Abandoned - 9 June 2012

Just Around the Corner

I am finally learning my way around this quarter, but every once in a while something jumps out at you - like this fountain.  Recognize it?  A copy of this fountain sits in Huntington Park right across from Grace Cathedral.  It knocked my socks off.  There are some minor differences, but it is mostly all there. I slept in late.  I think that I work hard when I travel, and forget the toll that it takes.

Once I get on my way past the fountain is see an open church door - a church dedicated to the Theotokos.  It is quite lovely, and has a program of decoration that is developed around all of the aspects of the life and status of the Virgin.  Here is a door spandrel filled with a Tree of Life, planted by the living water (placed over the baptistery).  i sat for a bit to take it all in.  Sometimes there's too much and your mind misses things.  Better to wait a bit.  So I did.

On my way to the Forum I have a bit of any early lunch at a Pizzeria that Barton and I visited some 23 years ago now.  The outdoor eating area was once covered with netting, but vines have now covered that over, making the place quite pleasant.

The crowds at the Forum are minimal, and I am grateful.  I'm going to be selective in my viewing.  I go to the curia and am delighted to find that changes have been made.  No longer a big, empty room, the floor has been restored, and there is a temporary exhibition of Roman glass.  There are explanations as to the history of the building/room, and its construction and reconstruction over time.  Once used as a church (what wasn't) you can still see traces.  What excited me, however, is the recovery of the platform on which the praeses sat, along with the base of the statue of Victory that had been placed there.  There is also a huge porphyry statue, thought to be Trajan, that was found behind the curia.  They will be uncovering stuff here for centuries.  The road that divides the forum traiano has been blocked off, and will, I suspect, be carefully removed to uncover the history that lies beneath.

I walk over to the house of the Vestal Virgins.  It is quiet in the atrium, lined with the cellar of the women who lived there, and lined also, on one side with the remains of statues of the virgins who kept the flame alive in the past.

Only two of the statues had faces, and I wanted to look at them; to see who it was that lived here, who it was that tended these gardens and devoted their lives to the community hearth.  In the Vth Century the Emperor Theodosius ordered that the whole complex be abandoned - a centuries old community sent on their way.  I imagined the scene.

On the northern end of the atrium they have uncovered, under two other buildings what they think was the original building dedicated to these women and the hearth.  Layers upon layers reveal the human experience here, and the need for a hearth.

As I make my way up to the Palatine, I return to the Neronian cryptoportus, a long underground tunnel that connected parts of the ancient palace that stood there.  What is fascinating are the stucco decorations that still exist there.  I wonder if there is a finger-print.

Livia's house in closed.  Augustus' house is closed - pericolo!  The domus grifoni which I visited in 2009 is closed.  I see the door where it is - nondescript and unmarked.  I wonder how many other doors there are where treasures can be seen.

The Flavian Palace is overwhelming, and much of it is closed as well, so I walk down the path that will eventually get me to the exit.  Along the way, however I see some really beautiful and interesting things.

On the hill that descends down tower the circa massimo there is a large stand of olive trees.  As you move along you can glimpse the Colosseum off in the distance, but to all intents and purposed, deep in the midst of Rome, you are in the Latin countryside.  Beautiful.

There is a rock yard that once was a magnificent temple built by the Emperor Elagabalus.  Nothing is left of it other than the foundations.  As I walk toward the east I come upon a vista that towers over the Arch of Constantine, the site of the Colossus that stood to its east and gave the Colosseum its name, the Colosseum itself, and the hills with the domus aura beyond.

There is a covered area, and below it are ruins recently uncovered.  Suetonius writes about a "revolving" dining room that the Emperor Nero had built.  Most thought that it was an exaggeration.  Here, however, seems to be the foundations for a circular room, below which was machinery and structures that may have supported such a room.  Fascinating.

I am thirsty beyond belief, but I trudge on wanting to see, finally, the back-to-back temples dedicated to Roma and Venus. Originally a blank wall separated to the two cellar that held the cult figures of the two goddesses.  Later, two apses were built back to back, as seen in the picture to the left.  Only a small fragment remains of the Roma figure, and a great deal of her temple was encroached upon by a church.

Thirst over takes me, and I go to one of those tourist places by the metro.  It's a coke and a hot dog.  Sugar, salt, fat, and water - oh, and some carbonation as well - it's all that I needed at that point.  Even though I have been selective, I've spent a great deal of time in the forum, and I begin to wend my way back to the hotel.  I need more water and have a granita limone as well.  I sit and savor both.

