Yes, I’ve cried on friends’ shoulders, shared laughs, graduated, shopped, worked, participated in weddings…the normal life stuff. But ten years ago I never would have anticipated that I would be crossing Europe with my friends, and it would be thanks to them that I can experience Europe in a way that far and away surpasses your average tourist experience.
I’ve lived in Bologna, Italy, for three years, which is a big university town. Here I have been lucky to meet people from all over the world. Among my best friends are a Russian and a Serbian, and between the two of them we have heard a lot of Cold War and Bill Clinton jokes, which I am more than willing to suffer in exchange for the unique opportunity to see the world through their eyes once in a while. And even the Italians that I am drawn to seem to have the traveling spirit and have spread all over Europe.
So, luckily, I seem to have a friend wherever I want to go. And my mission is to take advantage of this as much as possible. In the last month I have been to Austria, Germany, and within Italy I have visited Venice, Treviso, Cassano D’Adda, Dozza, and Rome. Exhausting, but awesome.
My friends have brought me to these cities in different capacities – as tourists themselves, companions, hosts…and each trip was a pleasure. I have the karma gods to thank for this, because, well, let’s face it. Traveling with friends can be overwhelmingly awful as often as it can be wonderful. I’ve had my share of the awful – from my friend loosing his pre-paid credit card on the way to our vacation in Stockholm, leaving me to underwrite his trip. Or the evening a friend and I chose different adventures for the night, and thinking he would get home before me, he took the keys to our shared apartment from my purse without telling me, and never arrived at home, leaving me to search for an available hotel room in the wee hours of the night on foot in Hamburg, Germany.
But, despite my past challenges, I can still whole-heartedly recommend traveling with friends. The lighthearted, more outward focused energy between friends usually leaves us more emotionally open to meeting people during our adventures, which I believe is the true spirit of traveling. Traveling with friends can be a nice break from traveling with your family or significant other in that it allows you to escape the normal role you play within your family unit. And when you visit friends in their cities, you couldn’t ask for a better way to experience a new city.
I only hope you can learn from my utter failures and keep in mind a few of my tips: Try to travel with friends that have at least an equal amount of travel experience as you, and friends that you have traveled with before (at least a little bit) – i.e. don’t go to East Africa with someone you’ve never even left your own city with. The more they love to travel, the better. And if you aren’t completely flexible in every way along with your friend(s), the more you have in common economically, habitually, and with your goals/interests, the less conflicts you will have. Which, in the end, I guess is just basic logic.
Logic?? What’s that???
Stay tuned for my series of posts about my trips this month with my fabu friends. And the pics!! Oh, the pics. Several thousand of them. But don’t worry, they’ll be edited. 🙂 A presto!
The view from the Rialto bridge in Venice is – in a word – indescribable. Yes, you are submerged in tourists. But if you can just face forward and take a deep breath and let the beauty of Venice pour in, you will never forget the moment. The curve of the Grand Canal teeming with activity just below your feet, the pastel painted buildings lining the water with bobbing boats parked steps away. Yesterday was a warm, sunny day, and the canal was gleaming with energy. Even the birds seemed to know this was the place to be.
Living far away from home isn’t always easy. But this sunset view of St. Peter’s Basilica just off of the Piazza dei Cavalieri di Malta in Rome has a way of melting away all of my homesickness. Just one gentle sweep of my eyes across the Roman rooftops and all my worries are gone…
A country as beloved by Americans as Italy means there are a lot of tourists here. And while there’s technically nothing wrong with lots of tourists, the general consensus would be that high ratios of tourists greatly diminish the potential for experiencing a country as we dream of, stepping out of the predictability of our lives into a temporary, magical world where everything is different and fascinating. I’ll never forget the American woman who unknowingly cut into all of our “magical” experiences when she loudly announced at a restaurant in Venice, “Hey, y’all got somethin’ ta eat ’round here?”
I can’t tell you how many times I have been to Florence or Venice or Cinque Terre and felt sorry for some of the tourists. Now, don’t get me wrong – a trip to Florence is amazing no matter what. But an Italian vacation hitting only the most famous cities means never truly touching the spirit of the Italian lifestyle, which, technically, is what brings us here to begin with, right? Instead, I recommend with gusto – even if your next vacation outside of your country is short – scheduling in some time in a city off the beaten path, no matter how small and insignificant that city may seem. These are the places that incubate those travelling moments you’ll never forget.
