A window (una finestra) of La Torre Asinelli.


A view to the east from the top of the tower.


The church of San Petronio.


Final ceramics pieces at the festival in Faenza.

There are so many things that are different in Italy, little things like people putting their arm out into the street for the bus to stop and big things like trains that are used by everyone. Coffee cups are smaller, cars are tiny, and there are shops that sell loafs of fresh bread in the morning for 1 euro that I am a sucker for.

I went to buy a phone on Thursday (telephonino) and, after telling the attendant in a very roundabout way that I just wanted the cheap phone that all the other students get, I stepped outside and realized I was beside the two towers at the center of Bologna. I thought 'Why not?' and walked over to the entrance to the largest one, La Torre Assinelli, and started to climb the stairs. And I climbed. And climbed. All of the steps were super sketchy: they were made of wood and tiny and the staircases were very narrow as they wound up the tower. Looking out over the side, it seemed as if I might fall forever through the center of the tower as I slipped. There were holes in the side of the tower which I would pass by. Every time, I would be startled by the rush of wind through the holes. At first I thought they had to do with some attempt at maintaining the structural integrity of the tower, but now I think they were meant to keep the tower cool on this warm day. The inside of the tower was dim and dark, but a good dark.

On the way up, there were porticoed windows evenly spaced along the ascent so that I got glimpses of the city as my legs got sorer. Each time I felt like I could stare out the window for ages. There was one window in particular that stood out in my mind. This window opened up from the dim interior of the tower into the bright daylight of Bologna, and people had thrown coins up to 2 Euro onto the window ledge. Beyond the coins were the red roofs of Italy, and old crumbling bricks surrounded the window, the tower, and pretty much everything. There was something symbolic about this image that I am still trying to figure out.

Finally I made it to the top, and the wind that had blown against the tower on the way up was even stronger up here. The hot day was balanced by the cool wind. The view was amazing and stretched beyond the perifery (la periferia) of Bologna into the landscape beyond. On the edge, the red roofs stopped and the modern looking factories and buildings began. I struck a very cool pose on one of the ledges and looked out on the city while a few other tourist made their way around the platform. Below me I could see all of the buildings that make up the living spaces of thousands of people crammed into this tiny area. The most beautiful shades of each color are chosen to paint the walls of this city, and they all go well with the red tiled roofs. Bologna is very three-dimensional, and people are packed into each living space. People live behind the shades that open onto each street, and many even live in quarters below the street.

Looking east from the tower I saw the agricultural plain spread out, but to the west the green foothills of the Appenines beckoned. Tucked away in the hills are seemingly random beautiful buildings which I must visit before my time here is up. Domes and columns seem to just pop out of the green sea.

Below me I could see the unfinished front of the San Petronio church. The Catholic Church wanted to build a great big amazing cathedral here back in the day, but funds were diverted to pay for another project and the front scaffold is only half finished. The part that is done looks beautiful covered with inset sculptures but the rest looks just like the side of the tower, crumbling brick. San Petronio was part of the impetus for Martin Luther's growing disdain for the profligacy (right word?) of the Catholicism back in the day. From the top of the tower, the building is only one part of a huge city, but on the ground and from the inside it looks huge as well. I have not made it yet to the inside, but I hope to later today.

After looking for long enough I made my way down the spiraling staircase, past the windy holes in the tower and the window covered with money. I tried to make a joke about getting an elevator with the worker at the bottom and failed miserably. I feel like I'm a pretty funny person, but making a joke is difficult when it takes so long to form the words.

I later found out that it is unlucky for students to go to the top of the tower before the semester begins . Whatever. There used to be over 200 towers built by wealthy nobles in Bologna during the height of the Renaissance or the peak the city's wealth or something, and only a handful of them are still standing. I am not sure whether they crumbled into dust or whether they were taken down to make room for more tiny apartments and shops. Several of the towers still standing are visible from the top of La Torre Asinelli, and for some reason they remind me of the statues of Easter Island. Rich people long ago built these tall buildings I guess to declare their wealth to the world, like great big monuments to their money. In many instances this part of human nature seems to continue to this day, maybe taking other forms. Beats me, I'm just a student.

