Back in Bologna

 

16/17 May

I'd visited Bologna briefly with Kim on our way back from Pesaro a few years back, but was keen to visit again. I arrived late afternoon (my train was a little delayed leaving Verona due to someone being ill on the train) and apart from the fact that the rubber on the two back wheels of my suitcase were shredding (too much dragging over cobbles), it was a straightforward leg. My accommodation in the old town wasn't within walking distance so I got a taxi.

I'd booked a room in a house - wasn't exactly self catering, but I had to let myself in and was able to make my own tea and coffee (at last! a kettle!) and breakfast. The house was well located just off Via Castiglione, so it was only a walk of about 10 minutes from the centre with restaurants and shops close by, and apart from a few minor facility issues the light, airy spacious room couldn't have been more different from the last couple of shoeboxes.

The owner had recommended a local event which was called Peonies in Bloom, so I went along and although it appeared to be free, I kind of panicked and suggested I paid 5 euros when the woman at the entrance asked me (very nicely) if I'd like to make a donation as it was a charity. It was actually a glorified but extremely popular craft and fashion fair in a kind of community garden with peonies thrown in and unfortunately, because I had a credit card on me, I succumbed to a rather expensive upcycled jacket sold to me by another very nice woman whose English completely trumped my awful Italian. Still, whenever I wear it I will have a reminder of my trip, and I might even feel a little bit Italian.

I wandered about a bit, picked up a few supplies, then got changed into my new jacket and ventured out in the hope of finding one of the recommended restaurants on a Saturday night with a table for one. Nope. One was closed for a private event, I was turned away from two without a preternazione, and I walked out of two because having been seated, I was then ignored. So I ended up buying a half bottle of wine, getting (very good) takeaway pizza for 10 euros from the appropriately named O Solo Mio (where I could actually have sat down to eat, but although the welcome was friendly, the fluorescent tube strip lighting was not), and eating it in my room like a saddo. One of the hazards of solo travel, giving me pause for thought (see conclusion of this post)

On Sunday I had booked a Guru walk which started nearby in Piazza Minghetti (an Italian prime minister in the 1870s) - guide Frederick was an enthusiastic and articulate young man whose waistline demonstrated that obviously enjoyed his food. Bologna after all is often slated as the foodie capital of Italy - at least in the north. Though you don't see many obese Italians - how is that possible with all that pasta and pasticceria?! 

The tour was a mix of history and local food info (a lot of food info, in great detail, so I now understand that I need to look for DOP or IGP to distinguish the good stuff). Bologna is quite Medieval in terms of architectural style, and was once, like Venice still is, a city divided up by a canal network (the hooks for tying up boats are still visible on a number of old buildings.) There are still a number of towers which have survived earthquakes and WW2 bombings - built in Medieval times, they served defensively as watchtowers but more importantly as symbols of wealth of the family building them. (Afraid the tower picture isn't the best - lots of views were spoiled by overhead wires running between buildings.) Of course it's also famous for its arcades and colonnades, which offer shelter in all weathers and make it a very pleasant old city to walk around. And Bologna boasts Europe's oldest university, founded in the 1100s. Its geographical location has made it a central focus for communications, commerce and culture.

I visited a brilliant museum which has been created within the Palazzo Pepoli just off Piazza Minghetti. The conversion of this wonderful old building is spectacular, with neon signage, a reproduction (of the main road constructed by the Etruscans (who were pre-Roman - an actual section of the Roman road has actually been reconstructed there too); information, pictures and diagrams were all BIG, easy to read and were featured in walkaround glass displays, so it was all very 3D. All the panel texts were in Italian, but I was able to download a really useful concise audio guide that gave me the gist of what I needed to know. There was an interesting (if slightly spooky) section on puppet theatre too.

I also saw a lovely exhibition of photos of Frida Kahlo there, grouped by the photographer who took them - the famous colour ones we see everywhere on mugs and coasters (and yes I have some!) by Nikolas Murray were there, and I especially liked the soft focus black and white ones of a younger Frida taken by Imogen Cunningham.

