A forgotten snippet

Don't tell me you wouldn't too.

When Ms Sat Nav says, 'Turn right on Via Galileo Galilei,' it is compulsory to burst into song. 
'Galileo, Galileo, Beelzebub has a ...'

And speaking of the man there is a rather fine portrait of him in the Uffizi. It was painted after he'd been found guilty of heresy by the Roman Inquisition for suggesting the ridiculous idea that the earth revolves around the sun.

There is also a 'thing' in a square - and of course I can't remember the details of it but both tree and dodecahedron are significant. (Spellcheck has suggested I meant to say rhododendron.)

P.S. "... the mulberry tree “represents the mysteries of nature” and was one of Leonardo’s favourite plants. The dodecahedron, on the other hand, represented the entire universe for the ancient Greeks and the Renaissance Neoplatonists." From The Florentine

It's art, Jim, but not as you know it

The commune of San Quirico d'Orcia had an exhibition entitled Fragile Art. Exhibits were scattered all over the small town, some impressive, some less so.

If I could read Italian I could probably tell you more about it ...

I don't think these mice were part of the exhibition but I did like them.

And, of course, if there's an antique carousel in the centre of Florence one has to ride on it.

The Uffizi sparrow

A number of them enjoyed the crumbs - not many after I'd licked the plate - left over from our sort of custard tart thing.

And on the topic of animals it was interesting to read that a dog was not considered suitable material for a scared painting. Or a sacred one. 

They were, however, regarded as a sign of marital fidelity if included in a secular painting. (I thought I had an example but it appears not.)

And I can only imagine the size of the spiders that made these webs on Isola Povlese. Many of the trees were coated in this fine silver film.

Italian snippets

Every now and then I thought of something to write on my blog. Little snippets. So I made a list on an old receipt and you, lucky people, can now benefit from it.

To get to Florence we travelled upstairs on a double decker train. I've never seen one before!

On the train apropos of nothing Husband said, 'How do you spell algae?'
'A-l-g-a-e.'
'Thank you.'

It is incredibly painful having to walk past used and new bookshops. Just because it's pointless to go in and browse doesn't make it any easier.

In the cafe at the Uffizi I noticed this girl. A film star in the making?

I noticed - again - that I was the one who would always give way when walking through a crowd. I determined I wouldn't and nearly collided with a young girl as a result. We played chicken and she swerved at the last minute. Honestly, I am old; young people should give way to me.

The second campsite was the same age as me but had worn better.

You could have played Join the Dots on my legs with the number of bites I acquired.

Husband commented and I agreed that on coming into Italy there should be a sign saying, 'All our roads - except toll - are bendy and bumpy as well as prone to ice and leaping deer.' It would save no end of metal signage all over the country. 

And speaking of leaping deer I remarked to Husband that I wondered if anyone had ever seen a deer on any of the motorways. I had no sooner said that than we saw one: dead on the kerb. I will take those signs seriously in future.

We were in chianti country but as I don't drink and have never seen the film that was irrelevant to me. Apart from the very pretty scenery.

Florence and the cowboys

Gosh, big gap between posts. Blog posts that is not goal. Although it would have to be a very big gap between goal posts for me to score. Anyway, home from holiday but seem to have been busy ever since. Internet was intermittent on camp sites so posting there was difficult and time has been hard to find since I've come home.

Today I have to start preparing to lead bible study in Zac's on Tuesday but before that, in between loading washing machine and tumble dryer numerous times, I plan to watch England play their first game in the rugby world cup. But before that I have a little time - not enough to get started on studying - so thought I'd write a post or maybe two. But where to begin?

Husband wasn't very well on holiday and has continued in that vein since coming home: he spent most of yesterday in bed, some sort of flu-like ailment. Well enough today to sit and watch rugby but I must make sure he doesn't try to do anything else. 

Daughter and family stayed here to look after George while we were away and as their builders hadn't finished they stayed on until yesterday. Lovely having the grandchildren here, making me up to look like a vampire, taking out and putting in my earrings, insisting on having a treasure hunt, and generally following me around.