Take Treviso for instance. With a mere 20 minute time investment on a train leaving from Venice every half hour or so, you’ll be so far from the crowds of tourists that you’ll think your train crossed you into some sort of other dimension instead of just transporting you 25 miles away. Impeccably maintained with remains of frescos adorning many buildings,
and lazy art-filled canals cutting through the center of town, dotted by chic cafes and high quality osterias,
surprisingly even many other Italians don’t give this beautiful city its due credit.
My conversation announcing my trip to Treviso to my Bolognese English students went something like this: “I’m going to Treviso Sunday!” “Treviso? Why??” “Because I want to go someplace new!” “There’s nothing in Treviso. Don’t go there.”
But still itching to get out of Bologna and not wanting to spend a lot of money, I went anyway, inspired by the advice I found in the blog, Around and About Treviso. But because of my friends’ bad advice, I was so disillusioned about Treviso’s potential before I even arrived that I only scheduled about five hours of time to explore the city, thinking that would be more than enough time. Fortunately, I was quite mistaken.
Instead, what I found in Treviso was an afternoon of nothing but pleasure. The center of the relaxed city is mostly closed to traffic. I let out a sigh of relief as I slowed my normal pace to stroll Treviso’s clean streets under the mini porticos, enjoying the beautiful architectural touches of the thoughtfully updated medieval buildings.
And most of my day continued like that. I followed all the instructions on the blog except taking advantage of the nature trail because I ran out of time. I went by the three beautiful churches. I had the best tiramisu I’ve ever eaten at Antica Pasticceria Nascimben, which is only fitting, being that Treviso is considered to be the home of tiramisu.
I checked out the exhibit at Ca’ dei Carraresi, beautifully positioned with picture windows along one of the main canals. But the most important “attraction” in Treviso is that the city shines so much with the beauty of the unmistakable care that it has been given over the years, and I was content just to spend the day walking the streets and people watching.
No travel guide would ever put this on the list of “must-dos” in a city, but in Treviso there’s nothing better than an afternoon of petting happy dogs (and children dressed as dogs!) on walks with their families,
resting a moment on a park bench to enjoy an outdoor sculpture bathed in nature, or buying a two euro glass of local prosecco to sit and enjoy the beautiful canal view for just a bit longer.
I hope to go back soon, this time for a weekend. And in the meantime Treviso stands tall and proud among my memories of my Italian adventures. In my opinion, we spend too much time focusing on seeing “the sights.” We are determined to have the best vacations, and I guess that’s the simplest strategy to achieve this. But to have the opportunity to be a quiet guest in a foreign, beautiful world and just to watch, and to learn, those people’s lives…that, I think, is the best. I hope you can someday make it to Treviso, and if not, that you find your own Treviso soon. There’s probably one closer than you think.
I guess it is pretty much a given that living far away from home is never easy. And living in a different country is equally challenging. So at my three-year anniversary of living both of these realities, I’ve been feeling a bit tired. And ready to go home. But after the night before last, thanks to Bologna’s annual Notte Bianca, a.k.a. Art City White Night, I am comforted knowing I can leave Italy on a happy note. The infatuation for Italy that I arrived here with has been substituted with a real, sincere love based on a foundation of its awesomeness: the tangible, ever-present appreciation for enjoying the best things in life – food, people, traveling, and culture.
Similar events in the US (on a smaller scale) include Ray at Night in San Diego and the monthly Pittsburgh gallery crawl, but due to the infrequency of Art City White Night and the given respect for its sister event, Arte Fiera, Notte Bianca is truly an opportunity to see the beautiful nooks and crannies of Bologna’s heritage that are rarely open to the public. Really, it is kind of tourist’s dream.
My first year in Bologna, Art City White Night was struck by bitter cold and it was all I could do to make it out of the house. Subsequent years I have made the fatal mistake of taking Art City White Night as an opportunity to eat and drink in good company. But I was overwhelmingly mistaken, because bars and restaurants are open every night, and during Art City White Night, they are an overcrowded nightmare.
