The Beauty of Bologna -Contrasts in Corona times

I have just come back from a quick trip admiring the beauty of Bologna, a buzzing university city with more than 2500 years of history, located in Northern Italy. In these weird Corona-times I want to state that the cause was this trip was not holiday but taking care of personal matters. However, I occasionally had to put a holiday hat onto my head and decide to enjoy the city, even if tourism easily has a selfish echo these days.

This was the first time abroad for us since Corona grew into a pandemic. Just approaching the Eindhoven airport in the Netherlands, from where we flew, made me extremely happy like a child going to an amusement park. It turned out to be more of a ghost park, as everything was closed and silent. Ryanair brought us, a plane boarded with a quiet lot of mask-wearing mostly non-tourists, to Bologna’s warmth in less than two hours and a handy airport shuttle bus to the central station of Bologna in maybe 15 minutes.

For almost exactly 40 years ago, on the 2nd of August 1980, the Bologna central station was the target of a terrorist attack, strage di Bologna. 85 people died when a suitcase containing 23 kilos of explosives fulminated in the waiting hall. The attack has been attributed to a neo-fascist terrorist group, but there continues to be debates of who was the real culprit. The inhabitants of Bologna have not forgotten this incident and organize annual memorial rituals every August. A clock at the station is permanently set at 10.25, the time of the explosion -although only since 1996, despite many people’s false memory that the clock has been frozen on this time since 1980.

Bologna was founded by Etruscans in the 6th century BC and named Felsina, taken over by Gauls in the mid-4th century, and made into a Roman colony, renamed Bononia, in 189 BC. Bologna has a little under 400 000 inhabitants and a reputation for being the city of academics, food-lovers, and political left-wingers. This is also why it has three nicknames: The dotta (the Learned), la Rossa (the Red), and the Grassa (the Fat). It is home to the oldest European university, founded in 1088, which has on its alumni list names like Dante, Petrarch, and Erasmus of Rotterdam.

The other nickname, la rossa, reflects how from the 12th century onward, the city evolved into an industrial center, a home for workers’ movements and a fortress for Italy’s communist party. Part of the beauty of Bologna is its attitude: it is known for its traditions for protest and activism, also evident in the plethora of street art and sometimes deeply thought-provoking graffiti. It nests an active student life and a lively gay community. Moreover, the food you can eat in Bologna is extraordinary even on an Italian scale.

We stayed in Astoria Hotel, a charming, sleepy little place right at the heart of Bologna (Via Fratelli Rosselli, 14). The room had an unmistakably 80’s feel to it, emphasized as I found a stepper, bright red under its dust cover, at the back of the wardrobe. The wallpapers were a mixture of 60’s, 70’s, and 80’s, the flowers dead in their pots at the balcony -the Italian sun is ruthless and lethal, even more so if the chambermaid barely cares to make the bed and place a new toilet paper roll in the bathroom. Breakfast can be eaten outside at a small garden area, shielded by trees and frequently visited by incredibly insolent pigeons feasting on the breadcrumbs.

Visitors were not many. We shared the outside breakfast area with a French mom and two teenage kids the first two mornings and a small group of Italian men the other. I secretly fed the pigeons and -with a heart up in my throat- observed a rat trap hidden in the bushes, hoping not to find a ratto or topo inside.

Notes under Portici

The days were hot and busy for us, but we took every opportunity to walk around admiring the beauty of Bologna. Much of this walking happened along colonnaded walkways or portici, which Bologna has the most in the world, 40 kilometres. As the population increased in the Middle Ages, especially because of the influx of people attending the university, it was necessary to increase the living spaces. The colonnades started as wooden, balcony-like expansions of the buildings and grew until they needed to be supported with wooden beams.

Around the 13th century, the City of Bologna made it obligatory to build a masonry porch for each such dwelling, and the colonnades evolved into lively places of trade and commerce. There has been Medieval, Gothic, and Renaissance influences in their design, and to this day, they provide protection against the piercing sun and occasional rain. Each portico is different, ranging from the oldest wooden ones to some semi-porticos that don’t have columns. Sadly, many portici also offer a sleeping place for homeless people. They give a face to tragedies I have no words for.

Walking at the streets, I observe the colorful red and yellow buildings and the beautiful locals walking their dogs. At parco della Montagnola we stop to pet a friendly mastiff-looking dog who is all in for some attention. Things that hit me: The striking absence of tourists. The face-mask wearing, serious people (although many chose to keep the mask in their purse or pocket, or wrapped around their wrist like a quirky bracelet). The closed windows of some corner shops. The eighties-reminiscent font in the signs of curious shops that would not survive in many other corners of Europe: mobile phones and other electronics, pastries, tarot cards, miniature fairy statues. The use of “America” and “American” in the shop names and signs, to bring that extra flavor to a café or sex toy business. As a striking difference from Finland, American here is something good by definition.

Struggling but Surviving

Perhaps it’s all in my imagination, but I feel people look tired and a little depressed. The Italian economy has been stuck for years already before Corona outbreak, and now it has to contend with the diving stock markets in Milan with the mildest forecasts of economic impact being astonishing 80 billion euros. Bologna is located in the industrial north, in the wealthy district of Emilia-Romagna. At the early phases of the Covid-pandemic, the government quaranteened the most affected communities, but soon extended the lockdown to cover most of northern Italy, including Bologna.

Now in mid-July, blood seems to be circulating again in the body of Bologna, even if the far-reaching consequences of the Corona situation remain unclear. Most cafés and restaurants have reopened and serve locals that enjoy their break with the masquerina nearby. A middle-aged woman having lunch next to us in a cafeteria has hers stuffed into a Calvin Klein bag. She complains to a colleague passing by that she is completely unable to use Power Point to finish a work task. Part of the beauty of Bologna is this funny openness -and to a Finnish ear, loudness- of people in their salutations and conversations. It is also customary to hear people say what seems like insults to each other. For example, a man walking past a group of friends eating at a restaurant might yell, teasing one of them, “Why are you sitting with this asshole?”. Unlike in Finland, this is not the start of a fight but Italians showing their appreciation in their quirky way.

It is astonishing to observe how few young people there are around. Indeed, Italy´s fertility rate is very low and many young people prefer to do a brain leak jump abroad. The ones remaining are in a struggle: The youth unemployment rate has been almost 30% for decades, and the percentage of the NEETs (not employed, not in training) of 20-34 years was a striking 28% in 2019. I imagine that an older signore selling us some home-made ice cream in a cornershop has made his career here and continues to have a fairly well-doing business -Italians will always have their gelato– but his children and grandchildren face a lot worse prospects if they decide to remain.

Beauty of Bologna is in the Eye of the Beholder

Observing the anger-filled graffiti, the tension on the faces of the locals, the homeless people sleeping at the colonnades, I realize how my love for Italy is profoundly sentimental and romantic. This ideal image of Italy is deeply rooted in my Finnish soul, where Italy is always associated with warmth, happiness, good food, easygoing life, amazing culture, stunning beauty, superb quality of life. I let this romantic and unrealistic picture be a little torn around the edges. Yet, a part of me wants to hold onto this age old cultural programming. Coming back to Italy this summer was like coming to see an old friend who is not doing very well and has aged a lot since last meeting. Or then I have changed, too.

However, we will remain friends no matter what. The beauty of Bologna as well as the beauty of anything in this world, lies in the eye of the beholder. See my next posts for some happier and lighter travel notes from Italy.