Jason in Italy

The journey ends

2006-06-02T13:56:00.000-07:00

By our last day in Rome, we had already seen just about all the major sights we wanted to hit. Our one last sightseeing stop was the church of Santa Maria della Vittoria, which houses Bernini's Ecstasy of St Theresa. (It was featured in Angels & Demons, so I had to see it.)

The rest of the day was spent relaxing and just enjoying Rome. Dave and I liked this Lamborghini we ran across in a shop window:

We also attempted to go on the "Bus 'n' Boat" tour, which is one of those tourist buses that goes around the city and lets you get on and off anywhere, except your ticket also lets you get on a boat that floats down the Tiber. Unfortunately, it was the most disorganized thing we encountered in all of Italy (which is saying a lot): in particular, the bus schedule and the boat schedule had nothing to do with each other, and were not, for instance, arranged to let you easily transfer from one to the other. We ended up narrowly missing the boat.

Then Dave and I wanted to rent motor scooters and drive around Rome, as we had seen many, many other people doing:

We found a rental place and starting getting set up. When the guy realized that we had no experience with the bikes, though, and weren't even used to reading Italian street signs, he told us that if we tried to go out in Rome on a weekday and learn how to use these things, we would kill ourselves. We decided to take his advice and walked around and shopped a bit instead.

For our farewell dinner, Dave selected a Japanese restaurant (what else?), where we learned the Italian words for things like "sushi" and "teriyaki." Here's the family at dinner:

In all, a relaxing way to end our trip.

The trip home was uneventful. (Air France has some of the best airline food I've ever had.) I'm back in Seattle now, settling back in to normal life. It was good to come home. I felt a surprising sense of relief just to be back in a familiar country, where I know how things work and where I can communicate with people with the utmost clarity.

I feel as if I've been away forever, which is perhaps how one should feel after returning from vacation. I haven't even looked at work email yet and probably won't until Sunday night. At the same time, I'm looking forward to going back to work on Monday and feel that I really can return to the job with a renewed energy.

So overall, the trip was a grand success, especially exciting to me by virtue of being my first major trip outside the US. I'm eager to travel more in the future. Maybe next year to Japan....

The Vatican, or: A whole lot of standing in line

2006-05-31T18:05:00.000-07:00

(Originally written offline; continued from previous entry)

Monday morning we went to the Vatican, a walled city-nation that features a day's worth of sightseeing all in one compact area—not unlike Disneyworld.

The first thing one sees upon entering the Vatican is the vast Piazza San Pietro, or St. Peter's Square:

All the standard comments apply (these pictures can't really convey the scale of this thing; the art is everywhere; the tourists are everywhere; etc.)

We first decided to check ou the Vatican museums and Sistine Chapel. Unfortunately, a few other people had the same idea:

That picture shows about 20% of the line; it went around the corner and continued for a few blocks. I went ahead to check out what we were in for and came back several minutes later, after having counted off about 600 paces, and estimated about 2,000 people in line ahead of us. It took over an hour to get through. Not bad, considering, but I'd hate to be there on a busy day.

Once you get jnside, there's still a long wait to get into the Sistine Chapel itself. You're basically waiting in line for another hour or two, except they keep you busy by making you walk through most of the Vatican museums first, so at least you're kept entertained while waiting. There are also little Vatican bookshops along the way. As I said, a lot like Disneyworld.

Most of the art in most of the Vatican museums was unremarkable, but there were a few pieces I liked, especially this one:

This painting (decorating a ceiling) was striking in its undisguised symbolism; the title was something like "The Triumph of Christianity over Paganism":

This sarcophagus, and its twin, stood out because of their immense size and deep purple hue:

And this sculpture was a little freaky just because of the colored eyes:

However, the highlight of the Vatican Museums was the Rafael rooms, with a number of frescoes by the master, including the famous School of Athens:

(The two robed figures in the center are Plato and Aristotle. Rafael captured in gestures the essence of their centuries-old philosophic battle: Plato points up, towards the heavens and his World of Forms; Aristotle holds his palm outstretched, facing down towards this earth.)

The Sistine Chapel, of course, upstaged everything else. Michelangelo's famous fresco is breathtaking in the scope of its composition, the stylized poses of its figures, and the life that the artist infused into each one. Nowhere else have I seen a painting with so many figures that still gives a sense of order and comprehensibility through its composition. I think that Michelangelo achieved this primarily by selecting some of the figures as primary, spacing them out a bit, and painting them larger, bolder, and brigher than the rest; the other figures recede into the background without completely disappearing. I'm thinking now primarily of the figures around the sides of the ceiling, but of course the central scenes (including the famous one of God giving life to Adam) are impressive as well. We stood for a while and soaked in as much as we could, leaving only when our brains were full and our necks stiff.

Dad and Dave took off at that point, leaving Mom and I to visit St. Peter's Basilica on our own. Like many other tourist attractions in Italy, the Basilica is huge:

Also like many of the other attractions, the Romans filled the Basilica with art. Then they put in more art to fill in the spaces between the art. Then they added ornament to fill in the leftover spaces between the interstitial art. And anything in between the ornament is either marble, gold, or bronze.

The main attraction in the Basilica is Michelangelo's Pieta (a depiction of Mary holding the body of the dead Jesus in her arms). Unfortunately, you couldn't get within fifty feet of it, and David's camera had run out of batteries, so (using Mom's) this is the best picture I could get:

There were four large statues adorning the central square of the church that Mom and I liked; here are a couple photos:

After browsing the main hall, Mom and I went up the cupola, or dome. Getting up there requires climbing hundreds of steps, many of them through narrow passageways or on tight spiral staircases:

But when you get up there, you can have a nice birds-eye view of the interior:

As well as some beautiful views of the Square and of Rome beyond:

As we left, we caught a glimpse of some of the Vatican security force, the formidable Swiss Guard, outfitted in their intimidating uniforms:

And as always, I took the time to enjoy the lovely flora and fauna of the area:

In the evening the whole family went out to dinner in the Piazza Navona, the centerpiece of which is the Fountain of the Four Rivers, designed by Bernini:

And then after dinner, we strolled around the Piazza della Rotunda, next to the Pantheon. The entryway to the Pantheon, with its massive Corinthian columns, is impressive, but unfortunately it was too dark to get any good pictures.

