PMA Lecture Dates

The dates for the lectures about H.P. at the Philadelphia Museum of Art are Thursday, March 13 and Saturday, March 15. The talk will run about 55 minutes and I will show a great number of images.

Philadelphia Museum of Art Lecture

I will be giving two lectures (same lecture twice) at the Philadelphia Museum of Art in March in connection with the Frida Kahlo exhibition. I will be discussing the ballet H.P. as part of a PMA art history course on Mexican Modernism.

Frida Kahlo-Littlefield Connection

I just read that the Philadelphia Museum of Art will host a major exhibition of Frida Kahlo's work next spring. In 1932 Frida, married for two years to Diego Rivera, came to Philadelphia to help promote H.P., a modernist ballet about U.S.-Mexican relations for which Rivera designed the costumes and scenery. Though she didn't talk much, everyone was taken by her exotic appearance--the clunky beaded necklaces and colorful flouncy skirts. At 90 pounds, she was dwarfed by her rotund mate. Littlefield created the dances for H.P.--it was her debut as choreographer.

Out of the Gate

My two sons, ages 14 and 12, returned to school just after Labor Day. Since then, I've been organizing my little study (my space needs to be clear in order for me to think!) and prioritizing Littlefield tasks. I launched a Catherine Littlefield webpage and the blog you're reading right now, thinking that Catherine deserves some presence on the web. There's always reading to be done, but yesterday I shifted gears and began writing an abstract for a dance conference next spring. Details to come. Right now I need to work.

Goodbye Rome, Hello Catherine!

Let this posting serve as a transition from my first blog, which chronicled our family's four-month stay in Rome, to my new blog, which will encompass information and musings about Catherine Littlefield and the research I have been conducting for the last 15 years. I changed the blog's, address, title, and design, but I couldn't bear to delete the old postings, which stand as a record of our Roman adventure. Someday I'll want to go back and read it through, and so will my boys. So, if you're here because of Catherine Littlefield, feel free to stop now. Or go on to an entirely new subject.

Stephen's Top 5

1. The Colosseum. With more than three-quarters still remaining it is not difficult to imagine
how it was back then.
2. My rounds. Well, that is what I call them. What I do is I walk around the apartment grounds, maybe to the playground or to see who's around. What I like doing best is dodging and hiding from the "Evil Lady" and her "Evil Dog Sidekick." I know what you are thinking, "who are they?" Well, one day I was in the playground swinging a baseball bat (more or less a stick), and she must have thought I was hitting the tree because she started screaming at me like I had just pushed her dog off the edge of a cliff!
3. The Bay of Naples view. It is so pretty when you are standing on a cliff basically looking over the bay. Once, at night, we were eating dinner at a restaurant looking over the bay when all of a sudden fireworks went up in the air.
4. Ostia and Pompeii. The whole towns survived! It is too much to take in.
5. Making movies of all our adventures. Be sure to watch them!

Carter's Top 5

1. Vatican Museums- great Etruscan, Egyptian, Roman, and art collections. Raphael's School of Athens combines all of the Greek philosophers into one scene. Portraits of Raphael's contemporaries include Da Vinci (Plato) and Michelangelo (Heraclitus). Sistine Chapel- figures seem to jump out of wall. Also has good frescoes by others.
2. Naples Archeological Museum- most of the art from Pompeii and Herculaneum along with some stuff from Rome. Alexander the Great mosaic (in all books about him) and other famous mosaics and frescoes are here.
3. Caravaggios in churches- walk into a church for free and see one or two (or three) amazing pieces of artwork. It isn't overwhelming like a museum. Best two- Madonna of the Pilgrims- male pilgrims has dirty feet. Crucifixion of Peter- a line zig-zags all the way from the feet of a Roman to the rope which is lifting up the cross. Peter has a good expression.
4. Ostia Antica- port of ancient Rome, covered by silt and sand, this is a small intact town with great mosaics and the ancient "Wall Street." You can walk into all of the ancient houses and buildings. Also contains ancient public toilets.
5. Galleria Borghese- contains almost all of Bernini's masterpieces. A couple of Raphaels and numerous Caravaggios. My favorite is Raphael's Deposition of Christ. Each figure has a unique personality. Amazing color too.

Naples and Our Top Sites

My expectations for Naples were low, based on a very brief trip there previously as well as reports in guidebooks, etc. However, we had a marvelous time, mainly owing to the hospitality of an Italian economics professor who lent us his apartment on the Bay of Naples and who hired a driver to take us to Pompeii. The ruins at Pompeii are much larger than those at Ostia and much more crowded. Oddly, most of the gems discovered in Pompeii such as mosaics and glassware were removed and are now in the Archaeological Museum of Naples, which many people bypass. This museum was a highlight for all of us, another underappreciated site. As we approach the end of our trip, we've decided to list our top five sites/events/experiences individually. I'll go first; you'll hear from the other three Skeels in the coming days.

Sharon's Top Five (not really in order)
1. Beethoven's Ninth Symphony conducted by Lorin Maazel on Easter Day near the Vatican
2. Sant'Ivo alla Sapienza, an extraordinary Baroque church designed by Borromini
3. Bay of Naples
4. Three Caravaggios: Crucifixion of St. Peter, Conversion of St. Paul and St. Matthew and the Angel
5. Ruins at Ostia Antica -- these were good the first time we saw them and they are still good.
Honorable mention: San Clemente Church, Sistine Chapel, Rite of Spring ballet, the flowers, fabrics and food.

It goes without saying that we enjoyed immensely dinners with our American visitors. Thanks so much for coming!

