Caravaggio

The paper gods

So it’s Tuesday and Syracuse. I’m booked for Fedra at the Greek theatre at 19.30 so decide Ito spend the day doing a tour of Siracusa’s famous island Ortygia. There are two bridges onto the island and the main street close to my apartment, Corso Umbero I, leads directly to one of them.

Confronted almost immediately by a cat on a hot car roof, I have to head off the way it’s pointing. So I go there and admire the ruins of the Temple of Apollo – grey not the golden stone of yesterday’s ‘Valley’, but impressive in scale. And it dates back to the sixth century BCE.

*Apollo’s temple remains and the arch I loved.*

I walk on through the Jewish quarter, cursing Netanyahu for giving them an undeserved bad name, and find myself enchanted by a tiny church (San Paolo I think) with a magical Catalan style multi-column arch – just so elegant. As I pass through the narrow streets I am often lured by planting displays into dead ends – hey, that’s discovery! I emerged at a seaside street and opposite was a building that made me think I’d chosen the right BnB.

Shortly after this, as a self-styled writer, I was intrigued by the Museum of Papyrus. Yes I known it’s importance and Egypt and all that but why in Sicily? So I have to go in and find out. It transpires that in times past papyrus plants came to Sicily as part of conventional trade deals and found a home on the river Caine, where it has flourished. It’s not just a museum it’s a whole research centre into papyrus ancient and modern with rooms stacked with files and specimens that we could not enter. But where we could go was fascinating with a video tracing Carrado Basile’s fascination with all things papyrus, the production process and examples of works on papyrus from many different centuries. And of course they had papyrus boats which I had heard of before. I was particularly struck by an ancient Egyptian palette and pens.

After an unexpectedly interesting hour and a half (always keep an open mind!) I walked on around to the easternmost point of Ortygia but I couldn’t see the mainland., but the sea was good and the prospect appealing.

It proved even better in that a bar with a beer was close by and restored me to walk into the main square in quest of Caravaggio. One of his paintings The Burial of Santa Lucia is in a church here. It isn’t, but there’s a technologically brilliant facsimile involving hi-res scanning and 3-D printing. It’s in a room with a modern take on the subject that I liked for it’s expressionism and a photographic tableau recreation that was quite scary.

*The ‘original’; detail of Lucia, modern response and detail from photo recreation. Chiaroscuro lives!*

This church dedicated to Lucia the patron saint of Sicily is at the edge of a very impressive main square with the cathedral and of course lots of restaurants, It’s a fine cathedral too.

*Chiesa Di Santa Lucia; the main piazza, Cathedral frontage and amazingly original Greek temple columns incorporated into the Christian cathedral. I’d never seen this before.*

It’s time for lunch and I take it back by the other bridge off Ortygia, A seafood mixed grill gives me two enormous prawns, octopus tentacles (sorry!) and a squid and a slice of swordfish, full stomach, oily fingers and a good local crisp wine to set it off,

Next step was to book a cab for the Teatro Greco and sadly do some laundry. I’d packed a few pairs of pants and a couple of tops too few. The dryer on the balcony was struck by a Saharan sand storm in the night so I had to do it all again next morning. Reassurance – I do have clean pants.

But the theatre visit was incredible. Loads of young people thronging their way in – set book at school? The amphitheatre is a stunning semicircle and despite the cushions (thanks) you can still see much of the original stone seats. It gradually filled up.

I had an interesting exchange with a group of young women who asked whether I’d understand a word. I told them I knew the story and loved theatre and wan’t going to pass up a probably once-in-a lifetime experiences. They sang Happy Birthday to me and we were friends for the duration – I did feel a little uneasy as an 80 year-old among teenagers but soon the play was the thing and we all became absorbed by a production directed by the Scottish Paul Curran. And what a production! A huge godhead formed the main set dressing, otherwise mostly scaffolding, A mix of wafty mauve-tinged shifts for the chorus, dramatic yellow for sad Oenone, black for Fedra and an amazing gold outfit for Aphrodite. The opening Chorus scene was a great dance routine The opposing armies were in rescue services hi-vis gear and helmets.. And as so often with Greek drama it all ends in tears and cheers. The audience stood as one at the end to salute the performers,

*Never was going to end well but brilliantly performed with size of auditorium and fading light to contend with – so glad I went.*

Rome for Christmas

Il ritorno di Michele

I have now been back through the Rome blogs and add photos so if anyone 
wants to flick through them again you'll be most welcome.

Sorry Monteverdi – it was all that baroque last night and then on iTunes while I was writing. Ulysses’ return was a more dramatic story than mine and made for a fine opera we saw a couple of years ago. My return journey began with packing my one carry on bag – first time for a long time I’ve travelled without checked in luggage. Breakfast, checkout, store case with porter and set off to Galleria Borghese for a final cultural treat. The concierge advised the metro to Flaminio and then walk through the lovely Borghese Park. It is sunny and bright, not too cold and I stride off purposefully through the, indeed, lovely park. It dawns on me quite early that to get to the gallery it’s all uphill and nearly two kilometres. The signage is plentiful but confusing as there are several other museums and galleries in the park so the map had to come out a few times to confirm I was on the right path.

