Almost none of the locals stay in Bologna during the summer, instead choosing to flee the heat and humidity and head to the coast at August. Rimini is a popular choice with nearly everyone I've met here; it's Italy's answer to Ibiza with sandy beaches and nightlife galore, and last Saturday we arrived at this same beachfront, one of Europe's longest, lined with identikit hotels and bars. What with it being October and freezing cold, these were all closed, and the marina had become a ghost town - save for one mental Italian woman enjoying a sub-zero swim. Instead, we headed towards the lesser-frequented city centre. It's home to several Roman monuments, the most famous being the Arco di Augusto and the Ponte di Tiberio, both of which were suitably impressive if you're into that sort of thing, but out of season it's not the most exciting of visits.
The main reason we went was actually as a stop en route to the nearby country of San Marino, and after a couple of hours wandering round Rimini, we hopped back into the coach to continue the journey. Although geographically slap bang in the middle of Italy, The Most Serene Republic of San Marino isn't part of the EU and has its own government - not to mention a fairly sizeable army, made up of 1 in every 60 of its population.
There was one slight glitch; despite San Marino's USP being its status as a microstate, all three of us Brits on the coach had managed to forget our passports. Our fears were confirmed when the guy leading the trip made an announcement, reminding us that San Marino was a separate state, and you need ID documents to enter... he added cheerfully that it had all been written in the email, but that every year several students forget so we wouldn't be alone if we were left to wait on the bus. Err, brilliant. We consoled ourselves with the thought that getting refused entry to a country was a 'great story', but the prospect of going all that way just to sit forlornly on the coach all afternoon was just a bit too tragic.
As it turned out, all was OK. The Erasmus guy casually informed us ten minutes later that the announcement about ID was a 'scherzo', casting a little smirk in our flustered, and now rather embarrassed, direction. And who said the Italians can't do banter. Still, I was less than impressed that he made me doubt my email reading skills.
It was a good job we were allowed into San Marino though, as it was a much more memorable visit than Rimini. The third smallest state in Europe and, so it claims, the world's oldest republic, San Marino is made up of several towns, with its hilltop capital, City (and they're using that word in its broadest, or rather tiniest, sense) of San Marino as its crowning glory.
The highlight is the castle, made up of three tower fortresses perched atop Mount Titano. Each tower clings to the cliffedge, looking impressive and mystical surrounded by clouds as they overlook the rest of Italy.
San Marino seemed very tourist orientated, and gift shop after gift shop lined the steep walk up to the towers, selling everything from San Marino snow globes to phallic bottles of limoncello. It also boasts a fair few museums for its tiny size; we passed the Museum of Modern Weapons, Museum of Ancient Weapons, Museum of Torture, Museum of Instruments of Torture...you can see a bit of a theme developing here.
Sadly, there wasn't time to broaden our knowledge of weapons and/or torture, as we spent our time there walking up to the first tower, which you can go inside and climb to the top of. It offers some of the best, most fairytale-esque views I've ever seen, both of the landscapes below and of its sister tower.
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