In Padua, a blend of past, present, religion, academia
In the Italian city’s centre, students celebrate graduation from Galileo’s university
I’m in Padua, just half an hour from Venice, but a world away. I really like this town. Padua’s museums and churches hold their own in Italy’s artistic big league, its hotels are reasonably priced and the city doesn’t feel touristy.
Nicknamed “the Brain of Veneto,” Padua (“Padova” in Italian) is home to a prestigious university, founded in 1222, which hosted Galileo, Copernicus, Dante and Petrarch. Pilgrims know Padua as the home of the Basilica of St. Anthony, where the reverent assemble to touch his tomb and ogle his remarkably intact lower jaw and tongue.
And lovers of early-Renaissance art come here to make a pilgrimage of their own: to gaze at the remarkable 14th-century frescoes by Giotto in the Scrovegni Chapel.
When I come here, I like to ramble around Padua’s old town centre. It’s a colonnaded, time-travel experience through some of Italy’s most inviting squares, perfect for lingering over an aperitivo. But it’s not old-time stodgy; this university town has 60,000 students and a wonderfully youthful vibe. No wonder Galileo called his 18 years on the faculty in Padua the best of his life.
All over town, young people, apparently without a lot of private space in their apartments, hang out and kiss and cuddle in public spaces. Since the students can graduate whenever they defend their thesis, I’ve never been here without little graduation parties erupting on the street all day long. Graduates are given a green laurel wreath. Then formal group photos are taken. It’s a sweet, multi-generational scene with family love and pride busting out all over. Then, grandma goes home and the craziness takes over. Sober clothing is replaced by raunchy wear as gangs of friends gather around the new grad in the street in front of the university, and the roast begins. A giant butcher-paper poster with a generally obscene caricature of the student, and a litany of “This-is-YourLife” photos and stories, is presented to the new grad, who, as various embarrassing pranks are pulled, reads the funny statement out loud. The poster is then taped to the university wall for all to see and allowed to stay there for 24 hours. During the roast, the friends sing a catchy, but crude local university anthem, reminding their newly esteemed friend to keep his or her feet on the ground. Once I hear this song, which starts like an Olympic Games fanfare and finishes like a German cartoon: oom-pah-pah, oom-pahpah, and see all the good-natured fun, I just can’t stop singing it. Eventually, I stop humming this profane ditty to seek out Padua’s two main sights: the Basilica of St. Anthony and the Scrovegni Chapel. Friar Anthony of Padua, patron saint of travellers, amputees, donkeys, pregnant women, barren women, flight attendants and pig farmers . . . is buried in the basilica. Construction of this impressive Romanesque-Gothic church started immediately after Anthony’s death in 1231. Gaze past the crowds and through the incense haze to Donatello’s glorious crucifix rising from the altar and realize that this is one of the most important pilgrimage sites in Christendom. In the Chapel of the Reliquaries, you’ll see the basilica’s the most prized relic: Anthony’s tongue. When Anthony’s remains were exhumed 32 years after his death, his body had decayed to dust, but his tongue was found miraculously unspoiled and red in colour. How appropriate for the great preacher who, full of the Spirit, couldn’t stop talking about God. On the opposite side of town is the glorious, renovated Scrovegni Chapel. It’s wallpapered with Giotto’s beautifully preserved cycle of nearly 40 frescoes depicting the lives of Jesus and Mary. Painted by Giotto and his assistants from 1303 to 1305, and considered by many to be the first piece of “modern” art, this work makes it clear: Europe was breaking out of the Middle Ages. From its student vibe to its early-Renaissance masterpieces, Padua is a great place to get chummy with the winds of the past — and connect with the pleasures of the moment. Rick Steves writes European travel guidebooks. Email him at rick@ricksteves.com and follow his blog on Facebook.