Story by Carol Canter.
Photo credit: Bologna Welcome (BW) or by author, as noted.
Feature image: A fine view of Bologna is enjoyed from the 318-foot height of the Asinelli Tower. (Photo: C. Canter).
When the setting sun bathes the brick facades of its many palazzi in a warm rosy glow, Bologna’s magic begins to take hold. Soon it will be the hour of the aperitivo, when lavish antipasti are served with drinks, and some of the city’s 800,000 people, including 90,000 students, toast the onset of another Bologna night. It’s the hour when the vibrant pace of life slows, and the pleasures for which Bologna is renowned take over: good food, camaraderie, and intellectual and political discourse, often over a glass of the local prosecco. By 8:30 or 9 pm, the restaurants will start to fill, while patrons of the arts will head to the theater, opera or symphony.
To Bologna’s three well-earned nicknames, la Grassa — the Fat, for its rich culinary tradition, la Dotta — the Learned, for the establishment of Europe’s first university in 1088, and la Rossa,– the Red, for both the color of its bricks and the tilt of its politics, I add my own: Bologna the Unexpected. For in all the buzz about Italy’s top tourism sites, Bologna is left out.
The first surprise is discovering a city that is so well-planned, so geared to the needs of its citizens, not to mention visitors, that to explore on foot is a delight for all the senses. In fact, with one of the best-preserved medieval centers in Europe, quarters with car-free streets, and porticoes that shelter the pedestrian from the vagaries of weather, one can walk to most places of interest. And that’s a boon to a city known for the best cuisine in all of Italy. The second surprise, in spite of this culinary reputation, is just how velvety and delicate the tortellini here really is. And how even a sensible, well-balanced person might find herself obsessed by the memory of such a dish, and on a quest to recreate it. And finally, the Bologna that’s hidden is a revelation — for behind the walls and beneath the streets of this very old city are gardens, canals, and even a vault with secret acoustics.
Capital of the fertile agricultural region of Emilia Romagna, and a compulsory point of passage between the northern and southern regions of Italy, Bologna has historically been an important crossroads, and remains Italy’s road and rail hub today. Located in North Central Italy, midway between Florence and Venice, the city is often discovered by travelers as a convenient stopover point. Many return, whether to study Italian, attend cooking school, or simply to enjoy life in an intellectual and cultural capital that buzzes with youthful energy and an open-minded outlook on life.
The place to begin any visit is the Neptune Fountain, a symbol of the city and meeting place par excellence for a Bologna rendezvous. Countless photos are framed every day in front of the giant bronze sculpture of a sea god. Sculpted in 1563 by the Flemish Jean de Boulogne (better known as Giambologna), the statue is said to represent the symbol of papal power: as Neptune rules over the seas, so the Pope dominates the land. Bologna was second only to Rome as a Papal State for more than 300 years. The fountain adjoins Piazza Maggiore, the city’s central square and historic heart, encircled with impressive civic monuments. Dramatically lit, the piazza becomes a stage set, with nightly cultural events in summer, from film showings to concerts to performance art. Culture has been considerably refined since the public executions that once took place here, when prisoners were hanged from the Palazzo del Podesta (Palace of the Chief Magistrate). Today the Palazzo houses the far more benign Bologna Tourism Office, as well as outdoor cafes offering front-row seats on the pulse of the square. With or without food fairs or political demonstrations, Piazza Maggiore is the best place to mix with a cross-section of Bologna, and to feel part of the community. Wander the large square, and visit some of the surrounding buildings. Take a look inside the former Stock Exchange, the Sala Borsa, whose striking art nouveau interior houses Biblioteca Salaborsa, the city’s municipal multimedia library.
And, thanks to recent archaeological excavation, you can literally view three layers of Bologna’s history — Roman, Medieval and Renaissance — suspended in time and space beneath a square section of crystal floor. You won’t see Bologna’s beginnings as an Etruscan town known as Velzna (later “Felsina” in Latin), or its settlement by the Celts (known as Gauls by the Romans), but, if this is your passion, you can unearth more of the past at the Museo Civico Archeologico.
Outside the library, a heart-wrenching shrine brings far more recent history into view, with photographs honoring the partisans killed fighting fascism during the second world war, and victims of the 1980 right-wing terrorist attack at the train station.
The Basilica of San Petronio, named for the city’s patron saint, dominates the piazza with an imposing, if unfinished, facade. The cornerstone was laid by the Commune in 1390 to celebrate the regaining of the city’s freedom. Less than 200 years later, Church authorities halted construction, for fear that it would overtake St. Peter’s in Rome. The Basilica nevertheless remains one of the largest religious buildings in Christendom, and is well worth a visit.
Make your way up the entrance stairs that provide respite for weary students and visitors, and enter through doors with carvings from the Old and New Testaments by Sienese artist Jacopo della Quercia, who influenced a young Michelangelo. The enormous, airy interior has 22 chapels with works of art from the schools of Bologna, Ferrara and Siena, precious stained glass windows, and one of the oldest organs in Italy. Of particular astronomical significance is the meridian line set into the floor of the left nave. With the light streaming down from an opening 90 feet above, this sun calendar proved more accurate than any telescope of its day. The current configuration, created by astronomer Giandomenico Cassini in 1655, led to substantial scientific advances and secured Cassini’s fame as an astronomer.
