Street near festa outside Bologna
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Bologna • Hold the Mayo
Queen of Italian folklore music One rainy Sunday, I took the Eurostar to visit my American cousin in Bologna. He, his Italian wife and bilingual 5-year-old daughter picked me up at the station.

Destination -- Magazzeno -- where the town was having its yearly festa.

La Regina of Italian Folklore Music
The trip to Bologna came on my second weekend. My cousin Paul lives there with his Italian wife Laura and their adorable child Alessandra. I met them when I lived in Italy in 2001. Paul was the one I called for help when I got lost looking for my grandfather's ancestral home in Calabria. The little girl speaks both Italian and English. At one point in the visit, she sang “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” in pristine English -- with a lilting Italian accent around the edges. It was angelic.

We were going to spend our day together in un piccolo paese -- a small town, called Magazzeno. In Italy, when you enter a town, you see a sign with the town's name on it. When you depart, you see the same sign with a red slanted line -- the universal “NO” sign. In Magazenno, those signs were one block within one another. Or, as some of my Italian friends joked, there should have been just one sign -- with both benvenuti and arrivederci on it.

We were there to attend the town's annual gathering -- la festa. It was a celebration for the sake of a celebration. It was a piece of Italiana -- a party for all ages in this town of -- well I don't really know the official population of Magazzeno -- but I suspect everyone who lived there was at the festa -- so let's say three hundred. They all came to the town's only piazza to play together. There was something for everyone. Rubber trampolines for the little ones -- many of whom were in costumes. The teenagers were running around spraying each other with something that looked like shaving cream mixed with meringue. The moms and dads were carrying their kids on their shoulders, leading them to the portable rubber amusement park. All under the watchful eye of the town nonni -- grandparents.

The entertainment was Romana Sandri, singing in front of a giant marquee emblazoned with her name and byline Regina del Folklore Italiano. Her Wayne Newtonesque performance was received by a few tapping toes, a couple of singalong voices and the censurious eye of the folks in the chairs. The Elders.

The food was of the region, featuring a parchment-like savory pastry that was fried like a crepe in a large flat pan. Cooked by two men with asbestos fingers who folded the papery snack into a triangle. A young girl wrapped it in paper and handed it to the customers.

I was completely charmed by this festa. When I asked one of the residents the reason for the party, she launched into a 2-minute-long description. In Italian, of course. I muttered “si si si” a lot -- but I think basically she was saying. “Because we can.”

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