Buon Giorno,
I woke up early this morning--and I'm happy to report I've been sleeping at last--to what I thought was thunder. Then came the sound of pouring rain. I opened a window so I could hear it. I wasn't quite ready to get up, so I lay in bed all snug listing to the rain fall. It continued to fall although more gently as I had my breakfast.
By the time I was ready to go out, it had cleared and warmed up. Ahh. The air was so fresh and clean. This didn't last long what with the motorcycles and cigarettes and all.
Two things I particularly wanted to see are within easy walking distance. Both were closed yesterday, a fact of which my guide book did not inform me. Fortunately, I found out before making futile trips.
My first stop was the Diocesan Museum at Donnaregina. This may sound dull. It's not! The former convent has a magnificent painted church, with polychrome marble facings. Apart from the frescos and paintings in the chapels, there's an art gallery with everything from Late Medieval to Baroque. I had the place all to myself. I wanted to take a zillion pictures, but photography is forbidden. Google it, and maybe you'll get a look.
From there I walked on to visit Naples's cathedral or Duomo dedicated to San Gennaro. Devotion to the saint remains strong among the population. Supposedly the blood contained in the relic liquifies each year to assure people he is going to protect them. But not from motorcycles, evidently. It's a beautiful church, and I did get to take pictures. Behind the altar is a Virgin Enthroned strongly reminiscent of Bernini.
I snooted around a so-called pedestrianized street. It was very touristy and also infested with motorcycles and vans. Enough of that!
I made my way to the National Archeological Museum of Naples--only slightly distracted by the market I came upon in the Piazza Cavour. Considered the world's greatest museum of antiquities it's justly famous and popular. I had to wait in line about forty-five minutes to get in. Here's the drill: People show up and see the line. They hope that it's some tour group thing and check the entrance. Nope. It's the line for tickets with addicts having to have that one last cigarette before entry.
Wow! The collection is amazing. Now I happen to like antiquities, and I have seen a LOT of them, but I was still impressed beyond measure by the exhibits.
Let's begin with the statuary all of which is in remarkable condition. Either they were found intact or have been expertly restored, i.e. no missing noses or (ahem) male parts. Some were familiar, but I came upon a few I had not seen even photos of that were incredible. I was so taken with a sculpture group of a man capturing a bull surrounded by children and nymphs that I dropped my ticket and had to go back to pick it up.
I needed that ticket because I had a timed entrance to a special exhibition of artifacts from Magna Graecia as the Greeks colonized extensively in the Campania and Bay of Naples. The vases, paintings, figurines, etc. were fascinating and all in tip top condition. We visitors had to cover our shoes with paper footies because we were walking on actual mosaics.
I'm going to Pompeii, but I got a preview because the archeologists moved the best of the Fourth Style Roman paintings to the museum. Fourth Style is meant to mimic encaustic easel paintings for those who needed to keep up with the Metelli next door. Other goodies from Pompeii include some fabulous mosaics.
Well, I could go on and on, but I get tired, so I've come home to apero. I really like that Greco Tufo as late afternoon drink, and it goes well with snacks. I hard cooked some eggs this morning, so I'm having one with the usual crostini and prosciutto crudo.
Yeah, but, Pil. What about the rest of Naples's culinary offerings? You're in the pizza capital of the entire galaxy for instance? What about the pastries. Huh? Huh?
I'm going to be here for a while, and I intend to eat pizza and try a pastry or two. But tonight we're having pasta, garlic, parmesan, and oil for dinner. Before I used it last time, I tasted the olive oil straight. It was slightly bitter, and it made me cough, which is a good sign. I don't buy mass produced oil by the well known companies, and I'm willing to pay a little more. It usually works out for me. I'm drinking Lacyrma Christi del Vesuvio with this as I like white wine with garlicky dishes and olive oil. And for a wonder I got the Aglio et olio to work this time!
Ciao
Wednesday, October 16, 2019
Tuesday, October 15, 2019
Getting to Know Naples
Buon Giorno,
My friends will hardly recognize me when I get back. I'll have become such a daredevil marching insouciantly into on coming traffic. But such are the ways of a Neapolitan pedestrian. The vehicles and their drivers (and about half of them are motorcycles) aren't actively trying to kill us. They simply don't want to stop at all and only grudgingly slow down in order to miss the target. Now I prefer to have the cover of a traffic light or at least a crosswalk. Makes no difference, friends. The cars won't stop, but to be fair I've seen plenty of folks defy their own red lights and run out into the traffic.
I have two tactics that I employ with success. One I try to cross in a crowd reasoning that they can't get us all. Two I try to wait until there's a reasonable gap where I can step out and the driver can see me and pretend to slow down before contact is made.
