Tuesday, December 13, 2005

Rome: DAYS 91-93 SAINT PETERS AT LAST

SAINT PETERS AT LAST
December 13-14-15

Houston, we have a problem.  Not our first by any means but not a disaster either.  I spent the last several days preparing the daily writing for the blog and when we got to the Internet point today, it was gone.  We have a little routine, I write, Kim edits, we go once a day to our Internet point.  If there is something to blog that is when we do it.  We are so low tech we cannot figure out what happened.  We both think we saved the file but where has it gone?  This will be my puny effort to recreate the above 3 days. 

On Monday my cold overtook me and I was basically stranded in the chair by the front window of our apartment.  It is a cozy chair and very comfortable.  I have been reading a book by Alan Epstein called “As Romans Do”.  It was written in the late 1990’s and has become somewhat of a classic of Roman Memoirs of which there must be thousands.  Kimberly picked it up at the bookstore and has been handing me sections to read that she thinks I will like.  She is right, the guy is speaking my language on Roman customs including the never having change at any store or stand, breaking the traffic rules indiscriminately including running red lights and trying to hit pedestrians if they don’t get out of your way quickly enough.  He also loves Roman and the contrasts are well done.  I was speaking to our real estate agent, Judy Allen and mentioned that we were reading the book and she suggested that I call him.  Maybe it was because I didn’t feel good or was bored or something, but I did call the Epsteins and asked if we could get together to talk about things Roman.  Later that day, I received a call back from Alan’s wife Diane, who seemed somewhat taken aback by my call.  I must not have totally lost my touch because we will join the Epsteins for coffee tomorrow at their favorite coffee place in the Aventine, which coincidentally is 10 feet from where I bought my motorino.  Kim cannot believe my unmitigated gall, but somehow it has worked.  I give myself an A for Roman Chutzpah.

On Tuesday at the appointed 9AM hour we introduce ourselves to the Epsteins at their apartment.  They have a wonderful view of the Palatine from their window.  But they are moving, why? Diane explains that it is ok because they have found the perfect apartment in the trendy Monti district.  It is a great neighborhood but a fourth move in 8 years is more than I could handle.  It happens all the time in Rome.  The family that owns the apartment that the Epsteins call home is giving it to another family member.  That is the Roman way.  They are very philosophical.

As we enjoy our coffee and the meeting, we find out that Alan has written 4 books and is a very special guide for high-class individual tours in Rome.  His client list is impressive and he has a PHD in European History.  They have two kids who have now grown up speaking several languages and are fluent in both Italian and English.  Alan would consider going back to the states, but Diane loves it here.  She is a professional photographer, a psychologist and a Mom, too.  They like the Roman life and it looks like they are staying.  They are nice people and we have enjoyed our visit; it would be fun to know them better.  Alan suggests that Romans differ from all the rest of Italy in their disregard of traffic rules and says that the people of the North follow rules better then Romans. For all the cops, soldiers, sirens, fast police cars and government security officials there does seem to be a lack of order to the Roman life. 

We get back on the motorino and speed along the Lungotevere in an attempt to get to our next appointment.  Our favorite guide Nancy D is leading a tour of the mosaic factory in the Vatican.  During the last three months I have been in the excavations under the Vatican, in the square watching the Pope on big screens, at the Vatican Post Office and gone by St Peters almost everyday.  But since they did not let me in because I had shorts on one blistering summer day several years ago, I have managed to stay out of the Basilica.  We do the tour of the factory and visit the place where the artisans are working with the glass tiles.  They have over 2500 different colors and 10 artisans making various mosaics.  The tour is too long for me; the pieces are made by placing the tiles on a grouted background that has a cartoon of the final image.  We do find out that in the church itself many of the original pieces of art have been moved and replaced with mosaics that have a better shelf life.  The paintings can then be protected in the more appropriate Vatican Museum.  Next we venture up to the Cathedral itself.  It is a huge space, over 5 acres under roof with 400 columns and 800 sculptures.  The Catholic Church is big and powerful and this the center of its universe.  I always wanted to believe in something the way many of these pilgrims must, but it has never happened.  Christ is enduring and from the Roman look of it, his future looks secure.  

For a guy who ain’t feeling too well, I am just getting started.  The performance artist, songwriter, playwright, and storyteller, Laurie Anderson, is in residence at the Academy for a few weeks and is speaking this evening in the lecture room of the Villa. She is very well known, attractive, petite and well spoken.  It is a standing room crowd.  She has just completed a year as the Artist in Residence at NASA.  She says she is the first and last artist in residence at NASA.  They didn’t exactly know what to do with her.  She is very edgy and reminds me of events at the California College of the Arts that sometimes have to be explained to me before I understand them.  Her various walks, which include Milan to Paris, are featured in her talk along with slides from her small camera.  She explains that she does not walk every step of the way but sort of does the walks.  She has also participated in the design of a huge park space in Japan but this too comes across as not too intelligible.  Anyway, I don’t get much from it.  She was not really prepared and rambles her way through the hour and a half allotted time.  She has done some great work around 9/11 but I do not know it myself.

It is cold out here and I am just not made for it anymore.  I think it is a question of age.  My ride down to the apartment from the Academy sends me right to bed.  It is more like a series of naps between coughing spells.  Being sick sucks, being sick away from home is more difficult. 

Christmas is rushing towards us and the crowds are bigger, the sidewalks packed and everybody is buying except me.  We are taking care of things at home with gift certificates, but here I must do some shopping soon.  I am just waiting for the right moment, probably in a few days panic will set in.  It is Wednesday the 14th and it is the day of the Christmas party at the American Academy.  We have been invited but this is for kids.  The fellows have 17 children with them in residence, the largest group of kids ever.  The staff also brings their kids.  Lots of screaming and a wonderful presentation by the fellows including my friend Don from Oakland who plays a fantastic Santa and the lovely Patrizia G who is Santa Lucia in virginal and diaphanous white.  We had a great stay there and I feel always welcome, but it feels like a kind of closure for me.  It is a fine party and I hang for a little while savoring my time in this magnificent and worthy place.  A real 5 star experience while we were there.  


Kim has elected to stay home and perform her dance in our small kitchen.  She has become the master of the lightest Teflon pan ever made.  It feels like it is no more then 4 oz if that, maybe it is paper.  Anyway our fresh Salmon don’t care, they are perfect.  “Christmas is here, bringing good cheer, to young and old, meek and bold--."  Will I shop tomorrow?

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