snowed thru the night last night
also pieced together a snowy rome panorama from the gianicolo (4000 pixels across, original is 30,000):
“For everything that’s gained by our ability to store and maintain more information than ever before, something is lost that has to do with texture, context and association.”
Mostly Carpaccio.
After finding reference to it online, I sought out the oldest flood marker in Rome. Dating to 1277, it’s in the Ponte Rione section, not far from the Ponte Sant’Angelo. Tucked under the Arco de’ Banchi, it once hung on the wall across the street by the church of Saint Celsius and Julian, but was moved here when the church was rebuilt in 1730. It’s definitely not the highest marker – that was for 1598, 4 meters above street level! Here’s a good page on all the floods and markers.
a favorite sound from venice – a vaporetto taking up the slack in the rope at a stop (and the gate opening and closing).
Sound-activated La Befana Dolls:
Hard to describe the sight and sound of Rome’s skyline at midnight, from the roof terrace of the American Academy. Had never seen or heard so many fireworks at once over such a massive area.
This video doesn’t capture it, of course, but here’s a short pan over part of the valley.
The higher-quality audio below might do a better job; it leaves a bit for the imagination. You kind of need to crank it up with headphones to get a sense of the near and far of the explosions and reverberations (and countless car alarms) in the Tiber valley.
From up above it all, it was easy to believe this was a collective effort to put on a show for those of us on the Gianicolo.
“a kind of feminist-steampunk French-history lesson”
Goings On About Town: Art
Walked down to St. Peter’s square on Christmas day to catch the pope’s Urbi et Orbi blessing, and just to see the general hubub in the cosmic and temporal center of Catholicism.
One of the first things to see when heading north from Porta San Pancrazio is the facade of Michelangelo’s studio (or at least I’ve been told). Don’t quite know the story there, other than that the facade has moved around a bit.
Some lucky girl was getting a Christmas morning pony ride on Via Garibaldi.
The view from Piazza Garibaldi was the clearest I’d seen.
The helical lantern of St. Ivo and the roof of the Pantheon, and snow-covered mountains in the distance:
Turning around from the piazza’s view, Michelangelo’s dome of St. Peter’s is visible through the trees. A little further down the road there’s a nice view of Castel Sant’Angelo and the dome of San Giovanni dei Fiorentini.
As the descent to the vatican begins, one passes Sant’Onofrio al Gianicolo. Among many other things, this was the site of an ancient hermitage, and was once out in the boonies in relation to the city. Here’s a 16th C. view of Sant’Onofrio from the west, the vatican to the left:
And here’s the church now, including the attached cloister. The poet Torquato Tasso spent the last years of his life here at the end of the 16th c., and his cell became a place of pilgrimage for many poets and writers.
Further down, I made my way into the Vatican via the Porta Santo Spirito, through which pilgrims from Trastevere would have passed.
Just inside the porta, Santa was making an escape.
Turning onto Borgo Santo Spirito, I could hear the amplified voice of the Papa.
I had arrived in the square just as the pope was finishing up a blessing. It was less crowded than I had expected.
The pope then began a long recitation of Christmas greetings in many languages. Occasionally he would name a language with a large representation in the crowd, prompting a big cheer and sometimes a chant.
When the pope was done, there was a big cheer and the bells began ringing. I moved up a little closer to see the swiss guard and other soldiers and bands marching down the steps as they pulled up the red banner from the balcony.
Many people and groups posing for photos, often with flags – and often eager to pose for a complete stranger.
Besides seeing the Papa, I also came to see the unveiled creche. My low expectations were fulfilled; the actual nativity scene exhibits the same curious level of craft as the rest. A chihuahua shared my opinion.
An expanding group of carolers were singing in front of the creche.
After one last look at the square, I headed over to the church of Santo Spirito, hoping to catch their version of a creche. I arrived just in time to witness an apparently drunk guy walking down the roped-off aisle, chastising either himself or the visitors, I couldn’t quite tell. I only caught mention of Pope John Paul II at the end.
But their creche was nice and gaudy.
Crossing the Ponte Vittorio Emanuele, I encountered some friendly scottish-italian santa joggers.
I made my way up the steps of via di Sant’Onofrio to get back to the Janiculum.
On my way up past the Amphitheater of Tasso’s Oak, where the poet supposedly meditated, I started to hear a man shouting over the bluff. I thought I might be coming upon another sad Christmas drunk. But I quickly realized his shouts were being answered below, from the Carcere di Regina Coeli – Regina Coeli Prison – along the Tiber. I like to think it was Vicenzo’s brother greeting him on Christmas.
I made it back to Piazza Garibaldi, where the street vendors were hawking noisy toys.
I couldn’t blame Garibaldi for continuing to look askance at the Vatican from the center of his Piazza.
