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Italy and Israel November/December 1995 Tuesday, November 14 Miserable
day in NY: a real nor’easter
pouring through. All I could
do was fidget all day. I went
out to JFK early and settled into the business lounge.
Amazingly the plane boarded on time and pulled away at 7pm. There was a wait for take-off, but we were
in the air by 8:15. I took a
nice six hour nap and was reasonably awake when we landed at Heathrow. Wednesday, November 15 Snack
bar breakfast, then onto the Underground at 9:15 just in time for the
tag end of rush hour. Walked
from Covent Garden down to the Strand Palace.
Nice day. Dumped my bags and headed off to get acclimated.
Wandered Covent Garden, etc. until lunch at a pleasant Italian
place. Then over to Leicester
Square for tickets to Dead Funny. Wandered through the National Gallery for a
while. Funny that I’ve never
been inside before. Surprised
to find all the “great painters” but not their finest.
Funny mix. Had fun, but
pooped out and headed to the hotel around 4pm.
Rested,
unpacked, made some tea. Had
a pleasant but mediocre meal at the hotel, then ran just across the
street to the theater (Savoy). Dead
Funny was more dead than funny, but I had a good time all the same. First row center. Kevin
McNally (remember Poldark?), Belinda Lang.
Fans of English comedians of the Benny Hill ilk. The play itself was straightforward -- some
nudity, some sex talk and situations, some good secondary roles and
acting. Slight enough to be
enjoyable when tired. Thursday, November 16 Predictably
I slept in ‘til about 9:30. Wandered
down to a late breakfast, then used the hotel service to book tickets
for Oliver for Friday night. I’m
look forward to it. Headed off
into a nice-enough morning with few plans in mind.
I though I’d go over the river and see the new Globe, but I got
diverted to St. Paul’s and had a great time doing the cathedral. It still doesn’t have presence to me, especially
spiritually, but it’s quite a marvel. I haven’t been there in ages so I wandered the whole place and climbed
to the Whispering Gallery and top-of-dome. I refuse to give into acrophobia, but ugh, I don’t like those open
stairs. Nice view from the top
of approaching rain. Oh well. It is however, the first time I’ve seen St.
Paul’s without scaffolding. Over,
well under, the river for a stop at Southwark Cathedral, a new spot
for me. Nice, more my period. Odd tidbit -- Shakespeare’s brother Edumund
(who knew he had a brother?) was buried here before being moved. Nice stroll in light rain from there along
the river to the Globe. Oh my,
they are really doing it. It’s
still under construction -- great logos of Will in a hard-hat -- and
it’ll be a thrill when it’s open. Intimate,
closed, wood, thatch, bare. It’ll
be a test of theater to have a hit there.
Back to the words. Walked
from there along to Waterloo, enjoying the promenade and the dearth
of tourists. What a nice time
to be here. The promenade is
dandy and kept beautifully. From
Waterloo on to Leicester Square for tickets to The Importance of
Being Earnest. Back to the hotel for an early roast beef dinner.
The play was simply delightful -- straightforward, light, fun.
Barbara Leigh-Hunt was the hit as Lady Bracknell.
Also Frances Gray, Hermione Gulliford, Robert Hands, Patrick
Godfrey, Rosalind Knight, Martin Wimbush, and David Yelland. Friday, November 17 Whatever
is great about being here at this time of year, there’s one tiny caution
-- today was lovely but the high temperature was 42°F. Up a bit earlier, breakfast at the hotel, then off to Westminster
Abbey. Maybe the world’s greatest
indoor cemetery. I do enjoy
it. Did a thorough tour then up to the British
Museum, another landmark I’ve left untouched for years. I’d seen posters for a Keats exhibit and I
thought I’d check it out for Mummy.
Not too extensive or impressive.
To me. Had a nice lunch
at the museum, checked out the manuscripts and first editions -- like
the Magna Carta. Mid
afternoon I felt out of steam so I basically just strolled around the
Inns of Court and Temple. Tea
near Covent Garden, then back to the hotel to relax.
Jim Dale in Oliver for the evening, then dinner with Jeff and
Susan Volk. What a jet-setting
life I lead! Oliver
was great fun. The show hasn’t
changed (from the movie). Jim
Dale was a pleasure. He moves
so beautifully, and shows off his hands in this.
Despite typically restrained response during the show, it was
clear that the audience loved it -- multiple calls and enthusiasm at
the end. I hung around a bit -- saw all the kiddies leave -- then went along
to Claridges. Got lost on the
way and was late, but Jeff and Susan were waiting and we had a fun dinner
at Caprice. Such good friends. Lots of laughing, then home late. Saturday, November 18 Warmer
today and still nice. Started
slow but headed first to the Tower.
Mobs of tourists waiting in line so I skipped the tour and walked
along the river and around St. Katharine’s Dock.
I always like that area even though there’s little that I do
there for shopping or eating. Felt
a bit at loose ends but went back to Westminster and walked along Whitehall
past the Horse Guards, through Picadilly and along to Leicester Square. Much to my surprise was able to get a matinee ticket to The Rat
in the Skull. The run ends
tonight so I hadn’t expected anything to be available. I saw the play years ago -- I think here with
Caroline Allen. Lunch at a mediocre
Italian place in Coven Garden, then on to the theater. Super. Rufus
Sewall and Tony Doyle. Tough,
sullen, breaking. Environmental
set was harsh and effective. Really liked it. Mass
at Corpus Christi near Covent Garden.
Homily about living through eras of apocalyptic horror. The Reformation was mentioned warmly as the
lead example. Oh to be in England. Dinner at the hotel then packing for a moderately
early take-off. Sunday/Monday, November 19-20 Caught
the 7:50 Airbus at the hotel door then straight to Heathrow. Onto the plane and an on-time take-off at 11am.
Had a pleasant lunch then slept for six or seven hours.
Landed at 7:50am and was through the airport and into the Hyatt
car in fifteen minutes. Civilization
is when things work. Nice room
at the hotel, 15th floor complete with a glass breakfast nook.
Napped briefly then lunched in the hotel. Strolled Orchard Road in the 92°F heat. What a switch from London! Dinner with David May at a place up on a hit
with a lovely view of the city. Alaheff
Mansions. Tuesday, November 21 Citibank
day. Chinese lunch followed
by all afternoon conference room meeting.
