I’m not doing NaNoBloPo anymore because of my hands, so I won’t be posting much this weekend. I will, however, be visiting my parents in Grass Valley and my friends Troy and Krista in Folsom. Also, with a little luck, I will find a new party dress to wear this holiday season.
I think I might make this for Christmas dinner:
I have typed my way to sore achy hands, sharp-shooty-pain hands. So I guess I’m going to have to stay away from the computer this weekend and rest. 
I am considering where I want to go next year on vacation. It will probably be our last big vacation before we start concentrating on buying a house. Originally I had considered going to Africa, but I now know that I don’t want to sit on a plane for 18 hours. I have decided that 10-12 hours is my limit. It’s not that I don’t ever want to go to Africa–In fact, I fully plan to some day. But later in life. Not now.
So, due to the (relatively) shorter plane ride and the fact that I (sort of) speak the language, Kyle and I are considering South America. I haven’t read up on South America enough to make this decision, but right now we are seriously considering Peru.
Things that Peru has:
I find Peru really interesting and have always wanted to go there. In addition, I heard that they are considering restricting or shutting down parts of Machu Picchu because tourism is destroying the place. So I want to see it while I can.
However, I am also interested in the Galapagos Islands. They are off the coast of Ecuador, which is right above Peru. For a couple of exciting hours I thought I would see both Machu Picchu and the Galapagos Islands, but that doesn’t look logistically possible. At least not without tremendous effort and a lot of extra travel. Which is too bad, because the Galapagos Islands have:
If we did the Galapagos Islands, we would go to Ecuador instead of Peru and then have a side-trip to the islands. I don’t know much about Ecuador yet, but it doesn’t sound as interesting as Peru. So I keep going back and forth. Animals that aren’t afraid of humans or Machu Picchu? Giant tortoises or wild llamas? Island life or the Amazon river (well, the Amazon goes through Ecuador too)?
What would you pick?
Awhile back, I read an article comparing two kinds of artistic talent. One was the people who achieve great art at a young age and then go onto self-destruct or fizzle out. Think of someone like F. Scott Fitzgerald, who wrote several brilliant novels as a young man and then got increasingly dried out (and drunk) until he died at age 44.
The alternative to that are artists who mature first and then achieve great success. Think, for example, of Mark Twain, who was 32 before he wrote anything good and 49 before he published his masterpiece, Huckleberry Finn. These artists tend have both longer lives and careers.
At this point, I’ve given up all hope of being one of those young geniuses. Even when I was a 22-year-old longing for fame and glory, in my more honest moments, I had to admit that I probably didn’t have the skill or self-confidence to be a superstar writer. But I, like every writer alive, still wished for it. Ambition is an ugly, ugly thing, my friends.
Turns out, I may be better off with the way things are. The Village Voice interviewed Ned Vizzini, who published three books between ages 15 and 23. Then the pressures of that major book contract got to him and he had a nervous breakdown.
He thought about committing suicide and checked himself into a psychiatric hospital in November 2004 for five days. For Vizzini, there was too much to live up to. “Having a book published so young means you aren’t made to rely on the charm, guts, and social skills that artists need,” he says. “You’ve been delivered what everyone’s been going for.”
Whew. Dodged a bullet there.
Link swiped from Bookslut.
I was going to write one more Italy entry, but I feel like it is dragging on, so I will just tell you a little story about Florence and Siena.
In the 1200-1300s, Florence and Siena were in stiff competition with each other. Florence had a river, Siena had banking. They were both in Tuscany. They both built gorgeous marble-covered churches with big domes in the center. They both had lots of yellow buildings with red roofs.
Siena
Florence
However in 1348, Siena was struck with the black death. The population was wiped out. Afterwards, the monks blamed the illness on the large statue of Venus that stood in Il Campo, the courtyard in the center of town. The townspeople broke the statue up and buried it around the city.