Our planned - probably last of the season - barbecue yesterday turned into an indoors dinner when it started to rain. 

But you really want to know about our holiday, don't you?

Florence
Six hours walking around Florence scuppered my knee. Most of that walking was around the Uffizi Gallery. While there were some amazing paintings and sculptures, there are only so many Annunciations you want to see. Especially as many were obviously based on earlier works. Prepare for a photo deluge. Apologies for poor quality in many cases.

These two were my personal favourites. In the nativity scene, apart from the braying donkey, I love the look on Joseph's face. My labour with Daughter started at 11.00 pm and she wasn't born until 2.30 pm. Husband has never forgotten and often relates how I forced him to sit up all night with me - while I could get little naps in bed, you understand. I see the same look on Joseph's face.

And this one is called Socrates although later art historians think it isn't The Socrates. You can't really see very well from my photo but his nose is very big and up-turned and he has a grin. He made me smile a lot.

And this one, a young Medici I believe, caused a debate between me and an American woman. 'I think he looks like he will grow to be a serial killer,' she said.

'Oh no, he looks sweet,' I began, but then I noticed his hand, 'although it does look as though he is squeezing the life out of that bird.'

The most famous painting in the Uffizi is The Birth of Venus by Botticelli. 

You can't touch the paintings obviously - nor can you point too closely at them as I discovered after I noticed that each time I pointed at a detail there was a beeping noise. Magic invisible security. 

Some of the exhibits, however, were available in 'braille' form designed for those with sight problems. So next to the painting was this raised copy, which you were encouraged to touch.

I was totally in awe of the skill of these artists. Many of the paintings were huge and so detailed and so perfect. As someone who just manages to draw cartoon stick figures I just stand and stare in wonder.

The Gallery itself is stunning - especially the ceilings.

Going through my photos I realise there is so much more I want to share but I don't want you to get bored so I'll save more art for another time.

Probably the most iconic building in Florence is the Duomo - the cathedral. It's possible to go to the top of the dome but with 468 steps not advisable for those with dodgy hearts (it says so). I did plan to go back another day and do it on my own but then my knee went funny plus the temperature was in the 30s so we visited some cowboy country instead.We didn't get to see Michelangelo's David either so another trip to Florence, maybe in springtime when it's not so hot, is called for I think although Husband says he has ticked Florence off his list.

Boring post about holiday no. 1

We returned home at the beginning of this week after driving 2,783.4 miles, taking more than 715 photos, eating more Italian food than was probably good for us, failing to eat an ice cream every day (shock! horror!) and having not enough cuddles with new grandbaby. What would have been enough? Nothing.

GrandChild6/GrandSon4 is of course utterly eatable and delicious. And already is well versed in the Italian habit of eating out, having slept peacefully through a late Saturday evening restaurant meal and a long Sunday afternoon baptism feast. Not so hot at sleeping at night but, hey, that will come.

Now I could be really boring about our holiday but I'll try to sum it up in a few - well, maybe more than a few - selected photos.

We were staying in the Piemonte area between the foothills of the Alps and the Langhe, the area that produces Italy's most famous and expensive wine, Barolo, so our excursions took us up into the mountains and south into the vineyards, as well as into any number of quaint old towns and villages each with their own particular features. We were fortunate to have incredible weather for the whole of our time there with temperatures never dropping below the high 20s. Also fortunately both our bed & breakfast, Villa Laura, and the in-laws had their own pools so we were able to cool down when it got too much. Incidentally if you're planning a trip to the area I can't recommend Villa Laura enough.

Breakfast by the pool.

Vineyards in the Montfort d'Alba surrounds

Now that's what I call a sweet shop!

These cows were unusual: in Italy it seems to be that they tend to keep cows inside and dogs outside.

There were so many examples of trompe l'oeil everywhere that I began to struggle to differentiate.

By the time Husband had taken this photo the icy cold of the Alpine stream had spread up to my knees.

We were fortunate enough to spot a small group (herd?) of chamois deer.

Lago della ravina (possibly). Unfortunately there was a sign forbidding swimming but it was very tempting. (I can say that now; at the time I thought the water was just a tad cold!)