Books

Responding to Sylvia's comment, we have discovered Caroline Lawrence's books--they are sold in all the English bookstores here. Because we have no television to speak of, both boys have become genuine readers. Stephen is now devouring Gilbert Morris's "The Seven Sleeper Series," which we checked out of the church library. He would read more of Lawrence's books but they are very expensive here, so he'll have to wait until he gets home. Also popular with both our boys is the Chip Hilton sports series by Coach Clair Bee. As a result of this trip, David and I are considering removing our television from the living room when we return.

May Day

My parents' trip lasted one week and during that time the Italians celebrated two separate holidays--April 28, which commemorates liberation from Fascism, and May Day, the Italian version of Labor Day. Throw in a Sunday and a Monday link to a Tuesday holiday and you have five out of seven days which were atypical, meaning we were not sure whether shops and landmarks would be open or closed. By Monday we saw all we wanted to see except Ostia Antica, the ruins of an ancient Roman port town about 30 minutes outside the city. But would it be open on Tuesday--May Day--the last day of their trip? Two guidebooks said no but the hotel concierge thought yes. His attempt to call came too late on Monday, so we planned to phone again Tuesday morning. Meanwhile, we made made a list of other things to do. (While traveling or living abroad, it's more important to be flexible than fit or smart. You need to have a Plan B, and in Italy you need to have Plans B, C and D.) Turned out that Ostia was indeed open on May Day and we spent a wonderful four hours exploring there. Afterwards, we headed to a particular restaurant, conveniently located on the route home. We arrived before six, however, and Italian restaurants open no earlier than seven. The neighborhood was empty and dark, but there was the chef, sitting outside, and despite the early hour, his wife beckoned us to a table. This was perhaps the earliest dinner ever consumed in Rome and proves that sometimes the Italians' maddening, fluid methods work to your benefit.

Mom and Dad in Rome

My parents arrived last Wednesday and are demonstrating extraordinary stamina. Just hours after landing, Mom was sampling water from a public drinking fountain. These fountains resemble fire hydrants and are rather dirty-looking, but the water is clean and the Romans love it. Dad remained wary, cautioning Mom "not to drink too much." Glad to report that Mom is still alive. They've seen the Colosseum, the Roman Forum, the Sistine Chapel and many churches, listening very patiently to our long commentaries. On Saturday we visited Orvieto, a walled hill-town an hour north of Rome. (Ask them about the eventful train ride there.) Dad especially likes the Italian soups.

Baseball, Italian Style

Carter and Stephen played in their first official Italian baseball game last Saturday. The parents built the field themselves, despite complaints by neighbors who wanted a soccer field instead. Baseball is not common here and the Italians who play it are renegades. But they know what they're doing and the boys love it. David and I felt as if we were watching a game back home...almost. Inning one was interrupted by a dog on the field, which ran about for some time before his owner corralled him. We could hear someone playing an accordion in the distance. Our coach moved equipment with one hand while holding a cigarette in the other. And when the score tightened, the fans began cheering wildly, "Die, Die, Die Bartolo! Die, Die Marco!" And this to the boys they were rooting for! We might use this cheer back in Lower Gwynedd and see how it goes over.

(According to the Italian dictionary, "dai" means "come on" or "go on." So it makes perfect sense, if you're Italian.)

Gypsies

Walk into an historic church or through any heavily trafficked area for that matter and you're likely to encounter a gypsy woman begging. Sometimes she will be hunched over with her forehead to the ground, arms outstretched with hands together in prayer, murmuring. Always there is a basket for coins nearby. A young gypsy woman sits by our supermarket entrance with her daughter nearly everyday. The little girl colors, looks through the glass door or eats food people give her while her mother just sits for hours. I've seen the mother get off the bus and walk to her spot, as if commuting to work. She is very attractive and appears healthy as an ox. I think to myself, why don't you knit or help people with their groceries or do something? Isn't it boring just sitting there all day? We've seen one old gypsy outside a church begging while talking on her cell phone. They can be prostrate and moaning one minute and an instant later, spry as can be, they scurry off. There seems to be a subgroup of musical gypsies who jump on trams, strum their guitars and sing for a stop or two, then jump off after passing around the basket. On one metro a tiny boy strolled down the aisle with a self-playing accordion. Carter and Stephen were somewhat offended that he wasn't actually playing the accordion for his money. Most troubling is how the gypsies exploit their children in this way. We've been told that their culture is based on cheating, stealing and begging. I've seen people give them coins and food and the Italians seem to tolerate them. What is the appropriate Christian response?

Il Casale del Ginepro

A few years ago Davide and Cristina sold their antique shop near Piazza Navona in the center of Rome and bought an 1830 farmhouse in the Umbrian countryside. They diligently restored it and plan to open a bed and breakfast, called Il Casale del Ginepro (Farmhouse among the Junipers), this summer. We spent a wonderful three days visiting them there, taking side trips to Assisi (our favorite town in all of Italy), Perugia and Deruta, which is known for its pottery. Cristina and Giovanna prepared pork roast, lasagna, spaghetti and meatballs (by request), artichokes, homemade salami and a special pie made of grain (we don't know what this was but it was delicious). The stone house has four guest rooms and sits on 2.5 hectares filled with olive and juniper trees. Davide and Cristina speak English, Portuguese, French and German and are gracious, interesting hosts. Ideally, guests would have a rental car and be comfortable around dogs, since Davide and Cristina own three German shepherds. Please contact me if you'd like more details!