As it was a Sunday, the main streets in the old city were pedestrianised - not even trams were running - so the mass of tourists, including lots of Italians ( and dogs on leads - so many dogs of all shapes and sizes), could really enjoy the sunshine. It was a busy day because it was also the day when the tiny mannequin of the Virgin Mary is brought down from the San Luca sanctuary in the hills above the city, an age-old tradition. Unfortunately I wasn't quite sure where or when the procession was happening, so I missed it. The volumes of people also meant that I didn't get a gelato - having searched for one of the recommended places, the queue was so enormous that I decided ruefully I didn't need the extra calories on a trip where pasta and wine have ensured I will be too scared to get on the scales for several weeks once I'm home. 

Being in Bologna, Lasagne Verde is the classic dish so I did have a good one at lunchtime, though the restaurant experience did not start well as I ranted on Facebook - the single woman dining alone thing where they might be good enough to seat you but then ignore you and serve couples before you even once they've deigned to give you a menu - or sometimes not even that! It's always nice to find a restaurant that serves a quatrolitro carafe as well of the vino di casa. Wine is so good even when cheap I've even been having a glass of light stuff at lunchtime most days - that will certainly stop once I'm home!

I did visit the Duomo di San Pietro which is huge (never actually finished as per the plans to be the world's biggest cathedral, as they ran out of money and even the Vatican said no more!). I was wearing a modest sleeveless midaxi dress and was asked to cover my shoulders which were only just visible and I didn't see how they were more offensive than the man wearing shorts exposing several inches above his knobbly knees who bounded in ahead of me, but that's religious hypocrisy for you. 

It's very plain, both outside and in, quite unlike some of the spectacular smaller churches I've seen on this trip, as is San Stefano,  which is one of seven churches all kind of squidged together just off Piazza San Stefano. On this particular day there was a huge antique/flea market going on in that square, which unusually was still in full swing late in the afternoon - though how they expected tourists to be buying full dinner services is puzzling. The fruit stalls in the old fish market were beautifully arranged, but no business was being done there either.

One thing I don't understand is why you can buy all manner of delicious fruit and veg in the shops, but in the restaurants you're lucky to have insalate mista or verde or verdure grigilate as a contorno, to the extent where I often found myself craving veg.

I wandered around quite a bit (though no more retail therapy for me, despite considerable temptation), but after many 1000s of steps and having had a good lunch, I headed back for the apartment for the evening with a braesola sandwich and a half bottle of rosso to pack up for the last time.

I then realised my schoolgirl error of having booked a Milan Linate airport shuttle next day at a time before my train from Bologna actually got in - so in a panic I booked a later one but was too late to cancel the first one. I attempted to book a taxi via reservassist.com (be very wary if you come across this company and aren't using the website in English - I inadvertently signed up for an expensive subscription) as Uber doesn't exist in Bologna and I hadn't seen a taxi rank nearby. I thought I'd succeeded but when it didn't turn up next day (and I made an expensive international phone call for them to tell me that I had cancelled, which I hadn't) a slightly panic-stricken Google maps consultation indicated a bus stop around the corner where the circular route bus would get me to the station in about 20 minutes. I needed to catch that particular train as I had a seat reservation (costing 15 euros)  and wouldn't have been able to get on a later train without one. I was also lucky that the national strike being held didn't affect the Frecciarossa trains. 

Although the bus was worryingly a few minutes late (heart in mouth time - what to do?!) it got me to the station with time to spare and the Milan train was on time. Bologna is a huge station and there are plenty of escalators and lifts to get you effortlessly from one level/binaro to another (shame the same can't be said for getting on the train - more damn steps to haul a suitcase up in a confined space!) 

I had time to kill before the shuttle I'd booked but then realised there were actually gazillions of pay on board shuttles outside Centrale going to both Milan airports, so I spent a further 7 euros to get on a bus 30 minutes earlier as check-in time was getting a bit close and traffic was bad that day due to the train strikes. The flight home was uneventful apart from a fractious baby but thankfully there was at least a spare seat in between, and I was home by 6pm - it had been a long day as I'd set out at 8.30am UK time.