Il Campo
But the damage had been done. Florence went on to become the birthplace of the Renaissance. Siena stayed a charming town. Today, they are similar-yet-different experiences. Florence is gorgeous, crowded, and filled with wonderful shops and museums. Siena is smaller, more intimate, and in the evening, Il Campo is filled with pretty Italian children.
While in Siena, I tried wild boar and grappa and wandered around and around the same crooked alleys that are much the same as they were in medieval times. In Florence, I did all that other Italian stuff–eating, art, etc.
Siena Alley
Both were fun. Both were worth it. I will definitely go back to Italy some day.
Me in front of the Fountain of Joy in Siena.
Part I: Ancient Rome
Part II: Italian Culture
Part III: Art and God
Part IV: Florence and Siena
Considering that whatever I vote for is usually the opposite of whatever other people vote for, I’m pretty happy with the election results so far. And hey, a woman is going to be speaker of the House!
I’m also happy that Congressman Richard Pombo was ousted in favor of Democrat Jerry McNerney.
Among other things, Pombo wanted to try to get oil drilling on the California coast. I recently wrote an article on that subject for the North Bay Bohemian. It looks at that and other threats to the coastline.
Note: My Italy trip was huge. I took over 1,000 pictures and went to at least 10 museums, six churches, and three towns. It would be overwhelming to talk about it all in one entry. So I am going to break it up into a few episodes to give you the highlights.
Of all the art I saw in Italy, without a doubt, Michelangelo’s David was my favorite. It completely lives up to the hype (unlike certain other overrated paintings). Every detail of that statue is perfect and refined. And I never realized before how it tells a story: It is David right before he throws the stone at the giant Goliath. David’s face, looking up at the giant, is vulnerable and contemplative, but his hand holding the stone is large and powerful, indicating the power of God that would guide the stone to Goliath’s forehead. It is touching and powerful and absolutely beautiful.
Michelangelo was 24 when he made the David. When I was 24, I could barely handle writing an article on health care insurance.
We also saw Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel at the Vatican Museum. The line to get in was insane, but it went pretty fast.
Inside, you go through seemingly endless rooms with painted ceilings and walls, each more fabulous than the last. At last, you see the Sistine Chapel itself. The walls and ceiling tell the entire story of the Bible from Creation to Judgment Day, all done in exquisite detail. No photographs are allowed, so I have no pictures of it. We spent so much time in there staring at the ceiling, my neck hurt when we left.
The rest of the gallery had some statues that were worth looking at.
Me in the Vatican Museum
Then there was Florence’s Uffizi Gallery, which holds Botticelli’s The Birth of Venus and Primavera. While we both liked Botticelli, we got a little tired of looking at painting of Madonnas after awhile. In some ways, it’s too bad they don’t leave the religious art in the churches where they have more context. As it is, looking at rows of Madonnas gets tiring.
Statue outside the Uffizi, shot through the rain
But even though much of the art has been removed from the churches, they still often act as museums. In one Florence church, we looked at the graves of Galileo, Michelangelo, and Machiavelli, among other famous Italians. Both Florence and Siena have gorgeous churches with green, black, white, and pink marble on the outside. I was in love with the one in Florence — I took probably about 30 pictures of it. None of them are that great though. Here’s the side of it.
As you may have guessed already, Kyle and I looked at a lot of statues. Many of them were over 2000 years old. The National Museum of Rome was particularly good. The statues were organized into each era so that you can sort of walk through the rise and fall of the empire. There were amazing statues salvaged from a sunken ship, statues of all the gods, and countless busts of emperors.
Me looking at a bronze statue in the National Museum.
We also saw the Modern Art Museum in Rome, which has what passes for Italian Impressionist art, but also some anti-Nazi propaganda, a Van Gogh, and a Klimt. Outside, they were filming a movie, and I watched them repeatedly shoot a scene with an old lady crossing the street with a dog.
