It was the hottest day of that summer, 39 degrees Celsius. The sun embraced everything from all sides, the asphalt steamed, and somewhere between the ancient red walls of Bologna, the search for the first trace of shade began. Yet despite the heat, the city breathed. Youth. Ideas. Cicadas.
Bologna: More Than Just a City
It was never expected that Bologna would cast such a spell. It is known as "La Dotta, La Grassa, La Rossa" — "the Learned, the Fat, the Red." And that is precisely what it is. The Learned, because the oldest university in the world was founded here in 1088. The Università di Bologna is not simply an educational institution but a place where intellectual Europe was shaped over centuries. Dante, Copernicus, Petrarca — all walked these halls. And today, more than 900 years later, Bologna still sounds young: English, French, Italian, and German can be heard everywhere. Students, interns, seekers of knowledge.
The Fat, because Bologna is the culinary heart of Italy. Without having eaten tagliatelle al ragù here, one simply does not know what a real ragù is. Forget the "Bolognese" from the supermarket back home. Here the sauce is cooked for hours, served only with tagliatelle, and tastes like an entirely new culinary worldview. The Red, because the sky, rooftops, and walls all share that warm terracotta hue. Bologna feels as though it were built from sunlight .
A City That Never Grows Old
What made the deepest impression was the feeling of constant renewal. The city gives the sense that it reinvents itself every semester. Youth is everywhere: in libraries, on the steps of old buildings, on bicycles, in small cafés. People laugh, debate, draw, dream — and something in the air seems to say: "These are the ones who will carry this city forward." There is something strange and wonderful about being in such an ancient city that feels so young at the same time.
Bologna: The City of Cicadas
And then there is this: Bologna is also the city of cicadas. They fell silent neither by day nor by night. Their sound served as the soundtrack of the city, constantly present — during meals, walks, quiet moments of reflection. Fortunately, the windows in the hotel were well insulated, making sleep at least possible. But honestly, their chirping was easy to appreciate. It simply belongs here. Bologna, then, is not only the city of universities but also the city of cicadas. It is learned but never arrogant. Old but never dusty. Blazing hot, yet full of life. It is a place worth returning to at any time — even at 39 degrees Celsius.