It's easier for a fat man to fit through the eye of a needle... -M

June 6,

Ok, ok. I'm getting the hang of this. Breakfast in Rome today only set me back about ten stones & I even managed to get some of my sandwich in my mouth before it exploded, throwing sandwich shrapnel onto the street. I don't even know what was in it. A lot of cheese, I guess. And I got a glimpse of something pink that might have been prosciutto that lay there silently mocking me from the sidewalk.

Today, Gwen & I went to the Vatican. As a repentant apostate, this was kind of a big deal for me. Saint Peter's basilica is nothing less than awesome. It is an enormous, ponderous testimonial to catholic magnificence. It is also a monument to suffering & the abasement of common folk. Every statue, every painting shows some soul being tortured or in a state of extreme supplication. It Is beautiful & terrifying at once for it is designed to obliterate the human spirit in lieu of the Holy one.

I noticed, on the way in, a few beggars lining the walls of the Vatican hoping for alms from the pilgrim/tourists. On occasion, to assuage any social guilt, I've been known to drop a coin or two. Not this time. I'm on a budget. So was everyone else, I guess. And everyone else was a lot of goddamn people. And this includes the nun I saw walk by with nary a look at the armless beggar. That which you do for the least of me...

The Vatican is also a repository of huge wealth. The art! Greek, Roman, Egyptian... We saw mummies! The gems! Gold! All piled up safely & you can see some of it for about €15. No soup kitchens, though. Maybe, they're around the back.

We had to go through the museum to get to the Sistine Chapel. It is a glorious labyrinth of paintings, tapestries & sculptures with private parts either covered or removed. And then at last Micaelangelo's masterpiece (or one of them, anyway). I won't bother describing that. It's stunning. But, I will comment on two things:

1. In the chapel, women must cover their shoulders & knees & silence must be observed. There are guards roaming the chamber shushing & clapping their hands at the boisterous. This is something one also encounters when viewing the presumably equally holy remains of Ho Chi Minh in Saigon.

2. Flash photography is forbidden because the light degrades the pigmentation of the art. I would get furious at my fellow pilgrim/tourists when they broke this rule & then I relayed something. It's not because I worshipped the subject of the art. I worship the art.

And my apostasy is complete.
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Vatican Art & Sunlight

A tourist's outrage & redemption -M

June 5, Sunday

How does one not love Rome? Julius Ceasar slept here. Caligula had sex with a swan while fellating a donkey here. Borgias & Medicis sold their daughters' virtue for weed money. Sundry popes manipulated the world from a jewel encrusted hammock in the Vatican. Supermodels sprinkle cocaine on chocolate mousse & complain to the media about their loss of privacy. Rome is all decadent holiness.

But Rome truly sucks for stupid tourists like me. It sucks for the Everyman. You have to be canny. You have to be sly to enjoy the magnificence of Rome.

Case in point: after paying over $20 for a couple of slices of pizza & a water & another $15 for a slice of salami on bread & a plastic bottle of tea, I was close to the end of my limited wits. It was raining on the Palatine Hill. My beloved Gwendolyn was soaked. Her camera equipment depreciated noticably with each raindrop. We huddled miserably under a tree by the house of the nefarious Livia. An apparently helpful umbrella salesman offered to bail us out.

Now these umbrellas have been proffered for about €5 all day long but now it was raining. "€10!" he said. "Hell no!" hollered the damp American. "Those things have been selling for €5 all day!". "Fine," he replied. "Give me €5.". I reached into my pocket & pulled out a soggy 10 spot. He took it, handed me a sad red micro umbrella & said, "OK €8!" & dropped a €2 coin in my palm.

"We just agreed on €5!" I handed him back the umbrella. "OK €7!" He cried & threw another euro at me. Now, I was prepared to administer the righteous beating which my western upbringing assured me I was entitled to, but the damp misery on my sweetheart's face & the speedy retreat which my adversary had adopted prevented any such response. He was literally sprinting away through the ruins of Augustus' Rome. Doubtless he was rushing to spend his ill gotten profit at the local donkey whorehouse/opium den.

The sad little umbrella did it's utmost to protect us from pneumonia while we hugged each other under it's scarlet insufficiency toward our hotel. Occasionally, the handle would fall off or the umbrella would collapse into us if the breeze picked up. Across from the Trevi Fountain, we found that the United Colors of Benetton might have a dry sweater for my waterlogged Gwendolyn for a nominal sum & a kidney.

