Le Grande Avventura Italiana di Chris e Julie: Rome – Part Two

Walking down the street not far from our hotel, Chris was first to notice the iconic walls of the Colosseum peeking through the modern office buildings. Finding our tour was a bit more difficult the next morning since the area is huge, and tour companies stake out their spaces with flags around the park. Finally, we were shuffled into a group of English-speaking tourists with our guide Matteo.

Matteo expertly steered us through the long lines of visitors and X-ray machines in the entry of this first-century amphitheater of limestone and rock, which was the largest in the ancient world. He spoke perfect English, although a bit too quickly to follow easily through my headphones. His focus, unlike our experience at the Vatican, was much more personal as he tried to recreate the experience of a common Roman citizen as he attended an over-the-top event at the Colosseum in the first century A.D.

Matteo pointed out how the commoners sat in the nose-bleed seats and entered the stadium through numbered entries far from the elite. Once inside, the audience was treated to contests between gladiators, animal hunts that included hundreds of animals from as far away as Africa and Asia, battle re-enactments, and the execution of Christians.

He explained that commoners were given tickets to these extravagant shows, which lasted for hours, to ensure their support of the emperor. The games were first described, by a Roman poet, as “bread and circuses,” which is a phrase that means to generate public approval through diversion or distraction by satisfying the populace through food (bread) or entertainment (circuses). It’s interesting how human nature is still controlled by feeding our immediate desires.

Matteo also described how the Colosseum looked back in the day, its columns covered in beautiful mosaics in rich colors. However, over centuries, anything of value had been carted over to the Vatican to add to its rich coffers. Maybe no one complained because the Romans had originally built the Colosseum with wealth gained from ransacking Jewish riches in Jerusalem — and, no doubt, because of all the Christian blood spilled as part of gameday festivities. The view of the many cells and extensive hallways under the ground floor of the Colosseum showed how the intricate shows were created to wow the crowds.

The tour lasted more than three hours and included a trip up Palatine Hill, where we could see the Colosseum, the Forum and other remains of government buildings to imagine the glory of ancient Rome. It’s hard not to imagine what will last in Washington D.C. two thousand years from now and what tour guides will say about the legacy of our own culture.

Visiting the Vatican and Colosseum on our first-time trip to Rome was a must for both of us, but we also loved finding other surprises throughout the day on our own. I really wanted to see the Pantheon, which I’d seen often in photos. The architecture, still considered perfectly rendered, of the ancient Roman temple features a massive round dome, with a circular opening at the top that brings in light throughout the day, and its huge bronze doors. Of course, the line of tourists was long, but it moved quickly as visitors simply walked in and around the circular space and out again.

Nearby, with the help of other tourists, we also found the beautiful Trevi Fountain — GPS doesn’t always work that well. Again, on this sunny May afternoon, the popular site was overrun with tourists, so we dropped our coins in the fountain. Hmmm, we definitely stood with our back to the fountain and threw them in. But I guess the tradition says that you should use your right hand to toss a coin over your left shoulder. This will apparently ensure good luck and that you will return to Rome in the future. If you have another two coins on hand, throwing the second coin into the Trevi Fountain will let you meet the love of your life, while the third coin will have wedding bells ringing. (We should have checked out the specifics a bit more before we went!)

We also found another beautiful Catholic Basilica, the Basilica Papale di Santa Maria Maggiore, just down the street from our hotel. We got there after the building had closed for the night, but there was a service going on outside in front when we arrived. The nuns welcomed guests to sit in the chairs with lighted candles, and we decided to stay for a bit. We listened to the chanting and finally realized that the nuns were reciting the rosary — and suddenly the service wasn’t so mysterious anymore.

More yummy restaurants and views from a rooftop bar — just beautiful!

We’re off to the Amalfi Coast!

Here on Earth

Taking a quick break from my posts on Italy to share a special afternoon of poetry organized by Notable Works Publications and the Audubon Society of Rhode Island. My poem, “Here on Earth” was published in a collection of poetry that speaks to the connection between the human and natural worlds.

