LAST DAY IN ROME

Bob slept in today, so Gary, Karin and I (Steward) were on our own without our map reader. Somehow we managed to find our way to our destinations and even return safely home in the afternoon.


Our first stop was the Palazzimo alle Terme, a relative new and modern museum with splendid lighting and explanations in English as well as Italian. It traces Roman history for about six centuries through statues, mosiacs, frescoes, and even entire rooms preserved from villas dating back to the time of Augustus (just before and after 1 AD).


One thing I'd never seen before was mosaics made not of tiny colored stones, but of pieces of colored marble and semi-precious stones. Here are a couple of examples, one of them about some lovely ladies raping a clearly distressed young man.  



We then had enough energy to stop by Palazzo Barbarini to see, among other things, two more Caravaggios: "Narcissus" and "Judith Beheading Holofernes." Although Judith, by seducing Holofernes, getting him drunk, cutting off his head, and thereby saving her people from slaughter, looks conflicted. "How can I do such a terrible thing? How can I NOT do such a terrible thing?" The old hag standing behind her with a bag to carry off the head clearly had no such qualms.

THE VILLA BORGHESE, THE ECSTASY & A NAP!

Some people have asked about the apartment that we are staying in while in Rome. Since it is only a two bedroom and we had booked it in advance, Gary is staying at The Best Western Piccadilly...just two blocks away. For information on our apartment, here is the web site:  www.casacleme.com

Last night, Gary's concierge reported that the strike had been settled, so we had another Brucato Morning--off at the crack of dawn to be the first in line at the Villa Borghese, hoping to get in. When it finally opened, the clerk apologetically said we'd have to go on stand-by, since our reservation was for yesterday when the place was closed. So, as soon as everyone else went in, we returned, and he actually gave us four passes free of charge. 

Cardinal Scipione Borghese was fabulously wealthy and his uncle was the Pope, so he was able to build himself an incredible villa surrounded by acres of gardens and parks. He had an excellent eye for art, and whatever he wanted, he got by buying, bribing, or even using his Papal connections to convince owners that it would be in their best interest to donate pieces to his collection.

The villa today seems as fresh and new as it must have been when the Cardinal lived in it. Every inch of the place is covered with paintings, fescoes, mosiacs, real and faux marble, gold leaf trim, painted ceilings--you name it. Room after room after room after room.

One of them had no fewer than seven Caravaggio paintings in it, although one was on loan. One was a portrait of himself as a boy with a lecherous look. On the opposite wall was another boy, his favorite model, holding a large basket of ripe fruit as if inviting you to sample some of the delights he had to offer. But next to this was another picture of an emaciated shepherd boy with the worldly look of one who has seen it all. It's title was "St. John."

Caravaggio was the bad boy of the late or even post-Renaissance. Before he was 21, he'd spent a year in jail for something, and shortly thereafter, when he came to Rome, he was protected for some time by powerful patrons. Only when he killed someone did he have to flee and spend the rest of his life on the run. He died at the age of 39 on his way back to Rome hoping for a Papal pardon.


Borghese, who had known Caravaggio personally, somehow acquired what was probably his last painting, one that he may have been taking to the Pope as a peace offering. It depicts David, not as the heroic slayer of giants that Michelangelo carved, but rather as a sad, young man holding the Goliath's severed head by the hair.  

As in most of Caravaggio's paintings, light and dark help create the theatricality of the moment, but even more, the expression on David's face leads to many interpretations as he gazes on the head, which is actually a self-portrait of the artist. Could this be a portrait of a youthful Caravaggio looking mournfully at what he had become, an  anguished, haunted man destroyed by years of dissipation? Or perhaps it's a plea to the Pope for forgiveness for the murder he committed years earlier? Or maybe it's Youth symbolically looking at the the face of Age? Who knows? All I can say is that the expressions on both faces and the tension between them are enough to move one to tears.

And while we're on the subject of David, Borghese also has one carved in marble by Bernini, another contemporary who is well represented in the Cardinal's collection. Some critics consider Bernini to be an even greater sculptor than Michelangelo, and we have two statues of the same subject to compare. The latter's David is probably the most famous sculpture in the world, but the one by Bernini also has a valid claim to greatness.

