Marvelous Majolica Tilework
and the Farnese Collection

We were well rested after an early night and got to the Cloister of
Santa Chiara just as it was opening. It's lovely claim to fame is the tilework on the benches and columns of the cloister. They are the most charming collection of paintings you could hope to find, completely secular and simple. Each panel provoked a little sigh and I could have taken pictures of everyone one of them. The sketches drew on themes such as hunting, dancing, village life, and travel. You could imagine the nuns taking refuge in this sun-filled square and also taking refuge from the often-intense monastic life of religious worship. There were no "Him" and "Her" here, only beauty and light. Also, I imagine that Naples, though smaller in the past, was no less frenetic and chaotic.

Of course, Ira remembers a Naples in which he and Jim drove. We laughed over the idea of doing the same thing today. Traffic moves, but at a grudging pace, each car driver, pedestrian, and Vespa rider gives ground only on protest, and will gladly fill every inch of space. There doesn't seem to be any heat or anger to the constant honking and maneuvring. This morning, near Via di Tribunali, they had stopped traffic to move a big planter and all of these impatient Neapolitans, so quick to take an advantage of a second, waited without complaint in the knowledge that if they were stuck, then everyone else was stuck too.

The National Archeological Museum proved no less charming than the tilework. The paintings of Hercaluneum and Pompeii were more delicate than Ira remembered or I had imagined. Seeing the day-to-day art of the people who lived in Roman times is much different from Roman Art (though there was a lot of that at the museum as well). Instead, simple paintings, preserved for thousands of years by sudden tragedy, played across our imaginations. A couple in a wedding painting looked like a gentler version of "American Gothic. An astonishing and beautiful array of animals, leapt, crept, and slept on frescoed walls. Simple architectural sketches of yellow brushstrokes on a red background made Ira come back to ensure that I shared in his joy of them.

And of course there was plenty of imperial Rome at the Archeological Museum too. The Farnese Hercules is an impressive, oversized specimen. This is the "original," the copy of a long-lost Greek bronze. We had seen another copy at the Palazzo Farnese in Rome on a previous trip. There he looked perfectly at home in what is now the French Embassy. Here, he's surrounded by friends of his size and scale, as a row of double-sized gods and goddesses ranged along a big room. I don't think there's another collection of antique sculpture to rival this, certainly not in Rome and in neither Rome, London, nor Paris. Greece, fittingly enough, may have the equal to this collection.

Capri Next and Naples

We woke up to the sound of birds and went up for the continental breakfast on the terrace outside the dining room. The yogurt was pineapple and green tea, an odd combination that really tasted perfect, with the tea undercutting the sweetness of the fruit. We decided to walk along the cliffside path to get a glimpse of Casa Malaparte. It was a long walk, but the path alternated hot sun and shade and it was still early enough so that the shade was still cool. The path was so precarious at times, I found myself hugging the inside, which was ridiculous because it was paved and people lived in villas down either above or below the path.
Our first view was il Faraglioni, the rock formations that guard the southeastern corner of the island. One of the rocks has a natural arch that all the tour boats go under on their way around the island. Along the way, we saw a lot of bright green lizards. Some scampered away, but the fellow I took a picture of was happy basking on the cement edge of the path and saw no reason to move for a couple slow-moving tourists.

Villa Malaparta is tremendous. Ira sat and sketched it as I explored farther along the path, whose verticality at length defeated me. When I came back, Ira had a better understanding of the building and we were both ready to relax. By the time we got back to our hotel, we had just enough strength to make it to lounge chairs by the pool. A bottle of Pelligrino and an hour later, we were ready to pack up and move on.

I won't dwell on the trip back, as it passed without problem. Once back in Naples, we set out to tour some churches in the later afternoon. I won't go on and on here, but we saw three churches, sauntered down via San Gregorio Armeno (which is filled with shops that sell creche figures), and then had a drink in a busy sidewalk cafe where a German guy and a Brasilian gut apparently found true love. By this time we were tired and came back to the hotel for dinner nearby and an early evening in. Tomorrow, the Archeological Museum.

