A night in Fes fell between trips to the High Atlas and Italy and afforded me time to think about my upcoming stay in Bologna. This being my first trip to Italy (and also the first time to see an old friend in years), I got excited just thinking of how the next few days would pan out. Italian food, wine, beer and rich historical sites fueled my cultural curiosity, and my buddy Joe's old and new experiences peaked personal interest.
Before the Atlas trip, Joe and I didn't coordinate much. Basically, I sent him flight information and confirmed that I'd see him at the airport upon my arrival. Aside from exchanging phone numbers, we left the heavy details for later. Laying in bed prior to the flight, it hit me that I knew little about my old buddy aside from the fact that he's been in graduate school over the past year and he's seen a number of Iraq and Afghanistan deployments since we last saw each other in 2006. Sifting through some shared moments, my mind drifted to a piece of dialogue from Inglorious Basterds.
Joe not only resembles PFC Ulmer but - as he informed me last week - he speaks the same amount of Italian (this self-assessment later proved quite false). Despite random scenes of Tarantino's "masterpiece" stirring through my head, I quickly passed out before my flight.
The flight was a reasonable two and a half hours and gave me opportunity to consult my guidebook, piece together some useful information and loosen my belt buckle a couple notches. I didn't know much about Italy's culinary capital before cracking the digital pages of my guide except that an infamous processed meat originated there.
After some quick thumbing, however, I became familiar with its population (about 370,000), large university (and oldest in the world), political history ("left-wing militancy") and color (red - literally and somewhat figuratively in the past). After picking out a couple popular sites, I felt ready to immerse.
After my immersion, I left with four unique impressions of Bologna: it's an emotional (if not angry at times) city, the food met my high expectations, the students were awesome and the sites impressive (if not nauseating for spells). Regarding the first of these impressions, the people seem to have a lot on their minds!
What I saw of their actions matched how the city's official guide pamphlet described them: emotional. Entitled "Bologna: A City Full of Emotion," the official welcome exposed the city's penchant for political thought and activity. Home of the Italian Resistance during World War II and later the Italian Communist Party, Bologna was also described as a traditional center for "left-wing militancy."
On the first day, I observed a large, police-controlled demonstration (manifestation in Europe) that closed off a few roads and public squares (piazzas). After a few hours, the peaceful movement (for which I'm still ignorant of its goals) took to the streets, echoing chants along the way.
A short time later along a walk to one of the universities, I was struck by the population's more permanent need to express their views (and the government's apparent tolerance of it) as we passed a string of graffiti-lined walls under most of the porticoes and side streets. Though the messages didn't necessarily appear political, these were not Brussels' cartoon-lined buildings.
At the university, it was also brought to my attention that the American campus was specifically put in Bologna as a western bastion to "combat" Communist thought some fifty years ago.
The second day brought about a few related sights. First - and not limited to Bologna - a strike halted the nation's trains. Next, a walk through the main piazza exposed another manifestation and finally, I was struck by a fairly provocative display against animal cruelty. Apparently needing a break, the demonstrators took Sunday off.
Regardless of the brief reprieve, after three days I found myself wanting to describe the emotions I witnessed as angry. But after only a long weekend of these sights, I'm content to give the people a little benefit and endorse the word guides used to describe them: emotional. Being in Morocco for the past few months, I can appreciate the descriptor.
Though intriguing, these emotions didn't compare to a couple others evoked by food and colleagues!
Before the Atlas trip, Joe and I didn't coordinate much. Basically, I sent him flight information and confirmed that I'd see him at the airport upon my arrival. Aside from exchanging phone numbers, we left the heavy details for later. Laying in bed prior to the flight, it hit me that I knew little about my old buddy aside from the fact that he's been in graduate school over the past year and he's seen a number of Iraq and Afghanistan deployments since we last saw each other in 2006. Sifting through some shared moments, my mind drifted to a piece of dialogue from Inglorious Basterds.
Lt. Aldo Raine: Well, I speak the most Italian, so I'll be your escort. Donowitz speaks the second most, so he'll be your Italian cameraman. Omar speaks third most, so he'll be Donny's assistant.
Pfc. Omar Ulmer (aka Dominic Decoco): I don't speak Italian.
Lt. Aldo Raine: Like I said, third best. Just keep your f**kin' mouth shut. In fact, why don't you start practicing, right now!
A little dark, but me and Dominic Decoco the next day.
The flight was a reasonable two and a half hours and gave me opportunity to consult my guidebook, piece together some useful information and loosen my belt buckle a couple notches. I didn't know much about Italy's culinary capital before cracking the digital pages of my guide except that an infamous processed meat originated there.
After some quick thumbing, however, I became familiar with its population (about 370,000), large university (and oldest in the world), political history ("left-wing militancy") and color (red - literally and somewhat figuratively in the past). After picking out a couple popular sites, I felt ready to immerse.
A look at Italy's"Red City" from the city's foremost basilica.
What I saw of their actions matched how the city's official guide pamphlet described them: emotional. Entitled "Bologna: A City Full of Emotion," the official welcome exposed the city's penchant for political thought and activity. Home of the Italian Resistance during World War II and later the Italian Communist Party, Bologna was also described as a traditional center for "left-wing militancy."
Located in the major piazza, the Resistance Movement Memorial pays homage to its founding members.
Part of the mobile manifestation, singing and chanting through downtown.
Porticoes line most streets, but I saw none as intricately painted as this one.
Some graffiti...
...and some more...
...even trash receptacles weren't safe.
Established in 1088, Bologna University is hailed as either the oldest university in the world or western world. Now, it's Italy's largest with over 100,000 students.
Free your mind, but cage your actions.
Though intriguing, these emotions didn't compare to a couple others evoked by food and colleagues!
Oh, my!! I just flipped through the album of Bologna pics and the food images left me drooling! I may have to find a margarita pizza tonight.
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