Differences - and the beauty of bottomless iced tea

(Finally - got the other pix loaded!)
Here, on my last day in Rome, I find myself far from anxious to return, and before I explain myself let me clarify... I'd be happy to return to a quieter place in Italy, but probably not Rome unless the siren call of the Sistine beckons again.

Rome is harsher than Paris in the way that New York is harsher than LA. The traffic is ceaseless: a green light on the crosswalk is an invitation to sprint because the opposing red light is merely a suggestion. Scooters abound, zipping in and out with a frightening confidence that reminds me of race car drivers who delight in squeezing through a tight spot with a scant inch to spare.

To quote my friend, Bradley, who was here in January, Rome is dirty. They are struggling with horrendous pollution problems that make me grateful that California is tough on emissions. The buildings are grimy, and the trash bins on every corner are overflowing. We went to the Forum and Colosseum yesterday, and were frankly shocked to see garbage amongst the ruins, crusted cigarette butts in the walkways, and evidence that the area was occasionally a crash pad (and frequently a urinal) for the homeless. Perhaps it is because they have so much here - countless structures dating back to the first century of Christianity, more than a handful from the centuries before - that they can be cavalier about what they have. Maybe they are over it, maybe it has been here so long they think it will still be here longer. In California it seems that we seldom revere anything before it hits the 100 year mark, and if it makes it that far, we then put it on a nostalgic pedestal and create laws to protect it. I'm guessing that if we owned the Forum it would now be hermetically sealed in a theme park bio-dome with an exorbitant entrance fee. On second thought, that would be a different kind of tragedy.

I also have to remember that I have the eyes of a tourist, and that if I were to visit LA the way I am visiting Rome, I would likely find myself equally appalled at the carnival of aggressive parasites at every attraction, hawking cheap trinkets and expensive bottled water.

One of the great things about being away from home is garnering a new appreciation for what you take for granted. After countless meals of pasta and pizza, accompanied by $2 bottles of water or $5 cans of Coke, we decided that a Hard Rock Cafe burger was needed. The Hard Rock, like Starbucks and McDonald's, is hardly the best of its genre, but the consistency of product across the world is predictable and comforting. They even had a ceiling of painted angels, playing rock instruments. We had big, juicy burgers with fries and rings. And I had iced tea... an unlimited supply. Bella!

A Bernini Day

It has been a Bernini day. We went to the Borghese Gallery, where several of Bernini's greatest works of sculpture reside. No pictures allowed, and no sneaking either - they make you check all of your bags save perhaps a wallet before they let you in. http://www.galleriaborghese.it/borghese/en/edefault.htm

Where Michelangelo epitomized the height of the Renaissance (along with Leonardo and others immortalized by the Ninja Turtles), Bernini is the father of Baroque. He arrived on the scene about 100 years after Michelangelo, equally as competent in sculpture and architecture, and changed the course of art in Italy. He was a child prodigy - the Getty has a marble sculpture he made at about 16 years old, if memory serves. Where Michelangelo is all powerful anatomy, Bernini is anatomy in emotion and action - every viewpoint has something to say, something that grabs your attention and takes your breath away. He truly makes marble look like skin, or cloth, or animal pelt, or tree bark. His sculpture of Apollo and Daphne has Daphne turning into a tree as she tries to flee Apollo, leaves sprouting from her fingertips. The audio guide told us that they discovered that those delicate marble leaves ring like crystal when struck. I'd like to know who had the nerve to strike it!

After feasting on the Borghese, we stopped by the church of Santa Maria della Vittoria, home to another of Bernini's masterpieces, St. Theresa in Ecstacy. The church is a small, unassuming building on a crowded corner, with the feel of a local parish inside. The interior could give St. Peter's a run for the money in terms of opulence. Fortunately, pictures were allowed (most of these were exposures of two seconds or more).

"I dono whata" and 320 more steps

July 22

When in Rome, eat gelato. Rome has been as hot and steamy as Paris. The Italians slow down and close up shop for siesta hour, and we are finding that to be a good practice also. Upon waking, a cool snack is in order, and what better than gelato, in all its different versions.

Yesterday, we followed a guide through the Vatican Museum for a bit - a lovely older lady who spoke English with a delightful Italian lilt that added consonants to the "enda ofa every worda." She had a great sense of humor too, walking the fine line of truth and history, without making anyone uncomfortable. She pointed out that the demon in the lower right corner of the Sistine's Last Judgement was a painted likeness of Biagio da Cesena, the Vatican Master of Ceremonies. Da Cesena critcized Michelangelo the most for his nudes, saying that "it is not a work for the chapel of a pope, but for a tavern." Michelangelo painted da Cesena as Minos, the judge of the damned, complete with a serpent winding about his body and, in the playful words of our guide, "doinga I dono whata" (biting him in the groin). Even the pope rebuffed da Cesena when he complained, saying that if he had been painted in Purgatory he (the pope) could at least pray for his soul, but as he was painted in Hell he was doomed to stay there. And what a Hell it is.