Capri!

Ira went to Capri over 30 years ago and he wanted to see if it was just as magical as he remembered. While I think not, as the crowds and tour groups have grown exponentially, it was so beautiful and so peaceful. As we were strolling along a path atop a 300-foot cliff, Ira commented on what we had just left behind in Naples, "never have heaven and hell seemed so close."

Our hotel was at the end of a long, long path, but the walk was worth it. When we had gotten off the boat there was a porter there waiting for our bags. We only had an overnight shoulder bag, but it was a nice, hot day and it was a pleasure to walk unencumbered. We had some sightseeing to do before checkin, however, so we grabbed a cab. The rear seats of cabs in Capri are open air, and this one car was a handsome white and red color. You can see the picture on this post with our driver, Franco. He proposed a tour itinerary and a price. We counter-offered and came to a deal. We climbed up towards and beyond Anacapri along impossibly narrow roads. At one point we had to back up to allow a narrow work vehicle to pass. Still, the volume of traffic is impressive. Franco told us that 15,000 people live on the island and that 15,000 visit it daily during the high season. We stopped to take pictures occasionally, but our first, "get out of the car and walk" stop occurred at the Villa Domecuta, the foundations of an old Roman villa along the northwest edge of the island. Lovely views, a gorgeous stone pine forest and a nice interlude before the first real tourist stop, the biggest one, the Grotto Azzurra.

From the car, we walked down about 100 steps and got into a tiny boat, whose pilot stood up and rowed us to a slightly bigger boat where we paid our money to get into the blue grotto. Then we leaned back and shot through the impossibly small cavern entrance. Once inside, the cave is dark, but the water is a blue such as you can't imagine. The cliffs don't come down to the sea floor, so light seeps in all around the cave and turns the water a deep deep marvelous color. Our pilot burst into song, the only one to do so and he had time for about three songs before he rowed us outside. His singing voice was rich and deep and resonant in the little cave. (There are no pictures because it is one of those things it's impossible to see in a photograph.)

From there we climbed back up the hill to take an hourlong stop at Villa San Michele in Anacapri, a house designed by a Swedish polymath who was a doctor, wrote a popular book about Capri, was one of the first rabid animal rights activists, and was the lover of the Queen of Sweden who visited the island frequently. (Sweden still owns the villa and has a vice-consulate next door, which must be among the most sought-after posts available!) The gardens there are lovely. To say the views from the garden are terrific is redundant. Views everywhere in Capri are breathtaking.

On Franco's recommendation, we lunched at a place in Capri that was filled with Italians. My anchovies were the best I've ever had, so sweet! I enjoyed the pizza tremendously, with it's chewy crust and flavor-filled tomatoes. Then we strolled over the the Piazza Umberto I for gelato, which was OK. It was a pleasure to sit in the shade, at a slight remove from the tiny square which was filled with tour group after tour group. Capri used to be known as the home of the rich and eccentric. Now, alas, it's the daytrip stop of the masses.

Our hotel, the Punta Tragana, was deluxe. It sits off the southeastern side of the town of Capri, overlooking the Piccolo Marina. Our room was palatial. It had a lower sitting room with an adjacent balcony that looked up the coastline. Then we climbed marble stairs to get to the main part, which contained a bedroom and attached sitting room, a walk-in closet, and a bathroom that included a tub room, a shower room, and a wC. I think they were a little slow at the beginning of the season because we were definitely upgraded. (On a historic note, this hotel is where Eisenhower planned the assault on Montecassino, a particularly bloody battle that opened up the way for the Allies to take Rome.

