Head'n Home

-Up at 4 AM-
-To the airport at 5-
-To Paris at 7, across the Alps with morning sun bringing the earth to life-
-Across the sky blue ocean (the first time we have flown over the Atlantic by day)-
-Across Greenland: what a thrill to see miles and miles of this purported wasteland, so full of peace and beauty-
-To Minneapolis-
-To Bismarck-
-And 23 hours later to the greatest welcoming one can experience as Digby nearly jumped out of his skin to meet us.
-A nap on the floor with our pup, who snuggled very close to his master for a much needed cuddle.

Last Minute Reflections

Now we are in Malpensa Airport on Friday Nov.19, seventeen days since we began this journey. We are bound for Paris, Minneapolis and Bismarck, with scarcely enough Euros left for coffee. When George Mattson came back from a summer of camping in Europe, he said his dominate impressions were of "Christ and War". I (George) might have to use three terms: Power, Money and Art.
In Rome, power, both ecclesiastical and secular
In Florence, Medici money
Art in both places, chasing the money.
It's a paradox; art, which we know is the most interior, private, lonely, driven activity on earth, is sustained by filthy lucre from popes and bankers who want their rooms decorated. I am thinking too of the sermon I might give Sunday, health permitting. I would begin with the BCP, since we are using the 1549 Rite this Sunday, but then move back to the Protestant Reformation, linking the prayer book to the fundamental shift wrought by Luther, from institutional faith to an individual one with people praying and reading scripture daily...scripture alone, grace alone, faith alone. But without the Church, all the Duomos in the world don't mean squat. But behind the Duomos is the vast clunking machinery of the church. Without that, it's hard to see how Luther would have had access even had a scripture.

Effect Of The Drenching

Aside from our personal discomfort, the drenching rain shorted out our guides microphone so we were without her guidance for much of our tour. In addition, after Leonardo, we asked her to call us a taxi, as the thought of walking even one more block was beyond us. Even her i-phone did not work in this down pour, and when she finally got through to a cab company, it was busy, busy, busy. Guess why. Everyone in Milano was seeking a cab. So she sent us towards to a cab stand about 5 blocks away. We stood in the freezing torrent for another ten minutes until, THANKS BE TO GOD a taxi pulled up and we piled in for a very harrowing fourteen Euro ride to the train station, where we hopped on a train headed in the opposite direction. We actually jumped on a wrong train twice. After several angels helped us find the right train, we were then VERY uncertain about when to get off the train, which could have theoretically place us in a dark ally in the cold rain with no phone and no way to ask for help. In a word, panic or (sundowners)! But not life threatening, like walking in Rome without sidewalks and thousands of cars flashing by at 60 mph. Thankfully many kind people (angels) helped us along the way and we did to get off at the right stop. Otherwise, we still might be riding this train.

The three hour walking tour (actually 31/2 hours) was a torture. But we would not trade comfort for this experience. We did see the Duomo and da Vinci's "last Supper". That was the point.

After getting off the train we had another half a mile to walk to our B and B. Here is one minor warning. Bring two pairs of shoes. We each brought one, to save space. We traveled as lite as possible, with only one modest sized suit case each and a carry on. Three blocks from the B and B, Joanne's shoe strap broke and she spent the next day and a half until she reached Minot, limping along, trying to keep from losing the rest of the shoe.

We have never been so delighted to reach our lodging in our life. We then had a fabulous wood fired calzone and margarita pizza (the best in town we were told) and wonderful Italian wine. Then we went to bed until 4 AM. George was still sick, but life is not without its risks.

On to the Last Supper

Our guide was young. We were much older then the other members of this tour. It was cold and raining hard. Dusk approached. We were soaked to the bone. All in the name of art. To make our appointment for "The Last Supper", we walked very very fast and sometimes the keep up, we nearly ran for two hours across town. We had one ten minute stop for coffee. You have to pay extra to sit in Italian coffee shops, but the proprietors had mercy on us and we sat without the extra fee. After a ten minute warm-up, our guide said we had another 15 minutes to walk. It was really 40. We were moving so fast I (Joanne) literally had to trot on what felt like cold bloody stumps to keep up. If we were late, we'd miss the "Last Supper". No exceptions.

We paused for a moment at a museum along the way that contained another Michelangelo masterpiece, only to be told it was closed, though we would have had no time to enter anyway.