Unpredicatable weather aside, this was a good and most of the time lovely trip, though I did a lot of thinking about how I travel in future. I don't especially like travelling in groups, especially large ones, as I seem to be developing a low tolerance threshold on the "finding people irritating" scale. Travelling solo is fine during the day as it's great to be able to please oneself, but I did feel lonely in the evenings especially as the dinner company on the tour, including Kim, had been convivial (plus the hotel staff were lovely). My poor Italian was a handicap at times, and prevented me from engaging successfully with people. And there's no doubt that the process of frequent moving on, with all the transport machinations and the packing/unpacking, is getting a bit too much for the energy levels I have now compared to my long leave trip back in 2014.

I've a short and simple break in Mallorca and Valencia in October, but I need to decide on some tactical changes before the next big trip - I'll certainly be interrailing again at some point, but maybe with a base city and daily jollies by train. 

But it won't be too long before I return to Italy - Turin in the spring is next on the horizon!

All's well that ends with a Palazzo

 Friday 15/Saturday 16 May

So it wasn't looking great but in the end I had a nice day in Mantua (Mantova in local lingo, like Padua becomes Padova), redeemed by the magnificent Palazzo Ducale which was a quite spectacular end to bimbling about in the cold, grey and wet. 

The hotel ordered me a taxi to the station where there was a lengthy delay on the Mantua train and when a platform was announced, I had to share it with many over-excited school kids off on a day trip - and wherever I went in Mantova, there they were. Or maybe it was a different group. Further chaos ensued when there was a platform change which, owing to the noise of said youth, was communicated by word of mouth and crowd movement rather than a tannoy announcement. Thank goodness for the lifts I've been able to take advantage of on Italian stations where platforms are accessible via basement tunnels like Clapham Junction.

The rain was relentless when I reached Mantua but fortunately the hotel was across the road from the station - not that you could see it, as it was covered in scaffolding, with the reception accessible via a kind of tunnel. The lady on reception was helpful and welcoming and took me to my room - I had seen a photo, but it really was like a cell. The hotel dining room extension backed on to it and its glass roof made the sound of the rain even worse, so rather than dash out and get really wet I caught up on the blog. 

Although I'd chosen accommodation that was close to the station, it wasn't that close to the old town so I had a 15-minute walk. It was lunchtime so I dived into the Miro  caffe opposite the Duomo, which was full so the very handsome proprietor took me in the very tiny lift (cheap thrill) to the upper floor where I sat in splendid isolation under a surprisingly beautiful ceiling and had a very tasty piadina, followed by a trip to their very nasty stand-up loo in the basement (having had to wait for schoolkids using it - the lack of public loos in Italy makes life awkward for everyone).

The Duomo was very beautiful (as was the cathedral which I visited later, see the golden bishops below) with every surface above the dado (sure that's not the right word) was covered in frescoes or trompe l'oeil, with a gorgeous cupola. There was also a little ancient rotunda church

I walked some distance through the back streets to take a look at a restored synagogue I saw on the map, but when I got there it was shut and viewing was by appointment only. A food festival was starting up with tents in the main square, but it didn't appear to be getting going until the next day. I walked past the launch event in the town hall, where there was a plethora of carabinieri (most of them standing around smoking, chatting or scrolling through their phones) on hand - they were obviously expecting big trouble with the local populus without tickets and not on the list expected to gatecrash the foodie party.

I visited the Sonnabend art collection, which was very very modern, with the likes of Koons, Warhol, Rauschenberg, Lichtenstein. Some I liked, much I didn't - I still don't understand why Jeff Koons thought a child's blow-up dolphin swim toy needed to be suspended above a load of shiny saucepans. (The Warhol screen print is of the collecto, Ileana Sonnabend, who spent a great deal of time in the US patronising the arts)

A mid-afternoon gelato (accompanied by the schoolkids) made me understand the difference between artiginale and the common or garden. The latter contains preservative which enables it to be whipped into the attractive peaks you see. The good stuff is under steel lids so you just focus on the flavours - and you can actually notice the difference, really.  

