On top of everything else, you can hardly think of anything weirder than the city of Bologna. There are infinite galleries with the tables arranged directly under them. People don’t get out from beneath those Gothic roofs, and you are perplexed; how and why did they fucking build hundreds of thousands of those columns, which actually were not free of charge. Just for fun?! (It’s not figuratively speaking, there are about a million of them in here.)

You are perplexed exactly until the moment it starts to rain. I mean, before that you thought you’d seen all kinds of rain, the one in Thailand one during the rainy season, in Venezuela, in Florida… oh well.

Fuck no!

It turns out, all that was just drizzling. It is even weirder to imagine the look of the city with two hundred hundred-meter tall towers while watching the two remaining ones.

In short, I am trying to say that after experiencing such a city, you are completely ready for a weird restaurant.

And you get it.

So, we found ourselves in another three-storied Gothic coffin with high, uncomfortable white, usual Gothic arches. There was unpleasant light, unpleasant furniture, and even more unpleasant waiters in white elbow length gloves and with pathos on their ugly faces. We were ready to get out. But “alright” I thought, “let’s sit down”.

We ordered and waited tensely. Well, we thought — the center, touristy, dal 1919 — bullshit is guaranteed, god damn this concierge from the hotel.

They brought us some unintelligible sausages/cheeses/olives.

Our fears were coming true.

What happened next was a humiliation show. They probably act it out for all tourists, while grinning (the waiter himself advised what to order, aha).

In the end, we ordered the dumbest classics: lasagna bolognese, again cotoletta bolognese (cordon bleu™), and pasta with boar ragout – just for a laugh.

But we couldn’t laugh.

It was exactly that lasagna that was the first shot: for some reason it was a huge cake under green sauce, and from above a dude did a little “whack-whack” with a grater on a head of parmesan. The plate was covered with a cheese cloud, which having settled, still remained “hanging” some 15 centimeters above the surface of lasagna.

The word “delicious” doesn’t even start do describe it. We had our eyes bugging out. But it is wasn’t the end.

The very same cordon bleu™ was served out of the blue. There was a thin layer of meat on bone in a crunchy deep fry. The side dish was the thinnest straws of fried zucchini.

Use your imagination: you take a fork and, having carried it through all the «patty», you divide it so that at the same time the layers of cheese/meat/dough don’t mix up as if it is cut with a laser. In exactly the same way, without losing its texture, it spreads in the mouth. Damn, this is a fucking ordeal.

A fucking patty! In a fryer!!!

Then there was a crazy pasta, but I can barely remember it after all.

So, this is what has later mutated into the ready-to-eat products for the microwave. It’s actually impossible to recognize its descendants in the original stuff, which are everywhere nowdays in cardboard packs. Just like you can’t recognize the Pharaoh ancestors in present-day Egyptians.

All told, if you are in Bologna — stop by, it is a true experience!