And then: after what seemed to be an interminable period of misery...there it was. The reason for the day. In a non-descript unmarked building housing "The Last Supper"!

It was common to paint "Last Suppers in dining rooms in monasteries. There are other "Last Suppers" painted by other artists in dining rooms in many monasteries. I hear there is a beautiful one inf Florence. This "Last Supper" was in an empty room with an ungainly fresco by an unknown artist on the opposite wall.

Leonardo's work is a triumph in restoration as much as a triumph of art. One could spend a lifetime looking at it. Every square inch is perfect. Leonardo was a master at recreating facial expressions that provide a viewer with an interior reality. Each apostle's reaction to Jesus' statement that "one among us will betray me" betrays the quality of a personal relationship with Christ. The perfect position of each apostle's hand also tells a story in itself.

The right bottom corner of the table cloth is tied in a knot, because da Vinci knew that the last name he assumed (da Vinci) could be interpreted etymologically to mean "knot". As noted earlier, Leonardo was illegitimate and his father never let him use the family name, though he did see that Leonardo was brought up and apprenticed. His mother was a chambermaid, presumably a bright one.

The problem is that Leonardo painted in this masterpiece with oil on plaster rather than a doing a fresco, which would have mixed the paint into the plaster, like in the Sistine Chapel. A fresco would have been more lasting. "The Last Supper" began deteriorating within 20 years after it was finished in 1497. By 1799 it was so far gone, Napoleon used the room as a stable. Over the centuries, there have been many "refurbishings", most of them producing nothing less than a disaster. An amazing door was literally cut into the painting's wall, to make the kitchen more accessible, thus destroying "Jesus's feet" for Heaven's sake.

What is more amazing is that we have this"Last Supper" at all.

This masterpiece was restored in 1996 by a new method unknown to our guide, but the colors appear faded. But this restoration is a major blessing. It is truly a masterpiece, well worth the trepidation and suffering to get here.

Movin' On

The Duomo is filled with history but we are scheduled to see "The Last Supper" in two hours and if we are late, we miss it. So out into the rain. Around the corner, we see a statue of Leonardo and across the street is the world's most famous opera house, La Scala. Outside, La Scala is one of those "common" unmarked buildings.

There are only three disappointments on the tour, minor compared to its magnificence: not being able to spend more time with Giotto at Assisi, missing "The Pieta'" in Florence, and not being able to go inside La Scala. But life is not without its imperfections.

Inside the Duomo

During WWII, Milano was particularly hit by the bombing. Italian faithful removed the 1000s of beautiful stained glass windows to place in safe keeping. In putting the windows back in place after the war, occasionally they were placed in the wrong order. So the stories from the OT and NT are occasionally out of sequence.

Our guide was fervent and informed, and very devoted to her faith. She told us, in all seriousness about how privileged we were to be able to come into the Duomo at a very special time when the body of archbishop Borromeo was brought up from the basement and elevated above a side alter, encased in a crystal see-through coffin, surrounded by candles, wrapped in white cloth, except for the face which is covered by a silver mask. Well over a hundred faithful sitting in adoration in benches in front of this alter. This saint spends all but one week of each year below. Borromeo became Archbishop in 1571 and was responsible, more than any other single figure, for the final design of the Duomo.

Nearby was an exquisite statue of St Bartholomew, who was skinned alive. It is amazingly anatomically correct (no skin and all). Nearby our guide points to a memorial to St Pius IV done by Michelangelo's friend because Michelangelo told the Pope he was too busy to do the work himself.

At least 100 feet above the main altar is a cross with a red light casting a faint light onto the darkened ceiling. This cross is said to contain one of the original nails from the Cross of Christ. Our guide's broke with emotion as she told us that once a year the bishop rises in a hydraulic bucket ("like an angel") attached to cables to obtain the nail for display. One week later he retrieves the nail and rises again to return it. Interesting.

The Duomo In Milano

The Duomo in Milano is the third largest christian church in the world. Construction began in 1386 and took 200 years to complete. It is 1577 meters long. There are two acres of church, 3400 statues and thousands of beautiful stained glass windows. The church is said to hold 40,000.

There is a statue of Mary covered with gold on the outside of this Duomo of St. Mary. Our guide told us that the "virgin" protected the city.

Chaos and Trepidation Begin

After becoming accustomed to being led by professional guides and seeing much of the most beautiful art in the world, the tour officially ended at the Malpensa Airport and we then spent a day on our own in Milan, with the goal of placing making Leonardo DaVinci's"Last Supper" as our capstone event.