Wrapped up and back to the hotel by 6:30 or 7. Jeff organized a Raffles Grill dinner with a Citibanker based here
named Kyle Thomas and his wife Eliza.
Lots of laughs, lots of good food, lots of wine, lots of fun. Wednesday, November 22 Not
much worth mentioning about daylight hours.
Full conference sessions all day fueled by in-room sandwiches. Discouraging silo mentality, my country/region/business
right or wrong. Impossible to
trigger discussions of inter-region cooperation or real business issues.
Even Rana defending his box.
Evening
though was unexpected fun. Amy
Tan threw an IPB Singapore staff party at her home -- a house clearly
designed for public entertaining. Pool
with waterfall, putting green, built-in huge screen video and kareoke
set-up, room for 60. Mingling
was more fun than expected, dinner conversation with Mauricio, Jeff
and others downright fun. Rana
came and was almost human. (Drank too much and wouldn’t leave.) Only flaw:
not back to the hotel until 1:30am. Thursday, November 23 Jeff
did the business thing today, so I hung around the hotel relaxing. Onto Singapore Air First Class around 5pm and
on our way to Hong Kong. Glorious
comfort and service. Jeff played
helpless and let the flight attendant help with the tray, the reclining
seat, the video, etc. etc. etc. Hilarious.
We did however have the unwelcome excitement of an aborted landing
coming into Hong Kong. We couldn’t have been 100 feet off the ground
-- we were over the short runway -- when they pulled this groaning and
straining 747 back up for another go-round.
Apparently the wind was gusting oddly at 15+ knots and they “elected”
to abort. No fun. Second approach was similarly bumpy and wobbly,
but we came in safely. No one
applauded. Through
the airport in normal time then hotel Mercedes to the Mandarin. I may have the “city view” of a brick wall,
but hey, everything else is superb.
Most check-in formalities are done in your room, jasmine tea
is fetched in an insulated basket, china teapot cuddled within, and
on and on. (Cross culturally note: I got the male check-in manager; Jeff was sent
upstairs with the female. Wouldn’t
happen that way at home.) Called
Springfield with turkey greetings which was fun. Then off for not enough sleep. Friday, November 24 Mostly
bank day. Jeff hired a car so
we were chauffeured happily on our round of meetings -- three stops
at different offices, plus another hotel for lunch.
Just as well. Cabs were
no easily available. I caught
up on Citimail in the am, then we met Cecilia Ho (our own pioneer in
HK) for lunch at Gizini -- yes Italian -- in the Grand and grandiose
Hyatt. Thoroughly enjoyable; I really liked Cecilia.
Meetings with Peter Wong and Rita Hsu in the afternoon.
Took a quite ferry ride to Kowloon to wallow in the view before
heading back to the hotel for a nap. Met
Jeff for a drink, then 8pm dinner upstairs at Manwah. The room is gorgeous as is the view. The food and service OK. Prices
obscene. Cecilia had said that
the Mandarin has bee surpassed as the best service by the Shangri-La
and (maybe) the Grand Hyatt. I
can see why folks would say it, though I like the quieter decor and
atmosphere. Saturday, November 25 A
day for sightseeing. Jeff hung
around the hotel working out and being pampered so I wandered around
myself. Slept late then took the Peak Tram. For the first time in any of my visits had
some time to walk around. Once
past the tourist stands, there’s a lovely walking path shaded by tropical
trees. It winds around then joins up to Findlay Road
and something else. The private
homes up there are astounding. No
property to speak of, but four or five stories spilling down the mountain. Entrance might be over a driveway bridge, through
a security gate, then park in a modest courtyard. Door opens.
Humans vanish. Patios,
pools, VIEWS are all down the back, out of sight of the road. Spectacular. Walking
back I had to spend more time just gazing at that view. Is there a city or harbor view anywhere else
that has the same breathtaking excitement and beauty? It is endlessly fascinating. When
I could finally tear myself away, I headed back to the hotel to refuel
with lunch. The folks at the
table next to me were a Malaysian women and a British male business
colleague. Interesting comments: She: “Hong
Kong is the worst face of Asia, the aggressive, mercantile side. I like other parts where there’s a culture.”
He: “Journalists have a license to behave like irresponsible kids.” Out
again exploring. Other trips
hadn’t left me with the memory of how crazily hilly Hong Kong city is. I can’t imagine how I missed it. I walked through Central and the packed traffic,
then took the escalator system up to mid-levels. Wild. A roofed series of moving ramps and escalators
going smack up the middle of the street at least fifteen blocks long. And an impressive gain in altitude. I was tickled pink, but everyone else was blasé
and local. Going down is on
foot (except during the morning rush hour) but still within the walkways. What a hoot! Took
a nap then met Jeff about 6pm and led him over to the ferry and Kowloon. We strolled to the Regent and had a drink in
that glorious lobby bar with the never-ending harbor theater. The buildings and lights are as packed as ever,
but we had the extra treat of the Christmas lights: whole buildings coated with neon decorations
and greetings. (You COULD tire
of the noise, activity, pushing, shopping, news information, overload
of it all. There’s no soft spot here. Only Hong Kong would have notices on menus
saying “No cigar or pipe smoking. No
mobile phones.” Only Hong Kong
would have CNN and the Asia Business Channel playing continuously in
the ferry terminal.) Across
the street to the Peninsula for dinner at Spring Moon. I didn’t care for the decor -- it seemed a
bit like an interior dining room at an aquarium -- but the food was
much better than Manwah. The
Peninsula is grand in the old style:
huge high lobby, gracious stairs.
Not glitzy. Not half bad. Back on the ferry. Sunday, November 26 Jeff
left this morning early. I went
to church aiming for a 10am mass, but used outdated directions and ended
up at a different church catching most of the 9:30 mass. Dumb luck. Afterwards I
walked back through the zoo which is shoehorned into green terraces
surrounded by bustling concrete. Walking
back I cut through Battery Lane Road which was a Sunday morning discovery. Seems every Philippine maid in Hong Kong around
comes to town on Sunday to spend the day with friends. They hang out in groups, sitting in clusters
on the pavement with picnics. Some
offer outdoor hair cutting and dyeing, some manicures, most just gossip. The street behind the hotel was closed to traffic
and all you could hear was the roar of chattering female voices. With
this ringing in my ears I took the immaculate subway out to Mong Kok
in Kowloon. I stepped out onto
the street and followed my ears -- really -- to the Bird Market. It’s a small alley, maybe two blocks long, full of men selling,
buying and admiring songbirds. Bamboo
cages hang above and around. Shops
are crammed with stacks of plastic cages.
