19: Last Supper

On our last evening, the Guidaras had us out to supper, gracious and generous til the last. It was a lovely dinner, including Oxtail. Ay caramba. Dario, Alba, and family were able to join us as well. We miss them all very, very much.

Christmas for Lorenzo. Explanation: when we were robbed in Caserta, one of the things stolen was Lorenzo's navigator "Chiara" (Kee-ahra), which we of course then needed to replace, which was, of course, not available in that model, but, of course, the more expensive, sleeker, shinier, and all around classier Chiara was, of course. So though he felt very sorry for us, he couldn't easily disguise his delight at the new addition.


Wendy flanked by two of her new best friends: Alba and Silvia.


Emanuele, Dario, and Lorenzo. Lorenzo looks like he'd rather be someplace else--preferably somewhere that required the use of his new navigator. We weren't wanting to be anywhere but there.


Emanuele insisted on another shot in front of the house. We soon discovered the reason.


And this sums it all up. The boys had built a tent with blankets, and spent part of the afternoon inside. We cleaned it all up, dropped some pots, slammed some doors, yelled and screamed, and he didn't budge.


We're still reeling. Still weeping. Still sleeping in the fetal position after having to leave the place we love. God willing, we'll be back there again.

Teaser 18: Verona by Day

Our good friend Sergio took us on a little giro (jih-roh) of Verona our last day there, and it was well worth it. Combining the charms of Verona with those of our hosts and including the great times we had (minus the injury to Wendy's toe) at Lago di Garda, Verona was a touristy highlight of our trip. Here are some pics.

At the Anfiteatro (amphitheatre) with Sergio:


This amphitheatre pre-dates the one in Rome (il Colosseo), and is in almost perfect condition after nearly 2000 years. It is still used for concerts and operas: "Rigoletto" was being staged while we were there, and we got several shots of the scenery and stagehands (including one in Wendy's continuing series of men without shirts). So it is still the heart of cultural life in Verona. I asked Sergio why he thought this one was so well maintained, and he said that, quite frankly, Romans are vandals and the Veronesi are civilized, orderly, Germanic folk. (Pre-Nazi Germanic, that is, and post-Teutonic. Actually, Verona was under Austrian control for almost 200 years.)

Anyway, here is a shot of the steps cut into the stone: the Greeks and Romans truly did do some wondrous things, and they thought of everything.


Name etched in stone:


Il balcone della casa capuletta: specificamente, il balcone di Giulietta. (The balcony of the Capulet house: specifically, Juliet's balcony.) No kidding. And yes, Wendy took this picture. And yes, we also went and found the Montague house (Montacco, I think). We are, after all, equal opportunity tourists.


Schiavo di . . . Verona. The chains were used for animals, purportedly. I have my doubts.


Christopher informing on some usurers (read: Jews--I told you they were a "Germanic" people--though in truth anti-semitism runs deep throughout Europe, so there's no corner on that market in Verona: Venice, anyone? pound of flesh?):


Some of the "scavi" or excavations below Verona. Sergio tells us that the whole city is rich with archaeological strata, so much so that a city ordinance limits archaeological activity, because quite literally anywhere you dig, you find something. This is an old Roman fountain, so the site of an ancient piazza. Just off to the side (out of view) is the noted "gate within a gate": a classical gate with a medieval one built in front and higher than the old one.


Here are the boys at the top of the staircase outside the "tribunale," or the place of judgment. It was said that men who climbed these steps were never seen from again: after judgment, they were taken via catwalks to the nearby prison.


A view of one of two bridges leading into old Verona. We were standing on the belvedere outside an old hillside fortress, Austrian, I think, which in turn was built next to the old quarry, complete with Roman cable and pulley system for transporting rock down to the city. You can see the contrast in the bridge: the Germans blew all bridges in Northern Italy as they withdrew after the Allies re-took Naples and Anzio, south of Rome. The white stones were recovered from the river and banks, and the bridges were rebuilt to the old specs, but with new stone where the old couldn't be found.


A view of half of the city, which is built into the horseshoe of the river. Two bridges, as mentioned, and then a fortification on the south side, were the principle entrances. Verona was built on the intersection of two highways: one stretched from Venice to southern France, and the other from Germany to Rome.


Magnify for full effect. It really is a charming city.

Teaser 17: Lago di Garda and Verona at Night

The castle at Malcesine, overlooking the narrow end of Lago di Garda, located at the heart of Veneto's tourism industry, and very near its grape orchards, etc.



