A Letter from Bologna

A school year begins in Italy.

By Jon Rosen | The SAIS Observer |10.04.07

In 1955, after more than five years of searching, Johns Hopkins University School of Advanced International Studies (SAIS) professor C. Grove Haines finally found a home for his academic brainchild: An American graduate school of International Affairs in Europe. Haines' vision was an institution that would prepare future leaders from both sides of the Atlantic to help Europe recover from a devastating war, promoting cross-border fraternity both within the classroom and outside of it. When the University of Bologna — the oldest and one of the most respected universities in Europe — offered to lend Haines classrooms to kick-start his new school, SAIS' European campus was born. Fifty-two years later, just a few blocks down the road at the present-day SAIS on Via Belmeloro, school is once again in session.

Since the final week of August, we, The Bologna Center class of 2008, have gradually made our way from more than 30 countries around the world to the heart of this ancient city, the capital of Italy's Emilia Romanga Region in the fertile Po Valley northwest of the Apennine Mountains. For those of us arriving a month early to catch up on some Italian and economics, the Bologna that met us was eerily vacant, with the bulk of the town's 100,000 students yet to return from their summer vacations. After a couple of lonely nights in local hotels, things began to pick up fast, and a memorable morning of SAIS-sponsored house touring — the thirty some-odd flats far less so than the immaculate driving of our guide Salvatore, who put our eight-passenger van in places we'd never imagined possible — left the bulk of us with roofs under which to settle in for our nine-month stints in Bologna.

As the guidebooks had promised, the Bologna we now call home is the romantic fusion of architectural remnants of the Roman, Medieval, and Papal eras. From the historical (and present-day) center the famed due torre, a pair of angled, 12th century towers, give way to a two-mile wide labyrinth of narrow, arcaded streets, leading to centuries-old churches, palazzos, and even a network of underground canals. From the surrounding hillsides — or the newly renovated SAIS Bologna Center penthouse — the city glows an earthy red (appropriate, given its history of leftist politics), thanks to its uniformly tiled rooftops and warm-hued porticos.

Yet, there's a grittier side to Bologna, one of loud, speeding motorbikes, graffiti-ridden storefronts, and pollution, which becomes strikingly evident by a short run up one of the nearby hills, where crisp country air is available free of charge — save a set of sore legs the next morning. Most striking, however, are the ever-present punkabestia, the loitering, disaffected (and predominantly middle class) "punks with beasts," whose wandering canines are free to fertilize city sidewalks, and eventually the shoes of the unsuspecting passerby.

While this caca di cane might not conjure up an appetite for Italy's culinary riches, Bolognese cuisine is nonetheless regarded the country's best, and luckily for us SAISers (particularly the Americans who might otherwise have lost their appetites in recent months with the continued plunge of the dollar) this scrumptiousness trickles down to those even on a student budget. A recent trip, for instance, to little more than a hole-in-the-wall pizzeria yielded the six-euro tortellini of a lifetime. And though many of us may depart next summer with espresso-stained teeth and skin that has slowly morphed into prosciutto crudo, at least we know we're mangiamo bene.

And drinking well, too — at least according to one anonymous Observer informant who infiltrated a gathering of students at the ever-popular MC Tony's Bar one recent early Saturday morning. In lieu of all the findings, its safe to say the 11:00 curfew of the Grove Haines era has long since made its way into the annals of SAIS history. Still, the Bologna center visionary and our pre-term professors of econ would be relieved to know that late-night conversation still finds its way back to talk begun in the classroom. "Rough evening? Some diminishing marginal utility of that whiskey!"

Yes, we may be a thirsty bunch, but also one ready to tackle the reading lists awaiting us at the start of the first semester, although, if our experiences thus far are any indication, we'll have to spend at least as much time slogging through mundane bureaucratic tasks as we do hitting the books. Take the local permessi di soggi—rno, the residence permits mandatory for non-EU citizens. In addition to a book-of-an application, these jewels require two separate payments at a cross-town post office, a €14,62 stamp from a tobacco shop, and proof of Italian state health insurance (though, rumors that might be taken off the list left many of us to fly solo with our Chickering from 'Hopkins). When all is said and done, we'll be summoned to the Bologna police station for fingerprinting, more stamps, and for all we know, a shaking out of our pockets by local civil servant X. Of course, as the turn-around time on the permissi is approximately eight months, we'll finally be residents just as we're ready to skip town. As my survival Italian teacher put it on a particularly brisk September morning, "In Italia, la unica cosa che cambia rapidamente è il tempo." In Italy, the only thing that changes quickly is the weather.

C'est la vie, I suppose, or around these parts, C'è la vita — one that promises plenty of adventure as we continue to explore our new institution and the riches of its, and our, host city.