I spend a little time at the Trajan complex.  By the Trajan Column, you can see the puzzle that the archaeologists have to deal with here (and everywhere, really).  There are buildings upon buildings.  You can see the foundation stones that sit below the foundations of the buildings that surrounded the column.  What a wonder it is for those who uncover and decipher this stuff.

I'm exhausted.  No supper, just writing and bed.

Return Visits II - 8 June 2012

Speculum mundi

After my siesta, I get up and get ready for an evening visit to the Musei vaticani.  On Friday evenings, they open it up from 7 to 11.  It's still crowded, but not as much.  Last time I went with my daughter, Anna, we got our tickets and got inside and Anna indicated that she wanted to sit down and talk first.  So we did.  "Dad," she said slowly and deliberately, "I don't do museums with anybody!"  "Great," I replied, "I'll see you back here at 4:30." And that's the way it was.  Even if Arthur had been here, we would have made the same arrangement.

I cross the Tiber at Ponte Sisto, and walk over to Trastevere, but continue my trip on the bank of the Tiber.  Somewhere along here, Queen Christina of Sweden lived after she abdicated her throne, and renounced her Lutheran ways.  I wonder what she would think now?  I am going this way because on Monday, I have to navigate over to the Residence where our meetings are being held.  This walk, however, still does not give me the picture.  There are these hills, you see, just south of the Vatican (itself a hill) and that complicates things.

I walk across the great square by Bernini, all cleaned up on the south side and being cleaned on the north.  It is marred a bit by huge television screens.  It is heartening to realize that they realize that the space is for the Word.  Still...  Once I've wended my way to the entrance to the museums, I stand in line, and unfurl my on-line receipt.  The woman next to me kindly informs me that because I got tickets on-line, I have priority entrance, so I move to a much shorter line.

Truly these museums are a mirror of the world, from the works from New Guinea, that line the unique spiral that takes you to the museums from the lower entrance, to the ancient works that I do take some time with.  Normally, I would have spent a great deal of time with the Egyptian collection, but I've seen this before, and just saw the materials in Berlin in the Fall, so I fly over to the Roman things.  The power of this torso is just amazing to me even, or perhaps because of its present state.  It dominates the room.  Apollo Belvedere is being worked on, and was not available for viewing.  Schade.

 My memory of these museums is dominated by the ceilings.  There is the magnificence of the Rafael ceilings, but this time I am taken especially by the ceiling of the long hallway that forms the Gallery of the Maps.  It is golden in the evening light, and many are not looking at the maps at all, but are photographing or just staring at its beauty.

The maps themselves are interesting, especially a map that was done up to show all the Etruscan sites, known at the time, along with their place names.  It was fascinating.  It's also interesting to see what the cartography of the time was like, especially with sites known to me - the cities of Italy, and how they were depicted then.

You'll notice in the photograph that the windows are open.  This is not seen much in other museums, but here one could be gazing at the golden heavens, or looking at the blue-green of the maps, or gaze outside to the Vatican Gardens, cypress with its special green and the deepening blue of the skies.

(To myself the other day: "I can't believe I'm watching this horrible Borgia series on television!") But I did, and so I take special notice of the Borgia apartments.  Not a sumptuous as I would have thought, but the ceilings are magnificent.  Unlike the Gallery of the Maps ceiling where you wonder, "How in the world did they do that?!", in the Borgia apartments you see exactly how they did that.  The placement of the wood, the carving, the cross pieces that actually bear a load - it's all very human.  I suspect Alexander VI would not have been happy with that observation.

Yes, I saw all of the Rafael, and took photos as well.  What I really want to comment on is the contemporary collection which everyone blows off, quickly passing by to hurry their way to the Sistine Chapel.  Another photographer and I agreed that they didn't know what they were missing.  Perhaps they don't know these artists.  I hope you will permit me a few photographs of works that stood out for me.  I didn't remember this collection as being as extensive as it is.  Here you can see Otto Dix, Emile Nolde, Botero, Sutherland, Dali, Bacon, Braque, Epstein, Barlach, Le Corbusier, Münch, Stein, Burchfield, Orozco, and many others.  I expected some Manzu, since he did the doors to the basilica, but he was not in the exhibited collection.