Homeschooling

Generally homeschooling has gone better than I expected (thank you to Silvia, Jen and others who have been praying). On a typical weekday, David leaves the apartment early, I get up, have coffee, check email and do a few chores before the boys awake. They eat breakfast and try to start schoolwork by about 9 a.m., which seems late but we usually go to bed later here than at home. We try to put in at least three hours of work. Both boys do math almost everyday, which David corrects. Some days Carter teaches Stephen Latin (for pay) and two afternoons a week a Dartmouth student comes to the apartment to tutor Italian. I'm overseeing a few literature and writing projects. Some subjects we've put off until we get home, such as science and Carter's Latin. The boys have been for the most part cooperative, though Carter resists cello and Stephen is often distracted by the people, cats and dogs in the complex. It's also difficult to teach in this small space because everybody hears everybody's conversations, so concentration is futile. Of course the field trips are wonderful and really everyday in a foreign culture is a learning experience. In a few hours we leave for Perugia to visit Giovanna and her daughter Cristina and son-in-law Davide. They own a farm there.

Freude

As throngs headed toward St. Peter's Square this sunlit Easter, we walked in the opposite direction, to a concert hall at the other end of the street to hear Beethoven's 9th Symphony. The bass opened the choral section with one majestic word, "Freude," which means joy in German. I was relieved the symphony would not be sung in Italian, as that would diminish its power. It is one of my favorite works, sublime I think, and altogether appropriate for Easter. Lorin Maazel conducted in a modest, clear, workmanlike style, impressive considering the disparate groups under his direction. This concert followed a sunrise service high on a Borghese Park overlook. For once Rome was not busy or noisy. We even heard church bells ringing. Yesterday we saw the Catacombs of St. Domitilla. Contrary to popular belief, Christians didn't hide in catacombs to avoid Roman persecution but rather used them as burial places. These particular catacombs contained a spacious 3rd-century church, almost completely submerged, and one of the first depictions of Jesus.

Another Vote (David) for Caravaggio

For some reason, I've found the disconnect between the actual events described in Scripture, on the one hand, and, on the other, their portrayal in Renaissance art (the elaborate costumes at the Cross, the zebra-striped palace where the Annunciation occurs), more offputting this winter than on our previous visits to Italy. Caravaggio is the one consistent exception. The painting that blows me away more than any of the other wonderful Caravaggios (even more than than the Crucifixion of Peter and the Conversion of St. Paul, our previous favorites) is the Madonna of the Pilgrims, which Carter nicely described a few posts ago. There's something about the contrast between Mary's elegant maroon velvet dress and the pilgrim's dirty feet that seems intensely spiritual-- and it's perfect in its niche inside a quiet lovely church just a few feet way from the crowded Piazza Navona. Caravaggio was rebelling, apparently, against the exalted tone of prior religious art. Some people think he goes too far in the other direction, that he overly humanizes Scripture, but he seems to me to beautifully capture the spirit of the Savior who came to save the sick, not the healthy.

Menorah in Arch of Titus

A Day in Ruins

Because we purchased certain discount cards, we visited the Colosseum, Palatine Hill and the Roman Forum all in one day. These ruins completely amazed me when I first saw them in 1992. Here I was walking on paths trod by Augustus Caesar perhaps...or Peter...or Paul! That giddiness has given way to a more thorough understanding of what I'm looking at, thanks to reading we have been doing as a family. Carter thinks that the outside of the Colosseum is better than the inside (it is) and wonders why more fuss in not made about remains of Iron-Age huts, perhaps those of Romulus himself (who legend says founded Rome in 753 B.C.) on the Palatine Hill. I agree, and we've started compiling a list of underappreciated sites. Why are the Spanish Steps a must-see and the hut of Romulus virtually unknown? In the Forum we all liked the Arch of Titus, especially the panel showing victorious Romans carting off the menorah after defeating the Jews. (David noted that he didn't realize just how troublesome the Jews were for the Romans.) On another note, Stephen has found a friend in the apartment, an 11-year-old boy named Andrea. They have been playing soccer and filming special effects together with Stephen's camera. Stephen also participated in his first Italian baseball game. He didn't get to do much since it was a game for boys ages 13-15 (Carter would have played but was sick). The field was impressive. It is somehow connected to the 1960 Rome Olympics, but we're not sure how.

