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Published: March 18th 2008
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"Hello is Mrs Bent..ivg..olio.. there?"
People mess up my last name allllll the time. In fact, if you don't, I am immediately impressed and automatically like you. Italy knows me!
Italy is the ancestral home of the Bentivoglio family. I've always been brought up to be very proud of the name and the history of the family. The fact that the lineage can be traced back to the time of the Renaissance has always made me proud and I could often be heard saying "we're in the dictionary!" in my snotty little voice as a kid. The family crest was subtly displayed above the mantle for years and I was more than excited to finally see some concrete evidence with my own eyes, both by checking out Bologna - their old-times seat of power, and the town of Bentivoglio and the castle, both of which my parents had unknowingly stumbled upon, on their honeymoon or something or other waaay back in the 70s. I wanted to see this castle; I was very intent on seeing the castle, so as soon as I was rested from the passage from Greece I started asking when we were going to
see it.
Florence was first to visit and the next day was a Sunday - F1 Sunday of course and of course my dad had to watch the race. This did not leave us with much of the day to explore Italy, which put me in a sour mood. But finally, the race was over and my uncle, eager to fulfill my every whim, said we should go, and so, my cousin, my uncle, my father and I jumped in the car and he started navigating. I was placated. However, we arrived in a town called Gualtieri, which is not Bologna, and not Bentivoglio. I called bullshit. But it turned out to be a place of importance for the Bentivoglio as the town square was called Piazza Bentivoglio and it turned out there was a palace as well. We didn't see much of the town, as the palazzo housed an art gallery allowing us to enter. The art was whatever; what was interesting was that in this large room with high ceilings, there were frescoes in disrepair covering the walls. The contemporary art was exhibited on movable walls about six feet high, which left space to see all
the frescoes from beyond the six feet. My uncle found someone and started asking for the history of the building, and presented some living, breathing Bentivoglios, though I just wandered. The lecture was going on in Italian anyway, and I hadn't brushed up on it enough to catch it all. There was a special room though, that stood empty in the gallery, it was an old chapel, which had been a gift to the family, or from the family, via another family. I liked it. I recognized an element of the crest incorporated into the walls. Upon leaving, we drove to the banks of the Po River, the largest in Italy. Strange feelings for this town, but more importantly, we went home to eat dinner yu-ummm!
The next day we made the long drive to Bologna. I remember it being very hot, there being a LOT of motorcycles and scooters, and having an otherwise big-city feel. We had to park on the outskirts of the city and take a taxi into the center of town, as regular cars are not allowed. The architecture is very impressive and the city exudes grandeur. Unless I am mistaken Bologna housed the
first University. The city itself seems proud and if I had to choose one word and a slogan to describe it, I would choose the word "achievement." And their slogan? - "better than you" which narrowly beats out "I'm so great." The very bricks are proud; they have stood there for centuries after all. The reason I get that feeling can be explained by the towers of Bologna. At some point in the city's history, a family of power, to display their greatness, would commission the building of a tower. Impressive. Until their neighbour built a taller one the following year 😊 There are two enormous towers topping 80 feet in height, and I think that put an end to the trend. I climbed one of them and it took some courage - the stairs are made of wood, and looking down is kind of scary. Nonetheless, in the short window of time I spent in Bologna, aside from a sidewalk lunch and afternoon stroll, that was it.
From Bologna we pushed on and found the town of Bentivoglio. There IS a castle! In partial ruin, interesting nonetheless. It had a humble tower of its own, and what
looked like could have been a depression for an ancient moat. It had castle walls and everything! On the walls were painted fading red crosses because during wartime, it housed a hospital. We drove around the perimeter, took some pictures, but could not enter because now it houses a cancer research facility, and their work is important enough to merit peace from tourists. Everything in the town was named Bentivoglio! Hotel Bentivoglio, Pasticeria Bentivoglio, etc.. I demanded we stop and buy something so that I could use my visa with my name on it in a place with my name. It was surreal. For North Americans, the name is complicated enough. My name has been bastardized and bungled so many times, it was just, really nice to be somewhere that it would be known by default. As I signed K.Bentivoglio on the purchase slip below the Pasticeria Bentivoglio name, it felt really strange. What I really wanted was for the shopkeepers to notice and treat me like a celeb, but they didn't, so that was that, hopped back into the car to be home in time for dinner.
Throughout all the above experiences my dad made me play
a fun game (or annoying after a while) "take a picture of anything and everything that says Bentivoglio." Great. Which is why I end up with so many pictures of signs.
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matthew bentivoglio
non-member comment
hey
nice to meet u