It is always so easy in the guidebooks.
Rick Steves says take such-and-such a train. Frommers say: Of course you can see the major Roman Ruins in a morning and tour the Vatican in the afternoon. And you'll have time for a coffee, a lazy lunch, and a stroll, too. Don't believe them. Lord knows, I know not to. Still, I hadn't expected our trip to Vesuvius would be so...trippy.
After leaving our flat in Sorrento - a low ceilinged affair managed by a sweet young man named Luigi - we got back on the local train to head to Vesuvius via Pompeii (which we plan to see on Wednesday) Frankly, the area reminds me a bit of Mexico. Houses made of terra cotta, plastic, terraces, balconies, loads of lemon and orange trees, wandering animals, too much trash strewn about.
The train isn't quite on time. We've been trying to validate our 3 day tickets for days. Where is the mythical validation box? We've tried three. Italian shrug. They let us through. We could probably spend several days on these passes. Then we arrive in Pompeii Scavi. The guidebook doesn't really say how to get the bus to Vesuvius. Where, yes. How, no. Joe runs madly back to the train station to get tickets then back down to the town square (which really isn't a square so much as a collection of parking lots for Pompeii.)
http://www.songsong.at/SS%20webimages/Huey/4web/ash%20cloud.jpg
The bus ride up, up, up to about 3000 feet and then the guidebook noted stop. We must listen to the 15 minute information talk by 82 year old Andrea de Gregorio "The Vesuvius Keeper." He had grown up close to Vesuvius, and seen the 1944 explosion. He kept the narrative flowing back and forth from French, to English to Italian. It is a national skill. Andrea was a character, a man who had run the old funicular for years until and earthquake took it out. The state of Campania had said it would take two years to repair, fifteen years ago. Andrea muttered something about Greenpeace. He was charming. He sold us his book, which included information, a picture with him and his very proudly given thumbprint.
Then the kicker - he has a website: andreadegregorio.too.it
Back in the bus, and up in the clouds. We were not going to see much of anything, let alone a smoking volcano. Still, Ted, in his goat-like way, ran up, Joe and Elle hiking and talking. And me in the rear, guarding my breath. Oh you could get a frozen twix and a glass of Lacrima Christi (Christ's tears) but you could not see anything. After a while I headed down to the cafe near the bus stop. This was a small affair with a bar, gift shop of assorted things including playing cards representing the pornographic scenes from Pompeii's "special" frescoes housed in the archaeological museum in Naples and several CDs of mandolin music of Naples (don't worry Lynn, I got you one!) There were a half a dozen men huddled by an old potbellied stove. They offered me a seat, a coffee and cigarettes. I took one and two and repeated l declined three.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA0ZJwTupul8eOBdu3ycIuJhx7VHPrEBmx5zsjsaC5M4ehEcjz6iHRLRYBbKXL_Gg6fQ_ZTKJ6zgM4YhyphenhyphenKO11vaajAF6Id3uWXdYcwKJpp9fSwj_mLwIygK6WXhbdYM2ql9bg5lWzVJRM/s400/vesuvius3.jpg
All around us the cloud thickened. Eventually my family returned. Soaked from the condensation and laughing. The kids played with the stray dogs that covered the mountain. We waited. I bought my CD and a small bottle of tears (red.) No bus. More coffee. No bus. Did we want a sandwich? No, grazie. No bus. It was starting to feel like something from Artaud. More tourists waiting. Overlapping. Trying their iPhones and Blackberrys. More coffee. Finally a bus.
The five men huddled around the stove. Chatting, waiting. They will do it all again tomorrow. And I must dream of Vesuvius.
Monday, December 28, 2009
Two Sides of the Same Coin - Just Call me Janus!
I just keep having a sense of knowing people here. The ladies in furs, great noses, well coiffed - my aunts. Men gesturing, pointing, during dinner, sipping wine from small glasses - my uncles. The direct bright eyes of a guide, a sales person, drawing you in, suggesting, calming, laughing - my cousins. And it gets stronger the longer we are here.
http://goeurope.about.com/library/graphics/italy_rail_map.gif
We traveled south of Rome yesterday to Naples, which should mark nothing in particular, but marks much in terms of Italy and my own Italian heritage. My earliest memories of my Italian side of my family include mention of "where so-and-so came from on the boot." You see, information A (location) would tell you loads about B (motivation, personality, etc.) The farther north - Venezia, Milan, Firenze. The fairer haired, eyed, calmer, more organized, but, perhaps, maybe, not so fun-loving...The more southern, darker, more passionate, more temper. Gross exaggerations filtered through the mind of a six year old, but there you have it. Now how does this live in me? Well, as best as I can understand it, I am a mixture - a great grandmother from Florence, a grandfather from Manoppello, Abruzo (directly east of Rome), and family from Naples. Which makes me fair haired, passionately organized and prone to moments of temper. Oh.
http://www.timesonline.co.uk/multimedia/archive/00146/Italian_train_146885a.jpg
So yesterday, it was with great curiosity that I boarded the train south. We have been traveling in second class - cheaper and by far more interesting in terms of contact with the Italian people. As we pulled out of the station, I heard a different Italian. It was faster, more musical, harder to make out - passionate. Hands were moving more. People were chatting more. Hmmmm...During our trip, for the first time, an Italian lady sitting next to Joe, after staring for several minutes, began to talk to us about where we were going. Our not understanding Italian did not deter her. She learned we were going to Sorrento. She pointed to our guide book, kept repeating her thoughts and them eventually pulled in the lady sitting next to Elle to translate. She lived in Naples. Had we been their before? Sorrento. Lovely. She went to convent school there. The nuns were kind. She heard they rented rooms. Did we need a place to stay?
This was not a northern conversation; it was southern.
http://images.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://www.exodus.co.uk/assets/images/trips/maps/trips/avg.jpg&imgrefurl=http://www.exodus.co.uk/holidays/avg/itinerary&usg=__-Mlu9_3zI_J8SaoLbFh-Y8_xlVk=&h=788&w=782&sz=291&hl=en&start=4&um=1&tbnid=BBjo6-IkrW-iuM:&tbnh=143&tbnw=142&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dimage%2Bbay%2Bof%2BNaples%26hl%3Den%26client%3Dsafari%26rls%3Den-us%26sa%3DN%26um%3D1
We got to the train station. We all clutched our bags. The rumors about the dangers of getting robbed are not fiction. 30 percent of Naples is unemployed. The city is crowded and poor. Hold onto your purse. The Naples train station, and worse yet the Circumvesusia Station (the local train that runs out to Sorrento) are rough places, and while we aren't screamingly American (people start by addressing us in French or Italian as much as English) we AREN'T local!