I took part in a reading on June 11 at the Audubon Society of Rhode Island’s beautiful wildlife refuge in Bristol. This was very special to me because it gave me a chance to visit the East Bay Bike Path, which is right off the refuge, and where I biked for years when I lived in East Providence.

Here on Earth

After viewing “Where Children Sleep:
Photographs by James Mollison,”
an exhibition at the Lyman Allyn Art Museum,
New London, Conn., February 14, 2023
https://www.jamesmollison.com/wcs-copystand

Shhh! Mother Earth cradles kids
on a street corner in Rio de Janeiro,
in a tent made of cattle hides in Kenya,
in a room where corn is stored in Nepal,
on a mat with 21 other orphans in Thailand,
outdoors on a piece of carpet in the West Bank,
in a bed shaped like Cinderella’s coach in Kentucky.

Shhh! Mother Earth sings a lullaby
to Roathy, asleep on old tires in Phnom Penh,
to Ahkôhxet, whose Amazon tribe worships the sun,
to Juan David in Medellin, dreaming of life in America,
to Lamine, bone-tired from harvesting maize in Senegal,
to Alyssa, in a shack heated by a wood stove in Appalachia.
to a Romanian boy, counting stars on a mattress near Rome.

Shhh! Mother Earth cries alone
for landfills that seep lethal black liquid,
for mountain quarries stripped night and day,
for skies seething with smog and city high-rises,
for once green fields pockmarked by bomb blasts,
for human-made quotas and hate-filled boundaries,
for a vanishing tribe that still reveres nature, here on earth.

Julia Meylor Simpson
Second prize
Voices of the Earth: The Future of Our Planet III

Notable Works Publication
http://www.notableworks.org

Le Grande Avventura Italiana di Chris e Julie: Rome – Part One

Statement of obvious fact: Rome is overwhelming.

I suppose it’s simply because this mammoth city teeters on centuries of history. Everything about it is larger than life, especially when touring the Vatican and the Coliseum are your main objectives.

Getting there was our first challenge. We GPSed our way to the train station in Florence, but then found Italy’s train system a little confusing. First, the ticket line was quite long, so I decided to see if I could just purchase tickets online, like Amtrak. Chris continued to hold our place in line while I got online and bought them. (Again, I’m not sure how you can travel abroad without an international phone plan in some shape or form.)

Our train from Florence to Rome.

However, we slowly found out that the train tickets I had purchased online were not from the same company that Chris was standing in line for. What?! The tickets I purchased were for a totally different company that used the same train lines. After more questions, we found that company’s ticket office was a couple of lines over from the one Chris had been standing in — and there was no line. Again, why? And the tickets for this train were much cheaper than the other line. Non capisco!

As we talked to the agent, I realized that I had bought tickets for the wrong day (duh!), and she made that change for me. So, we finally had our tickets together on the same train on the same day. Whew!

And then the next morning, after a quick trip to the incredible Duomo and another yummy coffee and croissant, we were flying through the beautiful Italian countryside to Rome. Green fields. Red poppies. Tall, elegant poplars. All good.

The train station in Rome was, again, huge, but we found our way to the cab stand and got in line. Soon we were off to our hotel, weaving through major avenues and tiny warrens of streets. Everything seemed much more worn and dirty than in Florence, and there was a lot of graffiti, but that, too, was expected.

Our hotel, the Hotel Rafaello, on a street called Via Urbana, also looked a little worn and the elevator didn’t work, which meant up and down three flights of stairs for next three days. We later learned that the hotel was slated for a major renovation. We soon found that the hotel staff would not be as helpful as they had been in Florence. In fact, it seemed as if whenever we came near the desk, at least one attendant would pretend he was taking a phone call. (ha!) To their credit, we received the free breakfast buffet every morning because of the downed elevator, which was huge and delicious.

That afternoon, we walked around, found a cute little bistro for a quick bite and soon came upon the Coliseum less than a half mile away. We walked there a bit until the sky opened, and we ran for shelter along with the rest of the crowd. We had fun chatting with other tourists until the rain let up and we headed back to our hotel.

That night we ate at the one “so-so” restaurant on our whole trip. Again, it was suggested by our hotel concierge. And it was the only suggestion they had — for lunch and dinner. Had to wonder if someone was related to someone. Anyway, we stopped asking for suggestions and found our own.