I had some settling in business to take care of. I walked back to the train station taking a longer but easier route. I needed a map of the city, more cash, and a real grocery store. There's Tourist Information Desk at the front of the station. I got a map--which proved to be singularly useless. I may have to buy one that works. There are four sides to Piazza Garibaldi. I found my bank on the fourth side I looked. Then I went to the big grocery store and got what I wanted. But I had to cart it back to my apartment. Oof.
Said apartment has elaborate security arrangements, but that means it's complex getting in and out. It usually takes me numerous tries.
Having dumped off my stuff, I thought it would do me good to get a glimpse of the Med. I'd already had more than a glimpse of Vesuvius. You can hardly miss the mountain looming over the countryside. I found the metro station and bought a ticket to a stop called Toledo. Naples used to be ruled by the Spanish, so I'm guessing that's the reason.
I fetched up in a nice pedestrianized street and I walked, and walked, and walked. Naples reminds me strongly of Nice, which should come as no surprise given Nice's Italian background and the fact that both are Mediterranean cities. I walked down to the sea looked around and walked back again. I licked a few windows and bought something--but you'll have to wait for it. It was warm and the light became glaring. I got tired walking and tired being in crowds--just citied out.
Since I can't make walking up and down streets fascinating, let's have some HISTORY! Naples is a Greek foundation--the new city--Neapolis built next to a colony called Parthenope (dedicated to Athena?) The Greeks were attracted to the expansive bay and the fertile hinterland and also possibly by the geological activity because it would have had religious significance. The area became known to the Romans as Magna Grecia.
Like the rest of the peninsula, it was conquered by the Romans and the Bay of Naples became The Place for filthy rich patricians to build luxurious villas with natural geo thermic spas. I'll be talking more about the history when I tackle Naples's two iconic foodstuffs--pizza and pasta.
In the meantime apero is crostini with a dried beef product called Bresaola della Valtellina. This sounds dull. It's not. To accompany we have a glass of Greco di Tufo, grown in volcanic tufa soil and especially recommended as an aperitivo with cold cuts. It has notes of stone fruit and citrus, and I can actually taste them!
For dinner, I'm reverting to the bucatini but serving it with the classic Neapolitan tomato sauce pomodoro, and many variations on this theme exist in Naples. I added some garlic powder brought from home to the jarred sauce and some parmesano-reggiano cheese. Neapolitans took devotedly to the tomato--eventually. Although the fruit had been introduced by the Spanish in the sixteenth century, it wasn't popular in the Campania until the late eighteenth. To drink I have a local red called Aglianico. Ummm. Perfect with pasta. I'm splashing out a bit with wine this time and spending more than usual, but really not that much.
Ciao
My friends will hardly recognize me when I get back. I'll have become such a daredevil marching insouciantly into on coming traffic. But such are the ways of a Neapolitan pedestrian. The vehicles and their drivers (and about half of them are motorcycles) aren't actively trying to kill us. They simply don't want to stop at all and only grudgingly slow down in order to miss the target. Now I prefer to have the cover of a traffic light or at least a crosswalk. Makes no difference, friends. The cars won't stop, but to be fair I've seen plenty of folks defy their own red lights and run out into the traffic.
I have two tactics that I employ with success. One I try to cross in a crowd reasoning that they can't get us all. Two I try to wait until there's a reasonable gap where I can step out and the driver can see me and pretend to slow down before contact is made.
I had some settling in business to take care of. I walked back to the train station taking a longer but easier route. I needed a map of the city, more cash, and a real grocery store. There's Tourist Information Desk at the front of the station. I got a map--which proved to be singularly useless. I may have to buy one that works. There are four sides to Piazza Garibaldi. I found my bank on the fourth side I looked. Then I went to the big grocery store and got what I wanted. But I had to cart it back to my apartment. Oof.
Said apartment has elaborate security arrangements, but that means it's complex getting in and out. It usually takes me numerous tries.
Having dumped off my stuff, I thought it would do me good to get a glimpse of the Med. I'd already had more than a glimpse of Vesuvius. You can hardly miss the mountain looming over the countryside. I found the metro station and bought a ticket to a stop called Toledo. Naples used to be ruled by the Spanish, so I'm guessing that's the reason.
I fetched up in a nice pedestrianized street and I walked, and walked, and walked. Naples reminds me strongly of Nice, which should come as no surprise given Nice's Italian background and the fact that both are Mediterranean cities. I walked down to the sea looked around and walked back again. I licked a few windows and bought something--but you'll have to wait for it. It was warm and the light became glaring. I got tired walking and tired being in crowds--just citied out.
Since I can't make walking up and down streets fascinating, let's have some HISTORY! Naples is a Greek foundation--the new city--Neapolis built next to a colony called Parthenope (dedicated to Athena?) The Greeks were attracted to the expansive bay and the fertile hinterland and also possibly by the geological activity because it would have had religious significance. The area became known to the Romans as Magna Grecia.