With only one more day in Rome (and in Italy), and most of our sightseeing finished, we talked about spending the next day just relaxing, away from the (enriching but taxing) history and art. The journey nearing its end, we went back to the hotel and, once again, conked out.

2000 years of history in one location

2006-05-31T17:31:00.000-07:00

(Originally written offline; continued from previous entry)

After the Borghese, we let Dad go back to the hotel while Mom, Dave and I visited ancient Rome, starting with the Colosseum.

In size and construction, the Colosseum is strikingly similar to a modern football stadium. It has the same ellipsoidal design, and held a crowd of about 70,000. It even had different sections for different strata of society, and a system of awnings to protect those in the seats from sun and rain. It's amazing how little has changed in almost 2,000 years. About the only thing it's missing is a big ancient parking lot.

Much of the Colosseum was damaged in a number of natural disasters, including an earthquake, or taken away by scavengers; what remains is only a skeleton. The seats don't exist anymore, only the walls that once supported them; and the wooden floor of the arena (covered by sand when the stadium was in use) has of course disappeared, exposing the system of tunnels and chambers beneath.

Even more so than most things in Italy, it's hard to give a sense of the scale of the building, but here are a few more pictures to give you an idea:

We took a guided tour, given by a woman who talked a lot in rapid English with a marked Italian accent. I can't say that I learned much from the tour other than the rough history of the building: constructed in the AD 70s, used for a few hundred years, then abandoned for another millenium. Still, I enjoyed visiting the Colosseum just to see the thing for myself and to marvel in the majesty of its size and age:

(A significant part of this whole trip for me is that it's the first time I've ever seen man-made structures that are more than about 400 years old.)

Afterwards, we took an (unguided) stroll through the remains of the Roman Forum, an "open-air museum" containing the ruins of several ancient buildings.

We were a little too tired at this point to try to grasp much more history, so we just strolled around and gaped at the sights.

It's amazing to look at a little pile of bricks or a few lone columns and to think that what you can see is only a tenth or a twentieth of what once existed, millenia ago.

Of course, I kept up my watch for scenes of natural beauty:

In the evening we all went to a nearby Irish pub for dinner. I wanted to see how the Italians did a burger and fries. Not bad, it turns out. Then we went back to the hotel and, as we did more often than not, conked out. Hey, we needed to rest in order to survive the following day: the Vatican.

Three Berninis, and some other stuff

2006-05-31T17:28:00.000-07:00

(Originally written offline on May 31, on the return flight to Washington, DC)

Wheh. We're winging home, and I finally have a chance to sit down and finish writing about the trip.

On our second day in Rome, we had reservations for the Galleria Borghese. The gallery is in a nice park called the Villa Borghese, which has been called the Central Park of Rome, for good reason. The gallery has a number of nice works, and was then featuring an exhibit on Rafael, including his Deposition (a depiction of the dead Jesus being carried away from the cross). I was impressed with the Deposition and other works in the gallery, including the marvelous painting on the ceiling of the main room. The colors in particular were bright and vivid; comparing these works to other paintings of the time, including some of Rafael's work, I gather that they must have been cleaned recently, and I quickly became a supporter of such cleaning.

However, as with the Academy, the majority of the work in the Borghese was overshadowed, for me, by the work of one sculptor: in this case, Bernini. The Borghese houses three famous works by Bernini: Apollo and Daphne, Pluto and Proserpine, and Bernini's David.

The first two are from Greco-Roman mythology. Apollo and Daphne shows the moment when the god Apollo is catching up to the mortal Daphne, just at the moment when, in a salvation of sorts, she is being turned into a tree. Apollo has just put his hand around her waist, but strips of bark are already beginning to encircle her body, and her arms, flung up in the air, are sprouting small branches and leaves. This is an amazing work. Like most of Bernini's great works, it is intensely dramatic. The craftsmanship is also astounding; this work has thin folds of cloth and tiny, delicate leaves—I find it hard to believe that Bernini didn't accidentally knock a few of them off with a slip of his hammer and chisel. The composition is also impressive: the figures are arranged such that from the back, you mostly see the two human figures, but as you walk around it, you see more and more of the bark and branches, so that when you have walked about three quarters of the way around, the figure of Daphne mostly looks like a tree—as if she has completed the transformation before the eyes of the viewer; probably the closest anyone has come to an animation in marble.

Pluto and Proserpine is another god-chases-woman sculpture, although in this one the god has got the woman and is carrying her away. Again, a dramatic and lively sculpture; Proserpine struggles in Pluto's arms and pushes against his head, stretching the skin on his face. In another mark of life and movement striking to see in stone, a few tears run down Proserpine's cheeks. I was amused to notice the details of Cerebus, the three-headed watchdog of the underworld, who stands by Pluto's feet. Showing delightful attention to detail, Bernini gave them each different facial expressions: one is apprehensive, one is barking in fury, and one has an innocent look of curiosity.

My favorite, however, was Bernini's David, taken of course from Judeo-Christian mythology. While Michelangelo's David is shown in calm, confident thought before he goes off to meet the monster Goliath, Bernini's David is shown in the active moment just before he hurls the rock from his sling. Both the sling and David's face are pulled tight with purpose. The figure leans over to put all his weight into the throw, his muscles tense. The fire and life in the work are amazing; looking at it, I could easily imagine the figure whirling around and sending the rock flying through the air. While Michaelangelo's David is still my favorite for its embodiment of serene confidence, I love Bernini's version for its drama and excitement.

