Yesterday our class visited the Casanatense Library in Rome, one of the very first libraries to be open to the general public. It was founded by a Catholic Cardinal in 1700, and its first collection was simply the books that the bibliophile Cardinal had in his possession - some 25,000 volumes, including some really amazing texts. By far the most exciting part of this library is their special collections of ancient manuscripts, some dating back to the 7th Century. Even more incredible are their Incunabulae, which is the name for books printed using a printing press in the second half of the 15th Century.
Printing came to Italy from Germany in about 1465, and it immediately took off. Italy (and especially Venice) became the center of European printing and it was the books that were produced during this amazing period that we were able to see yesterday. We compared a 12th century hand-copied manuscript written on vellum, or smoothed animal skin, to one of these early books, and the differences are surprisingly few. The people buying printed books would've wanted theirs to look as beautiful as hand-copied books had looked, with illuminated pages and ornate letters, so that's how the printers made them. Nevertheless, being in the presence of these first printed volumes was nothing short of amazing.
When it was time to look at the library's oldest printed volume (literally one of the very first books ever printed in Italy and thus one of the first ever using the printing press) the group was palpably excited. The power of these relatively small objects, viewed in the vast reading hall of this library, was enough to make us salivate. Our guide asked, in Italian, for the next book to be shown and his assistant, unsure, asked simply "Quale?" Which one? To our satisfaction he replied with the one word that was music to our ears: "Dante."
She then brought out an original print of the very first edition of the Divine Comedy to be printed on the printing press. The title page, richly illuminated and full of commentary, was breathtakingly beautiful, both in an aesthetic sense and because of the knowledge of what this object represented: the spread of wisdom and information and poetry and enlightenment from the few to the many. It's first line, written in archaic but still very readable Italian: In the name of God, this Divine Comedy of Dante Aligheri...
If you ask me, the story of human history and the development of technology can be mostly explained by saying that what people really want is access to information, and they want it quickly, efficiently, conveniently, immediately. This printed edition of Dante represents a giant leap in that process. These days, we've gotten pretty good at spreading information rapidly and efficiently, and the technological advancements of the modern world will only continue to speed up this transfer. Someday, I imagine Google will have implanted something in our brains that will allow us to search all of human knowledge with merely a thought and perhaps the blink of an eye. I wonder what would happen if you hit "I'm feeling lucky..."
11.22.2007
11.14.2007
The Etna
In Sicily, Mount Etna is typically referred to as "L'etna" (The Etna) or simply Mongibella (The Beautiful Mountain), so important and powerful is it in the cultural ethos of the local community. She's a mighty beast, this Etna, and I'm not kidding around here. She's the tallest and most active volcano in Europe, and one of the most active volcanoes in the world. The last major eruption was in 2003 and the last minor one was in September. That's September, 2007. As in, 2 months ago. Rising over 3,300 meters above the Sicilain plains to the west and the Mediterranean to the east, she is as formidable as a tiger, as unstoppable as a hurricane, as proud as a lion, and as majestic as... a mountain?
Etna is not part of a mountain range of any kind; her 10,000+ feet are straight up from the ocean and so she makes you feel every inch of them. We flew into the city of Catania - a relatively large city right on Sicily's eastern coast, and from there took a (mafia-run) bus an hour to the small village of Nicolosi, some 800 or 900 meters up the mountain from Catania. This bus system is not AT ALL designed for tourists, as we quickly learned. The posted schedules were merely suggestions, and none of the buses was labeled with a number or a destination. So, whenever we had to take one, we would have to ask all the drivers who were standing around, in Italian, if their bus went to Nicolosi. Once, the driver had to ask his passengers whether he went there or not. Unfortunately for us, they informed him that he did not. Eventually, we mastered this wonderfully Sicilian system and had no further troubles, though that first time was a bit harrowing.
From the windows of our amazing Bed & Breakfast we were able to look out and catch glimpses of the mountain, her tallest peak steaming and smoking away into the crisp Mediterranean sky. I should write a poem...
