On Sundays, the city shuts down, almost all stores are closed and the streets are empty. Where does everybody go? Giardino Margherita, the large park just outside the city center. Couples spread blankets on the grass, families bring picnics, little kids learn to ride their bikes, and dogs chase each other around the trees. There is a candy cart, and a bouncy castle, a duck pond and quiet places to sit under the trees and read a book. As the year goes on, the oaks are turning brown and the gelato kiosk is starting to sell roast chestnuts. On a foggy October evening, when the joggers have the place to themselves, you can almost forget you are in a city.
Monday: I'm here to be a university student, after all, and even in Italy that means going to class. The political science department takes up a sprawling palazzo in the center. Like much of the University, it is half marble statues looming over the grand staircase and frescos in the lecture halls, and half home-made banners advertising protests and desks covered in fifty years of graffiti. Between classes the courtyard fills with clumps of students smoking and taking advantage of the espresso vending machines. Studying is taken very seriously, but there is always the possibility the teachers will go on strike, and then all bets are off.
Tuesday: Food shopping in Bologna is more of an entertainment than a chore. I start at the Mercato degli Erbi, the daily indoor farmer's market, with produce sold by the kilo (because who would want just one apple?) It also has a fishmonger section, where the prawns are so fresh that they were moving. That may be fresher than I can handle, since I admit I'm not quite up to the complexity of ordering in the butcher's shops. There are more vegetable stands, cheese shops and bakeries in maze of streets behind the main square. Fresh pasta, particularly tortellini, is an institution in Bologna, displayed decoratively in store windows. I return home loaded with purchases, and conveniently hungry.
Wednesday: Take a walk: Turn right at the end of my block, down Via Farini, window shopping the fashion houses. At the corner with Via Castiglione, there is a pharmacy in a curlicued Art Noveau building. Farini becomes Santo Stefano. The door knocker on this apartment building is shaped like a screaming head. Someone is growing geraniums on their roof. Walk all the way to the edge of the center, where the old city gate stands on a traffic island. Coming back on Strada Maggiore, for a moment there is a clear view all the way to the the Two Towers, before the street twists, and turns into tiny cafes and old-fashioned hardware stores. The portico above the bank building has a fresco. Always look up - just don't get hit by a student franticly biking to class...
Thursday: Gelato gets a whole day to itself in this calender. Everyone has their favorite place, but for me the winner is Gelateria Funivia. Crema Leonardo (toasted pinenuts) and Alice (mascarpone with melted chocolate added to the bottom of the cone). Pear sorbet and dark chocolate. Crema Cavour (caramelized lemon) and pistachio and hazelnut......I want one now.
Friday: Aperitivi: On a warm evening, you are most likely to find an Italian sitting on the cobblestone piazza outside their favorite bar/cafe, with a class of wine or a spritz, and a plate piled high with snacks. Appertivi is bar food elevated to an art, and also a sneaky way to eat a cheap dinner. For a base price (between 2.50 and 7 euro), with your drink you get free reign of a buffet. In the best places, that means things like focaccia, cold pasta dishes, mini sandwiches, sauteed eggplant and zucchini.
Sunday: San Luca: It is an act of virtue to make the pilgrimage on foot to this church on a hill above the city. There is a porticoed walkway the entire distance, but I took an especially round-about way during an outing organized by the city government. We climbed a neighboring hill, cutting through backyards and wild patches, and getting a lovely view of the city below. Down the other side, we stopped at an organic farm by the river to sample their wine, and ate our packed lunches while being watched hungrily by goats. Then we climbed San Luca from the back, on a winding path through the woods that passed signs depicting the stations of the cross. The actually church isn't anything so special, but the feeling of accomplishment I got while sitting on the step, eating a crescentina, made it all worthwhile.