Thus revived, we tossed the rest of our savings into the fountain & wished for a happy life free of parasites.

At this point, we both realized we were starving & had merited a reasonable meal. We arrived at a cool little spot we'd seen the night before. It was small, cozy, impeccably decorated. We left the little red umbrella in it's own little puddle by the door. And then had the most awesome meal of our lives. We shared an unbelievable asparagus soup with a puff pastry top & a rigatoni carbonara the defies description. Then Gwen had filet with onion, vanilla, ginger & pear while I had a rare filet with white truffle. The beer flowed. We split a chocolate mousse with more truffle (one can never have enough truffle) & a litre of limonocello. This time the astronomical price was both expected & worthwhile. We literally skipped back to our room, happy & sated.

But, we forgot the umbrella.

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The Roman Forum in the Rain under The Red Umbrella

 

Scuba Donkey at Trevi Fountain with The Red Umbrella! ;)

A place of worship: Part 2 -G

A Place of Worship Part 2

In Rome, between every historic monument and place of worship, there is a Prada store. There is Chanel, Burberry, Ferragamo and every possible name of fashion you can imagine. And on the sidewalks and walking straight down the middle of Roman streets are men and women that look so unbelievably fucking cool. So cool it makes an American woman in her teva sandals and sundress want to run back into the hotel and hide! They do say ciao, they do ride Vespas, they do make out against walls anywhere they want, they do wear 1,000€ high heels down old cobblestone streets, they all do have sexy luscious dark curls, and the men do have impeccable taste in shoes and don't seem to care about shaving. Each and every one of them is Venus and Adonis incarnate.

Today, I have been totally schooled in the way of fashion. Yes, it is partly about the clothes, the shoes, the hair, and the sunglasses, but that's only the half of it. It appears that how you wear it all & how you move while you are wearing it is totally the second half of the formula. One must hold the cigarette and move it to their lips with the utmost sultry care. One must shift their hips, swing their leather bag and look over their shoulder with just the right slow languid motion as to imply sex with every nuance.

This is rocket science. This is serious stuff. Those who have not caught on just look like American tourists that can't ever escape their lowly fate. And the key to it all is to look like you don't give a fuck about any of it while you are doing it. There is no place to be. There is no one to impress. You have time for a cappuccino and cigarette. You totally woke up looking like this. You are carefree. Sex oozes from every cell of your being, and remember...you don't give a fuck. You are the most fashionable creature to ever roam the earth.

Part 1: A place of worship -G

Saturday June 4th- 9:30pm
Part 1: Something to Believe In

I've only been to Rome one other time in my life. I ran through some busy street with a giant back pack on just 5 days before my 21st birthday. It was all a blur and I only caught a glimpse of the coliseum from afar. I never felt like I could say I had seen Rome. After today, and only an afternoon of exploring, I feel I can now begin to say - I've seen Rome.

When Mario and I enter a new city on this trip, we've take up the custom to familiarize ourselves briefly with the map, then just start wandering and see where we end up. After The Spanish Steps and several busy side streets we found a church, a large basillica, and everything inside was adorned in gold. There was music. There was a grand dome with evening sunlight peering in. It was grand. It was peaceful. It felt solid. It felt safe.

I am not religious. Spiritual with the frequent inclination to worship mother earth, sunsets over the ocean, butterflies, flowers, ;) but never one to find dark stone structures representative of God. I was called out on my narrow mindedness today. I was called out on my resistance to structure and conformity. I was called out on my fear of rules and guidelines.

It was silent inside, but the masses were outside in the streets of Rome and they needed something to make them feel safe, something to ground them, something to believe in. Today I was just one in the grand mass and today I closed my eyes and listened to the silence. Today I understood a bit of what I so often repelled. So when I turned another corner to see The Pantheon of Rome with it's grand choir singing from inside for evening mass- I was open to it's overwhelming resonance with something much larger than myself. Many have come before and many will come after and we all need something to believe in! If a giant structure of marble & stone can remind us of something that withstands time when our own impermanence is glaringly evident- it becomes not only a monument to the human spirit and it's history on earth, but a place of real worship.