All roads lead to...

2006-05-29T16:56:00.000-07:00

Rome has been a blast. We've been here almost three whole days, and this is the first chance I've had to sit down and write about it.

We arrived on the train Saturday morning. The first thing we did after checking in and getting lunch was to take a bus tour of the city. It was one of those double-decker tourist buses, where everyone rides on top to get a good view. This took us to (well, past) almost all the major tourist attractions of Rome, including:

The Piazza Venezia, home of the Monument of Vittorio Emanuele II:

The Colosseum (pictured below) and the Roman Forum (lots more on these later):

The Castel Sant'Angelo, along the Tiber:

And St. Peter's Square and Basilica (tons more on this later):

Having taken in all of Rome in about two hours, we were all a little tired:

So rather than do any of the major attractions, we took a little walk to the Trevi Fountain, of Three Coins in the Fountain fame:

You can't tell from this picture, but the place was swarming with people. Still, we enjoyed visiting, especially Mom and Dad, who know the movie:

We walked back from the Trevi along Via Nazionale, which is a major shopping area, so I decided to stop and buy a pair of shoes. I got a nice, very comfy pair of loafers I'll be able to wear to work for only about 70 Euros. I was able to talk to the saleswoman and the cashier half in Italian. Being able to speak a little of the language is really turning out to be useful. It's true that almost everyone speaks at least some English, but many people speak only a little. For instance, in a hotel, the reception clerks will basically speak English, but the bellhops might only know a little bit. I've had a lot of half-English, half-Italian conversations by now, and the Italian half really helps.

In the evening, Mom and Dad were tired, so Dave and I decided to get dinner by ourselves and then go out dancing. This turned out to be an authentic Italian experience.

It was hard trying to find a place to swing dance in Rome, even on a Saturday night. We had a guidebook that my Mom had gotten out of the library dated 1998, and the Internet and phone. A Google search like "swing dance rome" was only moderately helpful. I found my way to an Italian version of Citysearch, although of course, it was in Italian. I ended up searching for places with "jazz" in the name, and calling them. It was odd to call a place like "The Jazz Cafe" and have a conversation like this:

Jazz Cafe: Buona sera, Jazz Cafe, prego. (Hello, Jazz Cafe, can I help you?)
Me: Buona sera. Sono americano, in vacanza. Stasera, avete la musica jazz? (Hi, I'm an American on vacation. Do you have jazz tonight?)
Jazz Cafe: No.

We found one or two places that did have jazz that evening; at least one place even had it live, but they didn't have dancing. ("Posso ballare?" "Oh, no.") Finally we found a place called La Palma that was having a live concert and dancing afterward. Great! Concert is at 10:30, dancing afterwards, around midnight. Perfect.

So after dinner we went to the train station, figuring it was the easiest place to get a taxi. As we're waiting in line, some guy approaches me from behind and asks if we need a taxi. I say yes and show him the address (Si, Via Giuseppe Miri, 35). He frowns and shakes his head and says something like "Quale zona?" (what zone?) but I don't know what he's talking about. OK, I figure, it's some illegal cab and there's something funny going on I don't know about. No problem, we'll wait for the official cabs. So we get to the front of the line and go up to the next cab and show him the address. He also frowns and says something like he doesn't know where this is and what zone is it in, and I have no idea. Then some people behind us start shouting to us in Italian about where are you going and what's the address and oh you can't go in that taxi, and I'm confused, mostly because all of this is going on in Italian and I can only follow about a third of it, and then some other taxi drives up and some people shout something like that we should get in that one, and we show that address to the driver and he says sure, "La Palma, right?" and we hop in. Wheh.

So we make it to La Palma, which appears to be a restaurant, bar, and jazz club, and we hear a great concert by Testaccio Art of Jazz, an Italian big band. They basically played American standards; the between-song patter, to us, went like this: "something-something-in-Italian Sammy Nestico something-something Count Basie something-something: 'Shiny Stockings.'" They also played "Fly Me to the Moon," "Don't Get around Much Anymore," "Here's That Rainy Day," and "Do Nothing Till You Hear from Me." For several songs they had a vocalist, whom I enjoyed very much. Her English diction was not quite crisp, but for an Italian singing English she was pretty good, and her vocal quality was beautiful. In addition, the band had several good soloists, including a tenor sax with a very melodic line and a lead trumpet with a great sound.

After the concert—which isn't until maybe 12:45, especially since they didn't start until almost 11—we try to dance, but there's basically no one dancing, and the two girls I asked (balliamo!) weren't up for it. So we went out and talked to people instead. We had heard that one of the trombonists was an American expat, so we introduced ourselves to her and chatted for a while. We told her about the fiasco with the taxis, and she said yeah, "that's like in New York when you get in a cab and they say they don't go to Brooklyn." She also told us that there's never any real dancing at La Palma, but that they'll say anything on the phone to get people to come. Oh, well.

While we're standing around staring at the crowd, barely able to talk to anyone, some girl comes up and starts speaking to me in rapid, enthusiastic Italian. I can't figure out what she's saying, but David, who's standing nearby, tells me half-jokingly that she's asking for my number and wants to go out. After a few moments we realize that is what she wants. Whoah, I say, first things first. I got her to introduce herself, and told her my name. Does she speak English? "Leetle, leetle," she says, holding her thumb and forefinger close together. "Parlo italiano un poco," I said ("I speak Italian a little"). So the rest of the conversation is in fractured Itanglish. "So you want my number?" She nods enthusiastically. "Um...." I take out my rented international cell phone. She grabs it, keys in her number, and calls her phone from mine; now we have each other's numbers. She says she will call me tomorrow (domani) and we will go out (uschiamo!) I say OK, whatever, and ask her to dance. Not now, she says, her ragazzo (boyfriend) is here. (!) She runs off. I tell our new American friend what happened, just to make sure I'm not being played or scammed, but she says probably not. "That was a come-on. Welcome to Italy." Indeed. (Incidentally, she never called.)