To get to the base camp at 2,000 meters, you have to take that same (mafia-run) bus up these narrow switchback mountain roads for about an hour. Don't ask me how these bus drivers do it, but they managed to not kill us. We eventually got above the tree line and were traveling over roads that had just been rebuilt after the eruptions of 2002-2003. From about 1,500 meters up, you are driving and walking almost exclusively on fresh lava flows. Check out this buried house!
Once at the base camp, you take a cable car / gondola thing up to 2,500 meters. At this point, the views were already so incredible that we were skeptical that they could get any better, but of course, we were wrong. In this shot you can just barely see base camp and some roads a few hundred meters below us.
The cable car ended at about 2,500 meters. To proceed, you could pay the ridiculous sum of 25 EUR for an all-wheel-drive jeep / bus to take you up to the top, but that way is for semi-affluent retirees (as we quickly found out). Instead we decided to hike the 500 meters to the top. It took us just under 2 hours to get there, but that's while taking pictures every two or three feet. The terrain was, as I've said, entirely recent volcanic lava. At this point, we were well above the tree line and so the world became wonderfully monochromatic. The only colors were the black of the volcanic rock and the white of the snow. Below us, we could see almost the entire island of Siclily, the towns clustered around the base of the volcano, the city of Catania, the sea, and the Italian mainland across the strait of Messina. (insert low whistle...)
As we climbed, we were constantly looking in two directions and it was a struggle to decide which view was more amazing. Behind us was the gorgeous panorama I just described, but in front of us was this:
Now we weren't able to climb all the way to the top of the main caldera (at 3,300+ meters) because we didn't have time, nor obviously to the top of the QUITE active peak in this photo, but we were able to get to the top of the crater from the eruptions of 2002-2003, which sits 3,000 meters above sea level. From this point, we were above most of the cumulus clouds and could see for miles and miles. We were all struck pretty speechless (or as speechless as we can be) by sights like this:
Most of my compatriots on this trip agreed that climbing Etna was one of the best, if not the very best, thing that we've done so far in Italy. It's clearly very difficult to top climbing one of the most active volcanoes in the world. In fact, it wouldn't be possible unless we were on a plane! PUN!
Well, I'm spent... I'll leave you, dear reader, with this shot of the crater from 2003 (still smoking) with the main peak behind it. The next time you may question it, take this as a reminder that I am much, much cooler than you.
Etna is not part of a mountain range of any kind; her 10,000+ feet are straight up from the ocean and so she makes you feel every inch of them. We flew into the city of Catania - a relatively large city right on Sicily's eastern coast, and from there took a (mafia-run) bus an hour to the small village of Nicolosi, some 800 or 900 meters up the mountain from Catania. This bus system is not AT ALL designed for tourists, as we quickly learned. The posted schedules were merely suggestions, and none of the buses was labeled with a number or a destination. So, whenever we had to take one, we would have to ask all the drivers who were standing around, in Italian, if their bus went to Nicolosi. Once, the driver had to ask his passengers whether he went there or not. Unfortunately for us, they informed him that he did not. Eventually, we mastered this wonderfully Sicilian system and had no further troubles, though that first time was a bit harrowing.
From the windows of our amazing Bed & Breakfast we were able to look out and catch glimpses of the mountain, her tallest peak steaming and smoking away into the crisp Mediterranean sky. I should write a poem...
To get to the base camp at 2,000 meters, you have to take that same (mafia-run) bus up these narrow switchback mountain roads for about an hour. Don't ask me how these bus drivers do it, but they managed to not kill us. We eventually got above the tree line and were traveling over roads that had just been rebuilt after the eruptions of 2002-2003. From about 1,500 meters up, you are driving and walking almost exclusively on fresh lava flows. Check out this buried house!
Once at the base camp, you take a cable car / gondola thing up to 2,500 meters. At this point, the views were already so incredible that we were skeptical that they could get any better, but of course, we were wrong. In this shot you can just barely see base camp and some roads a few hundred meters below us.