So, third time’s a charm. This year, my final year, I happened to be on photo assignment for a local contemporary art magazine, Droste Effect Magazine, and I was determined to visit as many participating locations as possible. Alone, and lugging a lot of equipment, I was not anticipating a great evening. But, as what you expect always seems to end up completely opposite, the evening was absolutely marvelous. I was continually floored by what I discovered…a constant grab bag of delights and possibly my best night ever in Bologna. I am no expert on visual art. But I love these events because you don’t have to know anything about art. The city was bursting with people discovering their city and having fun. Not bad.
And, I tell ya, I will not soon forget the beauty I witnessed on Saturday. I stumbled into places I’ve been countless times, like the historic grocery market, that I will never see the same way after following the beautiful sound of an accordion only to discover a man passionately playing amongst the quiet stalls of vegetable merchants.
Or the main piazza, Piazza Maggiore, which I walked through on my way to another gallery, only to find myself surrounded by people flying kites at midnight. I was dumfounded for a moment…kites? Midnight? Winter? Only in Italy… 🙂 It will be forever burned into my memory.
But really, the opportunity to go behind closed doors was the most memorable, from a famously transformed historical church boasting a contemporary art installation on the altar, which was an amazing juxtaposition of contemporary and historical art,
to skipping an art exhibit in favor of just enjoying the staircase leading to the show, which was hidden within city’s administration buildings. This is the most dramatic staircase I have ever encountered, and unfortunately, my photo doesn’t do it justice.
Another highlight was being invited into the city’s more exclusive locations, like The Grand Hotel Majestic, where the likes of Elton John and Princess Diana have stayed while visiting Bologna,
and marveling at the frescos on the ceilings of the beautiful buildings in the city center.
I am trying to compare this evening to a similar evening in my life, but I really can’t think of anything that can compare. I felt like Alice in Wonderland, wandering through Bologna with no idea what marvel or magical character I would find next. And in the end, a powerful reminder of what a gift it has been to live in this beautiful place.
And why oh why didn’t I take more advantage of it? I guess every regret is just a lesson learned, and hopefully a lesson passed on. Put yourself out there and…you will be rewarded. 🙂
Editor’s note: In my humble opinion, traveling solo is truly the best way to travel, whether you are joining a tour or setting out on your own. But when the thought of traveling alone becomes too overwhelmingly intimidating, turn to an organized tour. They aren’t as bad as you think.
But I think you’ve heard enough from me lately, so I asked an expert on the subject – one of my favorite people and a great friend from high school – to explain how she’s used organized tours to satiate her traveling appetite as a young, single woman. Giovanna has gone from slight isolation in our small town in the southwest corner of the US, to pursuing international adventures on her own through the help of a great tour agency. And she even managed to meet me for dinner in Florence.
Here we are, recently reunited in Florence (I’m having a hard time concealing my excitement). The tour company was nice enough to offer me a ride to dinner with Giovanna on their tour bus.
I’m from a small town in southern California where most people only travel to another country because we live in a border town 20 minutes from Mexico. So when I took my first trip across the country to Syracuse, NY I thought I was going to have an anxiety attack (I’m joking because I’ve never had an anxiety attack, but I’m sure that what I felt might have been a borderline attack). That first trip was for a continued education course just for a few days, but it encouraged me to be adventurous and explore other countries – countries on different continents, not just the one 20 minutes from my house.
Giovanna with friends from the tour at the Trevi Fountain in Rome.
My friend found a trip to Italy with a tour company named Contiki, which specializes in tours for young adults, and I thought it was perfect! I would be traveling to another country with a group of people my age (safety in numbers), hotel and transportation would be taken care of, I didn’t have to learn a new language to get around (although leading up to the trip I did listen to an Italian CD over and over for months to learn common phrases), and I would get to see all the tourist attractions. That first trip was absolutely amazing and the only thing that was disappointing was how quickly we ran out of time in such a beautiful place. Since then I have traveled with the same company several times, including several other land tours and a cruise. I’ve felt so safe on those trips that last year I decided to take a tour of Europe and this time I went alone – eeek (I was nervous and excited at the same time)! I made some wonderful friends while on the trip and learned a lot about myself and finally began to realize all that my traveling has taught me about culture, religion, art, music, FOOD, and respect for people.
