Venice and Roma

Before I was to meet my group to take a water bus out to Murano to see the glass blowing factories, I sat down by the waterfront to have lunch. Every morning during this time of year, the high tides spill over the coast and slowly fill up San Marcos’ Square. I had to slosh through this on my way to the waterfront. While the flooded square makes a gorgeous and unique site, the wet shoes that accompany it are less than desirable. I digress, my lunch was the remains of my cheese feast from the night before, sans wine of course (it was only one, and who would assume any was left…). I was unable to enjoy my meal in solitude though and I ended up sharing my bread rolls with some flying rats. I have gotten used to using the public transit in both Athens and Rome; the public transit in Venice is quite different. Instead of packed on a metro or bus, I had the spray of the Venetian harbor wetting my face through an open window. After a short ride I arrived in Murano where I watched a glass horse blown and constructed in a matter of moments; true craftsmanship although utterly worthless to me. I explored the back side of the small island and was pleased to find open areas and a real park with grass. If I had a disc, it would have been the perfect place to play! Walking back, I was able to catch some great shots of the sun setting. It was only appropriate that I said goodbye to Venice in the midst of another torrential downpour. But my exploring was far from over, and I looked with grateful anticipation on the many sights I will get to see in Roma. I have a great map of Roma that shows many of the points of interest. With the bus/metro pass I have, I am systematically going to most of the locations. Today, before class at San Clemente and San Giovanni, I walked past the Mausoleum of Augustus; and after class past the Coliseum and the Circo Maximo towards the ancient city walls of Rome, all the time walking along the same road that conquering generals and emperors would enter the city and at whose end lies the Triumphal arch of Constantine. I had lunch on the Spanish Steps, and the night before enjoyed a Guinness at Piazza Venezia under the auspicious shadows of the ‘birthday cake’ (really the Monumento a Vittorio Emmanuele II; a 20th century monument designed in the classical fashion that many snobby Romans think is in poor taste. I personally enjoy it). There are many things to see in this vast city, and I will do my best to take it all in. One thing is for sure, I will know this city very well before my 6 weeks are up.

Venice

It was a five hour train ride from Roma to Venezia (Venice) stopping in Firenze (Florence) and Bologna. Arriving in the early-afternoon, we would need to wait a couple hours till we could check in to our hostel. As the skies let fall in a drizzle, I embarked on my own to find San Marcos Piazza. It did not take long at all to lose myself in the labyrinth that is Venice. This achieved my main goal though, and I found myself far off the beaten path.

The rain began to increase and so I took refuge in a small internet café where I was able to give last minute instructions to my fiancée who was registering me for classes next semester and I was able to show her, via webcam, the rain soaked Venetian street behind me. It should be known the title, Venetian streets, is a misnomer. The streets are actually sidewalks, and the avenues for transport are canals. (I got all the classes I wanted: Astronomy, Microeconomics, Moral Philosophy, Analytic Philosophers, and Metaphysics {replacing Philosophy of Law which was cancelled due to lack of interest}) When I did find Saint Mark’s Square, I was soaked through and looking forward to the hostel and a warm shower. After my friends and I freshened up and changed clothes, we went out into the night trying to find food and spirits. Armed first with wine, we continued our search for food. I decided upon cheese. I stopped in a small cheese store where I bought ten Euros worth of cheese; choosing an assortment of local cheeses and what the shop keep suggested. Rounding out my meal of wine and cheese was a loaf of bread. It was a feast! Sated and content, I left my hostel again to try and find what there is to do on a Venetian Wednesday night. I talked to some locals, and even helped a lost American student find her spot on the map (that was the extent of the help I could offer, it is a confusing city). Finally, I enjoyed a conversation with some police officers who were glad to help me and offered suggestions for young kid hang out spots that I might want to check out. Finally, in all the many wanderings I had that day, I could not help but notice one truth about Venice. What they say about Venice and romance is entirely true. Seeing couples in gondolas, or leaning close over a plate of pasta, or hand in hand watching the rain fall onto the breaking waves of the Adriatic coast I could not help but feel homesick for Amanda; I could not help but dream of the European adventures in store for us and the many experience we will share in the future. So, all in all, while Venice is romantic it can be direly depressing and lonely. There is a lot more to see in Venice than canals and necking couples though. We spent our next morning touring the museums of San Marcos as well as the Dogo Palace. Pictures are much easier sometimes, so I include a couple. But I will say that in Italy, I have now seen that ostentatious displays of wealth are not resigned solely to churches. Money and power, together, apparently always equals unnecessary demonstrations of those traits. Even so, there were some amazing pieces of art and sculpture done in both the name of religion and in the name of luxury.

These are two of my favorite pieces I saw while in Venice. The sculpture is Daedulus and Icharus. The painting is a eerie portrayal of the Pieta.