Today's pix are of St. Peter's Basilica, and yes, we climbed its 320 steps to the cuppola (just under the lantern). St. Peter's is immense beyond comprehension - perfectly overwhelming for the awestruck pilgrims and tourists.

La Bella Sistina

July 21

I'm struggling to say something meaningful about the Sistine Chapel. I have waited a very long time for the opportunity to see it, plotting my vacations, and saving my pennies - literally - the funds for this side trip to Rome came from a jar into which I have been throwing my change for the last eight years.

As a student, I have drawn Michelangelo's Creation of Adam, I have performed informative speeches about the restoration campaign on the ceiling, and I've written essays comparing the Last Judgement to Dante's Inferno (which Michelangelo could recite by heart). I even learned to use Adobe Illustrator by overdrawing Adam. I've lost count of the books about the Chapel that I own. So you get the picture... I really wanted this.

I managed to spend some 20 minutes craning my neck in awe. The photo is one that I snuck with the camera aimed up from the crook of my arm, set to autofocus with a healthy dose of hope and fingers mentally crossed - photography is forbidden, but this time I disobeyed. It came out so well that I'm chalking it up to Michelangelo's blessing.

It was everything I could have ever imagined. The guide said they called him Il Divino Michelangelo - Michelangelo the Divine. I second that.

Trompe l'oeil

July 20
Trompe l'oeil means "to fool the eye" - it is the term given to any realistic illusion in art. How's this for realistic... it's not a dead tree, it's a bronze sculpture, found in the garden of the Tuileries. I love this kind of art!

130 steps down, 83 up - Momento Mori

July 19

We students went to the catacombs - where there was blissfully chilly respite from Paris' heat and humidity awaiting us at the bottom of the stairs.

A sign inside proclaims that we have entered the "empire of the dead." The catacombs are a symbiotic relationship of old quarry tunnels and the need to reclaim the land taken up by centuries of burials in the cemeteries (cremation is only now becoming acceptable in France). Each cemetary that was moved bears its own sign, detailing the location and dates of the remains in that section - along with a small pedestal for flowers and such. The exhumed bones are stacked artfully around the signs - mostly the large bones of the arms and legs - ends out, with patterns of skulls grinning between. In art, we call a skull a "momento mori" - something to remind you of death (and to prompt you to take care of your spiritual life while you can). Personally, it reminds me to make sure I fully live this precious life.

And speaking of lives... my dear friends Brendan and Bree welcomed their son on Wednesday - so here's to Michael Andrew Beatty - welcome, young man!

White Guy #3

This time he was in Montmartre, close to the artist's square where you can get your portrait sketched. My friend Chris got a snap of him in May of this year - since then some one has added the gold mohawk and shorts. Even the graffiti evolves!

Gastronomique

July 16

Last night Lynda, Paul, Paul's folks and I took Mum and Dad to dinner to celebrate Mum's birthday. We went to a well recommended hotel restaurant that was rather swanky for these peasant parts. The food was sublime - not a bad bite anywhere to be found, and beautiful presentation too. The photos are a couple of examples of the fare (with a nod to Brendan and Bree, who photograph most of their great meals). Bon Appetite!

Press Gang

July 15

My step-sis and her hubby, Lynda and Paul, also own a house in France, just up the street from my folks' house... The first picture is of Lynda and me. The second is of her house. The third is me painting in her house - all visitors are press-ganged into the remodeling project if they sit still long enough! I suppose any kind of painting can be art!

Bastille Day - Part Deux

July 14 - evening

We went to the local village fireworks show on the evening of Bastille Day - my brother-in-law reckons there were close to 20,000 people there - and this was a relatively small village show. The fireworks started at 11pm (daylight lasts a long time here). They were choreographed to music, and were good enough to rival Disneyland. One thing to note... both the fireworks and the parking were free. Magnifique!

Bastille Day

Friday 14 July

Today, I will celebrate Bastille Day (France's equivalent of our Independence day) in St. Yrieix, the closest "big village" to the tiny hamlet, Bourniex, where my parents live. This morning my Mum and I went to the village market for picnic goodies for tonight's fireworks and festivities. The first picture is the village church. The second is the stall of one of the cheese vendors... check out the little stuffed goats next to the chevre (goat cheese). Yum!

Bon fete, mes amis!

