People watching in Bologna was refreshing. Renowned for their frank, no-nonsense attitude, I found the Bolognese a nice, unassuming, welcoming bunch. Our permanence was short, but it gave me the distinct impression of a city fundamentally at ease with itself, immune from the posers that scourge Milan or the dark pessimists of Turin. Walking through its cobbled streets, sitting in its bars, eating at its restaurants, I had the distinct impression of being in a village where everyone knew each other or anyhow went along pretty well.
Not a bad feat for a city of 400,000 souls, of whom at least 16% aren’t born in Italy.
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Dogs and humans know how to relax here.
Barber in action.
As Edna Woolman Chase said, ‘Fashion can be bought. Style one must possess’.
Despite not being a seaside city, fishmongers in Bologna were all of high quality.
…And delicatessens too.
Peddling away in Piazza Maggiore.
The busker and the toughie.
Under the watchful eye of Gregory XIII, the calendar reformer.