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...
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