We left Istanbul this afternoon. We didn’t even get off the Equinox. Istanbul was the stop in which we were the least interested. I blame our traditional western educations. Everything we know about Turkey is about the Ottomans, which stuck around forever and always seemed to be on the periphery of our history classes.
The people were nice, but a little aggressive and I am a tad bit less wary of pickpockets on the ship. So we stayed on board and were both pleased with that decision. We slept in, read, dozed off, had a nice lunch and a generally restive day.
Which makes me think, I should buy an old retired cruise ship and just offer sea days. I do believe they’d be a big hit. No ports, no excursions, just three or four days sailing in a big circle while the passengers do little of nothing. Big hit.
Anyway. We were invited out to the helicopter pad at the bow of the ship. This is an unusual treat, there are signs that emphatically state no passengers allowed, and from there we watched our departure from Istanbul. This is in the Marmara Sea. Istanbul sits on the isthmus that separates the Aegean Sea and the Black Sea, connecting Europe and Asia. This is, has always been and likely always be a strategic part of the world.
Constantinople, the Ottomans, now the Turks (the first member of NATO) and everyone else in Europe or Asia that’s ever invaded the other have all considered this little part of the world. The land isn’t the only key, this has been a strategic area for submarines for almost a century. But even in ancient times, we were told, there are heady days of SCUBA-type, underwater sniper ninjas with blow guns ready to pick off the invaders, should they come.
If anyone knows of a good, comprehensive popular history of the area, let me know. Having seen the layout it becomes far more interesting.
Roy, our waiter.
Roy is our waiter on the ship. He’s a very nice guy from Jamaica. He brings us too much food. If you express the slightest interest in a second dish it magically appears on your table. You learn to keep this information to yourself or you’re going to float home. Tonight he started showing us tricks.
We will amaze and amuse our friends when we get home.
Tomorrow: Kusadasi, Turkey.
honeymoon / site / video / weekend — Comments Off on A day in the park (museum and elsewhere) 23 May 10
We visited the Villa Borghese Museum today. Originally a suburban party villa, the collection that now resides there was started by by Cardinal Scipion Borghese, the nephew of Pope Paul V. From those 17th Century beginnings, coming to Napoleon’s brother-in-law and finally transforming into a public museum in the 1700s.
The museum boasts the world’s greatest Caravaggio collection and one of the best Bernini collections you can find. There is no photography in the 20-room museum, but here are our favorite sculptures for the day, first a Bernini, his famous Apollo and Daphne. It must be seen in the round, and up close. Then, even someone with little understanding of sculpture, like me, is awed. Another incredible piece is Antonio Canova’s Pauline Bonaparte, which was quite scandalous. She’s reclining on a mattress, which looks for all the world like a different stone, or perhaps like an actual mattress.
The detail in both are incredible.
All of the Caravaggios are in one room. Bernini, meanwhile, absolutely steals the show. He always does. His talent was so great that he could convert even the unartistic viewers. The man had a gift. And makes you redefine your concept of having a gift.
There is a park on the property. We rented a two-person, pedal yourself rickshaw and drove it around, enjoying the beautiful afternoon weather. I took a lot of pictures.
We had a War Eagle moment at the museum, Ren’s first international one. We were waiting to go inside — you visit by appointment — and a lady walked by and noticed my shirt. Guess I’ll have to make a WEM section for the site after all.
We went across the Tiber River into Trastevere, which has gone from medieval village, to working class neighborhood to Left Bank to high priced neighborhood to rustic and touristy. The graffiti is plentiful, though. To get there we caught a bus, which took us to a tram. We missed our stop on the tram, so we got off about six stops later to catch a tram headed the original direction. We took the correct stop (which was the intial stop for the first tram, incidentall) and wandered deep into the neighborhood.