On the way off the train the lady gave me a look - mom to mom - which said: "keep a hold of your kids, your bag, your wallet!" Sí, grazie. Naples is lovely, interesting, she was telling me, but it had a bite. Oh.
http://www.vtf-vacances.com/voyages/img/costa-concordia/bay-of-naples.jpg
http://goeurope.about.com/library/graphics/italy_rail_map.gif
We traveled south of Rome yesterday to Naples, which should mark nothing in particular, but marks much in terms of Italy and my own Italian heritage. My earliest memories of my Italian side of my family include mention of "where so-and-so came from on the boot." You see, information A (location) would tell you loads about B (motivation, personality, etc.) The farther north - Venezia, Milan, Firenze. The fairer haired, eyed, calmer, more organized, but, perhaps, maybe, not so fun-loving...The more southern, darker, more passionate, more temper. Gross exaggerations filtered through the mind of a six year old, but there you have it. Now how does this live in me? Well, as best as I can understand it, I am a mixture - a great grandmother from Florence, a grandfather from Manoppello, Abruzo (directly east of Rome), and family from Naples. Which makes me fair haired, passionately organized and prone to moments of temper. Oh.
http://www.timesonline.co.uk/multimedia/archive/00146/Italian_train_146885a.jpg
So yesterday, it was with great curiosity that I boarded the train south. We have been traveling in second class - cheaper and by far more interesting in terms of contact with the Italian people. As we pulled out of the station, I heard a different Italian. It was faster, more musical, harder to make out - passionate. Hands were moving more. People were chatting more. Hmmmm...During our trip, for the first time, an Italian lady sitting next to Joe, after staring for several minutes, began to talk to us about where we were going. Our not understanding Italian did not deter her. She learned we were going to Sorrento. She pointed to our guide book, kept repeating her thoughts and them eventually pulled in the lady sitting next to Elle to translate. She lived in Naples. Had we been their before? Sorrento. Lovely. She went to convent school there. The nuns were kind. She heard they rented rooms. Did we need a place to stay?
This was not a northern conversation; it was southern.
http://images.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://www.exodus.co.uk/assets/images/trips/maps/trips/avg.jpg&imgrefurl=http://www.exodus.co.uk/holidays/avg/itinerary&usg=__-Mlu9_3zI_J8SaoLbFh-Y8_xlVk=&h=788&w=782&sz=291&hl=en&start=4&um=1&tbnid=BBjo6-IkrW-iuM:&tbnh=143&tbnw=142&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dimage%2Bbay%2Bof%2BNaples%26hl%3Den%26client%3Dsafari%26rls%3Den-us%26sa%3DN%26um%3D1
We got to the train station. We all clutched our bags. The rumors about the dangers of getting robbed are not fiction. 30 percent of Naples is unemployed. The city is crowded and poor. Hold onto your purse. The Naples train station, and worse yet the Circumvesusia Station (the local train that runs out to Sorrento) are rough places, and while we aren't screamingly American (people start by addressing us in French or Italian as much as English) we AREN'T local!
On the way off the train the lady gave me a look - mom to mom - which said: "keep a hold of your kids, your bag, your wallet!" Sí, grazie. Naples is lovely, interesting, she was telling me, but it had a bite. Oh.
http://www.vtf-vacances.com/voyages/img/costa-concordia/bay-of-naples.jpg
Saturday, December 26, 2009
The Book of Questions
Poet Pablo Neruda wrote THE BOOK OF QUESTIONS 1973. A reflection of all he had encountered is his well-traveled life. Travel, I think, raises more questions than provides answers.
And so silly, mundane, thinking too hard, not thinking hard enough...are my questions from being in Italy.
What does Rome on the indifferent Tiber
a river ignored by its people
rather than the pulsing mar
like all the rest of Italy's sea-faring tribe?
/Users/TED/Desktop/photos/bridge-over-tiber-river.jpg
Why marble floors
but no toilet seats?
Can anything taste better
than a warm plate of Carbonara
encircled in white pepper
at a wooden paneled cafe
surrounded by you three?
How did Bernini carve the fragile leaves
and emerging skin of bark
springing so life-like
from the young Daphne's body?
And the Apollo -
How to chisel his demanding hand squeezing
her marble flesh as his foot
- light, fluid - floats about to step forward
for three hundred years?
http://farm1.static.flickr.com/46/128984584_8748986fb5.jpg?v=0
How do you build a perfect dome? How?
What kind of poor parenting
or genetic defect
produced a Nero or Caligula?
And why didn't people
stop them?
Who did the plumbing for the Trevi fountain? Now
THERE'S a plumber!
Why can't I see light the way
Caravaggio sees
light? Cool, warm, sacred.
I shall begin warming my milk for my coffee
immediately when I return
home. Why not before?
Has any place paid as much attention to the
ceiling as Italy?
Even the crown moldings in our apartment
make me weep from their beauty!
CAN Venice be saved?
What has overcome my husband?
He has eaten Torrone and chestnuts
more than once,
Drunk wine
more than once,
worn a scarf elegantly knotted about his neck
repeatedly,
and wants ANOTHER, finally,
ceased to worry...much.
Can I prevent
a recovery?
Arcades and fields of cafe chairs
Waiters in crisp black suits
demitasse cups foaming
America - what will it take to make you wake up
and smell the coffee
never in a paper cup?
What kind of ego/confidence
made the Roman Forum?
The scale, the grandeur?
Is it belief in people?
Belief in power?
Belief that marble can solve problems?
Am I really planning to pack fresh green beans
and artichokes
and take them to Sorrento?
Do you ever adjust to
Italian girls - lashes down -
browsing your lissome son?
Italian boys, sliding their eyes
over your hipster, purple leather clad
daughter?
What is cozier than lunch on a train?
What a way
to expose yourself artistically:
carve something in marble
and allow people to walk about it, searching
for flaws from 360 degrees.
Could you take it?
How did they know to take shards of rock
melted, fused with other colored stone
poured, pulled into
a tinted goblet
complete with a magic ring?
Fresco?????
/Users/TED/Desktop/photos/images-15.jpeg
How will these new ideas
fold into old ones?
Arrivederci Roma. When will I return?
And so silly, mundane, thinking too hard, not thinking hard enough...are my questions from being in Italy.
What does Rome on the indifferent Tiber
a river ignored by its people
rather than the pulsing mar
like all the rest of Italy's sea-faring tribe?
/Users/TED/Desktop/photos/bridge-over-tiber-river.jpg
Why marble floors
but no toilet seats?
Can anything taste better
than a warm plate of Carbonara
encircled in white pepper
at a wooden paneled cafe
surrounded by you three?
How did Bernini carve the fragile leaves
and emerging skin of bark
springing so life-like
from the young Daphne's body?
