats were followed by a rolling roar of thunder. We learned a lot today. About 200 Euros. Italian tuition.
No comments:
Post a Comment