Frustrations

Rome is culturally rich and efficiency poor. Undermining daily life here are persistent frustrations, tied mainly to transportation and bureaucracy. Getting around the city is difficult, whether you're driving or using public transportation, as we do. Last Sunday, for example, we attended a church banquet at the Mongolia Barbecue, a restaurant in an unfamiliar area. As he always does, David had mapped out an elegant bus plan for us. We took the first bus to the depot, where the second bus was waiting in its stall. The bus' route number was not lit, however, signaling a problem. We inquired, and a lady asked a bus driver about it. Turned out that a whole quadrant of the city was restricted to bus traffic then and we would have to find another way. The driver suggested we take a certain tram to a certain spot, then hop across the street to wait for another tram, which would put us in the vicinity of the restaurant. So that's what we did. After the banquet, we needed to figure out the way home. It was dark and we saw no buses anywhere. This is not an uncommon scenario, and sometimes it's dark, desolate and even raining! You then face a number of options: 1) wait for your first-choice bus no matter how long it takes; 2) jump on the first bus that comes along, hoping it will carry you somewhere busier and at the same time keep you warm and dry; 3) start walking. (If it's really, really bad, like the night we were very far from home, it was very late and not raining, but hailing, we flag a taxi.) I tend to like options 2, 3, preferring to keep moving. David is more inclined toward option 1 but can be talked into option 2 or 3. When someone makes a decision and it turns ugly, the recriminations fly--"if we had done it my way..."--which is understandable but pointless since success is largely a matter of chance and we all take turns being right and wrong. But much time is wasted waiting for buses and sitting on buses. The Italians wait patiently, while I pace and sigh really loudly and want to scream, "Do you realize how inefficient your country is? Don't just sit there and take it!" The post office is another source of exasperation. Each month I need to wire rent money to Giovanna. Last month, on my third try and with the help of a nice English-speaking man, I managed to get in the correct line, fill out the complicated form and send the money successfully. I carefully saved a copy of the form so I wouldn't need translation help the next time. That time came and I took my form to the post office, and grabbed a ticket for the correct line (there are P, C and A lines I think, depending on what you want to do). I was #190 and the teller was helping #160. These post office lines are incredible--they remind me of those gloomy photos of bread lines in Soviet Russia that ran out the door and around the block. Finally my number was called. My teller did not speak a word of English, but I proudly presented the form, used the Italian word for "same," and showed her the cash. Speaking rapidly, she pulled out her own form and pointed to a particular line. Seeing my confusion, a customer volunteered his help. I explained, I just want to do the same thing I did last month--all the info is right here on my form. Oh no, he tells me, the form has just been changed. You now need to include your codice fiscale, the tax number that all Italians have. I don't have a codice fiscale, I say. I'm only here for four months and all I want to do is send money to this lady. The nice man starts talking about bank accounts and such and I'm completely dejected and don't know how I'm going to send Giovanna her money. The man apologizes, I say, it's not your fault and leave. I'm convinced there would be more great, accomplished Italians if they didn't have to spend so much time on buses and in post offices.

Having Fun at Dinner with the Gormans

A Word from David

Someone recently asked what I do all day while we're in Rome. From 10:30 a.m. or so on, I'm up to the same things as Sharon and the boys (though Sharon's the only one who mops floors with her watch). But every morning except Sunday, I wake up an hour or so before the rest of the gang and walk to a neighborhood cafe four or five blocks away. For the next three hours (I usually begin with a caffe Americano and a cornetto pastry-- don't tell the boys about the pastry-- and order a second caffe a couple of hours later) I work on a book manuscript on my laptop. The book is a memoir about myself and two friends from college (don't worry, they're both a lot more interesting than I am). My "office" is an octagonal wood booth, where I set up the laptop, and arrange several old journals and a few books (most days: Robert Lowell's poems and memoirs by Vladimir Nabokov, Mary McCarthy, Loren Eiseley and Lauren Winner), and I watch the other regulars filter in. The setting is perfect for the kind of writing I'm doing. With the Italian music and conversation swirling around me, I feel as if I'm in a kind of cocoon-- thinking about the early 1980s, when Reagan had just taken office and (of particular relevance to the chapter I'm working on) people still hitch-hiked. For the first two months, I worked in anonymity. But yesterday one of the baristas and a woman who meets with a group of thirty-something mothers at the cafe every day after they drop their kids at school asked if I was working on a book. They each have interesting stories themselves (the barista is an aspiring singer, it turns out, and one of the women apparently is an actress). But that will have to wait for another book.

Maybe I need to learn Italian...

My watch broke and I needed a haircut so I set out one day to accomplish two tasks. At the corner is a pharmacy that also carries such things as dog supplies, shoes and small kitchen appliances. A cursory look around the store did not reveal any watches so I asked a clerk whether anyone there spoke English. She took me to a young woman behind the counter. During our brief conversation, this woman was rather snippy and when I asked her if there were any watches for sale, she asked, "What do you want it for?" (I want to mop my floor with it, of course!) I couldn't bring myself to say "to tell time" because it seemed so obvious and maybe we had a miscommunication, so I pointed to her watch and said, "I just need a watch." She said, "What do you want it for?" In the meantime, the first clerk brought over several others to help, so in short order there were five people speaking rapidly and at length in Italian. Can all this be about a watch I wondered? The first clerk kept trying to tell me that they sold only medicines. But you sell dog products and toaster ovens, I wanted to say but couldn't. They collectively concluded that I couldn't buy a watch in this store or anywhere else in the neighborhood. Later in the day I found myself in an ultra-chic hair salon. I am uncomfortable in these venues in the U.S., and here, where women invest considerable time and money in looking good, I am even more out of place. Nobody spoke English and the owner--a young man--brought photos to me so that I could select a style. Immediately I could see trouble, because these hairstyles, not to mention the clothes and make-up were bizarre, the sort of thing you see on runways in Milan, Paris, etc. This young man never smiled and seemed to take himself very seriously, perhaps as an "artist of the hair." All I could do was to write "not strange," "not weird" and "I need to see" (many styles had hair completely covering the eyes) on a piece of paper and point to the most "out there" pages and shake my head no. He got the idea and directed me to the most normal haircut in the book, perhaps the only one suitable for an average citizen. I nodded yes. He worked silently and without smiling. In turn, I couldn't express my opinion about what he was doing. In the end, however, my hair looked exactly like the hair in the photo except that mine was shorter over the eyes. So, it was an awkward experience (the second of the day), but at least my hair looked good. And in Italy, that counts for a lot!

