What do you do when you take one of your favorite people to one of your favorite places in the world? What do you do when you’re taking them to a place that maybe isn’t overwhelming for its sites, but moreso for it’s foods.
Maybe the biggest draw for me is the atmosphere of this place. Bologna is a city that attracts some visitors, but not nearly as many as some her neighbors. Consequently she has not lost herself as being Italian at her core.
P noticed this, pointing out “you hear a lot of Italian being spoken here.” This is something about which I’ve been dismayed in other places. Florence comes to mind. But even in Cortina d’Ampezzo, which we just left, the central city seems primarily to be a place for visitors.
This is not the case in Bologna.
So I walked P up via Zamboni, along the colonnaded streets and through the University district. We continued out to the ring road that circles the oldest part of the city and then crossed back toward the train station and past a flea market.
I could live here, in this place, and P can sense it.
We visit the wedding cake park Parco della Montagnola, with its luxurious shade and marble stairs.
And then we returned to via dell’Indipendenza, where we stopped briefly for some shopping before finally heading to the Archiginasio and the old anatomic theatre, where once upon a time the professors from the university performed public dissections.
I insisted we go to the Tamburini lunch counter for lunch, only to find that they have converted to table service, likely out of necessity. The pork, which I’ve always loved there, was sold out. Instead I “settled” for tortellini. It was a great meal.
This is how our day went, wandering the city, exploring her neighborhoods, and partaking of her foods.
After lunch, we journeyed into the southwestern parts of town, which seem to be the most residential (at least within the old city). I’d never been there before but P wanted me to look at an apartment. I didn’t actually speak to a realtor and just looked up at it from street level, but I could tell it wasn’t for me.
All wasn’t lost with this excursion, however, as we helped ourselves to more excellent gelato.
Late into the afternoon we kept walking and shopping and exploring the sights, including Santo Stefano, where a beautiful flower market had sprung up.
As dusk approached we found ourselves seated at a table in Piazza Maggiore, sipping at Aperol Spritzs and talking over our trip.
While we spoke the sun dipped behind the neighboring buildings, its fiery light painting the clouds to the west in fierce shades of pink. On the mortal plane below, the archways in the surrounding buildings began to glow, heralding the oncoming night.
And the evening was about as perfect as it could have been.
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