A Special Sunday in Borgo San Giuliano – Rimini

by Osvaldo Bevilacqua 29 January 2026

Condividi la bella notizia

by Sandra Jacopucci

When you think of Rimini, images of summer holidays immediately come to mind: the buzz of nightlife, bicycles bringing the streets to life, long evenings filled with youthful fun. But how beautiful is the sea in winter? A sea that frames a different Rimini — quieter and more surprising — a different sea that seems to breathe slowly, revealing its boundless vastness. The transparency of the water, a gentle breeze accompanying our steps along the deserted beach, and everything around seems to sigh with relief, as if time itself wanted to grant us a pause.

This time, giving up the walk along the shore that Osvaldo and I gladly take every time we come here, the city gifted us a beautiful stroll through the narrow streets of San Giuliano, a small Riminese village considered the northern gateway to the city both by land and sea. It lies next to the Old Port and the Tiberius Bridge, from which two ancient Roman consular roads branch out: the Via Emilia and the Via Pompilia.

*The Tiberius Bridge, a masterpiece of Roman engineering, has connected Rimini’s historic center to Borgo San Giuliano — historically outside the city walls — for over two thousand years.*

With two exceptional travel companions, Francesca Fellini, niece of the great director Federico Fellini, and her husband Graziano Villa, an internationally renowned photographer, we wandered among the colorful house facades where murals inspired by Fellini and images of people who truly lived in the village tell stories suspended in time.

*Graziano Villa, Francesca Fabbri Fellini, Osvaldo Bevilacqua, Sandra Jacopucci.*

An engaging and evocative journey into an era when cinema had an extraordinary charm that today seems locked in a treasure chest, accessible only to those who hold the key. As we walk, the faces of Giulietta Masina appear, portrayed in iconic scenes from her films such as Gelsomina and Zampanò in La Strada,

Marcello Mastroianni and Anita Ekberg in the famous La Dolce Vita scene at the Trevi Fountain;

the lunch at Titta’s house in Amarcord;

Alberto Sordi, star of The White Sheik, emerging from behind the tree branches in the small garden of a red-and-white house next to the wall dedicated to characters from Fellini’s cinema.

Among all those faces, it almost feels as if he himself is fondly watching us as we walk along the cobblestone streets in search of the next mural.

Many of the images dedicated to the Fellinian universe are the work of Agim Sulaj, a painter, illustrator, and cartoonist of Albanian origin, known for helping transform the streets of Borgo San Giuliano into an open-air art gallery.

But other names have left their mark here too: starting with promoter Mauro Dall’Onda, who in 1979 designed the first posters, launching a tradition that continued over the years with many others, up to the most recent works by the Riccione artist Teresio Troll.

Francesca points out to me the refinement of “The Grandfather Emerging from the Fog” by Kiril Cholakov, a Bulgarian artist who has lived here for over twenty years. Inspired by a scene from Amarcord, she explains that the fog is graphically represented by a sentence spoken by the elderly man, written in pencil countless times, where the overlapping marks create a unique chiaroscuro effect.

Francesca Fellini also showed me a short film she wrote — only music and images — born from a drawing her uncle Federico made for her right on Rimini’s beach, titled “La Fellinette”, as he affectionately called her, the little girl with red braids I can still glimpse in her face. She tells me: “I love walking with Penny, my beloved Jack Russell, in this ancient fishermen’s village so dear to Uncle Federico, with its low, colorful houses, like a dream that doesn’t want to fade, carrying the same magic my uncle brought to his films.”

*Journalist Francesca Fabbri Fellini with her Penny.*

She continues: “Osvaldo Bevilacqua and I have come back here many times — he with his curious questions, me with memories surfacing between one alley and another. Every meeting here becomes a fragment, a small Fellinian film set where reality and memory brush against each other without ever fully touching.”

