Charles sat at the table next to mine at lunch yesterday. He is from Yellowknife in Western Canada and he is traveling alone. This is his second trip to Italy, and he will be here for a month and a half. Yesterday, he arrived in Bologna, having taken the bus from Bari.
He took the bus rather than the train, he explained, because trains in Italy are unreliable (nb: trains in Italy are generally quite reliable). He further informed me that after lunch he was planning to go to GROM for gelato because at least it isn’t a chain (nb: GROM produces high quality gelato, but is owned by Unilever and is most definitely a chain).
I wanted to eat my meal in peace but he would have none of it.
He peppered me again and again with questions, with scarcely a pause between. Not only did he want to know what I had ordered, but he wanted to know why. Why had I chosen this restaurant in the first place? How did I find it? Where else have I been? This was his second day in Bologna and he had decided there was nothing else to see here.
I answered politely, but the conversation was frustrating, as each response led to more questions or inaccurate assumptions that he had reached. I had to correct him repeatedly. At one point I was compelled to explain, very explicitly, that my flight had arrived in Rome just a few hours earlier. The notion was inconceivable to him.
I was jet-lagged, tired, and hungry. I wanted to eat. I was not ready to engage in deep dialogue.
He showed me a massive list of places he wants to visit during the six weeks he will be here. I glanced at it only briefly, concluding quickly that the list was nonsensical. It included Rimini on the Adriatic Coast (a beach town in December – which not everybody is cut out for) but excluded Modena. The places it lists are scattershot across the peninsula and there is not enough time for anything.
As we spoke he repeatedly asked me to spell things for him so he could enter them into his phone, each time getting the spelling grotesquely wrong on the first try and demanding more of my attention as he tried to fix it.
Then he was offended when I didn’t quickly write down his lunch recommendation, a decision I had to justify by pointing out my severely limited time here and my preexisting plans for my four main meals.
He wouldn’t leave me alone. He kept talking and my tortellini were getting cold.
When he asked me to spell “Mantova” for him, I finally refused. I was done with this game, but I had more to say (politely).
“No,” I said, “You don’t need to write it down – you have too much on your list already and I have no intention of making it worse. You need to edit. Do less.
“If I can give you one piece of advice, it’s to slow down. This isn’t a scavenger hunt and there isn’t a prize for seeing the most things and places. Just explore. Take some time to sit at a cafe. Feel the rhythm of the city around you. This is a real place – not every place is. Enjoy yourself.”
I thought about that conversation as I explored the city today. I might have been a touch harsh, but it was also impolite of him to not acknowledge my meal and permit me to eat.
In any case the advice I gave was fair. I provided him with the wisdom I needed 15 years ago when I started solo traveling (and sometimes still need).
I thought about his declaration that he had seen everything here, and I acknowledged that I, too, have made similar hubristic pronouncements, albeit not usually after a scant two days. Even now, after my many trips to Bologna, I continue to scour websites and guidebooks in order to find what I am missing, and I always seem to find more.
Cities, like all of us, evolve with time. It has been at least 15 years since my first visit to Bologna, and tourism has grown with those years. I can find sites today that were unavailable then, or were just taken for granted and ignored. And some opportunities I took then are no longer available.
Today, for example, I finally visited the Biblioteca Salaborsa. It is the main public library, located in the Palazzo d’Accursio which stands near the Piazza Maggiore, and I have missed it for years. I am fairly certain it wasn’t even listed in the first, printed guidebooks I purchased.
The great central room features a soaring ceiling above and a glass floor below so visitors can gaze down upon ancient excavations that date back to the Etruscan era. Sadly, the surface is quite hazy and there isn’t much to see. One can also enter to see the ruins from the basement level, but access was closed today.
And then there is the Palazzo Boncompagni, an example of Bolognese Renaissance architecture. It was once the home of Cardinal Ugo Boncompagni, whose father built this palace. The cardinal lived here until his ascendancy as Pope Gregory XIII.
I’ve not yet visited this palace because today was the first I’ve ever heard of it (it has apparently grown in importance lately). The Palazzo may only be visited by reserved tour, which is offered only on Friday and Sunday. This will have to wait for another trip, it seems.
Years ago I trudged up the many steps to the top of the Asinelli Tower, a climb that most people can no longer make, as the tower’s lean has increased and they have closed its stairways to the public. But a few doors down from the Palazzo Boncompagni, I found this smaller tower that remains available to explore, again by appointment only.
There are still new things for visitors to find here, but we might miss them if we aren’t willing to slow down a bit.
So what did I do today?
I strolled through the streets of the historic center of Bologna, where the mid December light reflects and refracts in shades of pink and gold.
I shopped for gifts in markets and I ate spectacular meals.
I sipped espresso at a cafe as a woman a table over sobbed gently and blew her nose.
And I found some things to think about for my next visit here.
I reflected, also, on my conversation with Charles and his plans for Rimini. What will he do there? The town will be quiet, most restaurants will be closed, and there will be little to see.
Maybe that’s what he needs. Or maybe he’s not ready for that sort of trip – 15 years ago I don’t think I was.
To the uninformed observer there was truly nothing extraordinary about my day today.
For me, however, the stresses of the wider world were entirely nonexistent.
And that, my friends, is why I booked a three day trip to Italy.
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