All Roads Lead To Rome…

Saturday September 1, 2012 – ROME, ITALY

This is not a sign that most people pay attention to.

…but some of them are rather circuitous.  If my dad hadn’t asked a conductor if we were on the right train, I would be in Milan right now.  Luckily, we were able to change trains after one stop and get to the right city.

While the mishap with the trains kind of killed the morning, my plan for the day was more or less unaffected. 

Probably one of my favorite museums in the world, The Capitoline Museum sits perched on Capitol Hill.  Its café on the second floor offers some of the best views of the city.  

Inside, the museum is partially built around the ruins of a temple to Jupiter.  If you’re super cheap, you can actually head down to the basement, see these ruins, and have an unparalleled view of The Forum.  The museum even kindly provides signs that tell you what you’re looking at in the forum, so you don’t even have to wait on the massive lines and pay admission to see the site.  

Upstairs, there’s an amazing collection of busts of emperors and philosophers collected with other sculpture and painting.  While I was there, the museum had a special exhibition on called Lux in Arcana marking the 400^th anniversary of the foundation of the Vatican secret archives.  They actually had selected pieces from the secret archives on display.  They had records of votes from conclave, a letter from Hirohito congratulating Pope Pius XII on becoming pope, the last letter from Mary Queen of Scots to Pope Sixtus V, the actual document excommunicating Martin Luther, the transcript from the trial of Galileo and of the Knights Templar, and letters from Abraham Lincoln and Jefferson Davis to Pope Pius IX along with a ton of other stuff.  There was so much church history in those rooms and that’s just the stuff they’re letting the public see. 

In a similar vein, I crossed the border from Italy to The Holy See to see St. Peter’s Basilica.  Midafternoon is absolutely the time to visit; I have never seen the lines so short.  Incidentally, I was there while mass was on, so I didn’t get down into the grotto (the entrance is way up in the front), but the part that wasn’t closed off to tourists still had plenty to see.  I have apparently been obsessed with the Pieta since I was 5 (that’s the story my mother tells, so I don’t know how seriously to take it), but I do know it’s one of my favorite parts of the Basilica.  No matter how many cathedrals I go to, St. Peter’s Basilica never gets old.  Bernini, without a doubt my favorite sculptor, designed the façade, colonnade, and baldachin at St. Peters, so that’s always a highlight for me.

Finally (because it’s open until 7:30), I walked to the Pantheon.  This is my other favorite building in Rome, but that has a lot to do with the fact that I did a paper in sixth grade on roman engineering and spent a lot of time talking about the dome and oculus of the Pantheon.  The Pantheon is kind of plain looking now because it has suffered some heavy looting over the years.  Hadrian had it built to honor all of the gods and it is a marvel of roman architecture.  The brick of the walls is arranged in arches to distribute the weight of the concrete roof.  The roof is freaking concrete, but has square cutouts to help reduce the weight.  The oculus was constructed so as to use the tension around the opening to help keep the roof up.  Not bad for a civilization that approximated pi to 4.  It was turned into a church by the Christian rulers and seems to still hold services.  It also houses the tombs of the first two kings of unified Italy and Raphael.  The latter’s tomb is inscribed with "Ille hic est Raffael, timuit quo sospite vinci, rerum magna parens et moriente mori," meaning: "Here lies that Raphael by whom Nature feared to be conquered while he lived, and when he was dying, feared herself to die".  Or something like that.  My Latin’s a little rusty.

