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"You're going to Bologna? Mmm, spag. bol., nice." There cannot be many cities that are overshadowed by a stew, but Bologna is certainly one. It might have superb medieval architecture and an ancient university, as well as works of art by Michelangelo and Giambologna - but all anyone seems to know about Bologna is its famous sauce - which, incidentally, is traditionally eaten with tagliatelle not spaghetti.

However this has its benefits. For a start, Bologna is relatively free from the hordes of tourists who swarm over Italy's better known cities. And secondly, there is no pressure to charge around visiting a long list of 'must do' sights when you'd much rather be people watching over a cappuccino.

At the heart of Emilia Romagna, facing the flat Po valley, Bologna was an important settlement for the Etruscans and then the Romans. But it was not until the Middle Ages that it really began to flourish. Its reputation is neatly summed up in the phrase La Dotta et La Rossa - the learned and the red. The 'learned' refers to its university, the oldest in Europe, which was established in 1088 and which helped to create the city's wealth. It has a rich history of its own. One story concerns a woman lecturer, who was said to be so beautiful that she had to give her lectures from behind a curtain for fear of overexciting the students. The 'red' is not, as is commonly supposed, a reference to the fact that it was ruled by the Communists for 50 years. It is due instead to the earthy reds of the medieval buildings which line the streets. There are all shades here from the dull bricks of the towers which punctuate the skyline and the warm terracotta of the roofs; to the delicate pinks on St Petronius' Basilica, and the rich ruby sandstone of the Archiginnasio.

The Archiginnasio is the oldest university building, the brainchild of Pope Pius 1V, who had it built in order to halt the growth of St Petronius' Basilica which was threatening to rival St Peter's in Rome. He cunningly arranged that the Archaginnasio should be placed very close to the walls of the Basilica, effectively limiting its size and ensuring the dominance of Rome. Inside the Archiginnasio is the Teatro Anatomico, the Anatomical Theatre, where dissection of corpses would take place in front of an audience of medical students. Members of the Inquisition would watch the dissections through a panel in the wall and halt the proceedings whenever forbidden topics or areas of the body were touched upon.

If you're interested in all things anatomical and have a strong stomach, it's worth going to the Museum of Normal Human Anatomy in Via Inerio. It is also known as the wax museum but forget Madame Tussauds. This contains detailed wax models of the human body, commissioned by Pope Benedict X1V in 1742 who was concerned at the lack of bodies available for medical students to dissect. As you go in, you are greeted by glass cases in the corridor containing spellati, models of skinned bodies showing the musculature in every detail. They made me feel distinctly queasy and I would have nipped out straight away, but a kind lecturer appeared and offered to show me round, so I felt obliged to keep going. The main room contains models of every part of the body you never wanted to see, as well as wax models of a half dissected man and a pregnant young woman. These were modelled from life and made so accurately that while contemporary doctors were unable to identify the woman's cause of death, experts today have been able to identify a heart problem, which would have proved fatal with the strain of pregnancy. It was all extremely interesting but I must admit that I had no appetite for my lunch that day.

Unlike many Italian cities, Bologna is a good city in which to walk. This is partly because there are fewer mad Vespa riders than usual - they are replaced by mad bicycle riders - but also because of the porticoes. There are around 35km of these arcaded pavements in the city and they are a constant, imposing presence. Some of them, notably those in the smart shopping area of Via Farini, are elaborately decorated. Others are dark and echoing, lending them a medieval, monastic air. I can't help wondering whether they helped to inspire Umberto Eco, author of The Name of the Rose. All life in Bologna shelters under the porticoes: market stalls, cafes, designer stores, restaurants. They are where you walk, where you argue, and where you kiss.

Bologna has plenty of museums, art collections and churches and you can easily be occupied for several days. However it is also a good base for seeing other parts of Italy. It is possible to do day trips to Florence or Verona, for instance. However I chose to take the train to one of the nearby, lesser known towns - Ravenna.

Ravenna is about an hour away by train, a pleasant journey past flat, fertile fields sprinkled with poppies. Now a industrial town, with a pleasant tranquil atmosphere, Ravenna dates back to the 2nd millennium BC. During the 5th century it was capital of the Western Roman Empire and later became an important seat of the Byzantine Empire. It appears unremarkable at first, until you discover the mosaics which stud the walls and ceilings of its many churches and mausoleums. In the Church of S. Vitale they are green and gold - some figures stiff and motionless by artists from the Byzantine school, others full of vitality by those trained in the Hellenistic tradition. In the Mausoleum of Galla Placidia, they are so rich in colour - red, gold and cobalt blue - that it is like stepping into a jewel box. It is a fascinating glimpse of early Christian culture.

While in Ravenna I took the opportunity to visit Dante's tomb, a place of pilgrimage for many Italian students who have had to wrestle with the intricacies of the early Florentine dialect in which he wrote. He died in 1321 but his bones went missing for years, hidden by monks who did not want the city of Florence to have them back. They were only discovered in the last century, in a box in an old house. I can't help wondering how they knew they were his?

Back in Bologna, having had my quota of culture for the day, I sit in the Piazza Maggiore and sip a cappuccino. Old women ride slowly by on their bicycles, a group of men stands discussing the day's events and some young gypsy children play with a ball. Suddenly the ball accidentally hits one of the men on the head. He loses his temper and slaps the child round the face. A woman intervenes and hits him. He shouts at her, one of his friends shouts at him and a very entertaining argument begins. Opposite, the pink stones of St Petronius' Basilica blush deeper in the evening sun. I order another cappuccino and settle down to watch. Who needs spag. bol. when you've got all this?

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