My train pulled into the Bologna Centrale station shortly before 2 pm.
I have three days in Italy and was well behind schedule; when time is short every hour counts. My flight was delayed leaving Newark due to nose cone damage, and my mind raced. Then the Leonardo Express train from the airport to Roma Termini station was delayed by something on the tracks and I fidgeted nervously.
I had planned to get to Bologna before noon and have lunch. Although midday had long since past, and these delays might have changed my schedule, I was determined that they would not alter my fundamental plan.
I checked into my hotel where the concierge insisted on telling me about the television. I was in a hurry so brushed him off, pointing out that I would never turn it on.
He still told me that they have satellite with channels from around the globe.
As much as I needed a shower, I needed food more, having eaten my last real meal on the plane 6 hours ago, followed by a sfogliatella pastry in the train station. So I rushed out in pursuit of my single-minded mission for this journey. You see, with three days, this is a trip about familiarity, and I intend to make the most of them. I plan to eat all the food.
My coach is more than OK with this. I’ve been working with him for a month now and he has already come to the realization that when left to my own devices, I restrict calories. I have therefore received clear instructions to try not to run a deficit this week.
Mission accepted!
I started at an old friend, Osteria dell’Orsa, a popular restaurant near the University specializing in traditional homemade food served at rustic tables.
The bowl of warm broth and tortellini (tortellini in brodo) did wonders for my spirit, warming my belly and combatting the late afternoon chill.
Once I had eaten, my urgency eased, like a long-needed sigh. After lunch, I savored a gelato and wandered to the two towers, the due Torri, monolithic symbols that stand askew in the center of town, while scooters buzz past and busses rumble by.
And I greeted the markets of the quadrilatero, where the windows are bedecked with Christmas pastries and ever-present pastas of infinite variety.
As evening transitioned into night, the city lit up for the Christmas season, with lights dangling and shimmering across the narrow streets throughout the town.
And they even lit the Asinelli Tower in cycling shades of silver and red.
I don’t have a lot new to see here, dear readers, but that’s ok because Bologna is an old friend at this point. This is a place were presence is more than enough.
I’m happy to sit in a cafe nursing a drink.
Or to just meander through her byways as her energies suffuse my spirit.
Or to go to my favorite restaurant in town, da Bertino e Figli, where the trolley of mixed boiled meats, bollito misto, is back on the menu for the season.
After dinner, my walk back to the hotel took me past Piazza Maggiore, the grand piazza in the center of town where revelers throng in warmer months. But tonight, on a brisk night in early December, the square was quiet except for one lone musician strumming a guitar and singing. Nearby a handful people huddled on the square, listening in.
From high above in the East, I found the grand constellation of Orion looking down through the crystalline Italian sky.
And all was right in my world.
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