Market explorations and unexpected weather warnings

Friday morning, 11:20. I'm sitting at a small café on Via Pescherie Vecchie, nursing my second coffee of the day while watching the vendors at Mercato di Mezzo prepare for the lunch rush. The narrow medieval street is slowly coming to life around me, and I can't help but smile at the sensory feast that's unfolding.

I woke up early this morning, as usual. After yesterday's tower climbing adventure (498 steps!), my calves were protesting, but I was determined to experience Bologna's famous food markets before the crowds arrived. I left the hotel just before 8:00, arriving at the market area as the vendors were setting up their stalls. Being among the first customers has its perks – not only did I get to watch the careful arrangement of produce, but I also received extra attention from the vendors eager to make their first sales of the day.

The Quadrilatero area, with its network of narrow streets between Piazza Maggiore and the Two Towers, houses some of Bologna's oldest food markets. Walking through these ancient lanes is like stepping into a food lover's dream. Mortadella, prosciutto, and various salamis hang from the ceilings of salumerie. Wheels of Parmigiano-Reggiano are stacked high in cheese shops. Fresh pasta in every imaginable shape fills the windows of pasta shops.

At one pasta shop, I spent nearly twenty minutes watching an elderly woman deftly roll and shape tortellini, her fingers moving with hypnotic precision. Each tiny pasta parcel was no bigger than my thumbnail, yet perfectly formed. When she noticed me watching, she smiled and nodded, seemingly pleased by my interest. I purchased a small package of fresh tortellini to try later, along with detailed instructions on how to prepare them properly "in brodo" (in broth) as the local man at the café had recommended yesterday.

While wandering, I checked my phone and noticed the weather alerts for Bologna – an orange warning for snow/ice until tomorrow morning and a yellow warning for wind starting this evening. November in Italy continues to surprise me. The current temperature is only 6°C, and the forecast shows rain later today. I'll need to adjust my plans accordingly.

I had intended to visit the Archiginnasio, one of the main buildings of the University of Bologna (the oldest university in the world, founded in 1088), but now I'm considering doing that this afternoon before the weather deteriorates. The Botanical Garden might have to wait for better weather.

Speaking of universities, it's fascinating to think about how this city has been shaped by its academic history. The nickname "la dotta" (the learned one) makes perfect sense as I observe students hurrying through the streets with books and laptops. There's a youthful energy here that contrasts with the medieval architecture.

I've been in Italy for over two weeks now, and I'm beginning to pick up small bits of the language. My "grazie" and "per favore" are now delivered with slightly better pronunciation, though my attempts at anything more complex usually result in amused smiles from locals.

The coffee here is excellent – strong and served in small cups that somehow make the experience more meaningful. I've developed a habit of people-watching while enjoying my morning caffeine, observing the rhythm of local life. The Bolognese seem to move with purpose but without rush, taking time for conversations and greetings along the way.

With the weather turning later, I think I'll finish my coffee, visit the Archiginnasio this afternoon, and perhaps find a cozy trattoria for dinner where I can try the famous tagliatelle al ragù (what we incorrectly call "spaghetti bolognese" back home).

I've heard there's a Davis Cup tennis tournament happening at the SuperTennis Arena Bologna Fiere until November 23. While I'm not a huge tennis fan, it might be interesting to experience the atmosphere of an international sporting event – especially if the weather makes outdoor exploration less appealing.

For now, though, I'm content to sit here a bit longer, watching Bologna's food culture unfold before me, one market stall at a time.