I didn't figure out how to turn my phone on until two days after, and now I have the numbers of my three roomates, a bunch of other exchange students, and the Italian girl I met on the plane ride in my phone. Saturday I travelled to Ravenna by bus with other Erasmus students and spent most of the time trying to keep the conversation going with a German girl so that I could practice my Italian. The beach was covered with bars and nightclubs that stretched for long distances in either direction along the shore. Although I had imagined the Italian coast to be full of light brown rocks jutting out of the water surrounded by beautiful aquamarine water, the Mediterranean in this area was dark brown and reminded me of the water on the Outer Banks of North Carolina. We all sat on the sand because the nice beach chairs cost lots of money and I left my stuff with some friends and jumped in the ocean. The beach was very wide and the slope very shallow, and there were no dunes like in North Carolina. All of the chairs were evenly spaced up to the water and made a grid pattern that is visible in Google Earth. I splashed for a while on the beach then headed back to shore to eat the hard day old bread I bought with Nutella. If bread is not eaten within a day it gets very hard, but this can be resolved by putting it in the microwave (micronde) for a while as I discovered last night. The wind blew hard on the beach and sand got into everything; I am still wiping it out of my ears.

I played some kind of paddle game with a group of German girls who would only speak German if they did not want me to know what they were saying, then I played a game of foosball, bought a beer, and kicked back to wait for the party to start. When it did, I moved to the nightclub next door where there were fake palm trees on which different colors of light danced like the people around them. I took a place on a wooden platform and danced for a long time. Dancing in Italy is interesting because many girls dress scantily and dance like crazy but reject guys every time they try to make a move. I was just doing my own thing and sometimes moving into groups with other exchange students but... ANYway, suffice it to say that I danced for a long time. The bus ride back was long at 2 AM and I caught the night bus home from the station with a guy from Britain and a guy from Australia. I stood up most of the time so I could feel the sway of the bus, the acceleration and deceleration, in my body, like being buffeted around by forces beyond my control.

Sunday was a tad of a catastrope. I set out in the morning to go to a festival in Faenza, which is east of Bologna, but I ended up making timely mistakes with the bus and the train. I had never been to an European train station before, and no other Erasmus students had expressed interest in going with me so I was trying to make it to the festival alone. I made all the mistakes: confusing departures and arrival, going to the wrong platform, and waiting for a long time for a train that would never come. I kept thinking how many of my friends would have figured it out by now. Problem is, I'm not my friends. I'm me, and I make mistakes, and I am beginning to just smile and be okay with that.

I finally caught the right train and headed towards the ceramics festival, where I was expecting to see master pot makers from around the world make these enormous clay creations. Out the window, many of the fields we passed by were plowed with great big chunks of dirt tossed up all around. Some had been dried by the sun to a light brown color and some were still dark. I like to imagine that at some point in the drying out the dirt is the same color as the roofs of the decaying houses. Trees bordered all of the fields, Poplars I think, to protect against the wind.

In Faenza fall was coming, and I walked down the main street to the Museo Internazionale delle Ceramiche. I was very hungry, and after getting directions from the worker at the front I walked to the Pizza del Popolo and had un panino vegetale at a cafe looking over the Piazza. I thought that the great competition between the pot makers was supposed to take place at 6, so I settled down to read and chill out. It was quiet at first, but all of a sudden people crowded the cafe and an Italian woman sat across from me. She asked questions in her Italian dialect about what I was doing in Italy, what I would be studying, the usual, as she drank her cappucino, then she wished me tanti auguri and left for home.

I walked over to the festival at 6, but for some reason I missed the competition and now they were simply auctioning off final pieces. What a failure of a day! I made my way back slowly to the train station, got on a crowded train headed back for Bologna, and stood the whole time with my head resting on the baggage shelf.

Now I know how the train station works at least, and I am still set on buying a nice bike and touring around this country. Buying a bike for the city is strange because they get stolen and resold so often. Apparently creepy guys on bikes shlalom slowly up and down the Via Zamboni at certain hours of the day and just sell the bikes they are on for 20 euro or so. I think I am going to buy one bike for touring and one for the city so that my nice bike does not get ganked.

Today I hope to see San Petronio and to go look at a nearby bike store. We will see how it goes. I have learned to make coffee in our tiny coffee maker, to light the stove using a lighter, to wash dishes in the tiny sink and to open our front door in the dark. I have had a hard time adjusting to the amount of food that is eaten at my apartment though because I am used to eating so much and my housemates (i coinqualini) seem to eat very little. But I will get over it, for mine is a heart made of steel! I also went to the library yesterday right next to the Fontana di Nettuno, and on the library floor there are glass tiles which allow pedestrians to see through to the old library made of bricks that lies beneath. Old Italy and New Italy.

I have more I could say, but I don't want to get carpel tunnel and I want to look at bikes now. Ciao tutti!