Francesca Fellini with Osvaldo Bevilacqua – 2014

And for those who don’t want to miss a single mural, there is “the village map”, a small courtesy for visitors created by the de borg association with the patronage and contribution of the Municipality of Rimini. Yet the care visible in this maze of streets is certainly due above all to the love and respect of its residents — true guardians of the village and of a street art enriched with personal elements born from each person’s imagination. Though geographically outside the ancient walls of Rimini’s historic center, Borgo San Giuliano is not an appendix of the city, but an identity core.

The Fellini Museum, a creative space reflecting Fellini’s visionary mind, deserves a visit of its own: it will be the reason to return to Rimini again.

We rewarded ourselves with a much-appreciated lunch at an old restaurant serving traditional Romagna cuisine, enriched with a few delicious reinterpretations, while enjoying delightful conversations about our lives, whose many similarities brought us unexpectedly close in a surprising parallel.

These are dishes without special effects, with clear, recognizable flavors. It’s the kind of cuisine I prefer — authentic and without unnecessary additions, meals that leave a mark.

Among many, we tasted thick semolina spaghetti with guanciale, saffron pecorino fondue, and toasted pistachios; tagliolini on Parmesan fondue with poached egg and shaved truffles; pappardelle with wild boar ragù marinated in Sangiovese.

Shortly afterward, we met Stefano Tonini, a local promoter, who accompanied us to the Church of San Giuliano Martire, dating back to the 9th century, perhaps built on a Roman temple. Originally dedicated to Saints Peter and Paul, it belonged to a Benedictine monastery that once owned most of the village. The church, intimate and full of history, welcomes visitors with a warm, confidential atmosphere.

*Church of San Giuliano Martire, 9th century.*

The walls, decorated with frescoes and small testimonies of the past, tell stories of faith and community. Guiding us through these details was the parish priest, Don Paolo Donati, who with rare kindness and passion revealed secrets and curiosities, making every corner come alive with meaning. Don Paolo and his chaplain Don Marino Angelini tell us: “In the 3rd century, during the first great persecution of Christians, in Flaviade in Cilicia (Turkey), the young Julian, refusing to submit to pagan gods, was sentenced to death, sealed in a sack full of venomous snakes and thrown into the sea. The martyr’s body first landed on the Island of Proconnesus.”

Painting depicting “The Martyrdom of Saint Julian” by Paolo Veronese (1588). At the center of the apse stands the stone sarcophagus that once held Saint Julian’s body. Part of his remains are now kept in a glass case beneath the high altar.

A small digression of mine: today this island is called Marmara, due to its marble production. Many materials used for temples in ancient Rome came from those millennia-old quarries, including a very white marble with bluish streaks that was highly sought after and likely chosen to build the sarcophagus that would hold the martyr’s remains.

*Polyptych of 1409 by Bittino da Faenza.*

Don Paolo adds: “The imposing tomb was placed on a cliff overlooking the sea. But in the 10th century the cliff collapsed and the sarcophagus, pushed by angels — so the legend says — miraculously reached the beach of Rimini. It was later placed in the church, which in the 13th century took his name. The 1409 polyptych painted by Bittino da Faenza, now inside, illustrates the saint’s troubled story.” As the saying goes: life, death, and miracles.

The church we can still admire today was renovated in the early 16th century. To its left, a red-brick portico leads to the charming Cinema Tiberio, about 160 seats, recognized by the Ministry of Cultural Heritage as a historic arthouse cinema. Owned by the parish and run by volunteers like Stefano Tonini — who has overseen programming since 1995 — it is coordinated with the collaboration of Paolo Pagliarani, journalist and film critic.

We prepare to return home with our eyes full of Fellinian images, the taste of authentic food, the hidden history of the village, and in our hearts the reflections and laughter of a Sunday made of friendship and rediscovered bonds. Out of sight, the winter sea bids us farewell with its silent vastness, and the city, bathed in a soft, muffled light, seems to guard the secrets of another Rimini — slow and unusual, as only the off-season can be.