Velo Gypsies: Ferrara to Bologna

Ferrara to Bologna consisted of wrong turns, missed turns, and an 84km(52mile) total ride. I wanted to punch Dan’s enthusiasm, Greg’s superior riding skills, and pandas, because, well, I need to take my anger out on something and there are so many in Italy. My limbs were weak and shaking, I was light headed, and my stomach was distended with gas from all the fuel I was trying to consume to keep my body going for hours. By the time we reached the camp ground, I wouldn’t say more than two words to anyone. Then I showered, housed a big ass plate of lasagna, drank some wine, and all was calm in the world of Mel. I knew going in that this would be a hard trip, especially the first couple of weeks while my body adjusts to being so active. So I promise, I won’t always complain so much. Looking back though, I got to see ruins of old villas, a herd of sheep complete with the shaggy dogs, and this:

An empty church with amazing frescos that I’m pretty sure could rival some in Florence…all off a random side road in the little village of Merrara.

I know Greg was stoked on the bicycle lifestyle of Ferrara, taking photos of the local fauna on the common place rusty Dutch style bike, but for some reason I didn’t connect with it as much as the next town we hit, Bologna. Bologna is more beautiful to me than Venice. True, they’re both seeping with history down to the last gutter, but Venice felt like a tourist trap; don’t get me wrong, I’m happy to have been, but Bologna is this metropolis set in an historic picture book. We were geeking out on random decorative pieces that are probably far older than our country that the locals were just walking by with a “yeah, whateva, I need to buy some Diesel jeans” type attitude. A city set within a fortress wall where the interior buildings are a constant in arches and columns, and 14^th century churches are rubbing elbows with Chanel and Robert Cavali stores.

Greg takes pictures of this: