Emilia-Romagna, Italy 4 day road-trip

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13.03.2025: We’re kicking off the 2025 travel season with a small Italy / San Marino getaway.
The past few weeks — launching a our own new company — have been intense, to put it mildly. So a short few-day escape feels perfectly timed.
First task after landing in Italy: find our local car rental guy. The big question — will we actually get something that drives, or will we have to push it ourselves? The rental price is a surprisingly low €5 per day, which doesn’t exactly inspire confidence.

But as usual, everything goes smoothly. A short chat, deposit sorted, and in parking lot P3 our most authentically Italian little ride is waiting — a Fiat 500.
Time to remember how to operate a manual gearbox again. Still, at that price, complaining would be a sin. We jump in and set off toward Modena, about 200 km away. Let’s see what this season brings.

MODENA, ITALY

13.03.2025: It turns out this world-famous car brand actually has two museum locations. One is here in Modena, focused mainly on road-going supercars. The other is in Maranello, about 30–40 minutes away, dedicated to the racing world. For this trip, one museum is enough — we
still want to explore the city itself.

It’s genuinely surprising how a city roughly the size of Liepāja has produced so many elite automotive brands. Just a few names: Ferrari, Lamborghini, Maserati, Pagani. Modena is often called the heart of Italian supercars, and for good reason — Enzo Ferrari himself was born here in
1898. Interestingly, the wider Emilia-Romagna region has a long-standing tradition of mechanics and engineering, which historically helped foster the development of these iconic brands.
The city itself seems to still be in winter sleep — and that’s perfect. We get to enjoy this UNESCO World Heritage site without the crowds. The highlights are unmistakable: Duomo di Modena, built in the 12th century, The Ghirlandina Tower, the city’s symbol Piazza Grande, where authentic medieval charm still lingers.

Few people around, shops open selectively, but cafés and bars operating at full capacity — as they should. Classic Italian problem: no Italian hears Madara properly until she repeats
herself three times (because she is not the loudest speaker) — or until I step in as the official translator. We settle into a packed local bar. A cool, seemingly authentic place where, in order to blend in, you’re practically required to use your hands as a fully legitimate communication tool.
When the bill arrives, one beer is mysteriously missing. A small bonus from the waiter.

SANT’AGATA BOLONESE, ITALY

14.03.2025: Since today’s weather forecast looks fairly miserable and we’re up early anyway, we decide to make a small detour on the way to Bologna — through Sant’Agata Bolognese, the
birthplace of the legendary Italian bull, Lamborghini, more than 60 years ago. We start the morning with a quick stop at the Modena market, stocking up on local delights: pistachio cream, arancini, and pistachio cannoli pastries — exactly what’s needed to properly set the tone for an Italian day.

Update: Almost a year later, in February 2026, I received a fine for driving into Modena’s old
town with a car — which apparently wasn’t allowed. Well… a €100 mistake. After about a 30-minute drive, we arrive in the small town of roughly 7,500 inhabitants. Proudly pulling up in our Fiat 500 right in front of Lamborghini headquarters, we’re quickly and politely redirected by security — parking is for employees only.

The story of Ferruccio Lamborghini is as iconic as the cars themselves. Originally a tractor
manufacturer, he reportedly clashed with Enzo Ferrari and decided to build his own luxury sports cars instead. That decision gave birth to one of the world’s most famous supercar brands.
Entry is €18 per person, and within moments we’re immersed in the brand’s history. From the early Miura, through Countach, Gallardo, Aventador, all the way to the Sesto Elemento — one of the most exclusive Lamborghini models ever made. Only 20 were produced worldwide.

Much like at the Ferrari museum yesterday, there’s nothing radically different compared to, say, the Riga Motor Museum back home, where you can also see rare and historic vehicles. But there’s something about that distinct Italian sense of style — the ability to showcase exclusivity without overdoing it, balancing it with classic aesthetics. The result: a very enjoyable two hours. A slight regret is that we didn’t manage to arrange a factory production tour in advance. There was one slot available today, but we would’ve had to wait more than two hours, which would’ve disrupted our plans in Bologna. That’s fine — something has to be left for next time.

BOLOGNA, ITALY

14.03.2025: Upon arriving in Bologna, we’re greeted right on the street by our apartment host — a proper Italian. While I’m still paying for parking, he nervously smokes two cigarettes in quick succession. The apartment itself is very pleasant — a spacious terrace, cozy interior, and close enough to the old town to comfortably walk there on foot.

In the historic center, we stop at Piazza Santo Stefano for a relaxed drink. While soaking in the
atmosphere, three separate attempts are made to extract euros from us. First, a silent mime who,
without saying a word, tries to generate sympathy money. Then, a pitch-black “Italian lady” offering bracelets. And finally, a classic street beggar simply trying to squeeze out some loose change. We resist them all.

A bit later, Latvia’s Foreign Minister Baiba Braže casually walks past us. We don’t initiate contact — this time, we remain quiet observers. Without any particular goal, we wander toward Finestrella di Via Piella — a small window in a wall that reveals one of Bologna’s historic canals. A lesser-known fact: the city once had an extensive canal system, somewhat comparable to Venice. Through this tiny opening, you can glimpse what remains of it. Unfortunately, this time the canal is nearly dry, despite the steady rain outside. Oh well — onward.

While strolling through the old town, I discover that my jacket has torn. Not ideal. But at this
moment, there’s only one priority: food. We go searching for classic Bolognese sauce to help us
forget everything else. Near the majestic yet never fully completed Basilica di San Petronio, we find a small restaurant. There’s no time to shop around — the rain threatens to soak us through — so we go in. On the way, we pass the University of Bologna, the oldest university in the world, operating since 1088. During dinner, we realize that in just a few hours we’ve already covered almost all the major old-town sights marked on the map. Browsing online for a nice leather jacket to replace my torn one, ChatGPT suggests Florence — not that far away, and apparently the place to go for quality(?) Italian leather goods.

That’s when it hits us: we don’t have strict plans for tomorrow, my jacket is genuinely ruined, we
have a car, and… four years ago we absolutely loved Florence. Decision made — tomorrow, we drive to Florence. Before heading back, we stop at a bar called “Birraeria.” A fascinating place with local Italian beers and even more local characters. For example, a stylishly bearded man around 55 sitting at the bar… knitting a sweater (!). Later we discover that a small Chihuahua is peacefully sleeping inside his waist bag.

FLORENCE, ITALY

15.03.2025: So, having decided on Florence, we drag ourselves out of bed and get moving. After about an hour on the highway — and €8.60 in tolls — we’re back in this beautiful Tuscan city.
Around 10 a.m., the area near Cattedrale di Santa Maria del Fiore is already packed with people. This time, instead of diving into the chaos, we head toward Florence’s “other side” — the Santo Spirito district — crossing the famous jewelry bridge, Ponte Vecchio, which connects the historic center with the opposite bank of the Arno River.

There are plenty of people, and even more shops. Interestingly, though, the products rarely repeat — each vendor clearly tries to offer something unique. At nearby Piazza Santo Spirito, we stop for an espresso and an excellent pistachio gelato. According to Madara, her cheesecake was outstanding too. Next comes the “jacket mission” at Mercato Centrale Firenze. We browse a few shops and quickly realize that most of the jackets look nearly identical. Unfortunately, quite a few persistent street-style sellers from middle east have also found their way here, bringing with them the inevitable bargaining ritual. It’s one of those global 21st-century realities — unlikely to disappear anytime soon.

Still, I manage to secure a beautiful brown leather jacket — naturally at a “special price for you, my friend.” Hopefully, it lasts. Right there at the market, we sit down for an arancini — absolutely excellent. One of those, and you’re almost done with lunch. On the way back to the car, Madara spots a green leather backpack. After about 15 minutes of negotiating with a Pakistani seller, she walks away with both the backpack and a small crossbody bag for her mom. Florence leather goods mission: accomplished. And we’re still within budget.

We stop for coffee at the same place we visited back in 2021 — right next to the cathedral. This time the view is from the opposite side because scaffolding now covers part of it. Eternal restoration works… Still, the sight is impressive. Florence is often called the “Cradle of the Renaissance,” and for good reason. Giants like Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci, Dante, and Galileo were born or worked here. The cathedral’s dome, designed by Brunelleschi, is still considered an engineering marvel — built in the 15th century without internal scaffolding, something nearly unimaginable at the time.

We also check in at the lion statue guarding the massive wooden doors of Basilica di Santa Croce — still standing proudly. Finally, we take a relaxed walk through Piazza della Signoria, Florence’s political heart. This time, the fountain is actually working. During our December visit a few years ago, it was turned off — frozen for the winter. Florence never really disappoints.

BOLOGNA, ITALY – EVENING

15.03.2025: On the way back to Bologna, we stop at the Sanctuary of San Luca, proudly standing on a hill just outside Bologna. Leading up to it is the longest covered portico in the world —
stretching an impressive 3.8 kilometers along the hillside. It was built so that pilgrims wouldn’t have to climb for miles in the rain with soaked clothes.

In total, there are 666 arches, winding like a serpent up the hill. Interestingly, that number
wasn’t chosen randomly — it symbolizes the snake leading toward the church, representing
“Mary’s triumph over evil.” We, however, skip the full pilgrimage climb. We’re not feeling quite that devout today. Even for our little Fiat, the hill proves to be a mild challenge, but we make it to the top. From the parking area, a short 15-minute walk is pleasant enough. Had we climbed the entire route on foot — which would take at least two hours — the emotional experience might have been different.

We walk around, take a few photos, and head back toward the apartment. Maybe we just
fail to tap into the deeper spiritual atmosphere this place is meant to evoke — because there
are no dramatic goosebumps or divine revelations. Apparently, cyclists love this climb too. For them, the “battle against evil” is very real and very physical — the gradient on the road is no joke.
By the time we get back, it starts pouring rain properly. We’re forced into a short break on the
terrace under the roof. A neighbour has left at least six umbrellas in the stairwell, so we “borrow” one — hoping he won’t notice (or won’t mind).

After a quick Google Maps search, we end up in a tiny pizzeria near the old town. While we’re
only halfway through our pizzas, an army of delivery drivers has already gathered at the entrance waiting for orders. That’s usually a good sign — and indeed, the pizzas are excellent. Both in taste and price. A fully loaded pizza for €7, and a classic takeaway Margherita for just €3. Hard to find that kind of pricing these days.

After dinner, we stroll through Bologna’s main square once more. This time, the city feels slightly “neutral” to us — perhaps influenced by the rain and overall grey atmosphere. A bit like Córdoba once felt to us in Spain. Undeniably beautiful, but hard to pinpoint one must-see highlight.
Bologna seems like the perfect city to simply wander narrow Italian streets without emptying
your wallet like in Rome — and without fighting through endless tourist crowds. On the way back, we manage to get properly lost — accidentally adding an extra 30-minute walk. But as long as it’s not raining, those are just minor life details. Sometimes the best parts of travel are the unplanned detours.

RAVENNA, ITALY

16.03.2025: Today, on our way to San Marino, we take a small detour – and for this little side trip I can thank exactly one thing: a book I once bought on impulse. It’s called Ultimate Travel List –
500 places in the world you absolutely have to see, according to Lonely Planet. One of them: Ravenna.

Ravenna itself might not immediately impress with a dazzling exterior, but the book emphasized that here you’ll find a church and a mausoleum that look rather modest from the outside – and then, inside… wow. Stepping in, you’re met with something truly unreal – massive mosaics stretching from floor to ceiling. Every vault of the ceiling has its own motif, its own mood. These works were created in the early 5th century. I’m not sure how much restoration they’ve
undergone over time, but they look absolutely stunning.

