under the arches

When people talk about Bologna, they'll inevitably go on and on about the meat sauce or the mortadella, but I've never heard anyone go on and on about the porticos that go on and on. In fact, we've been to Bologna before but we still didn't know that Bologna owns the distinct honor of possessing the world's longest portico.

The world's longest portico, you say... What does that look like? Well, at first it looks like a nice short walk underneath a series of pretty arches. And then it starts to look like a medium length walk that's getting steeper and steeper. And by the end it looks like a never-ending walk that you're determined to finish because you've come this far and like hell you're going to stop now.

I guess the amateur athletes passing us along the way could've clued us in to the length and incline of the trek. Or maybe even the folks who were on a pilgrimage, singing religious hymns as they slowly crept along. But for us the walk had just seemed like a good idea after lunch. 666 arches later, with sweaty brows and a view of the outlying hills, we were just happy to be done.

We didn't know at the time that we'd just experienced the world's longest portico. But subsequent web research tells us that we visited the Santuario della Madonna di San Luca at the top of Guardia hill which one reaches after a 3.5 kilometer walk under 666 arches. Not bad for an after-lunch stroll.



Our lunch was at a small trattoria right at the start of the portico. It's approximately four kilometers out of the city center and we took a bus with the rest of the locals fleeing town for the lunchtime hour. At the trattoria there was no English wafting from nearby tables, and no menu. The waiter simply rattled off what was being served that day.



Stefano and our special guest started with fresh pastas heaped with meat sauces while I had the creamiest tortelloni I've yet found in Italy. Filled with ricotta and tiny bits of parsley, the little packages were topped with butter and a single sage leaf. For secondi I opted for a small bowl of mashed potatos and peas while Stefano and our guest shared what I've heard were delicious veal meatballs.

When I'd asked the waiter if there were any chicken or vegetable secondi, he made it clear that, "We eat meat in Bologna." Well then, I said, I'll eat potatoes and peas. But I did appreciate his directness. It was like earlier that day when I saw an older man stop on his bike right next to one of those "human statues" that wait for your coin before they'll move. The man just sat there and sat there, staring at the motionless guy in gold. It was the best piazza showdown I've seen - and not a word was spoken.



After our post-lunch portico adventure we made our own pilgrimage to the Majani chocolate store in the center of town. We didn't leave until we had a fifty-some euro bag of chocolate in hand. You might scoff, but it's easy to do. Their chocolate is incredible and the store is like an old-fashioned pharmacy except that instead of more standard medicinal formulas they dole out chocolates.

It's the kind of place where restless husbands wait outside while their wives linger over the most difficult of chocolate choices. We saw one doing just that. But not my husband - he is a far wiser man. When it comes to chocolate there's never a good reason to wait outside.



When we'd arrived in town earlier that morning we stopped at a great bar that gives you a tiny shot of fizzy water along with your coffee. It's the same place we'd gone our first time here. And the cappuccini were just as good. Except that this time there was art in the cappuccino foam.



The face and the flower were very impressive but I've got an idea... how about 666 arches?

anchovies anyone?

Bologna is one hour and 45 minutes from Milan and if you're lucky you will maybe, magically, have a sense of the system by which Eurostar trains assign seats in second class. It is a fascinating work wherein numbers separated by vast quantities of other numbers are seated directly next to each other, while numbers in close proximity - such as 43 and 44 - are seated far enough away from each other so as to be unable to hold a conversation. Far be it for me to reinvent a long-standing seating system but next time I'd rather sit next to my husband and our friends rather than a generously-sized woman who was as equally interested in her mystery novel as my share of the armrest.

You may picture Bologna as a quaint town in which a thousand soft and wise grandmas stir pots of ragu and wrestle with fresh pasta, all the while guarding the secrets of Italy's finest food. You may also picture the city that houses the world's oldest university as a place haunted by academics with pithy conversations overflowing into the streets and a thousand things to learn before noon. Alas, it is neither. But you can find a pretty mean pair of knock-off sunglasses once night falls.



The food is wonderful. There is no denying that. We happened to find a wildly popular cafeteria at lunchtime in the back of an "antica salsamenteria" in the market area of Bologna. The self-service cafeteria, replete with trays and the rails on which to push them past myriad food choices, can be found in the back of Tamburini and goes by the name of VeloCibo -- fast food. The food is fast and it is also good. I was particularly impressed by the fennel, a vegetable which goes sadly unappreciated in the US but is embraced with passion in Bologna. Did I say passion? I mean cheese.

I think I may also have found my favorite church ever. Santa Maria della Vita has a corner next to the alter that houses, in shadow, the most impressive set of sculpture that I have ever seen in a church. There are 7 life-sized terracotta sculptures reacting to Christ's fallen body before them. Their faces are twisted into the depths of anguish, shockingly visceral and overcome with the force of human feeling.



If you drop 50 cents into a small box hanging from the wall opposite the Pieta you will be rewarded by previously hidden lights illuminating what was just seconds before a shadowy and dark scene. And it is indeed a reward, especially to those who have just spent 15 minutes trying to hold their cameras steady enough in the darkness to capture just a glimpse. I'll not mention any names.



Europe's oldest university is situated in Bologna and has been since the 11th century. Historically a source of Italian luminaries, its intellectual and historical importance can be felt in the weight of the walls and the dip worn into stone steps used by centuries of students.

Bologna is peppered with towers that lean precariously off balance. Think leaning tower of Pisa but made of bricks. Same angle, different materials and in the middle of a functioning city. It's that sort of juxtaposition that allows Bologna a touch of medieval flair. There are also fountains crowned with nude gods and goddesses, with water eschewing from rather uncomfortable places. But rest assured, modern Italy is ever present; should you desire to make a purchase during the lunchtime hour, or on Sundays, you will be met with virtual impossibility.



I will close by saying that if you are scared by the idea of a pasta dish starring anchovies and capers you should not be. You should embrace it and ask the woman who has made it to bring you more. You should take bites of the pasta and run into tiny shreds of anchovy and plump savory capers. You should dredge the spaghetti through the olive oil at the bottom of the plate and catch a few morsels from the sprinkling of parmesan that has randomly fallen across your plate. You should also drink some carbonated red wine with friends and visit each other's meals with your forks and share desserts and walk back to the hotel laughing. You should, most certainly, do this very thing.