Giovanna enjoying her food. 🙂
Although I have enjoyed traveling with tours, it certainly isn’t for everyone. If your idea of traveling is to have freedom with sites you visit especially in respect to how long you will be there, or you prefer to travel without an itinerary, or to travel alone or with a few friends, then tours may not be for you. The tours I have been on tend to be fast paced and you may not spend much time in any one city or town but you will find that you spend enough time to know if it is somewhere you would like to come back to and visit again. The tour guide will also inform you of the tourist attractions and interesting facts and any relevant history related to the area along with tips and suggestions for meals and exploration. You will be given some free time to roam and explore but the tour is on a time frame and will not wait for those who wander too far. If you are unable to make it to the pick-up point at the appointed time you will get left behind and it is your responsibility to catch up with the tour group at your expense and I am a witness people DO get left behind! Tours seem to come in all shapes and sizes, so it is never impossible to find one suited to your interests. Here are a few resources for choosing a tour that’s right for you:
Since I started this blog I’ve known that the missing ingredient was a dash of charm and a whole lotta honesty. It isn’t easy being totally honest with a bunch of strangers (no offense) and not-so-strangers. So finally, here is a true story – a huge steaming plate of reality from my life as a traveler – and a stellar example of why I am in love with traveling. I hope you enjoy.
Even rain is charming in Venice.
A few weeks ago I was on a commuter train headed to Venice on a cold, quiet Saturday evening in Italy. Despite the rain and my exhaustion from a long week of teaching English and a late night the night before in Bologna, I decided to follow through with my plan to catch the last day of the Venice Biennale exhibition that weekend. My English student appeared on the train from out of nowhere, jumping on seconds before the departure. He’s a captain with the Italian military police and was on his way home from work to his hometown of Ferrara, a short train ride from Bologna.
He sat down next to me. “Teacher! Where are you going?”
Caught in the middle of a daydream, I had to think a moment about my answer. “To Venice!”
He gives me a knowing look. “Alone? And looking so tired?”
These were legitimate questions. But I had a good answer. “I love to travel alone. I always make new friends.”
He thought a moment about my answer. “It could be.”
“But,” I continued, “tonight is going to be a quiet night at my hotel. I am exhausted.”
Famous. Last. Words.
I was finally in my room two and a half hours later, after a long and beautiful – albeit wet – stroll to Venice’s Dorsoduro district to my hotel near the Peggy Guggenheim museum. Too tired to put effort into my outfit, I stuck with my jeans (normally an absolute no-no for me on a Saturday night), grabbed my iPad, and set out immediately to begin the daunting task of finding a not-too-touristy restaurant for dinner.
The Peggy Guggenheim, one of my favorite museums on earth.
Long ago a student friend of mine took me to a piazza in the Accademia area of Venice that was full of bars and restaurants. Pretty far from Piazza San Marco, I thought this was a good bet for finding a less touristy restaurant. Problem was, I had no idea how to get there. And direction is not so easy in Venice. Details! No biggie. I burst out of my hotel and walked in the general direction of the Accademia area.
After some helpful signs and some strategic following of the crowds around Venice’s infamous small and windy streets, I found the piazza. Campo Santa Margherita it was called. I was proud of myself for getting myself there. It was buzzing with people having drinks and aperitivo and preparing for the Saturday night festivities. Perfect. I had an excellent 4 euro glass of wine and examined the Google map of the area on my iPad. This is my shortcut for finding a decent restaurant on-the-go: I check out the restaurants that are actually on the Google map because they are usually good.
Google showed me three options around the Campo Santa Margherita area. En route to the first Google option, a restaurant called Osteria alla Bifora caught my eye. The windows were steamy, and it was packed. The atmosphere was great…not too elegant, not too straightforward. The menu was short and specialized. Good. But, no vegetarian option. I sighed and kept walking to the Google recommendation around the corner. A no-go: boring menu. The next restaurant was also a no-go: bad ambiance. I found myself walking in circles…what should I do? I was tired, and it was getting late.
I decided to trust my gut. I went back to the steamy restaurant with no vegetarian options. But as soon as I walked in, my heart sank. The seating was communal. There was no place for a single traveler.
