This trip to Italy happened spontaneously. Just for a week. Sometimes those are the journeys you remember best.
I stayed with a local Italian friend. In the mornings, he would go to work, and I would set off to wander the city. Bologna turned out to be unlike any other Italian city I had seen before. Less showy beauty, more real life.
What struck me most was the old city. The central Piazza Maggiore, surrounded by medieval palazzos, the famous leaning towers of Asinelli and Garisenda, and miles of covered arcades that wind through almost all of Bologna.
I often sat in a café on the square and sketched the Basilica of San Petronio. Its vast unfinished facade drew my gaze. I always felt that watching the life of the square was just as interesting as drawing the architecture itself.
I brought very few materials on the trip: three tubes of watercolor, a small sketchbook, and a few ink pens for graphics. That turned out to be enough. I was interested in architecture, urban space, and finding interesting compositions.
The most surprising thing was that I simply could not memorise the map of the old city. Usually, it takes me one or two walks through a new place to get my bearings. In Bologna, that skill suddenly stopped working. The narrow medieval streets kept confusing my routes, and the city revealed itself anew each time.
When I needed quiet, I would escape to Villa Ghigi Park. After the dense urban fabric and labyrinth of streets, it became a place of rest — and a chance to climb the hill for panoramic views over Bologna.
Looking back on this trip, what I remember above all is the atmosphere of the city. Not individual landmarks, but the feeling of old Italy — where architecture, everyday life, and history exist as one.