Borghese Park - Copy

A couple of pauses to watch red squirrels cavorting – why do they look so much more agreeable that the grey vermin I constantly shoo off my bulbs? – and I make it to the gallery shortly after my timed admission slot from 11:00 till 13:00 – one occasion when I really appreciate the timed-ticket system as it meant I was able to admire the works on display.

Borghese gallery - Copy — Galleria Borghese – at last!

Painting perfection

The permanent collection houses lots of Berninis but also had a special exhibition showing his work as a painter at which he excelled in his early years and then largely abandoned once commissions for sculpture and architecture filled his days. The first floor sculpture galleries contain pieces from ancient times, mosaic floors of great beauty and loads of Bernini busts in an amazing row through a long gallery. Perhaps the most startling piece is the prone statue of Hermaphroditus from the second century AD, reclining on a mattress sculpted by Bernini which you are sure will respond to your touch. But I was soon headed up the spiral staircase to see the paintings. Fortunately their Caravaggios hadn’t all gone to Florence and David with the Head of Goliath, Boy with a basket of fruit and others only seen in reproductions were there to marvel at. As indeed were Raphael’s brilliant Lady with a Unicorn (as on trend in 1506 as in 2017), and Deposition of Christ. There was a fine Bernini self-portrait and then Titian’s amazing Sacred and Profane Love which reignited my musings about secular and religious art prompted by last night’s concert. My time was up but I would happily spend another two hours absorbing the works in this elegant setting, where they are so admirably displayed. It was great not being shuffled and squeezed along a toothpaste tube of visitors.

Tempus fugit but memories remain

I decided to walk out of the park by a different route clocking a location for another visit, the highly regarded Museum of Modern Art on the way. Its facade was tempting but I did have a flight to catch. I arrive on via Flaminio close to a tram stop for the number 2 that I had used on Wednesday so waited for the next tram to take my tiring limbs back to the metro stop. I looked at my watch and it was exactly 12:25 the time my wife died a year ago.

Tram 1225 So I had a little moment and resumed my journey on a packed tram. I had time to raise a glass to her in the Piazza del Popolo and found another birra artiginale this time from brewery Beatrice with a pale ale called Diana – all very British royal family! With some complimentary crisps and nuts I was ready for the last leg. I had done very well using metro, trams and a bus and decided to treat myself to a luxury ride to the airport in the hotel’s shuttle bus which proved a good plan as we arrived in good time and I was able to find a seat and write a previous blog.

Dies irae

All good things come to an end and my very enjoyable first taste of Rome ended in anger with the inefficiency of Ryanair’s ground handling subcontractors at Ciampino airport. As this was my first trip for ages without checked baggage, I had paid the extra six euros for priority boarding that enables you to take your wheelie case into the plane. There was no priority line for check in and as I arrived at the top of the steps I was informed that my bag would have to go in the hold. I explained that I had paid for priority simply to be able to place my case in the overhead locker. ‘Well you should have checked in earlier.’ ‘I would have done but having gone to the desk to find there was no Priority Lane I had to join nearly the end of the Other Q, as you so nicely put it to the plebs.’ To be fair a helpful flight attendant did look at a number of lockers but to have removed the bags of non-payers to make way for mine would have delayed the flight so I reluctantly allowed my case to go to the hold and sat down to sulk my way home. Given all the alarms I’d heard about problems at Stansted during the week I guess I was lucky to be coming back at anywhere near the scheduled time. We landed and of course mine was the last case onto the conveyor – fortunately identifiable since no one gave me a baggage claim receipt.

All’s well …

Faith in customer service was refreshed as I arrived at the mid-stay parking exit. When you have pre-booked the gate opens on recognising your number plate. However on Christmas Eve I actually arrived an hour early so it didn’t clock my reg and no one answered the help button so I had to take a ticket. I half-expected to have to pay the price at the exit and then reclaim my costs later but a splendid operator, who did answer the help button this time, checked me on the system and opened the barrier with no charge for my extra hour. A quick run down the M11, a clear Blackwall Tunnel and back home after a stimulating and enjoyable trip. Exhausted but happy and with a welcome home hug from neighbour Jan, who lost her father two days before Christmas.

Rome for Christmas

Boxing Day diversions

Boxing Day saw me leaving the hotel bright and early to get the metro to Colisseo which meant a change at Termini, the only point where the two lines cross. I thought some of the tube interchanges in London involved quite a few steps but it took more than five minutes to get from one platform to the other – maybe there was a shorter route for the locals but Termini reminded me a bit of the subway in Japan where you are tempted from your journey by a plethora of retail opportunities. The tour party assembled just outside the metro station with a clear view of the Colisseum which is absolutely massive and breathtaking – and most of it is missing! Start time 09:45 for a prompt ten o’clock entrance.