Last port of call before dinner was the Palazzo Ducale. I left it until the kids had disappeared (it was open until 7pm), and almost didn't go at all, but was so glad I did as it was stunning. It contains the main collection of ancient statues, bas-relief sculptures, frescoes and tapestries from medieval to post-Renaissance times in northern Italy, accumulated by the Gonzaga dynasty who ruled the dukedom of Mantua for nearly 400 years, from 1328 until the Austrian empire swallowed it up in the early 18th century. Their wealth (they even minted their own coins for most of that time) must have been enormous, although there must have been a dip in cashflow at some point as part of the collection of Roman busts (see below) was acquired by Charles I of England - though obviously that didn't go too well for him...

The condition of the works was amazing - yes of course there was a nose, arm or breast missing here and there, but the idea that these pieces were so very old and still here was astonishing. I was especially impressed by the 11 Caesars painted on canvas by Titian (I've included the most handsome one below - some of them were chubby mingers I can tell you!), and the 64m long gallery of Roman busts including all your faves like Claudius and Marcus Aurelius, as well as Ignoti and Ignote (unknown men and women). The Roman bust gallery collection was completed in 1600 - as mentioned, Charles I of England acquired some of it but it all came back.

There's also a very fine coin collection over 2000 years, including those minted by the Gorganzas. In the Museo, there were crystals, fossils, shells and paeleontological remains, bones, eggs, stuffed animals and birds, displayed in four rooms known as the Metamorphoses. On to the Ducal apartments with stuccoed ceilings, frescoes and huge portraits. Even the corridors are beautiful. The wealth displayed is incredible, but unlike an English stately home, you won't find any furniture and very few objects, but somehow that didn't matter - my jaw remained dropped for quite a substantial part of my visit.

Settling on a dinner venue was a bit challenging as a lot of restaurants weren't opening until 7.30 which I know isn't that late by Italian standards - but I made a good decision and settled for the Scaravelli ristorante, a brand with a big presence in the town with a bakery and caffe opposite. I had a delicious beef stew macaroni, a chocolate mousse and some nice light Bardolino - and unlike other places in Bologna later in my trip, I was welcomed and served in prompt and friendly fashion...

The following morning, I had time to kill until my train back to Verona and then on to Bologna (be warned if you decide to visit Mantua - there's a big mid-morning gap with trains either way to and from Verona, which is a kind of branch line). I paid a bit extra to have breakfast as there wasn't much round about the area, but had a near-death experience when the sizeable vitamin pill I was trying to take surreptitiously with my juice so as not to draw attention to my slightly embarrassing multiple vitamin/supplement daily routine, got caught in my throat. What's Italian for Heimlich manoeuvre? No juice, swallowing or quiet coughing was dislodging the miscreant, so I hurried back to my room and after much effort and disgusting noises returned to my breakfast and tried to appear as though nothing had happened.

I had decided to visit Palazzo Te, about a 20-minute walk away, set in acres of parkland and one of Mantua's big attractions. Also conceived and built by one of the Gorganza dynasty, after the Palazzo Ducale its scope and ambition was still impressive but somehow not so thrilling. Designed by Guido Romano, it was intended to be a kind of Utopia outside the city walls, a place for hunting, shooting, fishing and general bohemian pursuits. 

Again, lots of freschos, mosaics, lunettes and bas-relief sculptures, and a Chamber of Giants with frescoes of figures ten times human size - but to my surprise, when I looked closely, scratched everywhere with graffiti. There's even a room featuring horse frescoes that also served as the stable block. However, as you can see I didn't take that many pictures as I didn't feel so inspired - in fact my favourite bit was probably the Secret Garden with its grotto, and the inference that people would hide themselves away in its apartment for a dirty weekend back in the day. 

Back to the hotel to pick up by bags, haul them across the road to the station to catch a train back to Verona where I ate bad pizza during a lengthy wait before getting on a delayed Frecciarossa (nice trains, shame about the bloody steps when you have luggage! the Regionale trains have low and high levels!) to Bologna, arriving at little after 4pm, and where the Stazione Centrale is proudly announcing the prossimo aperto of a Pret a Manger...

I'm writing this before leaving Bologna in the morning for my train to Milan and the flight home. Last instalment will follow once I'm back in Blighty...