Everything chirping away. I
plowed through feeling very conspicuously tall and female. Plenty of round-eye tourists were there, but
the overwhelming flavor is Chinese male.
Subway
back to the ferry where I did a slight bit of shop browsing. Ferry back to the hotel, lunch, pack, nap (bliss),
left business clothes to be mailed home, checked out by 6. I had a car at 8:45 for the airport, so what’s
to do but ferry back across the harbor and have dinner in the Regent
“coffee shop” again facing THE VIEW.
Very expensive -- as is everything in Hong Kong -- but well worth
it for the space rental. Ferry
back to the Mandarin, car to airport, on to Rome.
Monday, November 27 A
day for getting my bearings I guess.
Arrived at Rome around 7:15am after ten-plus hours of sleep. Sounds great, and is, but I’m muscle sore from
not being able to move around. Through
customs and immigration easily then found the train into the main Rome
Termini. (ATM at airport accepting
only deposits, automatic currency exchange machine worked moderately
well but was fussy about crisp, clear, centered bills, train ticket
booth not open, automatic ticket machines want close to exact change
-- so I used Diners for a $10 ticket!.
It’s not Singapore.) Nice
half-hour train ride to the station, then an orderly taxi queue.
Gray and rainy. Probably
in the low 50s. Checked into
the Columbus and was able to get straight into the room which was heaven. I took a shower and changed and felt quite
human. The public areas are
grand (if unheated) palazzo with marble stairs, high ceilings, wood
beams, fireplaces. My room or suite is inside, but shabby. Stained blue wallpaper, chipped wooden wardrobe
and door frame. Bath is shiny
bright, but shower only. I’ve
got an entry hall, bath on one side, room on the other. Started
out around 11am and headed straight to St. Peter’s. Oh. The square and colonnades
are vast and perfect. But going inside -- I didn’t remember ANYTHING
from before, not even the immensity.
It’s like a hallucinogenic opera set.
Empty of pews or chairs, but every tiny bit marbled, statue-d,
or dressed up. The size blew
me away, the style didn’t. I
guess I’m more a gothic girl than a baroque buddy.
First chapel on the right has the Pieta, now behind non-distorting,
but smudged, glass. It’s magnificent, but isolated.
Á bas the crazy who smashed it in ‘72. Such weight, so human. It is glorious. Took plenty
of time to meander around. Oddities:
the confessional with their posted language hours, the central
underground shrine around St. Peter’s tomb, the Bernini yahoo Chair
of St. Peter. (Now I find that
an original chair is embedded in this fireworks display.) Lunch
at a nearby place from Fodors. Heavenly
risotto with artichokes. I may
have been the only patron, but it was comfortable, sit-down, tasty food. Back to St. Peter’s. Toured the treasury treasures. After intermittent sun, the rain closed in
again, but I still headed up the dome.
Even after practicing at St. Paul’s, it’s a hike. I cheated with an elevator to the terrace,
clung to the railing inside the dome -- way too high and majestic AND
the floor of the gallery slopes down -- and climbed up the sideways
slanted stairs to the top. It’s
easier that London because it’s all enclosed, no open grates or stairs.
Dark rainy view from both the top and terrace, so I crawled back
to the hotel and collapsed in a nap.
Zip on TV except Italian downscale shopping networks or psychic
lines. Very different selection from Hong Kong business
hotels. Dinner
in the great hall at the hotel. Very
nice. Four or five tables filled
with clergy and me. One group
of jet-lagged Eastern Orthodox priests here for a conference. Unexpectedly Rome shares a vice with Asia -- portable phones and
people taking incoming calls. Tuesday, November 28 I
get the all-star tourist award today, hands (or feet) down. It was a beautiful sunny morning so I headed
off after breakfast and was pounding the pavement by 9 or so. First strolling along the Tiber in a lovely
hazy autumn light. Very Parisian. Then inland to the Piazza Navona through all
sorts of crooked little streets. The
square is very theatrical (it used to be flooded for entertainment)
and it was fun to be there early while it was very quiet and clear. Only a fashion shoot on the Four Rivers fountain. Next
on to San Luigi dei Francesi which was on the list for the three Caravaggios
in the chapel. Imagine these
paintings in an open church screened off only by railings!
From there to the Pantheon which is astounding. I love the huge, perfectly round dome and the
feeling of a round church. Like
EVERYTHING in Rome, partially screened off for restoration. (Also homeless sleeping on the porch.) Around
the corner to Santa Maria sopra Minerva which is actually super-ornamented
gothic. (Yes I like it, but
couldn’t we scrape off most of the paint?)
Here they’ve got two Michelangelo statues edited by later hands,
but somehow they still stand out. Through
a maze of streets a brief stop at Sant’Ignazio, then on to the Spanish
Steps -- closed for restoration. Gee
the plastic wrap really does wonders.
Took the side tour through the Keats and Shelley house.
Got quite intrigued by the whole tribe of Mummy’s “pals” even
if some of them weren’t quite nice. OK
amateurs, feeling tired? It’s
only noon and we have miles to go yet.
Shake a leg. In
the interests of speed I had a notably mediocre lunch at MacDonalds
right on the Piazza di Spagna. In
Rome they come with a pastry bar out front and marble steps up to Big
Mac-land. Food dreadful. Off again looking for Bernini’s St. Theresa in Ecstasy, but got
skunked. The church is open
am-1pm and 4:30-7:30. Rats. Long walk then down to the Forum and Coliseum.
A few, very few, faint feelings of recollection here.
The Coliseum is great because so much is relatively intact. Gives one pause even in our day of hyper-stadiums.
Then wandered thoroughly through the Forum.
Again a few flashes of memory.
What was brand new though was the immensity of the Basilica of
Constantine and Maxentius. Huge rounded vaults and all that’s left are
the side aisles. The nave is
long gone. I
was feeling a bit pooped (aren’t you gentle reader?) but was blessed
with one of those bolts of traveling serendipity.