This morning, before heading to the airport, I stopped by the Borghese Gallery.  There are some lovely painting upstairs, but I really go for the sculpture on the ground floor.  Among others (the Borgheses were ridiculously wealthy), the gallery features Bernini’s Apollo and Daphne, David, Aeneas and Anchises, and The Rape of Persephone.  Aeneas and Anchises depicts Aeneas, his father, and his son fleeing the burning Troy.  His father holds the household gods and his son holds the eternal flame; Aeneas is the founder of Latium, later Italy, and the father of the Romans.  The Rape of Persephone is terrifyingly detailed.  Persephone’s skin actually dimples where Hades grabs her and you can see the tracks of two tears on her face.  David, borrowing Bernini’s own face, shows David about to loose a stone from his sling; this was the first sculpture of David to show him in motion.  Finally, Daphne and Apollo (my favorite), depicts the most dramatic and dynamic moment in one of Ovid's stories in his Metamorphoses. In the story, Apollo, the god of light, scolded Eros, the god of love, for playing with adult weapons. In retribution, Eros wounded Apollo with a golden arrow that induced him to fall madly in love at the sight of Daphne, a water nymph sworn to perpetual virginity, who, in addition, had been struck by Eros with a lead arrow which caused her to harshly spurn Apollo's advances. The sculpture depicts the moment when Apollo finally captures Daphne, yet she has implored her father, the river god, to destroy her beauty and repel Apollo's advances by transforming her into a laurel tree.  This particular part of the story features one of my favorite lines in classical literature, roughly translated: “If you will not be my wife, you will be my tree!”  Firstly, great story.  Secondly, hilariously bad translation forced on our class by my evil Latin III Honors teacher.  The Borghese Gallery is one of the best small museums, and I mean small.  It’s 100% worth it to get there at 9AM when it opens because it gets crowded quickly.

That’s the trip.  I’ll be back home in New York soon and I’ll throw these up on the web along with pictures.

In the Shadow of a Volcano, Part 2

Thursday August 30, 2012 – SORRENTO, ITALY

This morning brought me to the shadow of another Italian volcano: Vesuvius.  Quite literally, in fact.  Instead of spending the day in Sorrento and on the Amalfi Coast, I raced up from the port to the train station and caught the Circumvesuviana train to Naples.  While this is actually my third visit to the area, I had yet to visit the Archeological Museum in Naples.  This has a lot to do with the fact that Naples is kind of a scary city, but this museum houses the vast majority of the Pompeii and Herculaneum frescoes and mosaics.

Going to see the mosaics is definitely worth it.  They are some of the best preserved I’ve ever seen.  Most significantly, the Museum (housed in an old Bourbon Palace) features “The Secret Room” which is 100% Ancient Roman erotica. It used to be that you needed special permission from the king to see the room, but now it’s included with admission.  The Museum also houses the Farnese marbles, which are really quite spectacular.

That’s my day.  I wandered around Sorrento for a bit, but I do much since I didn’t get back until about 3 PM because I caught the slow train by accident.  The two Circumvesuviana trains aren’t that different; the DD will get you to Naples in about 50 minutes while the D train will get you there in 80.  It makes a difference, but not a significant one.

The Amalfi Coast and the coastline from Sorrento to Naples combined form the mythic homes of three of the best-known Odysseus myths: Circe, The Cyclops, and The Sirens.  Well, maybe the Cyclops.  It all depends on how you interpret things.  Some scholars think that the Cyclops were metaphors for the volcanoes of this area; an erupting volcano could easily be called an injured, one-eyed giant.  I don’t know how seriously I take that theory.  Personally, I think it’s more likely that the ancient peoples of the area dug up the scull of a dwarf elephant - which kind of looks like it has one eye - and decided that it belonged to an extinct race of one-eyed giants.  

That, by the way, is the other story on the Cyclops.  A little south, you can find the islands of the Sirens.  What’s cool about this area is that the rocks actually sing when the wind blows through them right, so you can totally see how a bunch of tired sailors might be attracted to the song thinking that it belonged to females.  You can also see the sharp pointy rocks that would have spelled their demise.  A little north, you can find the spot that, based on some creative cartography and study of the Odyssey, scholars figure Circe would have lived.  She’s the lady who tricked Odysseus’s men into eating her food and drinking her wine so that she could turn them into pigs for eating with poor manners after being at sea in a boat with only dudes for years.  Odysseus, with the help of a magic potion, resists her charms, sleeps with her, and convinces her to turn his men back into men.  And she does.

That essentially ends my Odyssey stories.  Tomorrow, I’ll head to Civitavecchia, the port associated with Rome.

The Domain of Aeolus

Wednesday August 29, 2012 – LIPARI, ITALY

What’s that?  You were itching for more mythology?  Fantastic!  Because I have more stories to tell and very little actual travelogue content for this post.

Lipari is one of the Aeolian Islands and, quite frankly, there’s not much to do.  The island is small enough to drive around in about an hour and a half and the main town of Lipari features a somewhat difficult to find archeological museum (which was closed when I was there) and a fortress.  The fortress is really quite nice.  It’s free to get in and it offers some lovely views of picturesque towns near by.  If you’re feeling especially cool, go to a deli and pick up some bread and sandwich fixings and take a small picnic to the amphitheater in the fortress.  

