Ravenna

I may sometimes appear to be bold and carefree, but sometimes I catch myself worrying and hesitating about odd things. I took the train to Ravenna yesterday, I wanted to see the Byzantine mosaics that the city is famous for. As I exited the train station, I watched two older women head to the nearby city-owned bike rental stand. Hmm, that could be interesting. But an irrational fear held me back.

I walked a few blocks towards the center of town and noticed that bikes were everywhere, with riders of all ages. Come on Elaine, what are you afraid of? I decided that of all of the crazy traveling I've been doing, that renting a bike in a bike-friendly medieval town hardly merits comment. And yet, I was afraid. But my feet hurt, and it was hot. So I turned around, plucked up my courage, and went back to rent a bike.

I felt like a six-year-old for the first few moments, remembering how to balance, to signal, to turn, to brake. Ah, it's starting to come back! A few minutes of loops around the block to get comfortable and then I started again towards the center of town. I was delighted to find that the historic center is almost exclusively reserved for pedestrians and bicycles. Before long, I discovered the freedom of exploring the maze of streets in a town that dates from the earliest days of the Roman empire. I pedaled through Ravenna, discovering the markets and visiting the museums and churches that are listed as World Heritage Sites.



Sadly, my photos don't do justice to the stunning mosaics. This is a closeup of a simple one at eye level.



The colors in the mausoleum below were brilliant. The size of an average piece of glass in this mosaic was no more than 1 cm.


This is the Byzantine church of San Vitale. The church and mosaics were built in the VI century from the years 526 to 547. Those aren't paintings! Each individual piece of glass in the mosaics has been individually placed, some of them by experts in restoration after damage by earthquakes and wars.

Bologna

Bologna has three nicknames: La Dotta (the Learned); La Rossa (the Red); and La Grassa (the Fat). The first expression comes from the fact that the city is home to the oldest university in Europe, established in 1088. I passed by this exhibit in the college of medicine:


The second nickname, the Red, originally came from the color of the roofs in the city center; now it refers to the city's more recent history of communism. The historic city center is small and well maintained. Here are a couple of landmarks:


Le due torre


The normally crowded Piazza Maggiore after a rainstorm

Bologna also has 25 miles of covered porticos which allow you to walk all over the historic city center sheltered from rain and hot summer sun.


My apartment is near one of the gates into the formerly walled city. Here is what that gate looked like when I came home after dinner last night:


And La Grassa (the Fat)? Bologna is known for its prosciutto and mortadella as well as its tortellini.

Bluffing in Italian

I bluff a lot when I'm trying to speak a language that I don't know very well. I resist speaking English and I'm not afraid to make a fool of myself as I plunge right in; getting around, ordering in restaurants, and asking directions in Italian, peppered with liberal doses of "mi scuzi" (excuse me), "per favore" (please) and "grazie" (thank you). I have a good ear for pronunciation and intonation and when asking a question, even if not grammatically perfect, I usually get rapid and detailed answers. It drives fellow travelers crazy because I often get away with it.

I sat down for lunch in a trattoria yesterday, ordered the special of the day and a glass of wine and was served rapidly. I noticed the English couple sitting at the table next to me eyeing my dish as they searched through their Italian phrasebook. I also noted that they tried three times to order another glass of wine and were grumbling about being snubbed by their server. Finally, when the waiters were out of earshot, I broke into English and started up a conversation with them. "You're not Italian?" they gasped, and then realized that I must have overheard their lament over the dual standard of service. We went on to have an interesting conversation about traveling and languages and I realized that there are a couple of advantages to eating alone: a) I can use my limited Italian without resorting to English and b) I can, when I wish, strike up conversations with English speaking strangers.

Sometimes my bluff results in surprises. The other day I sat down to have a glass of white wine before dinner and was somewhat surprised to find a small plate of prosciutto and cheese delivered along with the wine. Had I ordered it? Apparently. So I ate it and enjoyed it. Unfortunately, I'm not sure exactly what the server said as she was taking my order, so I'm not sure how to order the same thing again.

Anyway, I like surprises and my limited knowledge of Italian is affording me plenty of opportunities to be surprised and delighted. Here is a picture of last night's surprise and delight: agnellotti alla rucola. Yumm!


p.s. I made an exception to my Italian-only rule when I forgot to stamp my train ticket before boarding the train for Ravenna. When the controller noticed the missing date stamp, usually subject to an expensive penalty, I responded in English - pleading ignorance as a poor tourist. The controller was understanding, and lectured me in excellent English regarding the law. I remembered to stamp my ticket for the return.