Like the rest of the peninsula, it was conquered by the Romans and the Bay of Naples became The Place for filthy rich patricians to build luxurious villas with natural geo thermic spas. I'll be talking more about the history when I tackle Naples's two iconic foodstuffs--pizza and pasta.
In the meantime apero is crostini with a dried beef product called Bresaola della Valtellina. This sounds dull. It's not. To accompany we have a glass of Greco di Tufo, grown in volcanic tufa soil and especially recommended as an aperitivo with cold cuts. It has notes of stone fruit and citrus, and I can actually taste them!
For dinner, I'm reverting to the bucatini but serving it with the classic Neapolitan tomato sauce pomodoro, and many variations on this theme exist in Naples. I added some garlic powder brought from home to the jarred sauce and some parmesano-reggiano cheese. Neapolitans took devotedly to the tomato--eventually. Although the fruit had been introduced by the Spanish in the sixteenth century, it wasn't popular in the Campania until the late eighteenth. To drink I have a local red called Aglianico. Ummm. Perfect with pasta. I'm splashing out a bit with wine this time and spending more than usual, but really not that much.
Ciao
Monday, October 14, 2019
Roma a Napoli
Buon Giorno!
Well. I made it. It was a fairly smooth trip, and I had a lot of help and suffered one (small) con job.
Before I begin relating my day, let me take a refreshing sip of Lacryima Christi.
Uh, Pil. That means "Tears of Christ." Just where did you get this from, and why are you drinking such a divine substance?
I got it from the grocery store, and it's the name of a local wine. Frankly I feel a bit blasphemous drinking it, but the Italians like giving irreverent or even vulgar names to their food and drink. The white wine is nice though. I paid more than I usually do for wine, because I wanted to try it.
My problem this morning was that the escalators and elevators at my metro stop were out of service. When I arrived it was not great, but it's easier for me carrying my bags upstairs because if I fall it's upward, there was only one flight of stairs. Going down is much harder for me, and there are two flights. A fellow American tourist took pity on my struggles and took my heavier bag down. Then it was a smooth trip to Termini, I got my ticket and waited for my platform to be announced.
This is when I fell for the con job. A woman came up to me and asked what I needed, and I explained. I thought she was an employee of the railroad doing customer service. She did indeed find out about the platform and showed me where it was. Then she demanded a five euro tip. I gave it to her, as an education expense for myself and to warn other travelers to beware what help you take. But the truth is a lot of nice folks helped me out today out of the goodness of their hearts, so let's not be too cynical.
I'm a little old lady, and sometimes hefting bags onto or off trains or up into the overhead bins can be difficult. People volunteered to lift and load, and my train seat mate sought out help for me at the end of the journey to get my suitcase down.
I had my google maps directions to my apartment. The directions made no sense to me until I actually was there and then I understood them. The directions brought me to my destination, but then I was puzzled. Hotel? Where's the sign and entrance. I wandered. I looked and asked. Finally, I found someone who knew what I was talking about. I went back and found the name of the hotel in tiny hand written blue ink. I rang the bell and was admitted.
I have a Really Nice Apartment. I'm sitting in my dinning room having apero of crostini with feta and the wine. I'm ditching the bucatini for now for capetellini which cooks a lot quicker. I got some olive oil and I have some parmesan. Doesn't that sound nice?
Ciao
Well. I made it. It was a fairly smooth trip, and I had a lot of help and suffered one (small) con job.
Before I begin relating my day, let me take a refreshing sip of Lacryima Christi.
Uh, Pil. That means "Tears of Christ." Just where did you get this from, and why are you drinking such a divine substance?
I got it from the grocery store, and it's the name of a local wine. Frankly I feel a bit blasphemous drinking it, but the Italians like giving irreverent or even vulgar names to their food and drink. The white wine is nice though. I paid more than I usually do for wine, because I wanted to try it.
My problem this morning was that the escalators and elevators at my metro stop were out of service. When I arrived it was not great, but it's easier for me carrying my bags upstairs because if I fall it's upward, there was only one flight of stairs. Going down is much harder for me, and there are two flights. A fellow American tourist took pity on my struggles and took my heavier bag down. Then it was a smooth trip to Termini, I got my ticket and waited for my platform to be announced.
This is when I fell for the con job. A woman came up to me and asked what I needed, and I explained. I thought she was an employee of the railroad doing customer service. She did indeed find out about the platform and showed me where it was. Then she demanded a five euro tip. I gave it to her, as an education expense for myself and to warn other travelers to beware what help you take. But the truth is a lot of nice folks helped me out today out of the goodness of their hearts, so let's not be too cynical.
I'm a little old lady, and sometimes hefting bags onto or off trains or up into the overhead bins can be difficult. People volunteered to lift and load, and my train seat mate sought out help for me at the end of the journey to get my suitcase down.
I had my google maps directions to my apartment. The directions made no sense to me until I actually was there and then I understood them. The directions brought me to my destination, but then I was puzzled. Hotel? Where's the sign and entrance. I wandered. I looked and asked. Finally, I found someone who knew what I was talking about. I went back and found the name of the hotel in tiny hand written blue ink. I rang the bell and was admitted.