So we didn't get to dance in the end, but all in all, our first day and night in Rome is a success.

More pictures!

2006-05-29T14:34:00.000-07:00

We finally got Mom's camera hooked up to my laptop and could upload all her pictures. Here are some highlights from Venice and Florence. I'll put all the Rome stuff together later.

The Crawford Bros. do Venice:

One of the little tunnel-streets of Venice:

The David, in Florence:

The "universal machine of the world" from the Florence science museum:

The restaurant where we had dinner our last night in Florence:

The family at dinner:

David leaning out over the Arno to snap a picture, with Dad helping:

Jason relaxing by the river:

Next post: Rome....

Arrivederci, Florence

2006-05-29T14:13:00.000-07:00

(Originally written offline on May 27 at 10:22am Italy time, on the train from Florence to Rome)

Dinner last night was lovely. We made reservations at a place next to the Piazzale Michelangelo, which is on top of a hill across the Arno, overlooking the city. It's a beautiful place to see a sunset, with the fading light reflecting off the river, and we took the opportunity to walk around and soak in the view:

Yes, that's yet another replica of the David there in the Piazzele, this one I think in bronze. Apparently Mike got a lot of mileage out of that one.

Earlier I mentioned Italian traffic. It's a little nuts. Cars and especially motorcycles turn at intersections and go through crosswalks without seeming to pay much heed to the pedestrians who are trying to cross. In fact, crosswalks have only a loose relationship to where people actually cross; the safety gap between the crosswalks and other parts of the street is smaller than in the US. Streets are often narrow, but cars still squeeze by each other with little margin for error. Worse, the sidewalks are often narrow, sometimes dwindling to as small as about two feet, leaving pedestrians in a very tight space when, say, a bus goes by. In some crowded areas, people just sort of spill into the street, or maybe rather cars and trucks just decide to drive through town squares—I can't always tell which. Somehow the cars slow down a little and the people disperse a little and the vehicles make it through and no one gets injured. The drivers don't even honk their horns; it's just accepted as the norm.

In general, Italians seem nice and friendly, but perhaps a little disorganized. It was difficult to find our way around the museums, for instance. At the Uffizi, the recorded audio tour didn't do a good job of telling you where to find the paintings it was talking about, and we got further confused about what room we were in and where to go next—some of the rooms didn't have commentary, and some of the commentary didn't match up with any rooms we could find. At the science museum, some of the exhibit signs were translated, but not all of them; there was a book you could carry around with you with some English translations, but they didn't have enough for everyone, so you had to share; and what commentary we could find was along the lines of "this thing was made by this guy in that year," as opposed to "see, here is how the progression of these things illustrates the progression of man's knowledge."

Also, I think the whole country needs to read Managing Expectations, or something on the same subject. I mentioned earlier the lack of announcement about the delayed flight on our first day. Another example: my mother emailed the hotel in Florence to ask them to make reservations for us at the Academy and Uffizi, which they did, but neglected to confirm with us—she never got any response at all—so she went ahead and made reservations herself, and we ended up with two sets. We didn't find out until we got to the hotel.

But all these are minor complaints. We're having a great time. Today we are on our way to Rome, where we will visit the Colosseum, Forum, and Pantheon; the Vatican, including St. Peter's Basilica and the Sistine Chapel; and the Borghese gallery. In addition, I'm going to shop for a pair of shoes, and Dave and I are going to try to find a place to go swing dancing. It will be the last leg of our trip, and, I expect, the most intense.

Michelangelo's Madonna and Galileo's telescope

2006-05-28T09:55:00.000-07:00

(Originally written offline on May 26 at 6:09pm Italy time, in Florence)

This afternoon my mom and I went to the Galleria degli Uffizi, one of the major art galleries in Florence, featuring paintings and sculpture from about the fourteenth century up through maybe the eighteenth, including works by Rafael, Botticelli, da Vinci, and Michelangelo.

The progression through the centuries is interesting. The early works are all religious, and are usually figures on a gold background—no earth or sky. The figures are flat, with little form or life, and the skin is often pale and sickly-looking. The figures of Madonna and Christ child show Jesus as a baby but with a wise, aged face, holding up his hand in blessing. With the Renaissance, backgrounds are introduced; we see hills, trees, sky. The figures gain form—one Madonna was noted as the first to show evidence of her knees and breasts underneath the heavy folds of her robes, causing quite a scandal—and color returns to their cheeks. The baby Jesuses you see in the Madonnas look and act more like babies. In Michelangelo's Madonna, which is strikingly colorful, Mary is not a soft figure, but has firm muscles (I've heard that Michelangelo used male models even for his female figures), and the Christ child is not sitting peacefully, but is restless and is seems to be trying to climb onto her shoulders. In addition, non-religious subjects are introduced as the centuries progress. Some are references to Greek mythology; some are portraits; some are figures with no apparent reference, standing on their own.

I preferred the sculpture to the paintings; I liked the many portrait busts as well as the full figures. I liked seeing Michaelangelo's Madonna and I enjoyed some of the portrait paintings, but I have to admit that most of the paintings don't do much for me, even Boticelli's Birth of Venus or da Vinci's Enunciation, two of the most famous works in the gallery.

