Le Due Torri: Climbing the towers of Bologna

Pisa's Leaning Tower has got nothing on Bologna's twin towers - that's right, we've got two of them.

Although Bologna can seem like a town where time has stood still whenever you walk through the porticoes or along the Roman roads, a few hundred years ago its landscape was completely different. Its horizon was peppered with over 100 towers like a medieval Manhattan, which must have crowded the tiny centre. No one knows why quite so many towers were necessary, but the more convincing hypotheses suggest the richer families of the region built them for a combination of defensive reasons, spying on enemy families, or just to show off their own wealth and power (feel free to insert your own joke about Italian men and their preoccupation with size).

Of the few which are still standing, Asinelli and its little sister Garisenda are the most famous and have become the main symbols of the city. The latter even gets a cheeky mention in Dante's Commedia, where he likens it to the leaning Antaeus. I don't know what it is with Italians and wonky construction, but the Bologna towers are at a significant slant in opposite directions, as though they could collapse into each other at any moment. Garisenda leans at a three degree angle, which is more impressive than it sounds; today it is unsafe for entry, and it had to have several metres chopped off it in the 14th century to stop it toppling over, all of which makes Pisa look positively vertical.

A sign with the relevant passage from Inferno

Meanwhile, the title of Italy's tallest leaning tower goes to Asinelli, which is open to the public. Local superstitions claim that those who climb it will either break up with their boyfriend/girlfriend or never graduate from university, but whilst Jason was here we threw caution to the wind, paid our 3 euros and began the ascent. Little plaques in the wall let you know when you reach milestones such as the height of Garisenda and the Leaning Tower of Pisa, both of which stand at around half the height of Asinelli. I hadn't quite appreciated just how high the tower was; when you think you've nearly reached the top, you realise you're not even halfway, and the climb is made more challenging by the rickety staircases which are scarily narrow at times and considerably eroded by centuries' worth of footsteps.

It's worth persevering though, and 498 steps and just shy of 100 metres later, we emerged triumphant. The uppermost floors of Asinelli were used as a prison hundreds of years ago, but to be honest I can imagine worse places to be locked up; the views are breathtaking. The terracotta patchwork of rooves that make up the centro storico are enclosed by rolling hills, with the 10 main streets cutting through the city like spokes of a wheel. You can also spot the other remaining towers, which have somehow blended seamlessly into the modern landscape, to the point that you barely notice them when walking around town.