The ticket, by the way, includes an entire walking route covering five different sites. Along the way, naturally, a quick stop for Italian pastries and strong coffee in Piazza del Popolo – a proper caffeine-and-sugar boost to keep the pace up. Of all the stops, the mausoleum and the church are definitely the highlights – the others lean more toward Christian history and ancient relics, which didn’t particularly resonate this time. Still, it’s worth seeing that layer of culture and religion too – after all, it’s all part of the city’s story.

Ravenna is quiet, beautiful, and very harmonious – and honestly, those couple of hours were absolutely the right call. And of course, item number 168 in the book: checked. One step closer to “circling the universe.”

SAN MARINO, SAN MARINO

16.03.2025: After the city of mosaics, we head toward the oldest republic in the world – San Marino. At the same time, it’s the third smallest country on the planet (after the Vatican and Monaco). It’s also one of only three enclaves in the world – countries completely surrounded by a single other country (the other two being Lesotho and the Vatican).

Since San Marino isn’t part of the European Economic Area, we have to survive without mobile data – otherwise the bill could get painfully expensive. Using offline navigation on Maps.me, I start doubting the credibility of our route. As usual, the inner voice turns out to be right – blindly trusting apps is never a great long-term strategy. Maps.me isn’t exactly built for proper car navigation. Still… somehow we make it to the destination. The capital city – also called San Marino – sits on top of Monte Titano. Our little Fiat has to work for it. Burning through a decent portion of fuel, we grumble our way uphill. With absolutely no surprise, finding parking is a
challenge – everything is full. Makes sense. In streets this narrow, there simply isn’t much room.

After waiting just under half an hour, we score an excellent parking spot right next to our hotel. Pure luck! Having saved money on several other parts of this trip, I decide to splurge a bit on accommodation here. We’re staying at the 4-star Hotel Cesare, in a panoramic room that truly delivers on the promise. The view stretches across the entire microstate – the San Marino basilica visible, along with the proudly waving blue-and-white flag above the fortress walls. In the “view from the window” category, this easily makes my top 3 – alongside Patagonia and San Francisco.

It looks beautiful through the window, but the weather isn’t exactly kind. The wind at the top of Monte Titano slices through the narrow stone streets so sharply that even cheeks turn red and noses start freezing. Next to the basilica we stumble upon a small specialty liquor shop offering tastings. Pistachio liqueur, mango liqueur, and all sorts of other curious creations. Naturally, the pistachio one comes home with us, along with locally brewed San Marino beers. The light beers are genuinely good. The dark one? Not my type. But as my grandpa would say – you can’t leave anything for the enemy. Meaning – if you bought something you eat and/or drink it.

For dinner we walk into a pizzeria, but I somehow end up with spaghetti Bolognese, while Madara goes for a vegetarian pizza. A small conversation develops with an interesting group at the next table – one lady from Australia, two from Chicago, one of whom now lives in Italy. These ladies aren’t messing around – liter-sized mugs of beer are being handled at a very respectable pace. By evening, the streets of San Marino become completely empty. I suppose most tourists just pop in for a couple of hours and leave. I’m glad I chose to stay. There’s something about these small, slightly peculiar countries. Tonight I have a few more beers, but my throat feels increasingly suspicious. Tomorrow will most likely be bad.

Update: it was, indeed, “shiiit.”

MANTONA, ITALY

17.03.2025: Breakfast at Hotel Cesare is generous enough to keep the stomach calm well past lunchtime. Omelette, sausages, coffee, pancakes and then some more… and more… and more. A proper classic large buffet situation – no one leaves hungry, that’s for sure.

Today’s additional mission: send a postcard to my Grandma back home. That way she’ll become the proud owner of a rather rare stamp. Apparently, San Marino stamps are a genuine collector’s gem. We also secure a similar souvenir for ourselves – a San Marino visit stamp in the passport, complete with an official postage stamp. Small country, serious memorabilia game.