I was meandering up the hill behind the Victor Emmanuel monument
thinking only to get a long shot of the Forum, when I stepped into an
exquisite square and thought, “I wonder if I’ve found something?” Well yes.
I’d stumbled into Piazza del Campidoglio designed by Michelangelo. My next thought was “this is the model for
Lincoln Center” (which I think is true).
Then I dug out the guidebook and got my bearings. Magical place. Walked all around and finally down the majestic ramp at the front
with great reluctance. Couldn’t
resist climbing back up again to see Santa Maria d’Aracoeli where my
slog was nicely rewarded with an organ rehearsal.
Tuckered
out, but too stubborn to take a cab.
I walked home to relax with a shower and feet-up time before
dinner at the early Roman hour of 7:45.
Wednesday, November 29 Only
slightly less hectic day. Started
off in the Vatican museum. Wow. I can’t say much. The Raphael rooms, the library, the paintings, Da Vinci and all.
I was awed by the vastness of it all.
Then I came to the Sistine Chapel and basically forgot everything
else. After the cleaning the
colors and figures are so clear even from ‘way below that they look
as if they’d been painted yesterday. II was most taken with the Last Judgment wall.
I guess I’ve overlooked it for the ceiling panels.
It’s quite upsetting -- all sorts of graphic detail and no sympathy. Even with people milling about, you can sit
as long as you like, so I studied carefully for quite some time (for
me). Early
lunch then grubby subway to St. John Lateran.
Huge church, but the highlight is the towering high altar with
relics of Saints Peter and Paul. That
and the glittering apse. Long
walk then to St. Peter in Vincoli only to find it closed for mid-day
break. Pushed on to Santa Maria Maggiore which was
disappointing, very dark and did nothing for me. Subway
to Piazza di Spagna and tried to get train tickets at AMEX. Sorry, computer down. Things really don’t work reliably here. Recognizing signs of exhaustion and crankiness,
I sopped for tea and scones at Babington’s Tea Rooms. The perfect break. Home via Trevi Fountain and back through Piazza Navona, much tattier
late in the day with hanging kids and hawkers. Back along the river in a hazy sunset light
to a welcome nap. Thursday, November 30 Observations
about traveling solo: it’s wonderful
to have a hotel restaurant that’s beautiful in setting, friendly and
gracious in service, and adequate in food.
At night when I’m unconscious with exhaustion, it’s divine to
go down the marble stairs and seat myself in the baronial dining hall.
Another odd tidbit: I
hate being cold, desperately, penetratingly cold at odd times. I know it’s jet lag, off-cycle body temperature and all that, but
it’s exhausting. The guidebook
is smack on target about how to cross a street in Rome: fix the driver with a determined glare and stride ahead steadily.
Dealing with the buzzing Vespas is the same theory, but more
problematic. They will chase you along the sidewalk and they do travel in swarms.
Took
a much easier day. First went
through the Castel Sant’Angelo. My
favorite yet again. First the
long curving ramp, then the straight arrow interior stair.
Then to come out into gracious palazzo courtyards, rooms, and
terraces with views to die for. It’s
special. On
to Santa Maria del Popolo via a lovely golden, leaf-kicking walk along
the river. With my luck, there
was a funeral going on, so I climbed up to admire the view from a terrace
in the Pincio park. Back down
to the church, now quiet, to admire the Caravaggio, “Martyrdom of St.
Peter”. Worth the coins to supply the light meter.
Worth the wait. On
to AMEX to book my Venice train tickets, easy today, the system was
up. Then subway back to the Vatican and lunch at
a place just outside the walls. Another
visit to St. Peter’s. They were
setting up chairs so at first the vastness was tamed a bit. Not so when I walked around. Had
a lovely browse, then called it an early day and went back to the hotel
around 3pm to be lazy. Friday, December 1 After
breakfast took a stroll up to St. Peter’s to mail postcards and visit
until train time. Nice to be
there early. I was alone with
the Pieta, disturbed only by a nice guy with a floor-polishing zamboni
machine. There’s some “do” coming up, whether a special
mass or preparations for Christmas.
They were still at work filling the nave with packed rows of
molded plastic chairs. I’m glad
I saw it empty earlier. Back
to the hotel by 10am, then cab to the train station.
Oh
I love trains, even when they’re an hour late.
The station is a real terminal with the trains lining up in the
shed at the end of the line. My
carriage has plush seats facing 2x1 across with lift-out tables between. Very civilized. Hunky Italian opposite me taking calls on his mobile and reading
movie magazines. Took lunch
in the dining car which was expensive (~$34) but cool. Real linen, real china, real waiters. Same seating set-up which I shared with a Japanese couple. (Actually, Japanese tourists are in the majority
at the moment. Americans --
and hordes in general -- are few and far between.) Asti spumante, spaghetti, chicken (or “swine”!), cheese, tea.
Just fine. Country going by is surprisingly not built-up.
A lot of Agriculture. Cows. Sheep(s).
It seems that overpopulation is not Italy’s problem.
I wonder if they’re all cramming into the cities? Rome doesn’t have that flavor, but a zillion
years ago, Naples did. Who knows. Funny. Long tunnel going out of Firenze. On one side clear sun and surprisingly green
fields fringed by bare brown trees.
On the other side, gray misty overcast.
Dreary and a bit dingy. Quite
a continental divide. Met two
(Latin) American women from Florida on the train, Nellie and Muriel. Said they worked for Chase, but Nellie’s bag
had a Citibank business card luggage tag.
Wouldn’t it be a hoot if she’s with IPB? ------------- Venice. Haven’t died. Have gone to heaven. Asked
directions at the train station then boarded vaparetto #1 to San Marco,
Stop 15. Oh yes. Clearly commuting time. Folks
bustling on and off in purely routine fashion. Dark, impressive palazzo entrances were eye-catching.
Landing at San Marco is clearly the center of the universe:
Harry’s on the corner, Gucci just up the block. Hotel easy to find, maybe 4 blocks along clean,
main passages -- and charming. I
ended up in a double room thanks to Maritz’s fumbling, but it’s a lovely
room and a real bed. Wallpaper,
matching fancy Venetian glass light fixtures, wardrobes and side furniture
a medium grainy finish circa before my time.