Here is the processional cross, or another version of it the Henri Matisse did for the Chapel at Vence, France.  There are full cartoons of two of the windows for the chapel, and a wonderful Madonna that is shown below:

Here is the stoning of St. Stephen by Orozco.  What fascinated me by these works was whether these gifts were a reflection of personal faith or not.  Were they political, might the Orozco have a sub theme here?  Or were they somehow a reflection of their own journey of faith and life.  Given that task, I find that these works are a delightful read, and heartening in their insights.  Like religious music, there are so many levels here.

I am a real fan of Francis Bacon and his compatriot Lucien Freud.  I was delighted to find a study by Bacon for his rather irreverent series on Innocent X and the portrait by Velasquez.  Here it is before it is shredded, stretched, and scratched in the further paintings in this series.  It is almost calm, as if waiting but not realizing the violence that was to follow.  Did Bacon give this to the Papacy, or did the collection acquire it.  I wonder.  If Bacon gave it, I wonder why?  Was it a poke in the eye, or a homage?

From this collection I went upstairs to the Sistine Chapel, crowded, noisy (shushed from moment to moment), one really wants to lie down of the floor to take it all in.  But you can't.  I realized this conundrum about life once at Salisbury Cathedral.  A friend and I wanted to know the best place to sit so that we might be able to take in all the beauty of the processional liturgy.  It was plain to us.  We simply couldn't, and having made that realization, enjoyed and savored what we could.  So it was here.  I had forgotten, or like most people probably never saw the series of paintings below the Michelangelo that were done by Botticelli.  They are interesting, but really have a different plan about them.  They are static in comparison with the sweep of the Michelangelo.  In Florence, the last time, at the Uffizi, I realized that I really don't like the "fuzziness" of Botticelli.  I don't hate his work, it's just that he doesn't have that much to say to me anymore.

I love ivories, and especially Byzantine ones.  They were so influential in the Carolingian and Merovingian eras - making statements, although subtle, about the pretensions of these families.  Thus reflected back to us are an image of Rome long in decline but still influencing the developing nation states of Europe.  A fascinating book to read in this regard is Chris Wickham's The Inheritance of Rome - Illuminating the Dark Ages, 400 - 1000.  It is that influence that overwhelms me every time that I come to Rome.  Their law, their religion (before Christianity), their artistic forms (both their own and those modified, or taken from the Greeks), and their virtues and their vices all flow down to us.  Now if we only understood, and explored that reality.  Meanwhile, back at the ivories, isn't this beautiful - the precision of the carving, the color, the softness of the light.  I found this collection to be very engaging, along with Medieval metal craft, and glass work.

The day has faded, and in the night light, the gardens and the palaces take on a different light.  I  sit for a time, just resting, in the Cortile della Pigna. Many others are well, some having a buffet offered the right of the "pigna".  I go back in and attempt a revisit of some galleries, but I have given this four-hour window it's best.  My feet are killing me, and all I want at this point is dinner.  I am feeling a bit like what the following photo suggests, a stretching Laocoön, minus the snakes and threatened sons.

I walk over to the Tiber and cross on the Ponte Vittorio Emmanuele, and immediately get lost on the other side.  The fun of getting lost is that you see things and know relationships that you can use later.  I find a not-so-crowded restaurant and have a delightful meal of Caprese, filleto al peppe verde, and baba con fragile.  Italian waiters are a riot.  They ranged this evening, from dismissive, to highly attentive (when I indicated that I liked the food - even the chef came out) to forgetful, especially when women were nearby, and finally almost weeping as I left.  Wonderful!

Return visits - 8 June 2012

Through a lens (but not darkly) I

They didn't bring me breakfast this morning, so I do some email, write a little bit, talk with Anna via Skype, and then get ready for the day.  Since they didn't bring me breakfast, I tramp over to Piazza Navona to spend some time with my buddy, Bellini.  The fountain of the four rivers has to be one of my favorite pieces of sculpture.  Each of the rivers, the Nile, the Ganges, la Plata, and the Danube, represent some of the continents.  My favorite is the Nile, whose face is hidden since the source of the Nile is unknown.  I take my time enjoying them and one of my favorite Baroque features, the slightly off kilter arms of Alexander VII.