Wherein Gwendolyn forgives Snooki -G

Friday June 3, 2011
3:30 in the afternoon

I wrote a long blog entry last night about the great beauty of this city and how in love with it I am. Firenze is undeniably one of the most magnificent places in the world. The post was philosophical, humanistic and the complete opposite of the ones Mario writes. ;) ...Mine had very little humor and very long wordy run on sentences about the meaning of life- with no big words whatsoever (i always defer to mario for those). In it, everyone was beautiful, every sound moving, every sight overwhelming! Then, i was out. I fell asleep half way through my writing and Mario had to sneak the iPad back from underneath my heavy head to play his Vegas Tower game.

Today, after breakfast we entered into the heart of Florence for our last day. It has been 6 days and it feels like a lifetime wouldn't nearly be enough to cover all of the experiences of Tuscany. We entered with all of the love and gratitude in the world - for the people, for the art, for the food, for the limoncello! We turned the corner for one last glance of the grand Catthedral in the morning light. I couldn't resist. I stopped by a lamppost to get my camera out, held it high at just the right angle- ...and got run over by Snooki. It wasn't enough that we had the fortune of bumping in to the male cast members of The Jersey Shore a few days before. This time, it was not a gentle glance from afar. I literally got run over by Snooki. The camera man trampled me first and then all I could see when my senses returned were giant fuzzy mohair boots, an over adorned python print dress and a big fluff of hair. They all brushed by me at shoulder level, and Im only 5 foot 3. ;) It wasn't a pleasant brush, nor a brush with greatness, but I'm in Firenze- here the greatness is in the air! I straightened myself up, removed a few strands of the long hair Pomeranian fur from my sleeve and returned to the beauty that lay before me. Ancient sculpures, cathedrals, exquisite boutiques, the fragrance of jasmine at every turn. To Snooki and some of my other favorite American tourists from today...it is generally phrased as either "permesso" or "excuse me". Pick one or both, and remember to fall in love with Firenze while you are here. There is a gift around every corner. This is one of the most exquisite places on earth.

And thank you Firenze for welcoming all of us with open arms. We all have much to learn from you.
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Snooki & her boots

The situation in Florence... -M

June 1, Firenze

Today we are buying scarves. Gwen & I happen upon a fabulous cache of them in one of the booths in piazza near our room. Our eyes glaze over with blinding gluttony as we fondle the material & imagine ourselves duly wrapped in Gallic accouterments. The salesgirl informs us they cost €12 per glorious strip but she will sell us one for €10. "What if we buy two?" I asked shrewdly, invoking the spirit of every canny Arab negotiator I've ever read about. "Then," she replied, "you will have two beautiful scarves.". Forty euro later, we walk away happily with four.

Later.

We are crossing the Piazza del Duomo. As always, I am slack jawed in the presence of the Cattedrale di Santa Maria del Fiore. This is due as much to the beauty of the structure as it is to my deviated septum. Gwendolyn is equally entranced but has the presence of mind to notice the camera crew rushing-stumbling backwards over the cobblestones. The are recording for posterity the testosterone laden male cast members of "The Jersey Shore" as the swagger into the square. There are four of them walking like gunslingers toward an appointment at the OK Corral. Their lips are pursed the way one would if he was to kiss something repulsive. Hats are worn at an angle to prevent the sun from hitting their bad sides. I recognize a couple of them: the Situation & the one that looks like a muscular fireplug. We scamper behind shamelessly, as do all the other American tourists, to snap a photo & bask in the mild contempt of the erstwhile superstars. Two Italian policepeople (one was a girl policeperson) look inquiringly at the growing mob. I inform them helpfully that they are the stars on an American TV show that everyone watches but no one likes. They walk off shaking their heads.
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A glimpse of the boys

You wanna fragglerock with that? -M

May 30, 7:15 pm Firenze

In a cafe, high up overlooking Florence. The city was glowing yellow as the sun began her preparations to set. The waiter asked us what we want to drink. "A Mojito," says Gwen simply. Of course, I am an adventurer, so I ordered something that reads like Caprioska or whatever. The menu claims the drink arrives with vodka, lime & sugarcane. Our waiter asked if I prefer limon or fragglerock(!). I never cared much for that show & besides, I wanted the lime. "Limon!" I declared, clearly & without hesitation. Twenty minutes later our drinks arrived. Gwen's Mojito was strong & tangy. I got strawberries soaked in vodka with two pink straws.