Bath tile and has a (short) tub.
Can’t wait for a soak. Dinner
at a hotel-recommended hostaria was great.
Friendly, mostly tourists, but seeming like a place locals would
come. (dream on!) Walk back via Piazza San Marco. I’m going to like this. Saturday, December 2 What
a wonderful city to roam in. That’s
all I did today, roam around. Breakfast
at the hotel, then I strolled out through San Marco. Fabulous with few people around.
I meant to tour the church and palace, but was side-tracked into
walking along the quay as far as the Arsenal.
Gondolas, men fishing, street hawkers, dog walkers, pigeons. Back again, I did the basilica which seemed
dark and dull after the high splendors of Rome. I wandered along and eventually found the vegetable and street market
around Rialto bridge. Bustling.
Real people doing real shopping.
Tourists doing the usual. From
there meandered along to Accademia and beyond to Santa Maria della Salute. Glorious view across the mouth of the Grand Canal to the sweep of
that waterfront, boats of all sorts crisscrossing, sunlight warming
the palazzos and sparkling on the water, San Marco and the Doge’s palace. Hypnotic.
As usual the water held me and I walked along a great Promenade
della Zattere as far as the real port where the big ferries and boats
dock. Back via Accademia to lunch and back to the
hotel for a breather. Later
vaporetto to Santa Maria Gloriosa dei Frari -- finally a plain Gothic-y
church. Notable for me for two
things: Titian’s grave (under
restoration) and his Assumption over the main altar, framed by the marble
altar screen. So full of swirling
life and excitement. Special
to see it live. Long
walk home and feeling drained. Hung
out watching CNN before going out for a pleasant, so-so dinner around
the corner. Now back watching
Dr. Zhivago in Italian and forcing myself to stay up until 10pm. Sunday, December 3 I’m
glad I planned a leisurely stay here; I’m just loving Venice. If there’s any flaw at all it’s that it could
be a few degrees warmer. I’d
guess the high has hovered in the low 40s and that gets chilly when
you’re spending the whole day outside touring.
After breakfast went to mass at San Moisé at the end of the street. (You come out of the cozy Flora lobby with
plush wallpaper and blue velvet chairs, along a long, bare, concrete
passageway, and into the wider, but enclosed tunnel of the main “street.” Paving blocks, shops at ground level, solid
4-story buildings on either side, windows and all, a few people dressed
for city-life, crisp air. Sunlight
up above, but not yet hitting the street. Mass
had its funny moments. I was
a few minutes early and sat on the wooden pew eyeing the polished wood
kneeler with some dismay. On
old man was bundled in the corner all in black, a fake fur plush hat,
black rumpled cardigan as the top of many dusky layers.
He turned out, of course, to be the priest.
He seemed forceful and colorful, but all in Italian, so how can
I know? Thanks to a missal I was able to translate
most of the mass into simultaneous English.
He seemed to cut the first two readings -- is that allowed? --
for which I was grateful. There
was no heat and admiring my breath steaming into the sanctuary did nothing
to help me think warm. The backdrop
to the altar was a curious painting with collage effects of Moses getting
the ten commandments at Mt. Sinai.
Figures painted, but the mountain rocks were in 3D relief and
dusted, I’m sure, with snow. (Probably mildew, but the illusion was powerful.) On,
teeth chattering, to tour the Doge’s Palace.
Surprisingly big and ornate gold decorated state rooms. In ignorance I’d been thinking much smaller
and darker. Very grand. Seriously chilly by now so I stopped into Cafe
Florian for tea. Plush banquettes
lining smallish rooms, solidly decorated with painted panels between
smoky mirrors. Little marble
tables. Everyone sitting side-by-side sipping coffee
and reading papers cozily. Very
fin-du-siecle. Six dollar pot
of tea and worth it. Took
the vaporetto over to San Giorgio Maggiore church and monastery on the
island in the harbor. Mass going
on so I only got a glimpse of a very attractive, light, simpler interior. Walked around admiring the boats in the marina
and admiring the amazing view of San Marco. It seems a perfect spot for a monastery, an isolated bit of calm,
counter balancing the global commerce just over the way. Even if the church is grand, it seems to float
when seen from across the lagoon. Back
to the commercial world with a ride through the Arsenale -- must have
been a staggering shipyard -- and on to Murano. I’m glad I went on a Sunday (Thanks for the suggestion Jeff!).
It’s all glass shops and “factories” and is probably ghastly
and overrun on a summer weekend. Instead it was quiet, half the shops and most
factories closed, and the island looking cheery and down to earth. Walked
down to SS Maria e Donato to admire and ran into a funeral. I’m doomed (sorry) to be frustrated by church
timetables. Stopped for a nice
lunch then browsed the shops to find one that wasn’t too awful -- bought
Christmas necklaces, etc. -- and another that specialized in the blown
glass pens. Took the long vaporetto
route back from mid-Murano, across the lagoon, under the Ponte Tre Archi,
past the ghetto, past the train station, then through an industrial
area (cars allowed), out into the Canale della Guidecca, past the maritime
terminals, and back to San Marco. It
was probably an hour dock-to-dock but I loved it as a grand tour.
The last leg is how ships would have approached the city in the
past, and an eye-popping entry it must have been.
My jaded and sophisticated jaw was hanging open. What would a sailor from the twigs have thought
of this immense wealth lining the canals? Dinner near La Fenice (the opera house) then home. Monday, December 4 Woke
up to another clear nice day. Seems
a bit warmer. I checked at midday
and got an official reading of 44°F. Wonder how cold the last days really have been. First took the vaporetto to the Accademia to
admire the stunning collection of paintings.
Mostly old, mostly religious subjects.
I found the scale manageable and enjoyed it more than many museums. From there walked randomly ending up in San
Marco where I took in the view from the top of the campanile. (Easy elevator ride up.) More strolling then a truly enjoyable lunch
near the Rialto Bridge at the cozy Trattoria Antica Carbona. Dark woods, enormous (seat ten) booths lining
the side, tables down the center. Cordial
service. Very homey.
