Column: Why Italians never worry about the weather

It’s happened to all of us. Before heading out to a day full of classes, we check the weather forecast to ensure we’re aptly prepared for whatever Mother Nature is going to throw at us.

We either walk around all day in rain boots feeling self-conscious about the squeaking noises echoing as we make our way up the stairs of Ballantine Hall, or we have an unused umbrella sticking out of the side of our book bags. Everyone has waited in the pouring rain, using the ever-trusty Indiana Daily Student as an umbrella while looking desperately for the campus bus.

Imagine a world where it doesn’t matter whether it is raining, because either way you will remain dry.

Bologna, Italy, is leagues ahead of the rest of the world in terms of preparedness for the nasty mid-day downpours that plague us all. Here, it is possible to walk the length of the city without leaving the comforts of a covered roof.

Porticos are porches that extend over the entrance of a building, providing shade in the summer and shelter from the rain. Whether the original architects intended it or not, the porticos also keep smokers protected from the elements.

Like many cities in Europe, more than 70 percent of Bologna’s citizens smoke. To protect the inside surfaces of the older buildings, Italian laws have forced smokers to make the move outside.

The porticos that cover the city were inspired by ancient Greece and date back to 1058 A.D., a few years after the founding of the University of Bologna. Bologna has the world record for the longest length of porticos throughout a city at about 28 miles.

The longest of these covered sidewalks leads to San Luca, a church on the outskirts of town. Beginning at Porta Saragozza, a gate located in the southwestern part of the city, this portico stretches across 666 arches.

On the way are shops and small memorials to various saints and churches. The journey ends at the top of Monte della Guardia, or mount guard — a testament to the city’s military that once guarded the citizens at night.

This mount is home to Santuario di San Luca, a circular, salmon-pink church with breathtaking mosaics and murals older than America.

So the next time you sprint toward a bus with foggy windows, try not to envy the convenience the Bolognese have as they walk leisurely underneath the porticos that shield them from both the elements and the embarrassment.