With the Baggs in Rome, the Martins in Bologna

A Report from Carter

Much of the greatest art of Rome is seen in churches. Raphael, Michelangelo, and especially Caravaggio contributed their talent to these churches. Caravaggio displays numerous paintings in churches. Perhaps the greatest of these is the "Madonna of the Pilgrims" in the Sant'Agostino basilica. The painting includes the Madonna, Jesus, and two peasants. Caravaggio's masterful use of color and positioning shocks the spectator. One famous aspect of this painting is the dirtiness of the peasant's foot. Traditionally everyone in Madonna paintings was portrayed as clean. Another beautiful aspect of this painting is in the positioning of the figures and background. The figures in this painting form a diagonal line. However, the pillar is straight and the peasants' staffs point diagonally the other way. As usual, Caravaggio's paintings display deep emotion and drama. This painting and many others have convinced me that there are indeed good artists, but I believe that there are only three: Raphael, Michelangelo, and Caravaggio.

Goodbye to the North, For Now

Dinner with the Martins and their small group was a feast for the body, mind and spirit. For the body, of course, since we were eating in Bologna. Conversation with Tom and Bonnie and Tom's sister, Helen, is never dull nor trivial. Helen regaled Stephen all evening with science facts and stories. We also learned that Tom used to play cello. After they departed in taxis, Carter said to me, "Mr. Martin is really smart!" We enjoyed talking with the six others in their party as well, thoroughly enjoying our evening of Christian fellowship. Thursday we spent in Ferrara, where David spoke to a class of law students. He was very impressed with their insightful questions. Our host, Andrea, took us to a restaurant where we enjoyed the best bread of the trip so far. We took two loaves back with us to Rome.

A Report from Stephen

Over the past four days my family has been in the beautiful city of Bologna. After about a three-hour train ride from Rome, we unpacked our baggage in the hotel. We had two rooms, one for the parents and one for the kids. Ironically, the room for the kids was about twice the size of the adult room. On the day that we arrived, after unpacking, Dad had a talk so Mom, Carter and I walked to a restaurant called Tamburini's. On the way, we passed by two leaning towers side by side. The one leaning tower used to be bigger than the other but it leaned so much people were worried that it would fall so they took the top off. Now the second one stands taller. After window shopping and chatting we reached the restaurant. After a nice meal (that was cheap) we trudged to our hotel.

Birthdays, Baggs and Bologna

Birthday greetings to Memom, Pop and my girlfriends at Tenth (you know who you are--happy 21st birthday to all of you!). Carter celebrated his birthday in Rome on March 2 with a small rectangular cake topped with an enormous white chocolate butterfly ornament. I had my birthday yesterday here in Bologna, where David is giving a series of lectures to law students at the university. His friend Luca and Luca's wife, Claudia, took us out to dinner and we talked Italian politics, a subject Luca knows well because his father is a senator. His great-grandfather was an internationally known mathematician specializing in geometry. Today, I took a quick train trip to Faenza, a small town specializing in ceramics. I spent most of my time, however, in a fabric store. There I bought a few remnants and am hoping that my more creative friends at home can help me turn them into something wonderful. Speaking of wonderful, the food stalls here in Bologna are unbelievable. They spill out into the streets--gorgeous fruits, vegetables, mozzarella, hams, sausages. Finally, before we left we had a joyous dinner with Jim and Dori Baggs, who were in Rome for several days. What fun it was to see friends from home! Tonight we're looking forward to dinner with Tom and Bonnie Martin.

There are kids in Rome!

We enjoyed stunning weather on Sunday and after hearing a 60-voice choir from Georgia and joining them in "Holy, Holy, Holy" at church we strolled through Borghese Park. We saw more children in a few hours than we had the entire month previous. We searched for a flea market that we never found but had a happy encounter with an American couple as they paused for lunch from their daylong bike ride along the route of a certain aqueduct. She is a fellow this year at The American Academy in Rome but normally works in historic preservation in Manhattan. He's lived in Rome for 45 years and teaches architecture for Penn State's Rome program. He did his graduate work at U. Penn in the late 1970s. On Saturday we visited the San Clemente church, which actually is a series of churches, one on top of the other. At the highest level is a Catholic church with beautiful mosaics in the apse, very much like those in Ravenna. In the courtyard you see mismatched columns, obviously taken from other buildings (there are parts of the Colosseum in structures all over Rome--an early example of recycling). You descend down into what is an active archaeological site to make out parts of earlier churches, sarcophagi built into the walls and such. Finally at the very lowest level sits an altar to the Persian god Mithra. It's very dark and spooky and a girl holding flowers was there with us. I was afraid she was going to put the flowers at the altar but fortunately she didn't. Thanks for the comments on the "Sacrifice of Isaac" entries. Ghiberti's entry won the competition and he went on to design the doors. His work was considered more balanced in terms of space, with the curve of the bodies, the rock's surface and Isaac's torso beautifully rendered. Brunelleschi's entry was notable for its sense of urgency, the angel darting in at the last minute to stop Abraham. Despite this loss, he became one of the most important architects of the Renaissance and designed Florence's signature dome.

Ghiberti's entry

According to my art history text, the history of the Early Renaissance in art begins with a competition for a design of the north doors of the Baptistry in Florence. Each artist had to submit one entry depicting the sacrifice of Isaac. The submissions for the two finalists--Brunelleschi and Ghiberti--survive and we were able to see them in a Florence museum. (See previous posting.) Both are extraordinary but in different ways. Which do you prefer and, more important, why? Click on the images to observe in greater detail.

Brunelleschi's entry

Brunelleschi's "Sacrifice of Isaac" entry for the competition to design the north doors of the Baptistry in Florence.