Stopped
by the hotel to re-group, then boated back to the Rialto to the post
office for stamps. The central
PO courtyard is a unadorned, 3-story atrium lined with arcades and topped
with a clear skylight. A converted palazzo. All very dark and foreboding in the late afternoon.
Along the way I availed myself of the short cut offered by the
traghettos -- short haul, local gondolas shuttling across the Grand
Canal. A real hoot. You ride
them commuter style, standing up. While not perfectly steady, it’s easier than standing no hands on
the subway. Two gondoliers. They all use thin bladed oars and don’t seem
to work for a rhythmic stroke, it’s more steady skimming. I guess for everyday work over time pure speed
and brute force aren’t sustainable.
Tea at Florians again. Assorted
practicalities of Venice: * Some (maybe 3) bridges have wheelchair lifts
built into the railings. Wonder
if they work? Venice is not
remotely friendly to the “physically challenged.”
* Venice is super easy to get around -- almost
every corner has arrows to San Marco or the Rialto or the train station
-- but has the worst transit map ever.
Why on earth do they show the land areas as blue and the water
white? * Deliveries come often by handcarts with extra
wheeled prongs in the front that help lever the cart up stairs and bridges.
* The population is very homogeneous.
The only blacks I’ve see sell, very genteel, fake Vuitton bags
on the street at night. Very organized and neat. * Outdoor cafes by the Grand Canal serve outside
even now, with customers huddled around heaters. * The
vaporetto workers vary. A few
are noticeably graceful, handling the ropes at each landing with an
consistent, patterned, efficient routine; no wasted moves, very elegant. Dinner
tonight at Taverna La Fenice, nice as can be.
It’s apparently the notable hangout across the street from the
opera house. The high class
local. I could happily be back someday eating risotto
and going on to the opera. Tuesday, December 5 Breakfasted,
then went out for an hour or so before leaving. Went over to Santa Maria della Salute and this time got inside.
It’s a round plan, very light with chapels around the outside,
the main altar being larger. Priest was just starting mass to a congregation
of one woman. Leaving, I walked
around the point again with that exhilarating view. Gray overcast coming and going, the water an
opaque greenish blue. Back to
San Marco for a quick look around.
Must have been a high tide or something this morning.
Water was lapping over the steps of San Marco and the docked
gondolas were all riding very high.
Easy to imagine how bad floods could be.
Then to the hotel to check out.
The clerk -- not Italian, but a Commonwealth type -- said my
accent was British. Back on the vaporetto for the full trip along
the Grand Canal back to the train station. Many locals going about their business. No wonder everyone uses the wheeled carts. Many ladies going to the food market near the
Rialto. The routine is to get
off the vaporetto above Rialto bridge then traghetto across to the market. Miscellaneous
thought: I never saw a movie
theater in Venice. Fireboats
though go bombing along with sirens, firemen clustered around the driver,
belching diesel smoke, other boats pulling out of the way.
Made me notice how quiet Venice is.
Many motorboats, of course, but no sirens, no horns, no yelping. Nice how comfortable I’ve felt getting around
Venice. Whole areas however
that I didn’t get to explore. Next
time. Pleasant
train trip, on time this time. Back
in Rome to spitting raindrops. Everything
hectic and city-paced, but comfortably familiar. No question I’m more in gear now. Swarms of bats or birds -- I think bats -- doing whirlies above
the train station. At first
I though it was smoke, dark diesel smoke, but then the whole swarm turned
on edge and changed color, getting thin.
Thousands and thousands. Nice
show while waiting in the taxi queue.
Back at the Columbus I was recognized and got a better room,
a double with tub and much less worn.
It is on the front though so I’ll get to test whether the double
windows are enough to keep out Rome noise. (The windows worked.) Dinner at the hotel. I must describe the dining room here. Colder than ever; there’s no heat to be seen
or heard or found in the hotel. I
went down to dinner at 8pm -- in solitary splendor -- and had to ward
off the strong suspicion that there was an open window lurking behind
the velvet curtains. Did notice
Italians in the adjoining lounge sitting over drinks while wearing fur
coats. Wednesday, December 6 When
I called El Al to reconfirm my flight I found that the 12:30 flight
had turned into a 4:45 departure. Beats
me, but I ended up an extra morning in Rome.
Put it to use by walking to the Capitoline Museums. Weather warmer than I’ve come to expect. The museums were fine with the expected highlights:
Marcus Aurelius on horseback, Dying Gaul, Romulus and the she
wolf, and the Tintorettos. I had to fly through in just an hour or so,
but enjoyed thoroughly. Back
along the Tiber to the hotel to pack and check out. Into a cab at noon and through the Roman midday traffic to Stazione
Termini and onto the train. At
the airport around 2pm, then 1/2 hour or more of questioning by El Al
security. It is clear that a
single American female traveling alone in business class does NOT fit
their safety expectations. People
behind me were cleared through one after another.
Two security types kept me:
Who paid for the ticket? Why
go to Israel? Why not fly direct from Hong Kong? Where did I stay? Do I have the receipt? Why
did I keep the hotel receipt? why
that hotel? Who’ll pay for the
business ticket (combo)? How
do I know that? Do I have any
documentation of my business meetings?
On and on and on and on. Finally
cleared through with some apologies and sent to the business lounge
for a drink and Larry King on CNN.
Finally
on the narrow 757 which looks pretty grubby as equipment. Business class is a front cabin with coach
seating, but the middle seat empty.
Due for refurbishing. The
safety video though was unexpectedly brilliant.
It was a genuine Pink Panther cartoon with the PP going through
all of the standard safety drill -- seat belts, life vests, oxygen. Who on earth would have expected humor from
El Al? Dull flight but easy
arrival in Jerusalem. Bank and
information right by baggage claim so I had money and was directed to
the shared taxi vans outside. For
US$10 you get airport to door service.
Not half bad. One very nice couple, American newly transplanted
here from Cleveland, made conversation and gave me a bunch of touring
ideas. The hotel was pretty
much asleep when I can in around 11pm.
It’s an ex-Sheraton now run privately.
Big room, nice layout, CNN and a huge tub. Step one, hot bath. Step
two, sleep. Thursday, December 7 Mixed
day. Slept in then asking for
touring advice from the concierge.
Booked Masada trip for Saturday, and Old City/Bethlehem for tomorrow. No question that I feel a bit intimidated here.