Colosseum - Copy
Into the arena
This was my first experience of paying in advance for a ‘skip the line’ tour. By the time we’d all assembled, been equipped with headsets and radios to catch our guide’s wise words we were already fifteen minutes after start time and after struggling through the groups entrance, airport type security and general faff we didn’t actually get into the Colisseum until twenty to eleven. We were a motley group on Americans from Iowa and Florida, an Iranian couple who vanished midway through and of course a family of six Chinese one of whom did her best to interpret for the others who lacked her command of English.

The structure is incredible and one has to remember that it would all have ben clad in marble. The Romans obviously gave us a lot but I couldn’t help relating current coverage of Qatar’s brutal methods of building prestigious stadia for the World Cup and what must have happened as this and other magnificent structures were built. Life is cheap in these circumstances. The rich must be glorified in the manner of their choosing. The other thing that was cheap was wood and as I’m reading Annie Proulx’s fabulous book Barkskins about the deforestation of New England to build British ships, homes for migrants and the displacement of the native Americans, I couldn’t help remarking that lack of respect for both life and natural resources is nothing new.

Colosseum WS - Copy — Showing the underground area where gladiators and animals and condemned criminals waited to be brought up to the arena by rope-pulled elevators

Social media

We leave for the next part of the trip, the Roman Forum. We wait for fifteen minutes at another security check because we’re two numbers short (the Iranians) and I suspect guide Emilia gets charged for any radios missing at the end as she seemed in a real panic about it.

We admire the Arch of Titus parts of which are well preserved and show him clearly bringing home the loot such as menorah from the sacking of Jerusalem. We had already been staggered by the arch of Constantine which sits between the Colisseum and the Forum across the Via Sacra which was the route for the religious to St Peter’s later on. What surprised me most about the Forum – you get blasé about 2000 year old objects in Rome – was the difference in levels.

Forum - Copy

It’s like a trifle or a layer cake with a difference of some 50 metres between the current excavated floor thought to be around 100 BC to the entrance to the Senate House built in 283 AD, The general explanation is floods and alluvial deposits from the Tiber and demolishing buildings for new edifices and leaving debris behind.

Doors that got away These bronze doors – apparently one of only three that weren’t melted down at some stage are high above the level we are now walking at.

The Forum was of course where Romans came to gossip, plot and make the laws – mostly done on Twitter today. Our trip has overrun so we miss the Palatine Hill and I exit up to the Capitoline and down into the Jewish quarter for a refreshing beer in Bar Toto a recommendation from another gift Jo sent with me, a leaflet with hints and tips on unusual things to do in Rome. This was a very relaxed local bar in a great people-watching location.

Gone Galleria

My next port of call was the Galleria Doria Pamphili which guide books raved about. I found it easily, paid my fee (no discounts for the elderly) and entered this amazing palace. It had a great courtyard, fine staircases and then room after room of overhung galleries. By this I mean large paintings exhibited three high on walls about 5-8 metres tall giving you severe neck ache. The main attraction of two important Caravaggios were absent on loan to Florence and apart from a superb Velazquez portrait of Innocent X next to Bernini’s bust of the same pope there was little to delight the eye. The Bernini-Velasquez juxtaposition was fascinating viewing but the rest I found dull in the extreme – room after room of gloomy Dutch landscapes. It smacked of art acquisition not art appreciation – so what else is new?

Crazy old man and the altar of peace

Bernini Elephant I walked through Piazza Navona passsing more Bernini fountains – I especially liked his elephant supporting an obelisk on its howdah. – and I pass the church where I have a concert on Thursday night and on up the Tiber to the Ara Pacis museum. This had not been on my original agenda but I’m easily diverted. This is a glass box built recently to house the Altar of Peace of Augustus which was consecrated in 9 BC after Augustus had conquered France and Spain and people and animals had to be sacrificed to celebrate. It was buried under silt until 1939 and is in remarkable condition and a very beautiful structure despite its deadly purpose.

Ara Pacis - Copy

To my delight there was an exhibition of Hokusai woodblock prints in the temporary exhibition space beneath. There were old favourites like Red Fuji and The Great Wave but many that I hadn’t seen before. There was also one room that bore the legend ‘Adults only beyond this point’. It had Hokusai and Eisen shunga, the very filthy erotic works they used to produce to educate brides and grooms – well that’s one story we heard in Tokyo.

Home cooking

I walked back to the Piazza del Populo a massive square with people statues, legionnaires for selfies, bubble blowers and buskers – also a bar, and just beyond a convenient Metro stop on the A line which whisked me back to the hotel.

Church Palace night 1 - Copy — My hotel at night

I went out again and found a very fine local restaurant, Joseph, with a great family atmosphere and good simple food in my case a succulent veal chop, salad and fries.