Italian Travels

We were in Italy for GH's 60th birthday for two weeks, from August 3-17. Venice was definitely the highlight of the trip: the magical canals and floating palazzi; the modern museum Punto Della Dogana restored from an old custom house by Tadao Ando; the moving works of Arte Povera artist Jannis Kounellis on show at the Prada Foundation; the dramatic works of Tintoretto decorating the Scuola Grande di San Rocco; the first-time visit to the Biennale. Unplanned were pleasant meetings with Filipino servers at one Italian restaurant and a Bangladeshi server at another,  beyond San Marco Square. Our hotel Pensione Accademia was perfect.

Florence was too crowded with tourists. Returning 29 years after my first undergrad visit, I explored the Basilica di Santa Croce (E. M. Forster!), with its tombs and memorials for Michelangelo, Dante, Galileo, Machiavelli, and Rossini, and its perfect chapter house designed by Brunelleschi. The Bargello Museum was less impressive than I had thought. The famous Donatello sculptures of Hermes and David left me cold. Much more moving was the tomb dedicated to young Mario Nari who died in a duel, with a sculpture of the man made by Bartolomeo Ammannati (1511-1592), and a bust of Constanza Bonarelli, made by the sculptor Gian Lorenzo Bernini of his married lover. Best meal was at Trattoria 4 Leoni, near the Pitti Palace. We stayed in an Airbnb near the train station and the neighborhood along Via Faenza was now filled with Chinese and Japanese restaurants.

The second week was spent at a villa in the tiny, remote village of La Cetina, in Tuscany. The nearest city was Siena. GH's sister, brother-in-law, and niece joined us. On the way to the villa, we stopped in at Antinori Winery, with its magnificent architecture built into the side of a hill and an open-air restaurant that served delicious meals. GH also drove us to numerous small towns, many perched high up on hills. Most memorable were Montalcino and Montepuciano, both famous for their wines; Populonia overlooking the Ligurian Sea; Torri, a tiny walled town where we had GH's birthday dinner in a lovely local restaurant; and Volterra, which goes back to the Bronze Age. The landscape I found oppressive. The hot dryness of it. The unremitting hills. It did not help that I was suffering from car sickness throughout the drives around winding roads. The villa and its grounds were besieged by mosquitoes that loved my taste.

On days when we were not driving, we lounged about the house and the pool. Covered in bug spray, I finished reading Kenzaburō Ōe's novel A Personal Matter, liking it as much as I did A Quiet Life. From the villa library, I read the last (theological/ philosophical) chapters of The Phenomenon of Man, in which Pierre Teilhard de Chardin develops his vitalist idea of the Omega Point and Vladimir Vernadsky's concept of noosphere, and Kathleen Raine's book on William Blake, which is a very useful introduction to Blake's art and thought. The Imagination, Jesus. The energy of the line in drawing. One law for the ox and the lion is oppression. I finally understood Vijay Seshadri's love for Blake.

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