And the Apollo -
How to chisel his demanding hand squeezing
her marble flesh as his foot
- light, fluid - floats about to step forward
for three hundred years?
http://farm1.static.flickr.com/46/128984584_8748986fb5.jpg?v=0
How do you build a perfect dome? How?
What kind of poor parenting
or genetic defect
produced a Nero or Caligula?
And why didn't people
stop them?
Who did the plumbing for the Trevi fountain? Now
THERE'S a plumber!
Why can't I see light the way
Caravaggio sees
light? Cool, warm, sacred.
I shall begin warming my milk for my coffee
immediately when I return
home. Why not before?
Has any place paid as much attention to the
ceiling as Italy?
Even the crown moldings in our apartment
make me weep from their beauty!
CAN Venice be saved?
What has overcome my husband?
He has eaten Torrone and chestnuts
more than once,
Drunk wine
more than once,
worn a scarf elegantly knotted about his neck
repeatedly,
and wants ANOTHER, finally,
ceased to worry...much.
Can I prevent
a recovery?
Arcades and fields of cafe chairs
Waiters in crisp black suits
demitasse cups foaming
America - what will it take to make you wake up
and smell the coffee
never in a paper cup?
What kind of ego/confidence
made the Roman Forum?
The scale, the grandeur?
Is it belief in people?
Belief in power?
Belief that marble can solve problems?
Am I really planning to pack fresh green beans
and artichokes
and take them to Sorrento?
Do you ever adjust to
Italian girls - lashes down -
browsing your lissome son?
Italian boys, sliding their eyes
over your hipster, purple leather clad
daughter?
What is cozier than lunch on a train?
What a way
to expose yourself artistically:
carve something in marble
and allow people to walk about it, searching
for flaws from 360 degrees.
Could you take it?
How did they know to take shards of rock
melted, fused with other colored stone
poured, pulled into
a tinted goblet
complete with a magic ring?
Fresco?????
/Users/TED/Desktop/photos/images-15.jpeg
How will these new ideas
fold into old ones?
Arrivederci Roma. When will I return?
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Why it is called "Eternal"
Rome is a city made for walking. Large boulevards, smaller pedestrian streets, charming piazzas, cafes, ruins springing up when you least expect them. But it is also a living catalogue of human history. I feel that here in a way I have only experienced in a few other places in the world - China, Mexico City and most especially in Athens.
http://www.paradoxplace.com/Perspectives/Rome%20&%20Central%20Italy/Rome/Rome_Maps/map_of_rome_7.jpg
I spent my Junior Year in college in Athens and adored it. It had the same sense of layering and surprise that wraps around Rome like a smooth coating of chocolate on a truffle. But Athens and Rome wear it differently. Thirty years ago in Athens I had an amazing conversation with a man who had invited a friend and I to his apartment balcony that overlooked the Acropolis. He essentially told us that modern Athenians found Ancient Athens a burden, a legacy that they simply didn't live up to. Worse, modern Greeks rather resented the fact that many people (including many students) came to Athens to study people long dead and a language no one spoke.
I knew he was right. The majority of the students in my program - College Year in Athens - could be bothered with the modern Greeks, their politics, language, world. While the group from my college was somewhat different (we had been required to study modern Greek as well as take current cultures class before traveling to Greece) nevertheless there was no doubt the general bent was the Ancient World.
Rome is another experience entirely.
The Eternal CIty. It makes sense to me now. Rome is, of course, its ancient self, but is also the period of christianization, the "dark ages", Thomas Aquinas, Renaissance, Baroque, Rocco, Futurism. It is Flavium to Fendi.
The last three days we having be walking, walking, walking. We circled from our apartment near Santa Maria de Popolo (11th century) http://www.paradoxplace.com/Perspectives/Rome%20&%20Central%20Italy/Rome/Rome_Churches/Santa_Maria_del_Popolo/Images/800/SMdelPopolo-Oct06-D3334sAR800.jpg
to the Trevi Fountain (17th century)
/Users/TED/Pictures/iPhoto Library/Originals/2009/Mar 29, 2009/SDC10188.JPG
to the Monument built for Vittorio Emanuele II (19th century)
/Users/TED/Pictures/iPhoto Library/Originals/2009/Mar 29, 2009/SDC10194.JPG
past the Trajan Markets 1st century A.D.)
/Users/TED/Pictures/iPhoto Library/Originals/2009/Mar 29, 2009/SDC10197.JPG
the Forum of Augustus (1st century B.C.)
http://employees.oneonta.edu/farberas/arth/Images/109images/Roman/augustanarch/forum_augustus_temp.jpg
The Arch of Constantine (4th century)
/Users/TED/Pictures/iPhoto Library/Originals/2009/Mar 29, 2009/SDC10210.JPG
Stopped for lunch and had Lunette de Trufo (200 A.D. or earlier) (raviolis with almond, ricotta, brocollini in truffle sauce..delish)
http://img220.imageshack.us/img220/6978/lanoce3uw3.jpg
then went onto the Coloseum (1st century)
/Users/TED/Pictures/iPhoto Library/Originals/2009/Mar 29, 2009/SDC10206.JPG
/Users/TED/Pictures/iPhoto Library/Originals/2009/Mar 29, 2009/SDC10222.JPG
Took the metro to Piazza de Spagna (18th century) , down Via de Condotti (ancient Rome to modern times) -
can you say PradaGucciBerberryPerlaFendiChanel? This included a concierge and line outside of Louis Vuitton. to Via de Corso (2nd century B.C. formerly via Lata) and perhaps the only straight street in Rome connecting Piazza Venezia to Piazza de Popolo.
http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/a/a1/Via_del_Corso.jpg
We shopped, then home to Via Cesare de Beccaria. (19th century).
The next day we spent the morning at the Roman Forum (7th century B.C.)
/Users/TED/Pictures/iPhoto Library/Originals/2009/Mar 29, 2009/SDC10249.JPG
Palentine Hill, and Capitoline Hill (10 century B.C. through the present.) We saw the bronze of the She-wolf suckling Romulus and Remus (5th century B.C.)
/Users/TED/Pictures/iPhoto Library/Originals/2009/Mar 29, 2009/SDC10281.JPG
We gazed at bits and pieces of the Colossus, the awing statue of Marcus Aurelius (176 A.D.) and the Piazza Campidoglio of Michelangelo, which, like Saint Peter's, took marble from one antiquity to create another. Theft? Recycling? A bit of both.
http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/d/d8/CampidoglioEng.jpg
Then ten more minutes to the Pantheon. (126 A.D.) and finally gelato....yummy.
/Users/TED/Pictures/iPhoto Library/Originals/2009/Mar 29, 2009/SDC10288.JPG
Then to Piazza Navona, which dates from the games or agones of Nero, to see the Christmas Markets. Festive, Can you say giant donut?