I have a Really Nice Apartment. I'm sitting in my dinning room having apero of crostini with feta and the wine. I'm ditching the bucatini for now for capetellini which cooks a lot quicker. I got some olive oil and I have some parmesan. Doesn't that sound nice?
Ciao
Sunday, October 13, 2019
Sunday in Rome
Buon Giorno,
I came back early due to fatigue and the desire to see a bicycle race, but I guess the site isn't authorized for this region. I can see it when I get back. Also my room hasn't been done yet. Sunday is the day they clean and reorganize the kitchens on each floor. I did take off my contacts, and obviously I grabbed my computer.
Also I was wrong about no beggars on the Metro. I encountered one today probably because it's Sunday. A disheveled woman toting a baby entered the carriage pleading in a loud voice. Begging must pay or people would do it, but no one in our carriage gave her anything but dirty looks.
Since I'm here, I needed some supplies, so I took a trip to the grocery store. European laws have relaxed recently. Sunday openings except for a few businesses used to be forbidden. Now a lot of stores are open, and groceries are usually open half of the day. This made it easier for me as I did not have to go scrounging for fast food. I love foreign grocery stores. I might not buy much, but I sure do look at the goodies on offer.
I can have the rest of the Est Est Est for apero and dinner wine. Breaking the bucatini in half worked for me, so I'll do that again.
I strolled out to the Metro and took it out to San Giovanni. St. John Lateran, not St. Peter's, is the Cathedral of Rome, and it's a Very Impressive Church. I visited it last time, and I wanted to see it again. This being Sunday, a service was in progress, but one could still visit. We had to go through security though.
I had another church in mind, too, so I went back to Termini to catch a bus.
You like living dangerously, Pil.
Maybe. But none of the information sites I looked at mentioned this particular line doesn't run on Sundays. I had some options. I decided first to figure out where to get my ticket tomorrow and what information I could find as to train times. I did this. Trains are frequent, and apparently there's a senior discount that I can take.
Then I wandered around Termini Station, which like many train stations is chaotic, and the existence of a big shopping center merely adds to the atmosphere of hurry and distraction. You can get food and drink for your journey, of course, but it seems that travelers may be impulsive because an awful lot of high end brands want to sell you something to take along.
I shamelessly waltzed into a perfume shop attracted by the name Capri, which is the name of an island the in the Bay of Naples. A quick squirt later and I emerged smelling of fresh lemon. Very nice indeed. I'm not going to pay the asking price to smell that way though.
I also snooted around Sephora and a couple of other stores then made my way to the Metro and home. I'll take things up again once I can get into my room.
And here I am with my apero. The Est times three is very nice with prosciutto crudo. I don't eat pork at home because I like pigs as animals as well as meat. The EU treats its food sources better than we do because of their long-tested traditions of production.
Dinner tonight is bucatini halves Bolognese. "Real"sugo de Bologna is rich, slow cooked, meat heavy, fatty, and very, very involved. I pulled this off the grocery store shelf, so not authentico. But our taste buds should be the judge.
So here's judging. This is an industrialized mass produced product. That doesn't mean it's bad. I like it just fine. Just don't expect what Nonna used to make. And Est times 3 is not the optimal wine to have with it. Try a slightly sweet, slightly sparkling Lambrusco. Really.
Ciao
I came back early due to fatigue and the desire to see a bicycle race, but I guess the site isn't authorized for this region. I can see it when I get back. Also my room hasn't been done yet. Sunday is the day they clean and reorganize the kitchens on each floor. I did take off my contacts, and obviously I grabbed my computer.
Also I was wrong about no beggars on the Metro. I encountered one today probably because it's Sunday. A disheveled woman toting a baby entered the carriage pleading in a loud voice. Begging must pay or people would do it, but no one in our carriage gave her anything but dirty looks.
Since I'm here, I needed some supplies, so I took a trip to the grocery store. European laws have relaxed recently. Sunday openings except for a few businesses used to be forbidden. Now a lot of stores are open, and groceries are usually open half of the day. This made it easier for me as I did not have to go scrounging for fast food. I love foreign grocery stores. I might not buy much, but I sure do look at the goodies on offer.
I can have the rest of the Est Est Est for apero and dinner wine. Breaking the bucatini in half worked for me, so I'll do that again.
I strolled out to the Metro and took it out to San Giovanni. St. John Lateran, not St. Peter's, is the Cathedral of Rome, and it's a Very Impressive Church. I visited it last time, and I wanted to see it again. This being Sunday, a service was in progress, but one could still visit. We had to go through security though.
I had another church in mind, too, so I went back to Termini to catch a bus.
You like living dangerously, Pil.