At Malcesine we took a "funivia," a cable car, up the side of Monte Baldo, and did a bit of a walkabout on the old goat trails. Here are the two goats we found.



The boys communing with the their panflute/lyre playing ancestors.



Jonah lakeside at another resort town further up the coast. Lots of Germans, and windsurfing and parasailing and other fun and dangerous things. Dad C would love it here. Makes Flathead look, well, like a flat head.



On the old bridge in Verona, located at the heart leading to the battlements of the Lord's castle. Tomorrow, Romeo and Juliet's balcony! And other sweet stuff.

Teaser 16: Near Pescara with the Celestinis

Some images from Francavilla, a resort town near Pescara on the Adriatic. We spent a couple of half days with the Celestini gang on our way to Verona.





This one's for Greg: Euro Identity Crisis



Christopher, Paolo, and Ricardo on the "scagli" (skah'-yuh-lee), stone burms built out in the sea to create shallow pools on the beachside. We all went out later and dove off the rocks. No injuries.



Riley eating a fresh fig, with obvious great enthusiasm.

Teaser 15: Last coupla days

Window, Saint Peter's, which is actually far more striking than I remember from my jaded McConkieite missionary days, long past, than the heavens.



Michelangelo's Pieta', SP's.



Sfera con sfera, a work dated 1990 and donated to the Vatican where it resides in the "Cortile Pigna," named for the enormous bronze pine cone behind the photographer. Boh. Looks like the Borg mothership to me.



Went to a fireworks championship with the gang. Pretty impressive.



Wendy and her friends from the ward, minus Laura. We went to Anna Maria and Alessandra's house last night for some supper. Great food, great folks. I'm crying already at the thought of leaving this Saturday. Don't wanna.



It's been a while: some verses, in both languages, that come some little way in expressing what I feel for this place--and Wendy concurs. She's converted. We're home.

Prodigal Returned

For whom in deserts lives, in veils of sand,
The greens of these deep Sabine dells are sweet
As fruit after a long and weightsome fast,
Or water poured on tired, dust-sandaled feet.

That there’s a magic—sylvan, pastoral—
Deep in the soil of this deep, ancient place
Is something I can now accept withal:
Makes light the heart, and lighter still the pace.

But there’s a fact that all the more makes this
The place most loved to me upon this earth:
The faces, voices, hands, and welcome kiss
Of this land’s people are its greatest worth.

And even more, a few of its dear saints,
Whose faith and fates are ever tied to mine,
Are met with a long hoped-for joy, unfeigned;
Leaving Rome’s pines, for these I’ll pine.


Smarrito Ritrovato

Per chi viv’in deserti, velato di sabbia,
Son dolci delle colline Sabine i verdi
Come frutta dopo una fame pesant’e lunga,
O l’acqua su polver-calzati piedi.

Che magico, silvano e pastorale,
Si trova profondo in questo suol antico
Or’accetto, senza rinfacciare:
Rende lieto il cuore, e leggero il passo.

Ma c’e’ motivo ancor miglior per cui
L’Italia si’ da me cosi amata:
I visi, le voci, le mani, ed i baci
Son il miglior tesoro ch’essa abbia.

E piu, alcuni dei suoi cari santi,
Cui fede e fortuna tengo care,
Incontro con gioia e calor non finti;
Andando io, m’andranno quelli mancare.



Tomb, If I Must

Burn me when I’m gone
And strew me round
Wherever Chance dictates:
No need for ground.

But if you feel, when I am dead,
To choose a place to lay my head,
To give my bones an eternal home,
Let it be Rome!



Tomba, se debbo

Bruciatemi ben
Quand’io morro’
Spargete le cener
Tanto i’ non vorro’

Ne terra ne tomba: non l’esigero’.
Ma se vi quieta posar testa mia,
O dar a mie ossa una casa eterna
Che Roma sia!

Teaser 14: Post-Caserta Blues et al.

Various shots, double-loaded and therefore scrambled. So there's one of the boys back on the beach at Fregene building an impressive castle (we're going to the Adriatic tomorrow on our way to Verona), one of Michelangelo's Mose' (thanks, Jen!), one of the men before under the Perticaroli's pergola, one of the boys preparing to storm the castle (inside Castel Sant'Angelo), and one of a watermelon seed-spitting contest just off the Appian Way. Enjoy!