The sky was growing dark and we are stumbling through alleys. Occassionally we wander across a little piazza that Americans have overtaken. Mostly we feel like we are in alleys. A policeman finally helps us find our way to Trattoria da Lucia. Rick Steves says “lets you enjoy simple, traditional food at a good price in a great scene. It’s the quintessential rustic, 100 percent Roman Trastevere dining experience, and has been family-run since World War II. You’ll meet four generations of the family, including Giuliano and Renato, their uncle Ennio and Ennio’s mom — pictured on the menu in the 1950s. The family specialty is spaghetti alla Gricia with pancetta bacon.”
We sit in the alley under the stars, in Italy. We are serenaded by an old man on an accordion who says “U.S.A.!” and then launches into a passionate “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.” It was perfect.
Steves has given us three great restaurants in a row, so I say pick up his books before your next European visit. I had the spaghetti alla Gricia, which was profoundly delicious. We’re ripping off that dish. And we also found the most simple, delicious summer dessert. When we get settled at home after the trip you’ll have to stop by and have some.
A table of four American ladies, a mother and her three adult daughters, were seated next to us. We exchanged names and hometowns and notes and tips on traveling in Rome. Turns out they are from not far from where my family lives. Turns out one of the ladies’ daughters is going to a basketball camp at Auburn. She gives us her card. She is a financial adviser.
We need one of those.
We got turned around in the alleys of Trastevere trying to leave, somehow emerging blocks away from where we needed to be. At first it was The Yankee’s fault (and she’s usually great at this) and then I took over, pointing us in at least the right direction. Time was of the essence. Meals aren’t to be rushed through here. Late starts and two hour dinners are the norm, and the waiters aren’t necessarily in a hurry to produce the check.
Our hotel is on the exact opposite side of Rome from Trattoria da Lucia and the buses stop running at midnight. We finally make it back to the tram stop, catching what might have been the last ride of the night back across the Tiber. We caught the absolute last bus, waiting out what seems to be the driver’s mandatory break at St. Peter’s, still miles from our place.
Finally we made it back to our neighborhood. But we missed the stop. We needed the fourth stop. The Yankee (who really is good at this sort of thing, normally) insisted we’d just made the third stop. Turns out the fifth stop is at the bus station, so we walked back from there. I’ll give her grief over that for days.
In addition to the slideshow above, there is a brief photo gallery on the day.
A bit shaky, a bit rushed, very Flip, but nonetheless: St. Peter’s Basilica, as seen from the ring around the dome. The mass choir sings. Everything here is more impressive and beautiful in person.
At the Vatican we saw what must be the world’s most comprehensive statuary collection. There’s ancient Egyptian works, Greek works, Roman impressions of Greek works (those are the newcomers) and more. You can see 5,000-year-old writing in this museum.
Finally you work your way into the Sistine Chapel. No words you have read, no pictures or video you see can prepare you for the pinnacle of Rennaissance art, so I won’t try to start.
It is a fresco, painted while wet over several years, depicting all of Biblical history of the world, from creation to Judgment Day, which is found on the front wall. The sides are painted as curtains. Overwhelming is a word you use a lot in Rome, no more deservedly than here.
The floor, incidentally, was terrible.
We had lunch at La’Isola della Pizza, of which Rick Steves says “wood-fired pizzas, sidewalk seating and home-cooking at its truest. Adele, Vito or their son Renzo serve up generous plates of their mixed antipasti and Vito himself hunts the wild boar for the cinghiale pasta.”
They offer a four-way pizza, un quattro stagioni. We chose the quattro formagi (four cheese), Gorgonzola e salsiccia (mozzarella, sausages, Gorgonzola), Capricciosa (tomato, mozarella, ham and egg (it worked, well)) and bascaiola funghi e salsiccia (mozarella, mushrooms, sausages). We were serenaded by a violinist.
We hiked the 320 steps (we paid two Euros to avoid another 180 steps) to the cupola above St. Peter’s Square. This is another tremendous view. You can see all the way to the Tiber and beyond. On the way up to the top you can see a bird’s eye view of the basilica.