Taxi to Israel Museum where the Shrine of the Book is superb.
It’s an architectural gem with a flying saucer shape inspired
by the lids of the jars in which the Dead Sea scrolls were found.
Inside there’s a “tunnel” leading to a central chamber with one
of the scrolls (actually a facsimile) in a round case raised in the
center. Scroll fragments are mounted in cases around
the perimeter. Down steep curving
stone steps is a “cave” underneath the central display where baskets,
sandals, dishes, pots from the same find are displayed.
These gave me that catch in the breath of recognizing real people
using these possessions. For
example, a leather pouch in which some documents were found. All of a sudden there was a real woman in my mind with a waist pack
not unlike my own. Above
ground again I spent too much time in the rest of the museum. The exhibits on 18th and 19th century Jewish
life around the world were fascinating.
From there I went next door to the Bibleland Museum recommended
highly by the folks in the taxi last night.
The interesting difference is that artifacts from different (biblical)
countries but the same era were displayed together so you could see
things across cultures. Otherwise
a straight museum. Took
a cab to the King David Hotel for a pleasant lunch looking out at the
empty swimming pool. The hotel
is quite grand, but the service didn’t do better than OK. Then screwed up my courage and headed for the Old City. No one seems to walk here so it felt rather
lonely hiking across the couple of blocks of empty space around the
walls. Entered through the Jaffa Gate and was immediately
immersed in a teeming bazaar. Old
streets, small shops, people at you from every side. (Madam. Madam.
Just look Madam. Free to look. This is the place. What
you looking for Madam. Smile
for me Madam.) I was surprised
to find much of the bazaar covered and many streets stepped up and down
hills. “Streets” is a misnomer. Most are alley-sized, may turn into staircases,
and shouldn’t be for vehicular traffic. Not too many tourists around and I felt somewhat isolated, more
than conspicuous. By the time
I’d marched eyes-front to the far end (beginning really) of the Via
Dolorosa, I realized that it’s all a non-threatening tourist scene full
of the usual hassle. It’s
murder to find one’s way around. Nothing
much is marked, major sites look like empty doorways, and shop signs
and overflow drown out any chance of getting your bearings. I slowed down a bit on the way back and had
better lunch. Walked the Via
Dolorosa and into the Jewish Quarter.
It’s like crossing an invisible border into a neater, more sophisticated
world. The shops don’t spill out into the street,
but stay behind their glass doors and no one is nagging at you. Well, potential tour guides are hustling, but
no one from the shops. As
proof of the muddle, it took me three tries with my finger on the right
spot of a detailed and accurate map to find the Church of the Holy Sepulcher
which is sort of a big deal site. Since
there’s no open area, it’s just down another alley of shops into a small
courtyard and through a church door.
There’s never any long view of a building or landmark.
Once inside I realized that it’s less a church than a jumbled
bazaar of chapels, all dark, and mostly in the Eastern style of mosaics
and hanging lamps. Nothing marked. Nothing lighted. No natural sites are visible. Everything
from the crucifixion site to the tomb is enclosed, covered, built up
and enshrined. There’s a constant
stream of people crowding through with cameras and flash bulbs, a few
are clearly moved, most are plowing through a tour. There doesn’t seem to be any room for a spot of quiet or prayer.
The tomb itself has an antechamber then you duck through a low
doorway into a cave space maybe 6’x4’ with candles and altar.
Only a handful of people can get in at once among the lamps and
candles. Outside again it’s all surrounded by an ornate
19th century altar. The
crucifixion site is two chapels, one Catholic, one Greek. They’re up a stair just inside the church entrance.
The Catholic chapel has a straightforward mosaic of Christ being
nailed to the cross, the Greek one is maybe 10’ away draped with lamps.
It’s startling that all of these sites -- thought to be reasonably
verified -- are within yards of each and all under one roof.
Back
out through the bazaar and across the buffer zone back to the hotel. Mediocre dinner. The “nice” hotel restaurant is being renovated. I’m struggling with surprise that all the religious
sites are so wrapped in shrine-making, sectarian rifts, and bazaar commercialism.
(I know that the bazaar flavor is millennia old and authentic,
but somehow Kodak signs, Ninja turtles, and blaring music take it all
to a new level.) Also everyone
is on the make: cab drivers,
waiters, would-be guides, shop touts. Everyone has a come on and a hustle. It’s simply endemic. Friday, December 8 A
switch in tone today. Joined
an Egged Tour group to do Bethlehem and the Old City.
It was a good idea; I’d never have covered the same ground solo. The group was largish, 25 or so, but quiet
and well behaved. Pick up at
the hotel then the usual fumbling around at the office to get people
counted off and onto the right busses.
First headed to Bethlehem with a brief detour to a promenade
overlooking Jerusalem. Cloudy weather and some haze dimmed the view
a bit, but the panorama was stunning.
Walled city, golden dome, new city built around, Mount of Olives,
etc. The big view also reminded
my that we’re in the middle of very hilly terrain. Bethlehem
is due to be turned over to Palestinian control next week, but aside
from a road checkpoint and concrete and machine gun security around
Rachel’s tomb, it seemed an ordinary place.
Clearly though the tour guides didn’t want us walking around
much. The Church of the Nativity is on Manger Square,
though a better name might be Market and Bus Square. All in the golden limestone that seems to be
used universally. Greek run
church and grotto. Catholic
church of St. Catherine attached. Coming
back, some of the new towns -- settlements -- were pointed out and very
pleasant they looked. In my
provincial ignorance, I’d overlooked the idea that the “West Bank” surrounds
Jerusalem and that the open space I’d crossed yesterday was the wall
that divided Jerusalem until ‘67. Seen from the tourist’s perspective, it can
all look very tame and quiet. On
to the Holocaust Museum at Yad Vashem.
Moving. The “museum”
is simple with photos and explanations making up the bulk of the displays. Too much to absorb in only an hour or so.
There’s a lovely walk lined with trees planted in memory of the
“righteous” non-Jews who helped. Oskar Schindler is now the famous name singled
out along this allée. The most
moving though was the memorial to the 1.5 million children killed. There’s a separate low building that you enter
through a hallway tunnel. You’re
then walked along ramps into darkness to be confronted by a montage
of twenty or so photographs of children.
