Sometimes the main event is not what you suspect.

It’s time for another Ryanair weekend. It’s been a while my Budget Carrier friend; how I’ve missed you.

This time the prime objective is a visit to the tiny Principality of San Marino, nestled in the north of Italy. This was one of those trips we should have done when we lived in Rome, but didn’t get round to it before our time was up and we were whisked away to Belgium against our will. Such is the plight of Two Nomadic Brits – we go where the Queen sends us. Sometimes this works out well, and sometimes it’s not so hot.

So, it’s in and out of Bologna, which we discover is actually a worthy weekend destination in its own right, a brief stop in Rimini – which isn’t – and a sideways jaunt into San Marino.

Easy.

And it really was.

Let’s start with Bologna. When I think back, I remember a town of red. Beautiful crumbling red buildings surrounding me as I sip red wine in a pavement bar watching the world pass by in the heat of a balmy afternoon. Bologna on that first day felt like one of those best kept travel secrets – why had we not been here before? We had lived in Italy for goodness sakes! Why didn’t people say ‘You MUST visit Bologna’ like they say ‘You MUST visit the Atomium’ in relation to Belgium (only people familiar with the great silver monolith will understand that this is no comparison at all – please don’t visit the Atomium expecting an utterly beautiful and breathtaking experience. You may find giant silver balls utterly beautiful, and if you are likely to do so, then please visit by all means. All I can say, is it ain’t my Bologna!).

The Red Streets of Bologna

Back to Bologna and every street has a story to tell. The main Piazza Maggiore houses the Basilica de San Petronio, with three other palazzo one of which is the City Hall, making up the other three sides. The communale building is hosting an exhibition of Vietnamese art which seems an incongruous visual feast of colour competing with the red piazza visible through the giant windows.

The fountain on the adjacent Piazza del Nettuno features four lovelies cupping their breasts from which, no doubt, water spurts when the fountain is fully working. I loved it. So decadent. So Italian.

Fontana del Nettuno

Bologna also has a leaning tower. Not quite Pisa, but a leaning tower nonetheless. We climbed the sister tower next door which gave fabulous views over the town and across to the surrounding hills. A view rivalling that of Florence from the Cathedral.

Bologna from the top of the tower

Just two short days and it was time to wave goodbye and take the train south to Rimini from where we would be able to catch a bus to San Marino.

Rimini suffered for the weather during our brief time there. It pretty much rained the whole time and it reminded me of Skegness in the winter – devoid of character and a drain on good cheer. Good cheer could only be found for us in the small trattoria we found in the fisherman’s district (actually quite nice and where any visitors should spend their time) and not out wandering the streets. It got slightly better at night when the modern centre became lively and the couple of ruins we failed to even notice during the drizzle of the day were beautifully lit.

The seafront out of season was just depressing. I can imagine that during the summer it is a fun filled place with stacks of people having an amazing time on the long expanse of beach which had been sectioned into different beach clubs with varying quality of fake palm trees. We walked the length of the promenade and turned the corner to be confronted with an amazon of a statue gazing out to sea possibly towards the Croatian coastline where no doubt it wasn’t raining, but the Gelato isn’t nearly as good.

When we left in the morning on a public bus to San Marino I didn’t look back.

As we drove away from damp Rimini, the weather continued to close in. Drawing close to San Marino, the surrounding mountains were shrouded in mist. By the time we crossed the border and climbed the mountain in the bus to the top where the entrance gates to the old walled city stand we could hardly see the valley below for the mist. Time for one quick snap before heading through the gates and into the winding streets laden with tat shops and restaurants offering tourist set menus with pictures for €10.

Even as we arrive, the mist is closing in on the valley below San Marino

I’m not quite sure what I expected in San Marino. Without the crowds and with fine weather it would actually be quite lovely. We climbed the winding streets towards the castle and by the time we got there the mist had fully engulfed what is allegedly quite a beautiful sight.

Palazzo Pubblico – you can actually see the mist drawing in

Not for us though those stunning picture postcard views of the castle perched atop the mountain with jaw dropping views across the valley, no sir. Our view was so shrouded in mist that we could barely see three feet in front of us and it wasn’t worth trying to take a picture. One thing saved the day – a macchiato and amaretto. I know. That’s two things.

We were both happy to leave earlier than planned to head back to Bologna; where the view is not so important and the pizza better. We both said we would come back. Now I’m writing this just a week later, I know we won’t; not unless fate gives us a move back to Italy.

For the second time ever, I also paid to have my passport stamped. I’m such a tourist.