Slowly we begin our long drive toward Bergamo. Madara is assigned the responsible task of finding a good halfway stop – somewhere to stretch our legs and let the brain recover from driving mode. That’s how we end up in the small town of Mantona, population roughly 38,000. Quiet, beautiful, sitting gracefully by a lake.

My throat is in full rebellion today, and my sinuses have decided to block every available airway, so the walk isn’t quite as enjoyable as it could be. We sit down at Café Venezia for a mini pizza and a small coffee shot. In the shelter from the wind, the sun feels pleasantly warm – even if the air itself isn’t exactly. As we head back toward the car, we realize we’ve paid for parking for another 50 minutes. No point wasting prepaid time. So we put it to productive use – settle down at a café on Piazza Marconi with a freshly squeezed, slightly mysterious fruit juice for me and an Aperol for Madara. Within seconds, five persistent pigeons lay claim to our snacks, behaving as if
they had a confirmed reservation at our table.

BERGAMO, ITALY

17.03.2025: Our final accommodation is chosen closer to the center of Bergamo – the idea being to squeeze out one last evening walk, a proper dinner, and absorb the final drops of holiday mood. The little Fiat has to fold itself into a proper Italian parking situation right next to the building. The space is impressively minimal even for a Fiat 500 – but at least it exists. With anything bigger than our tiny Fiat, this mission would have been impossible.

I ask the host the classic question – where to get good pasta or pizza nearby. Her answer makes me smile: “In Italy we have this problem that nobody works on Monday.” Fair enough. So on a Monday, you work with what you’ve got. After a bit of Google Maps scouting, we find a promising-looking pizzeria about a 15–20 minute walk away.

No wild celebrations planned tonight – and honestly, my sore throat isn’t exactly pushing me toward nightlife anyway. The pizza turns out to be excellent, in a rather interesting setting – a café without windows. When we walk in, only two tables are occupied. We hesitate for a second. Is this going to be a mistake?
We stay. Good decision! Gradually, more people trickle in, the place fills up, and the pizzas truly
deliver. On the way back, we stop at a small bar – just to sit for a bit and stretch out the last evening. Because back at the accommodation, there’s nothing to do but sleep. The alarm is set for 4:30 a.m., so we can’t linger too long. Still, you try to hold onto that holiday feeling just a
little longer.

BGY-RIX

18.03.2025: When the alarm goes off at 4:30 a.m., it feels like we haven’t slept at all. As if we’d closed our eyes maybe 15 minutes ago. But no negotiating with aviation – the plane won’t wait. We quickly bite into the leftover pizza from last night and hit the road. It’s about a 15-minute drive to Bergamo Airport. Through the empty early-morning streets of Bergamo, we actually make it even faster than planned. The only real intrigue: at this hour, does the shuttle bus from the rental car parking even run?

Since the car has to be returned, options are limited – we gamble. After parking and taking the obligatory farewell photos of the little Fiat, we go hunting for the bus stop. Suddenly, a bus appears in afar. We sprint like our lives depend on it – heart rate easily 170 – because we have no
idea how long it’ll stay or whether it even stops at this platform. But, as is customary in Italy, nobody is in a rush. Turns out we could’ve strolled over calmly without missing a thing.

Returning the car keys is also an experience. At that hour, the rental office is still closed, but there’s a slot in the door – you simply drop the key through and let it fall onto the floor inside. Interesting system. Still, everything works out fine, and about a week later we get the deposit back. So no drama. The weather on this trip wasn’t exactly generous, but – as always – Italy is still Italy. It’s good. I counted: this was already my ninth time here. And one more fun fact – every
single time Madara has been in Italy, it has rained properly. The Italians apparently insist on soaking Madara. Despite everything, we’re both ready to go back again. In broad strokes, two regions remain unconquered: Sardinia and the heel of Italy – Puglia.