/Users/TED/Pictures/iPhoto Library/Originals/2009/Mar 29, 2009/SDC10292.JPG
/Users/TED/Pictures/iPhoto Library/Originals/2009/Mar 29, 2009/SDC10295.JPG
and a wander home past the Tiber, the church housing Michelangelo's MOSES, the Futurist Museum.........Are you tired reading this? Is your brain full? Let's just say we were actually GRATEFUL most things were closed on Christmas Day so we could just relax and let it all soak in like rum into a traditional baba (which I also ate; thank god we're walking!)
The point is Roman time, like Jewish time, is not a linear thing. It weaves in and out. The past is the future. Rome is a really like a fine Italian wool coat; it is always being re-made, re-cut to fit the current user. Anyone can wear it and look marvelous. Eternal.
Buon Natale!
http://www.paradoxplace.com/Perspectives/Rome%20&%20Central%20Italy/Rome/Rome_Maps/map_of_rome_7.jpg
I spent my Junior Year in college in Athens and adored it. It had the same sense of layering and surprise that wraps around Rome like a smooth coating of chocolate on a truffle. But Athens and Rome wear it differently. Thirty years ago in Athens I had an amazing conversation with a man who had invited a friend and I to his apartment balcony that overlooked the Acropolis. He essentially told us that modern Athenians found Ancient Athens a burden, a legacy that they simply didn't live up to. Worse, modern Greeks rather resented the fact that many people (including many students) came to Athens to study people long dead and a language no one spoke.
I knew he was right. The majority of the students in my program - College Year in Athens - could be bothered with the modern Greeks, their politics, language, world. While the group from my college was somewhat different (we had been required to study modern Greek as well as take current cultures class before traveling to Greece) nevertheless there was no doubt the general bent was the Ancient World.
Rome is another experience entirely.
The Eternal CIty. It makes sense to me now. Rome is, of course, its ancient self, but is also the period of christianization, the "dark ages", Thomas Aquinas, Renaissance, Baroque, Rocco, Futurism. It is Flavium to Fendi.
The last three days we having be walking, walking, walking. We circled from our apartment near Santa Maria de Popolo (11th century) http://www.paradoxplace.com/Perspectives/Rome%20&%20Central%20Italy/Rome/Rome_Churches/Santa_Maria_del_Popolo/Images/800/SMdelPopolo-Oct06-D3334sAR800.jpg
to the Trevi Fountain (17th century)
/Users/TED/Pictures/iPhoto Library/Originals/2009/Mar 29, 2009/SDC10188.JPG
to the Monument built for Vittorio Emanuele II (19th century)
/Users/TED/Pictures/iPhoto Library/Originals/2009/Mar 29, 2009/SDC10194.JPG
past the Trajan Markets 1st century A.D.)
/Users/TED/Pictures/iPhoto Library/Originals/2009/Mar 29, 2009/SDC10197.JPG
the Forum of Augustus (1st century B.C.)
http://employees.oneonta.edu/farberas/arth/Images/109images/Roman/augustanarch/forum_augustus_temp.jpg
The Arch of Constantine (4th century)
/Users/TED/Pictures/iPhoto Library/Originals/2009/Mar 29, 2009/SDC10210.JPG
Stopped for lunch and had Lunette de Trufo (200 A.D. or earlier) (raviolis with almond, ricotta, brocollini in truffle sauce..delish)
http://img220.imageshack.us/img220/6978/lanoce3uw3.jpg
then went onto the Coloseum (1st century)
/Users/TED/Pictures/iPhoto Library/Originals/2009/Mar 29, 2009/SDC10206.JPG
/Users/TED/Pictures/iPhoto Library/Originals/2009/Mar 29, 2009/SDC10222.JPG
Took the metro to Piazza de Spagna (18th century) , down Via de Condotti (ancient Rome to modern times) -
can you say PradaGucciBerberryPerlaFendiChanel? This included a concierge and line outside of Louis Vuitton. to Via de Corso (2nd century B.C. formerly via Lata) and perhaps the only straight street in Rome connecting Piazza Venezia to Piazza de Popolo.
http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/a/a1/Via_del_Corso.jpg
We shopped, then home to Via Cesare de Beccaria. (19th century).
The next day we spent the morning at the Roman Forum (7th century B.C.)
/Users/TED/Pictures/iPhoto Library/Originals/2009/Mar 29, 2009/SDC10249.JPG
Palentine Hill, and Capitoline Hill (10 century B.C. through the present.) We saw the bronze of the She-wolf suckling Romulus and Remus (5th century B.C.)
/Users/TED/Pictures/iPhoto Library/Originals/2009/Mar 29, 2009/SDC10281.JPG
We gazed at bits and pieces of the Colossus, the awing statue of Marcus Aurelius (176 A.D.) and the Piazza Campidoglio of Michelangelo, which, like Saint Peter's, took marble from one antiquity to create another. Theft? Recycling? A bit of both.
http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/d/d8/CampidoglioEng.jpg
Then ten more minutes to the Pantheon. (126 A.D.) and finally gelato....yummy.
/Users/TED/Pictures/iPhoto Library/Originals/2009/Mar 29, 2009/SDC10288.JPG
Then to Piazza Navona, which dates from the games or agones of Nero, to see the Christmas Markets. Festive, Can you say giant donut?
/Users/TED/Pictures/iPhoto Library/Originals/2009/Mar 29, 2009/SDC10292.JPG
/Users/TED/Pictures/iPhoto Library/Originals/2009/Mar 29, 2009/SDC10295.JPG
and a wander home past the Tiber, the church housing Michelangelo's MOSES, the Futurist Museum.........Are you tired reading this? Is your brain full? Let's just say we were actually GRATEFUL most things were closed on Christmas Day so we could just relax and let it all soak in like rum into a traditional baba (which I also ate; thank god we're walking!)
The point is Roman time, like Jewish time, is not a linear thing. It weaves in and out. The past is the future. Rome is a really like a fine Italian wool coat; it is always being re-made, re-cut to fit the current user. Anyone can wear it and look marvelous. Eternal.
Buon Natale!
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Il Papa's House
The Vatican. What an idea, really. A country within a country. A series of art museums so vast it would take months, perhaps years to really see all that is inside. A place where hundreds of dead Popes are buried. Bottom floor of the crypt for regular guy popes. 1st floor for the sainted. The Vatican. A space designed to pray to a Christian god made almost entirely from the marble remains of the pagan place thousands of gladiators died.
http://www.biada.org/web/materies/artsdidactica/art/arquit/barroc/sperevatica.jpg
And we were trying to see it in a day. Ridiculous.
My inner traveler had poked me two days ago and said: "There is no way you can get through the Vatican alone. Seek help." My inner traveler is almost always right (aside from the let's-go-to-China-and-we-can-skip-Christmas thing, the inner traveler is always dead on! We loved China, but Christmas was bigger than the Beatles there.)
