My three big take-aways from my first Italian trip were my experiences with the people: political activism (so to speak), food and the optimism displayed by my hosts, the students of SAIS, Bologna. The city itself, however, also provided enough for the senses.
The Piazza Maggiore, the main public square in the heart of Bologna. Hosting music festivals, demonstrations and just a common area to meet, the piazza was always busy.
The Basilica di San Petronio is a cathedral housing a couple of old timing instruments from the 15th and 16th centuries. The older of the two is marked by sun entering from the eastern face along a meridian that runs along most of the interior.
Part of the crowd in the main piazza.
The Civic Art Collection sat along the main piazza and housed an impressive array of art.
The entrance to the exhibit.
The mosaics along the walls and ceilings of the exhibit were so intricate and extravagant that I initially lost appreciation for their grandeur.
A 14th century bronze statue.
One of the exhibit's ceilings.
..."excuse, no flash!"
Sitting adjacent to the Piazza Maggiore, the Piazza del Nettuno is home to Neptune's fountain, which was sculpted by the Giambologna in 1566.
The city's prominent monument.
One of the town's cathedrals.
Sitting atop a hill on the outskirts of town, the Madonna of San Luca overlooks the city from the south about 290m above sea level. The first stone sanctuary here was blessed in Rome in 1194, while the large dome was later constructed in 1747.
Part of the view from San Luca, overlooking one of the city's portocoes.
Our walk mile-long down the hill from San Luca felt a lot better than the walk (or jog) up appeared from the looks of oncoming "traffic," as they made their Sunday morning pilgrimage up the portocoe-covered walk.
The Two Towers are some of the last remaining of the original 400 that once rose over the city. Brought down by disrepair, earthquakes and war, most of the destroyed structures have been built over in recent generations. Built between 1109 and 1119, the taller of the two towers, Asinelli, was open to tourists.
The shorter of the two towers, Forli, leans as if in Piza.
A view through the 97m Asinelli Tower.
The tower's stairs didn't appear to have been refurbished since the tower's construction, making someone not terribly fond of heights even less so.
The stairs were well warped, grooved and polished from years of use, only deep enough for half of a foot's use.
Looking down the spiraling staircase. It's good to be reminded of our apprehensions every now and then. I was revisited by one of mine during a rather routine trip up the tower: my fear of heights. I've largely conquered this childhood apprehension over the years. However, when faced with the unknown - or unproven - my stomach still churns. It was churning at about step #100 afer seeing the neighboring leaning tower of Forli and remembering an account of how Italy has historically hosted more earthquakes than any other nation. As I stepped up the creaking and moaning warped steps, I wasn't comforted by the fact that thousands of tourists and workers have made the same ascent yearly without incident; rather, the subsequently-worn steps further exacerbated my anxiety.
The payoff to overcoming my uneasy gut was worth it though, if only briefly. As I passed my companions on my way down, I informed them that I was, "getting off this thing before it falls," snapped a couple of keepsakes and raced back down the steps before I could truly enjoy the gentle breeze atop the tower.
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