Thursday, January 22, 2015

JMW Turner and change

One of our favorite blogs, Rome the Second Time, reported last December that a painting by JMW Turner had sold at auction in London. Rome, from Mount Aventine brought some 30 million pounds at Sotheby's. The Daily Mail declared it one of the most important pictures in British art (!). Well, that's long on hyperbole, but here's a shot of it, and you can see it's quite charming:


Turner may have painted this live, standing on Aventine Hill. He was in Rome in 1830, the presumed date of this painting, his second visit there. Travel in his day was constrained by fighting between Britain and France. His first visit was delayed until 1818 (after Napoleon was defeated), and then he stayed in Italy for a couple years, traveling from north to south and back, and spending months in Rome. He drew and drew, filling notebooks which survive at the Tate Britain. Here's one drawing from a hill, made on that first trip:


Compare this drawing with the center section of the painting, under the tree. See the tower, the round temple, the hill between them covered with buildings. Turner stood further to the right to make this drawing, than he stood twelve years later to make the painting. He might even have been on a different hill, for instance Palatine Hill? Anyway, it's very interesting, and gives us a glimpse of his methods.

Our curiosity prevailed. This picture was painted around 1830. Could we stand where Turner stood, and see how the scene has changed? Turner was well known for altering elements in his pictures to suit the design. Did he change what he saw to suit his idea of the scene?

Julianne and I poked about on Aventine Hill. We asked - What did the scene actually look like in Turner's day? What has changed in the nearly 200 years since he painted it?

It's not clear we actually found his viewpoint, but we found a viewpoint, the Giardino degli Aranci, a beautiful park next to Santa Sabina church, filled with orange trees, fountains, and tall pines. It has about the same angle on the river as Turner had.


What did Turner see? Well, he saw the little river port, which is mentioned in old sources. A hint of rapids in the water.

St. Peter's basilica, on the left in the distance. Right of the river, left of the tree, the little round temple of Hercules Victor, and above that on the horizon a tower that I can't quite put a name to, which is still there.

Behind and to the right of the tree, the ruins of the Forum. Over all, the glow of a golden morning. The beautiful haze on the river turns it silver; it seems to rise out of its bed to greet the sun.

Did he see the boulders and peasants in the foreground, or the houses and such on the near riverbank? Looks like Turner might have dramatized some elements. His hill looms higher than now. The lower-level cliffy waterfront with houses and whatnot appears more extensive than would have been possible given the actual space for them.

The long white building on the other side of the river in the painting, the Ospizio di San Michele, still exists (it's become the Ministry of Culture). But it's brick not marble, red-brown not white. There are dark old engravings of it.

About the bridge in the center distance, the Ponte Rotto. Here's a lesser artist's painting, from 1690. This artist is striving for architectural accuracy. If it's there, he puts it in, even the slummy waterfront, even the laundry. Since he's looking down-river from above the bridge, he sees Aventine Hill in the distance. Turner was looking up-river, standing on the hill.

"Tiber River with the Ponte Rotto and the Aventine Hill"
artist not cited in Wiki Commons

Turner's bridge spans the river -- but actually the Ponte Rotto was broken, with the east arches missing - they had been carried away by floods  in 1575 and 1598. Later, in 1853, an iron extension was added to complete the bridge, but it weakened the stonework. Now it's just a stub, concealed by the steel bridge that replaced it in 1887. Demolition reduced the Ponte Rotto to a single arch, isolated like an island in the river.

And I must say, the rapids today are upriver from Turner's view, out of sight, touching the Isola Tiberina -- but we don't know whether the river was dredged and the rapids shifted, for instance when the new bridge was built, so let's give Turner the rapids.

Not to mention the sun, which seems to be rising in the north - never mind, cloud forms with sun are spectacular in Rome!

Clouds with setting sun, looking east from our apartment

We can observe in the view of 1690 that Aventine Hill is very domesticated, with buildings everywhere. No broken boulders, no ruins. Of course, between 1690 and 1830, some ruins might have appeared. But I think Turner mainly made up the foreground of his painting.

Ah, Turner! This comparison is wonderfully permissive! Turner is a fabulous artist. He did what he liked with the elements of his design, to make the picture he wanted to see.

What Turner saw was something like what he painted, but he was far too Romantic in his vision to be hampered by mere accuracy!

If we turn to the present, it's hardly the same view, so much has changed since Turner's day!

