Dr. Dawg

Bologna rossa!

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May Day in Bologna, the red centre of Italy. What more could a progressive on holiday want?

The above is Bologna City Hall, facing the Piazza Maggiore. I could pass away with a smile on my face if I ever saw Ottawa City Hall decked out like that!

Here’s the crowd, already thinning, in the Piazza Maggiore.


Some young anarchists decided to chant some disapproving slogans in front of the centre-left Partito Democratico booth. The PD has, after all, just entered into what is in effect a coalition government with Silvio Berlusconi’s right-wing Il Popolo della Libertà, including a Berlusconi ally as Deputy Prime Minister and the governor of the Bank of Italy as Finance Minister.

Youthful exuberance, no hint of violence, but some faint-hearted PD operative called up the carabinieri.


Bel gesto!” one man shouted sarcastically. “Vergogna!” (“Shame on you!) the crowd chanted.

In any case, despite a marked rise in tension, the cops behaved themselves, the PD folded up its tent, and the young folks dispersed.

I extended my hand to the dog in the foreground, in a gesture of international solidarity. It bit me.


Here is what I assume is an older Bolognese, taking his ease in a nearby sidewalk cafe.


Bologna is such an alive place, people filling the streets at all hours, just enjoying life. We watched them from numerous bars and benches. Thanks to the ever-resourceful Ms. Mew, we were fortunate enough to find lodgings in the centre of the old city, a stone’s throw from the famous Two Towers, . It’s hard to find a place for a good shot of these two structures, one (Asinelli) leaning slightly to the right, the other (Garisenda) more precipitously to the left. Here’s my best attempt, from the hotel terrace, but it simply doesn’t do justice to them:

Two Towers.jpg

Here are a few more towers—is it just me, or do none of them seem perfectly perpendicular?


Sight-seeing for the rest of our time, and two meals of tagliatelle alla bolognese, which were, in a word, delicious. The sauce is justly famous. In deference to an earlier commenter, I shall not dwell at length on the other culinary delights we sampled there, except to mention a powerful walnut liqueur, Nocino, which one should approach with caution.

Now back in Milano, as the hour of my departure nears, I’m looking forward to what has become a tradition: an orecchia di elefante (a giant, plate-overlapping veal cutlet) this evening with Ms. Mew and some family.

Then, alas, back to my humble abode in Ottawa, and some serious political blogging. I should take this opportunity to express my admiration and thanks to co-bloggers Mandos and Balbulican for keeping this place hopping in my absence.

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This page contains a single entry by Dr. Dawg published on May 3, 2013 6:14 AM.

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Racist soup kitchens and the great disappointment is the next entry in this blog.

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