#20: Zona Traffico Limitato
Ciao Nonni!
Apologies for the weekly dispatch being a few days behind schedule. We've had plenty going on, including the much anticipated arrival of la nonna Flavia!
Our Australian visitor landed in Bologna on Wednesday and I drove the 90 minutes down the road to meet her at the airport. We planned it so that the two of us could stay there for a night, before heading to Lucca (and the mayhem of the bambini) the following day.
The Italian customs experience is either non-existent, or the most time consuming and hideously inefficient process possible. In this case it was the former. From tarmac to pick up was about 10 minutes. It caught me quite off guard, as I'd planned to spend the wait time doing some research on the city's driving restrictions and parking options.
As a result, we bundled into the car and set off for an hilarious drive into our hotel which was located well inside the ZTL (zona traffico limitato).
In Lucca, I love the ZTL. But that is because I don't drive here, and so I know it as a relatively car-free sanctuary where cyclists and pedestrians rule the streets.
The ZTL is basically a designated area, usually a centro storico, where only cars carrying special permits are allowed to drive. They are policed strictly by number plate recognition cameras, and even the most innocent and unintentional stray within the bounds of one will result in a hefty fine.
Luckily I at least have some experience with one - I know what the signs look like and how to tell if the zone is attiva or non-attiva at that point in time. Most tourists never even know they've driven in one until they receive the fine months later, sent by their hire car company who invariably adds an additional 'admin fee' onto the usually already overdue amount.
We drove into town and towards our hotel, which turned out to be tucked in a laneway right next to Piazza Maggiore. The main square in the very centre of Bologna. We decided on the fly that we would treat ourselves to a night of hideously expensive on-site parking at the hotel, and so we called ahead to make sure they had room for our car. The concierge, speaking in a mix of Italian and English, directed us to head to a certain address via our GPS, and then call him back when we were there. Strange, but ok.
Once at the address, we called him back. He proceeded to direct us, turn by turn, through a maze of tiny laneways and piazzas, some of which I'm sure cannot be intended for cars at all, to the hotel. All without triggering any of the ZTL cameras.
We had no idea where we were, until we popped out of a backstreet onto the piazza literally metres from the incredible, half-finished facade of the main duomo. Terrified, I exclaimed that surely we'd mucked up. Tranquilla, he told me. You are almost there.
We spent our 20 or so hours in Emilia-Romagna fortifying ourselves against our respective cases of jetlag and childlag with bowls of tortellini in brodo, tagliatelle al ragu and mountains of mortadella. Heaven. Bologna truly does have the best food in Italy. Dinner at a restaurant called Da Cesari was particularly delicious.
The kids were very excited to see their Fafa the next day when we arrived in Lucca. They both had huge smiles on their faces as they ran to give her a big hug. It was incredibly sweet. She's been the centre of attention ever since, and we've loved having another visitor here to whom we can show off our beautiful hometown here in Italy.
We have plenty to look forward to in the coming weeks. Christmas obviously, and all the festivities that entails. But also Raffaella's fourth birthday on the 22nd! We are going to be busy, but I know when the days come we will miss you and everyone back home.
