Archive | April 2009

Good Friday Observed and Dinner with the Ullals

Apr11

Good Friday, April 10, 2009
London

Good Friday dawned cloudy in London as we decided to start our day of fast and abstinence from meat with hot cross buns for breakfast–a tradition that both Llew and I had observed when growing up in Bombay and Karachi respectively. While I showered, I sent Llew on a mission to “our larder” (which is how my next-door neighbors Barbara and Tim describe the Marks and Spencer Simply Foods shop that’s right opposite our building). He returned, disappointed that the store opened only at 10 am on Good Friday. With Jordan’s Crunchy Muesli to egg us on as a substitute, our rather hectic day began.

As Llew turned to the sorting out of his baggage in preparation for his return to the States on Easter Monday, I made a quick pasta with all the bits and bobs that were in my fridge. I froze a whole load of it in small Tupperware containers (Thanks, Sylvia, they’re coming in soooo handy here), then cleaned my kitchen and decided to take Llew off on one of my self-guided Frommer walks in London entitled “Ghosts in Covent Garden”. Only Holborn was like a ghost-town itself what with the closure of all shops along the street and the absence of people–it felt like a Saturday or Sunday usually does in these parts. Being accustomed to the concept of ‘separation of Church and State’ in the United States, Llew and I are astonished at the fact that both Good Friday and Easter Monday are Bank Holidays (what we call Federal holidays) out here in Anglican England. We realize how many wonderful religious holidays we miss out on in the USA where not only do we get, on an average, just two weeks of paid privilege leave but a total of no more than six holidays during the year–no wonder the country is plagued by coronary thrombosis and other stress-related illnesses!

Our walk began at Holborn Tube station, so across Kingsway we went to Great Queen Street and into Drury Lane where we visited two old theaters–the Royal Theater (London’s oldest and one I have visited at least thrice, most recently to see Rowan Atkinson as Fagin in Oliver which is currently on) and the Lyceum Theater (currently staging The Lion King and which I have never seen except in passing). Both have their fair share of resident ghosts. In the former, I posed by a sculpture of a very dapper Noel Coward in the lobby. The streets all around Covent Garden were empty and it was a rare pleasure to feel as if we had the city entirely to ourselves. We also paused in a children’s playground that was once the burial ground of the Church of St. Martin-in-the-Field.

On to Somerset House in Aldwych we went, across the spurting fountains in the courtyard to the Stamp Office and down the spiral staircase into the basement that took us to the Victoria Embankment and into Temple Place and Strand Lane where we saw the remains of what were once Roman Baths, now maintained by the National Trust. A great sunken bath is all that is left of what was once a spring-fed bath that passed into the possession of the Earls of Arundel who once owned a house where a network of streets now stands.

Along the Embankment, we posed in the paws of the Sphinx at Cleopatra’s Needle, the hieroglyphic-clad obelisk, which allowed us to learn a bit of its rather checkered history. Then the drizzles began and we were grateful for our Umbrella for Two (a Nautica gift from our English friends in Connecticut, Jonathan and Diana Thomson) as we crossed the street and entered the Embankment Gardens. We marveled anew at the genius of Victorian engineering that pushed the Thames so far back from its original course–its waters once lapped the York Gateway in the garden –by creating the Embankment. In the Gardens a treat awaited us as thousands of tulips are on the verge of bursting into glorious bloom and my camera worked overtime as it tried to capture some of the awesome color on the parrot tulips whose petals have already unfurled themselves. Give it another few days and this little gem will be a riot of color as spring flings itself victorious over the city. I cannot wait to return from Belgium next week and throw myself into the joys of Spring madness.

Our walk ended at this point–so Llew and I crossed the Strand and walked towards the National Gallery where I wanted to introduce him to a Renaissance painter whose acquaintance I have only recently made–Carlo Crivelli, who has a whole room devoted to his work at the National. Yet, I had never heard of or seen any of his work in all my travels in Italy and all of my reading into Renaissance Art History. Where had this totally brilliant artist been hiding? He has become one of my favorites and I simply had to share his astounding work with Llew.