I poked around TripAdvisor and found a tour recommendation that sounded just quirky and personal enough - Andrea of 7HillsTours. He claimed never to take more than ten people and he said the tour would last a minimum of three hours but would go longer if "questions needed to be answered or things needed to be seen." As a person who views learning about culture as a NEED, I was all ready to sign-up.
But before we could head out to find the mythical Andrea, how does one dress to see Il Papa's house? Ted and Elle took it seriously, I must say, and looked dashing. Ted long wool coat, artfully knotted scarf, skinny pants and a casual sweater. Elle, saucy cap, fitted black jacket, petticoat, knee high black boots and a filmy sea-colored dress. Joe and I looked like us covered in rain gear. We blended pretty well. Took the metro and were off.
Andrea was 6'3", bald, funny, and an art history major who worked for a tour company for ten years. Hated the schedule and started his own gig. He doesn't take money before hand, waved off a tip till Joe insisted and artfully threaded us through dozens of rooms and thousands of people. What I most appreciated was the attention to history. He made you see that the Vatican was already a museum when Rafael and Michelangelo were painting. What that means is that that impressive ancient sculpture was old and impressive to them, and infused in their work.
http://cfs3.tistory.com/upload_control/download.blog?fhandle=YmxvZzEwMDAyMEBmczMudGlzdG9yeS5jb206L2F0dGFjaC81LzU4MS5qcGc=
http://jerryandmartha.com/yourdailyart/images/michelangelo2.jpg
Things I loved. The map room. Vast wall-by-wall of detailed maps done of each region of Italy. The Borgia apartments. The damaged frescoes where the images of Alexander (the pope), Cesare (his son and immortalized character of Machiavelli) and Lucrezia (his daughter and famed man poisoner) had been scratched out after the Borgia pope's death. Andrea referred to him as a bad "Papa." Everyone knew some popes had "a niece or nephew, but twelve and he called them his children. Too much. He was a bad man." Yep.
http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/6/6c/Pope_Alexander_Vi.jpg
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Cesareborgia.jpg
http://i.cdn.turner.com/trutv/trutv.com/graphics/photos/serial_killers/history/borgias/3b.jpg
Then we came to the rooms of Pope Julius II, a powerhouse in his own right, who commissioned, bullied, supported some of the most incredible artists in all human history - Leonardo, Michelangelo, Rafael. The Rafael room is stunning. I had dreamed of seeing The School of Athens for years. Dreamt of seeing how Rafael immortalized all the great artists and thinkers of his time portraying the great artists and thinkers of Ancient Greece. Amazing, vivid.
http://www.barnard.columbia.edu/polisci/faculty/images/rafael_sch_athens.jpg
Onward. I would love to tell you I had some special insight, but in truth, the Sistine Chapel, with its breathtaking, overwhelming ceiling and walls is exactly as it is billed - a masterpiece. Even surrounded by hundreds of dripping wet tourists from around the world, you can feel the power of the painting and the power of the artist. Michelangelo di Lodovic Buonarroti Simoni dominates the room. Michelangelo had no wife or lover; he was having a mad, passionate affair with art. He simply had no time or patience for anything else.
I stared at the ceiling, wondering at the design and scale. The images seem to literally jump down at you. That first touch of life. You feel it.
http://culturalcocktailhour.files.wordpress.com/2008/11/the-creation-of-adam-detail-of-gods-and-adams-hands-from-the-sistine-ceiling-giclee-print-c129738581.jpeg
http://static.howstuffworks.com/gif/sistine-chapel-michelangelo-paintings-5.jpg
He was forty when he finished the ceiling. He was cranky, covered in paint, wandering the halls for years. He probably smelled. He had been commissioned by Julius II (and commission really is code for "Because I said so" in pope speak.) to create an artwork NOT in the medium of his expertise. Yes, the Sistine Chapel ceiling was made by a man who would have freely admitted he was a better sculpture than painter.
That's how small one feels staring up at that ceiling. As I said, the man dominates the room. Even dead. Then you turn to the wall (oh, there are three others, but one hardly notices.) The Last Judgement. He painted this when he was sixty-five. SIXTY-FIVE. The maturity, the power. All those Roman and Greek sculptures wrestle out at you through this fresco - muscle, power, movement.
We continued forward to the Basilica. So many images, but I'll focus on two. The Pieta. One of Michelangelo's early sculptures in luminous Carerra marble. The tender young mother. The murdered young son. I teared-up wondering how a twenty-four year old man could capture such emotion. He knew how she felt. He knew.
http://static.artbible.info/large/michelangelo_pieta.jpg
My second image. The basilica. Endless, monumental.
http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/3/3e/Giovanni_Paolo_Panini_-_Interior_of_St._Peter%27s%2C_Rome.jpg
Oh, and Michelangelo designed much of the basilica. No, he wasn't an architect. At least he had trained as a painter. This is Michelangelo in his seventies. He was taking over as "Capomaestro" or supervisor of the St. Peter's building project. Bernini, Rafael and a host of other artists had had the job earlier. And died trying. Literally. The project had started in 1505. Michelangelo took over in 1547. The dome never worked until Michelangelo got involved. The dome, that was sheer force of will. Like everyone before him, his designs didn't work at first. He talked to everyone. Laid on his back at the Pantheon to study how it had been done 14 centuries earlier. He died before it was finished. He had the respect of artists and popes and they finally finished the job in 1590.
http://bayoucatholics.com/images/domeStPeter.jpg
The Pantheon.
http://images.travelpod.com/users/antonym/1.1212590640.pantheon-dome.jpg
I am an American. I was raised to believe all people are created equal. I came to Rome. I saw the works of Rafael, Leonardo, Michelangelo. It is simply not so.
http://www.biada.org/web/materies/artsdidactica/art/arquit/barroc/sperevatica.jpg
And we were trying to see it in a day. Ridiculous.
My inner traveler had poked me two days ago and said: "There is no way you can get through the Vatican alone. Seek help." My inner traveler is almost always right (aside from the let's-go-to-China-and-we-can-skip-Christmas thing, the inner traveler is always dead on! We loved China, but Christmas was bigger than the Beatles there.)
I poked around TripAdvisor and found a tour recommendation that sounded just quirky and personal enough - Andrea of 7HillsTours. He claimed never to take more than ten people and he said the tour would last a minimum of three hours but would go longer if "questions needed to be answered or things needed to be seen." As a person who views learning about culture as a NEED, I was all ready to sign-up.
But before we could head out to find the mythical Andrea, how does one dress to see Il Papa's house? Ted and Elle took it seriously, I must say, and looked dashing. Ted long wool coat, artfully knotted scarf, skinny pants and a casual sweater. Elle, saucy cap, fitted black jacket, petticoat, knee high black boots and a filmy sea-colored dress. Joe and I looked like us covered in rain gear. We blended pretty well. Took the metro and were off.