The one by Michelangelo, which is in Florence and reproduced on coffee mugs and tee shirts all over the world, shows a youth gazing with calm determination at the job ahead of him, killing the giant Goliath with just a sling shot. The stillness, beauty and confidence of the statue became the symbol of the City of Florence itself. The one by Bernini, however, captures the dramatic moment—the split second—before David hurls the stone. The expression of angry determination on this David's face contributes to the energy of the sculpture, and it invites the viewer to share that space, that moment in time, that emotion.

There's one other Bernini statue I want to include before we leave Rome, a city that is filled with his statues. It's the main attraction in a tiny church we stopped at on our way home. It's  Bernini's famous "Ecstasy of Saint Teresa," which he carved for the Cornaro family, four members of whom are seen, carved in marble, in a nearby box, as if at a theater, discussing what's happening on the stage before them.

Bernini depicts the saint at the very moment she experiences what she later described as the pure ecstasy of God's love. If you didn't know the title of the piece, you'd think it was close to pornographic. As some wag put it, “If that's what religion feels like, I'm all for it.”

The amazing thing is how Bernini could transform hard, cold marble into a woman who seems to float on air as an angel readies another arrow to thrust into her. Nothing in sculpture before or since has produced anything quite like this. The Cornaros not only paid Bernini to create this masterpiece, but they also gave him free reign to design the chapel it's displayed in. The burst of divine light falling from the heavens onto the statue is actually a concealed skylight. In fact, the whole place is a stage set for this extraordinary, frozen moment of pure (holy?)rapture.

One look at my three companions as we left the Cornaro Chapel matched my own sense of exhaustion at the overload of art we'd experienced this morning--that plus the two early-morning departures and the temperature that, by noon, was edging up to the predicted 86 lead us to the wise decision to head straight home for some much-needed down time, otherwise known as naps.

SATURDAY MORNING UPDATE

We are TOLD that the strike is over. So we are heading back out to Villa Borghese this morning to see what they will do with our reservations for yesterday. There is a Plan B, but no need to go into that now.

Weather is to be cloudy and 86 today. Tomorrow is to be 75 (!) but with a 70% chance of rain. Gives real meaning to "Go With The Flow."

WHEN LIFE GIVES YOU LEMONS...

The Villa Borghese is about the most perfect museum I know of anywhere. It is set in the largest park in the city—one that has miraculously survived since it was begun in 1605 by Cardinal Scipione Borghese. We had reserved tickets way in advance, and had had a "Brucato Morning" start (EARLY) to be there when it opened. You can see how pleased we were to have made it in time. 

Eventually, a mousey little man opened the door and began explaining in Italian (what else?) to mostly English-speaking tourists that ALL the museum workers in the city (or in the country) had gone on strike. As you can see in the next photo, one lady, from New York, I think, demanded to know what he was going to do about giving her a refund? He shrugged and mumbled in Italian what sounded like "Closed, sorry."

So, the highlight of our trip to Rome suddenly vanished. As "tour guide," the only notes I'd brought were for the Villa and one or two other museums. So, we we quickly changed plans and strolled through the park to Pincio Hill overlooking Piazza del Popolo to see the obelisk that Emperor Hadrian had made to honor his boyfriend Antinous, who had drowned in the Nile at the age of 19 or 20. Hadrian had him declared a god, and the obelisk, which had been moved several times since it was made around 135 AD, probably marked the burial site of Antinous. However, no one knows where that original site actually was.

We then stopped at the Church of Santa Maria del Popolo, the Basilica de Sant' Agostino, and the Saint Luigi Church, none of which were on strike and all of which had paintings by Caravaggio.  

I'll pick only one of them to illustrate here, his "Calling of St. Matthew." This picture along with two others about the saint helped establish the his reputation. Like a stage set, it captures the moment when JC (on the right with the faint halo) summons Matthew, who was busy counting taxes for the Romans, to drop everything and follow Him. Matthew, surprised at the unexpected turn of events, seems to ask, “Who me?”

Note the light on his face (divine presence?) and particularly the hand of JC, which is almost a copy of Michelangelo's iconic hand of Adam receiving the spark of life from God. Some of the others at the table are so busy with their worldly job of counting money (or figuring out which are two Euro coins versus 50 cent pieces) that they miss the chance of a long after-lifetime, while the two boys (It's a Caravaggio after all.) are not quite sure what to make of the situation.  

Another building we visited, the Pantheon, was built almost two thousand years ago by Emperor Hadrian and has been in continuous use ever since. It's the best preserved ancient building in the world, and its dome was the model for all those that came after—the Duomo in Florence, St. Peter's Basilica in Rome, and even the Rotunda in the US Capital.