After the Uffizi Mom and I joined my dad and brother for the Institute and Musem of the History of Science, which is right around the corner. The museum houses instruments, tools, inventions, charts, etc., some dating back several centuries (there was even an astrolabe from I think 1085). Some of the highlights, for me: one of the first mechanical calculators, built in the seventeenth century (!) and dedicated to the Grand Duke Cosimo III (!!); many early microscopes; an enormous "universal machine of the world," constructed in the sixteenth century by Antonio Santucci for Ferdinando I de' Medici, which simulates the motions of the stars predicted by the Ptolemaic system; early thermometers and barometers; some very large telescopes made mostly of wood, with apparatus for positioning them precisely; various machines for collecting static electricity, some of them several feet tall; early electric motors and vacuum chambers; lifesize wax models of pregnancy and complications thereof for the instruction of surgeons and midwives; and—my personal favorite—two telescopes made and used by Galileo in the early seventeenth century, and the lens he used to discover the moons of Jupiter in January 1610 (placed in an ornate ivory frame in 1677, many years after Galileo's death).

After basically five straight hours of museums, we were ready to go back to the hotel and rest before dinner; we managed to hop a bus that was going in the right direction. It was an experience that seems typical of Italy: we got on the bus without buying tickets; the bus driver told us how much the fare was, but there was nowhere for us to put the money, although there was some sort of ticket-punching machine on board; some people on the bus told us that it didn't matter and the driver was letting us ride for free this time, although we should buy some tickets later at a tobacco shop for future use; the driver didn't ask for our money as we were getting off and probably would have let us get off without paying; but we gave him the money anyway and he took it, perhaps just pocketing it. Italian traffic in general seems equally well-organized.

Whoops, the cab's here to take us to dinner. Will write more (and post all of this!) later....

A Pittiful afternoon

2006-05-27T11:26:00.000-07:00

(Originally written offline on May 26 at 5:45pm Italy time, in Florence)

Just to pick up where I left off, describing yesterday:

The Pitti palace is amazing. Mom, Dave and I just bought tickets for the garden and walked around. Again, it's hard to give a sense of the scale of it, but Dave and I tried to capture as much as we could on film. Here are a couple of partial shots of the courtyard, the first thing you encounter:

(That's Dave in the middle in the first shot.) Behind the palace itself is the enormous Giardino di Boboli (Boboli Garden), which is not unlike a city park, with trails, fountains, and statuary everywhere. Here's a shot of the palace from the garden:

The trail ascends as you walk away from the palace; by the time you're near the top, you have a pretty nice view. Here's Dave chilling near the top of the hill, with the gardens, the palace, Florence, and the hills in the background:

As in other places, the sculpture is everywhere. Here are just a few examples:

Mom ran into one figure who seemed particularly belligerent, and decided to pick a fight:

I guess she figured that any advantage he had in strength, weight, and endurance was balanced by her relative speed and agility.

At the very top of the hill is a nice flower garden:

And beyond, some very nice views of the hills and houses behind the Pitti:

We enjoyed spending time in the garden.

We also took the opportunity to photograph some of the wildlife there:

In addition, I borrowed the camera to capture a favorite subject of mine that David had been neglecting: the women. My approach was pretty simple, I would walk up and say, "Can I take a photo of you?" Of course, it works better when you have a fancy camera. And when you say it in Italian. Both of which I did.

Mi scusi, signorina, posso fare un foto di te?

Bella, bella!

Grazie mille!

(I took more than that, but those are the only two I liked enough to post. Need to get better at getting people to pose and smile well.)

In the evening, we spent a little time out by the river at dusk.

Dave liked this one of me, although I think I have a bit of a funny expression on my face:

I will write more later—today we went to the Uffizi gallery and the science museum, so I have much to tell.

The David, and some other stuff

2006-05-27T03:39:00.000-07:00

(Originally written offline on May 26 at 10:33am Italy time, in Florence. I'm a little behind in my posting.)

Mom and Dave are both feeling a little sick, so they've gone to see a doctor. I conked out last night before getting to edit photos or write anything, so I'm doing that now.

Yesterday morning I got up early and took a little walk around Florence. I basically went from our hotel to the Fortezza da Basso and back. It was nice to get a taste of what the city is like away from all the tourists and tourist spots. Frankly, it didn't seem that much different from an American city, except that the traffic is a little crazier (especially with all those people on motorcycles). At one point I was mistaken for a local: Some guy stopped me on the street, pointed at his car, and said "Mi scusa, la macchina something something?" (translation: "Excuse me, something something about my car?") I think he was asking me if he could park there. Fortunately, I didn't have to let on that I was a tourist, because I knew enough Italian to answer him: "Non so" ("I don't know").

That morning we went to the Galleria dell'Accademia. There were various paintings there, and a room with original plaster casts of sculptures, many of which were nice. I remember in particular a statue of a praying angel that touched me: it was just a little girl, maybe ten years old, with wings, holding her hands together in prayer. Her head was cocked to the side, as if saying to God, "pretty please?" There was no fear or pain in her face, no tension in her body—even her hands were not pressed together tightly; her palms did not touch, only her fingers—and she should have been asking her father if he would take her to the ballet, pretty please?

All of this, however, was overshadowed by the David. The sculpture is at the end of a long hall, so when you first round the corner, you see it from about a hundred feet away (which is perhaps about the ideal distance). The statue must be about fifteen feet high, and it stands on a pedestal which itself must be six or seven feet high, so you can see it from the end of hte hall even when there are people everywhere (which there were). It stands by itself, framed by the half-cyclinder carved out of the wall behind it, protected by a glass barrier from tourists who want to get too familiar, and rigged with a device to measure vibrations (which I found just a little intrusive, but if it helps them preserve the statue in the long run, it's worth it).

I have seen so many pictures of the sculpture, including a poster I hang on my wall, that seeing it in person was more like greeting an old friend than making a new acquaintance. Still, actually being there was quite an experience. My mother stopped in mid-sentence when we first rounded the corner and saw it. I walked down the corridor towards it slowly, then walked around it several times, to get every angle. I walked to remote corners of the adjoining wings to get longer angles, and came up close to get dramatic upward views. I tried to keep my eyes on it as I moved (as much as possible without bumping into people), to get the full experience of seeing it in three dimensions. I was at first annoyed by how much and how loudly people were talking (although not surprised, since I am unusual in taking my art as seriously as some take their religion), but they quickly faded into the background and I could focus on the work.