We took in a mass. St. Peter is buried there, in this most ornate, overdone place on earth. Seated next to us were the Sisters of the Arrive Late, Leave Early Convent. Watching a nun check her watch during mass is great. Watching another answer her cell phone is even better.
We decided on gelato for dinner. It is our honeymoon, why not? We found some in a mid-block mall near our hotel. You walk in from the street, but it feels like an underground. Everything was closed, except the restaurant. We’re doing lots of things like that, dancing our way through Rome, hardly believing we are here. And we are only getting started.
Site stuff: Because it will otherwise get overwhelming I’m breaking up the photo galleries. I’ve posted almost 140 photos for the first two full days. Here’s yesterday’s. Click here for today’s. You’ll soon have video to stare at as well.
weekend — Comments Off on Suddenly simple Sunday 16 May 10
My goal is to have all of the laundry finished by tomorrow. Everything. This is a lofty goal. Every so often I can get everything clean, everything properly stored, and only the clothes I’m wearing not in a closet or drawer. It isn’t that I mind doing the laundry, just that I have a lot of clothes.
So I started working toward that goal this afternoon and got it down to one cycle left before the art of clean clothes completion can be realized. And that is an exciting afternoon.
We also went shopping. Headed to the local Kohl’s, where we discovered that it will be open in September. The Target next to it has opened, but Target does us little good, it was the extreme options and high savings at Kohl’s, the laggard, that we were after. So we ventured up the interstate 10 miles, down the US highway three miles to the other store.
The new Kohl’s will be the third in town. They will be in a more-or-less straight line, only 29 miles apart. While everyone loves good savings on clothes and the random housewares item, this might seem excessive.
I picked up a new pair of dress shoes — I’ve walked the sole out of my brown loafers, one more good pivot will have sock touching the cruel, unforgiving ground; shame, really, I like those shoes. I also bought a pair of tennis shoes. Picked up one pair of khaki slacks and two pairs of shorts. The Yankee bought things.
She had on a Samford shirt. The cashier’s daughter is about to join the SU softball team. Maybe that’s why she looked through the traditional Kohl’s scratch off savings cards for the higher percentage. Something to do with the jagged edge of the scratch off material. That little tidbit helped us save not just 15 percent, the typical, but 20 percent.
After that we somehow managed to score a $50 Kohl’s cash incentive, which tripped some other savings, somehow.
In all we saved more than half.
So we celebrated by going to Walmart. We bumped into old family friends, caught up on the latest goings on and adventures. We stretched the stories out because the sky opened up and the clouds poured on rain without repent.
I tested my blood pressure — perfectly normal, thank you. They have the new Dr. Scholl’s foot measurement machine. It finds that my balance is much better than its Wii counterpart suggests. This machine gives you a pressure read out on the screen before you. It looks like storms in the shape of human feet is descending upon your town. I seem to stand with most of my weight in the heels of my feet.
Despite that the loafers that are falling apart in the ball of the foot.
But the machine says I have normal arches and reasonable foot pressure, so there’s that.
Dinner with The Yankee and Wendy, who chose Outback. The rain killed that place dead tonight. Our waitress, shockingly, admitted she was burned out on the bloomin’ onion. She said she could get fired for saying that, which seems a bit excessive.
While we were there Tom Petty’s American Girl made its way through the speakers.
And that’s the global economy to me: A Petty song about American girls playing in an American-owned restaurant using an Australian-motif that is open on five continents. (Including Australia.)
At home I watched W. You take Oliver Stone with a grain of salt, but aside from a few of the quotes being put in the wrong places a lot of this felt, sadly, real.
And so to cheer up I watched The Wrestler. Or part of it. I liked this movie better when it was Rocky Balboa. IMDB says the Wrestler was shot in a month, and it feels like it. There’s the documentary feel of the camera angles and that got old quickly.
So I bailed on that right about there. Yes, yes, great movie. Mickey Rourke is no doubt brilliant, but I didn’t need to hear him exhale every third breath. There’s probably some great cameo I missed near the end, but I’ll live. Did Rourke’s character? Do I care? Clearly not.