The National was mobbed on this holiday weekend as so many Easter travelers have descended upon the city. I realized afresh how fortunate I was to have had the galleries almost entirely to myself during those cold winter weeks when I did the bulk of my study of its peerless collection. As we jostled our way inside, we realized that in keeping with the solemnity of the day, the Gallery had organized a special talk on Eugene Delacroix’s painting Christ on the Cross and we headed towards Gallery 41 for this lecture. A group of about sixty people had already set up their chairs at the painting and in a few minutes, the rather small but deeply stirring canvas was introduced to us by one of the curators. This was followed by a talk by one of the members of the Education Department. He, unfortunately, was so soft that though we were seated only in the third row, we barely heard a word he said and, in disappointment, we left and headed towards the Sainsbury Wing to see the Crivelli Gallery.

As I expected, Llew was as blown away as I was by Crivelli’s work, most of which are altar pieces that he was commissioned to create for churches in Italy. The detail, the compositions, the expressions on the faces of his saints are all so exquisite that it is impossible to hurry away from any of his works. It was Llew, who on reading the curatorial notes in the gallery, pointed out to me that the reason this Venetian is so little-known is probably because he was banished from Venice by the Church “for adultery”. This probably finished his painting career and prevented his altar pieces from actually being placed in the churches that commissioned them. It was baffling to us how powerful the Church was during the Renaissance and how much of an artist’s career rode upon the patronage of the Popes. This had certainly come home to us during our recent travels in Rome and we were struck anew by this phenomenon while studying Crivelli’s work.

Then, we were out on the streets left slick by all the rain and walking along Charing Cross Road to Foyle’s, London’s most famous bookshop, where Llew wanted to browse through some of the recent fiction titles. I left him to his perusal while I went in search of a rest room as the one at the National had a queue a mile long! After we had spent a while looking through books–a pass time we mutually enjoy–we picked our steps towards New Oxford Street from where we took the bus home.

Simply Food had opened and we were able to get our hands on some hot cross buns (one a penny, two a penny..if you have no daughters, give them to your sons!) and had ourselves a light lunch with a bun each and some asparagus soup. Then, it was time to inform Cynthia and Michael that we would be at the 5 pm service at St. Paul’s Cathedral and off we went for a short and well-deserved siesta.

Awaking in an hour, we readied ourselves for Church, taking the bus to the Cathedral where Cynthia had reserved seats for us right in the very front. As usual, the choir and the clergy made it memorable indeed and I heard, for the very first time, a sung account of the Passion of our Lord Jesus Christ, which was rather wonderful indeed. The Veneration of the Cross was done in a rather novel way with a large cross set up in the center of the church and a circle of kneelers placed around it. The congregation was invited to go up to the kneelers and worship individually at the cross for a few minutes. This was possible, I suppose, since the congregation was rather thin. I don’t think it would be possible in the Catholic churches we have attended over the years on Good Friday where the churches are filled to capacity and such individual worship would be impossible.

Within an hour, we were out on the pavement saying Hullo to Bishop Michael Colclough, Canon-Pastor of St.Paul’s, who was pleased to see Llew again, even if briefly. After bidding the Colcloughs goodbye, we got on to the Tube for the next part of our agenda–a ride to Harrow to the home of our friends Bina and Navin Ullal who had invited us to dinner. I had called Bina and left a message with her daughter Alisha to let her know that we would not be eating meat. Llew and I carried Easter eggs from Thornton’s for Alisha and Dhiren (their kids) and after about an hour and a half, we were seated in their living room enjoying Bina’s appetisers–hot potato croquettes with mint chutney and a variety of nibbles–olives, cheddar cheese, cashew nuts, potato crisps (all well chosen for our day of vegetarianism). Bina is a very good cook indeed as I know from all the times I have stayed with them while traveling up and down from the States to India. We were high school friends and neighbors in the Reserve Bank Colony in Byculla in Bombay where our fathers were once bankers, and our growing years are filled with the most marvelous memories that we still recall and giggle over.