However, I would recommend that you find Le Macine.  

They do pizza and they do pizza so right. I had the Arrabiatta and it was pretty damn amazing.  They also serve some pretty amazing post-meal liquors.  There’s one that’s made from cactus fruit, there’s another that’s some kind of melon, and a third that is a terrifying green something.  Don’t drink the green one.

One of the cool things about the itinerary of this particular trip is that it kind of follows The Odyssey.  Last night, we passed through the Straights of Messina, which, in myth, is known as the passage between Scylla and Charybdis.  That’s a story that everyone knows pretty well.  It’s the origin of the phrase “between a rock and a hard place”.  Of course Odysseus didn’t get to chart a course between the two monsters.  Even after choosing Scylla, Poseidon pushed Odysseus’s ship into Charybdis because he’s a dick.  Also because Odysseus poked the eye out of one of his sons Polyphemus and bragged about it, but mostly because he and most of the Greek gods can be real dicks sometimes.

Early on in his trip Odysseus found himself on the island of Aeolus.  With after a little sweet talkin’ Aeolus, god of the winds, decided to help Odysseus get home.  He bundled all of the difficult winds into a bag and gave it to Odysseus with strict instructions not to open the bag.  Naturally, just when Ithaca is in sight, Odysseus’s crew opens the bag while he’s taking a nap and get themselves blown all the way back to the Tyrrhenian Sea.  Moral: don’t nap near untrustworthy people.

Tomorrow I head off for Sorrento, which means the Sirens, Circe, and the Cyclops!  Also the Neapolitan Archeological Museum, but that’s neither here nor there.

In the Shadow of a Volcano, Part 1

Tuesday, August 28, 2012 – CATANIA, SICILY

Do not kick a Sicilian pigeon.  I swear to god it was an accident, but it is not fun to learn the hard way that Sicilian pigeons fight back.

Today the boat docked in Catania, a bustling fishing town on the eastern coast of Sicily.  Of note in Catania are the fish market and statue of an elephant in the Piazza del Duomo.  

The fish market is a loud, bustling outdoor event.  Vendors shout at each other in Sicilian Italian and shoppers pop between the butchers, ironmongers, cheese, and - of course - fish stalls.  Catania is primarily a fishing town, not a tourist attraction, so the fish market has not yet been overrun with tee shirt and snow globe vendors. You can totally find tee shirt and snow globe vendors scattered throughout the city because this is where most of the cruise ships dock for this area of Sicily, but the fish market functions to sell fish.  It’s pretty neat.  The elephant has a slightly funnier story.  The elephant is the symbol of this particular city and it sports this hilariously creepy smile…

…because it also sports this…

The people of Catania chose the elephant because it was strong and manly, but they couldn’t tell if it was a boy elephant or a girl elephant.  So they made sure that no one would have any questions.

From essentially anywhere on the northeastern coast of the island, you can see Etna.  It’s the highest volcano in Europe and certainly the most active.  The most dramatic eruption took place in 1669 when lava flow partly engulfed Catania, reaching as far as the sea.  Since then, Etna has grumbled several times and remains under constant surveillance.  Monitors can provide 14 days’ warning of an eruption; so if you haven’t heard anything, you can assume the next 14 days will be safe.  I am not ashamed to say that volcanoes kind of freak me out.  This is not my first time on Sicily nor is it my first time in this part of Sicily and I still have zero desire to attempt to climb Etna.  I am perfectly happy to stand and look at it from a safe distance below. 

Because this is not my first visit, I chose not to go back to Taormina.  It’s perfectly nice, but I thought I would hit ancient Syracuse this time.  In the historic quarter of the town, Neapolis, you can find the Archeological Park, which features the best-preserved Greek theater outside of Greece.  Aeschylus premiered some of his plays there during the spring drama festival (I talk more about ancient Greek theater here). The archeological park also features a Roman amphitheater, a football field sized altar to Zeus, and the Orecchio di Dioniso.  That last one is part of the massive limestone quarry just east of the theater.  The story goes that the tyrant king Dionysus eavesdropped on the conversations of the prisoners working the mine and the cut that supposedly looks like a human ear has since been known as the Orecchio di Dioniso.  Up the street about 3 blocks is the Archeological Museum, which is worth the higher ticket price at the park.  It houses a seriously impressive collection of ancient coins and seals from various famous ancients who lived in Syracuse like Plato and Archimedes.  