Some people toss coins in the Trevi Fountain as a wish that someday they'll return to Rome, but Bob and I always visit the Pantheon to pay our respects. Hadrian built the temple to honor all the gods, since he didn't care which ones you worshiped as long as he was one of them. Fortunately, the Pantheon survived the Christian era because it was used as a church, which is what it still is today (mainly for weddings and special occasions).

Hadrian imported the 16 columns in front, each weighing 60 tons, from Egypt (down the Nile, across the Mediterranean on barges, and up the Tiber). He used Roman cement (still a mystery) to build the dome. The result is a building that still produces awe, not just for its age, but also for its elegant simplicity.


After a quiet lunch and a gelato at the shop where Michele and the girls had had cones when they were here, we fought out way through the afternoon crowds to Rome's two famous tourist sites--the Spanish Steps, which were almost obliterated by people sitting on them, and the Trevi Fountain, which was also overwhelmed by tourists.



The concierge at Gary's hotel says the strike may go on for some time, so who knows what will happen to my best laid plans not only for Rome, but also for Florence?

HOT DAY AT THE CAPITOLINE

Today, we had planned to visit the ancient Romans—where they lived (the Palantine Hill), where they conducted their business (the Forum), and where they entertained the multitudes (the Colosseum), but it was so hot, even in the morning, that we skipped all that and had a leisurely tour of the Capitoline Museum. In front of it in a square designed by Michelangelo, we stopped to admire a modern copy of an ancient equestrian statue of the Roman Emperor, Marcus Aurelius.

  

The original of this statue, which may be the only large bronze one ever to survive from ancient times, is housed in the Museum, where it is being painstakingly restored. The Emperor, who may be the closest ever to embody Plato's ideal of the philosopher king, sits bareback on a horse, his arm held out in a gesture of mercy and inclusion—an ancient version of an invitation to come into the “big tent” that we hear about so much about during our current elections. This statue, especially the mostly-restored original, is striking, and has been the model for countless others over the ages.

The Capitaline Museum offers a splendid view of the Forum, which is probably as close as we'll get to actually visiting it—or the Colosseum, for that matter. The heat and the lingering jet lag are taking a toll.

In the museum, we saw several sculptures, one of the most famous being the so-called Capitoline Venus, one of the best preserved ever from ancient Rome. It was dug up in 1670s, and thought to be a Roman copy of a lost 3rd- or 2nd-century BCE statue by the Greek sculptor, Praxiteles. It is one of the most copied statues in the world, and even spent three months of last year in the rotunda of the US Capitol, something that must have horrified Bush's Attorney General John Ashcroft.

The museum also has two Caravaggio paintings,

“The Fortune Teller” and “Saint John the Baptist.” He worked at the very end of the 16th Century, dying at the age of 39 in 1610, so he really can't be counted as part of the Italian Renaissance. He is most famous for taking the more stylized and formal paintings of the earlier period and bringing them home, sometimes graphically, by using not ideal models, such as those Michelangelo and Raphael envisioned, but rather everyday street people, especially boys with knowing smiles and dirty fingernails.

In his painting of Saint John, Caravaggio chose not to portray a saint-like man, but rather a real-life kid growing up in the wilderness. The effect on a contemporary viewer, aside from the shock of seeing a somewhat provocative nude, would be to say, “Look! Saints were real people, just like you and me.” The model was a boy named Cecco, Caravaggio's servant and possibly his pupil or even his lover, the same one who posed for “Amor Vincit,” which Bob, Karin and I saw last year in Berlin. Note how Caravaggio uses dark backgrounds and light to thrust the subjects of his paintings off the canvas at you.

After the museum, we returned to our own neck of the Roman woods for lunch and some much-needed down time. We thought about trying to get into St. Peter's at the end of the day, but the humid, 86 degree temperature made us decide to dine locally.

THE VATICAN & PROSECCO!

Art of the Italian Renaissance is the main focus of this trip, but there's so much to see that I (Steward) have to be really selective in what I report on.