Anticipating visitors

We are looking foward to visits from American friends this month, some from Tenth Church and some from Lower Gwynedd Little League. Dori, you had asked what sites to see in your short time here. I'm no expert, but certainly the Sistine Chapel, the Colosseum and the Pantheon are not to be missed. Whatever precious minutes you have left should be spent in a church on the Piazza del Popolo (Santa Maria del Popolo), which houses two extremely moving paintings by Caravaggio--one the Conversion of St. Paul and the other the Crucifixion of St. Peter (don't know exact title). I can't remember if y'all have been here before but I imagine Dori that as an artist you will love observing the colorful buildings, intricate fabrics and arresting images--people included. This of course is free and you can take it all home with you in your mind's eye!

Florentine Adventure--Part 2

Speaking of Santa Croce, all four of us were walking toward this church through a crowded street market last Friday. David, with the only map, led the way. He tends to walk quickly and on this particular occasion the rest of us lagged behind. Carter ran to catch up with his Dad and soon after Stephen and I lost sight of them. I really didn't know whether they had gone straight, turned off or what but when I looked down a side street I saw what I thought might be Santa Croce and Stephen and I went in that direction. It was a sunny day about 2 p.m. and my inclination was to press on to our destination and assume we would meet David and Carter there. (Neither of us had cell phones.) David knew I didn't have a map but he knows that I readily ask people for directions. That's what I did and within about 15 minutes we arrived at the wonderfully spacious piazza in front of the church. David and Carter, however, were nowhere in sight. I became a bit more anxious because I was sure we would find them there. We had to reunite eventually because we left our luggage at the hotel and I had in my possession tickets for a 6 p.m. train to Rome. Also in our favor was that Florence is fairly small and the obvious points where we would meet up were few. My main worry was that perhaps Carter had not actually caught up with David and was traipsing around Florence by himself. I was determined, however, to wait it out at Santa Croce rather than wander the streets in search of them. Still, they didn't come and Stephen and I decided to make our way back on the most obvious street to our hotel. No sooner had we started walking when we saw two policemen. We had told the boys in Rome that if they ever got lost to tell a policeman. I explained our situation and they called the hotel. Turns out that David, along with Carter, had returned there first and recently departed, leaving word should we check in that we should all meet there at 4 p.m. All was well! I assumed they were making their way once again to Santa Croce, so Stephen and I stayed put. Sure enough they arrived a short time later. We celebrated with overpriced gelati and returned to Rome on our 6 p.m. train.

Florentine Adventure--Part 1

We spent last Thursday and Friday in Florence. Our quick assessment was that it was cleaner than Rome and more manageable, smaller and therefore walkable. It was a nice change from the chaos of Rome but we concluded that had we spent our four-month sojourn there we might have gotten bored. Plus, it has the art but not the ruins! In the Uffizi, Carter and I liked the Botticellis, Carter and David liked the Pieros and Stephen liked anything with St. Sebastian in it. After our reading on Renaissance art I've decided that I'd like to know more about Savonarola, the Dominican monk who denounced the paganism of the Medici and who was executed in the piazza outside the Uffizi. There is a marker on the precise spot. At Nerbone's, in a market similar to the Reading Terminal, we lunched on the local favorite bagnata, a beef sandwich dipped in meat juices (they like meat in Florence). Dinner was wonderful as well--I love the fagioli. I make these at home with a lot less success. On Friday we visited a museum on the history of science and saw Galileo's telescopes and his embalmed finger. You can't beat that! I've concluded that Galileo is overrated. It was Copernicus who first had the idea that the earth revolved around the sun. Maybe I'm missing something. I'm not sure that Galileo was really entitled to the elaborate tomb he has near Michelangelo's and Dante's in Santa Croce either.

Museums

Thanks for all your comments regarding Muti! Cora, I'm with you in that the first photo looks the most like him and the second and third are not as convincing. Stephen, my aspiring filmmaker, took the photos before the performance started. I guess we'll never know for sure whether we saw Muti or not! Earlier in the day we visited the Campidoglio, which observers call the nexus of ancient and modern Rome. You walk up a raft of steps to the piazza, where stands the monumental statue of Marcus Aurelius on horseback. I consulted my college art history text to learn about the statue's significance and we took lots of photographs. Funny then, that we would see the same impressive statue again inside the Campidoglio museum. Turns out that the original Marcus Aurelius was moved indoors since my college text was published and a copy now stands in the piazza. (I guess that means I'm old.) Here in Rome history abuts history if you will. In any given museum you may find Roman statues, copies of Roman statues, Roman copies of Greek statues, Renaissance copies of Roman statues...you get the idea. We have seen the same bust of Caracalla I don't know how many times. My boys are forever asking me, "Is this real?" I'm not sure what real means. Popes moved things here and there and rich Italians collected any number of unrelated objects and housed them together, so you're often not sure exactly what you're seeing. Wall text, usually only in Italian, is not much help. And the guards, when they're in the seats, are reading newspapers or playing with their cell phones. My boys get a big kick out of this. Italians know that no matter what they do people will come from all over the world to see these treasures.

Is this man Riccardo Muti?

Last night we attended a musical-play by Kurt Weill. I am certain that Riccardo Muti, the former conductor of the Philadelphia Orchestra, was sitting a mere 10 feet away from us. David is not so certain. Readers, please weigh in. Is the man in the photos below Riccardo Muti?

What do you think?