It is time to have something to eat, so I go the northwest corner of the Piazza where it is relatively quiet and order a spremuta di arancia, uno cornet to, e café macchiato.  Then I sat back and watched people, and I watched the police watch people, and then watched all the "merchants" in the piazza watch the police.  Wonderful.  Time to move on.

I have an errand to perform, actually several.  The first is to start to find the gallery where I purchased some Salviati glass 22 years ago.  Probably not there, but I did get to peek into a lovely little church -  gated but one could still see in.  Now I make my way to the Pantheon.  The whole of the thing, the piazza, the obelisk, and the ancient building are just wonderful.  It is crowded beyond belief, but I enjoy the energy inside, and out.  I take some time to look at the back of the building, where some of the marble facing still adheres to the Roman brick.  Such glimpses of the past are wonderful to me.

Just in back and to the side is Santa Maria Sopra Minerva, a rare gothic church in Rome, and home of the remains of Catherine of Sienna.  She didn't appear to be in this particular morning - I did look for her.  What astounded me, is how the Romans have begun to clear certain areas of automobiles.  It used to be that the piazza in front of the church, with its elephant supporting an obelisk was nothing more than a car park.  Now it is clean.

After the church, I go over to Barbiconi, haberdasher to the pope and other clerics.  This morning they need to be a haberdasher to me.  We were supposed to bring a white stole for the conference, and I left mine behind.  So, where better to find one.  My late friend Gerry Coletti brought me cardinal red stockings that he had purchased for me there - so there's a bit of continuity.  It was the only such store that I could think of.  Naturally, as I made my way back to the hotel, I discovered more than four more.  These however were kitschier, with sparkling renditions of Murillo madonnas and such.  There is a bad trend among the Romans and what they choose to wear on a Sunday morning.  It's not good.

It is very hot today, and everyone is dressed down, but not Michael. The long sleeves soon prove to be oppressive, so I duck into Santo Adrea della Valle, and cool down.  It is calm and quiet, and I take some time to think and ponder.  Once that is accomplished, I'm on my way. On my way back I photograph the giant basins that form the fountains at the Farnese Palace.  They originally stood in the Baths of Caracalla, but were moved here in the Renaissance.  I thought that you'd want to know.

While looking for a restaurant, I find this little jewel of a church, all decked out for a wedding with paper roses.  It is dedicated to Santa Barbara, and is quite charming.

I do find my restaurant, right next to my hotel, Doms Ester.  I sit outside and have a first of bruschetta alla pomodoro.  Arthur will be happy with another serving of fruits and vegetables.  What follows is really good - a risotto alla creme scampi.  It is a risotto, supposedly with shrimps, but I am served a wonderful pink rice, flavored by the tomatoes and whole langoustine.  It is very good.  And it is still very hot.  I go to my room.  It is time for a siesta.

The Name of the Rose, an introduction

Palimpsest

This material was written for the Trinity Church Book Club, of which I am a member.  It is some introductory material for the current novel that the club is reading.


The Name of the Rose was Umberto Eco's first novel, and published in an English translation in the early 80's.  It led me on a journey with this eminent semiologiest, leading me to other novels such as The Mysterious Flame of Queen Loane, essays on beauty and literature, a nice little volume filled with advice to authors, and other wonderful works.  As a semiologist he fills his work with layer upon layer of meaning and connection.  The connections are both actual and virtual or imagined.  A palimpsest was a piece of parchment or vellum which had an original text erased and another written over it.  Often, with care, one could detect the text beneath.  This is a good example of his work, text above text, story within story.

Even the rose is a good example of what Eco accomplishes, petal within petal, there is interest in the detail, but the beauty is within the whole.  The book is simply a murder mystery, but layered over the usual convolutions of such a story are other "mysteries" and tangents:

1.  The whole culture and life of a 14th Century monastery and its scriptorium.  Here I am indebted to Stephen Greenblatt's wonderful new book, The Swerve, How the World became Modern.  His initial chapters on the medieval search for the ancient is quite enlightening.  In a Benedictine Monastery, one was required to read, some were required to serve as scribes, and others ploughed the fields of the community.  The requirement to read however was betrayed by the other requirement of silence - one did not discuss what one had read.  Thus, contending with dual purposes, the monks were under a great deal of pressure to both possess and dispossess the ancients; hence the conundrum that faces the monks about Aristotle's de Comedia.