In the afternoon we just relaxed, had a drink on the upper terrace and watched the seagulls wheel about on the cliffs below us. The gentleman tending bar was efficient and kind, looking crisp in white pants and shirt. Songbirds did their thing in the treetops. Apparently, Capri is along the migration path from the north to Africa and gets an incredible number and variety of birds. Axel Munthe, the Swedish animal lover, bought the mountainside to protect it from local bird lovers. (He also enraged the locals by scaring off quail by firing a cannon at hourly intervals!). To make our day even lazier, we ate at the hotel, with the dining room overlooking the island. We ate too early for the moonrise, but the full moon shone over the sea while we were lying in bed. The perfect end to a blissful day.

Masterworks and Grafitti

Not a lot of description here. We've got to get to dinner and I'm running out of Internet time. We went to the Museo Nazionali di Capodimante to see an array of wonderful paintings. There were very few superstars in the collection, but the overall quality was incredible. I've posted some of my favorites below, along with some great grafitti we saw today while visiting a few other churches. Enjoy! Capri tomorrow and Thursday, then back to Naples.

Certosa di San Martino

Our first stop of a busy day was up on the hill at the charterhouse of San Martino. The view from the top was vast, though the pictures contain a lot of haze. I've included one closeup of the city below that gives you a pale idea of how crowded a city it is, though of course, it's best if you're on the streets along with everyone else to get the real idea of the closeness of it all. The adjoining museum had a selection of great objects, including a few late 18th century ships. There are two cloisters there. The big one was lovely, with skulls decorating the railings. (There's quite the cult of death in Naples, even though the church has spent centuries trying to snuff it out, no pun intended.)

Also in the museum is a collection of creche figures, which is a Neapolitan specialty. They had rooms full of them, mostly showing Neapolitans from the lower orders in customary costume. They're made out of clay so that the figures could be posed. The head, hands, and sometimes legs were made out of painted terracotta. There's an enormous creche scene that spans about 23 feet wide. I've put in a picture of the top of it, but it really doesn't give you an idea of the size of it. It's in a cavelike setting, exactly the way the designer, Michele Cucienello intended it be seen.

The church at San Martino was incredible. We walked into this absolute fantasy of paint and marble. Ira said, "Well, now you don't have to go to Sicily, because this is what the churches look like there." It had a unity that elaborate decorations like this often lack, however, and it was just a delight to sit in the grand space and enjoy the colors. We walked one of the interior rooms to see some amazing intarsio work, inlaid wood panels depicting scenes from the Bible like Jonah and the whale and Daniel in the lion's den.

We took the funicular down the hill to have lunch at the Galleria d'Umberto I. Because of the lack of tourists, we ate in kind of a workingman's cafe/bar. Pasta? Yeah, you can have that. No, we don't make different kinds, just the kind we make for today. It turned out to be a delicious spinach and veal orchiette. Ira had mixed vegetables and we sat and admired the 19th century ironwork and all the glorious light.

Bird and Lizard

I did mention that Naples was surreal, correct? We were taking a cab to dinner and in a traffic jam. I noticed that one of the bottlenecks was a double-parked driver's ed car. I felt a cold frisson go down my back at the thought of people learning to drive in Naples, whether the horror was at the poor student having to learn to drive "correctly" in a place where nothing is "correct," or whether my chill was due to all of the accidents that this inexperienced driver would cause. But that tells you nothing about the bird or the lizard, does it?

As I said, we're stopped in a jam and I noticed about five guys watching a bird on the sidewalk. I looked at the bird, and really, nothing spectacular, just an ordinary small brown bird. Then I noticed it hopping forward oddly and looked closer and realized it was facing off with a largeish lizard, nothing grotesquely big, but definitely larger than a California fence lizard. They skirmished back and forth, both showing determination. Eventually, the bird gave up the thought of this meal and flew away. Now one of the men stepped in to grab the lizard, which gave up the fight at that moment and scurried away, man stooped in hot pursuit. I don't know whether he ever caught up to it because the cab shot away, but it was a strange little scene in the middle of this mad big city.

