Scooters in ItalyThe first thing I have noticed is that Bologna is not like Oak Bay. I mentioned this to Leslie and she says that I have keen powers of observation and not to bother her anymore.
The basal metabolic rate of Bologna is much higher than Victoria’s. In fact, Italian paramedics would probably declare Victoria cold but not quite dead. Defibrillator paddles would be quickly slapped on Victoria and energy would be applied in the hopes to revive the youngster. A rapid transfer to Italy’s Intensive Care would follow.
Canadians would be alerted that we should expect the worst but Italian doctors would try their best. Intravenous lines would be thrust into Victoria’s limp extremities with a bolus of Adrenaline, Fashion Sense and Fearlessness. Her Tilley hat, Gortex and practical shoes would be discarded as unrecognizable objects, not necessary for life. Victoria would pull through but she would never be the same again. On discharge she would swivel out to the parking lot in high heels, hop on a scooter and rocket off.
The best and worst features of Bologna are its porticoes, the covered sidewalks. They provide shelter from the scorching sun, now about 35C on average. They also sheltered us from the torrents of daily rain that were present when we first arrived. The thousands of scooters which ply through Bologna streets occasionally take to the sidewalks and dodge through the pedestrians but that isn’t the problem. Unfortunately the porticoes also have an acoustical magnification property. This dials up the already noisy steeds to the upper reaches of human tolerance when a pack of them goes by at breakneck speeds. The scooters tend to show up everywhere – in the piazzas, going the wrong way on a one way street and often sailing through red lights. Easing the pain is the fact that 80% of them are driven by stylish young women wearing miniskirts. Their helmet colour and sunglasses often match their outfits. I have even seen lipstick and helmets of a matching colour. I repeat, this is not Oak Bay.
Bologna has the oldest university in Europe and its buildings are spread throughout one section of the city. The porticoes originally provided a cool place for intellectuals to stroll and think, something we don’t do much of in modern life anymore. I offer this blog as proof.
If Cavalieri, a Bolognese scientist and colleague of Galileo’s, could have time travelled to 2008, he would have been puzzled as to how these two-wheeled, horseless buggies can go so fast in all directions yet never seem to collide with each other. This may have delayed his and Galileo’s work on the solar system as they pondered the puzzles of scooters. The miniskirts would have also provided a significant distraction for them. This would have been a good thing as they were working on the thesis that the sun was central in the universe. Unfortunately, this conflicted with Papal doctrine at the time and Galileo spent the later years of his life under house arrest as a result.
The number of near misses between pedestrians, motorists, scooters and cyclists is amazing. However, after spending nearly two months, I’ve noticed that the Bolognese have a different perception and tolerance of space. We Canadians will protect our space, even to the extreme degree of road rage. In Bologna, they share space much more intimately. A Canadian “road rager” would have a full time job here stressing and shouting his way around town. The Bolognese psychological scaffolding is erected differently from ours.
They have an unfailing belief that you won’t be hit by the vehicle closing fast behind you. I am out there cycling almost every day, leaving the busy historical center for the hills around Bologna. I am not sure as to the Papal position on this issue is but I try to believe I won’t get hit, ”Lordy, I believe, I believe! “
I have seen grandmothers, businessmen and fashionable women on bicycles weave their way alertly through a busy intersection, often passing within inches of scooters, buses and cars, without flinching. The risk levels they assume would have the average Canadian running for cover.
The intimacy of space also extends to walking. Leslie and I were developing an inferiority complex, thinking that nobody gives way for us as we walk. But we realized that the same sensibility on the road applies to the sidewalk. The pedestrians do not give way easily but will budge ever so slightly. They just wait until the last possible microsecond to move. It’s not really a visible motion but a slight shift of weight, much like a boxer slipping a punch. There can be some machismo involved, not wanting to yield lest this reveal a weakness. A couple of polite Canadese like ourselves make little progress. In the passagietta or evening stroll, we apologise and give way constantly, and, as a result, throw off the subtle moves of passersby. A ripple passes through the crowd like a wake off a boat as we make our way.
The porticoes also seem to magnify the amount of people on the sidewalks, like a corral fence concentrating cattle. The passagietta participants are branded with Gucci, Dolce & Gabbana, Prada and knock-offs. There are fashion themes but one doesn’t seem to dominate. The busines men have an eye for style often with a dramatic touch in their eyeglasses.
The women emphasize colour and femininity. They wear impossibly high heels with the ease of a pair of sneakers. Leslie and I were slacked-jawed as we saw one woman run at a full speed sprint for a bus with not the slightest wobble. We cringed expecting the worse, a horrible high speed accident with heels and skid marks everywhere. Predictably, no one else raised an eyebrow and I think, at one point, she actually passed the bus.
The Bolognese remove and put on layers of clothes out of proportion to the slight fluctuations in temperature. Initially, they clung to long pants, jackets and even down vests during the rains we experienced even though it was quite warm at times. As the temperature nudged a bit higher, layers were abandoned with tremendous rapidity. Middle aged men and women in short- shorts were spotted like the last breeding pairs of an otherwise thought extinct species. According to my observations, I have extrapolated the data and calculated that if the temperature ever hits 37C, everyone will be nude. I plan on watching this phenomenon as a scientific observer in Piazza Magiorre if a hotter spell is forecast. I mentioned this to Leslie and she said “Alora, I thought I said not to bother me anymore!”
Arrivederci, ciao!
Pier Francisco