2.  Within this moral dilemma there is another, and that is the dispute between the fanatic Franciscans and the Dominicans on the virtue of poverty in Christian ascetic life.  The question, "did Christ own his own clothing" was a simple way of stating the controversy, and the Franciscans thought that he didn't.  This period, just on the cusp of the precursors of the Reformation, in Paris (Jean de Gerson) and in Prague (Jan Hus) raised similar questions and concerns.  It would consume the age, until it was "resolved" with the Reformation and the Council of Trent.  In the novel, however it serves as a reflection of the many moral questions that consume monastic life.

3.  Finally, there are all the allusions that Eco makes in all of his writings, that range from the most ancient of things to the most modern of things.  Along with a feeling of exaggeration (read: Foucault's Pendulum for example) and just plain inventiveness, one can really be on a search into other literature and history when reading Eco.  In this regard, he is similar to both Saramago and Bolaño, making constant reference to tangential or related materials.

For me, reading Eco is always an education.  I hope that this brief but insufficient introduction will help guide your discussion.  I'm sorry that I will not be there.  Rome, does have its mysteries too, and it is to these that I am directing myself.

Enjoy!

Don Pippo, A Day in Milano - 7 June 2012

Connections

I have reservations on a train to Milano at 7:00 in the morning, so I get up early, take a shower, and suddenly realize it is only 4:30 in the morning, not 5:30 - so back to bed.  I walk to Statione Terminii walking past the Ara Sacra at Argentino, past a bunch of other sites that I would normally stop to take in. I get to the terminal, and board my train - quite comfortable.  I settle in at Carriage 4, Seat 56.

It is here that I get to experience something quite unique, for a people watcher.  A young Italian man is seated across from me - shaved head, one day growth of beard, dark glasses, jeans, white shirt and tie - huge watch with at least five different dials.  He is reading, no, he is using his phone.  Another man approaches, same descriptors.  There is some dispute about who sits where, but it is most gently disposed of.  There is a dance between the two strangers - a calm quiet speech between the two of them.  They invade each other's private space in a manner that would set most American straight men on edge, and would be a delight, but completely misunderstood by most American gay men.  There is touching, soulful looks, gentle conversation, smiles.  When we arrive in Milano they walk off together, part, and then go their separate ways.  Bellissimo!

The trip is fast - 3 hours - from Roma to Firenze (no stop) to Bologna, and finally to Milano.

Philipp is awaiting me in the concourse between the trains - all smiles.  It is so good to see him.  I saw him last, with my mother in München in 2004 - so it has been a while.  He is excited, his Italian is wonderful and he drives like a maniac.  I love it!  We go have a coffee at a café that is run by friends, and talk about family, how everyone is - at length.  I am interrupted by a phone call from Anna.  Her grandmother, Esther Koerber, has died.  This has been expected but I know that Anna is devastated.

Philipp has arranged for lunch at an unusual place.  He quizzes me about it as we walk to it.  "What do you think it is like?"  "Organized or unorganized?"  "Traditional or nontraditional?"  I am intrigued.  Once we arrive I understand his query.  It appears to be a delicatessen but with a few tables.  The offerings, or products are very unusual meats and cheeses.  There is no menu.  We are served specialties.

He starts us off with a plate of cured beef, cut carpacio-like with a round of cheese (ricotta and fresh mozzarella creamed together and served with salt, pepper, and olive oil.  Delicious!  Then there is an amusé bouche of lardo (fat back cured with rosemary and other herbs) with honey and olive oil.  It was delicious.

Then there was a plate of cured meats; a lightly cured ham, another form of pork, mortadella, speck, two salumi one which tasted of citrus, coppa, breseola, and a bacon-like cut.  My mother, the mother of all carnivores, would have loved this.

Then there was a cheese plate, which we were to eat in a distinctive order.  First a cow's milk cheese, very mild and soft - it prepared the way.  Next was an almost sharp cheddar-like cheese that had been kept with Barolo, a rich, red wine.  That was especially good.  The next cheese was a hard, parmesan-like cheese that had been wrapped in tobacco. and finally a cheese that had been cured with orzo.  All of them were wonderful.

Finally there were biscotti with what I thought was vin santo, but was grappa with some kind of moscatto.  What an experience.  Thank you Don Pippo!

We go to Philipp's apartment, but first have a gelato.  They fill the cone with hot chocolate (like the Spanish serve with churros) and then two scoops.  I had crema bologna, and strachiatella.  Delicious.

