Time to take an hour or two out of the hot midday sun in Ferrara, a Renaissance city on the Po River flatlands north of Bologna. Funny ain’t it, how some towns/cities try so much harder to win over visitors than do others which believe they can rest on their laurels. With scarcely another tourist to be seen in town, Ferrara is one of those we-try-harder places… yesterday the tourist info lady quickly helped us find a hospitable B&B in the university district and this morning we spent hours roaming through Ferrara’s red brick castle, once the seat of the Este dynasty and now loving preserved, curated and chaperoned.
Out in the piazza, svelte cyclists swoop past like flocks of starlings: none of this anal Anglo-Saxon helmet nonsense. So many young lovers about, nuzzling each other, holding hands, double-dinking on their bikes… and summer has barely begun.