Malta

Monday August 27, 2012 – VALLETTA, MALTA

Malta has a pretty intense history, which (surprisingly) extends beyond the knights of St. John.    Purely by accident, my tour of the island followed the islands history in chronological order.

The Neolithic temples at Ħaġar Qim (the “H” and the “Q” are silent and the “G” is soft.  Malti is a crazy-ass language) and Mnajdra (I don’t even know how to begin…) are impressively well preserved.  In order to maintain the site, the whole thing has been covered in a protective tent, which makes visiting in the heat of August quite pleasant.  Features of temple architecture reveal accommodations for animal sacrifices, burnt offerings and ritual oracles.  Recesses were used as depositories for sacrificial remains. Excavation has uncovered numerous statuettes of deities and highly decorated pottery.

No burials exist in the temple or the area surrounding Ħaġar Qim, nor have any human bones been discovered in Maltese temples. Bones of numerous sacrificial animals have been found. It is theorized that the Ħaġar Qim complex was built in three stages, beginning with the 'Old Temple' northern apses, followed by the 'New Temple', and finally the completion of the entire structure.  500 meters from Ħaġar Qim stands the Mnajdra megalithic temple.  The lowest temple is astronomically aligned and was probably used as an astronomical observation and/or calendrical site. On the vernal and the autumnal equinox sunlight passes through the main doorway and lights up the major axis. On the solstices sunlight illuminates the edges of megaliths to the left and right of this doorway. The temples contain furniture such as stone benches and tables that give clues to their use. Many artifacts were recovered from within the temples suggesting that these temples were used for religious purposes, perhaps to heal illness and/or to promote fertility.

Continuing through history, I drove to Mdina.  This ancient walled city is known as “The Silent City” because supposedly cars/motor vehicles are not allowed inside the city.  In practice, that isn’t entirely true.  Mdina is the pre-Knights of St. John capital and was built on the highest point on the island to protect the city from pirates.  The big deal here is St. Paul’s Cathedral.  According to legend, this is the spot where St. Paul himself converted the Roman governor to Christianity.  I did not actually go inside because the guidebooks pretty much only mention the exterior and I had to get back to Valetta, but the exterior is quite impressive.  The nearby museum houses religious art and vestments, which are pretty nice.  The city is primarily picturesque, so I took lots of artsy pictures for my Tumblr blog and headed back to Valetta.

[To be perfectly honest, I took a quick detour to Marsaxlokk.  It’s a fishing village.  It’s pretty.  There’s not much else to say about it.]

In Valletta, I visited St. John’s Co-Cathedral (that’s what it’s actually called.  It’s the seat of two different dioceses) and the Grand Master’s Palace.  The Grand Master’s Palace is questionably worth a visit.  It takes up an entire city block, which is enormous by Maltese standards, and is now the seat of parliament; so only a small part is open to the public.  It houses some lovely paintings, armor, and impressive rooms.  None of it is that unique.  It’s nice, but not “My trip to Malta will be incomplete without it” nice.  The Co-Cathedral is definitely worth it.  Hundreds of Knights are buried under the floor of the Cathedral and the slabs of marble marking their graves tell an impressive story.  The big draw of the Cathedral is Caravaggio’s The Beheading of St. John, housed in the oratory.  This painting actually got him excommunicated from the order of the knights of St. John because it was so different from anything they had seen before.  The chapels surrounding the main part of the church are very interesting, housing an array of art and relics (I’m pretty sure one of them has the entire body of St. Agatha or Agnes or something like that).  The Museum has some tapestries and vestments, so not really worth it.

Because I know you all wanted a picture of the Maltese Stock Exchange...

Malta really is a lovely country.  If you’ve ever read V., Pynchon conjures the look of tiny island nation quite accurately. I don’t have any mythology to close this post, so I’ll just recommend V. for anyone that hasn’t read it and has three months to try to get through it.  I cannot honestly describe what it’s about, so I’ll just let Wikipedia do the work for me.

