The next day, after taking a short walk about the town again, we set off for Bologna. The day turned rainy just out of Mantua, but the roads were strangely free of traffic and a pleasure to drive on that day—obviously Sunday being the day to drive in Italy should you want to be unencumbered by fellow travellers—straight and without perturbation.
- sunday morning view of piazza from our hotel room, mantova
P managed to guide us through a variety of turns in the highway and we arrived in Bologna without mishap, although we had made one or two wrong turns needing step retracement. Using the city map and some extra directions provided us by Professor M, we found our way through Bologna’s labyrinth of intricate series of one way streets and weirdly angled corners to the door of the university college hostel where we were to stay.
- the street and entrance to our dormitory in bologna
Bologna is a great place, visually stimulating, an architectural wonderland of the centuries old order. The almost endless colonnaded porticos speak of hot summers shaded against the sun, and rainy winters where pedestrians may find refuge as they go about their business. And go about business the Bolognese do, along narrow one-way cobbled streets, which twist and turn this way and that, leading to this piazza and that city gateway in no particular systematic way.
A number of the hundreds of towers that Bologna used to have are still standing, although one of the oldest brick-built towers in the Piazza di Porta Ravenagna is now leaning perilously and has been surrounded by scaffolding whose job it is to reassure the citizens that repairs are underway. The walls of the city’s buildings are smooth-stuccoed over their small brick and mortar or stone construction, and these walls are coloured in the warm hues of the sun—deep rich orange-reds, ochres, yellows and browns. Floors of the walkways under the porticos are regularly re-terrazzoed, and oh for a floor like those I see in the streets of Bologna. Every block seems to have a slightly different pattern and colour, using red concrete material containing contrasting coloured marble chips, each block having a different set of size and shape configuration. Some blocks have patterns of squares within squares where the background and marble or stone chip pattern contrasts. And, at the edge, a small rectangle spells out in small marble chips, the year in which the path was last recovered in this way.
- one piece of bologna pavement
The porticos are generally two stories high, and held aloft by round Romanesque or square columns, heavy, simple and reassuring in their weight and repetition. Many of the ceilings of these porticos are vaulted, others flat and decorated or coffered. Most of the buildings are four storeys high, with each succeeding floor marked by a row of windows perfectly proportioned, and a sculptured or bricked line underneath them indicating the actual placement of the floor. Above the windows, depending on style or period, there are cement, brick or stone pedimentia, rounded, or Greco-Romanly square. Each building sits comfortably next to each other, reflecting a pattern, varying the theme. Deep, overhanging eaves feature at the top of most buildings, and occasionally sculptural elements are allowed to decorate the doorways, window frames, and tops of columns.
- sculptural element on wall of bologna building
Food is our main interest it seems, and one of my many ambitions has always been to be a restaurant reviewer or food critic. In fact, I am good at criticism of all sorts, and in the matter of what I put into my mouth, the ability becomes if not more finely honed, than at least extremely personally involved. On our first night in Bologna, a Sunday, we walked to a very busy café in the centre of town, where we managed to order OK and received part of our meal, but an hour and a half later, we gave up waiting for the pasta – something I was eager to consume after a day of exhaustipating driving.
Instead, we went out later to search for the nearest restaurant on a Sunday evening open—and struck it lucky when we entered Ristorante Cesarina, serving ‘typical Bolognese cooking since 1908’. At first we wondered whether the restaurant was empty due to its not being open, or its poor reputation—but no, we were the first customers only because we had arrived just after 6pm, a little early for the Italians. It soon filled up with English speakers as well as Italian, and we were attended by at least three different waiters, all very helpful and cheerful. The food was nice too – although I admit not remembering what it was. Except that the glass of wine I had was rather good.
The subsequent days passed in restaurant attendance, or, for me they were marked by the restaurants we went to. In fact, each day we made some sort of presentation to some part of the university scholarly community. The first day, an introduction to Appraisal by P. The second day, I did not attend P’s presentation on Attitude in newspaper photography which I had heard previously anyway, needing to finish my own analysis preparation for following day, but afterwards, some of the attendees accompanied us to lunch, having travelled from afar on the train.
The lunch was not so good, I have to report, but that is all I should say—but no, my little pasta ears were doughy and the broccoli had almost gone to mush… however, the evening previously we had supped too well at the restaurant across the street from our digs. This was the Drogheria Della Rosa where the chef kindly came to speak the order to us—being the only one who could speak English. I ended up trying the fillet steak with balsamic even though, or because, I hardly ever eat any meat. It had been shown a hot grill, but was so thick that its centre was still raw. So soft and tender, however, I managed to eat quite a bit before feeling too full to do it justice. Back in our room later, I looked up the restaurant on the internet, as they had provided us with their card [www.drogheriadellarosa.it]. It seems that several famous people had also dined there, and P thereafter took to calling it Noam Chomsky’s.
And, where in other places we had been astounded by collections of cheese, olive oil, or salmon, here in bologna, there was a distinct interest in ham…
- a ham and sausage-filled shop, bologna