We fumbled unsuccessfully to crack the code to operate the pay phone to call our B and B for a ride from the airport. We were on a deadline to arrive in Milan by 2:00 for a tour through the worlds third largest church and to DaVinci's masterpiece, "The Last Supper". (We'd lost our cell phone in Rome.) We finally hailed a taxi, who thought the trip was too minimal for him and HE called the B and B host, who came and got us. Using the B and B's host's instructions into Milan, we navigated to the train station, 26 miles from Milan but almost took a train going the wrong way. We were saved at the last minute by a frail Italian boy whose dream was to come to America and work as a taxi driver. "I love America", he repeated over and over again. Taking the taxi from Garabaldi Station to the Duomo, we joined our three hour walking tour at the last minute in the drenching cold rain. We were already going in hyperthermia and George was feeling rotten.

This adventure felt like one of our famous canoe trips where I (Joanne) feel in danger of being perpetually lost. The walking tour was a torture. With all that said, we wouldn't trade comfort for this experience.

Lake Maggiore

There IS heaven on earth.


Looking out our balcony at Las Palmas



Las Palmas at Stressa


After Como, we continued our journey to our last stop of the tour, to Stressa, a quiet village on Lake Maggiore, in the Italian Alps. The long body of water extends to Switzerland. This is the lake Hemingway's protagonist, Fredrick, and his pregnant lover used to escape by boat from their responsibilities in Farewell to Arms.

The Hotel Palma on the lakeshore, was most comfortable. Our tour concluded with a first class dinner complimented with excellent wine. There were many interesting people on this tour, including a physicist, Peter, who help develop the MRI, an engineer and his wife from Salt Lake and an extended family from Texas, including a mother daughter pair. All together there were no real jackasses in the group, which really helped to make the tour so successful.

At dawn, before we took the bus to the Malpensa Airport in Milan we scambled to the lakeshore for one last picture. We are very happy as you can see.

To lake Como

We did not take the optional cruise on Lake Como, opting out for a lunch and stroll through the village and along the lake's edge. We opted out of seeing several villas owned by billionaires including Steve Jobs, George Clooney, and sheiks from Arabia. We also missed seeing the place where Mussolini was shot as he impersonated a soldier among a German infantry as they were trying to escaped the country.

Wow. The damage a deranged power monger can do. The people in Italy suffered perhaps as much or more than any other country in WWII from the decimations of towns, beloved churches, and art, due to that awful man's striving to build an Empire.

Observations:

We left Venice under a shroud of cloud. We rode in our Mercedes bus, a huge vehicle driven by Marisio, a very handsome Italian who resembled a young Mussolini. ( I imagine that before Mussolini practically ruined the country, he probably had a certain sex appeal.)

It was comforting watching Marisio driving this bus with the maneuvering capability of a sports car in tight places. It was also interesting watching Marisio and our guide Ricardo chatting en-route. Of note: these guys talked a lot, almost constantly at times and always passionately, when Ricardo wasn't giving us one of his magnificent mini lectures over a comfortable sound system.

It was fun watching these two guys, noting the difference between Italian males and most US males. I have never heard a group of guys in North Dakota chat passionately. Ricardo and Mariso obviously know each other and were very comfortable together. Their Italian hands were always a part of the conversation.

Another observation by Joanne: Italians seem to be petite. Small hands, very small feet. I only saw one obese person on the trip. Italians are slim and petite, for the most part. Pasta portions with their six course meals must be far less than those served at a Ground Round.

Death In Venice

George developed a nasty cold in Venice, which led him to describe it as "a pestilential city." It can have that appearance, especially when the fog is thick and the rain heavy, as it has been. George went on to recall Tomas Mann's "Death In Venice," where the protagonist, exhausted, yet with one great work still in him, comes to Venice and falls in love with a beautiful boy. Smitten, he lingers as the seasonal fever advances and all sensible tourists flee. He finishes the book (it is implied) and dies, looking at the boy, who is standing ankle-deep in the water at the beach. (At least that's George's memory of the book.)

I (George) wrote a conference paper about it, picking up on the dense, perhaps incomprehensible Apollonian / Dionysian themes and relating them to Neitsche's Birth of Tragedy". Of that paper, you could say I was in over my head.