Over Bina’s generous spread of hot chapatis (which I was eating after ages) and mushroom curry, potato bhaji, pea curry and a huge salad with hot gulab jamuns for dessert, we spent a truly fun evening. The Ullals other guests included Amulya Barooah and his family–wife Lily and son Jasper and their adorable golden cocker spaniel named Daisy. The evening was spent in peals of laughter as we recalled, as we often do, the wonderful food we grew up with in Bombay’s long-gone Irani restaurants. It is a pity that the dhansak and vindaloo that passes as authentic Indian food in Indian restaurants today all over the world is not a patch on the true specimens produced in Parsi and Goan kitchens in India and, being foodies all, we lamented this fact in unison! Amulya is off to Madras but had suggested we get back together again at their place in Crickelwood upon his return.

The Barooahs dropped us off to Baker Street Tube station at the end of a really great evening and Llew and I were home after midnight, when quite exhausted by the events of Good Friday, we tumbled into bed.

Orthotics at Last! And Dinner at the Rixhons.

Apr9

Maundy Thursday, April 9, 2009
London

After weeks…no months, of waiting, I finally had my Orthotics appointment today. It took no less than 120 attempts to call the central appointment agency to obtain a date for this meeting with the person who would fit me for Orthotics that are supposed to help patients afflicted with plantar fascittis. It was thanks to one of NYU’s staff members, Yvonne Hunkin, who suggested that I fax the place, that I finally was given an appointment. Not surprisingly, despite the fact that Llew and I went to bed at well past 11. 30 pm last night, I awoke at 5. 30 am so as not to be late for my 8. 30 appointment this morning at Belsize Road. Only I was mistaken–my appointment wasn’t at 8. 30 am, it was at 9. 30! This meant a good hour’s wait in the surgery, but we’d taken material to read and Llew got a chance to see how the NHS operates in the UK.

Rory Nottingdale was the man who fitted me with a pair of medically-designed insoles that fit into my walking shoes. They have the advantage of being interchangeable, i.e. I can insert them into any pair of shoes. Rory suggested I wear them for the next three months and if there is no improvement by mid-July, he suggests I make a follow-up appointment. I will, of course, fax him at that stage as I have no intention of trying to get him on the phone! But, hopefully, I will not need to call him at all and the Orthotics will make a difference to my posture and change the way my feet feel.

Since we were only a block away from Abbey Road, of course, Llew and I had to walk to the Abbey Studios and the crossing made famous by the Beatles’ album that featured the Fab Four striding across the street in single file. We found other Beatles’ fans taking pictures at the cross road and we, gigglingly, did likewise. There were walls outside the Abbey Road Studios that were filled with scribbles left by generations of fans which we read as we posed for pictures by the road sign that said ‘Abbey Road’. I remembered that I had also posed besides the Penny Lane sign post not too long ago while in Liverpool.

We took the Tube back from St. John’s Wood and I finally had the chance to unpack my backpack after our return from Rome and Istanbul, sort out laundry items, get our bedroom in order and then go out shopping to the Leather Lane street market to buy some fresh fruit and veg for salad as I felt as if I badly needed to eat some greens! Back home, Llew and I had our lunch and found our neighbors Tim and Barbara ringing our doorbell to say goodbye to us as they were leaving to spend the holiday weekend in Eastbourne and would not see Llew (who departs for the States on Easter Monday) again until July. After a short nap, I returned to my email (as I had loads of it to trawl through and several urgent messages to return–mainly from my former students in New York, most of whom want recommendations of one sort or the other).

Marilyn Rixhon had called me in the morning to confirm our dinner plans at her place for this evening, so Llew and I decided to get some rest before we left for the 5 pm service at St. Paul’s Cathedral where the Washing of the Feet and the Eucharist will be celebrated. I had called our friends Cynthia and Bishop Michael Colclough and told them that we hoped to see them at the service. About an hour later, Michael called to invite us to their place and to take on seats at the very front with their family. This gave Llew the chance to visit their place briefly at Amen Court and to meet Cynthia’s lovely boys, Edward and Aidan,again as also Michael’s step-mother Alma who had driven down from Stoke-on-Trent for the Easter weekend. We made our way together to the Cathedral where loads of visitors thronged the steps on what was a perfectly delightful spring evening. Inside, it occurred to me again, how similar St. Paul’s Cathedral is to St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome, though, undoubtedly, the latter is far more ornate. It’s not easy to compete with Bernini, is it???