One the highlights of the trip for me was seeing the Keats museum. The 25-year-old poet, who was dying of tuberculosis, came to Italy in the hopes that the dryer weather would prolong his life. He wrote Ode to a Grecian Urn and other poems in the house, and then died a slow painful death in a small room overlooking the Spanish Steps. The museum, which was run by a 20-something American woman who gives one mean lecture, has his death masks, lots of his original letters, a draft of a poem that Oscar Wilde wrote about Keats’s grave, and even some parts of Keats’s body–hair, ashes, etc. It’s well worth checking out for anyone who likes poetry.
View from Keats’s window.
And of course, there was St. Peter’s Basilica, the largest Christian church in the world. It is so big you could put Notre Dame inside of it. It’s built where St. Peter was crucified and the Pope gives all his important speeches (sermons?) there. Inside, Michelangelo’s Pieta sits behind bulletproof glass.
But for all that, we weren’t impressed. The church was cold like a big mausoleum. There were countless statues of Popes and Catholic things we didn’t understand. No one was worshipping or praying–they were all taking pictures. And the Pope was not even there to say howdy!
Graffiti near the Vatican
Note: My Italy trip was huge. I took over 1,000 pictures and went to at least 10 museums, six churches, and three towns. It would be overwhelming to talk about it all in one entry. So I am going to break it up into a few episodes to give you the highlights.
I had heard that California is supposed to have the exact same climate as Italy, but that didn’t seem to be the case when I was there. Italy in October is more like California is in February–everything is lush and green. There was also this gorgeous light covering everything, a swath of gold that filters down from the clouds. It was hard to photograph, but I understand why artists like Italy now.
Girl on the bus from Siena to Rome.
The plants were all familiar — oleanders, palm trees, pampas grass, etc. But everything was slightly bigger and healthier. The oleander blossoms were as big as azaleas and even the dandelions were taller and somehow more elegant. Gardening is a big part of life there. The smallest apartment balcony has an herb garden. Restaurants use piles of fruit for decoration. And who can blame them? Look at the size of these grapes:
Of course, the most interesting part of Italy was the food. I have never eaten so much in my life. On a typical day, we had espresso for breakfast, a two-course lunch, and a two-course dinner. The courses were usually pasta and some sort of meat dish afterwards. We also had wine with most of our meals. In between, there was gelato.
We had everything from cheap sandwiches to gourmet meals. One meal would be in a small nook in a romantic alley while the rain beat down outside, the next would be in a touristy pizza joint. The best thing I had was a meat lasagna that was, without a doubt, the best lasagna I have ever had in my life. I also had wild boar, rabbit, shrimp scampi, and veal, among other things. And the best tiramisu.
Somehow, despite all this, I lost weight. I guess it was from all the walking.
Kyle eating gelato.
I loved the shopping in Italy. The clothes are cheaper and better made than you can get in California. Kyle bought a leather wallet and a pair of dress shoes, both handmade in Italy. I bought a navy coat, two scarves, Venetian glass earrings and necklace, a purple sweater, a green sweater, and a terracotta canister for my coffee. I had to force myself to stop. I wanted to buy everything I saw.
We also really liked the Italian people. They are not the gregarious caricatures you see in the Olive Garden commercials, but they are fun, outgoing, and more laid back than people from other European countries. They are also polite. We didn’t run into a single jerk or rude person our entire 10 days there, and some people were extraordinarily kind to us.
Italian couple kissing while Kyle looks on.
Communicating was easy after awhile. I now like the Italian language. It is beautiful and easy to pronounce. Maybe because of my background in Spanish, I found it easy to understand and by the end of the trip, I was beginning to get snippets of conversation. (Whenever I travel, I am surprised by how easy it is for me to pick up other languages. I really should put more effort into learning a second language.)
An odd caveat to all this is the beggars. In Italy, bands of people work the street, some selling you things, some begging for money, some playing music for money.
Street musicians near the Pantheon.