Venice at Night

Walking through Venice at night, through the mist, past Guicci and Prada shops, past a high end art shop with a 4' by 4' portrait of a woman's face done in black and white blown glass, past the Rialto Bridge, and past St. Marcs, to the waiting water taxi at the edge of the Canal, was like encountering a fairy-tale world.

Perhaps the dog, sitting on the edge of the bow in the boat traveling behind us on our way back to our hotel knew something we didn't, but the etherial quality of the evening generated a peace that passeth understanding.

The Rialto Bridge

After our gondola ride, Ricardo led us to St. Marc's in the heavy heavy mist and then through winding streets and up narrow stairways to the unmatchable Rialto Bridge. Built in the late 1500s, the marble bridge has defied its critics to become one of the architectural icons of Venice. Compare the sturdy Rialto to a new bridge that was built recently for tourists to walk across. The new bridge separates the tour bus’ parking lot and the Grand Canal. It is serviceable but already sinking. The 500 year old Rialto is beautiful and remains in tact.

Lovers in Venice

On the first day in Venice, Ricardo took us on a wonderful walking tour after our serenade on the gondolas , as I mentioned earlier. Here is a very sweet couple on our tour, who had actually met in Venice four years ago. She is a Spanish teacher in a univerisity and he teaches in an alternative school. The magic of Venice continues to work in their hearts.

Recuperating From Hypothermia

Damp to the bone, exhausted, and fighting a respiratory virus, we took a water bus back to the Hotel Bellini and spent the afternoon reading "Tale of Two Cities" (which complimented the theme of massacring the masses we had just heard about at the Doge palace) and journaling.

The Doge Palace

Next to St. Marc's Cathedral is the Doge Palace. It was built later than the cathedral, between the 14th and 16th centuries. Notice the two pink columns among all the other white columns. Our guide told us that this is where the sentencing was proclaimed, during another bloody time in Western history. He said after the names of the condemned were read from the balcony above the symbolically red columns, the condemned were then hanged between two pillars about a 100 yards from the palace. He said locals are aware of this history, so they do not walk between these pillars, choosing instead to go around them.

We were reading "Tale of Two Cities" at the time...good companion piece.

Bridge of Sighs

We saw the Bridge of Sighs, from which Casanova spectacularly escaped in 1756, aided by a monk and a woman, a winning combination. The Bridge of Sighs connects the Doge Palace to the prison. The condemned had to cross this bridge usually after being tortured in the "Room of Torments", an adjacent prison. On the prison walls, you can still see the prisoner's dramatic messages.

Gold Mosaics

Saint Mark is said to be buried behind the main alter. The church holds 2 acres and five domes of magnificent gold Byzantine mosaic art. During Venice's prime time, as shippers of goods and soldiers to the Holy Land, she was amassing lots of gold and she used it, in part to build this cathedral over 350 years. There is more gold here than at St. Peter's. Above the entry to the main altar are twelve stunning statues, possibly of wood, of the twelve apostles it was a stunning combination of Middle Eastern and Roman architecture.

The mosaic marble floor was buckling into waves of marble mosaics under the swelling ocean tide over the last nine centuries, but there is not a crack in the marble.

Last weeks high tide caused pilgrims to stand in clod water eighteen inches deep as they waited to enter the church. Venice is in BIG trouble as a result of global warming and rising tides. I don't think pilgrims will even be blest to see St. Marc's in a hundred years.

Inside St.Marc's Cathedral

The marble floor inside St. Marc's is literally upheaving and sinking into the mud and undulates like waves in the surrounding ocean. Joanne was so affected by this undulation that she undulated for a week, "seeing" the mirage of floors rising to meet her in airports, along cobbled streets, and even in the cathedral in Milan, rising and falling with rhythm of the sea.

St. Marc's Cathedral

We are water taxied through the grand canal to meet our guide near St.Marc's Catherdral. By this time George is good and sick from the aches and pains of a cold. It is cold and pouring. The 20; minute walk in the rain and the 20 minute drenching wait outside the church were well worth it. Again, numb with cold, and unprepared, we find it stunning. There are two acres of mosaics. Every square foot is covered with colored Tessera, some of them with 18 to 24 carat gold. It brought to life Yeats. two Bazantium poems, which pay homage to the artificial, "a painted bird to keep a drowsy emperor awake", in contrast to the savage unruliness of nature, "the dolphin-torn, the gong-tormented sea". I (George) would put it as a high point so far, along with the church at Orvieto, Though they were entirely different in style, they moved me in similar ways. We would have gladly spent the afternoon there, but we were damp to the bone, exhausted.