The next day we were up early and taking a cab ride to the Vatican. Once we got there, I wondered how we would ever find our tour company. Lines were wrapped around every corner, even that early, as people waited for their timed ticket entry.

We were lucky enough to have tickets for a small tour of the Vatican, the Sistine Chapel, and St. Peter’s Basilica, which allowed us to skip the line and go in early. Thank the Lord (so appropriate)! Anyway, tour guides all know each other, so all we had to do was show our letter to any tour guide and they directed us to the right spot.

While we waited, we grabbed another great coffee and the most delicious strawberry croissant I had ever had. Actually, we waited quite a while for the croissant, and when we got it, I realized why. It had just been delivered by the bakery and the strawberries were freshly sliced. Yes, a taste of heaven in a little back-street coffee shop across from the high walls of the Vatican.

Our tour guide was an amazing young woman, whose name was Ilaria (Hilary in English), with a deep knowledge of art and an understanding of the inner workings of the Vatican. She kept us moving and shared so many stories as we walked through the long galleries and then to St. Peter’s Basilica. We even saw a wedding taking place in the one of the basilica’s side chapels. She told us that when she was engaged, she had planned to get married there, too. But the waitlist for weddings was three years long, and the engagement ended before the call came.

Anyone who has visited the Vatican knows of its immensity, its history, and its shocking cache of art, sculptures and riches. It’s hard not to wonder what my weekly offering of pennies went toward as a kid! And to picture Michelangelo as he lay on the rigging to paint the various scenes on the Sistine Chapel is to imagine a life so wholly different from that of any artist today. In the attempted reverential sort-of quiet of the chapel, the ceiling seems to be a riot of raw emotions. Of course, photos are not allowed here. They would not do this incredible work of art justice anyway.

Enough for now. I’ll come back for the Coliseum and more in the next chapter.

Veni, vidi, vici!


					

Le Grande Avventura Italiana di Chris e Julie: On to Florence

We landed in Rome the morning after flying through the night and then watched this huge airport process travelers for the next six hours due to a long layover to Florence. We also had the smallest espresso in the smallest cup I’d ever seen. I should have taken a photo of it.

We met other travelers during our wait, including a woman whose first flight from Boston to Rome had been canceled and rescheduled the day before. She was going to Tuscany for a weeklong cooking trip, and she had already missed the first day. She said she had traveled quite a bit and had learned to consider it as part of the adventure, because there was nothing she could do about it.

On to Florence, where we quickly got a cab to take us to our hotel. I had asked Lorraine Whittemore, the tour guide and travel planner, who I’d gone to Greece with in October to plan our trip, which included booking our flights, picking our hotels and coordinating our travel across Italy. We were excited to find that our hotel was right along the Arno River, and in the heart of the historic city. The small hotel, the Palazzo Alfieri, had been rehabbed from an ancient building that had been a retreat of many famous artists and writers (loved it!). It was elegant and modern with an peaceful interior courtyard right off the busy road that leads to the Ponte Vecchi, which is a famous bridge that crosses the Arno at the city center.

We didn’t get to Florence until 3 pm, and we only had two nights there, which meant we had tours at the Accademia Gallery and the Uffizi Gallery the next day. The best part about Florence is that it’s quite walkable (and clean and beautiful). Almost everything was easy to walk to and find – especially with the help of GPS. I just added a daily international plan to my phone so that we could get around pretty easily. It was just $10 and well worth it. And we did a LOT of walking!

We truly enjoyed the food in Florence too. Croissants and coffee for breakfast, Aperol spritzers and antipasto for lunch and pasta, pasta, and more pasta and wine for dinner. With tables so close to each other, we ended up talking to other tourists every night. Everyone was enjoying themselves. We danced to a Beatles song by a street musician on the Ponte Vecchi and sat in the piazzas watching people.