The cable car ended at about 2,500 meters. To proceed, you could pay the ridiculous sum of 25 EUR for an all-wheel-drive jeep / bus to take you up to the top, but that way is for semi-affluent retirees (as we quickly found out). Instead we decided to hike the 500 meters to the top. It took us just under 2 hours to get there, but that's while taking pictures every two or three feet. The terrain was, as I've said, entirely recent volcanic lava. At this point, we were well above the tree line and so the world became wonderfully monochromatic. The only colors were the black of the volcanic rock and the white of the snow. Below us, we could see almost the entire island of Siclily, the towns clustered around the base of the volcano, the city of Catania, the sea, and the Italian mainland across the strait of Messina. (insert low whistle...)
As we climbed, we were constantly looking in two directions and it was a struggle to decide which view was more amazing. Behind us was the gorgeous panorama I just described, but in front of us was this:
Now we weren't able to climb all the way to the top of the main caldera (at 3,300+ meters) because we didn't have time, nor obviously to the top of the QUITE active peak in this photo, but we were able to get to the top of the crater from the eruptions of 2002-2003, which sits 3,000 meters above sea level. From this point, we were above most of the cumulus clouds and could see for miles and miles. We were all struck pretty speechless (or as speechless as we can be) by sights like this:
Most of my compatriots on this trip agreed that climbing Etna was one of the best, if not the very best, thing that we've done so far in Italy. It's clearly very difficult to top climbing one of the most active volcanoes in the world. In fact, it wouldn't be possible unless we were on a plane! PUN!Well, I'm spent... I'll leave you, dear reader, with this shot of the crater from 2003 (still smoking) with the main peak behind it. The next time you may question it, take this as a reminder that I am much, much cooler than you.
11.08.2007
There will be one short intermission.
To my countless loyal readers: I'd like to offer my sincerest apologies for having been so delinquent about posting here. I know this space has been tragically devoid of joyous tales for at least a week, if not more.
Unfortunately, I'm leaving for Sicily in about 5 hours (which does indeed put my departure at approximately 4:00 AM). I therefore have no time to legitimately post something, but rest assured, when I return there are copious things about which I have been intending to blag.
They include, but are not limited to: train strikes, strikes in general, the (perfectly preserved) right forearm of St. Francis Xavier, Caravaggio, my recent visit to Minas Tirith, the Pope, and the unconscionably beautiful sky of a Roman dusk.
All these, and perhaps more, when our program continues...
Unfortunately, I'm leaving for Sicily in about 5 hours (which does indeed put my departure at approximately 4:00 AM). I therefore have no time to legitimately post something, but rest assured, when I return there are copious things about which I have been intending to blag.
They include, but are not limited to: train strikes, strikes in general, the (perfectly preserved) right forearm of St. Francis Xavier, Caravaggio, my recent visit to Minas Tirith, the Pope, and the unconscionably beautiful sky of a Roman dusk.
All these, and perhaps more, when our program continues...
10.30.2007
War, Famine, Pestilence, and... Birds?
The sight of a flock of birds turning and wheeling in perfect formation is not an uncommon one, but a sky completely blanketed with such flocks can strike fear into the stoutest of dwarves (man and beast too, of course). The sight of these flocks is a daily occurrence here in Rome; they can be seen around sunset every day going absolutely crazy, generally over the Tiber and the land on either bank. For a solid hour each day, these birds – no one is entirely sure the species or the precise reason for their emergent maneuvering – fly maddening circles around the sky.
Just today we were crossing the river on the Ponte Sisto returning from class, and overhead we were met with a blue and red sky partially blotted out by these birds. I couldn’t help thinking of the Hitchcock film (and thus ran from every tall blonde in the vicinity), and some of us were concerned that this sight may herald the end of the world as we know it. Since they’ve been doing this every day for a month or so, I think the threat of the apocalypse is pretty remote, but their appearance is nonetheless quite disconcerting. It seems unnatural for animals to cut and turn with such precision. Only imperial storm troopers are so precise, I thought.