Naples: The First,
Second, and
Third World

Only half a day in Napoli and already I'm half freaked out and half impressed. You know that feeling when you're watching a sci-fi movie like "Blade Runner" or "The Fifth Degree"? That feeling you get when everything kind of looks familiar but there's so much going on as the camera pans down the street that you feel disoriented even by the familiarities you see? That's Naples.

We wanted to stay by the train station since we're taking so many trips away, but the hotel there was grim and the window was easily reached by the street. Given Naples' reputation, we decided to trade up. On the cab over to the new hotel (not grand by the way as it's the Holiday Inn) our cabdriver said, "Welcome to hell," and then proceeded to trash-talk Naples, its lack of civic pride, its lawlessness, its poverty. Gee, maybe he shouldn't be a "front line" type of person for tourists!

We checked in, dealt with the variety of problems one typically runs into in the second world: strange Internet rituals, keys that don't work the first time, even stranger taxi rituals. (I mean, everyone knows the doorman can't hail a cab; you have to go to the front desk and they will call one.) Then we headed out for a stroll during the passagatta. We started at the Piazza Dante. Getting there was very Calcutta. I stopped looking ahead in the cab and just stared at the shops that passed by rather than see the chaos of vespas, pedestrians, and other traffic as they wove in, around, across, and some times almost through our path.

There were lots of kids playing soccer in the piazza, probably about five groups rangin in age from 5 to 15 (groups segregated by age however). They all used these ultracheap soccer balls you saw for sale in the stores that were designed to look like American basketballs. Did I mention that Naples was kind of a surreal place? We then walked down the street, packed with pedestrians and the occasional vespa swerving onto the sidewalk to save an instant's time on the road. I had a pistacchio gelato (good but nothing like the godlike taste of the gelato at Harry's Dolci). Ira briefly consulted a map while we finished the gelato and then got us quickly to the Chiesa del Gesu Nuovo, which has this severe front of squared pointed stone. Apparently the interior of the church was destroyed by fire and rebuilt in the 18th century.
We did get into the interior of the Basilica di Santa Chiara. (We didn't see the famous cloister of the adjoining monastery, but we will later on.) Inside, the church was rather severe (more fire damage reconstructed at a later date) and there was a service going on (Monday night!) so we didn't stay long. We did sit there long enough for the priest to begin singing in a heavily accented but beautical and strong tenor voice. It was kind of glorious.)

Then we walked up a pedestrian street lined with music shops, mostly guitars stores with a smattering of drum stores. And then down a street enclosed by two portas and roofed at the far end. The shops were all closing by then, but it's apparently a book street, with metal racks put out into the street. Then we arrived back in Piazza Dante and had dinner at Ristorante 53 there, a simple place that gave us some terrific dishes. Ira's antipasto, eggplant and tomato was rich and creamy and it made me glad to think of those very crops I have growing in Sonoma! My pasta dish was a seafood risotto that was delicious but so big I barely had room for my polpette al sugo.

Train to Napoli Today

Here are some random photos for you to enjoy.

Vaporetto Cruising and

Palazzo Grassi

First of all, the cruising. We took a couple of long vaporetto rides today, just because it was such a nice day and Venice is so charming by boat. Both times we got great seats (in front and back) and decided just to stay on. We even went out to the Lido and back. The weather has been so perfect today, with bright sunshine and warmth, even out on the lagoon. I was in shirtsleeves all day!

We did of course get in some culture.
The highlight of the day was the Palazzo Grassi, another outlet of the Pinault Collection (of della Dogana fame). To think that France could have had this amazing collection of contemporary art if they had acted as swiftly as Venice did. Of course, seeing these intense works of today is so wonderful as contrasted with the old and gorgeously reconstructed buildings is a perfect combination. The first artwork you see is "Dancing Nazis," by Piotr Uklanski, which has a huge lighted disco floor a la Saturday Night Fever and then a wall full of movie stars dressed in Nazi uniforms. Hidden speakers play a selection of dance tunes. No one break danced when I was there, but it had that vibe. The collection is huge, including highlights from the Chapman Brothers again and Murakami.