We toured the Accademia without a tour guide, which means we probably missed out on some important details, but seeing Michelangelo’s David needed no explanation. You see unfinished sculptures as you walk through the hallway leading to the masterpiece, which still seems so impossible – sculpting such incredible detail from these rough pieces of marble. And David is a simply a marvel. Later in the afternoon, we toured the Uffizi with a small group and a young guide, who was incredibly knowledgeable about this massive gallery. During our three hours with her, we barely scraped the surface.

The next morning we made our way to the Duomo thinking we could walk right in, but even at 10 am all the tickets were sold for the day, and the cathedral didn’t open to the public until after we had to leave to catch our train to Rome. We left Florence realizing that there was much more to explore – and taste. I was so glad we started there – Florence was inviting and generous and proud and gracious. It was a good place to start.

Next: Rome, Rome, Rome

Le Grande Avventura Italiana di Chris e Julie

It’s hard to believe Chris and I have already returned, and life is back to normal after spending 10 incredible days in beautiful Italy.

I’m determined to capture some notes and memories before they’re cast aside by hectic summer plans. So here I am on my abandoned blog, trying to capture an adventure that’s already a memory.

Wish me luck!

Day One

The photo below is of Chris, taking a photo of where his car is parked in long-term parking at Logan Airport in Boston. Believe me, the economy lot is off in East Jippippy (even Google couldn’t spell it), so don’t expect this part to be easy.

Just remember, if you’re planning to leave a car at the airport for an extended period, you need to reserve a spot early. Paying the daily fee can be exorbitant, and you’ll probably want to look for other options.

In the past, I’ve taken the bus or taken Amtrak to Boston and then to the airport so that I didn’t need to leave a car. Some airports have other options, like parking at a nearby hotel of off-airport lot.

Sometimes the most harrowing part of a trip is just getting to the airport on time. Or maybe it’s when they weigh your carry-on luggage? What? They’re weighing the bag that I carefully stuffed to the brim so I wouldn’t have to check a bag (which was Chris’s one request).

This was the first time that I’d flown internationally when I wasn’t planning to check a bag. So, I was shocked when the attendant told me to put my carry-on bag (which I’d borrowed from my daughter because it measured one-half inch longer than mine) on the scale to be weighed. Oops!

He reached for the checked bag stickers, and I was instantly carry-on-less. It was over 10kg? What does that equal in pounds? Are you kidding me? Why did I even try?

Chris’s bag was just a tad over 10, and the attendant blessed him with clear passage to the jet’s overhead compartment. I had failed the first test of staying clear of baggage claim.

On to Rome, a loooooong layover, and then to Florence!

E cosi via!

Day 2: Fresh almond croissants and the best coffee I’ve ever tasted.

Paying my respects

Al Albrektson passed away earlier this year at the age of 102. This post, written six years ago, includes a video about this amazing painter. I learned a lot from Al, mostly from his vivid colors and loose paint strokes. I wish I could have taken a class with him. Wherever he is now, I’m sure he’s made it a brighter place. Peace.

Another tribute to Al. https://www.providencejournal.com/story/entertainment/arts/2019/10/23/100-year-old-watercolorist-al-albrektson-honored-by-retrospective-exhibit-at-providence-art-club/2436347007/

Between land and sky

First posted on April 9, 2014

The title of this blog refers to the land and sky that first shaped me so long ago. For the last 40 years or so, my world has also been shaped by the Atlantic Ocean, Narragansett Bay and Long Island Sound. It’s been almost a year since I’ve written anything for this blog, but tonight I’ve been reading the posts that date back almost 15 years. I remember writing almost every one of them. So, I’ve come back to shake its bones alive again. I found this poem that refers to the blog’s title, and I thought I’d start here. Eight years ago — such a very different life.

Light sparkled off the Atlantic
on a flight to Atlanta.
Attendants smiled. Coffee was hot.
Toddler in next seat watched a video
for two hours. Plane was on time.
On to next gate. Next connection.

Found a vacant chair between
other vacant chairs and read a book.
Then CNN reported twenty teens
stabbed by classmate in Pennsylvania
this morning. All the while,
light sparkled off the Atlantic.

Bright spot

Short story:

It snowed Thursday, and its been icy cold since then, but I was determined to get a few photos of snow despite the drab gray day and being a wimp who detests the cold. I drove over to Mystic on River Road. I parked, planning to jump out, get a photo, and scoot back into my toasty car. As I took the photo of the Mystic River with the red chairs (above), a woman walked by all bundled up.

