The Bologna Special

I'm sitting in my kitchen eating zucchini (just zucchini) out of a bowl disproportionally large to its contents, and drinking ice tea out of a wine glass.  Somehow in my mind this makes sense for a Monday night. Thinking back to the strange weekend I just had....  Somewhere down the line it probably did.  Lets start off with Saturday morning, I wish I could say I was bright eyed and bushy tailed, ready to take on the day.  In reality, I was having an epic battle within myself as to which idea sounded better: staying in my plush down bed all morning with a cup of tea and not a care in the world? Or would I make the great trek out to Bologna like I had been planning all week.  I am ashamed to say the bed came so close to winning.  Closer than I would like to admit.  So with great regret, and mild disgruntlement I made my way to the train station at 7am with what was promising to be an interesting day.



When I left the train station I immediately realized I had underestimated the size of Bologna.  I had expected it to be this "medium sized but manageable" Tuscan town like Pisa,  but it was more like Rome "huge and crazy".
I turned right back around into the train station and bought the first map I could find.  Mistake numero uno.

Once outside again, I opened said map only to realize it was about 4 feet wide.  The map included not only Bologna but also the surrounding area, the streets were not all labeled and all in all it was absolutely useless.  I folded it awkwardly until only the historic city center was showing and used that as my guide.  Mistake numero due.
As I started walking towards, what I could only assume was the Church of San Pietro I started to notice an increasing amount of graffiti.  The streets also seemed more deserted than what one would assume a main street in Bologna would be.  I looked at my map again, yes I was on the right street.  Maybe if I jut kept walking I would go past this area and find the nice part of Bologna I had hear stories of....  I passed one man sleeping on the ground.....  Then another...  Then a group.   A man my age turned the corner and followed me for a few blocks.  I took my head phones out.  I kept walking, only....  The scenery was not improving...  In fact I would say it was getting worse.


I quickened my pace, trying to ignore my pounding heart and clutching my backpack...  Its 10 am, nothing bad ever happens at 10 am.  That's one of the best parts of the day!  I finally reach a cross street that my map (tucked between my backpack and me so as not to shout to anyone looking I was a tourist) had labeled.  Great.  I was holding my map upside down.  I had been walking in the opposite direction I thought I was going in for an hour.   After a quick scan I found on my map a off-shooting street that would take me to another main street which would lead me to one of the places I wanted to see.... And you know... Other people...  Which is good.
I went to the cross street.  Mistake numero tres.

San Pietro

As I walked down the dingy alley, I did not notice the man laying on what I can only assume was a mattress in a past life.  I did not notice the large bottle of wine oh so cleverly disguised by a brown paper bag.  Which thinking back seemed strange as drinking in public is allowed here.  But I digress.  I was jumped about 300 feet (legit) when I heard a voice shout out to me "Ragazza!" and then a string of sentences I would prefer not to write much less ever repeat.  I took one look at him and bolted.  The first place I could find I dove inside, which turned out to be a church although at the time I was just glad to find a door and see people.

From the outside it was nothing much, but the inside was nice with golden trim and old nonnas praying in the back.  I have to say, I was not in the best shape to appreciate the church, and to be honest I don't event remember its name.  I will just remember it as the place that gave me shelter when I needed it most.  I guess that's what church is.

Once I could breathe again and cleared my head, I firmly squared my shoulders slung my backpack over one, and flipped my rings backwards.  It was 10:30 am on a Saturday, if I was going down I was going down swinging.  My bravado and daylight courage was for naught as my backdoor exit provided me with a nice route straight down to San Pietro.

I meandered around half paying attention to the scenery, half lost in daydreaming.  


After I left San Pietro I decided that I was tired of the Tuscan Architecture, the same churches with the same monuments and same views so I took pictures of the graffiti instead.  This proved to be a fantastic idea as I had gotten some great shots from the morning (see: paragraphs 1-6) and there was a LOT of graffiti on the walls.  I might not appreciate the destruction of what was once an obviously beautiful building, but I did appreciate the artistry that went into some of the vandalism.

As I left the church the Milan Food expo was town!  This meant... Drumroll please..............  Free lunch!  All I had to do was wait in line for a half an hour and I got a free lunch.  I ended up starting a conversation with a Professor from Bologna University which was very interesting.  I thought his perspective on education was fascinating.

After lunch I again set out determinedly wandering about the city. 















I was enamored with some of the images I found hidden around the city some were huge murals some were tiny commentaries on the world.  It was like a treasure hunt with no masters of ceremony or list.  I had to search and find.  If I missed one I will never or would never know.  Perhaps I was a corner away from a masterpiece.  Who knows.

All I do know is that I had a fantastic day seeking out these gems.

The scariest looking mannequins ever 

 I soon stumbled upon another church which peeked my interest.  It was the standard scenery and I respectfully observed the different areas and frescos before I spotted a door.  I don't know why the door caught my eye, or even why I had to go look at it.  But I felt like I was drawn to the door.  I spent a minute or two just sizing it up.  It was like any other door, brown, some brass adornments and a brass handle.  But something about it made me just so curious.  I tried the handle.  The door pulled open like the last person through hadn't closed the door all the way.

Glance left, glance over the right shoulder....  And scoot through.

I wandered around a maze of halls and other new doors (most of which were locked) and wound my way into the center of the church.  I went up stairs, down stairs, around corners, and through passages.  I honestly had no clue where I was and I was so excited to see what I would find.  Eventually the hall ended with one single door at the end.  Taking a deep breath I tried the last door in the hall, knowing if it was locked that the adventure was over and I would have to find my way back.

Success came in pair with a swift grin.  This was it.  I pushed my way into the back of the Sanctuary.  I scoped out the pews but didn't tred in out of respect.  My curiosity satisfied after a few minutes I made my way back.


I can't say that I would ever go back to Bologna, but I can say it was an adventure I would never trade.  So I bring you back to now.   I am still drinking ice tea out of a wine glass musing about where to go to next.  I think I am going to just close my eyes and point my finger at a map and see where it takes me.