With all the wedding arrangements, we had decided on a more leisurely approach to getting to Brindisi this year. We would break our journey in Bologna (which neither of us have visited) and then take the train down much of the length of eastern Italy to Brindisi.
It was a very short walk from the Sofitel at Gatwick to the terminal, EasyJet lived up to its name and the flight to Bologna was uneventful. But we should have known what to expect. We were sitting at the front and as the plane descended, the flight attendant looked out at the clouds and said “I was expecting sunshine”.
When we got out of the terminal it was freezing. We grabbed a taxi to our apartment and when we got to the management office, the nice friendly young Italian lady said something like “Avresti dovuto essere qui qualche settimana fa, il tempo era davvero caldo.”
This is where you readers discover that you know much more Italian than you think you do. There will not really be a prize for those of you who get it right, but those of you who have no clue should really pay more attention in class. There might be another quiz later.
It was indeed cold - temperatures that would normally be about 25C (say 75F) were struggling to get close to 12C ( approx. 55F) and it was gloomy. First impressions of Bologna were not favorable. Might this be the first Italian city we could not learn to love? The weather was definitely challenging. The usual Italian custom of drinking an aperitivo (Aperol spritz - the New York Times has no hope of changing this no matter what they say) became an endurance test for the young folks in the cafes - down jackets, ski hats, scarves and gloves were all necessary - but, to their credit, they persisted. And it was here that I encountered the age-old photo-journalist dilemma - should you take photographs of a miserable scene and focus only on the shot and not the content? I confess I couldn’t - but Lori could!
We wandered round in the cold for most of two days and I was unimpressed by the graffiti and that it seemed that so many young people were smoking in the streets. This seemed much more prevalent than it is in the south. Perhaps they had to do something to take the edge off the weather. One local resident refused to only curse the gloom and brought her own patch of sunlight to brighten up the street scene.
There was one thing could not be dulled by the weather and that was the quality of the food. Bologna is famous in Italy for this (and not just Bolognese sauce). All types of pasta and a wide variety of rich meat sauces were all wonderful - the pasta supple and beautifully textured; the sauces rich and complex. It didn’t seem to matter where we went, food was reliably of the highest quality.
And, wile travel may broaden the mind, it certainly corrects your recipes. Although I can defend my use of beef in my Bolognese sauce, I had completely forgotten what my “Italian grandmother” Marcella Hazan taught me - there is milk in true Bolognese sauce and it adds a lightness and suppleness that would be missing otherwise. For all those of you who know this, I apologize for my lack of couth.
In the same vein (i.e. how not to live and act like a foreigner), we were in this little osteria (the lowest level of authentic Italian restaurants) when we saw someone make the international sign for “I want the bill” that is scribbling in the air with an imaginary pen on imaginary paper. The waiter then hollers across the crowded restaurant, “Are you trying to send me a postcard? If so, I can give you my address!!” Oops! We’re glad we’re not those people. When our time comes we politely and audibly ask for “Il conto, per favore.” Lesson learned!!
We ate in one night and bought prosciutto and fresh pasta from a little store round the corner. It looked pretty traditional, the two guys serving behind the counter looked like they’d been doing it for years and the quality was excellent. One thing about prosciutto that’s not too obvious in the States is that there are many different types (largely depending on where it comes from). So asking fro prosciutto in a store triggers a clarifying question. A safe answer is “Parma” (which is just down the road) but we don’t yet have a good feeling for all the variants and their strengths and weaknesses. Now there’s another existential Italian dilemma: so much prosciutto so little time!
After dinner, we were watching the Food Network in Italian (we thought we might just be able to follow it) and the program was about ….Bologna! It featured a local chef, local culinary experts and the best local sources of the best ingredients, and who do we see on the program - the two guys from the store round the corner who are being deeply deferred to on their knowledge of prosciutto.
This seemed to be a good omen for the skies brightened the following day and most people shed their gloves, some shed their wooly hats but puffy jackets and scarves looked like they were not going to be discarded any time soon.
The old center of Bologna is comparatively small and there are not really any superb architectural marvels.
For example, the Basilica of San Petronius in the main square is considered a “minor basilica”. Construction was started in 1390 (how old do you have to be to be a “major basilica”? Are we perhaps setting the bar a little high here?) and due to unforeseen planning and logistical reasons like war, religious factionalism, political intrigue, vacations and lunch, its facade remains incomplete to this day.
In the same square is the famous statue of Neptune dating from the mid-1560’s. It is a popular meeting point for Bolognesi and has its own subtle way of making a political statement.
Neptune turns his back on Huawei; Huawei is shocked.
This fountain has some interesting physiological perspectives on the female anatomy.
Certain lawmakers in a least three US states actually believe that this is where water comes from.
Bologna also had some trouble with towers.
This must be an Italian thing - consider San Gimignano and Pisa. Indeed, Bologna did consider these examples and chose the worst excesses of each - close proximity as in San Gimignano and “leaning” as in Pisa. This tower in Bologna actually leans more that the one in Pisa AND it’s surrounded by buildings that people live in and traffic that makes things shake. Hmmm.
None the less, it’s the consistency of the buildings rather than their individual merit that is pleasing as well as the colonnades in front that seem to tie the buildings together (and keep you out of the weather).
We provisioned for the next day which was to be our train ride south in another little traditional food store. We had seen on the Food Network that another local specialty was “torta di riso” (rice tart/cake). It is rich and superb - Lori and I are not big cake fans but this was quite special. We researched on the Internet about the store where we bought it and, again, we seem to have stumbled upon the torta di riso motherlode!
Italian high-speed trains are actually pretty good. And by “high-speed” they mean “high-speed” with the fastest being able to reach 350 km (200 m) per hour. And they run pretty much on time. So it was a highly civilized smooth no changes ride from Bologna to Brindisi. The scenery was not quite as varied as we had expected with a lot of the journey following the coastline REALLY closely. Any climate change worries here?
But we arrived quite fresh and relaxed in Brindisi, where the weather was …….