I'm running out of time and haven't even mentioned a second trip to della Dogana, and yet another pilgrimage to Ca' Rezzonico to see the exquisite frescoes by Giandomenico Tiepolo. If you're planning a trip to Venice, Ca' Rezzonico should be on your must-do list.

Alle Testiere

We went to this restaurant about five years ago just because it was near our hotel near the campo Santa Maria della Formosa. This is one of those strange spots in Venice where maps don't work. What looks simple on a map turns into sortoportegos and alleys and blind twists and turns. So when we found this little restaurant, went in, and had a tremendous meal, we went a second time. It turns out alle Testiere is one of the choice locations in Venice, serving good, fresh, seafood. The last night Ira and I went there, it was closed due to a death in the family. Ira and I briefly considered crashing the funeral hoping for a cold collation or something, but then we went to a second choice, which was closed as well. By then we were hungry and tired and just stopped at the next place. Ugh. The only bad meal I've ever had in Italy.

But, back to the good meals, and last night was one of them. We had another great wine from the veneto. Ira had the baccala manteca, while I started off with soft shell crabs that were the perfect blend of sweet meat, lightly textured shells, and a strong vinegar sauce. Then we split an order of ricotta ravioli in the best tomato sauce ever. It was sweet and perfect. Ira then had scampi, which was tender and tasty, but difficult to each. I had a John Dory in pistachio sauce. (Yes, I've been having lots of pistachio sauce and since I won't have time to tell you about lunch at Harry's Dolci, let me just interject that Ira and I had the best pistachio gelato there after a gloriously restful lunch.)

San Giorgio Maggiore

We had a guided tour of the cloisters and library of San Giorgio Maggiore on the island of the same name, just across the lagoon from St. Marks Piazza. It's run by the Cini Foundation, begun by a wealthy Italian after the death of his son in a plane accident. (Apparently he was trying to impress some girl.) He paid for the restoration of the monastery that takes up most of the island. Ira had been previously, but wanted to show me around. The first cloister was done in a very traditional style. The second was by Palladio, and with his typically astute architectural sense, he managed to make the cloister feel much lighter and much more modern than the Laurel Cloister, which had been completed about 100 years previously. He used thinner, doubled columns, which added air and regularity.

The big attraction at the Cini is a big fake, a photographic reproduction of Veronese's "Wedding at Cana" (the site of Jesus' first miracle, that of turning water into wine). For those inclined to the apocryphal, it is also said that this was Jesus' own wedding, but of course, you could be stoned for holding such an opinion.

Napoleon had stolen the original, cut it into five pieces and hauled it off to Paris where you can now view it, restored, in the Louvre. It originally had been at the far wall of the rectory at the monastery and the monks would dine daily while looking at this masterwork. Without the painting, the dining room is just a room, so the Cini Foundation decided to reproduce the painting in a painstaking clone, using high technology. Of course, such an undertaking was hugely controversial. For my taste, I love having the ability to see this work of art in its natural setting. (The image that I have chosen at the top of the blog post is of a musiciam at the wedding. It is said to be Veronese's own self portrait. He painted the other members of the troupe as famous painters of the day as well.)

Al Covo

The picture is of Diane and Cesare, the owners of the restaurant. We first went there in 2004 after an e-mail exchange with a friend in NY who said, "Go to Al Covo, introduce yourself to Diane, and have the fritto misto." We did all three and it's become one of our favorite restaurants. Cesare is from the Lido and supervises the cooking of most of the dishes. Diane is from Lubbock, Texas, and makes the desserts, including a heavenly pear and prune tart. If the restaurant is filled with Americans, it's because Diana has so much Texan charm. She can talk with the best of them. Also, she remembers Ira, so we always get some extra sugar thrown our way.

