San Luca...and Sara

After eating my way through Bologna, I decided to explore the city and burn some calories. And oh baby, did I ever!

Bologna is beautiful.  The sidewalks throughout the city are covered by beautiful, arched porticos.

In many places, the undersides of the porticos have gorgeous frescoes painted on them. I spent hours walking while staring up at the gorgeous ceilings. I *may* have crashed into a few people, but can you blame me? Look at these ceilings!

The porticos began out of necessity.  The worlds first university, the University of Bologna, was founded here in 1008. As the university population grew, the city needed more space.  Home owners began "bumping" their homes out above the sidewalks, creating the first porticos. Over time, the government created a set of guidelines...they had to be wide enough for several people to walk next to each other and tall enough that a man on his horse could walk through without dismounting.

That's when the portico culture in Bologna took off!

There is no greater example of the beauty and function of the porticos than The Portico of San Luca, a 3.7km (2.3mi) covered stretch of porticos that winds its way up the side of a mountain.
A popular pilgrim route for the devout to visit the Madonna,  I decided to hike the route, enjoy a unique experience and burn off some ragu!

                                 Part of the San Luca path, with the Sanctuary di San Luca at the top center of the photo

The Portico of San Luca is the largest covered portico in the world and contains 666 arches.  The path was built to protect the miraculous icon of the Madonna (photo at end) during the yearly procession to the cathedral in the center of Bologna (where the icon resides during the week of Ascension) up the hill to the The Sanctuary of the Madonna di San Luca (where it resides the other 51 weeks of the year). They couldn't very well let the Madonna get rained on!

When the church isn't using the San Luca path to transport the Madonna, it's travelled by pilgrims, local Bolognese in need of a good workout and the occasional fearless tourist...like me!

I knew it would be a somewhat strenuous hike and mentally prepared myself for tons of stairs and climbing.  It STILL took me by surprise, you guys.  It starts off relatively flat and easy. I strolled along, admiring the beauty of the archways, the city center, smiling at people as they passed by me.

But after a few kilometers, the path begins to climb up the mountain...and from that point on, the climb never stops.

                                            Where the San Luca path begins to climb up the mountain... 

Some sections are moderate (below), while others are so steep you can barely walk up them. I found myself thinking "Come on! This is way too steep. This should just be stairs!"

                               

And then, I regretted thinking that because suddenly, the steep ascent turns into stairs. And when I say stairs, I mean hundreds and hundreds of stairs. The stairs stretch farther ahead than you can even see. 

I understand why they call San Luca a pilgrimage hike.  Devoutly religious people train their thoughts on God during the tough moments of the hike. I am not a religious person, so my thoughts bounced around, my brain looking for something to distract me from the task at hand.

I thought of my travels, my family and my friends at home. I thought of a friend going through a trying time and made a note to text him when I got back to my hotel. And then I found myself thinking of Sara.

For the last 18 months, my friend Sara was the best workout buddy, boot camp buddy, HIIT workout buddy and triathlon buddy a girl could ask for. We squatted, ran, swam, biked and planked for hours on end. We challenged, supported and pushed each other through workouts. Sara would challenge me to do ridiculous things like 75 consecutive squats. "No way! I can't do 75 squats!" I'd protest. Sara always smiled (or was it smirking?) said the same thing,"Yes, you can."

It was so annoying.  Sara was always right.

I could always do the number of squats she came up with, or the number of crunches, or medicine ball tosses, or curls. I could, in fact, run up the hill by Georgia Tech that I thought was impossible. I could do 75 squats. I could hold plank another 5 seconds. She seemed to know that my body would do whatever I demanded if I'd just get my head right.

So on the cold January day in Bologna, I thought of Sara and the list of titles I'd added to my list in the last year. Triathlete. Runner. Squatter. Boot-camper. Bad ass.  My thighs screamed in protect as I climbed onward. I thought "I don't think I can do this."
I heard Sara's voice saying "Yes, you can."

At one point, I paused to catch my breath and 2 very fit and very glamorous Italian women passed me as they headed down the mountain. They asked if I was okay and informed me that the next section was the most strenuous. They suggested in broken English that perhaps I shouldn't continue?

For a moment, I tried to see myself as they must have seen me.  An out-of-breath, chubby American girl, probably a couch potato,  bent over, sucking wind, red faced. A girl like me has no (apparent) business hiking San Luca!

I was suddenly annoyed. I stood up and flashed them a smile.  I almost suffocated as I forced myself to breathe normally. "No, I'm perfectly fine, thank you," I said and while they exchanged a worried glance between them, I started climbing again.

Sure, my thighs touch. But they are also big, strong and muscular.  I've earned titles recently.  I'm a triathlete! I'm a runner!  I am a bad ass!