And just because you have to leave a Welsh inuksuk (not authentic - Husband pointed out that the original ones we saw in Canada had two 'legs'.)

Frolicking in the fountain at Mondovi.

From La Morro (I think).

From the clock tower at La Morro.

La Morro.

This was in a nature reserve but it's in this area that they grow the hazelnuts for Nutella.

What did the church ever do for me?

I might have issues with organised religion - especially since reading Pagan Christianity - but that didn't stop me wandering around Rome and Venice with a permanently awestruck look on my face. You can't fail to wonder at the skill of the builders and the art of the craftsmen who created such fabulous monuments that have survived for centuries.

Whatever you may think about Christianity, religion or more specifically Roman Catholicism, the powers behind it did a great service to culture when they commissioned the greatest artists and architects of the times. Even if it was often more about power and 'I'm having a bigger one built than you did because I'm greater than you are,' than about glory to God.

St. Peter's Basilica

In the Vatican Museum

St. Mark's

Not forgetting the game

'We don't need to buy our tickets before we go; we can get them in Rome.'

So said Husband. And we did but only after spending the best part of half a day wandering the lesser-known streets of Rome trying to find somewhere that sold them and ending up going to the Stadio Olympico itself for them. On the plus side our bus tickets gave us 10% discount so, in spite of the rain, the long bus journey and the fear that we wouldn't manage to get any, Husband was pleased because he got a bargain ...

Before the game began an Italian supporter came up to me and asked if we could swap hats. I said, 'No!'

'Okay, then,' he said, 'we make a deal. When Italy wins you give me your flower; if Wales wins I give you my hat.'

We shook on it. Husband said, 'That was a bit brave of you,' but I had confidence in my boys. Well placed confidence. It wasn't a brilliant game - the terrible rain prevented that - but we got the right result. So afterwards, as my new friend was showing sudden reluctance I marched up to him, prodded him in the shoulder and held out my hand. He sighed. 'Um, er, what do I say? Um, congratulations'

Then we swapped hats in the spirit of good rugby nations and posed for the cameras.

Incidentally if I was hoping that my daffodil hat and red jumper would make me stand out from the crowd - and possibly get on telly - I was badly misjudging the enthusiasm of Welsh supporters for showing their Welshness. From dragons to flags to kilts to leeks to onesies, they were all there in all their glamour.

Some things never change

'Let's go and visit the catacombs,' says I. 'The ancient underground burial site for Christians.'

You see, I knew what it was so why the fact that we had to go underground to see the tombs should surprise me is anybody's guess. I don't like heights and I don't like depths. We'd gone about 5 minutes with our guided tour group into this underground warren when the reality hit me and I whispered to Husband, 'I don't think I can do this.'

As I couldn't have found my way out on my own I didn't have a lot of choice but I was starting to get panicky - bit like when I went to the opticians' but that's another story - but Husband said, 'Yes, you can. Just concentrate on what he's saying.'

The guide must have thought I was a hugely interested and attentive listener as I focused all my thoughts on him and tried to ignore the sweating and slightly sick feeling.

Anyway it worked although if he'd said, 'Now we're going down to the third level,' I'd definitely have thrown a wobbly. A fascinating place, these particular catacombs are said to have contained the body of Peter, the apostle, before Christianity was legalised and his bones moved to what is now under St. Peter's Basilica.

And the things that never change? When the catacombs were excavated they found graffiti on the walls. Not your usual Sally loves Johnny type stuff, but prayers to Peter and, I think, Paul. Photos weren't allowed to be taken in the tombs so I've had to rely on postcards.

Back then there was nothing the typical Roman family liked more than a day out at the Colosseum to watch a  few men killing each other. It was a long day so the families would take picnics or barbecues as well as craft work, music or writing. 

But then as now, put a group of men together supposedly in the name of sport and they'll drink so, as Martial recorded, wine was rationed to avoid trouble on the terraces. 'Twas ever thus.

(The arena sat over 40,000. Below the 'main stage' you can see where the animals or prisoners were kept before being brought out to face the braying crowd. Below, an artist's impression of how it might have looked.)