Murano Glass Factory

On this cold and very rainy day, we were transported by water taxi to the island of Murano to the famous glass blowing factory. So what, you might say. All Joanne had known about glass blowing was the fragile little animal trinkets sold at fairground concessions. But in Murano, we sat on bleachers in a factory that has been in operation for a very long time and watched one of the few artist left in Murano create art from the living molten glass. We were then led into one of several well lit rooms where hundreds of Murano vases, tea sets, goblets and figurines sparkled in the light. I (Joanne) crumbled. I have a deep seated policy not to shop on a trip like this. The expense of the trip alone is more than I can handle. I usually buy one little thing to remember the trip, but that's it. However, if you know about my passion for cooking and serving good food, you must realize it would be deeply tempting for me to spring for a piece of Murano glass. Initially I resisted the temptation.

We moved through five rooms of this art. One sculpture called "the Family" consisting of an 18 inch slab of glass about five inches wide. Emerging from this multi colored slab was the head and breasts of a woman with two children at her side. There was no male figure. The light reflected a different earthen color arrangement from every angle. Janice and I were deeply, deeply moved, and I still fantasize calling up Mruano Glass and asking them to ship "The Family" to me.

In another room, we did purchase a set of small fish for some very dear friends. And then on to the last room of goblets and precious serving pieces. There, it was. A smaller version of a goblet with six glasses, with a 24 carat gold skyline of Venice fired into the deep blue set, each piece one of a kind. The salesman knew I was folding and cut the price by 1/3. My feet and heart began to wobble. George put out his credit card. And we own this beautiful piece of art, that I look at every day and think of Mystical, Sinking Venice, in all its beauty.

Mystical Venice

The whole city, this night, in a mist that grows thicker as we make our way by gondola with an accordion player and a tenor and a gondolier with the customary stripped shirt, directly out of central casting, to St Mark's Square. Saint Mark's Church on this site, from the 700s, was consecrated in 1096 and continuously decorated for 350 years. We will be blest with a tour of this beautiful and very amazing church in the morning.


To the left, as you face the church, is a famous clock with the zodiac signs surrounding Roman numbers, 1-24. Two bronze figures, it is said, strike the bells at the top of the tower, though we did not see them actually move. There is a brick bell tower, 300 feet high. It fell down in 1902 but was immediately rebuilt by a miracle of the Virgin (no, only kidding).

Struggling Venice

The high tides, documented back to the 6th century are getting worse. Forty or more times each winter the squares and sidewalks are flooded with a foot to 18 inches of water. Walking planks, set on short scaffolding, has become an all too common way of getting around in certain squares in Venice. These planks are stored everywhere when water is down.

We were told that all sewage flows into the canal, though now people are required to have a septic tanks in their basements which holds the solids long enough for them to liquify. Luckily the 2 to 3 feet high tides, come every six hours and flush out the lagoon. In the past Venice had the reputation of stinking, but the water had no odor and looked cleaner then say, Puget Sound.

The city is declining for many reasons, not the least of which is the rising tide and the constant battle to rise above it. It is also very expensive to live in Venice. The population os now 80,000, down from 120,000 twenty years ago.

Gondola Ride through the "streets" of Venice

We were given a gondola ride through the narrow waterways in old Venice, and, believe it or not, we were serenaded by an Italian singer. Too romantic.

Addendum to the tour at the Uffizi:

peering through his fingers in despair


Last Judgment by Michelangelo


Birth of Venus by Bottecelli

Additional thoughts: At the Uffizi, Ricardo II pointed out the look of melancholy on the face of Bottecelli's Venus as she rises from the sea, even as she is being carried toward land by the Zeyphers. She appears sad, because, says Ricardo, the Renaissance, even as it rode the crest of learning into a new and self-confident age, knew all things would pass away. Then he quoted a poem written by Lorenzo de Medici, which also appears in George Eliot's "Romolo" as a song sung by Tito to wake Nello, the literate barber. Ricardo's translation is better, but here is the footnote that translates Eliot's version:

Beauteous is life in blossom
But it fleeth - fleeth - fleeth ever.
Whoever would be joyful, let him.
There is no surety for the morrow.