The food is the important thing. We started with a Friulano 2007, nice and crisp and everything you expect from an Italian wine, which is a minimum of fuss and a lot of drinkability. We shared an appetizer, saor with a variety of fish. Saor is a sauce made with vinegar, onions, and raisins and it usually accompanies fish. Here it accompanied four different kinds of fish and a slice of eggplant. Every morsel was delicious, though I didn't have any of the shrimp since Ira cleared that away quickly.

My first course was rigatoni with a pistachio sauce. Ira had spaghetti nero di seppie (squid ink pasta). We traded bites back and forth because they were so good. Ira's was more delicate than usual; it was definitely the nouvelle version of seppie nero. He continued his elegant meal with the fritto misto. There's nothing extraordinary about it, except that it achieves an uncommon lightness. You are encouraged not to put lemon on it, it's so light. I had the costoletta di vitello, and the veal covered two-thirds of the plate.

Dessert was a thick, dark chocolate tort for Ira, and the incredible pear and prune tart for me. The meal was so good, we'll be back Sunday night.

Doge's Palace

Perhaps one of the most crowded museum experiences I've ever had. It was easy to get in. We waited in a short line and then got started in the cortile (or courtyard). Most of the pictures are from there as you couldn't take pictures inside. (Of course, many people did, though the light was dim and they'll get lots of overlit flash shots.) However, back to the cortile. There was a lot of renovation going on, so some parts are covered in scaffolding. You could see the glorious results, however, as the stone in the interior walls of the cortile were clean, bright, and light. It looks marvelous.

Once inside, things got a bit crowded. The palazzo ducale seems to be one of the main places to take tours, especially schoolchildren. Some of the rooms had up to 100 people inside, which was OK for the larger chambers, but really packed for some of the smaller ones. They have these new "whisper" headsets and microphones for tour groups, however, which meant the noise level was bearable. (I remember on a previous trip being put off by some loud, pompous guide in Ravenna who was indescribably overbearing.) This was manageable. And speaking of manage, we did manage to find a "sweet spot" between tour groups and moved in relative peace throughout the doge's personal rooms and then the "assembly" meeting rooms.

Here's a quick rundown of some of the better rooms and works of art therein (with links if I could find 'em). The Sala del Scudo had two enormous globes and wonderful maps painted along the walls. (The maps were updated in 1762 and the Asian map traces the route of Marco Polo, complete with camels! The Scala d'Oro leads up to the doge's personal apartments and just gleams in real life. It's a pleasure to mount the stairs. Above a much more unprepossessing staircase (a small one that links the doge's digs to the official rooms upstairs) contains a Titian's fresco of St. Christopher. The importance of this representation is that St. Christopher is carrying the Christ child not across a river but across the Venetian lagoon. Then, in a later room whose name escapes me, there was a marvelous Bellini Pieta. In the Shield Room (but later in this whirlwind tour because you can see it more clearly as you walk past it later) is a Tiepolo of Neptune delivering the gold of the sea to Venus. The lion being used as an armrest by Venus is particularly endearing! One place where the crowds are made insignificant is the Sala del Maggior Consiglio, still one of the largest rooms in Europe. There's an enormous painting of Paradiso, one of the last works by Tintoretto. I found it muddy and uninspiring, but it is large. One detail I loved: the lion of St. Mark's appears in the painting. Apparently wild animals do make it into the kingdom of heaven! Another great feature of the room are the portraits of the past doge's that line the frieze. In place of one doge's portrait is a black curtain with his name, Marin Faliero. He is not pictured because he was impeached. That's the ultimate blacklist. The last room is one that few of the crowds got to, even though it contains some terrific paintings. The frieze portraits along one wall are all done by Titian and they pop from the wall, despite being high up. Then, there's a glorious painting on the Battle of Lepanto (when the Venetians conquered the Turks) done by Vicentio. The repeating red oars of the main Venetian ship regulate this painting and keep the battle scene from turning into chaos. Seeing it in person lets you dwell on small details, like one Venetian soldier, hanging on to an oar in the middle of the battle and directly looking at the viewer.