This is a video from the Ponte Sisto, looking north. At one point you can see the dome of St. Peter’s in the distance. As strange as this sight looks on the video, trust me when I say that it is ten to the nth power more impressive and scarier in real life.
For your viewing enjoyment, scroll down a bit...
Also, what are birds? (+5 pts for a positive ID of this reference)
Just today we were crossing the river on the Ponte Sisto returning from class, and overhead we were met with a blue and red sky partially blotted out by these birds. I couldn’t help thinking of the Hitchcock film (and thus ran from every tall blonde in the vicinity), and some of us were concerned that this sight may herald the end of the world as we know it. Since they’ve been doing this every day for a month or so, I think the threat of the apocalypse is pretty remote, but their appearance is nonetheless quite disconcerting. It seems unnatural for animals to cut and turn with such precision. Only imperial storm troopers are so precise, I thought.
This is a video from the Ponte Sisto, looking north. At one point you can see the dome of St. Peter’s in the distance. As strange as this sight looks on the video, trust me when I say that it is ten to the nth power more impressive and scarier in real life.
For your viewing enjoyment, scroll down a bit...
Also, what are birds? (+5 pts for a positive ID of this reference)
Monkeys stand for honesty; Giraffes are insincere.
This past weekend, we wanted to do things that real Romans do. Forget all that tourist business. So on Saturday, off we went to the Bioparco di Roma, the Roman zoo. We were partially expecting to find rows of cages with pacing exotic beasts in the style of certain past Roman entertainments, but fortunately we were met with an awesome wonderland in the American style with enclosures and proper habitats for a wide variety of animals. We saw:
As adorable as these animals are, they were no match for the tiny Italian children running around everywhere. The zoo was pretty empty, save us and Italian parents and their kids. We were certainly the only Americans [slash] English speakers there, and since our Italian comprehension level is not exactly the best, we loved being around the kids because they spoke simply enough for us to understand. If there was ever any doubt, small children speaking a language other than English – especially if they’re speaking Italian – are the cutest sentient beings ever made. They would shout excitedly to their parents or cry out in sudden fear – absolutely amazing. One little boy just could not figure out how to say the word “ippopotomo,” which admittedly is difficult to say, in English or Italian. In response to the intense ticking of our collective biological clock, we resolved to simply steal a little kid and take it home with us. I knew that spare room would come in handy!
LEMURS ARE REALLY COOL. So are we.
Speaking of cool…
Sunday we ventured to Mussolini’s grand Stadio Olimpico to see some footballers. Unfortunately we couldn’t get tickets to see Roma play, so instead we saw this area’s other home team, S.S. Lazio. The region that Rome is in is called Lazio, literally the land of the Latins (taken from antiquity), and is very analogous to an American state. They were playing the rival city team of Udinese. Neither team is very good (though both are in Serie A) and this game was fairly unimportant and on a Sunday afternoon, so the stadium was pretty deserted. However, it was still really awesome to see what all the fuss is about. Even the few people who were there went crazy at the (legitimately) bad calls by the referee as Lazio ultimately lost 1-0. The curses we heard ran the gauntlet of Italian curse words, ranging from “bufone,” meaning clown or buffoon, to things much, much worse.
Seeing all the scarves waving and hearing Lazio’s fight song, one could imagine what this massive stadium would be like when it’s full. We’re going to try to get tickets to a cross-town shootout between Roma and Lazio, but it will probably be sold out. Check out my pics!
Who built this stadium again? Oh yeah…
Just in case we get a little out of hand, cops with riot gear.
10.24.2007
News on the March
From the United States Department of State, the U.S. Consulate in Rome, the Central Intelligence Agency, the American Embassy in Italy, and His Eminence the United States Ambassador to Italy:
"Run for your lives. They sky is not falling. There isn't even any sky to fall. We'd be lucky if the sky was falling. Seriously, if you're not terrified, you better GET THERE, for your safety and the safety of your children. And freedom. You should be terrified for the safety of your freedom. Or something. Abstract phrase without substantive meaning.