Actually, the beggars were fascinating. Many of the younger gypsy women would sit holding an infant while rolling their eyes to indicate despair and helplessness. I saw other beggars holding puppies or sitting on church steps fingering rosaries. Then there were the ones who used their infirmities for gain–people with bent spines or stunted limbs, etc. One person appeared to have fallen on the sidewalk. He was lying face-down with his cap splayed out beside him for coins. On his head, peeking through his hair, were large brown boils. I was so surprised, I dropped my suitcase.
And then there was the beggar I saw while standing in line for the Vatican Museum. An old lady came along holding out a green bowl and saying in an elaborately shaky voice, “Signora, Signore?” She took off her hat, and half of her scalp looks worn away, a raw pink wound like she had taken a cheese grater to her scalp. It was weird and certainly didn’t make me want to give her money.
A different beggar woman on the Spanish Steps
Americans love Italy, apparently. We were everywhere. Because of this, some of the Italians were a little wary about Kyle and I. Whenever we ordered a caffe, they would almost always explain that it was Italian coffee (espresso), not American coffee. I can only imagine the reaction they received when some Americans ordered a coffee and got an espresso instead. I saw a similar situation in a leather store. An American woman was having a fit because a wallet she wanted to buy had a small scratch on it. She treated the shop owner like he was a thief who was trying to cheat her. It was embarrassing.
Me, sitting at the top of the Spanish Steps
Note: My Italy trip was huge. I took over 1,000 pictures and went to at least 10 museums, six churches, and three towns. It would be overwhelming to talk about it all in one entry. So I am going to break it up into a few episodes to give you the highlights.
One of the coolest things about Italy was how history is transparent there. It’s not just the fact that modern Rome is sitting right on top of ancient Rome; it’s also how the art in the museums was at one point housed in churches right down the street, and how the churches house the bodies of the famous people who lived in Italy–popes, artists, philosophers, etc. Everything is right there, and you can figure it all out with little effort and without even speaking Italian. It is as close to history coming alive as you are going to get.
One of my favorite things about Italy was the Roman Forum. This mile or so of ancient land was the cradle of the Roman empire. It has the Colosseum, the spot where Julius Caesar’s body was burned, the place where Peter and Paul were imprisoned, and even a cabin that Romulus supposedly lived in.
The Colosseum is huge. At one point it could house 50,000 people. It was, of course, where the Romans had all of their “games”– chariot races, people being chased by wild animals, etc.
Inside, there are several levels you can walk around. There used to be a floor in the center, but it has since been excavated, so you can see the pens where all the animals and such were kept.
The most amazing part was simply how big the place was. It was every bit as impressive as one of our super-stadiums, plus it was covered in marble. You don’t really understand how advanced that civilization was until you see something like that. Also interesting was all the ancient graffiti, most of it crosses and other Christian signs. Supposedly, early Christians were martyred in the Colosseum. Right outside is the Arch of Constantine, the emperor who brought Christianity to Italy. It stuck. Apparently Italy is still 85% Catholic.
I also saw several cats wandering around the Roman Forum. This one was particularly friendly.
Right outside the Colosseum is about a mile of the remains of downtown ancient Rome, called the Roman Forum. Here is one of many pictures I took of part of it:
The three white columns in the center is the remains of the Temple of the Vestal Virgins. Six virgins tended the fire of Vesta, the goddess of the hearth and home. Letting the fire go out was punishable by death. So was having sex — if a virgins was discovered to have been deflowered, she was buried alive about a quarter of a mile away. The virgins lived in houses behind the temple, which you can see in the picture. To the left (not pictured) is where Julius Caesar was burned.
The forum was an oddly pretty place, with olive and palm trees in among huge arches so old, the marble has worn away from time.
At the end of the Forum is a museum and several churches. One of them in built on top of the prison where at different times both Peter and Paul were imprisoned. You can go down into the cramped, dark hole they were kept in. For some reason, it smelled like sewage down there. Kyle thought there was a sewage line nearby. In any case, it was realistic.
After seeing all this, you understand why Rome only has two metro lines. I guess when you have priceless ruins under your soil, it’s kinda hard to dig tunnels for trains.