The little port on the left of the painting is gone. Both banks of the river have been built up to hold back floods. There's a concrete walkway along the water now, with cars and buses moving above on the built-up streets. Trees line the streets and mainly conceal the view of the river from Aventine Hill. Any housing along the near bank has been cleared away in favor of a 4-lane asphalt thoroughfare. The temple to Hercules Victor is there in a very nice park, but buried in trees from our sight.

My watercolor of Turner's view
View of the Tiber from Aventine Hill

Consider the skyline. The main synagogue that now dominates the center of the scene above the bridge was built in 1901-04, after the nation of Italy had taken over from the papacy and the ghetto was opened. People could move around into Rome as citizens, and despite the terrible hiccup in the 1940s, the synagogue is a major landmark today.

To the right is another landmark that wasn't there 185 years ago, the Monumento Nazionale a Vittorio Emanuele II, huge, white, towers at each end supporting giant sculptures of Winged Victory driving 4 horses. Totally grand, makes your heart sing to see it, built by Mussolini. I wish we could erase that last bit, but there it is, Mussolini did a lot of building in Rome. In Turner's day, the autocrat doing the building was the Pope.

And, Aventine Hill itself looks more like the 1690 view in fact. Turner shows piles of boulders - we see major terracing and retaining walls supporting churches, monasteries, and houses.

One cannot be sure of Turner's report - he liked rocky scenes, was fascinated by mountains and crags - but who knows? There might have been a rock or two up there. Now we have a dramatic brick and stone overlook with terraces below. The view below is mid-winter.



Think of all the things we take for granted that Turner never saw - asphalt roads, chain-link fencing, electric lights, motor vehicles, heavy equipment, photography. 

Turner squinted and waved his hands, drew and drew, and saw Romance. He made hundreds of drawings and watercolors that were then engraved to illustrate books and magazines - a major source of income for him. He cribbed from his notebooks for years. 

Today our notes are photographic. We can't get away from the clarity of an exact line. Precision and efficiency, the hallmarks of manufacturing, obliterate the Romantic impulse. 

But, is that true? Turner's main subject, as he developed over the years, was light. Or perhaps more accurate to his perception, Light. Light is the subject of photographs. Light the topic of watercolor. Light the milieu for art glass. Light the essence of emotion in art. Never mind all that stuff about subject, the subject (if any) is vision itself. Everything else follows.

by Nancy

Wednesday, January 21, 2015

Rome in watercolor

Where I am with watercolor is -- where I am. Picking up watercolor again after a gap of 6 years, it turns out, is not like riding a bicycle. My eye outruns my hand, my critical faculty sits hard on both. I keep at it. Most of these are small, about 7x10". The View from Aventine Hill is bigger, about 12x24". I like working on-site, and then finishing at home. Another blog post soon with more work.

Il Colosseo, first Sunday of January. Nice day.

Teatro Marcello on the left, on the right the remains
it seems of the Temple of Apollo Sosiano.
Synagogue behind.

Foro Boario. Temple of Hercules Victor, but
could also be a temple to Vesta, because of round shape
On the right, Temple of Portunus.
This info is from Let's Go Rome

Church of San Bernado, ink and watercolor.
The church faces Via XX Settembre, a street of
Baroque wonders. Finished 1598.

House between Tiber River and Piazza Sonnino in Trastevere
A mish-mash reuse of ancient remnants, and charming for that.


View from Aventine Hill. 
Left, St. Peter's. Right, Monument of Vittorio Emmanuele II. Center left, Synagogue.
The face of Aventine Hill has been stabilized with brick retaining walls.
Separate blog posting on this overlook compared with JMW Turner's image of it.

by Nancy

Saturday, January 17, 2015

Lunch: Learning to eat as the Romans do


Several times per week we wander out of our lair to explore the city.  Sometimes locally, sometimes to do chores like shopping, sometimes to see important sights.  Almost always we incorporate lunch into the mix.  Almost always we are delighted with whatever food we discover.

Today is a home chore day.  We are making beds, doing laundry, cleaning the bathroom.  So our wander took us about 1 block. First stop to pick up a few vegetables and bread from a market which has several stalls representing regional artisanal food producers.  Yum--for dinner. 

Then a few steps further to try a small restaurant which we have observed across the street from our most used bus stop:  Sapori di Gaeta.  There are so many food places within a few blocks of our apartment that we are being more deliberate in trying them out.  Today was this one.

Sapori means flavors. Gaeta is a town between Naples and Rome along the coast which is famous for seafood, fish and these particular pie-type things called tiella. The cafe specializes in these things but will also serve you a fresh cooked plate of pasta or a few other things.