Roma

Our first full day in Rome was to be used following one of our teachers around on a walking tour of the City Center. While I have seen Rome before, it was great to walk around with an art professor and learn more about art around the area. The night before I had made my way to the Pantheon, which was my favorite spot last time I was in Rome. The restorative scaffolding that was there 4 years prior was now gone. It was more amazing than I remember. The day our class went, the skies were dumping its contents on us. Birds were floating on the gentle air between buildings, effortlessly. As the storm waned and waxed the drizzle would at times float listlessly to the ground. Once inside the Pantheon, we were still not free from the rain. The oculus in the center of its massive dome allowed the elements access to people and marble below. The floor was sleek and slippery, but looking up I could see the dark clouds and the water, falling through a two millennia old pagan temple, wet my face and I was happy because of it.

In the streets that day, thousands or students and citizens, but mostly young students, filled the streets and the piazzas. Not just a main street or two, they were everywhere. They were protesting the government’s reduction in educational spending and their discussion of privatizing college education. Whether it was the righteousness of their cause, the dreary, wet energy of the day, or simply my revolutionary tendencies, I could not help but be filled with an intense desire to join in their struggle. My fists belong clutched and pounding the air. My lungs need to breathe the fiery hot chants of justified revolt. My body needs to submit to the flow of a peaceful demonstration moving through streets regardless of weather and gaining nothing but momentum and power and people. I was dismayed at the feelings flooding over me. As we continued our walk and the crowds grew fewer, the emotions I was feeling subsided and I was left with a slightly empty feeling. Maybe revolutionary activity is in my future… (but peaceful, of course) Our apartment in Rome is a nice place and only two blocks from St. Peter’s Square. On the way home from out first day of tours and classes, still sopping wet from the rain, I couldn’t help but postpone my dinner a little longer and go have a look at the sun set over St. Peter’s dome. The square was empty because of the rain and I was able to snap some excellent photos. While our lodging in Rome is in a great location and they have great hardwood floors, it is 30 minutes from where our classes are and has no internet access. The only way I can check emails or post is by using an internet café a 7 minute walk from here. So, my posting might come sporadically and when they do, there might be many of them. We leave for Venice tomorrow morning and I cannot wait!

Hello Acropolis, Goodbye Athens

The day after my ankle injury, my history class went on an excursion to the acropolis. The long walk there and the steep terrain made it an impossible trip for me to make. Fortunately, my instructors purchased a ticket to the acropolis for me so that I would be to go when I found the time. Busy with group excursions and saying good bye to friends and packing for the transfer to Rome, I found my time quickly running out. The day before I was to leave Athens, I woke up early and set off for the centerpiece of Athenian history. For the walk over, I serenaded myself with Mozart’s Requiem. This seemed all together fitting and proper, especially as the great hill rose larger and larger in my sights. Music truly can be the perfect accent to an experience, and since I was making this trek by myself it worked very nicely. As would be expected, the entrance to the acropolis was choked with hundreds of tourists. American’s in Nike t-shirts that bloom plumply at their rotund bellies. The Asian tourists whose cameras dangle always around their necks like ornamental offerings to a Samsung god. And swirling through the air, beaten together into a rich Babelic cacophony was the conversations of every language imaginable. It was a windy day and on top of the hill (acropolis means the high point of the city) and the wind was pressing clothes to the skin like wet drapery. My hair was flowing and the wind whistled into one ear mixing with the entire rabble and contrasting to the music playing through a small ear bud headphone in the other ear; now listening to Mozart’s string concerto. The Parthenon, completed in 432 BC, was constructed either as a temple to Athena or was the new Treasury of the Athenian empire after it dissolved the Delian League and moved its riches to Athens. In the seventeenth century, the occupying Turks housed munitions in it. Until this point, the Parthenon maintained much of its ancient glory. An explosion set off the munitions stored in the temple, and the shattered shell of a once breath stopping sight are what remain as result for us now. I saw sitting in the grass around the steps of the western façade of the Parthenon a broken brass canon. While I cannot be for sure that this is a remnant of the Turkish firepower housed here that caused its destruction, I feel that it served as a perfect contrast; and it made a sweet ass picture. In the foreground we see the dark colors of a device of war which contrasts with the white marble of a temple for the goddess of Wisdom. Further, the history tells us that it was because of the oppressive and censuring government of a military rule that beauty and art and architecture of an ancient civilization are lost forever. While this picture does not show it, the canon is cracked down the middle. Its reign of hate and war is rusting and broken, resigned to sit, lost in the weeds at the feet of the temple it destroyed. But rising from that, is the perpetual emblem of Greece. Broken and battered, but not destroyed, its perseverance reminds us that art and beauty will always be a stronger power than hate mongering. Finally, being that high in a low lying valley, your view is truly superb. I could see on the slopes of the hill and the Hephastion. I could see the Theatre of Dionysus and the Herodian Theatre. Further I could see Lyvettikos hill and the stretching sea of white homes that comprise Athens. In the distance, as the fast wind blew the smog and haze from the horizon, I could see the Port of Piraeus and massive ships waiting but looking like tiny paper vessels placed in puddle of water formed after a recent storm. It was proper that I say goodbye to Athens with my solitary trip to its most famed site. I was content with Athens, and while I had made some new friends and some close friends, I was ecstatic to begin the truly Roman chapter of my Roamin Ruminations.