Angels in Chains and the Chapel of Kings

July 13

Saint Chapelle is perhaps one of the lesser known churches in Paris - it's small, so it hardly competes with the physical presence of Notre Dame and Sacre Coeur, nor with the popularity of St. Sulpice since the Da Vinci Code hit the bestseller lists. However, for exquisite stained glass, it can't be beat - and yes, I took pictures to share (rather than merely teasing you with the architecture). It is part of a small palace on the same island as Notre Dame which was used almost exclusively to serve royalty - and it shows. The stained glass is literally breathtaking - my friend Diana, a stained glass afficionado, was speechless as she walked into the chapel yesterday.

Of course, I also perused the outside, looking for interesting architecture and gargoyles. It looks like the keepers are warming up to some restoration work, as there are piles of stones and stacks of column elements behind the fence that surrounds the chapel. There was also the angel, hand in blessing, feet on an upside down turtle (whose meaning confounds me), held delicately balanced in place by straps and cables. His demeanor seemed patient to me - probably a good thing as restorations seem to take a very long time.

Chartres - and 300 more steps

July 12

A few fellow students and I decided to head to Chartres yesterday after life drawing class. According to the guide books, Chartres is one of the most pure versions of Gothic church architecture still standing, as the building campaign for the exterior structure was completed in about 60 years - some serious motoring when you consider the lack of power tools.

The structure is beautiful, with soaring ribbed vaults. This is usually my favorite part of church architecture as I like the repeating pattern and line in the columns and ribs. And then there is the stained glass, which I soon find overwhelming. I know that the glass had its reasons beyond beauty and glory to God - it was the cartoon book of Bible stories for the illiterate. But it is so detailed, so small, and so very high up - how did the people read it without binoculars? Or a guide book?! It turns out that there were several perfect holes in the stained glass that made beams of light across the church - now these I could understand!

There was an opportunity to climb the north tower, so several of us did. One thing to note... the English charge you to see their big churches, with the pain of climbing the towers and domes being optional once you are in. The French let you into their churches for free, but they charge you to climb - it seems quite rude to make you pay for the pain! The views were, of course, breathtaking - you could see the famous flying buttresses and could get quite friendly with a gargoyle or two.

Apologies for the blur in the interior pictures - these were long handheld exposures. Enjoy!

White Guy #2

July 12

This time he's riding a magic carpet... on the shutters of a carpet shop!

The Master

Tuesday 11 July

Some people call Michelangelo the Master, and most of the time I agree with that. But when I stand in front of a Rodin sculpture I waver. Rodin, too, revered Michelangelo, and you can see the homage in several works. Rodin understood what Michelangelo was trying to say and took it a step further, crashing through boundaries and challenging the establishment of his time - just like Michelangelo.

The pix today are a couple of Rodin's works from a visit to the Musee Rodin. One is a small version of the Three Shades. These guys were made for the top of the Gates of Hell. It is actually the same figure repeated three times - rather clever of Rodin to give us several views of the same thing all at once, as it certainly punches up the impact.

The second is La Defense, a work that is not as widely known, but is very much one of my favorites. The female figure is the winged French warrior woman, sometimes known as Victory, other times refered to as Bellona. At her feet is a dying soldier, giving the piece a distinct reference to a Pieta. But it is Bellona that captivates - Rodin put such emotion into her pose with arms outstretched, hands fisted, one wing curling back. She is angry, shouting, triumphant, and terrifying all in one moment. Mastery indeed.

Just a few pictures

Back in Paris again... here are a few pictures from the trip to London. Tomorrow we are off to Chartres Cathedral - I hope they let us take pix inside there (the churches in London didn't)

Never as big as it seems

Yesterday we took in the British National Gallery. So many works that I have seen over the years in art history books, by the glitterati of the art world - Holbein, Titian (loads of them), Rubens, Rembrandt, Botticelli, Raphael, Leonardo da Vinci, Michelangelo, Caravaggio, Van Eyck, and Vermeer. Here's a link to the gallery's website if you want to go for a virtual wander around the works:
http://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/

Raphael's 'Madonna of the Pinks' was there. This was one the Getty tried to buy a couple of years ago (for about $50 mil if memory serves) but they were outbid by a British law that allows British institutions to fundraise to match the selling price. She isn't pink, as the title would indicate - the Christ child is holding pinks, which are small flowers like miniature carnations. The painting is less than 12 inches on any side - tiny. For $50 mil. Yeah.

The other painting that surprised me was Van Eyck's 'Arnolfini Wedding Portrait,' which they now seem to think wasn't a wedding portrait at all. Like the Mona Lisa, it is far smaller than my mind had imagined it from the history books - barely two feet tall. But unlike Miss Mona, it delivers well - and we could get our noses within a foot of it. The details of the fabrics are sublime - velvet, tapestry, lace, fur. The dude had serious chops.