As if on cue, the universe responded.  Just outside the portico on the road, an older Italian man easily passed me RUNNING and waved. A few moments later, he was followed by a guy on a bike, who stayed in the saddle on the way up and SMILED at me as he passed.

Show-offs.

I kept going.
After climbing for about 40 minutes, I turned a corner and saw a huge set of stairs. Just as I'd been told, the end of San Luca is obvious. There is a light at the end of the tunnel...literally!  And if you squint (or zoom your camera), you can just barely make out a cross.

If Sara was here, she'd tell me to run these stairs.  And she'd probably smirk at me. That's the thing about our friends. Their voices are with us even when we're half a world away, on the top of a mountain, facing a huge flight of stairs when your thighs feel like Jell-o.

"I cannot possibly run these stairs..." I thought.
And this time it was my voice.  "Yes you can."
So I ran. And I counted.
162 stairs and it was all over. I was at the cross. I almost kissed it.

                                                                              Big smiles at the top of San Luca...

The view from on top of San Luca is spectacular (my photos don't do it justice at all).

And of course, you can visit the exquisite Sanctuary of the Virgin Mary, overlooking the city of Bologna.

Inside is beautiful...

And last, but not least, you have to pay a visit to the Madonna painting that inspired The Portico of San Luca's creation.
                                             

                                 The San Luca Madonna painting, secure beneath it's protective metal covering.

I stood quietly for a few minutes, admiring the painting and catching my breath. Suddenly, it occurred to me that I'd earned a new title.  I glanced around and realized I was all alone. Just me and Mary.

"Hey Mary," I whispered in the quiet sanctuary.  "I'm a pilgrim."

I could have sworn she smiled (smirked) at me.

Bologna: foodie paradise

Jan 27-29

Buongiorno from Bologna, Italy!  I'm in Italy during the off-season, so it's cold, rainy and snowing during my 3 days in Bologna. For the first few days, I decide focus on one of Bologna's most famous exports...FOOD!

There are very few regions in the world more famous for food than the Emilia-Romagna region of Italy...home to the cities of Bologna, Parma and Modena.

Parma is famous for parmigiano cheese and prosciutto crudo di Parma (Parma ham).

Modena is the birthplace of balsamic vinegar and calamari ripieni di calmareti (little squid seasoned, chopped, mixed with rice and stuffed into big squid!)

But, dear readers, I am in the delicious, gorgeous city of Bologna....!  And Bologna is the undisputed king of food.

I spent an afternoon wandering around the area called the Quadrilatero, an area known for it's tiny, medieval streets lined with food shops.

At the produce stands, I'm dazzled by the selection.

 I'm amazed at the massive lemons and huge, grapefruit sized oranges.

There are charming little shops for milk and cheese (latterias) and shops for meat, particularly interesting with ceilings full of hanging, curing meats.

Each shop also has a display of available dried or fresh pasta.

Bologna is famous for creating the delicious stuffed shells known as tortellini, so they're on display everywhere, both in the shops and on signs in front of restaurants.

Bologna also created the larger stuffed cousin to tortellini,  tortelloni.

The Bolognese people also created bolognese, or meat sauce, which the Bolognese people call ragù. Before the people of Bologna created ragù, pasta sauce was just tomato sauce! Thank you, Bologna!

Lasagna was also created here. Delicious, layered cheesy goodness called lasagna! This yummy dish is one of my all-time favorites...!

And finally...the city of Bologna is famous for... bologna! Here, they call it mortadella sausage and it is MUCH yummier than the American version of bologna. It's a mild, slightly sweet meat served primarily at breakfast alongside salami and croissants. (Italians don't eat eggs at breakfast.)  Mortadella sausage is delicious!

So there you have it! These are just a few reasons why Bologna is called the gastronomic paradise of Italy. If you're in Italy, I strongly recommend a visit. Just be sure to wear loose pants!

Caio!

Romeo, Juliet and the velcro pigs

Several years ago, my mom and I each bought copies of "1,000 Places To See Before You Die" and have used it as a travel bible of sorts. We always consult the well thumbed pages of the Big Book to make sure when we visit a place, we hit all the "can't miss" destinations. Mom and I check items off the list as we visit them.   We even compare the number of places we've each been (mom is currently in the lead, but I hope to pass her soon...!)

This past Saturday, we decided to check out the fair city of Verona, Italy.  A quick 30 minute train ride and we arrive. And are shocked.  The Big Book made it sound like a sleepy little town whose primary draw was simply the Romeo & Juliet story.  (I secretly hope to find some small mention of Gnomio and Juliet in the town, the adorable animated take on the love story, though I keep that tidbit to myself. Ha!)

The big book also mentions opera performances in the summer, but since we're there in January, we know that won't be possible.  As we walk into the historic center of Verona, it becomes clear the book didn't full prepare us for Verona.

