Do all cultures have their own version of happy hour? In Italy, it’s aperitivo, or APE for short. My couchsurfing host Maurizio put the word out that he was taking me to Hora Feliz (happy hour?!) and over a dozen couchsurfers showed up to join the fun. Here’s how it works at HF:
Two buffet tables are set up. You pay 5 euros and that gets you a drink and all you can eat. Yea! The kitchen staff kept bringing food out like some kind of Italian wedding. Some things I saw and ate:
- Mozzerella and tomato salad
- Fried potatoes
- Pasta with tuna, I think
- Greens
- Rice pilaf with squid
- Crostini
- Sliced peaches
- Some fried things
- And much much more.
While these kind of spreads at first seem great – woo! – look at all that food on offer – they can actually be kinda bad. You don’t really know what you’re eating, you don’t know how much you’re eating, and let’s not even talk about a balanced meal or proper food combining. Let’s just not go there.
Ivana and I with our hair garnishes.
I did well, I think. I didn’t eat too much. I met a handful of couchsurfers and we chatted about life. I learned that there would be a transportation strike in the morning, until 1:00. I asked what I should do with a morning in Milano. A Francis Bacon exhibit was recommended, which I wasn’t too terribly interested in. Is FB morose or what?
At 9:30, then 9:50, a bell rang and there was shouting, indicating that the happy hour was almost over. The place was packed with people taking full advantage of the buffet. The CS party left and here’s where Group Mind kicked in.
You know Group Mind. No one is in charge and so it takes a long time to do anything. It had been decided that we would go to the San Lorenzo church and see the columns. So we stood in front of the restaurant for awhile. Then headed toward the church.
Then stopped at a playground and played on the swings and the monkey bars for 30 minutes. Then walked. Then stopped to say goodbye to a few who were peeling away. Kisses for everyone. Then a drink from the fountain for everyone. Then the moon showed up, a sliver between the roofs of the church. Then, finally, the columns that were once part of the original church. There we took up residence with all the other people hanging around chatting and drinking beer.
By then I was tired so I walked to the metro with Roberta. She’s a food writer, a food stylist and the producer of a web site devoted to food and literature. The company she works for has published several books about the food life of literary notables. Think Emma Bovary, Alice in Wonderland, Ernest Hemingway.
Roberta was great and I hope to see her again when I come to Milano in June for Radiohead.
Today I decided to go to the exhibit but the metro was closed and I was saved from a bleak art show. But I tried. I had an open mind. Instead I went to the outdoor market near where I was staying where I had a run-in with the Italian police. Let’s just say I’m lucky they didn’t kick me out of the country.
There are some serious crimes in Italy and touching the fruit is one of them. I chose a basket of strawberries and picked it up to give to the vendor. He yelled at me and I knew I'd crossed a boundary. Doh! Then a policewoman showed me her polizia badge and told me that touching the fruit was a no-no. At first it was a bit scary and then it was funny. I had to keep a straight face as she explained what I had done wrong. You don’t need a lot of Italian to figure it out. Can you imagine if I were put in jail for choosing my strawberries? I laugh now. OMG.
But I escaped and made it to Lisbon. More on that later!
I need to recalibrate my schedule so I can stay up late with all these Euro-partiers!
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