But, I was hungry. I flagged down the hostess and explained my predicament in Italian. “I have two issues: I’m a vegetarian. And I’m alone.” She responded, “We’ll make a vegetarian plate for you. And…wait here.” She approached a full table near the door and said something to a man at the table, and then returned to me. “You can sit with them.” She pointed to the table she had just visited. I was mortified. “No, no, that’s ok. I just was hoping to take a chair at a table, I don’t need to join anyone.” Her expression didn’t change. “You can sit with them,” she repeated. Like a deer caught in the headlights, I looked back at the table. They were all looking at me. The guy she had spoken to stood up and offered me his chair. My feet carried me to the table but in my mind I was running away. I paused for a moment at the head of the table. I was trying to understand the situation. Four guys and two girls. Their girlfriends perhaps? Are these girls going to hate me for butting in on their date night? No time for thinking, they were waiting for me to sit down. So I sat down. I don’t even remember the introductions, except that they loved my name and started calling me Peggy Guggenheim. It was all a blur.
The women were on my left. They were Germans and also in town for the Biennale. They didn’t know the guys either, and they didn’t speak Italian.
The guy across from me asks in Italian, “Do you like white or red?”
“Oh, whatever you are having is fine with me.”
“White?”
“Sure. I’ll pay you back after.”
He gave me a little wave of disagreement and shouted to the waitress, “A bottle of prosecco!”
And that is when my vision of a quiet night officially came to a screeching halt.
The guys were very Northern Italian looking. Their light complexions and elegant dress were a welcome change from Bologna, a university town full of casually dressed students from across Italy. They told me they were from Venice. Wow. Awesome.
And what commenced can only be described as a feast. We enjoyed a cross-continental multi-lingual dinner over platters of one of everything on the menu and never-ending prosecco. And no one would touch my veggie plate, so I had it all to myself.
A platter at Osteria alla Bifora.
“You’re fun!” says the German girl next to me. “Come with us to the Biennale tomorrow!” “But tonight, you guys are going dancing with us!” said the guy across from me. “It depends where,” I responded. Venice is not known for its night life. The guy at the end of the table who had given me his chair chimed in. “It is a beautiful place. You will love it.” “Maybe,” I said. Then came the after dinner drinks. We played a bit of musical chairs, put the new Daft Punk album on my iPad, and the party was on. Even the restaurant owner’s dog came over to join us. The hostess was watching me from across the room. She seemed surprised things had worked out so well. Somehow, I wasn’t. My gut had known it.
After dinner drinks come with a cookie.
Finally, the moment arrived. To dance, or not to dance. Did I really have a choice?
I left this restaurant that I had entered alone just hours earlier, now accompanied by six new friends. We walked back across the piazza, through the windy Venetian streets, across the Grand Canal, and then I lost track. At the end of a small, dark street, a handsomely dressed man beckoned us into a beautiful, unmarked building. I found myself in a sea of wealthy Venetians in a gorgeous room I can only liken to a lounge at the Four Seasons Hotel. And there I was, just a normal girl from El Centro, California. In my jeans.
But I only worried about my state of being under dressed for a few seconds before other priorities took over: having fun. Music, dancing, new friends, mingling. But eventually the reality of life began to dawn on me and I realized my carriage was about to turn into a pumpkin. Problem was, my carriage didn’t know how to get home. Details. Again. I remembered hearing that the guy that had given me his seat at the restaurant, Adrian, lived near my hotel. And, as my luck that night would have it, he was incredibly crushable. Well, let’s just be honest. I already had a crush on him.
And then, as if he had read my mind, Adrian appeared out of nowhere. “Peggy!!”
“You’re walking me home, right?” I responded.
“Of course!”
My new friends and I left the club together, and then as quickly as they had come into my life, they disappeared. It was just Adrian and I crossing back over the Grand Canal. And I can now say, with certainty, that the romance of Venice is not just a myth. Whatever it is, whatever it was, we took the long way home.
And then, the knocking and shouting of the hotel maid asking if I needed a clean towel. The sun was up, everything was as I had left it. No sign at all of of my beautiful night in Venice.