Tiella look like pies because they have dough on top and bottom and are crimped on the edges. But it is bread dough so they are more like calzones that we get in the US but pie-looking.  Inside are many things:  we had spinach for Nancy and onion for me.  Chatting with the guy later we learned that octopus and a mixed vegetable one with escarole are the most traditional.  Next time.

Then back home to hang out the laundry and unload the dishwasher.  Maybe a nap.  We are retired, after all.


Other lunches

Since lunch is one of the discoveries and delights of our stay in Rome, I have been intending to write about it for several weeks.  I intend to take pictures of our food.  I intend to discuss the Roman speciality pasta dishes we try.

The photos I actually take are of our empty plates after lunch or our wine glasses while we wait for our food to appear.  How do people do this--remember to take orderly pictures of meals before they have eaten?  At some point I may acquire such a skill.

What I can say about lunch is that it is uniformly delicious.  We have eaten in very local eateries where the other diners are all from within about 50 feet of the cafe to high-end destination restaurants. The pork sandwich place near the bus/metro/train terminal Ostiense is about as "street food" as you can get and is excellent.  So far it is all good.  

Roman food has its own pattern.  When in some of the areas of major attractions there is an inmixture of food from other parts of the country. (Lasagna comes to mind.) But even in the areas catering to visitors, we find good food most of the time.  One bad experience, one mediocre, so far during several weeks of eating wherever we find ourselves.

Full Italian meals are beyond us: antipasti, primi, secondi with contorni, dolce and cafe.  How do they do it?  We watch people eat the full series and they look like ordinary people. They are able to stand up and walk out. We tend to have an anti-pasti, primi (which usually means pasta) and cafe.  BUT we also have come to enjoy a mezzolitro of house white wine with most meals.  Sometimes we vary that by having a class of prosecco which is intended to introduce the meal by clearing the palate, relaxing one from the hustle and bustle of the world outside the cocoon of the restaurant and meal.

Honestly--this seems like the right way to live a life.  Definitely the right way to eat and drink.  It appears we are learning to do as the Romans do.  We may have to continue a Roman approach to life even after leaving.

So here are a few photos of meals not yet on the table or already finished. It seems to be the best I can do right now.







Thursday, January 15, 2015

Luca di Maio--musician, linguist

Luca di Maio is a cousin of our landlord, and a university graduate in linguistics. He makes part of his living teaching Italian to foreigners, and he agreed to teach Italian to us.

Yet another of the many delights of being in Rome! We soon learned that he is not only an accomplished linguist and language teacher but also a musician and composer.

A piece of his music has been used in a film, L'Arte della Felicita' (The Art of Happiness), which just last month won the European Film Award for Best Animated Feature Film. You can watch this film - the preview is in the link just above.

Image result for l'arte della felicità
Grab shot from Wikipedia article on L'Arte della Felicita'

Now here is Luca's music! This piece is named Precipitare con Gioia (To Precipitate Joy is a literal rendering). This is a recording of it on YouTube.

Julianne says: I just love this little piece.  I wish I were more musically literate to be able to describe the piece and my reaction to it.  It has a compelling but not overwhelming rhythm.  The melody seems upbeat to me but there is an underlying note of longing or sadness.  Musical composition seems almost magical to me--how do they do this?

Nancy says: I could listen to a lot more of Luca's music. It's rather addicting.
Luca is an interesting guy to talk to and a very good teacher as well. I learned enough Italian to know something about the way sentences work, and with my dictionary I can often figure out what a text is about. I was sorry to stop.

Julianne says: Nancy persisted with lessons until the Christmas holiday, but the future of our many coming visitors made it no longer feasible.  She is actually pretty good and can translate signs here and there.  Sadly, I dropped out after a couple of lessons but feel pleased with my progress anyway.  I just decided I could not make myself work hard enough to actually learn anything very systematically.  Something about being retired, maybe.

But despite laziness and lack of effort on language, I am so pleased to know Luca.  Both of us hope to watch his career as he rockets to well-deserved stardom.

Wednesday, January 14, 2015

Between Rome and the Pacific Northwest

Julianne has joined Friends of the American Academy in Rome. This membership lets us go to events at the Academy. Up to now we've been to a presentation on archaeology, connected to the Line C subway here in Rome, and a colloquium on the achievements of America's first ambassador to Italy, George Perkins Marsh. 

American Academy in Rome facade and 
entry piazza fountain, boat temporary
Building by Mead, McKim, and White

We have cheery thoughts about the AAR, even though the archaeology event was fully in Italian. There were plenty of slides, so we got a lot out of it.