A quick nap for both of us, and then off to the Centro where we walk by the Duomo  and through the magnificent galleria.  In the piazza across from La Scala, I take a photo of my friend Leondardo da Vinci who presides over the pleasant park-like setting.  the last time I was here, it was a bleak paved over area full of cars and a huge television screen, which fascinated me at the time.

Philipp takes me to the area where all the fashion houses are, a great place for people watching and window gazing.  It's time to go home, but we stop first for a drink, and witness a woman who spends over (I think) €100 on lottery tickets.  She doesn't win a thing as we all (Philipp, myself, and the shop owner look on in amazement.  Then there is a interesting discussion about addiction.

It is time for me to catch my train, so we walk back to the car and Philipp drives to to Centrale, where we say our good-byes.  He will wait for a friend who is coming in from Napoli, and I will go back to Rome.

I have dinner in the Restaurant on the train, spaghetti pomodoro, pollo con palate, and a macedonia.  There's enough time to read and to sleep a bit.

I walk back to San Salvatore in Campo, and gratefully crawl into bed.  It has been a wonderful day.  Thank you so much Philipp!

Overlooked - Day Two in Roma - 6 June 2012

Wandering

A character in Tennessee William's play El Camino Real, exclaims, "I used to wonder, now I just wander."  Although I think my purposes were different than his, I just wandered today - hoping to hit sites that I hadn't seen before.  Thus, I walked south along the Tiber, passing the huge Jewish Synagogue (my hotel is just on the edge of the Jewish quarter) and then down to the Temple of Fortune, and of Heracles, right across the street from Santa Maria in Cosmedian.  Now here was a place that kept forgetting to go to on past trips, and now here it was right in front of me.

The floor work is beautiful, and the scale of the building so intimate that it shames the huge baroque churches that crowd this city.  The capitals and mosaic and stone work are similar to that at San Clemente.  All in all a beautiful experience.

I walk along the Circo Massimo intending to get to the Terme Caracalla, another site that I have ignored in the past.  First there is an encounter with a scam artist who is trolling for Euros - from his car!  The baths of Caracalla are spectacular.  Not many people are there but there are a few and the incessant cries of seagulls.  

Which reminds me; sleeping last night was a bit of a trial.  The cries of ravens, cats, and seagulls kept me up.  I was operating with the "Paris Syndrome" (Arthur will understand).  Either keep the window open and be kept up by street noise, or close the window and suffocate.

The baths were built in 212, and were abandoned when the barbarians cut off the water supplies by choking the aqueducts that fed the baths.  I got to thinking about how a civilization dies, sometimes by not facing up to the strengths of enemies, but by not recognizing the weaknesses that determine their ultimate strength.  Americans need to travel and encounter civilizations that lost their greatness by being oblivious.

From Caracalla I walk over toward the Colosseum, which is crammed with tourists.  I have lunch near by (fagiolli con ton no, and spaghetti bolognese) and then make a decision.  Do I go to San Giovanni in Laterano, San Clemente, or the Domus Aurea?  I do none of these but walk up to the Vittoriano, the wedding-cake-like monstrosity that was built to honor Vittorio Emanuelle, the last King of Italy.  To get there I pass by the Forum of Trajan, which is inaccessible do to a party yesterday.

The driver who drove me into the city suggested that I take the elevator to the top of the monument, where for €7, you can see wonderful views of the city.  So I take him up on his suggestion, and enjoy the view.  I walk next door to Ara Coeli, the church where Pope Leo X is buried.  I will encounter him again, later in the day.

It is very hot, especially with all that very white marble reflecting the sun's rays.  I have a drink, and then move on to the Capital.

It is beautiful, Michelangelo's square.  But they've done something to Marcus Aurelius.  They've finished him off with some kind of protective coating, that is soon to appear on a bronze statue near you. It's not very becoming, but the statue itself is really quite wonderful.

The Capitoline Museums beckon, so I pay my Euros and go to see an captivating exhibition called Lux et Arcana, an exhibition of materials from the Vatican archives.  There are notes from Marie Antoinette, and Mary Queen of Scots, along with the bull of excommunication for Martin Luther (remember Leo X?), a note from Luther that Galileo was a "fool", and a letter prepared on purple vellum with gold ink.  My, my.  