Andrea was 6'3", bald, funny, and an art history major who worked for a tour company for ten years. Hated the schedule and started his own gig. He doesn't take money before hand, waved off a tip till Joe insisted and artfully threaded us through dozens of rooms and thousands of people. What I most appreciated was the attention to history. He made you see that the Vatican was already a museum when Rafael and Michelangelo were painting. What that means is that that impressive ancient sculpture was old and impressive to them, and infused in their work.
http://cfs3.tistory.com/upload_control/download.blog?fhandle=YmxvZzEwMDAyMEBmczMudGlzdG9yeS5jb206L2F0dGFjaC81LzU4MS5qcGc=
http://jerryandmartha.com/yourdailyart/images/michelangelo2.jpg
Things I loved. The map room. Vast wall-by-wall of detailed maps done of each region of Italy. The Borgia apartments. The damaged frescoes where the images of Alexander (the pope), Cesare (his son and immortalized character of Machiavelli) and Lucrezia (his daughter and famed man poisoner) had been scratched out after the Borgia pope's death. Andrea referred to him as a bad "Papa." Everyone knew some popes had "a niece or nephew, but twelve and he called them his children. Too much. He was a bad man." Yep.
http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/6/6c/Pope_Alexander_Vi.jpg
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Cesareborgia.jpg
http://i.cdn.turner.com/trutv/trutv.com/graphics/photos/serial_killers/history/borgias/3b.jpg
Then we came to the rooms of Pope Julius II, a powerhouse in his own right, who commissioned, bullied, supported some of the most incredible artists in all human history - Leonardo, Michelangelo, Rafael. The Rafael room is stunning. I had dreamed of seeing The School of Athens for years. Dreamt of seeing how Rafael immortalized all the great artists and thinkers of his time portraying the great artists and thinkers of Ancient Greece. Amazing, vivid.
http://www.barnard.columbia.edu/polisci/faculty/images/rafael_sch_athens.jpg
Onward. I would love to tell you I had some special insight, but in truth, the Sistine Chapel, with its breathtaking, overwhelming ceiling and walls is exactly as it is billed - a masterpiece. Even surrounded by hundreds of dripping wet tourists from around the world, you can feel the power of the painting and the power of the artist. Michelangelo di Lodovic Buonarroti Simoni dominates the room. Michelangelo had no wife or lover; he was having a mad, passionate affair with art. He simply had no time or patience for anything else.
I stared at the ceiling, wondering at the design and scale. The images seem to literally jump down at you. That first touch of life. You feel it.
http://culturalcocktailhour.files.wordpress.com/2008/11/the-creation-of-adam-detail-of-gods-and-adams-hands-from-the-sistine-ceiling-giclee-print-c129738581.jpeg
http://static.howstuffworks.com/gif/sistine-chapel-michelangelo-paintings-5.jpg
He was forty when he finished the ceiling. He was cranky, covered in paint, wandering the halls for years. He probably smelled. He had been commissioned by Julius II (and commission really is code for "Because I said so" in pope speak.) to create an artwork NOT in the medium of his expertise. Yes, the Sistine Chapel ceiling was made by a man who would have freely admitted he was a better sculpture than painter.
That's how small one feels staring up at that ceiling. As I said, the man dominates the room. Even dead. Then you turn to the wall (oh, there are three others, but one hardly notices.) The Last Judgement. He painted this when he was sixty-five. SIXTY-FIVE. The maturity, the power. All those Roman and Greek sculptures wrestle out at you through this fresco - muscle, power, movement.
We continued forward to the Basilica. So many images, but I'll focus on two. The Pieta. One of Michelangelo's early sculptures in luminous Carerra marble. The tender young mother. The murdered young son. I teared-up wondering how a twenty-four year old man could capture such emotion. He knew how she felt. He knew.
http://static.artbible.info/large/michelangelo_pieta.jpg
My second image. The basilica. Endless, monumental.
http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/3/3e/Giovanni_Paolo_Panini_-_Interior_of_St._Peter%27s%2C_Rome.jpg
Oh, and Michelangelo designed much of the basilica. No, he wasn't an architect. At least he had trained as a painter. This is Michelangelo in his seventies. He was taking over as "Capomaestro" or supervisor of the St. Peter's building project. Bernini, Rafael and a host of other artists had had the job earlier. And died trying. Literally. The project had started in 1505. Michelangelo took over in 1547. The dome never worked until Michelangelo got involved. The dome, that was sheer force of will. Like everyone before him, his designs didn't work at first. He talked to everyone. Laid on his back at the Pantheon to study how it had been done 14 centuries earlier. He died before it was finished. He had the respect of artists and popes and they finally finished the job in 1590.
http://bayoucatholics.com/images/domeStPeter.jpg
The Pantheon.
http://images.travelpod.com/users/antonym/1.1212590640.pantheon-dome.jpg
I am an American. I was raised to believe all people are created equal. I came to Rome. I saw the works of Rafael, Leonardo, Michelangelo. It is simply not so.
Monday, December 21, 2009
Train travel and the perfect gnocchi!
We left Venice today, in the smoke grey dawn fog, sailing on the #1 vaporetto or the slow boat up the Grand Canal. We were having a once-in-a-life-time experience while the people next to us were off to school and work. Strange.
At Santa Luccia Station we tried to board a train to the main station, Mestre. Track 18, we were told. We arrived in subzero winds. Italian shrug. Broken. Inside again; another set of instructions, Out again onto the windswept tracks. After an hour of back and forth, we were on our way to Roma! The landscape over the first two hours was beautiful - blindingly white and untouched. After Florence, the snow began to give way to the rolling green of Italy.
Rome Termini Station. After scaring Ted and Elle into hyper-vigilance re: theft ("Hide everything!" "If someone 'bumps' into you = watch out!" "Hide that iPod!"), we got a taxi to our lovely apartment off Via Flamino, a lovely sixth floor flat two blocks from Piazza de Popolo.
http://images.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://images.travelpod.com/users/hels_belles/europe-summer07.1186175820.cimg2750.jpg&imgrefurl=http://www.travelpod.com/travel-photo/hels_belles/europe-summer07/1186175820/cimg2750.jpg/tpod.html&usg=__ffdjN-lQtyaUOvfYWFSmQK-Ydz4=&h=413&w=550&sz=38&hl=en&start=1&um=1&tbnid=ftMyc-3EhjkmXM:&tbnh=100&tbnw=133&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dde%2Bpopolo%2BRome%26hl%3Den%26client%3Dsafari%26rls%3Den-us%26um%3D1
http://www.italyperfect.com/images/stories/jomres/130_property_130.jpg
Our host, the charming Mr. Rene Batard, showed us about explaining the intimate and obscure details of Roman heating and electrical rules. Three different systems. All overlapping. Rene explained: "In Italy, we always have Plan A, Plan B and Plan C."