On January 12 we decided to go to a "shoptalk" by one of the current Fellows, about his work. Fellows are American artists, writers, and scholars awarded grants to pursue projects in Rome. 


Adam Kuby was described as a sculptor and landscape architect, so we didn't quite know what he would be talking about. "Time and Materials" it was called. He had won the Garden Club of America fellowship. We figured it would be in English. Perhaps we didn't have high expectations. 

We arrived on Gianicolo Hill at about 4 pm, only to realize that the talk wasn't at 5 but at 6:30 (I got the time wrong, let's not go into it). So we had time for dinner and a coffee in the neighborhood. That was good.

Turns out Kuby lives in Portland, Oregon. He does public art projects on a fairly big scale. To our delight, he did one in Seattle in an area very familiar to us. Listening to him was like a breath from the old country... that would be the Pacific Northwest. 

He is interested in the difference between what humans want and what nature does. Humans build, and expect their work to persist unchanged. But natural forces are always at work to displace, change, and shift what people do. Trees, especially, will shift even boulders. Frost and water chip away at edges. Parts get buried under leaves and grass. Time is always at work on the products of human endeavor.

His park installations try to live within this process. For instance, a long straight line of stone, carved with a poem, set in the ground. Douglas firs are planted next to it. As they grow their increasing girth will push at the stone poem, creating a wandering line. That's a project in Portland.

Our Seattle friends may be familiar with his Seattle project. On the west side of Lake Union, between Dexter and Aurora Avenues, there was, until recently, an abandoned quarry grown to scrub trees, bushes, and weeds. We had no idea, despite driving by for years. A most invisible quarry, unseen by us.

The old quarry was named Dexter Pit Park, which was descriptive but you couldn't call it romantic. Then from 2006 to 2011, the city created a park. The land was renamed. Collective and community-based planning (the "Seattle Way") went slowly. The first landscape architect left the project by mutual consent. Kuby came in as replacement in 2008. Here is the city's summary of the project:

http://www.seattle.gov/parks/proparks/projects/wales.htm.

Here's a photo of the project underway, with some of Kuby's "rings" visible.


This picture-collage is from 2010 I believe; the park was inaugurated in 2011, and now it's 2015. It will look more grown-in now, I expect. I'm looking forward to seeing it, when I get to Seattle late next summer.

All of this, delightful as it was, just formed an introduction to his current project here in Rome.

Adam Kuby likes paving stones. We like them too, notes Julianne. They are called "sampietrini" because they were first used at St. Peter's basilica. In the early 1500's, the story goes, Pope Sixtus V was thrown from his carriage, which overturned on an uneven dirt road. Terrible for dignity; he demanded paving.

Now asphalt has intruded, but still much of central Rome is paved with basalt wedges. Here are a few shots:




Paving stones displaced by a tree or maybe
footsteps. Undisturbed at bottom edge.
Tree, top right. Note wedge shape.

For his presentation, Kuby had drawn gigantic wedges delicately balanced on other wedges. Wedges spouting water in fountains like baroque fishes. Wedges as sculptures in contraposto. Wedges in Piazza Navona, wedges near the gasometer in Ostiense, wedges at Testaccio Market.  

Not to say that anything from this project will be realized in Rome. Things go forward here, but slowly, and he might not be in town long enough to manifest an homage to the paving stone. Never say it isn't possible, though. Rome is full of re-visioning of old things, and creative re-use.

By Nancy, with a comment from Julianne
Photos by Nancy, except for Seattle's Wales Park in process
That photo from the website for Seattle Parks Department

Tuesday, January 13, 2015

Electronics on the Road

We've got a small array of 21st century miracles with us on this trip. Life with miracles is uncertain, it turns out, though naturally we love them anyway.

In England we started out with two lap-top computers, two up-to-date smart phones, two Nooks, and a camera. We had access to the dining room table, and there we set ourselves up with converters, chargers, computers, etc, etc. 



Computers. One morning we came down, and Julianne's little computer (in the foreground of this photo) was gone. Both smart phones were gone, too. The charging cords were gone, and one of the converters. The police were kind but not encouraging. We were unlikely ever to see these things again. The only consolation was that the thief probably got nothing out of it, especially the American phones. 

Lucky for us, there is insurance. Even luckier, Julianne had virtually all her crucial information in the Cloud, not on the computer. Unlucky for us, however, no satisfactory replacement computer was available to Julianne there in London on one day's notice. 