The head of Constantine in the courtyard is another thing that I had neglected to see - but there it was along with some other body parts.

I need to go home for a nap, so I walk by the Theatre of Marcellus, which in extraordinary Roman efficiency, is topped by apartments.  Along the way I also see the ruins just next to the Theatre, the Porto Ottovio, which is very interesting and the remains of the buildings in between the two sites.  It is time for a nap.

After some sleep I wander again, up through Campo di Fiori, Piazza Navona, and the square in front of the Pantheon, which is magnificent in the late evening.  In all of these piazzi young men are selling the latest gadgets to tourists:  LED lights that shoot up into the air and slowly float down, laser lights that shoot patterns onto the sidewalk in front of you, Asian umbrellas for the sun, and sunglasses, sunglasses, sunglasses.  I walk by the Spanish Steps and go to an old favorite restaurant, Otello alla Concordia.  (I don't think that it's my erstwhile alma mater that makes me return), but I do enjoy going there.  I started with zucchini e fiori fritti, followed by boccancino la vitella, with assorted vegetables (Arthur will be happy), and ended with a panna cotta with some kind of red fruit sauce.  Home, home, home.  I'm tired.

4-5 June 2012 - Transit

I don't understand?!

Usually I'm all excited about a trip such as this, an excitement that I have not been able to muster over the last several weeks.  Perhaps it is the stuff that I am dealing with at work, or the usual anxieties about travel.  Whatever it is, it is daunting my ability to rejoice in the travel to come.

Monday was spent doing errands, picking up prescriptions, having breakfast, packing, picking up a book that I needed, doing some last minute laundry - stuff like that, all covered with the fine dust of apprehension.

I use TaxiMagic to summon a cab (it's wonderful) and a Russian man delivers me safely to SFO.  Check in is a breeze.  Security is also quick and easy - although there is a family of four with two children.  One is sedate and nice, the other, a boy, is hell on wheels - screaming, running around in the security area.  The parents don't do much to change the situation.  Remarkable.  I mention to the TSA agent that I hope that they are not on my flight.  (They are).

I look for something to eat and end up having carnets at Andalé.  It is there that I figure out my reserve about this trip.  The last time I was at Andalé, Arthur was sitting across from me.  We were waiting for our flight to Berlin.  With that memory, I determined what my apprehension was all about.  In the past I have enjoyed traveling by myself, provided that Arthur and I did some traveling together.  This time I am missing him.  I was not looking forward to the loneliness, and missing the companionship, and Arthur's sense of adventure and curiosity - different than mine.  Interesting.

The flight leaves from gate 98 which is dominated by a huge mosaic that I greatly admire.  I don't take the time to note the title, or the artist and wish that I had.  There is a marvelous mixture of people on this flight to Frankfurt.  It's fun to people watch.  My usual misanthropy only kicks in a couple of times - when people are trying to load inappropriate pieces of baggage into the overhead.  The flight is uneventful - I guess one should be grateful for that.  The sun doesn't really set during this time of the year on the polar route, so I close my window shade in order to have a spotty sleep.

The layover in Frankfurt is quick, and as we taxi out on our way to Rome, I notice the new gates that are just being finished there.  I used to think that Frankfurt was the airport of the damned, but it's not so bad now.  The new gates line up in a long row, a box like structure punctuated with larger blocks which intersect and push out onto the tarmac.  Each is surmounted by a lighting structure and what could be a flagpole.  It reminds me of National Socialist architecture, spare and monumental.  I like totalitarian architecture, with the exception of Russian socialist architecture.  I do like Mussolini architecture and comment to my driver on the Church of Saint Paul in EUR as we pass it on our way to Rome.  He agrees and we talk about several examples.

Come to think of it, the French architecture that I know and love is also totalitarian.  I've always maintained that you need a monarchy in order to build a great city.  By the way, there are hay bales between the runways at the Rome airport.  

My hotel is small and cozy and right in the middle of everything - a block or two from the Tiber and Ponte Sisto.  Once I settle in, I have a walk over to Campo Fiori, and then to Navonna, and back again to Fiori.  I have dinner there - Carciofi alla Giudia (artichokes Jewish style - pounded together to open up their leaves, the choke is removed, and they are salted and fried in hot oil until the leaves are crispy and edible like chips, and the heart is a molten wonder).

Then I have Penne Carbonara, and I am full and satisfied.  Time for bed.