Later, looking at a closeup of the David's gaze in the guide book, and prompted by Ricardo's insight, I see something besides alertness and self-confidence. I see something very natural and at the same time symbolic. I see fear. Could that note of apprehension be related to the melancholy on Venus' face? Could Michelangelo at 26 have seen the "dark side" of the Renaissance as Keats did the dark side of Romanticism? (Keat's died at 26.) Could Michelangelo have seen how easily self-confidence can turn to pride? The idea that man is the measure of all things can be a dangerous and even fatal turning away from the fear of God.

The Hebrew scriptures declare fear is the beginning of wisdom. This is practically the whole theme of Eliot's Romolo, which I am still reading here in Venice. Her determination to dump into the novel all the fruits of her exhaustive research marrs the novel, yes, but I scarcely know of a wiser book or more luminous passages than appear on pages 179-182 of the Modern Library Edition. Here we see Tito, quivering with Renaissance excitement, sowing the seeds of Romola's unhappiness, and perhaps his own. To the surprise of everyone who knows only the stereotype of the Savanarola, she paints an almost sympathetic picture of the zealous monk who warned against the excesses of materialism and self confidence. But Michelangelo, too, listened to Savanarola and I will venture, put some of what he heard into the "Last judgment", painted twenty years later in the Sistine Chapel. The seated figure midway up that work, peeking through his fingers in despair, knows that man is not the measure of all things. His face, perhaps, completes the gaze of David.

Venice

We never had Venice on our Bucket list. It should have been. Gladly, it was just included in our tour. It is a beautiful city sinking into the sea.

Brief History of Venice

History: Prior to the 7 and 8th centuries, the area which is now Venice was essentially a muddy lagoon comprising over a hundred islands. In this area, there were no mountains or even hills for Romans escape to from the invading hoards. So the fleeing Romans had to go to plan B: to escape from the invaders, they set up huts on muddy the lagoons where they lived in poverty for centuries.

In Europe, during the early crusades to 200 thousand soldiers traveled by foot towards Jerusalem during the first three Crusades. Most of them died along the way. Slowly, Venice had begun to build ships to transport goods from the Middle East. By the 1200s, the fourth crusade had begun and Venice had became a prospering sea port as well as a central point for transporting crusaders to the Holy Land. They soon began to control shipping in the Mediterranean Sea. This was their new niche. And they prospered mightily. This was the golden age for Venice, when she built St. Mark's Church. You will see more of that later.

In 1797 that awful Napoleon conquered Venice and did lots of damage. They rousted him out. He came back. Instead of killing him the second time, they put him on one of their islands to die, which he did.

In 1866, Italy finally freed herself from another conqueror, the Austrians who had previously conquered most of Europe including Venice and all of Italy.

Stats

The Romans built over 25 thousands miles of roads in the 1st century A.D. Their empire stretched all around the Mediterranean. Julius Caesar went as far north as England and as far south as Greece.

Beginning Day 13: Sante Gimignino

I keeping with Grand European tour of providing interesting side tours along the way, we visit a small medieval town on our way to Venice. It is in Tuscany, just a few miles from "Bono's home and his 60 children", according to Ricardo. As mentioned earlier, when the Romans were nolonger safe because of the hairy "barbarian" invaders, they sought higher ground. Thus Sante' Gimignino still resting on top of a hill in what is now Tuscany. The village still has several narrow "skyscraper" apartments rising above the with narrow slits in the walls for former residents to peer through to remain vigilant against their enemies.

Joanne purchased five calendars with pictures of "David" for family, particularly August the artist, who will really be appreciative.

End Of Day 12

We had been walking on cobbled streets in the most beautiful city in the world for about nine hours. Isn't it wonderful that we had the stamina and good health to do so? We had seen some of the worlds greatest art, visited churches, shops and museums and had not even purchased so much as a bauble. We had eaten simply (margarita pizza) and we walking the last mile to our hotel along the river at dusk. To say it was too much in an understatement.

Meat factory

The Medici family had a villa across the river from their offices (the Uffizi). They had to cross the river each morning on their way to work, making millions with their banking endeavors and hedge funds. On the bridges were shops, particularly meat markets, who customarily threw their "left overs" in the river. The Medici preferred something more civilized to the audacious smelly enterprise and threw out all meat markets on the bridges but one. Here is is, though it is not meat market any longer.

Just a Few Masterpieces

Just look at what you run into at the Piazza near the corner of the Uffizi.