This was in our last week in London. We were flying to Dusseldorf, going from English plugs to European plugs, to various languages - into the unknown, in computer terms. What to do?   

Slightly panicked, Julianne ended up with a replacement computer carrying Windows 8, a wild and crazy operating system. She began to go rather nuts trying to tame it and make it functional for her. Never has worked out. She's having her son bring her a new lap-top from the US. He'll take this one back and deep-six it, or something.

Phones. We had Nexus 5, a Google phone with T-Mobile service. That's what was stolen. Nexus 5 is not sold in Europe. We bought new copies of the old phones from T-Mobile in California, and had them shipped overnight to Julianne's sister, who re-shipped them overnight to our hotel in Dusseldorf. "Overnight" was an exaggeration, but they did arrive at the last minute, and we hugged them to our bosom. Not that they were working yet.

Getting them to work involved parking our van in Belgian and French rest areas with internet connections and calling, re-calling, talking for hours, for days, with various T-Mobile people in Texas, in Arizona, in Arkansas, in Missouri, in California. We flummoxed those people a lot, but they got us more or less up and running.

In the long run, the problems we've had all over Europe have not had to do mainly with T-Mobile, but with their European partners. T-Mobile has arrangements with local intermediate companies that provide cell towers. These companies, sadly, even in Rome not to mention western rural France, are just not up to standard. So it goes.

We also have direct satellite connection for times when cell phone networks are down. Oh yes? 

Well, not always. Sometimes it seems the satellites themselves are somewhere else, over Australia perhaps, and we just have to wait for them to come back over the horizon. Satellites rise and set on some schedule that leaves the occasional hole. Particularly over France. We've been fussing and fussing with these phones and finally we are more or less used to how we can or can't get along.

There seems to be a meme going around that Europe is better off in internet terms than the US. Really? Have the people pushing that idea ever tried getting a connection in Bayeux? The Po River valley? At bus-stops in Rome even? I thought not.

Camera. There we were in Dusseldorf about to embark on 2 weeks of van camping, and my camera decided it was tired. It didn't want to extend its lens any more, and therefore nothing would work on that camera. 

Old camera on left, recent on right, and brand new in center
Note pink cast - that's from the phone's camera

Is it the rule of threes? I went right out to a big shopping center (read: huge) and found a camera, the little Nikon on the right of the picture. Cheaper than I wanted. Does funny things with color. Sometimes I was amused, but sometimes it just made me annoyed. 

So here in Rome I took the old camera out of its wrapping, thinking to take it to a camera store for fixing if possible. Lo, it began to work again. What is that? 

That was the same day my watch started working again. I had got it in August at the Royal Observatory Greenwich, but it quit about 3 weeks ago. I thought, battery. Put it aside while we had visitors. Pulled it out last Friday, took it to a jewelry store, gave it to the jeweler, he said, nothing wrong here. I told him he had magic hands (a good laugh), but actually it's another electronic puzzle, isn't it? Watch is still working.



Julianne points out that her watch is working, too. Mine is on the left, hers on the right. We had a new battery for hers, though, in London. She loves her watch.

So then I had my old camera and my newish camera. Ha! Both cameras stopped working on Monday. That's it. No fooling around this time, just get a new camera. Did. 

I'm just assuming it'll work fine - battery being charged
The latest wow in little cameras, even records in RAW format
which I now must learn to use.

Feeling very cheery. Now have working camera, working watch, working phone, working computer. Our Nooks both work, too, never a problem with them. How long can it last?

Two working Nooks, knock wood

by Nancy, with trepidation


Friday, January 9, 2015

Kakuma Refugee Camp, March 2014: My last deployment before retirement

Trees. Bushes. Rocks. Dust. Kakuma Refugee Camp. Kenya.

