Bologna is probably my favorite place in Italy. So when P and I were planning this trip and she stated she would be departing a day before me, I immediately said “I’ll probably go to Bologna for a great meal,” to which she replied “I want to go to Bologna for a great meal!”
And so we decided to leave the Dolomites earlier than planned in search of food. Lorena, who had driven us to Cortina d’Ampezzo, picked us up at our hotel and drove us back down from the mountains to Venezia Mestre, the closest train station that makes sense for this leg of the trip.
Along the way she told stories of the region, the terrible windstorms that hit in 2018 (I think), and the changes in weather she is seeing.
She pointed out the stands of dying spruce, which were weakened by the storm and are now being killed by a bark beetle.
The drive continued on, lasting just over 2 hours, during which P slept for some time. In due course, we arrived at Venezia Mestre, which has long served mainland Venice (not the island) and Lorena deposited us with instructions to “be careful.”
People keep telling me to “be careful” in Italy, and I’ve almost always been fine.
We bought tickets for the high speed train, and must have taken two of the last seats, because we weren’t seated together and the luggage bins were almost completely full.
Just over an hour later we disembarked at Bologna Centrale, which was once a relatively small and out of date station when I first started coming here, but now is much more modern. We climbed to street level, far below which the tracks have been buried, and P called an Uber. It was almost 2 pm when we left our hotel and headed out into the streets of Bologna in search of food.
The alleys we followed were quiet in the mid afternoon, with an occasional burst of graffiti on a wall or doorway. Somewhere in my mind I was nervous that P may not like this place as much as I would.
But we were here and there was going back so I led the way to lunch at Osteria dell’Orsa, an infamous restaurant near the University. It’s known for the high quality of its food and the low price. She was absolutely blown away by her lasagna, and I was enraptured by my tagliatelle alla bolognese.
We spent the remainder of the day mostly wandering the town, as I did my best to show it off.
We saw the University neighborhood, where a new graduate celebrated with her family, wearing her honorific laurel wreath and an inflatable unicorn costume.
We walked past the Due Torri, near the Merchant’s Guild and the Quadrilatero, the ancient core streets of the city where vendors still hawk their wares.
Here, there are piles of cheese and crates upon crates of fresh fruits and vegetables in unreal, vibrant hues.
We both wanted gelato, which we hadn’t had yet during this trip, and we found it not far away. The gelateria was one of the highest rated in town, and the line stretched well beyond the threshold. Still, the wait was well worth it.
We walked all the way to the western most gate of the old walls, as we were passing time while awaiting dinner. But when dinnertime came, neither of us was truly hungry, at least not for a full meal.
So instead we continued back to the center of town and the Quadrilatero, where some of the vendors have opened wine bars that feature the local charcuterie.
And long after sunset we sat at on our stools, sating our scant hunger with all sorts of delectable meats and cheeses.
And all was right in Bologna.
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