"If you're an American citizen and value your freedom (which is your birthright) and should, for whatever ungodly reason find yourself outside the borders of glorious America, return as quickly as possible. If you are unable to immediately re-enter our fields of amber grain, please please PLEASE try to stay alive. It won't be easy, especially if you're in a city full of evil Gypsies like Rome. Avoid crowded areas like Stazione Termini, the Campo dei Fiori, and the Piazza Navona. And the Coliseum, Forum, Pantheon, St. Peter's (the square and basilica), Largo Argentina, Piazza Venezia, the Campidoglio, the Palatine, the Aventine, Piazza di Spagna, Trevi Fountain, Piazza del Popolo, the Villa Borghese, the Via del Corso, the Corso del Vittorio Emanuele II, all Musei di Roma, the Capitoline Museums, the Galleria Borghese, the Piazza Trilussa, and the river roads. As well as all major and minor churches and monuments.
"If these guidelines are strictly adhered to in the (ideally short) amount of time that you choose to remain outside the boundaries of our purple mountains' majesty, then you might possibly escape mortal harm. But ONLY if they are strictly adhered to. If, for reasons passing understanding, you choose to ignore these carefully researched and crafted rules, you will inevitably be robbed, drugged, raped, and then thrown into the River Tiber. And it will only happen in that order if you're lucky.
Stay in your places of residence. Eat at your hotel's restaurant. If your hotel doesn't have a restaurant, you should fast. Leave only to go to the airport and return to the United States. And oh DEAR GOD do not get on a bus or a train to get to the airport. Hire a taxi. It's worth the 100 Euro to arrive at the airport alive, unraped, undrugged, unrobbed, and not thrown in the Tiber. Keep your wits about you at all times, trust no one, and return to America as quickly as possible. This is the only way to stay safe and happy. And free.
"That is all."
"Run for your lives. They sky is not falling. There isn't even any sky to fall. We'd be lucky if the sky was falling. Seriously, if you're not terrified, you better GET THERE, for your safety and the safety of your children. And freedom. You should be terrified for the safety of your freedom. Or something. Abstract phrase without substantive meaning.
"If you're an American citizen and value your freedom (which is your birthright) and should, for whatever ungodly reason find yourself outside the borders of glorious America, return as quickly as possible. If you are unable to immediately re-enter our fields of amber grain, please please PLEASE try to stay alive. It won't be easy, especially if you're in a city full of evil Gypsies like Rome. Avoid crowded areas like Stazione Termini, the Campo dei Fiori, and the Piazza Navona. And the Coliseum, Forum, Pantheon, St. Peter's (the square and basilica), Largo Argentina, Piazza Venezia, the Campidoglio, the Palatine, the Aventine, Piazza di Spagna, Trevi Fountain, Piazza del Popolo, the Villa Borghese, the Via del Corso, the Corso del Vittorio Emanuele II, all Musei di Roma, the Capitoline Museums, the Galleria Borghese, the Piazza Trilussa, and the river roads. As well as all major and minor churches and monuments.
"If these guidelines are strictly adhered to in the (ideally short) amount of time that you choose to remain outside the boundaries of our purple mountains' majesty, then you might possibly escape mortal harm. But ONLY if they are strictly adhered to. If, for reasons passing understanding, you choose to ignore these carefully researched and crafted rules, you will inevitably be robbed, drugged, raped, and then thrown into the River Tiber. And it will only happen in that order if you're lucky.
Stay in your places of residence. Eat at your hotel's restaurant. If your hotel doesn't have a restaurant, you should fast. Leave only to go to the airport and return to the United States. And oh DEAR GOD do not get on a bus or a train to get to the airport. Hire a taxi. It's worth the 100 Euro to arrive at the airport alive, unraped, undrugged, unrobbed, and not thrown in the Tiber. Keep your wits about you at all times, trust no one, and return to America as quickly as possible. This is the only way to stay safe and happy. And free.
"That is all."
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