--from Julianne
In 14 years the trees and bushes have changed dramatically. The rocks and dust are the same.
Kakuma Refugee Camp has been home to about 120,000 refugees for the last 20 years. Although it is different refugees the population remains fairly constant. There is enough war in East Africa to keep the refugee camp freshly supplied when one or another group manages to leave for home or for resettlement. It was also home to me for a year—the year 2000. It was home to me again for 3 weeks in 2014.
I was posted here during the year 2000 when I had the privilege of organizing Sudanese refugee children and young men and women –commonly known as the Lost Boys--for possible resettlement to the United States. I worked for UNHCR for a year until I returned home to assist with their resettlement in the United States.
Fourteen years later, I returned with a circuit ride of officers of the Refugee Affairs Division of USCIS, interviewing some refugee families being considered for resettlement to the United States. It is my last circuit ride and a grand exit from the work world as I enter retirement in a few weeks.
Trees. Bushes. Greenery.
This is what strikes me first compared to my earlier time in the area. This is a desert. Virtually no rainfall. Riverbeds in which I have never seen water. When I lived here, I could count the 10 or so trees in the general refugee camp environs. There were no trees to count outside of the camp that I noticed.
Now, trees abound and shrubs fill gullies and surround refugee houses. There was an NGO working actively at creating protected areas for trees and planting hundreds in the camp and in the whole area. 14 years later, the trees have grown and prospered. Dignitaries plant trees when visiting. I suppose that the vegetation has helped retain ground water and generally diminished dust storms in this sparse desert. Fire wood is supplied to refugees now too so every little stick in the area is not burned. Efficient stoves are supplied too so less fuel is needed. The incremental beneficial effects of hundreds of donations and hours of volunteer labor have actually been effective.
Rocks. Dust.
These remain constant. The whole N region west of Lake Turkana is a vast plain of volcanic remains. Cones, craters and oozes of lava everywhere. Between ridges of basalt, fine dust creates the desert floor. The vast winds of the Sahara swirl south to this area; with little to stop them, winds create dust storms so thick you can’t see or breathe. Maybe this is a better year or the vegetation has had the intended beneficial effect—the dust these 3 weeks is not as bad as the dust in 2000. But the wind remains fierce.
Heat.
Another constant. But now, my great good fortune is that our living and working quarters have air conditioning. How did I stand it before? More than 100,000 people live in the heat, dust and harsh conditions. Local Kenyans are mainly Turkana and some Somali. Refugees are from all of East Africa from Congo to Burundi to Eritrea to Somalia. Compelling tales of persecution when interviewed for resettlement. This harsh refugee camp is their safe haven. Local Kenyans cluster in Kakuma because there is water from wells drilled by the UN and jobs because of the refugee economy. Others continue their nomadic life raising camels and goats in the desert, exploiting a harsh environment.
Birds.
Harsh environment for wildlife too. Sparse resources. Birds here are unusual species and sub-species who have adjusted to this bio-zone. First light and sunrise is a cooler time of day and my morning walk reveals the species beginning to nest as winter ends. A few migrants beginning to move north; more to the east at L. Turkana where they follow the rift valley going north.
Fortunate.
Me having an opportunity to spend the year 2000 here and getting to know the amazing people who worked here and refugees who sought safe haven here. Me, having the good fortune to have worked in several parts of the system where dedicated people are doing what they can to help. Me again, seeing refugees take steps toward a future life in the United States. And me again, leaving the harsh conditions for an easier life and a retirement in which I can reflect on lives I would otherwise never have known.
Thanks all.

Istanbul November 2014: Our pre-retirement try-out

Istanbul in fall of 2014 was the first place I was really travelling with my eye on retirement.  Nancy was there too, a little try-out for this big trip we are having now.  These are some of my reflections from that time which I want to share and save for myself in this blog.

November 25, 2014
Happy Thanksgiving from Istanbul
We had a lovely holiday in the country that gave its name to our traditional food. I always thought it was just a mistake—the name. But no! It seems that the Turks, always entrepreneurs, were selling a delicious turkey-like bird to Europeans and it became known as the Turkey. The pilgrims thought it was the same bird they found in New England. So, it is a mistake after all.
But you can see that we enjoyed the holiday in the time honored-way by sitting around for hours reading the paper and being mellow. Since we had a mid-week holiday in a country that did not have the day off, it was a great treat to be invited to the home of Peter and Shannon Vollemuller who live here and work at ICMC on the refugee processing. They and their children had a day off and managed such treats as pumpkin pie and mac-and-cheese.
For several years, I have been deployed on Thanksgiving so it is always a curiosity how to celebrate. But it is a holiday which seems to shed its peace wherever I find myself. Working closely with refugees in odd corners of the world gives a twist to thoughts of the abundance of kindness and love I have in my world and for which I am indeed thankful.
Among many adventures in public transportation we have had in Istanbul, we have managed to get on the wrong boat two times so we have NOT managed to cruise along the Bosporus. But trips up the Golden Horn and across the Marmara to the Princes’ Islands were better than the original plans as it turned out. We have also used every form of public transit except the share bikes. There are many from busses to trams to subways—we feel so urban. And great coffee everywhere in case we feel lost—often.
A trip to Konya a few weeks ago was a trip to the earliest urban aggregation of humans in the world. Catalhuyck is an active archaeological dig in south central turkey. War and insecurity prevented us from getting to the sites further south that we had targeted but this area was unexpectedly rich in archaeology as well as other delights. Catalhuyck was such a highlight. I just think of those folks living in their mud-brick houses 9,000 years ago, growing their wheat and watching over their animals. No need for defensive walls. I was sure that the animals I saw in the distance from the top of the tell were aurochs since auroch horns were part of some of the shrines in the site. Some might say I have a good archaeological imagination.
It turns out that Konya is the center of the Sufi form of Islam with a university and cultural center. We went to a whirling dervish ceremony with 35 dervishes doing their ceremonial whirl. Stunning.
Konya is a smallish town with a walkable old town and surrounding villages with restored Greek churches. Many wonders after all besides being the oldest human urban settlement.
Today, we will try for the Istanbul city walls on the northwest of the old city. Constantinople defended itself successfully for centuries with these walls. Later, during their rule, the Ottomans took their vast armies out the gate to march to Vienna for attempts to conquer Europe. As usual, adventures in public transportation may find us somewhere else entirely. However, once so far, we headed for something and actually got there so I live in hope that I will see the city gate. I have given up on the Bosporus cruise—shore viewing is good enough.
Happy Thanksgiving to all wherever you are.

