FemCamp

Early yesterday morning, I left the drizzle of Milan and headed toward sunny Bologna for a conference called FemCamp. The scope of FemCamp was not well-defined but the idea was for bloggers and like-minded women in technology and new media to come together and share ideas for a day. OK, sounded like many of the events I attended in the late 1990s in New York during the Internet boom so I was excited to see how something like that would play out in Italy. FemCamp was held in a women’s technology laboratory in the center of Bologna.

Upon entering the courtyard, my first thought was “Whoa, sausage party!” (OK, I know it’s vulgar and sounds very 1990s frat house but it’s the first thing to came to mind; though maybe seeing as though we were in Bologna I could have classified it a “mortadella” party). The point is: what were all of these men doing at a chick event? Don’t get me wrong. I like men. I hadn’t expected to burn my bra in the courtyard with fellow women while howling skyward or anything. But I think that any man who shows up to an event like that should have a good reason, such as wanting to hire, promote or support women in some – even the most tenuous - way. In the end, I did talk to some interesting men and exchange cards but I also ran into a few egocentric dorks just there to promote their own blogs. And one man described his talk as “I’m going to share my expertise with the little ladies…” Uh, no thanks, buddy. There were plenty of highly qualified women there and no need for men “experts.” Had that guy tried to pull something like that at American women’s conference, he would have been tied to a stake, doused in the free white wine on offer and thrown in the bra-burning bonfire without a second thought.

The first talk I walked into was given by a gracious white-haired lady in pearls. I only caught the end of what she was saying, so I’m not sure what the topic was. I turned to Sara (who has become quite famous for her participation at these nascent women-in-technology events - she was featured in both Italian Glamour and Grazia this month) and said “Yep, we are in Italy. An abundance of men and old people as authority figures.” Maybe that was too harsh. That little old lady could have just as easily been in her kitchen making tortellini for the grandkids, so I give her props for taking an interest in technology. But – as Sara pointed out- where were the young people and enthusiastic college students there to update us on the most cutting-edge developments? As the day progressed, we spent more time out in the sunny courtyard, enjoying the free food, libations and biscotti. The organizers were professional and very sweet, and it was a free event so overall I really can’t complain.

I would have liked to stay for Deirdre's talk but I was still a bit weak from having been sick during the week, so I took an earlier train than the rest of the group going back to Milan. I took one quick look at the main piazza of Bologna and saw some gorgeous handmade pumpkin tortelloni I wanted to buy in the window of a gastronomia. Honestly, they were works of art. But it was closed for afternoon siesta and I had to get the bus to the train station. I’ve been to Bologna several times and I really like it, but this time the city seemed even more overrun with panhandlers and those punkabbestia kids. I was accosted aggressively at the train station by four or five different people just “needing money for a train ticket home.” One woman wanted to give me cash if she could just take my credit card and use it in the automatic machine. She’d bring it right back. Yeah, right, lady! I held my bags New-York-City style and snapped into don’t-F-with-me-late-night-walking-through-Brooklyn-alone mode and began giving it back with the same aggressiveness. Cristiano always mocks me when I say I’m getting into “Brooklyn” mode but better not chance it – this little Midwestern-born blonde can get tough!