Dante, Michelangelo and Leonardo da Vince

Dante, Michelangelo and Leonardo da Vince all lived in Florence and walked on the same streets and often the same stones we are walking on today. (Joanne) My feet hurt like hell but how can one complain, having been given the opportunity to come to Florence and walk on the same stones that some of the greatest artists in the world have walked on.

What Does Anything mean? The final Answer

There is the possibility to carry this experience forward, to use it in my preaching, teaching and writing. but nothing means anything except as it is connected by a disciplined will and through grace, to the love of God and mercy of Christ, which cannot always be done immediately.

If I cannot say exactly and fully what it means to have stood in the presence of a Donatello sculpture or a Giotto Fresco or a great cathedral designed by a genius and built with the sweat of several thousands of anonymous workers, then I can at least keep the question open, I can go on looking and stay alert for answers as they are revealed.

What Does It All Mean?

How do we justify the expense of coming to Italy for Art? In what sense are we better for having seen these marvels? Better than what? There will plenty of people ready to call me "sick" for even raising such questions.

"For God's sake, George, can't you for once just enjoy yourself?"

Yes, but what if I enjoy raising the questions? What if the years I tried to not raise them and just enjoy life were the most miserable of my existence?

Epicurianism is legitimate. I cannot will away my speculative machinery. I cannot escape shaping or trying to shape my experience into some coherent whole.

And therefore, I do think and I conclude that one higher purpose of a trip like this is to honor the blessing of my 30 years of marriage to Joanne. This is an anniversary trip, a chance to celebrate our life together, to pay a kind of tribute to whatever forces brought us together, to recognize that gift in some way and say thanks for it.

You Only Go Around Once

You only go around once and along the way you miss a lot. The Raphael's in the Palatine Gallery, the Masaccio's in the Cappella Branacci and on and on. Well, let it go. we've seen a lot more than we could have in an equivalent amount of time on our own. It will all be present, presumably at the last judgment, and then we'll have plenty of time to go back to what we missed.

Billboard Missing

The history behind the Duomo is very wonderful, though when I consult even a basic guide book for spellings etc, I see dozens of immortal things we have not seen. Within a stone’s thow across the street from this cathedral is Donatello's David and Michelangelo's unfinished Pieta. This small museum's entrance has a small plaque above a door with museum hours. It does not mention the marvelous contents inside. We make our was to this museum when we read about it in the guide book, only to realize this museum closed at 1:00. Darn. This Michelangelo’s Pieta’ has a masculine figure or Joseph, perhaps portraying Michelangelo himself. FYI, if you ever make it to this place, the museum is called The Museum of the Opera Del Duomo.

Ghiberti, the Door of Paradise

Ghiberti's Gold Doors. Across the street from the Duomo is the Baptistry, with what is now a copy of the Door of Paradise. The original door were cast from a gold by the goldsmith and sculptor Ghiberti and (later) his son. It took 27 years to complete. After Ghiberti completed the first one, he asked himself what he was going to do with his time and he thought it was time to begin another door. After a flood in 1966, the original door was transported to the Museum of the Opera del Duomo across the street on the other side of the Duomo. This is truly beautiful. Ghiberti is one of the 300 memorables buried in Santa Croce.

Just Another David

In front of the Duomo was another copy of the David, said to be a precise replica made from marble dust and resin. You can never get too many David's especially perfect replicas. It was being boxed up in order to be transported to the Uffizi. Alas.

On Our Own, Back to the Santa Maria Del Fiori

Brunelleschi' Dome

After lunch of Margarita Pizza (yum) we made our way back to the Santa Maria Del Fiori, also called the Duomo where we spent more time meditating on Burnellischi's dome, the Giotto Bell Tower (1334) and the Ghiberti Bronze Doors.

The tower, the baptistry and the huge cathedral are all elaborately faced in three colors of marble: white carrara, red of San Giusto and green of Monte Ferrato. Brunelleschi was an obscure jack of all trades when he solved the problem of putting a dome atop the 140 foot span of the Duomo. The cathedral was designed to be the largest in the world, at time in competition with St. Peters'. It had been constructed up to the part where the dome was to be added without a clear idea of how to do that, though it was clear the usual method of scaffolding would not carry to the top of the 180 foot dome envisioned, because the scaffolding would collapse of its own weight. Brunelleschi's idea was to build TWO domes, one inside the other, connecting them with ribs in each of the eight exterior panels which are, incredibly faced with marble. It was completed in 1436.