Maybe. But none of the information sites I looked at mentioned this particular line doesn't run on Sundays. I had some options. I decided first to figure out where to get my ticket tomorrow and what information I could find as to train times. I did this. Trains are frequent, and apparently there's a senior discount that I can take.
Then I wandered around Termini Station, which like many train stations is chaotic, and the existence of a big shopping center merely adds to the atmosphere of hurry and distraction. You can get food and drink for your journey, of course, but it seems that travelers may be impulsive because an awful lot of high end brands want to sell you something to take along.
I shamelessly waltzed into a perfume shop attracted by the name Capri, which is the name of an island the in the Bay of Naples. A quick squirt later and I emerged smelling of fresh lemon. Very nice indeed. I'm not going to pay the asking price to smell that way though.
I also snooted around Sephora and a couple of other stores then made my way to the Metro and home. I'll take things up again once I can get into my room.
And here I am with my apero. The Est times three is very nice with prosciutto crudo. I don't eat pork at home because I like pigs as animals as well as meat. The EU treats its food sources better than we do because of their long-tested traditions of production.
Dinner tonight is bucatini halves Bolognese. "Real"sugo de Bologna is rich, slow cooked, meat heavy, fatty, and very, very involved. I pulled this off the grocery store shelf, so not authentico. But our taste buds should be the judge.
So here's judging. This is an industrialized mass produced product. That doesn't mean it's bad. I like it just fine. Just don't expect what Nonna used to make. And Est times 3 is not the optimal wine to have with it. Try a slightly sweet, slightly sparkling Lambrusco. Really.
Ciao
Saturday, October 12, 2019
Renaissance Rome
Buon Giorno,
After a largely sleepless night, I did better today than I thought I would. I'm tired, but it's not the down deep to the bone exhaustion I felt yesterday.
I've had some water, and taken off my shoes and contact lenses. Time for apero! Prosecco is refreshing on a hot afternoon. To eat I have my crostini spread with hummus. Ok. That's not exactly authentico, but I like hummus for breakfast, but I need to use it up. It's actually nice with the sparkling wine.
I set off having made some fruitful plans to visit a villa park on the Janiculum Hill. Then I would walk down said hill to the Villa Farnesina. I'd been to the latter before and was eager to see it again. Then I would take a bus or tram or something to connect with a metro line and pick up some cash at my bank's foreign partner on the way home.
I asked at reception, and the nice young lady told me a bus would take me to the park. Google maps, confirmed the existence of the bus only with a different number. I set out in search of the bus stop. I hunted in both directions on the main drag, and I found bus stops, but none with the right number or stops. Bus stops in Rome helpfully list the stops you can expect. I walked so far I got to the next Metro stop.
Well, phooey on this, I said. I'll just go get cash and then visit Villa Farnesina. Yesterday when I was in the neighborhood the bank practically leaped out in front of me. Today--I couldn't find it. I tried different streets. I retraced my steps. I decided to give up. Then the bank magically appeared in front of my eyes. The Bankomats are smart. I insert my American ATM card and the instructions automatically appear in English.
Then I strolled down to the Tiber and voluntarily got on a bus.
Gasp! Really, Pil?
Yup. Remember the signs list the stops, and I knew which one I wanted. It was a quick and easy ride. I hopped off, found the entrance, and bought my ticket.
Villa Farnesina was the brainchild and pleasure house of Agostino Chigi, who was rich and well connected enough to afford the services of Raphael and his studio. The house itself is small, but exquisite. The decorations in pure High Renaissance style are impressive. Of course, the most famous is the Galatea Fresco, which has always been one of my favorites, but the rest is worth seeing as well.
This time around I got a bonus. A special exhibition of Leonardo's influence on Raphael and others appeared. Moreover, the Villa had acquired a very informative audio guide tour, and more of the rooms opened to the public. I spent a very worthwhile time.
Leaving the Villa I walked down the street and under an arch and found myself in Trastavere, a charming section of Rome that manages to be both touristy and a real neighborhood. I strolled around for a bit--resisting the touristy bits. Then I voluntarily got on another bus--one that would take me to Termini where I could get the Metro home.
The Romans have exemplary Metro manners. No one sprawls or spreads if a fellow passenger needs a seat. For some reason they never eat or drink on the trains, and they conduct themselves with quiet restraint. Any noisy person is most likely to be a tourist. Of course, like most humans these days, they are in thrall to their cell phones, but the carriages are mercifully free of beggars and buskers.
I stopped on the way to pick up some wine. I wanted Est Est Est!, which I enjoyed last time I was here. White wine is not the best with tomato based sauce, but I didn't care for Latin reds, and also being a Californian, I like my wine chilled beyond any temperature a European could tolerate. I picked up a cheapo DOG bottle, and I figured I'd get what I paid for. Actually it's ok--a bit sweet, but that might help with the tomato based sauce. Obviously I can't drink the whole bottle, but if no one else wants it, it was so cheap, I won't mind pouring it out.