I knew I felt at home here.....
/Users/TED/Desktop/images-2.jpeg
We went to local shop to get essentials, which in our family means coffee, garlic, salami, cheese, olives, pasta, and cookies. When we returned it was 5:30 and we were starving. But we knew no Italian restaurant worth eating at would be open for hours, and we were famished from a day of 1/2 a packaged sandwich each. What to do? We decided on Hitchcock's THE MAN WHO KNEW TOO MUCH and snacks (see how those emergency supplies came in handy?) and watched the movie while it rained, rained, rained in Roma.
Able to stand it no more, by 7:15 we ventured out. Joe commented were were equivalent of the old folks in Florida going for the "Early Bird Special." Too true. We stumbled into Taberna Ripetta while the charming owner was still setting up. She sat us down and handed us a handwritten menu, then proceeded in an enticing manner to describe what she could really make us. We were all beside ourselves. Antipasti - grilled eggplant and peppers, thinly sliced spiced potato, stuffed peppers, stuffed zucchini, sauteed mushrooms, smoked fish, warmed greens. hmmmmmm. Primeri - ravioli stuffed with ricotta, herbs, spinach and the lightest gnocchi in a saffron lemon sauce. Secondi - beef in broth over greens, pasta with a mix of sea creatures. Wine - "fresh, red." Dessert - one lush tirimisu four ways.
I could eat it all again tomorrow...By the way, Joe was right. Half an hour after we began eating, then next entering customers were a young couple taking grandma out for an early dinner.
NOTE: I am having some technical difficulties with loading pictures and the type face color. Sorry!
At Santa Luccia Station we tried to board a train to the main station, Mestre. Track 18, we were told. We arrived in subzero winds. Italian shrug. Broken. Inside again; another set of instructions, Out again onto the windswept tracks. After an hour of back and forth, we were on our way to Roma! The landscape over the first two hours was beautiful - blindingly white and untouched. After Florence, the snow began to give way to the rolling green of Italy.
Rome Termini Station. After scaring Ted and Elle into hyper-vigilance re: theft ("Hide everything!" "If someone 'bumps' into you = watch out!" "Hide that iPod!"), we got a taxi to our lovely apartment off Via Flamino, a lovely sixth floor flat two blocks from Piazza de Popolo.
http://images.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://images.travelpod.com/users/hels_belles/europe-summer07.1186175820.cimg2750.jpg&imgrefurl=http://www.travelpod.com/travel-photo/hels_belles/europe-summer07/1186175820/cimg2750.jpg/tpod.html&usg=__ffdjN-lQtyaUOvfYWFSmQK-Ydz4=&h=413&w=550&sz=38&hl=en&start=1&um=1&tbnid=ftMyc-3EhjkmXM:&tbnh=100&tbnw=133&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dde%2Bpopolo%2BRome%26hl%3Den%26client%3Dsafari%26rls%3Den-us%26um%3D1
http://www.italyperfect.com/images/stories/jomres/130_property_130.jpg
Our host, the charming Mr. Rene Batard, showed us about explaining the intimate and obscure details of Roman heating and electrical rules. Three different systems. All overlapping. Rene explained: "In Italy, we always have Plan A, Plan B and Plan C."
I knew I felt at home here.....
/Users/TED/Desktop/images-2.jpeg
We went to local shop to get essentials, which in our family means coffee, garlic, salami, cheese, olives, pasta, and cookies. When we returned it was 5:30 and we were starving. But we knew no Italian restaurant worth eating at would be open for hours, and we were famished from a day of 1/2 a packaged sandwich each. What to do? We decided on Hitchcock's THE MAN WHO KNEW TOO MUCH and snacks (see how those emergency supplies came in handy?) and watched the movie while it rained, rained, rained in Roma.
Able to stand it no more, by 7:15 we ventured out. Joe commented were were equivalent of the old folks in Florida going for the "Early Bird Special." Too true. We stumbled into Taberna Ripetta while the charming owner was still setting up. She sat us down and handed us a handwritten menu, then proceeded in an enticing manner to describe what she could really make us. We were all beside ourselves. Antipasti - grilled eggplant and peppers, thinly sliced spiced potato, stuffed peppers, stuffed zucchini, sauteed mushrooms, smoked fish, warmed greens. hmmmmmm. Primeri - ravioli stuffed with ricotta, herbs, spinach and the lightest gnocchi in a saffron lemon sauce. Secondi - beef in broth over greens, pasta with a mix of sea creatures. Wine - "fresh, red." Dessert - one lush tirimisu four ways.
I could eat it all again tomorrow...By the way, Joe was right. Half an hour after we began eating, then next entering customers were a young couple taking grandma out for an early dinner.
NOTE: I am having some technical difficulties with loading pictures and the type face color. Sorry!
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Sunshine and snow this lovely Sunday morning. We headed out confident and covered up. A dozen Santas sailed by on two gondolas.
After disembarking at Salute Station we walked to the tip of the Dorsoduro sestieri to take in the view. There we meet an odd young fellow -
We continued on our way along the canal until we arrived at destination number one for the day - the Peggy Guggenheim Museum. Now Peggy, aside from her collection, was quite an interesting gal. Her dad, Benjamin, had died on the Titanic when she was a young girl and Peggy grew-up as a "poor" Guggenheim. She worked and hung out with artists throughout the 1920s in both New York and Paris and eventually founded her own art gallery in London 1938 called the gallery Guggenheim Jeune. Man Ray photographed her; she was the collector and the collected. She had multi artist/husbands and affairs with others. Her first exhibit was dedicated to Cocteau; the next to Kandinsky.
Eventually she bought (and we entered) the Palazzo de Venier de Leoni on the Grand Canal. Lovely gardens; incredible art. Walking through this treasure trove, sitting on Peggy's sofas and staring, dumbfounded at a regular who's who of modern art felt delicious. Best in show? Hard to say. Perhaps the bird sculpture
by Brancusi. The light hit it just so, and the story of how he and Peggy fought bitterly over the price just added to the piquancy.
(this picture does NOT do it justice...)
We had lunch at the museum, bought a pair of those groovy glasses (see above) then headed out, planning to cruise the Grand Canal. Alas, the temperature had sunk and Elle's shoes had soaked through so we decided to return home for more clothes and to regroup. Ted, sick from being on a boat, begged off, but Joe, Elle and I, padded and covered, took the vaporetto out into the mysterious fog in search of Murano and the history Venetian glass.