“You must be an artist,” she said, with a heavy German accent. “Anyone who sees beauty here today must be an artist.”

“This is my favorite place to walk, and I take photos all the time,” said, “I’m not an artist, but I do see beauty here.”

She smiled. “Then, yes, you are an artist.”

She introduced herself, and then said that she and her husband lived down the road and around the corner. As she continued on her way, she invited me to stop by for tea the next time I walked. And that was it. Just a few words, but she had turned a dreary day into a bright spot to be remembered.

Next thing I knew, I was locking up the car and heading down the road to Main Street, where I stopped in for a coffee and a few decadent macaroons at Sift, and then took photos while strolling up and down the street as I munched on a peanut-butter-and-jelly macaroon under my mask. The streets twinkled with holiday lights.

As I sit here, back in my warm condo, my legs are still chilly from the long walk, but her kind words glow. Thank you, Rita.

Clearing my head

On a warm day in December, the grandkids can play outside. They know how close they can get now.

I haven’t written much of anything in months. I’ve tried, but the attempts are half-hearted, unfocused, lost in COVID brain fog. This effort already feels doomed.

But it seems that I should document something about this historic year. At least we can see a light ahead now. In fact, the first COVID vaccines were administered in the U.S. this week, and some day down the road I will line up for one too. Of course, even this scientific achievement is either seen as a miracle or a mandate by the citizens of this great big pot of boiling water.

Every state, every person has handled this global pandemic differently. Some people are still traveling without a care in the world. Others haven’t seen members of their own families since the initial shutdown in March. I suppose if we were all in this together, it would feel a little differently. But we aren’t, and so our experiences with this historic pandemic are not universal. In some parts of the country, you are ridiculed for wearing a mask. In others, you can be fined for not wearing one. What happened to these united states, this one nation, our “grand” experiment in democracy? Even trying to answer that question becomes contentious.

And yet, life goes on. We all keep muddling through as best we can. Yes, the rules have changed since the early days—we’ve learned so much about this virus. And yes, the state quarantine regulations don’t always make sense—there’s still so much to learn about this virus. Some businesses are thriving, while others slide into the abyss. Wall Street is humming right along, while the newly unemployed, through no fault of their own, stand in long food lines for the first time in their lives. And through it all, our politicians seem even more out of step with reality as they blindly fight to hold on to power and control at all cost.

No doubt, we are forever changed by this year. We have seen evil. And we have seen hope. We have felt division. And we have felt hope. We have held loss, more than 300,000-plus deaths. And we have held on to hope.

As a grandmother of four grandchildren, I don’t know what the future will look like, but I want to believe it will be an inclusive-diverse-kind-supportive-thoughtful-respectful-resourceful-global-green-challenging-safe-accepting-educated-exciting-exploratory-competitive-talented-innovative-optimistic-creative-bighearted-heartbreaking-healthy place for everyone’s grandchildren.

Until recently, I thought most people desired a future like this. I now realize many don’t. Today, I saw a photo of a man who was identified as a member of a far-right hate group. Four years ago, I had little experience with these groups. They lurked in the shadows. But today, they are acknowledged, even mainstream. He was standing on a street in our nation’s capital in broad daylight, proudly wearing a t-shirt with the saying, “6MWE.” I didn’t know what it meant, so I googled it. It means “6 million wasn’t enough.” It refers to the Jewish men, women, and children murdered by Hitler’s Nazis in the 1930s. And the shirts were sold on Amazon until the site was recently taken down.

Horrifying.

So, here we are in 2020, living next door to people with these values; people who see a future, a present, much different from mine. And you may say, it’s always been that way. However, in the past, that man wore a white hood in the middle of the night with groups of like-minded, small-minded people. Today, they walk streets with shirts that flaunt and glorify their hate for others. This, as the last of the WWII veterans who liberated those death camps are now in their 90s. I can’t imagine explaining a t-shirt like that to a young Jewish child—to my grandchild—to anyone’s child.

I can’t imagine.

I can’t.