December 1, 2014
After all, we did end up on the Bosporous ferry today while aiming for something else. The continued adventures in public transportation. Another glorious day in Istanbul.

December 7, 2014
Turkish Coffee Placed on UNESCO List 
Coffee. It might be the true story of Turkey.
And as it turns out, Turkish Coffee is being nominated to the UNESCO list of intangible cultural items representing Turkish culture. Big spread in the English version of the Daily Hurriyet. A banner above the name of the paper even.
I have an opinion about this.
UNESCO should vote yes on this intangible cultural heritage item.
Good coffee is everywhere. Turkish coffee is delicious and ubiquitous. There are also many places serving espresso and cappuccino. Kahve Dunyasi is my favorite chain—the Turkish equivalent of Starbucks but with excellent chocolate as the appropriate partner to their great coffee. Starbucks is all around too. This is the crossroads of 3 continents after all.
Mehmet Efendi is the coffee roaster near the spice market, downstairs from Rustem Pasha Mosque. I might be influenced in my opinion that Rustem Pasha is the most beautiful mosque by the aroma of Mehmet Efendi coffee floating on the air. Rustem Pasha paid for the mosque but it was designed by the marvelous architect Sinan. Glorious natural light and myriad blue and white tiles—just bits of red and green. But I diverge.
Coffee and beautiful architecture. Heaven.
When I go to buy coffee, I have to go on the weekend. There are long lines outside the sales window but they are so efficient. First you see the roaster as you wind along. Then the workers packaging small packs of coffee and finally you reach the open window where you can buy 500g packages -or smaller ones if you are not me.
They do not sell anything else. Fabulous coffee is what they do. It is enough.
On the way home in the tram, we pass a Kahve Dunyasi. We have to hop off to get some coffee to drink. It always comes with some chocolate. Never too much chocolate; and as we have learned to say in our household, “We like too much.”
I am not sure if we need to start a lobbying effort on behalf of this intangible cultural item.

Thursday, January 8, 2015

Befana: Searching for the good Epiphany witch

A witch who flies around on a broomstick and puts candy and gifts in children's stockings--what could be better? This is Befana.

Children get gifts from Father Christmas on Christmas eve but get extra treats at the end of the season, on the Epiphany.


I have managed to live my scores of years without ever knowing of Befana.  But Italian children were expecting their candies on the morning of January 6.  I wanted to tug on this string and see what I could find out about the good witch and the Italian celebration and holiday.

It was not that easy.  There are a few references in tourist-oriented brochures and books saying there is a big Christmas market in Piazza Navona which specializes in Epiphany gifts -- but this year the merchants went on strike so there was no market and not much along the line of Befana.  Befana was mentioned in the poster for the Passeggiata Zampognara which I wrote about a few days ago--we did not see any sign of her, though we loved the Passeggiata.

I am used to things of this nature being in-your-face.  I am not that much of a tv watcher but even I could not miss the presence of Santa Claus and reindeer and other seasonal icons in the U.S.  NASA tracks Santa as he flies from the North Pole, for heaven's sake.  Is the Italian air force looking for Befana?  The U.S. has a military presence here, are we on the job? How could you have a whole country of children expecting their gifts without all of us aware?  Marketing opportunities -- squandered?  

