Paganello in one shot

Paganello: JB Mastermind's Destruction
Originally uploaded by lovegreg

People often ask what kind of things happen at Paganello. Check out this picture and imagine the rest.

I am really going to miss the tournament.

Italy: Bring Your Own Oats

Cristiano, Raffa and her family were very gracious hosts again this year for my pilgrimage to Italia. I was able to spend two nights with them in their palatial Como home. In exchange for hospitality, I needed to bake my Mom's Ultimate Cookies for Raffa's mom.

"No sweat. I got this," I thought. "I've made those cookies twice before in Italia."

That was all true buscept the part where I forgot (as did Raffa) where we got all the ingredients for the previous batches of biscotti. The most difficult ingredient to find last time was oats (aveno); this year was no exception. We scoured the grocery store and pestered her mom and friends, but Raffa and I couldn't find any aveno.

So, we did what everyone in a crisis should do. We ate a big lunch and then she went to the dentist so I went walkabout.

My GPS got me back to the car on time but Raffa wasn't back yet. Had she been back, I wouldn't have wandered away from the car and run smack dab into a health food store.

That right - A HEALTH FOOD STORE IN ITALY! That's about as ironic as "a free ride when you've already paid." We're talking about a country that is barren of veggies unless you count mozzarella and the tomatoes in your insalata caprese.

I'm sure the lady had never seen an Americano so excited to buy a kilo of oats. Clearly she didn't understand the pressure I was under to deliver the dolce vita to Raffa's house.

That lady's aveno saved the day, but securing the ingredients turned out to be the easy part since the recipe is in cups and everything - EVERYTHING - is measured in grams.

Anyone got any idea how many grams of broken up chocolate Easter egg equates to one cup of semi-sweet morsels? It's 250.

And another thing. I understood why I got weird looks when I asked the grocer where the oats were. However, there is no plausible explanation as to why Raffa and everyone in her house looked at me like I was daft when I asked for a glass of cold milk. Cold milk and chocolate chip cookies go together like Peaches & Herb, Ebony & Ivory, bacon & bacon...

First Class fare is worth it to sit down

Leaving Rimini gets tougher every year. The post-Paga Blues sometimes set in before you even get to the station and definitely attack you once you validate your ticket. But it pays to buy your ticket ASAP because the trains sell out quickly due to the holidays and the Paga travellers.

I'd like to think that I didn't buy my departure ticket immediately to help fend off the Paga Blues. But that wasn't the case. I just forgot to do it in typical jackass fashion. It's been nine years, and I still haven't learned.

Sara and Luca drove me to the station on Monday to book my journey to Milano. The only reserved seat ticket I could get was for the 5 PM Inter City train instead of steady pimping on the EuroStar. I took it since standing up on a train for three plus hours sucks. It is sardine-esque. Ask me about Paris to Milan sometime.

The train was packed with holiday travelers most of which were traveling only as far as Bologna. People and luggage (bagagli) were crammed into every nook on the train car (carrozza). The hallways of the first class cars are popular spots so that folks can snipe empty seats as they became available. Thus, it was impossible to make it to my cabin with all of my loot and not knock over anyone. I ditched my big backpack in the hallway and continued on with the small one and the No Tsu Oh umbrella.

Naturally my seat was taken by someone else - a woman and her daughter. I told them to stay seated but the lady was cool and got up saying, "It's OK. This is your seat."

I felt bad about it even though I did shell out my hard-earned bread to get the seat. That ended later when I figured out that the man in the hall was her husband. He came back to our cabin after the Bologna stop to retrieve luggage - about five bags. Apparently I'd missed the part of the ride where he'd already been kicked out of the cabin by other full-fare paying suckers patrons.