And I confess that I wimped out on the bucatini. I snapped the strands in half. Although it's good, it's also too hard to cook and eat otherwise. I also loaded on the sauce because I needed to use it up.
Ciao!
After a largely sleepless night, I did better today than I thought I would. I'm tired, but it's not the down deep to the bone exhaustion I felt yesterday.
I've had some water, and taken off my shoes and contact lenses. Time for apero! Prosecco is refreshing on a hot afternoon. To eat I have my crostini spread with hummus. Ok. That's not exactly authentico, but I like hummus for breakfast, but I need to use it up. It's actually nice with the sparkling wine.
I set off having made some fruitful plans to visit a villa park on the Janiculum Hill. Then I would walk down said hill to the Villa Farnesina. I'd been to the latter before and was eager to see it again. Then I would take a bus or tram or something to connect with a metro line and pick up some cash at my bank's foreign partner on the way home.
I asked at reception, and the nice young lady told me a bus would take me to the park. Google maps, confirmed the existence of the bus only with a different number. I set out in search of the bus stop. I hunted in both directions on the main drag, and I found bus stops, but none with the right number or stops. Bus stops in Rome helpfully list the stops you can expect. I walked so far I got to the next Metro stop.
Well, phooey on this, I said. I'll just go get cash and then visit Villa Farnesina. Yesterday when I was in the neighborhood the bank practically leaped out in front of me. Today--I couldn't find it. I tried different streets. I retraced my steps. I decided to give up. Then the bank magically appeared in front of my eyes. The Bankomats are smart. I insert my American ATM card and the instructions automatically appear in English.
Then I strolled down to the Tiber and voluntarily got on a bus.
Gasp! Really, Pil?
Yup. Remember the signs list the stops, and I knew which one I wanted. It was a quick and easy ride. I hopped off, found the entrance, and bought my ticket.
Villa Farnesina was the brainchild and pleasure house of Agostino Chigi, who was rich and well connected enough to afford the services of Raphael and his studio. The house itself is small, but exquisite. The decorations in pure High Renaissance style are impressive. Of course, the most famous is the Galatea Fresco, which has always been one of my favorites, but the rest is worth seeing as well.
This time around I got a bonus. A special exhibition of Leonardo's influence on Raphael and others appeared. Moreover, the Villa had acquired a very informative audio guide tour, and more of the rooms opened to the public. I spent a very worthwhile time.
Leaving the Villa I walked down the street and under an arch and found myself in Trastavere, a charming section of Rome that manages to be both touristy and a real neighborhood. I strolled around for a bit--resisting the touristy bits. Then I voluntarily got on another bus--one that would take me to Termini where I could get the Metro home.
The Romans have exemplary Metro manners. No one sprawls or spreads if a fellow passenger needs a seat. For some reason they never eat or drink on the trains, and they conduct themselves with quiet restraint. Any noisy person is most likely to be a tourist. Of course, like most humans these days, they are in thrall to their cell phones, but the carriages are mercifully free of beggars and buskers.
I stopped on the way to pick up some wine. I wanted Est Est Est!, which I enjoyed last time I was here. White wine is not the best with tomato based sauce, but I didn't care for Latin reds, and also being a Californian, I like my wine chilled beyond any temperature a European could tolerate. I picked up a cheapo DOG bottle, and I figured I'd get what I paid for. Actually it's ok--a bit sweet, but that might help with the tomato based sauce. Obviously I can't drink the whole bottle, but if no one else wants it, it was so cheap, I won't mind pouring it out.
And I confess that I wimped out on the bucatini. I snapped the strands in half. Although it's good, it's also too hard to cook and eat otherwise. I also loaded on the sauce because I needed to use it up.
Ciao!
Friday, October 11, 2019
St. Peter's
Buon Giorno!
You may have noticed a glaring omission in my last trip to Rome--one that I remedied today. I visited the Basilica San Pietro.
I wanted to last time, but the four hour line was daunting. This time I got smart and booked an audio guide tour that let me skip the line.
I am still exhausted and jet lagged. I got between four and five hours of sleep and still woke up bone tired, but one thing about coming back to a place is that I know where things are and how to get around. My first stop was the local grocery store.
I must have presented as a clueless American because the nice grocery clerk spoke to me in English.
Now that I am marginally more aware of my surroundings I realized my apartment has a balcony, and that there are instructions to label food and drink in the kitchen. After my trip to the grocery store, I obtained labels from Reception, labeled my food, and put it in my room's section of the refrigerator.
Then I walked to the metro and got a transport pass.
Now this audio guide tour has no precise time. You show up between A hour and B hour, so I had some leeway. Impulsively I took the metro out to Flaminio to say hi to the Caravaggios at Santa Maria del Populo. I also had my first (of many today) opportunities to ignore a beggar. Caravaggio's wonderful, unconventional take on The Conversion of St. Paul stands opposite the Crucifiction of Peter. Both are marvelous, and I enjoy seeing art in its "natural setting"rather than a museum.