The Land of Agamemnon

Saturday August 25, 2012 – NAFPLION, GREECE

There are about 40 different ways to spell Nafplion.  I’m pretty sure every road sign says something different, the guidebooks can’t agree, and Word thinks I’m trying to spell Napoleon.  For the sake of clarity, I’m just going to use Nafplion.

Nafplion was the capital of Greece until the king the rest of Europe decided Greece needed moved to Athens.  Athens took a little longer to be liberated than the Peloponnese, so this was the city the Greeks used as their capital.  When King Otto arrived (Greece had no royalty, so Europe told them a Prussian prince would be their ruler.  Come to think of it, Greece has a history of being controlled by Germany…), he decided to move the capital to Athens because he was an admirer of antiquity.  Nafplion is still pretty damn proud of the fact that they were once the capital and the people there like to remind you.  However, this region (Argolis) has a history of importance aside from the distinction of playing host to the capital for a few years…

Epidaurus, about 19 miles from Nafplion, is the legendary home of Asclepius, the god of healing.  A demigod (the son of Apollo and a mortal woman), his mother was struck dead just as he was being born thus granting him knowledge of life, death, and how to get from one state to the other.  The foundations of a labyrinth under mysterious circular temple can still be seen, which may or may not have been considered the tomb of Asclepius himself.  Another purpose is however slightly more likely: a test of faith.  In ancient Greece, healing took a full 24 hours (which seems really short by modern standards, but bear with me). At the beginning of the day, your body would have been purified in the spa.  After being physically cleansed, you would be spiritually cleansed.  In order to be worthy of healing, you had to pass a test of faith, which may or may not have been getting out of the labyrinth intact. Personally, that would be the worst of the healing ordeal; I’ve tried to do school work while sick and I don’t think I would survive any kind of test, let alone a test of faith.  After the test of faith, the sick would be moved to a stoa where they would sleep and hope to be cured by intercession with the divine powers.  Flawed though American healthcare may be, I’ll take it over a visit to the cult of Asclepius any day.

In addition to the healing center, Epidaurus features an amazingly well preserved theater.  

It supposedly has perfect acoustics. I actually got up on the center mark of the orchestra and performed my Shakespeare competition monologue and a group of Spanish tourists at the way back of the "gazing space" cheered very supportively, so I’m guessing the bit about the acoustics is true.  Theater was a holy rite for the Ancient Greeks.  In the spring for the festival of Dionysus, a tragedy competition would be held to see who could write the best play.  It is from this tradition that we get the great Greek tragedies like the Oedipus Cycle and the Oresteia (more on that one in a little bit).  However, more than a way to win a competition, the plays served as a cleansing process for the conscience of the entire city.  By watching some bad guy get their just deserts, the city as a whole learned a lesson about morality and experienced Catharsis. Through the play, the city was washed of its sins and was able to start the new year fresh. 

This region of the Peloponnese is steeped with mythic history.  It is purported to go like this: 

Pelops, a great hero, was in want of a wife. Across the Isthmus of Corinth, he heard there was a very beautiful princess; so he set off to make her his wife.  However, she had a very protective father.  Poseidon had given this King a set of invincible horses so he challenged every suitor to a chariot race for the hand of his daughter.  Since his horses could not be beaten, the suitors would invariably lose and the King would have them put to death.  Pelops, being a great hero and knowing about this trick, convinced the head of the King’s stables to help him win the hand of the princess.  Knowing he could not conquer the horses, he decided to conquer the chariot.  On the day of the race, the two men set off and the King’s chariot promptly fell to bits.  Pelops, who had replaced the proper nails with ones made of wax, won the hand of the princess and the control of her father’s kingdom.  He and the princess had two sons named Atreus and Thyestes.  Upon the death of Pelops (after whom the peninsula is named), the kingdom was split into two.  I have yet to hear of a story where dividing the kingdom ends well.  The boys fought over the fertile river valley that fell near the border between the two kingdoms.  For a variety of reasons primarily having to do with a golden fleece, Thyestes sleeps with Atreus’ wife.  Atreus, who is rightfully pissed, kills the sons of Thyestes and feeds the boys to their father.  Thyestes, also rightfully pissed, kills Atreus.  Atreus’s sons, Menelaus and Agamemnon, kill Thyestes and take over the kingdoms.  Menelaus becomes the king of Sparta while Agamemnon maintains control of Mycenae.  This whole process curses the house of Atreus for generations to come. 