The statue itself it famous enough, and has been photographed enough, that I won't waste words describing it here; I would be hard-pressed to do it justice anyway. I believe that Sandra Shaw (an artist and art historian of my acquaintance) called it the greatest sculpture ever made, and I have to agree. It is a figure of strength, ability, and serene confidence—man facing the world unafraid and able to conquer any obstacle. Seeing it in person, I knew that at the end of my life, I would list among my greatest moments and achievements: "I went to Italy and saw the David."

On our way back from the hotel, we stopped to look at the Santa Maria del Fiore and Giotto's Tower in Florence's Piazza del Duomo ("Cathedral Square"). Santa Maria has an amazing facade, incredibly ornate, full of statues, reliefs, and other ornament. I couldn't get back far enough to get a good shot of the building, but here are a few pictures to give you a taste:

Right across from the cathedral is the Battistero di San Giovanni, an octagonal building with the same level of ornament.

This building is famous for its doors, each of which contains several reliefs depicting Bible scenes (what else?) Here's the main door:

We stopped off for lunch back at the Piazza della Signoria, where we were the day before; here's the family on the patio:

I'm not there because I was taking the picture. I started taking more pictures that day, as Dave was a little tired (if the pictures aren't as good as before, that's why). For instance, I snapped this quick one of a bicyclist in the Piazza d. Signoria:

There are a lot of people on bikes around here.

Dad then went back to the hotel for a rest, while Mom, Dave and I went to the Palazzo Pitti (literally, Pitti Palace, the home of a very wealthy family of several centuries ago). On the way we stopped to take some pictures of the Arno from that Old Bridge:

Whoops, have to go meet Mom at the Uffizi. Will write more and post this all later....

Lunch with the gods

2006-05-24T17:00:00.000-07:00

We arrived in Florence and found our hotel just fine. The train itself was nice; Dad liked it a lot:

It was time for a late lunch, so we took a walk to a place the hotel staff recommended. It was a nice stroll along the Arno River, which runs through Florence. Here I am chilling on the Arno:

We walked past the Ponte Vecchio (literally, Old Bridge), which is a major tourist spot, and rounded the corner to the Piazza della Signoria, where the reception clerk told us we could have a nice lunch.

The Piazza is a big open square with a lot of sculpture. In this picture you can see an equestrian statue in the center and a fountain of Neptune more to the right. The building you can see the corner of on the right is the Palazzo Vecchio (literally, Old Palace):

Yes, that's a replica of the David just to the left of the door, and another statue in the shadows to the right of the door, and there are even more off the frame to the left. And there are several more minor ones that I'm not even bothering to mention.

So just we're sitting on the patio of this little pizzeria, la-dee-da, getting lunch, and I'm kind of looking around, thinking "wow, there's a lot of art in this square," when suddenly I notice something that looks familiar—whoah, is that the Rape of the Sabine Women?

Sure enough—as far as I can tell, it's the original. It's part of a whole little outdoor sculpture museum, the Loggia della Signoria:

This is one thing I love about Italy: the art is everywhere. I noticed this even in Venice. There have to be more sculptures outdoors just stuck on buildings than there are in the museums of most major cities in America. It makes me realize how much the Renaissance was an intensely spiritual age, when gods walked the earth and stood proudly by even as you ate your lunch or went to the bank.

Here are nice some closeups of the art (again thanks to Dave and his photography skills):

Hercules Beating the Centaur Nessus, in the Loggia:

Cellini's Perseus, also in the Loggia:

That Neptune, and his horses:

The replica of the David outside the Palazzo Vecchio:

Hercules and Cacus, the other sculpture flanking the entrance to the Palazza:

All of this in one square.

New York—still my favorite city—was built by an energetic, industrious, and ambitious spirit, and that shows in its architecture and layout. But after spending one afternoon in Florence, I realize how spiritually lacking it is, in comparison. I say this not in contempt for New York or for America, but in pity, because I think this kind of life—with ubiquitous figures of gods and heroes dramatizing strength, courage, and confidence—is what America deserves. Maybe someday, at last, we will bring the spirit of the heroes and the gods across the ocean to our own shores, to remind us daily of the heroic potential within ourselves and the virtues we must strive to practice. Perhaps if men walked daily among the gods, we would find more gods among our men.

By the way, just around the corner was the Uffizi, one of the major art galleries in Florence; here's a glance down its corridor:

So maybe it's not such a coincidence that there was a ton of art around the place. But I think my point still stands.

Tomorrow: the Academmia, and the David.

Leaving Venice

2006-05-24T16:48:00.000-07:00

(Written offline on May 24 at 11:30am Italy time, while riding on a train)

Oggi partiamo Venezia per Firenze. Today we are leaving Venice for Florence.

We finished our time in Venice with a few last stops. Mom, David and I went to the Leonardo da Vinci museum, featuring working models of many of his inventions. The ingenuity was impressive and inspiring. Some of the more interesting things I remember: a crane hook that was counterbalanced with a weight so that when the load was set on the ground, the hook would automatically disengage; a "safety crane" that held its load between a pair of tongs set up so that the heavier the weight, the more forcefully it was held in place; a lifting machine in which a large gear was turned by a screw—since the screw was in contact with several teeth at once, it put less force on each individual tooth, and if one tooth broke, the machine as a whole would still work; a bridge design that could be erected quickly using easy-to-transport materials such as short logs and ropes—good for military use; an animatronic suit of armor; machines that used ball bearings; machines for turning continuous rotational motion into alternating motion (sliding a piece back and forth a long a shaft) or regular percussive motion (as with a cam that drove the pounding of a hammer); and an automatic scythe—a war machine with four scythes that you would roll down a hill at your enemies. Here's a picture:

There was also a mirror room with six or eight mirrored walls; you would walk in and close the door and be surrounded by mirrors. Dave and I went in and he snapped a picture with us back to back:

On the way to the museum, we ran into the first guy who humored me in my attempts to speak the local language, a vaporetto driver who spoke Italian back to me even though it was obvious that I was an American. That was very nice of him. Incidentally, the Italian accent (when speaking English) is nothing like the stereotype (you know, "I-a think-a the spaghetti, it-a need-a more-a sauce-a.") There is a definite accent, but it's just what you'd expect: they pronounce their vowels more like Eurpoean vowels, flip their r's, etc.

