Bologna vignettes

Stefano sent me home the other night with a pomegranate from his garden. "It's good luck to have one in the house" he said. Marta and I had wandered down into the garden from his balcony to see what a disaster it had become. I'd never seen a pomegranate tree before. And Stefano pulled down a branch and pressed this underripe pomegranate into my hand, "for good luck".


A menu the other day offered "tortellini in brodo (in broth), as God commanded".

The street cleaners are passing. Loud enough to wake me at their customary 2am time. Every night the whirring machines pass at 2am, several times to cover the breadth of the street. This city has a mania for street cleaning. Riding home late at night on a bicycle on wet streets, I am reminded that I should be in bed, the streetcleaners will be disappointed if I'm not there to awaken.