The historical center of Verona is large, beautiful and has many attractions and museums to keep us busy for several days, not just an afternoon.

There are several big museums, one of which has a Monet exhibit (one of my mom's favorites!). We briefly consider visiting it, but the Saturday afternoon throngs keep us away.  A serpentine river running lazily through the town, creating beautiful vistas and showcasing medieval bridges.

Verona is also home to the arena, a 2,000 year old Roman amphitheater that houses opera performances in the summer. We're visiting in January, so unfortunately, this isn't an option for us, but can you imagine?  It must be spectacular!

We decide that Verona might warrant a second trip and decide to focus our efforts on the Romeo & Juliet story. There are plenty of options including Juliet's house, balcony, tomb, plus Romeo's house and tomb.  We focus on Juliet's house, statue and balcony. It's a beautiful Saturday afternoon and the town is crowded with locals and tourists window shopping and hoping for a glance at Juliet's balcony.

A 10 minute walk through the city takes you to Juliet's house and the balcony where she stood listening to her Romeo, below. He is said to have whispered lovely sentiments and declaring his undying love for her. I remember that Romeo & Juliet were about 13-15 years old and suddenly, I'm thinking of my earliest romances in middle/high school, a lifetime ago.

As I walk among throngs the streets of Verona, I think back and suddenly remember a pair of adorable plush pigs given to me by one of my first boyfriends. The red and white pair had velcro on the hands and the mouths, so when joined, they were perpetually kissing and holding hands.  I loved those cute little pigs, a sweet symbol from one of my very first Romeos!

As I silently wonder what happened to those pigs, suddenly, I look up and we've arrived at The House of Juliet.

We follow the crowd under an old stone archway and into a dark tunnel. What looks like graffiti is Juliet's wall, where people from all over the world sign their names, ensuring their love will last forever. I watch as my parents sign their names.

The archway opens into a courtyard. On the right, Juliet's house.  The balcony itself is quite small, but beautiful. 

I wander over to the wall of locks. Lovers from all over the world write their names on colorful locks and secure it to the wall. It's sweet to read the names and messages written on the locks. 

Next to the wall of locks is the bronze sculpture of Juliet herself. It's said that by touching her right breast, you'll have luck in finding love. I'm 35 and single, so I gave her boob a hearty rub, just for an extra dose of luck!

Next, we decided to tour the house of Juliet. It was 8€ and allows you to take a self guided tour of the house, including standing on Juliet's balcony.  It truly is beautiful and throughout the house, the views over Verona are exceptional. 

The house is sparsely decorated, but gorgeous.

Toward the back of the house is Juliet's bedroom and in it, the bed used in the filming of the 1968 movie, directed by Franco Zeffirelli (never saw it!).

And what good would a house tour be without some period clothing?  I actually loved the dress - my photo doesn't do it justice.

Romeo's outfit, on the other hand...well, let's just say I don't know a lot of men who can pull off a tights.  Leave a little to the imagination, fellas!

There is a guestbook filled with romantic sentiments in all languages (or maybe they're dirty jokes, how would I know what a backwards R means?)

One part was so delightfully ridiculous, I just had to snap a picture.  Towards the back of Juliet's house on the 4th or 5th floor, there are 4 terminals where you can email a letter to Juliet in any language you want.  Let's pretend for the moment that e-mail is the appropriate forum for this type of note. Let's also pretend that some beautiful woman wise in the ways of love will read your letter, when really it's probably a bored intern named Kimberly.

I stand there for a minute trying to imagine what I'd say to Juliet.

"Dear Juliet, my love life stinks.  Where did you get that delightful dagger?  Love, Jules."

No...not quite right.

"Dear Juliet, I've been dating for more than 20 years. At this point, I'm running out of things to say on first dates. Love, Jules."

True. But perhaps I should be more heartfelt. I close my eyes, take a breath and really try.

"Dear Juliet, I'm sure you've read a letter like mine a thousand times if you've read it once. I want the same thing that everyone wants...a great love, a partner, a friend. Someone to kiss me, hold my hand and grow old with. Someone to make me laugh and hold me when I cry.  Someone I can trust and confide in and lean on from time to time so I don't have to be so strong all the time. Someone to travel the world with, share my life with, build a future with.  I've been patient.  Will it ever be my turn...and will he be worth the wait?  Love, Jules"  

In the end, I decide not to write anything to the fair Kimberly Juliet.  But as I walk down flight after flight of stairs, catching glimpses of the buildings outside, awash in gorgeous afternoon sunlight, I snap a photo and think of the perfect, succinct email I should have typed.

"Dear Juliet, I rubbed your boob....could you help a sister out? Love, Jules"