Verona is abuzz today with preparations for Carnivale. They are electing Papa Gnoco. The tradition dates back to a famine in the Veneto in 1535. The wealthy citizens fed the starving Veronese with these bite-sized doughy dumplings which were distributed by a functionary who came to be called "Papa Gnoco." Now this job goes to, as P. describes it, "the biggest drunk in Verona." The election party is to be held in front of San Zeno.

L. and I cruise over around 10am with the digital camera. What a scene! There are two candidates for Papa Gnoco, referred to by their respective backers as simply Uno and Due. Bellowing forth from a score of cruddy amps, drunken Italians loudly proclaim "Vota Uno!" or "Vota Doooooo-ay!" These cats are well into the mulled wine long before the noontime bells.

L. and I stick to the food offerings, fresh gnocchi of course, patatine fritte, brioche, and one of those awesome frankfurter sandwiches [*L: no hotdog sandwich for me!]. A live four-piece band, backers of candidate Uno, offers sluggish versions of classic American rock standards and there are no less than three karaoke machines going full blast. Tweakers are everywhere, definately a rougher, more patchwork crowd than one sees in Borgo Trento.

We bump into Rosanna's sister Louisa who attended our welcome to Italy dinner in December with her son Julio, a cute kid of four or five. Julio's father, Charlie, is an ageing musician type who loves Bob Dylan. P. and Rosanna keep telling me we should get together and jam or something. Charlie is ensconced at the headquarters bar of Due just down the road from the raucous piazza of San Zeno. He's a nice cat, looks like David Crosby. Louisa seems to be over whatever the two of them had, they are not even a couple, according to P.. Charlie tells us a story about Dylan's concert at the Verona Arena back in the 80's which he attended. Apparently, the drummer was too drunk to play and Dylan kinda cussed him out onstage. I have read about that show in one of those exhaustive Dylanology books. It was supposed to have been a fiasco, with people leaving early in protest. Poor L., this is not exactly her favorite topic of conversation! Turns out today is Charlie's 54th birthday. He and his posse are off to Piazza Erbe to continue the party. Louisa is none to pleased to be recruited as chauffer but off they go to find her macchina.