Speaking of which, and since it was a day for Baroque, it was time for me to go to St. Peter's to admire Bernini.
First one needs to get from the metro stop to the Vatican. This involved dodging touts. I swear, the next time I come here, I'm going to be wearing a t shirt proclaiming,"I've already Booked my Tour." It's the only thing that slows them down. And then one swims against the tide of tour groups.
Eventually I fetched up at Bernini's sweeping double colonnade of Tuscan columns and found my check in point. I was given a sticker and directed to the next stop. Getting in was fast and easy. The nice young lady at the desk set my phone up for me, and I was launched.
The interior of the basilica is magnificently beautiful and remarkably harmonious in its grandeur. I soon tired of the audio guide. I knew what I was looking at, and the guide gave me little real information. It was pious rather than art historical. I abandoned it and just wandered and looked.
Bernini didn't design or build St. Peter's but the whole church breathes his spirit. He wanted to render religious power and awe in material form. Good job, Gian Lorenzo! I think you did it.
The Baldacchino or canopy over the high altar is huge and nearly overwhelming with its spiraling columns and ornament. At the apse sits Bernini's Cathedra Petri arranged so heavenly light shines on the papal throne supported by the Four Doctors of the Church. Apparently Bernini enclosed the original wooden seat or cathedra in his bronze version.
It's not all Bernini. Other art treasures adorn the church, but the one you'll really want to see is Michelango's Pieta. It is both beautiful and touching.
But in the midst of this, I had to seek out facilities. I had to wait in line for the women's toilet far longer than it look me to enter the church. Of course there was no corresponding line for the men's bathroom.
By the end of my visit I was really tired and needed to come home. Fortunately my room had been done, so I could take my shoes and contacts off.
Apero is some whole wheat crostini with prosciutto crudo, and the package assures me that the latter was made without gluten or dairy. It's still delicious. Even supermarket brands are far better than what we can find at home. I got some fancy Prosecco, since the day promised to be warm. It's pretty nice.
Dinner involves bucatini, a pasta Romans like, but which may be hard to find. Think macaroni elongated to look like spaghetti with a hole in it. It is the traditional vehicle for sugo All' Amatriciana, a favorite of the Romans and visitors even though it was invented elsewhere. It's a tomato based sauce most authentically made with pork cheek or guancale, but Americans can get away with using pancetta. While going on the metro I passed some ads with enticing looking bowls of the stuff to put me in the mood. It's somewhat messy to eat but very good!
Ciao
You may have noticed a glaring omission in my last trip to Rome--one that I remedied today. I visited the Basilica San Pietro.
I wanted to last time, but the four hour line was daunting. This time I got smart and booked an audio guide tour that let me skip the line.
I am still exhausted and jet lagged. I got between four and five hours of sleep and still woke up bone tired, but one thing about coming back to a place is that I know where things are and how to get around. My first stop was the local grocery store.
I must have presented as a clueless American because the nice grocery clerk spoke to me in English.
Now that I am marginally more aware of my surroundings I realized my apartment has a balcony, and that there are instructions to label food and drink in the kitchen. After my trip to the grocery store, I obtained labels from Reception, labeled my food, and put it in my room's section of the refrigerator.
Then I walked to the metro and got a transport pass.
Now this audio guide tour has no precise time. You show up between A hour and B hour, so I had some leeway. Impulsively I took the metro out to Flaminio to say hi to the Caravaggios at Santa Maria del Populo. I also had my first (of many today) opportunities to ignore a beggar. Caravaggio's wonderful, unconventional take on The Conversion of St. Paul stands opposite the Crucifiction of Peter. Both are marvelous, and I enjoy seeing art in its "natural setting"rather than a museum.
Speaking of which, and since it was a day for Baroque, it was time for me to go to St. Peter's to admire Bernini.
First one needs to get from the metro stop to the Vatican. This involved dodging touts. I swear, the next time I come here, I'm going to be wearing a t shirt proclaiming,"I've already Booked my Tour." It's the only thing that slows them down. And then one swims against the tide of tour groups.
Eventually I fetched up at Bernini's sweeping double colonnade of Tuscan columns and found my check in point. I was given a sticker and directed to the next stop. Getting in was fast and easy. The nice young lady at the desk set my phone up for me, and I was launched.
The interior of the basilica is magnificently beautiful and remarkably harmonious in its grandeur. I soon tired of the audio guide. I knew what I was looking at, and the guide gave me little real information. It was pious rather than art historical. I abandoned it and just wandered and looked.
Bernini didn't design or build St. Peter's but the whole church breathes his spirit. He wanted to render religious power and awe in material form. Good job, Gian Lorenzo! I think you did it.