Under the vaulted portico near the Basilica, a lone accordionist plays mournful tunes that resonate along the elegant shops lining the passageway. The music stopped me in my tracks, even as shoppers and students hurried by, and led me to ponder the portico and how it defines Bologna.
The gastronomic shops along Via Clavature (Lock Street) and Via Pescherie Vecchie (Old Fishmongers’ Street) display the fresh produce, pasta, seafood, cured hams and cheeses for which the region is renowned. These medieval pedestrian alleys remain the two most important market streets. While you might be startled by the pig’s head hanging in front of some shops, stroll with your senses fully open and sample slices of the Parma ham or mortadella famous throughout the world, along with the parmigiano reggiano cheeses that are displayed in astounding 60-pound rounds.
Shop for panini or pizza for a picnic, but save your appetite for at least one daily meal that will make you redefine Italian food. After trying Trattoria Anna Maria on our first night in Bologna, when our hotelier directed us there on a rainy evening, we couldn’t stop dreaming about the melt-in-your-mouth pasta: gnocchi with gorgonzola and pine nuts, tortelloni with butter and sage. At 10 pm, the place was packed, lively, and welcoming. We soon felt so at home that we returned for three more meals during our stay. Everyone seemed to be smiling and laughing, even in the kitchen. Photographs of loyal celebrity diners cover every inch of wall space. The food is so good, yet so simple and unpretentious, that we actually were inspired to preview a cooking school in Bologna.
“It’s the eggs that make the difference, said Alessandra Spisni, founder of La Vecchia Scuola, the cooking school my husband and I attended one afternoon. “The farther you get from Bologna, the more water is used, rather than eggs, to mix with the flour.” Rolling out the dough to the perfect consistency, she cut diverse shapes, and we finally began to understand not only the differences between garganelli, papardelle, and tagliatelle, and to tell tortellini from tortelloni, but between pasta handmade with love and the kind we’d been buying at home.
The next day we entered a tiny shop, a block from Trattoria Anna Maria, to watch Alessandra’s brother, Alessandro, make tortelloni for the restaurant. Assisted by three women, he filled the pasta with ricotta, parsley and nutmeg, then rolled it into a shape allegedly inspired by Venus’ belly button. Alessandro said, “lavoro, troppo lavoro,” (work, too much work), but with a smile and a hearty laugh, letting us know that he was doing what he loves. While we were there, a mortadella/prosciutto merchant stopped by to discuss an order.
On the way back to our hotel from Anna Maria’s, we stopped to look through another window on the past, this one a glimpse of Bologna’s waterways. At one time, Bologna’s rivers and streams were harnessed through an almost perfect system of canals, locks and sinkholes. Merchant vessels were able to travel in and out of the city on these waterways, and the water powered its mills and machines that included the famous automated looms for the Bolognese-style weaving of silk. While most of the remaining canals that weren’t drained now flow under the city’s streets, there are places in which a glance in the right direction will reveal the unexpected, the watery tendrils of a time past.
I had learned this and much more about Bologna from reading the novel The Fall of a Sparrow by Robert Hellenga. The protagonist, an American, is discovering the city through the eyes of his lover, a native: “On Via Piella, a little street not far from the center — a perfectly ordinary Bolognese street with bars and an osteria, a cartoleria, portici — they leaned their bicycles against the wall near an opening covered by a wooden shutter.
‘Open it,’ she said.
Woody opened the shutter. He couldn’t believe his eyes. It was as if he’d opened a window onto Venice. Small boats floated in a narrow canal. Washing flapped on lines strung over the water. The surface of the canal reflected the houses and the sky and the shirts on the clothesline. Woody closed the window and looked around him. He was back in Bologna. He opened it again, and he was in Venice.”
Such surprising juxtapositions continue to catch the visitor off guard and enhance exploration in a city that seamlessly weaves the medieval and modern.
One night, we were finishing a light dinner of pasta i fagioli (a thick tasty pasta and bean soup) with a salad at Cantina Bentivoglio, a noted enoteca (wine bar), restaurant and jazz club in the neighborhood known as “Piccola Pigalle” (little Pigalle), where the density of bars, clubs and eateries is Bologna’s answer to the famed Parisian quarter. We asked our waiter about the performers in the jazz club downstairs. An excellent quartet, he replied, featuring one of Italy’s top drummers. So we grabbed our bottle of the local house red, and entered the hip, smoky cellar. Posters of featured artists such as Kenny Barron, Cedar Walton, and other headliners showed we had stumbled into a world-class venue. A young Viennese drummer and his girlfriend from Sardinia sat beside us. They had met studying economics at the University of Bologna, and filled us in on the local jazz scene, even introducing us to an old-time Italian jazz violinist who had played with Duke Ellington. We also met Giovanni Serrazanetti, the club owner, who had lived some years in our hometown of Oakland. He invited us to the opening later that week of his new blues club, just one more indication of the energizing pulse of Bologna, and the serendipity of a visit.
IF YOU GO: Visit Bologna Turismo at https://www.bolognawelcome.
The print version of this story was published in Odyssey, Magazine of the Chevron Travel Club.
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