Then, in absolute darkness, you feel you’re way along walkways
that lead around a room lined with mirrors reflecting infinite thousands
of candles above, around, beside and below you.
Staggering. Lunch
as a group, then on to the Old City entering this time through the Zion
Gate into the Jewish Quarter. It’s
clearer now that much of this section at least is newly rebuilt in the
last 25 years. The entire area in front of the Western Wall
used to be houses right up to the wall.
Now it’s an enormous square with security gates, airport style,
at each entry point. Access
to the wall is segregated, men on the left, women on the right. (I did notice one small, unhappy boy being handed over the divider
to mom.) On
through the Old City which was infinitely quieter and tamer on Friday
with Moslem shops closed and the Jewish Sabbath beginning. (One fellow tourist who’d been here twenty years ago described the
bazaar today as “gentrified.”) We
followed the Via Dolorosa along to the Church of the Holy Sepulcher
where we caught up with the Franciscans Friday procession. The various
guardians were a bit impatient with us although in general neither the
church nor the city was crowded. I
felt less lost the second time, but most of my first impressions stand.
Back to the hotel for an elaborate mediocre dinner with Sabbath
menu and arrangements This may
be a secular country, in many ways aggressively so, but it’s pure Jewish
in the Sabbath shutdown. No buses, cabs, restaurants. Everything shuts and goes on special rules.
Saturday, December 9 Fun
day outside the city. Another
group tour, this time to Masada. Fascinating
to drive five miles out of town and hit empty desert. The roads, old and new, follow valleys heading always downhill past
sea level and on down to the Dead Sea.
Again my ignorance was exposed by my surprise at finding the
Jericho and the Jordan River are so close.
Driving it’s a half hour or so.
Maybe. Quite imaginable on foot. Passed Qumran and the cliffs along the Dead
Sea then arrived at Masada. Hazy
view, but glorious day, maybe in the mid-70s.
We took the cable car up, then spend a good hour and more wandering
through the site. The ruins
are extensive enough and there’s enough restoration work to give a good
sense of the look and size of the community and fortress. Looking down you can clearly see the seven Roman camps surrounding
the mountain and maintaining the siege. Then
on to the “spa” at Ein Gedi. Much
more like a public beach facility.
First hot baths with high sulfur, then a full sliming with smooth
black mud. Those who indulged turned magically into comic
aboriginal figures. (Tour guide
Joseph was on the make: offering
a massage in the hot tub, help with the mud, show me the Dead Sea, help
me swim, etc. etc. etc. Give
it a rest!) Then a long walk to the beach which lets the
mud dry, and finally a proper swim in the sea itself. Floating is truly extreme, but the promise of being able to lie
back reading is a tad exaggerated.
Finally showered off everything and drove quiet and drowsy back
to Jerusalem. Sunday, December 10 Nice
last day. I simply can’t believe
that I’ve been on the road for a month.
I’m still ready to go. Chatted
over breakfast with some nice folks from California. Then headed out and first walked along the wall of the Old City
from Jaffa Gate around to Dung Gate.
I was early enough to be able to be all alone along the walls. No Romans, no crusaders, Turks, Brits, or Arabs
sighted on my watch. Entered
the city through the Western Wall square then went up from there (not
always allowed) to the Dome of the Rock.
Very different from the rest of the Old City.
Open space, quiet. Usual
hassle of leaving shoes and bags outside, but the inside of the Dome
is mesmerizing. The center really is the rock, the inside of
the dome is decorated hypnotically, and the light comes in through the
pierced windows that are invisible from the outside. Out
through Lion Gate to the Mount of Olives.
First in the bottom of the valley is the Tomb of the Virgin. Maybe the most striking church. Greek. You
enter from a sunken courtyard and immediately go down forty wide marble
steps in lamp-hung dimness. The
actual tomb and chapel are at the bottom to the side. Next door is the cave of Gethsemane where the disciples slept.
It’s really a cave, now a simple chapel run by the Franciscans.
I was alone and its was almost the first chance for peace and
quiet. On to the new church and garden of Gethsemane,
then a climb up the Mount, a very steep climb, but stupendous views
back to the Old City. Back
through the city for a reviving lunch at the King David. Later I went back to the Church of the Holy
Sepulcher where I’d been told there’d be Mass at 4pm. (Actually, the folks at the hotel hadn’t a clue about masses; they
referred me to the “This Week in Jerusalem newspaper for schedules.) It turned out instead to be the Stations of
the Cross followed by Benediction.
All in Latin. It was
very moving to be part of the candle-lit procession around this church,
over the true locations. One extraneous observation though: The processions are scheduled with precision.
As we were halfway through, bells rang in the distance and a
Greek procession began working around the church behind us.
Everything booked and coordinated.
All the monks promptly checked their watches.
Back
to the hotel to eat, pack then get up at 4:14am for a cab to the airport
and an uneventful trip home. One
funny note, someone opened the outside pocket on my suitcase and stole
the contents: a copy of Brothers Karamozov and a paperback
bible. Serves them right!! Hotel
Flora Dining Room Hard
floor, dark marble chips Dark,
curvy furniture, open chair backs Rose
linen White
and flowered English bone china Red
velvet upholstery Dark
wood walls to waist-high Red
on cream flocked wallpaper Double
glass doors with diamond/square panes Red
velvet curtains with white ruffled liner Dark
wood serving sideboard with mirror Venetian
glass wall scones and chandelier, pink and green flowers Cream
ceiling with pink and white wavy moldings at edge Venetian
gondolier and masque prints, red mats, dull gold thin frame 7
tables 4
or 5 additional tables in side room Hotel
Columbus Dining Room Near
square, boxy room Two
and 1/2 stories high Walls
golden yellow Ceiling
dark wood beams, some carving Floor
brick red tile Furniture
walnut Serving
table at far side, center of room empty, tables at ends ~20
tables Fireplace
at far end always with small fire behind screen Table
linens gold with white under-layer Thick
18” walls Windows
double height with white sheers, red velvet curtains hung simply from
rod Tables
round, mostly set for four Four
or five monumental, dark paintings Chairs
upright wood with red velvet seat cushion Wooden
high seat behind serving table at far side China
and furniture marked with Crusader cross |
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