The museum was so-so, nevertheless it gave us the basic ideal of how glass was made and showed samples from the 1st century A.D. I can barely keep 8 unbroken water glasses in the house; image finding entire vases still intact 2000 years later? Later we did a bit of a shopping, including buying six Venetian crystal and gold goblets (yes, the price was okay; Ted will return to UofC.)
Following "the hunt", we sipped grappa and waited for the vaporetto back (it was early...who'd have believed it??) Back home we savored the warmth, but had forgotten to shop for dinner and by 7:00 P.M. nothing was open. I made a humble of meal of what was left over and we began to pack for Rome.
Tomorrow: The Italian train system. Keep posted! Buona Notte.
Saturday, December 19, 2009
Venice...blizzarding
It started as a well laid plan. This, like every trip I have ever dragged my family on, begins as an experiment conducted at 3:00 A.M. when sleep eludes me. This plan began as a dream of submerging our nuclear family, perhaps for the last time, into a fabulous cultural soup. A soup that held some DNA for three out of four of us.
And thus the plans of July have rendered us in December in Venice...blizzarding.
We arrived two days ago to Venice crisp, scent-less, brisk, and lacking in many but the hearty few. Tourists from China (large groups accompanied by a some very slender bold voiced woman/guide), Australia (couples, bundled, big-voiced, smiling), a few French (quiet, elegant), Italians and a few sturdy looking British (women traveling in bridge table sized sets.)
You enter Venice one of several ways from the airport - bus, water bus, or water taxi. We selected option #2. More fun than the bus; less costly than a private taxi. Now you catch this water bus (a twenty passenger boat) at a pier ten minutes walk from the airport. Genius! For 13 euros you wend your way from Murano (of glass fame) to the Lido to San Marco Piazza. The final step - a ten minute over two bridges walk from our apartment at 1607 Castello.
But of course, our apartment is not ON Calle Castello, or Riva Castello, or Piazza Castello. Castello is the neighborhood or sestieri. The actual address is 1607 Calle Pedrocchio. Why is the numbering this way. Italian shrug. 15 centuries.
Joe, Ted and Elle had arrived the evening before, acquired a few basic groceries, wandered about, etc. I arrived around lunch time, climbed the 58 steps up, up, up to the fourth floor, dropped my gear and fighting jetlag all the way, requested we head out. 58 steps down, and 5 bridges later along the Grand Canal we stood in Piazza San Marco.
San Marco, splendid, graceful, bathed in milk white, sand, palest pinks and eggshell blue.
I had seen it 30 years ago when I graduated high school and travelled to Europe with my grandparents, mother and 12 year old cousin, Lynn. Piazza San Marco. I remembered my first midnight cappuchino at Florian's with my mother and a wonderful conversation about life. Could it still be so lovely?
Yes, oh yes.
Napoleon is quoted as referring to Piazza San Marco* as "The drawing room of Europe." It has the elegance of such a salon - filled with soaring structures and accented by large, lovely cafes. Moreover, Piazza San Marco is unmarred by the great destroyers of sight, sound, air. There are no cars; there is no traffic. Just the lapping water, clinking glasses, click of footsteps.
The square is actually more of a backwards "L" shape. We entered at the bottom. Elle drifted off and shot film here and there while Joe, Ted and I wandered and enjoyed from various vantage points, walking first along the Grand Canal (the bottom of the "L" then to the front of the Doge Palace (the residence and seat of Venetian government for 11 centuries.)
Then up the "L" with of a general goal of reaching the Rialto Bridge and seeing the back streets of central Venice. As we walked, Ted, Elle and I recalled reading The Merchant of Venice with our summer camp group. Trying to follow the sign attached to the sides of buildings: "per Rialto", we were eager to discover "now, what news on the Rialto?" (Merchant of Venice, Act III)
Actually, not much. It took us quite a while to find it, and when we did it was fairly closed up for siesta. Nevertheless, the meander had been a pleasure and we began to note the challenge of mapping this small city and the intrigue of poking about. After a quick bite, tiredness, cold and sunset convinced us we should head home.
Easier said than done. Below is a map. But let's say you think of Venice as a fish swimming with a package below its belly. We were near the fins. We are staying at the tail. Signs point ever which way, no just not our way. We try maps. Hopeless. We try asking. People are kind. Our Spanish helps, but we stayed lost. Finally we resorted to trying to figure out which part of the sky was less dark (west) and thus the Grand Canal. An hour or so later we made it. It was fun. Okay, perhaps people were a wee bit too cold. Foreshadowing.
When I arose this morning, I peeled back the covers. Snow. Not flurries, snow. After reading an e-mail from the owner of the apartment warning us to be careful, bundle up, and watch slippery marble (which is EVERYWHERE) we headed out in most of the clothes we had packed. San Marco was covered in elevated walkways and the Piazza was one foot under water! The footgear was a site - boots, garbage bags over shoes and our particular solution - 7 euro shoe covers that include line indicating the high water mark for Piazza San Marco. I think this was meant to comfort us....
We tried to collect our vaporetto pass from the Venice Connected office. No one there. Italian shrug. We tried to see the basilica. Closed due to water level. In 15 minutes, in 15 hours, open. Italian shrug. Unfazed, we went for coffee at Cafe Florian. Let's thaw and revise our plans. Warmed and delighted by coffee and being surrounded by people from several countries, we decided to plunge on.
Now, the basilica was open. We entered. Stop - mass is being said. Okay, the museum. We finally entered, climbed, climbed, climbed to the top witness the breathtaking vision of literally millions of tiny gold, azure, garnet, emerald tiles laid in the most incredible mosaic - the ceiling of the basilica. Other notables: the four bronze horses stolen from Constantinople.
Our next stop: The Doge Palace, which is a combination residence of the Doge or elected ruler of Venice, a pretty amazing governing structure that lasted over a millennium, and the actual meeting place of the government. Highlights: numerous, Tintorettos, Titians as well as stunning architecture. We thought of our friends Bill and Susan as we took in The Battle of Lepanto by Paolo Veronese.
Things brightened further. Two hours later the Venice Connected office opened, and we even found a restaurant I had research, Le Bistrot de Venise. I had wanted traditional Venetian cuisine. Oh my. 14th century pumpkin ravioli, 14th century lamb with pumpkin chutney and saffron bread, chestnut mousse, etc. hours later we rolled out, followed the signs and actually found the one of only four bridges that cross the Grand Canal and the Accademia d'art. Four two hours we further immersed ourselves in Italian art and finished by seeing Da Vinci's Vitruvian Man.
Our last leg of the day - a lovely evening vaporetto ride home, things for supper and a family chat. Buona Notte.
NOTE: Piazza is a special designation in Italy. Merriam-Webster simply says it is a "square" but the designation seems to mean so much more. San Marco is the only piazza in all of Venice!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