Buca di Ripetta

Pastor Dave Hodgdon of Rome Baptist Church has a gift for using apt illustrations in his sermons, which are direct and scripturally sound. We all enjoy going to church there. At the close of every service guests are invited to stand up and say where they're from. We've seen visitors from Nairobi (who brought greetings from his Baptist church there), Australia, Panama, Germany and various U.S. cities. Last week there were two architectural students from Penn State (are you reading this Greg Berzinsky?). Here in Rome, where we all feel like foreigners, we can worship together as one body of believers. Afterward we went to a restaurant (named above) recommended by an unusal guidebook called "City Secrets." All except Stephen tried the octopus. At the end of our meal we began speaking with the couple at the next table, who were there to celebrate their 36th anniversary. More rain thwarted our plans to walk to Capitoline Hill, so we came home instead to find that a cat had crawled through our window and according to Stephen, was "eating the parmesan cheese!" Carter began practicing his cello at about 5 p.m. Ten minutes into the practice, the neighbors began banging on the wall. This we found odd, because of all the noises we make here, cello music would seem to be the least offensive. Also, these neighbors tend to shout, listen to music, play the piano and do all sorts of other wide-awake activities very late into the night. Carter tried again today without incident. Perhaps he'll have to avoid practicing on the weekends, which will simply break his heart (just kidding).

Cello teacher

We found a cello teacher and Carter had his first lesson last Wednesday. As seems to be the case with all our activities, we needed to travel a distance to get there. Marius Parascan lives in Trastevere, to the south of us, in a neighborhood in all the guidebooks but one which we had not yet visited. The name of his street is Circonvallagione Gianicolense. (The Italians are fond of syllables.) Mr. Parascan is actually an English-speaking Romanian who plays in the orchestra at the Opera Theater of Rome, where we saw the ballet. He has been to the U.S. and performed in Carnegie Hall with an Italian chamber ensemble. Carter was a trooper in how he dealt with language differences and Mr. Parascan's quirky teaching style, and he was rewarded with a gelato on the trek home. I have developed a fondess for the Italian version of hot chocolate, which is a cross between American hot chocolate and hot fudge. It's like drinking a candy bar. I ordered one, received two and was charged for one- and one-half, but I did manage to drink both (didn't want to waste it). Today at 5:30 p.m. we are going to the theater to pick up Mr. Parascan's cello, which he is renting to us at a rate cheaper than we could find elsewhere. We have read about the ice and snow back home. It has been mild here but rainy. This weekend we are all reading about Renaissance art in preparation for a trip to Florence this Thursday.

Sistine Chapel

Yesterday we beheld the glories of the Sistine Chapel. Michelangelo was an indisputable genius, even though I don't count him among my favorite artists. His vision was original, his execution virtually flawless. Jonah appears 3-D, his legs seeming to hang down from the ceiling. The recent restoration of the frescoes revealed the colors as Michelangelo painted them, and they are gorgeous--the greens, oranges, blues and golds in particular. In the Creation of Adam, Michelangelo gave God a beautiful green scarf that flies in wind below him. I loved the energetic posture of Ezekial and the lyricism of the Libyan Sybil. Even though blue preponderates in The Last Judgment, the blue in Mary's dress manages to pop out. We also saw the School of Athens--more later.

Appearances

Visually, Rome is a matter of extremes. Trash litters the city, dumpsters line the streets, and no one, it seems, cleans up after their dogs (and everyone has a dog)! Yet beauty surrounds you-- in the architecture, patterns everywhere, the shape of the trees, and in the sunlight, which truly is different from the light back home. In the middle of one of our transportation crises, I looked up in the twilight to see three exquisite stained glass windows shining in the center of a dark building. Doors are made beautiful with intricate iron- and woodwork. The Italian sense of dress is also a matter of extremes--many people wear tacky, cheap-looking clothes, yet once in awhile you will spy an elegant gentleman or lady clad in long wool coat in brown or loden green, luxurious scarf, with fine leather shoes and bag. This I was noticing especially on our way to church yesterday. In the service, we were reminded that what people look like does not matter --it's what's inside that counts!

Moving along, sometimes

One day before the deadline, we successfully applied for our persmission to stay. This was our second try at our second post office. The first time an unfriendly postal worker shooed us away and we were afraid we would get the same lady. Fortunately, it seemed to be an entirely different staff on this day. The long lines seem a constant, however. The gentleman who received our papers looked through them quickly and said all we needed were additional copies of our passports, so we went out into the neighborhood looking for a store to make copies. We did that and returned to the post office. I thought we were finished but he looked more carefully at our papers and questioned a few things. We found someone in line to translate and resolved the problems. We paid our money and left, feeling triumphant. The actual permits are sent to our local police station and we are not even sure how they will notify us to pick them up. They may even arrive after we leave Italy! On another subject, we attended the ballet in the exquisite opera theater. Each seat seemed to have its own personal chandelier, with a huge one hanging down from the ceiling in the center. The ballets themselves were strange, but we expected this. They were so strange they were enjoyable. Carter wrote in his journal about the second ballet, "Parade," something to the effect that there were a series of folks who came out to dance, including a Japanese fellow, a horse and two Cubist figures, none of which had anything to do with the other. Before the performance I managed to speak with a cellist in the orchestra, who put me in touch with another English-speaking cellist who may be able to give Carter cello lessons here in Rome. We left the ballet early to find that the metro had closed for the night, so we were forced to improvise with a series of buses to get home. Moreover, the following night we tried to go to baseball practice and the metro just stopped. Despite lots of announcements over the intercome, even the Italians didn't seem to know what was going on and everyone kept running off and running back on the metro car. It finally stopped for good and we all went up to street level looking for buses. We were about halfway between home and baseball but couldn't find a bus with room to go in either direction. After much walking we found a trolley and another bus to take us home. So we missed baseball that night. The following day Stephen and I went to the Napoleon Museum because Stephen is writing a report on Napoleon. He filmed quite a bit inside the museum. We then tried to locate a fencing studio to the north of the city. We ended up walking a big circle alongside a major highway and came across a gypsy camp down an embankment. It was like a shantytown and was very depressing to see in the rain. In this section of the city, almost everyone is driving cars--there is no foot traffic. The few passersby we encountered helped us eventually to locate the fencing studio. We met a pyschology professor there who translated for us and gave us a lift to the nearest bus depot. I think this fencing studio is too hard for us to get to via public transportation, but I have another one to investigate. Fencing might work out if baseball doesn't. After that long day we watched "Spartacus" on the laptop. I haven't mentioned too much about the food yet. We are mostly cooking at home but have eaten in a few pizzarias, one Indian restaurant, where we each had a throne to sit on, and at the local casual restaurant, where we had a thick, millet soup, pork and pasta with clams. David said that it was about $15 cheaper than our usual outings to Phil's back home. P.S. I enjoy your posted comments, so please keep them up. It lets me know who is reading this!

