Marvelous little white cotton balls. It’s springtime in Bologna. As I walk into la Bibliotheca Universitaria I pass a small piazza inside the library, where the sun caresses a statue of Neptune and weightless flakes of cotton dizzily dance around him. I reach the entrance and walk through grand oak doors and present my id, then I place my purse and valuables in a locker (this is customary to put your things in a locker and carry the necessary computer or notebook into the library in a clear plastic bag.) The manuscritti and rari (rare and manuscripts) are all help in the grand Aula Magna. Established by the Pope at the beginning of the 18th century, open to the public in 1756, this space is a luscious yet tastefull accumulation of the then Pope’s private collection. Over the years, dukes and priests and other aristocrats have given their collection to this library. A few decades later it became the place where students studied. It looks like a beautiful ballroom for books. The walls are covered with tall handcrafted wooden bookshelves. There is just something about these books, that lived through the years of Napoleon, touched by Dukes, Cardinals and the Pope, and you can’t help but lose your words and smile in wonder and reverence of the space and the history. And it happens that the nicest librarians work here. Signora Miani, a most elegant and eloquent lady explained the history of the library, along with helping me find the 3 libretti on my list. I told her that next week I will be in Modena. She tells me to salute her friend Signora Ricci there, and that hopefully Signora Ricci can lend me a hand.
Today is also my last day in Bologna. For now at least. I have 4 hours until my train leaves for Milano. I am feeling a little bit frantic. Not only is there still more work to be done here, but I don’t want to leave. Bologna has made an impression on me, its stamp grows more prominent, more ornate, and more personal. At first Bologna seemed a little overwhelming. Over 200,000 students roam these streets, groups of students meander in the piazzas, joking, laughing, eating piadine and gelato. After a week I have met some students and feel less like the new kid in town, the stranger, the black sheep, whatever you want to call it, that feeling has passed and I am happy to be amidst the happy-go-lucky youth of Italia.
That’s another wonderful thing about Bologna: the culture of the young 20 somethings that live here is so dynamic. There is a bar called Transylvania where you find ladies with those spikey black leather dog collars and spiked punk mohawks. Just around the corner is the Irish pub where you find diehard soccer lovers sporting their teams t-shirt. a little bit down the road is Piazza Verdi where the hippies hang out, smoking, drinking beer, relaxing in the sun. In the other direction on Via Zamboni near the Two Towers are some really classy cafés where the Prada, Gucci, and Mont Blanc frequent. Everyone wears sneakers, and if not sneakers then true Italian leather boots. Here a pair of converse costs 96 Euros. I told my friend Luca that I could get them in the states for 40 bucks if he wanted me to… The kids are also very vocal about politics. Down the street from the opera house in Piazza Verdi there is graffiti “la nostra crisi non si pagano: viva il communismo” basically remarking that life isn’t good enough and we need a change in the political scene. Last night there was a rally inside the piazza of the school of law where a punk band plaid, cigarette smoke hung like smog, and students shared a beer in the name of communism. I didn’t attend because at the time I passed the rally it was already late and I could barely keep my eyes open, but it seemed like it would have been a very interesting experience at the very least… And here in Bologna all of Italy is represented. The other night I met some students from Sardinia, Calabria, Rome, Venezia, Rimini, and of course Bologna. Therefore it’s a great opportunity to test your Italian. You hear slang, a sack of different dialects and everywhere you turn students are taking a pause for a caffé and a conversation.
And a great conversation is what I had yesterday. It wasn’t with a student or a Bolognese, but rather an American. This young and very very bright young scholar from Yale who was pursueing his passion of off the wall seventeenth century Italian literature has been working in the same library as I have been for the past three mornings. Since we were both studying the seventeenth century, though different subjects, I thought it could be a great to do dinner. Eric is a fellow through an American Institute similar to the Rome prize, where he lives with 20 other scholars, artists, and musicians on a commune looking overlooking Rome. There they have a sustainable garden and live in serenity and stimulation. Over tortellini floating in butter, and veal Bolognese we talked about the wonder of the seventeenth century. The wonders of Italy. Why in a time transitioning between the Renaissance and Enlightenment, a point that some scholars felt produced works of bad taste, really produced some of the Italy’s best contributions to music, literature, science and philosophy. Today we are constantly reviving plays, celebrating the music of our past, and I think that it is great we have such a rich well of history to delve into. Yet in the 1600s you wouldn’t dream of performing something that had already been performed. So every social happening, every marriage, birthday, new cardinals and such was an opportunity for a new play or a new opera. Wouldn’t that be cool if a friend of yours wrote you an opera complete with a ballet of knights on horses in celebration of your matrimony?
And now I need to sign off, this installment is already way too long, but as always I find myself wandering around with my eyes poised on the buildings, the colors, the smells, the sounds of the vespas, and all the while trying not to wander into Italians hoping to be able to capture everything I experience so I can share it with you. Buona notte.