That evening we went to dinner at a Chinese restaurant. Yes, Venice has a Chinatown. I was amused to see how Chinese dishes are translated into Italian. All the noodle dishes were listed as "spaghetti," and the dumplings were billed as "ravioli." I ordered zuppe agro-piccola (hot and sour soup), pollo alle mandorle (chicken with almonds), and a te cinese (Chinese tea). It was the first place I was able to get real tea—at other restaurants, the the freddo (iced tea) was basically Lipton Nestea out of a can—dissapointing. Incidentally, we haven't been impressed with the food yet, although we've heard that the cuisine is better in Florence and Rome than in Venice. (And we've been eating at the cheaper places. We'll get a nice dinner somewhere before the trip is over.)

Finally, we caught a concert in the evening by a Venetian jazz quartet: guitar, bass, drums, and vocalist. I wondered if we were going to hear Porter and Gershwin translated into Italian, but of course, the vocalist sang in English, except for a Jobim song or two, which I think were in the original Portuguese(?)

Overall, Venice was charming and relaxing, but somehow I feel it was just a novelty, almost a resort town, compared to how Florence and Rome will be. Tomorrow we have reservations at the Academmia, which houses Michelangelo's David—sure to be the highlight of the trip. We're also going to the Uffizi (another art museum) and to a science museum where you can see Galeleio's telescope. I can't help but feel that Venice was just a lovely overture to the trip, and now the curtain is going up on Act I. I'm looking forward to it.

PS: I know I'm misspelling some of the Italian here: specifically, I'm neglecting to add accents. Haven't quite figured out the HTML codes for them, and I'm trying to limit my time online.

PPS: Getting on the train was the first time that my Italian language skills (such as they are) were actually useful. When I looked at the ticket, I had noticed the word "carrozza" and realized we had an assigned train car. If it hadn't been for that, we probably would have gotten on some random car.

Pictures!

2006-05-24T16:40:00.000-07:00

As I promised, here are some highlights from the great pictures Dave is taking.

Here's one of the side canals:

The Grand Canal at night:

Dave and I on the Ponte Scalzi, just outside our hotel:

Some of the Venetians like to decorate their boats:

The outdoor music here is, generally, in much better taste than I am used to in the states. This guy struck up "La Vie en Rose" as we walked by; I was so pleased I tossed him a 1-Euro coin:

This guy was playing some Beatles or something, but on a guitar in classical style:

The gondoliers really do wear those striped shirts and flat hats:

BTW, I've also added a few pictures to the previous post, so if you read it already, go back and scan for the new pics. Sorry about that; now that we're in a city with a little more infrastructure and there is wireless access in the hotel lobby, I'll try to do things in a more linear fashion going forward.

Exploring Venice

2006-05-23T05:32:00.000-07:00

Wasn't able to get to an "Internet point" last night before they all closed. Venice is not exactly an all-night town; they seem to roll up the canals around here around 11pm (sorry, 23:00).

We've been having a great time so far. As I was saying in the last post, entering the city was a great experience, especially when we made our way through the smaller canals and entered the Canal Grande. The Grand Canal lives up to its name. It's about 50m across, much wider than most of the canals, with vaporetti (water buses), water taxis, and private boats.

Along the sides of this and the other canals, many buildings have doors that enter directly onto the water, without even a little patio that I could see. I suppose you just step right into your boat.

Here's Dad greeting the city:

Mom was enjoying herself as well:

After checking in to our hotel yesterday, we walked to Ponte Rialto, the biggest bridge in Venice.

We just walked through the streets and kind of followed the signs, when we could find them. Nothing here is laid out in any kind of order; little streets and alleys and tunnels just kind of grow off of each other in all directions. There isn't consistent signage, and when there are signs, the are just painted right on to the sides of buildings. Even with a map, it's often very hard to figure out where you are or where you're going, unless you're trying to find a major tourist point, like Rialto or Piazza San Marco or the Ferrovia (railway), in which case there are usually enough signs pointing the way.

We were planning to go on to Piazza San Marco, but between the walking, the sun, and the jet lag, some of us were getting pretty tired, so we hopped on a vaporetto back to the hotel, where we all crashed for a little while before going out for a late dinner. Today we did make it to San Marco, where there is San Marco's Basilica (a cathedral), the Doge's palace (a doge is basically a duke), a clock tower (which unfortunately was covered up), and the Campanile, a bell tower that, at ten stories, is one of the tallest structures in Venice. There we encountered this guy, whom we dubbed the Birdman of San Marco, feeding about a hundred pigeons:

We went up the Campanile and got a great view:

I guess when they built Venice, there was only one supplier of shingles. Maybe he was an ancestor of Henry Ford (you can have any color you want, as long as it's red).