Baseball and ballet

Yesterday we met with Ludovica, Giovanna's older daughter, who is very sophisticated and fluent in English. She translated the remaining parts of the permit to stay application. Today we will try to submit it again to the post office. Ludovica said that no officials really know what to do with it and don't want to handle it because the rules change with each administration. I am following another American couple's blog, and they are having the same problems that we are. We went by two buses and two metros to the boys' baseball practice. Two parents spoke English, which helped. The boys played in a gym with tennis balls. Carter and Stephen liked it but I don't know if we can make that long a trip three times each week for practices. There is a game for Stephen's team this Saturday. A parent offered to drive him, so we'll see. We bought tickets to the ballet tonight--three ballets by Massine-Picasso, which of are of great historic significance. I'm really looking forward to it but Stephen is not.

Church and wanderings

Yesterday we were blessed by a worship service in English with communion at Rome Baptist Church. David and I have attended this church on our two previous trips to Rome. On the previous Sunday 195 people worshiped there (to give you an idea of its size). There were many Americans, of course (from Seattle, Florida, Chicago) and many people from the Philippines. Here in Rome, they speak the best English I have found. Today we got very little accomplished, though we tried. We are still attempted to acquire a "permit to stay." So far we have been to two police stations and two post offices--they keep sending us to other agencies! We then tried to join a sports club with a pool so the boys could swim. We were told that there is no free swimming in Italy for people younger than 18. They can only take lessons. Finally, we tried to locate a wireless hotspot and found that the address led us to somebody's garage. At home the power went off again when I was cooking. Apparently you can't cook and have the lights on at the same time. We ate by candlelight. Another exciting bit of news--I had sent a folding bike from home to here, thinking that we could use it to get around. I received noticed that the bike had arrived, but that I needed to pay over 300 euros and go the the airport to retrieve it. (It cost less than half that to send it.) We have decided not to open it and just have it returned home--we can do without the bike! Still and all, we're having fun. The boys are working well at their studies and are enjoying themselves tremendously. Tomorrow we start baseball and the following day fencing, if we can find these places.

Igea Street

A bit about our neighborhood--200 meters from our apartment building is the main street. Here we have a gas station, flower vendor, and a variety of tiny shops selling lingerie, pet supplies, plasticware such as small trash cans, brooms etc. and other goods. At the end of the block sits a sandwich/coffee shop, clearly the most active place on the street. Everyone hangs out here. Across the street is a large (by Roman standards) supermarket, which reminds me of the one across from Tenth Church. Carter even found peanut butter here, which is difficult to do in Rome (where there's a will there's a way I guess).

We have arrived

I am writing from an Internet shop -- we discovered that we do not have wireless access from our apartment. Our flight was delayed one hour because we had no pilot and a substitute was called. He or she managed to get the job done and we landed in Rome only a bit late. Giovanna and her daughter Cristina met us at the apartment and gave us a short orientation. It is not large and cooking will be a challenge. Tonight we managed to shut off our power just because I was using two burners and a small toaster oven while we had all the lights on. Though small, the apartment is divided into two floors. We have set up desks for the boys and managed to get in some schooling today as well as take a bus ride to help us get oriented. There are a few little shops nearby as well as a big supermarket, so buying necessities should not be a problem.

It is rather warm and was rainy today. Tomorrow we try to secure our permission to stay from the local police office.

Final Preparations!

David and I decided about a year ago that spring 2007 would be the ideal time to spend a semester in Italy. Carter, age 13, and Stephen, age 11, are fairly independent and old enough to remember the experience but not yet in high school, when interrupting academics and extracurriculars would be a more complicated affair. David was able to arrange time away from Penn but make up for lost salary with consulting work. Giovanna, with whom we stayed on our first visit to Rome 14 years ago, is in her mid-80s but eager to host us again. She had moved in the meantime to a smaller apartment and would live with her daughter and son-in-law at their farm in Perugia during our four-month stay. Since last summer, then, I have been immersed in preparations for this adventure (or should I say misadventure?!) The planning itself has provided fodder for a few good stories, but the time to depart has come! Today we said goodbye to friends at Tenth Presbyterian Church, who have graciously offered to pray for us (thanks especially to Jane Reimold for suggesting this blog). My family treated us to an entertaining, send-off lunch at Phil's Tavern, although this Rome escapade has them seriously questioning our good sense. Andrew Canavan will be encamped at our house while we're gone. We cleared the clogged drains and set a mousetrap in honor of his arrival and woke up this morning needing to remove a furry little body. Andrew may have an immediate battle on his hands! If all goes well, my next post will originate in Rome.