By the time we got through that whole museum, our doges were barking, so we're sitting in our hotel room resting up for our first major meal of the trip. Al Covo awaits.

Below I've included a detail of one of the sculpture's on the giant's staircase. Look at the eye of the sea creature the giant is holding by the tail. He looks mad! Well, so you would be if your tail were being held in the grip of a big marble guy.

Punta della Dogana

Our first stop was Francois Pinault's new contemporary art museum at the Punta della Dogana. It's extraordinary. The building alone is worth the admission fee. It started life as the customs house, and the renovation did it proud. The brick glows, the wooden ceiling beams impress, and the new concrete is so smooth it feels like marble. The art looks fantastic in this place too, as you enter grand spaces or catch a glimpse of sections of artworks through a gap in the wall.

The standout piece was by Jake and Dinos Chapman, called "Fucking Hell." It's composed of 9 dioramas shaped in the form of a swastika with incredibly detailed scenes that combine Hieronymous Bosch with model train sets. But imagine scenes of nazis and skeletons both killing each other and morphing into each other. The imagination is baroque and gruesome; the effect is to create a sense of wonder at how fucked up life has gotten for humans, and it doesn't look like it's going to be a good afterlife. Luckily we saw this last because we would have had as much interest in the other artworks after this. It trivialized the other art, which may not make a lot of sense for a museum.

But we did enjoy the show and the museum and it was a terrific introduction to Venezia. The picture of the frog is part of a Charles Ray sculpture. After the art we took the vaporetto to San Marcos and sat in the big campo there and ate ice cream.

Venezia e aperto!

We took the train from Rome this morning. The four-hour trip was uneventful, with many scenes of charming farmland, a lot of fog just north of Rome, and a few long tunnels between Fierenze and Bologna. The grafitti around Fierenze was incredible, with vivid colors and repeated motifs (the dog faces were my favorite).

We staying at the Ca' Pisani Design Hotel, and it seems like we've found our hotel in Venice. It has it all. Great location on the Dorsoduro where we like to stay. Great design (modernized deco) and best of all, a large bathroom so you don't feel like you're in danger of breaking a hip every time you shower. I've even included some photos just because it's such a great place. The staff is friendly. They made all our dinner reservations for the week and tomorrow we're going to solicit their help in getting tickets to the Giotto Chapel in Padova.

National Museum of Rome

After a wonderful lunch we went to the Palazzo Massimo, which was just a few short blocks from our hotel. I should mention lunch. We started with a shared plate of prepared vegetables that were terrific: fava beans and prosciutto, puntarello in an anchovy vinaigrette, roasted onions, some kind of spinachy bitter green, olives, and an eggplant dish. Ira had the caccia e pepe spaghetti while I had the alio e olio. These are both simple dishes, but Italians know how to make a simple pasta come alive. It starts with al dente pasta that is always the perfect texture. We also polished off a half bottle of house red, so we went home and took a quick nap.

Next up of course was the museum, which features an amazing array of mosaic floors and ancient wall paintings. Many of the room decorations came from the neighboring area when they were constructing the train station. Anywhere you dig in Rome you're likely to find ruins of some sort. There were amazing sculptures as well. One of the fun things we saw there was an amazing sculpture of two griffins eating a deer that forms the base of a table. It's a very "deco" piece of ancients art, and we originally saw it at the Getty Villa in Malibu. We had gone there to see all the best artworks before Italy sued to get them back. Well, they did and they did! At least it's gorgeously presented at the national museum, which is free. So fun all around. Dinner tonight and then we'll head to Venezia tomorrow. Don't worry, we'll be back in Rome soon.