In spite of all this killing, Atreus’ family finds time to bury him in a tomb that can still be found today.  The Treasury of Atreus, so called because the offerings left at the tombs of the deceased were so rich as to make the tomb synonymous with treasury in ancient Greek, is a classic example of Mycenaean architecture, which was designed to melt into the landscape. 

After burying the deceased in what is essentially a reinforced hill, the people of his or her house would wait 40 days and then have a feast to celebrate the soul of the deceased making it to the afterlife.  This banquet would be held in the funnel-like pathway to the door of the tomb. Afterwards, the guests would bury the remains of the banquet so that the entrance to the tomb melted into the hill.  When someone else in the family died, everyone would get together and do the whole thing over again using the utensils they had buried after the previous funeral.  While questionably sanitary, it’s a tradition that to a certain extent lives on in Greek culture; after 40 days the family of a deceased person gets together and eats sweets, which apparently you aren’t supposed to eat while you’re in mourning.

A little up the way are the remains of the acropolis of Mycenae.  

According to myth, the city was founded by Perseus son of Zeus who enlisted the help of the Cyclops to move the colossal blocks of stone that form the walls of the city.  The ruins of the Atrides Palace (if you’re wondering why that sounds familiar, the answer is Dune; however it more or less means “of the house of Atreus”) are still visible today.  This is where Agamemnon would have ruled and also where he would have been killed in the bathtub by his wife and her lover.  Quite frankly, the myth here is more fun than the ruins, so I’m going back to that…

As I said, the house of Atreus was cursed by all the killing.  It so happened that all the kings of Ancient Greece, including the Atrides brothers, were chasing after the same woman: Helen.  Odysseus, king of Ithaca, got all the kings together and made a pact: they would be allied and let Helen choose her own husband.  He was probably hoping she would look favorably upon this gesture and pick him, but she didn’t.  She picked Menelaus.  Odysseus didn’t go home empty handed though.  He married Helen’s sister Penelope while Agamemnon married her sister Clytemnestra.  Surprisingly, things went ok for a while, until the wedding of Thetis, a goddess, and Peleus, a mortal.  It was at this wedding that Eris decided to throw out a golden apple inscribed with “For the Fairest”.  After all the women at the wedding fought over the apple, the contest came down to three: Athena, Aphrodite, and Hera.  Zeus, wisely deciding not to piss off any of the people he had to live with, delegated the task of judging the contest to Paris, a prince of Troy.  In return for choosing her as the fairest, Aphrodite promises Paris the love of the most beautiful woman in the world.  One problem:  she was married.  Paris decides to travel to Sparta to see this woman.  They fall in love with each other at first sight.  Paris spirits her away, thereby beginning the Trojan War.

Menelaus, upon waking up to find his wife gone, sets off for Mycenae to get Agamemnon and to call together all the Kings that were involved in the Helen Pact.  He brings together all the Kings and heroes and they set off for Troy.  Or at least they try to.  They end up trapped in port for an inordinately long period of time by unfavorable winds.  Agamemnon, itching to get to war, goes to the temple of Apollo to ask the God how to bring the winds back.  The answer turns out to be that he has to sacrifice his daughter, Iphigenia.  So Agamemnon does.  Notably, he does so without asking Clytemnestra who is rightfully pissed off with her husband for sacrificing their daughter so he could get to war faster.

Fast forward ten or so years. Achilles is dead; Menelaus got Helen back (although their marriage was never quite the same); Odysseus is heading home; and Agamemnon returns to Mycenae to lead the victory procession in a chariot accompanied by a slave girl in the place his wife should have stood in his chariot.  Clytemnestra, still kind of angry about the daughter thing, convinces her lover, Aegisthus, to kill Agamemnon so that they can rule together properly.  So he does.  Of course this has to be avenged, so Electra (Agamemnon’s other daughter) convinces her brother Orestes to kill Clytemnestra and Aegisthus.  So he does and he is hounded by the harpies until he convinces Athena to convene the first jury to decide whether he needs to be properly punished for avenging the death of his father by committing matricide.  The jury decides that the virtue of avenging the death of his father took precedent over the sin of killing his mother, so they let him off.

And that is, more or less, the story of the Oresteia.  At least the Agamemnon bits.  Wasn’t that more interesting that me talking about rocks for a page and a half?