In a switch up of size impressions, they were showing the Leonardo drawing of The Virgin and St. Anne, with Jesus and John the Baptist. You get used to drawings being the size of a decent sketchbook. This one is almost as tall as me. http://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/cgi-bin/WebObjects.dll/CollectionPublisher.woa/wa/work?workNumber=ng6337

Awesome. (sorry Larry!)

530 Steps and the Killer Queen

We climbed St. Paul's Cathedral yesterday - 530 steps to the lantern, fortunately in three stages so we could catch our breath and stretch our calves. London seems to be booming with construction as there were cranes everywhere on all horizons - picture to follow at some point - though not of the inside of the cathedral as this was forbidden :-(

I managed to seriously partake of the food of my childhood yesterday - meals of fish 'n' chips with Guinness, bangers and mash, and treacle pudding and custard for a finale. I might even have converted Alexis on the treacle pud (wicked, evil laughter here).

We finished the evening at the theatre again, with the sell-out show the critics love to hate, We Will Rock You (UK version!). A delightfully silly musical, with over-the-top wigs and a hokey storyline - but all of the Queen music played live by a fantastic band. We were, indeed, the Champions!

Mind the Gap!

Friday July 7th - London

One of the nice things about the CSUCI program is that it leaves us the weekends to travel. So off to London for Alexis (a fellow student and pal) and me for this, the first weekend of the trip. The internet cafe will not allow me to upload pictures to go with the posts, but I promise to add them when I get back my own computer and the school's wifi. Technology is a wonderful thing - especially when it actually cooperates.

From the musty, mechanical, vaguely electrical smell of the Tube to the waft of a proper English breakfast eminating from our B&B kitchen this morning, it smells like home. It will undoubtedly turn into a food pilgrimage for me: proper cups of tea, even in Starbucks (which incidentally are kitted out exactly the same as in CA); sausage rolls; little cups of outrageously expensive ice cream at the theatre (Chicago last night, Avenue Q tonight if the half price ticket booth obliges). I must find fish and chips today.

Alexis is navigating the tube well already - that it is not in French has added to her comfort level, despite the fact that they talk funny and fast here. She thinks all the Mind the Gap announcements, signs and souvenirs are hysterical. We've even found it printed on underwear. Quite brilliant, that!

The Faces of Versailles

Wednesday July 5 - Versailles

Versailles is incomprehensibly huge. Even standing in front of the building, it's hard to wrap your mind around the size of the estate - it apparently stretches some eight miles. When my friend, Linda, said that it took her a couple of hours to walk the gardens I thought she was dawdling - now I understand that she was probably motoring at a decent clip.

Louis XIV's reign was long, but it still seems like it would never be enough time to build something like this. The small opera house inside took two years alone to construct. Much of the art is pure
propaganda, designed to stress the absolute rule of the monarchy, and the supreme power of France at the time. There is so much gilt, marble, and ornamentation that it soon becomes overwhelming. The face in the picture is one of many I found in the garden's endless sculpture. It pretty much expresses how I felt at the end of the chateau tour!

Paris wore many faces too, last night. In case you don't follow soccer (and I usually don't) France advanced to the finals of the World Cup. The streets were a delirious party of fire eaters, flags,
fireworks, and frenetic celebration. It didn't quiet down until the sun came up. I wonder what the traditional French cure is for hangovers!

The White Guy

Paris has some quite interesting grafitti. There's a lot that looks pretty much like the stuff in LA (or, I imagine, New York) - the big graphic tagger art, obviously done on the quick with spray cans. But then there is the White Guy, as we have dubbed him. So far, we've seen him four times, the attached picture being the first. He's mostly around the neighborhood of our school, but we have found one far afield.

I wonder what his story is - or more so, I wonder about the artist that created him. But then, perhaps, the wonder is good. I hope to find more.

Happy Independence Day!

The Red Door

3rd July 2006 (posted late due to technical difficulties!)

Paris is full of interesting doors. Some newly painted, others showing thick evidence of many changes of color. Door handles in the middle, door handles to one side. With or without a big brass knocker - if with, then perhaps ornamental, animal, even ferocious. I've always thought that it would be wonderful to have a red door. I got my wish.

The door to our apartment is red. The door to the courtyard that accesses it (see photo) is also red. The back door to a lovely little boulangerie shares the couryard, filling the space with melt-in-your-mouth aroma. It is a cruel joke that for today, Monday, our first full, non jet-laggy day of vacation, the bakery is closed. It's a good thing I sampled their wares yesterday!