The Baldacchino or canopy over the high altar is huge and nearly overwhelming with its spiraling columns and ornament. At the apse sits Bernini's Cathedra Petri arranged so heavenly light shines on the papal throne supported by the Four Doctors of the Church. Apparently Bernini enclosed the original wooden seat or cathedra in his bronze version.
It's not all Bernini. Other art treasures adorn the church, but the one you'll really want to see is Michelango's Pieta. It is both beautiful and touching.
But in the midst of this, I had to seek out facilities. I had to wait in line for the women's toilet far longer than it look me to enter the church. Of course there was no corresponding line for the men's bathroom.
By the end of my visit I was really tired and needed to come home. Fortunately my room had been done, so I could take my shoes and contacts off.
Apero is some whole wheat crostini with prosciutto crudo, and the package assures me that the latter was made without gluten or dairy. It's still delicious. Even supermarket brands are far better than what we can find at home. I got some fancy Prosecco, since the day promised to be warm. It's pretty nice.
Dinner involves bucatini, a pasta Romans like, but which may be hard to find. Think macaroni elongated to look like spaghetti with a hole in it. It is the traditional vehicle for sugo All' Amatriciana, a favorite of the Romans and visitors even though it was invented elsewhere. It's a tomato based sauce most authentically made with pork cheek or guancale, but Americans can get away with using pancetta. While going on the metro I passed some ads with enticing looking bowls of the stuff to put me in the mood. It's somewhat messy to eat but very good!
Ciao
Thursday, October 10, 2019
Return to Rome
Bona Sera!
On the train into the city, I saw a poor, benighted soul trying to recharge his cell phone using a North American plug. Seriously? It's tacky to shame ignorance, but every single guide book in the galaxy on line or off explains about the need for adaptors and has illustrations. These things are easy and affordable from Amazon, and the traveler in need can find them abroad, but the merchants know how to soak desperate travelers.
I had a smooth trip out--it was just long, involved, and tiring. I'm dehydrated, but I have a nice bottle of sparkling San Pellegrino water and a snack.
I've finally joined the second decade of the Twenty-first Century. I dumped the unreliable ride share van for a ride hailing service. Easy Peasy. I had a quick, comfortable ride to the airport.
Once there I was directed to the express lane of security, and it took only five minutes to get through--and that included having my hands swabbed. I don't need to be so anxious about leaving home early now.
My seat mates on both flights were pleasant. The cabins were quiet. I flew LAX to Munich in Premium Economy, which is nice. I dozed briefly, but didn't really sleep. Right now I'm jet lagged to the point where I have a hard time understanding what people say to me. Nothing was hard--it was just really, really, really long, and I am not as young as I used to be.
The pilot on the Munich-Rome flight was a joker, and he had us all in stitches.
I believed I got a deal on my apartment, and it's fine, but now I know why it was cheaper. There's a communal kitchen. I'm not excited about this, but it looks like the visitors are responsible. I didn't see piles of dirty dishes or left overs, and we all get a section of the refrigerator to ourselves. It should be fine. I keep early hours anyway. I just need to be careful not to disturb my neighbors when I make breakfast--which may not be all that early tomorrow anyway.
I'll be here a few days before leaving for Naples. I have some unfinished business with the City.
Ciao
On the train into the city, I saw a poor, benighted soul trying to recharge his cell phone using a North American plug. Seriously? It's tacky to shame ignorance, but every single guide book in the galaxy on line or off explains about the need for adaptors and has illustrations. These things are easy and affordable from Amazon, and the traveler in need can find them abroad, but the merchants know how to soak desperate travelers.
I had a smooth trip out--it was just long, involved, and tiring. I'm dehydrated, but I have a nice bottle of sparkling San Pellegrino water and a snack.
I've finally joined the second decade of the Twenty-first Century. I dumped the unreliable ride share van for a ride hailing service. Easy Peasy. I had a quick, comfortable ride to the airport.
Once there I was directed to the express lane of security, and it took only five minutes to get through--and that included having my hands swabbed. I don't need to be so anxious about leaving home early now.
My seat mates on both flights were pleasant. The cabins were quiet. I flew LAX to Munich in Premium Economy, which is nice. I dozed briefly, but didn't really sleep. Right now I'm jet lagged to the point where I have a hard time understanding what people say to me. Nothing was hard--it was just really, really, really long, and I am not as young as I used to be.
The pilot on the Munich-Rome flight was a joker, and he had us all in stitches.
I believed I got a deal on my apartment, and it's fine, but now I know why it was cheaper. There's a communal kitchen. I'm not excited about this, but it looks like the visitors are responsible. I didn't see piles of dirty dishes or left overs, and we all get a section of the refrigerator to ourselves. It should be fine. I keep early hours anyway. I just need to be careful not to disturb my neighbors when I make breakfast--which may not be all that early tomorrow anyway.
I'll be here a few days before leaving for Naples. I have some unfinished business with the City.
Ciao
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)