Diligent searching resulted in a few Befana images in candy stores and one (yes, really, only one) advertising poster.  A serious wander around Piazza Navona, the epicenter of Befanadom, found 2 Befanas there for children to visit.  Befana wears a pointed hat, a ragged coat and carries a broom.
Befana stockings in candy store
Befana Bus Stop Poster


Befana Face Painting

I resorted to asking people if their families followed this custom because I found so little other evidence.  Yes--it was a radical step and again, not so easy as I speak so little Italian.Turns out people really do follow the custom.  One man who has no children gives Befana gifts to his nephews.  Other people confirmed that all the children in their extended families get Befana gifts after hanging their stockings at the fireplace or near the door.

I began to think of the Befana celebration as a really Italian holiday--it does not require hoopla and no one has thought of marketing it in any kind of a big way.  Just folks being nice to children.  I love that.

Befana and the Epiphany

Befana comes to homes on the night of January 5-6.  January 6 is the Epiphany and both an important religious holiday and a national holiday.  It is the last day of the Christmas season in Italy and we in the English-speaking world know of it as Twelfth Night in some places.

Christmas, the whole season, in Italy turned out to be a pleasantly low-key experience.  Santa Claus is around a bit and I heard Jingle Bells here and there.  Surely people were shopping and there were specialty items in the grocery store.  But the overall feeling was more like Thanksgiving in the U.S. It is a holiday for staying home and cooking and eating with family. Testaccio Market was buzzing on the weekends and was open on Sunday for the few weeks preceding Christmas. It appeared to me that folks from afar were shopping and buying massive amounts of great foods.   

Many people who live in Rome go home to Milan or Naples or wherever for 2-3 weeks. Traffic is light. Many businesses are closed entirely during the period and even restaurants and food stores are closed Christmas eve, Christmas, New Year and Epiphany. (Plan ahead!) On the various holidays, the big activity in our street and nearby square was people hurrying along with boxes and plates of food, stopping at the big flower stall for the seller's special centerpieces.  A few apartments have lights strung along their balconies, but only a few.  Our apartment building has a little Christmas tree in the lobby.  

The American trappings of Santa Claus and merchandising have some presence here.  Big Christmas trees have been erected in key central squares in the Historical Center--not originally an Italian custom.  The Italian custom has revolved around Nativity scenes and there is now a contest for the best one--children's groups compete.  One can buy little figures singly or whole sets.  The big ones set up here and there do not have their Baby Jesus until Christmas and do not have their Magi until Epiphany.

The deal with Befana is that the Magi asked directions from her and invited her to travel with them.  She refused because she was busy sweeping her house.  Later she fell sorry about her refusal and thought about a little baby--she wanted to take gifts to him.  She put her best food and gifts in a bag and flew out on her broom to catch up with the Magi.  Sadly she could not find either the Magi or the Baby Jesus so she kept on flying around the world looking.  While searching, she found other children and began giving her gifts to them.

black sugar candy
Tradition has it that bad children get lumps of coal or sticks so now Italian children may get black sugar candy as a Befana specialty--on one is good for a whole year, after all.

For us now, Epiphany has come and gone. We have had a sweet time with close friends, Lyn and Charles, who have now flown back home.  We had our tasty little black candy and much better chocolate covered nougat.  We celebrated with the neighborhood by walking around with bagpipers. Romans are back to work, traffic has picked up, businesses are open.  Back to normal retirement life for a little while longer in a country with low key holidays and witches who deliver candy to children with no fuss.  We like this place.
Befana in Piazza Navona for photo ops

Text--Julianne.  Photos too, this time but with significant photo editing from Nancy, thank heaven.




Update on January 11, 2015



1827.  B. Pinelli.  Engraving of Befana at the Pantheon, giving gifts to children at the Epiphany.



Bartolomeo Rossetti.  La Roma di Bartolomeo Pinelli.  Norton Compton, 1895, 2006.

Among hundreds of engravings of Roman life in the early 1800's are 2 of Befana.  This one identifies the Pantheon as her location and the text, either by Pinelli or Rosetti, also indicates that the Pantheon area is the main place that Befana appears to give gifts.  The Pantheon and Piazza Navona, which is now associated with Befana are essentially the same neighborhood.

A search of the Norton Compton website for this book or anything else about Befana returned no results.  Unclear if the volume is out of print or for some other reason unavailable.  This print was retrieved from Google.