Today was the Vatican, and we headed straight to the Sistine Chapel to see Michelangelo's frescoes before the room became too crowded. I won't include any of the iconic images such as God delivering the spark of life to Adam through his finger tip. Instead, I'll include just one picture of one of his twenty Ignudi, or nude male figures. No one is sure what they represent, if anything, but he probably thought of them as images of divine beauty, since man, after all, was made in the image of God. The twenty statue-like figures help frame certain other figures, and they all hold up a long, trailing blue cloth attached to medallions decorated with oak leaves and acorns which represent the family of Michelangelo's patron, Pope Julius II.

This image like most of the others on the ceiling were probably influenced by ancient Roman statues that were being dug up all over the city at that time. One of the most famous, the Laocoon, tells the story of the man who warned the Trojans not to take the wooden horse inside the city gates—or, as Vergil warned, “Don't trust Greeks bearing gifts.” [Rough translation] As punishment, Poseidon, who obviously sided with the Greeks, sent a couple sea serpents to do Laocoon in. I guess that his two sons just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

For Michelangelo, such statues were a revelation, something that had not been seen for well over a thousand years. Instead of two-dimensional saints gazing wistfully at heaven, here were real humans with muscles, blood pumping through their veins, actively engaged in life. Michelangelo carved such statues from cold marble, and, as his contemporary, Raphael, astutely observed, he “carved” them also into his frescoes.

We also spent time with Raphael's famous fresco, The School of Athens, which reconciles Classical philosophy with Christianity. If you look closely, Plato, the one in center stage on the left has the strangely familiar features of Leonardo da Vinci. Similarly, the philosopher leaning on a chunk of marble looks like none other than Michelangelo. Finally, off to the right looking straight at us is Raphael himself. So, the three the greatest artists of the Renaissance appear in one of its greatest works of art.

By noon, the museum was wall-to-wall people, so we ducked out to a quiet, out-of-the-way restaurant for a leisurely lunch accompanied by two bottles of Prosecco!

We had planned then to visit St. Peter's, but the thick line waiting to get in snaked over half way around the piazza. That was enough to convince us to take a cab home for a nap, but first, we snapped a few photos of Karin and Gary to forward to Pope Benny and friends.

IF IT'S TUESDAY, MUST BE ROME!

Not a good day. At 4:00 am, our closest friend of forty years, Harvey Chernoff, who had lived in Brookline, MA, died. Actually, it was a relief for him and everyone who loved him, since he'd been living in a vegetative state for several years, but still . . .

Our trip began at 4:30 am when our good neighbor, Margaret Brucato, who is an early riser anyway, picked us up for the trip to the airport. She then picked up our friend Gary and about an hour later deposited us all at the airport.

The trip with a layover in Atlanta went smoothly, but when it comes to air travel these days, smooth flight is an oxymoron. It was a relief finally to arrive in Rome. Our cab dropped us off at the flat we've rented for almost a week (Gary, who had joined the trip later, ended up at a nearby hotel). We settled in and headed out to Rome's main train station to check our tickets for our trip Monday to Florence, and then we walked what seemed like a dozen miles to buy tickets for Sunday to Domus Romanae, a popular 3-D tour of an ancient Roman villa.

Found it, but no: We couldn't buy tickets there. We had to go to a bookstore five or six blocks away. Who knew? When we arrived there, sore of foot, the ticket agent said: No, we don't sell tours in English anymore. Guess we'll never know how our ancestors lived. We looked then for Bus 87 back to our flat, but couldn't find it. We did find a cab, however, and Bob practiced his Italian with the driver.

The one and only highlight of our trek was a quick stop at San Pietro in Vincoli Church to see Moses, one of Michelangelo's last sculptures. It was spectacular including his two horns. A misreading of a Biblical passage had led the great man into thinking that horns, not rays of light, had emanated from the prophet's head.

About 6:30, our Tucson next-door neighbor arrived from Denver, and we all went out to a local restaurant. Great pasta, great wine, great time.

ROME – FLORENCE – VENICE and the RUBY PRINCESSS

     We are off yet again to Italy...second visit this year! But it will be a very different trip from our spring jaunt. That was a cruise over and a week in Sorrento with our friend, Gary. This time we'll be doing lots of museums and major sights in Rome, Florence and Venice.

     This trip will again include Gary, but our friend Karin...who went with us to Germany/Russia last year...will also join us. We will fly over to Rome and stay for 6 nights. Then we'll take a train to Florence for a 5 night stay before taking the train to Venice. After three nights in Venice, Karin will fly home [ :-(  and Gary will join us on the Ruby Princess for a 19-night cruise back to Fort Lauderdale and a flight from there to Tucson.