I got up. I went to the Biennale. It was amazing. And as I was walking back to my hotel, I got a text. It was Adrian. So I guess it wasn’t a dream. But I haven’t seen any of my new friends again. I’ve had nights like these before…Dublin, Brooklyn, Denver, Rimini, Paris, Stockholm…but somehow Venice has been the most unforgettable.
The next day, a quiet Sunday in Venice.
The hardest thing about these incredible experiences and finding these wonderful people in their own environments is accepting that these experiences are unique, like a gift from the heavens. And trying to recreate them is like playing with fate.
But that doesn’t mean a girl can’t have a little hope.
I think the next one will be sooner than later. And if so, you’ll be the first to know…
What is it about the sound of the beach…the breeze, the drone of the ocean and the occasional squawk of a seagull that is powerful enough to make (almost) all of your worries melt away? And certainly powerful enough to motivate you to look slightly absurd holding a seashell to your ear once in a while, searching for that sound that can teleport you back to that beach where you can relax worry-less once again…at least for a few seconds.
Venice, Italy (photo by me)
I mean, certainly we don’t choose our vacations based on sound. But these sounds are rather powerful. Or a least more powerful than I had ever given them credit for.
Cinque Terre, Italy (photo by me)
It was an on an afternoon stroll on a quiet winter day in Venice’s Dorsoduro district on the last day of the Biennale, with not a soul in sight, that the unmistakable sound of small waves lapping against the sides of the canal and the repetitive thud of the boats shifting with the water that it finally hit me: I’m in Venice.
You would think this obvious fact would have hit me when I was walking through Piazza San Marco, watching the pigeons and the tourists (or more precisely, the pigeons playfully attacking the tourists), and perhaps some pretty notable architecture. Or at the very least when I was schlepping across the Grand Canal with motorboats whizzing by and gondolas drifting peacefully along.
Instead, it was on this nondescript canal, alone, that the reality of my environment hit me. And as I was walking along this canal in Venice, listening to these sounds of the boats and the waves, I thought of my second most unmistakable city sound. Waking up in Brooklyn, New York, to the echo of a car driving down narrow 4th St. and the familiar bump of the manhole lid as the tire rolled over it, voices shouting in the distance, and an inevitable car alarm sounding.
New York, NY (photo by me)
And then I thought of Bologna, Italy, and the sound of the rolling suitcases of the students bumping along the cobblestone streets on their way to and from their family homes in villages outside Bologna every weekend.
Bologna, Italy (photo by me)
And then Florence, and the overwhelming sound of American English speakers.
Florence, Italy (photo by me)
The indescribable and almost soundless sound of fresh snow falling in mass in the Italian Dolomites…
The echoing rolling wheels and clattering fall of a skateboard in San Diego…
San Diego, CA (photo by me)
And last but not least, in my hometown of El Centro, California, the peaceful receptive chirp of crickets follows you for months during the never-ending summers.
El Centro, CA (photo by me)
The more I think of these sounds, the more I am transported to these places. More than my usual memories of people or moments on vacations. The memories of these sounds have a way of attaching themselves to all the nuances of these places that you only really observe when you are alone. What are your favorite sounds? I’m curious…
We are thrilled to introduce our first of a series of videos about our travels around Europe and afar! Please check our YouTube channel! Our adventures aren’t the same without you guys to share all of our stories with.
Bologna is not the most famous city in Italy. It has no world-famous monuments or museums. There are no destination resorts or breathtaking seaside.
But Bologna is our home. And we love it. For good reasons I might add. Actually, for reasons so significant they beg the question: What makes a city famous? And what should make a city famous? Is what we need for living so different from what we want when we travel?
We think no. Because if there is anything we can be sure of when we travel, no matter where we go, no unforgettable travel story every started with, “So we were standing in front of this monument.” Ha! Instead, how do these travel tales that you tell for the rest of your life begin? Perhaps, “We wandered into this amazing restaurant,” or “We made some new friends that showed us the town….”
These are the experiences that you are going to find in Bologna. So if you are concerned with seeing some of the world’s most famous monuments, definitely don’t come here. But if you want to eat some pretty awesome food and make some new international friends, all on the backdrop of a undeniably medieval city, then don’t miss it. Seriously. Because what more can we ask from life than great food, new friends, and some medieval eye candy?