Zen and pierced ears

I spent 27 minutes trying to put on (put in?) earrings this morning. I'm still a novice. I got my ears pierced just a few months ago and I wore the stainless steel "trainers" for 5 months, never daring to take them out because I didn't think I could get them back in by myself. I got three pairs of earrings for Christmas, but as of my birthday in April, I still hadn't worn them.

Ruth gave me a pair for my birthday at the end of April and laughed at my reluctance to wear them. Now it is June and I've finally taken out my trainers and have started wearing my new earrings. However, I'm still quite inept and typically allow at least 15 minutes extra to put them in. As a point of comparison: my hair takes less than 30 seconds to sweep forward with my fingers. No comb or hairdryer required.

This morning's lesson in patience was due to the extra dexterity required to match these two pieces by feel alone.


I tried looking in the mirror, but that was too hard. The task is often complicated by the fact that I don't have a dominant hand and I switch back and forth trying to figure out which one should hold the ear while the other finds the hole. Many days it's just too much trouble. I give up and don't wear them. But I don't want the holes to close up after all that trouble.

This morning was particularly difficult and I dropped the tiny stopper (or whatever you call that little thing) umpteen times. As I neared the limits of frustration, I suddenly realized I was being offered a lesson. I finally took a deep breath, saw it as an exercise in Zen breathing and Zen patience, switched hands, and found the mark.

Pisa

I arrived in Pisa just before dusk on Saturday afternoon. After quickly checking into a hotel, I dropped everything and made a beeline for the historic center. I hoped to take some pictures with the setting sun. Here is what I found when I got to the Duomo:


And no blogpost from Pisa would be complete without the Leaning Tower:


Afterwards, it was time to eat. Ah, my favorite question: Where will my pif lead me? Not here - a mostly empty touristy place in the main pedestrian street.


But alas, not here, just around the corner a packed tiny pizzeria where Italian families were waiting in line for the few tables or takeout pizzas. I really wasn't in the mood to wait for hours . . .


I also spotted this plaza, again away from the tourist street. It was filled with young Italians enjoying the Italian version of happy hour - beer or wine and teeny tiny sandwiches. I felt a little old to join this crowd. Besides, I wanted more to eat than a teeny sandwich.


I finally ended up at a restaurant/pizzeria and had a passable but not memorable pizza. Neither the place nor the food merited a photo.

I've just arrived in Bologna, and now it's time to go out and explore. . .

On the move again

I got up early to sort and pack and clean. I'm leaving Paris today and traveling to Italy. I like to travel light, so I've been deciding what I can fit in my carry on bag and what to leave here in Paris. I fly to Pisa this afternoon then take the train to Bologna tomorrow. I'll be spending several weeks on the road and don't know when I'll be back in Paris. So I've had a busy week, trying to do and see as much as possible before I leave.

On Thursday, I went to the museum of ethnography at the Quai Branly. I also discovered a brand new museum called the Museum of Letters and Manuscripts. I went there to see a special exhibit on Proust, but they also have original music scores, and even hand written pages by Einstein with his calculations for the theory of relativity. You can check out the museum here: http://www.museedeslettres.fr/public/index.php

On Friday I went to a fabulous exposition of the French photographer Willy Ronis. Here are a couple of his well known photos:




I also spent time this week with Teri while JD was working. We went to the Rodin museum and had fun wandering around my favorite neighborhoods. Of course, no visit to Paris would be complete without spending time sitting in cafés!

Aragon - the poet

I have a well known name in Paris. People, upon hearing my name would often say "like the poet" referring to Louis Aragon a well known Parisian. That said, I have never read his poetry, and didn't really know much about my namesake. This spring I began to see posters all over town announcing an exposition called "Aragon et l'art moderne" (Aragon and modern art).


One morning this week, I decided to learn more and I set out for the little known museum which was within walking distance of my apartment. The expo was very interesting and I discovered his poems, books, and photos. I was surprised to learn of the close relationship between Aragon and the major artists of the 20th century from 1920 till his death in 1982. The exhibit was filled with paintings and drawings by Ernst, Arp, Man Ray, Miro, De Chirico, Klee, Matisse, Picasso, Chagall, and others. Unfortunately, photography wasn't allowed so all I have to show is the poster above. By the way, Aragon lived just around the corner and I pass by this plaque every single day . . .