February 12 2019
At hundreds of miles an hour, we slam into the train station in Bologna, marking the start of our first field trip. A week from now, I will have traversed countless medieval streets, summited various post card monuments, eaten myself under the table, and experienced the indescribable.
Your first impression of Bologna upon entering its historic center is characterized by storybook medieval vias that shoot off of the Piazza Maggiore, the grandest piazza in the city and the epicenter of a radiating network of streets and alleyways. In this vast public space, people walk across what is essentially a giant mosaic like ants marching in every direction. The Fountain of Neptune and the Basilica di San Petronio anchor this vantage point to the rest of the urban fabric. Unlike the famous fountains of Rome, the Fountain of Neptune is adorned with darkly colored statues, a bold diversion from the classical marble ones of the Trevi. Neptune, the roman god of the sea, stands above it all, guarding his city with a trident. He holds it high in the air, a beacon of the city’s pride supported by a muscle bound backbone. It’s quite a sight, set against a backdrop of colorful medieval architecture.
Directly opposite the fountain is the Basilica di San Petronio, one of the most notable medieval basilicas in Italy. Although unfinished, the structure still manages to lend its beauty to the city and impress even the most critical of visitors. The source of its beauty lies in the pinkish marble detailing lining the foot of the flank. The way the material glows in the sunlight reminds me of the Taj Mahal in India. It certainly has a similar effect on the viewer.
From there, Jeffrey sets his eyes on the two towers of Bologna, which are precisely what they sound like. Two medieval watchtowers stick straight up over the brown roofs of the surrounding buildings, guarding them from potential attackers. From a distance, they look like stilts that someone stuck into the ground. Without hesitation, Jeffrey climbs the six hundred or so steps to the top of one of them, and we ducklings follow closely behind. Rickety wooden stairs spiral all the way up the inner walls of the brick shaft, framing a terrifying view of the ground below. People say “don’t look down,” as if it’s supposed to ameliorate the sheer terror of ascending a five-hundred-year old wooden staircase in a drafty nine-hundred-foot tall tower. Let me tell you something, you’re gonna piss your pants either way, so might as well take a good long gander and move along. The view is spectacular, however, and you can clearly see the snow-capped mountains that surround the city. Is it worth it? I think that’s a judgement you’ll have to make by yourself.
The rest of the day whisks by as we basically walk the entire span of the city center. Everything blends together, including a Le Corbusier pavilion, the first university in the world, as well as all the colors of Bologna. It’s a heavenly escape from the mass tourism and busy streets of Rome, but I can’t help but miss my bed and Sudario 5.
Ciao,
Jacob