This is the view looking to the East. The building in the lower half of the picture is the doge's palace:

The Italian-speaking is going well. I can't exactly carry on sophisticated conversations, but I am able to ask simple questions, buy tickets or stamps, and order food, mostly without restoring to English. I got my first opportunity on the plane to Milan, actually—the flight attendant came by and said "something something carne o pesce?" and I was able to say "carne, per favore." A little later I even was able to ask the same guy, "quando arriviamo?" (when do we arrive?) and understand when he said "otto e quaranto cinque" (8:45). Of course, when you speak Italian to people, you run the risk that they will speak it back to you, as when I asked the water taxi driver "Che cos'e quello?" (what is that?), pointing to a structure on the side of the Grand Canal, and he said: "somtingo een radpido italiano Leonardo da Vinci musem." I had gotten that much from the big sign. But usually even when I ask in Italian, I get a response in English. Guess I give off the American tourist vibe.

Or maybe they're just making a good guess, because I think the prior probability of any given person in Venice being an American tourist is about 60%. As far as I can tell, tourists outnumber real people here by about two to one. I swear I've overheard more conversations in English than in Italian.

Overall, we're really enjoying it here. Venice is a perfect place to relax and enjoy the charm of a city that doesn't seem to have changed very much for several hundred years. As far as I can tell, there are no cars or streets in Venice, which contributes to a slow pace. Everyone walks or gets around by boat. And I mean everyone—we even saw a UPS boat while hanging out at Rialto.

David's been taking a ton of pictures; I will upload some highlights later when I get more time online.

Arriviamo!

2006-05-23T05:24:00.000-07:00

(Originally written offline on May 22 at 1:19pm Italy time, in Venice)

Arriviamo in Venezia! We arrive in Venice.

The rest of the trip went fine. We caught our connecting flight in Milan with no problem; here we are boarding the plane (from the tail, which I thought was cool):

We then took a water taxi to Venice. I ventured out up front with the driver to get the best view as we approached the city.

Approaching Venice and entering the city was a magnificent moment. It was just what I've seen in movies, but live and in person.

Whoops, have to go....

In transit

2006-05-23T05:14:00.000-07:00

(Originally written offline on May 21 at 7:48pm Eastern, on Alitalia flight AZ623 from Dulles to Milan)

We got our first taste of Italian administration today when our flight out of DC was two hours late. Now, late flights happen from time to time, but most American airlines have at least learned how to handle customer relations when they happen—for instance, giving regular updates on flight status. The Alitalia personnel gave few announcements and, when I asked for updates, looked at me as if they couldn't quite understand why I wanted to know. Oh, well. I only hope we don't miss our connection in Milan. Maybe we'll be lucky and that flight will be delayed as well.

One other thing: We didn't board the plane right at the gate; we boarded shuttles which drove to the plane and hooked directly up to it. There were enough people to fill two shuttles. I was impressed for a moment when I saw that they were using both the front and rear doors, connecting both shuttles at once. The moment passed when I realized that they hadn't binned the passengers by row, and that we, who had seats in the back of the plane, were boarding at the front. As we shuffled down the aisles, we passed several people who had the reverse problem.

I grabbed a window seat, making my brother sit on the aisle next to me, and I'm looking out at clouds now—over the Atlantic, I presume. As we took off, I realized that we will be leaving the sun behind, flying literally through the night, and seeing it rise again on the other side before we land. For every hour we fly, we will advance almost two hours in sun time. (Which reminds me, I'd better get some sleep.) Indeed, as I write this, I can look back and see the sun floating on the horizon, about to descend below the clouds.

I'm now reading a Lonely Planet Italian phrasebook that I bought my mom for Mother's Day, trying to learn more words. The pre-flight announcements were given in both English and Italian; I listened hard but could usually only pick out isolated words and short phrases: questo volo (this flight), l'uscita (the exit), in casa d'emergencia (in case of emergency), etc. At one point I understood a whole sentence, and was very pleased with myself, but now I've forgotten what it was.

I don't think the reality of this trip has hit me yet. I had a brief flicker of excitement as we were taking off, as the physical ascent of the plane made me realize, "Oh wow, I'm actually going to another country! Another continent! Another hemisphere!" I think I will pull out my iPod later and listen to "Journey to the Island" (from Jurassic Park); that would fit my mood perfectly.

The journey begins

2006-05-20T20:12:00.000-07:00

(Originally written offline at 11:35am Pacific time, in the limo going to the airport)

And so my journey begins. I'm only flying to the East Coast today to join my family, but already I feel a sense of excitement and adventure.

I've been wanting to do this trip, or something like it, for a long time. This will be my first significant trip outside the US (discounting a couple road trips to Canada and one or two island vacations when I was pretty young). My younger brother has already been to Paris, so he's ahead of me on becoming a man of the world.

For me, the main attractions of Italy are Renaissance art and ancient Roman history. Thus the cities we're going to: Venice, Florence and Rome. (Venice is the setting of one of my favorite movies, so we had to throw that one in there.) I'm really looking forward to seeing the Colosseum, and seeing the David in person will be one of the highlights of my life.

I've been studying Italian a bit through some audio courses I downloaded. Io parlo italiano un piccolo poco adesso. We'll see how much I remember in the field (beyond buon giorno, grazie, and arrivederci), and whether it's helpful in getting around at all. I've heard that the Europeans like you better if you at least try to speak the language before you fail and fall back to English (which supposedly everyone speaks in all the major tourist cities anyway).

First post

2006-05-20T08:45:00.000-07:00

So I finally got a blog. The catalyst was that I'm taking a trip to Italy: I'd like to share the experience with friends and record the memories for myself, and I figured this might be the best medium. (I was originally thinking I would keep a trip diary on paper and then write up a travelogue, with photos, after I got back, but given how busy I normally am, this method has a much higher likelihood of actually happening.) Of course, blogging it in real time depends on somehow getting Internet access in Italy—we'll see if that happens.

Not sure how much I will blog when I get back. I may use it to record and share random observations, hypotheses, or personal comments. I've never particularly cared to have a public diary, though, and that's not what this will be.

PS, as I spell-check my first post before publishing it: Guess which word is not in Blogger's dictionary? That's right: "blog." I find that highly amusing.