And for those of you who still aren’t convinced, here are Lena and I’s top reasons why we can’t live without Bologna…
1. The food Bologna is internationally famous for its cuisine. And with good reason. The food here is, well, excellent. Spaghetti Bolognese (tagliatelle al ragu), tortellini al brodo, lasagna, and mortadella (aka Baloney). Rich and decadent, don’t come here if you are on a diet. And if you do try the mortadella, you better bring some home with you…unless you are worried about making Oscar Meyer jealous. For a classic Bologna mortadella experience, try Tamburini (via Caprarie, 1), which is in the heart of the center of Bologna, and popular with the Bolognese. Another favorite of ours for mortadella is Marsalino (via Marsala, 13), with a hipper feel in contrast to the classic Tamburini, and a super cute staff that always makes sure you are taken care of.
2. Fun to be found at all times (except in August) In our humble opinion, what makes a city great is when the streets are filled with people enjoying life. And this is truly a signature of life in Bologna. Taking an afternoon stroll, hanging out with friends and family and enjoying the scene, almost nothing is powerful enough to keep people off the street in Bologna. Pick up a bottle of wine at one of Bologna’s plentiful enotecas, and head to the nearest piazza to relax and people-watch like the locals do.
3. Beauty in every nook and cranny Bologna boasts the typical Italian beauty – narrow, winding streets painted in bright warm colors, shuttered windows, wrought iron terraces. But what sets Bologna apart from the rest of Italy are its portici, otherwise known as arcades. These portici are multifunctional – easy on the eyes, and a godsend when bad weather abounds. Thanks to the portici, I don’t even own a functional umbrella.
4. The people We at Gracefully Global believe that traveling is about getting into the heart of the places we visit, which really means getting to know the people who make these places unique. Bologna is no exception – actually, Bologna’s heartbeat is undeniably the people who are on the streets every day and every night, in every shape and form, from around Italy and around the world. If you want to avoid large hoards of tourists and immerse yourself in the European experience, Bologna is a great place to begin. Once you’ve finished your bottle of wine and enjoyed the ambiance of the piazzas, just follow the crowd to the nearest pub. You’ll make friends in no time.
5. The aperitivo This is the simplest of explanations. We love Bologna because it is one of the few places in the world that a drink can buy you access to an all-you-can-eat dinner buffet. Buy one drink, and a light dinner buffet is included, for free, at many of Bologna’s most popular bar destinations. What more could we ask for (as starving students and English teachers that is…)? 😉 One of our favorite aperitivo destinations is Lab 16 (Via Zamboni, 16), located very close to Bologna’s famous two towers. They have copious amounts of food (the pizza is great!) served between 7:30pm and 10:00pm, with just a small surcharge on top of your drink purchase (and they have great fruit drinks for those that don’t drink alcohol). The best part is during the summer they set up tables in the small piazza in front of Lab 16, which happens to be one of my favorite perches in all of Bologna.
When deciding from long lists of potential vacation destinations seems to have less reason than throwing a dart at a dart board, a good potential mantra could be, “If it is good enough for George Clooney, it is good enough for me.” Such is the case with famed celebrity destination, Lake Como (Lago di Como), which is in Lombardy, Italy, near the Swiss border. While George Clooney was forced into selling his villa here several years ago due to ongoing paparazzi onslaughts, this area has long been a destination for real and quasi royalty, with a guest list boasting the likes of Pliny the Younger, John F. Kennedy, Mark Twain, and Tom Cruise.
Even the sidewalks are beautiful in the Lake Como region, here at Bellagio.
So what is so great about Lake Como? Who knows. But there is something undeniably charming about a grand, lazy lake, winding around rolling green hills dotted with tiny villages painted in pastel, with the occasional eloquent villa tucked around the bend. And to make matters better, after a day on the lake, a relaxing dinner of homemade pasta with black truffles and Tuscan wine awaits.
It was a rainy day at Lake Como, but still beautiful.
Bellagio is one of the famed villages in the community, accessible by a dependable network of boats serving most of the villages in the area, and boasting a namesake casino in Las Vegas that is nearly the same size as this tiny little town.
