Bologna, a surprising city trip, May 2013

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At very short notice, we decided to visit Bologna, also known as La Dotta (The Learned), La Grassa (The Fat), and La Rossa (The Red). The first refers to the oldest university in the world (also a city of books and libraries), the second to Bologna as Italy's gastronomic capital—think bolognese and mortadella, for example. The third, originally to the red roofs of the medieval city, once the world's third-largest, later to the left-leaning political climate there, as evidenced by the memorable bombing of the train station in 1980 by right-wing extremists.

Thursday

We're leaving Bruges's Holy Blood Day behind for a trip to Charleroi, of all places . With a 6:25 a.m. morning flight, a cheap train and a €37 night in a Best Western hotel is a better solution than getting up ungodly early and driving.

We're escorted from the station by a group of green-black, exuberant, and noisy hordes of Cercle supporters taking the train to Brussels for the football cup final against Genk. I have no idea how someone who spends the afternoon singing, shouting, and drinking constantly manages to make it through the evening. We briefly visit Charleroi city center, but the city is deserted… There's little worth seeing, but we knew that. Urban development is progressing here, but the rest is yet to come. In a pleasant conversation, the friendly barmaid confirms to me the crime, vandalism, unemployment, inefficiency, and nuisance, but I decide not to get depressed. That evening, Cercle fights bravely and sadly falls.

Friday

5:00 a.m. the next morning. Dark. Silence. No one. Our taxi consists of two (two!) enormous men, the second of whom (a bodyguard for us?) looks like the character you see in gangster movies when the bandit boss says something like, " Enrico, I'll take care of you." In short, we don't feel comfortable.

Ryanair. Cheap. Departs on time. But the system leads to all sorts of chaos. For example, the hand luggage that's measured. A businessman has a mini-duffel bag and a laptop. Not allowed. The laptop has to go in the bag. Not possible. Problem. If he had had a larger bag and put both in it, he wouldn't have reached half the permitted volume. A full Boeing 737 and everyone with a maximum hand luggage limit—can't they all fit in the overhead bins? Never! And the unassigned seats. The result: luggage sometimes stacks quite a distance away, and then the human traffic in the narrow corridor is constantly short-circuiting. Nervousness. Pushing. Trampled feet. It's funny that, to generate commercial revenue, all sorts of things are constantly being sold back and forth, but no one is interested or has exact cash. This is truly a vol-o-venture.

But 3 1/2 hours later we are already in the center, looking for Le Stanze del Carro, an uneasy-to-find and highly unusual B&B, run by three young ladies. Our Marco Polo room has a bunk bed, while the bathroom, like a high throne, requires climbing, and the noise from inside rivals the noise of the street at night. As a reward for our troubled sleep, we receive a practically nonexistent breakfast. That very afternoon, we make a deal with the Best Western Hotel San Donato, less than 100 meters away, which still has availability on Sunday and Monday nights. That was our original plan, but it turns out it's booked for the weekend. The hotel offers a stunning 360° panoramic view of the city. A bar and breakfast are served on a terrace overlooking the ochre, yellow, brown, and red hues of the roofs and houses, including churches and the many (leaning) towers. Pisa, eat your heart out .

We explore the city center with its Piazza Maggiore, the magnificent Palazzo dell'Archiginnasio with its 700 coats of arms and all sorts of decorations, as well as the narrow streets lined with delicatessens that assault our visual taste buds. In the old Tamburi, I find myself with my head among the sausages. We search for a trattoria for the locals, whose drink prices are certainly a far cry from those of the touristy terraces in the sun. Once again, I realize that good food is expensive here.

Saturday

I'm taking a city bus to the station to pick up our Erasmus daughter, Tanya, who's coming over for a day from Lugano, Switzerland. Via Milan and the Freccia Rossa = 300 km in 1 hour and 50 seconds. Bologna's stazione still has an old clock at that fateful hour. There she is. Flying into my arms. A cozy, cuddle-filled day awaits in a bustling city. Lamborghini is displaying hundreds of cars in Piazza Maggiore. A buzz of activity. A lively atmosphere. Bologna is firmly committed to a car-free city center on Saturdays and Sundays, which entails a completely different public transport plan, but it works. We're inquiring about the local, non-touristy, upscale trattoria to eat, among other things (of course!), the real tagliatelle bolognese.

When the owner of the Belfiore understands our nature, he suggests: "Lasciami fare." Let me do it! We eat four assaggini (small portions) of pasta dishes. Our good man brings a sip of red wine with the tortellini. Old people do that to enhance the flavor, he claims. And indeed, it's remarkable. With a bottle of sparkling Pinoletto from the hills and a clear amaro, we feel like we're participating in a culinary feast, and the price is ridiculous. In the afternoon, we take another walk and visit, among other things, San Stefano, a remarkable church that actually consists of seven churches, built on and next to each other over time. Remarkably historical. We finish with an authentic mega-pizza and push our daughter onto the train at 9:30 PM. Luckily, we'll see her again within a week; then the internship abroad will be over. Another long walk and a balmy evening on a terrace to round off one of the best days of my life.

Sunday: We're moving to San Donato, where we're paying considerably less (€76 per night including breakfast) than at the cluttered, chaotic B&B. It's a lovely hotel with fantastic views. We're strolling, enjoying aperitifs, and then we're being pampered again at Belfiore with new tastings, but keeping things simple in the evening. It's been great; I've just managed to get back under 80 kg, but I'm afraid…

Monday

With the open-top tourist bus, we give the rest of Bologna a chance to see the sights. The eternal arcades and buildings are a UNESCO-recognized heritage site. Charming and underrated. It deserves to be placed alongside Venice, Florence, and Rome. Long antipasti in the sun and a friturra mista di pesce (fish), a siesta, and in the evening, chatting on the terrace of the square in front of the hotel in this super student city with a Polish, Californian, and Russian student. Wonderful. But we'll have to go to bed early, because we have another morning flight at 6:50 a.m. and… an icy, drizzly little frog country.

More photos on Flickr: http://www.flickr.com/photos/wimvanbesien/sets/72157633510399802/