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About Bologna

I reckon my fave part’s the vibe—dim lights, oils smellin’ like freedom, somebody kneadin’ ya like dough. Reminds me of Max, all tense, then—boom—“What a lovely day!”—ya feel alive! Last time I got one—don’t tell Laura—I was happier’n a pig in mud. But dang, some places charge an arm and a leg—$200 for an hour? That’s highway robbery, not “highway to hell” like I’d hoped!

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Next, I decide to hit up the beach. It’s called Spiaggia di Cala Fico. Gorgeous spot! I’m chilling, listening to the waves, when I see this group of locals playing beach volleyball. They’re having a blast, and I’m just sitting there, feeling a bit left out. So, I muster up some courage and ask to join.

‘A frenzy of bodies in the chamber of death’: Italian fishers fight to preserve an ancient tradition