It also occurred to me how similar the Catholic and Protestant doctrine and services are–indeed, the Washing of the Feet of the Apostles is the central focus of this service and, in addition, we had the sublime acoustic sounds of the choir echoing mightily around the columns and domes of this grand structure. We had prime seats at the very front center and in an hour and a quarter, we were all done, having received Holy Communion and trooped out.

Because it was still too early to get on the Tube and head to Willesden Green for our dinner appointment with the Rixhons, we sat at Paul’s and whiled away some time over an almond croissant and their excellent hot chocolate. You know that a new location is starting to feel like home when you begin to have a favorite coffee shop, a favorite book store, a favorite library, etc. and I do know that Paul’s is my favorite coffee shop. Being that it is a chain in London, I do not have a particular favorite location. (In New York, Le Pain Quotidien is my favorite coffee shop chain and I wonder if there is a pattern to be discovered in the fact that both my favorites have French origins!)

We were ringing the doorbell at the Rixhons’ beautiful home at exactly 7.30 pm and then had a fabulous evening with them. Llew, who was meeting Marilyn and Phillipe for the very first time, got along famously with them and found that they had much in common, the least of which was the fact that they had all spent a considerable amount of time working and living in Dubai. Their garden was at its spring loveliest with the pear tree in bloom and as Phillipe opened a bottle of champagne and we strolled through it, the evening assumed a magical flavor. Inside, Marilyn busied herself in her magazine-quality kitchen with her matzoh ball soup as it also, coincidentally, happened to be Passover. There is a wonderfully warm and welcoming side to their personalities that instantly makes their guests feel at home and as we returned to the comfort of the dining table, I sat down to look forward to one of Marilyn’s simple but truly memorable meals. As it turned out, we had superbly baked cod with a zucchini puree served with matzoh, but the piece de resistance was the flourless cake with ground almonds and the tropical fruit salad with its hints of lime juice and zest made by their daughter that was so good I simply had to have the recipe. Indeed, it was a fine evening, characterized by friendship, fun and superb food. As we left, Marilyn actually presented us with a goodie bag–mangoes (“f0r your breakfast”, she said) that she obtained from the Indian store and a very unusual fruit called a grenadiller that I have never seen or heard of before and which I am very much looking forward to tasting.

Llew and I got home at a quarter to midnight and while Llew hit the bed after watching a spot of TV, I sat up writing this blog and fell asleep much later. Though I had felt at mid-day that we had done nothing really interesting, our evening out with the Rixhons definitely ‘saved’ our day and made it feel less wasted.

Goodbye Turkey, Return to London

Apr9

Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Istanbul-London

Last Minute Rambles in Istanbul:
We had made booking for a mini bus to pick us up at our hotel and take us to the Sabiha Gokcen airport at 10. 20 am—for 10 euros apiece. This journey would be so much easier than the one that had brought us from the airport to central Istanbul. This left us enough time to have a wonderful last breakfast in Turkey and head out to the Hippodrome and Sultanahmet Square for some last-minute strolling. Indeed, tour groups were already out in the square admiring the two obelisks that adorn it. We walked towards the shops and bought a few more sweetmeats before we returned to our hotel and boarded our mini bus.

It was interesting to go through the narrow winding streets of Sultanahmet with a skilled driver who managed to negotiate his way very effectively through them reversing expertly when necessary.

It was a lovely drive back to the airport on what was a lovely sunny day—we passed en route so many of the monuments we could recognize and had grown to admire—including the Dolmabahce Palace on the Asian side. In fact, I was quite tickled to see a signpost on the highway that said “Welcome to Asia”! Before long, we were at the airport where we checked in within minutes and waited patiently for our flight while sampling baklava and Turkish delight in the one and only duty free shop.

Arrival in London:
Our flight arrived in London on time and by 4 pm, we had boarded a National Express coach at Gatwick airport that took us directly to Victoria on a beautiful spring day in London. We had enough time to take the Tube home to Holborn, stash away our things and head straight for the National Theater where I had booked tickets to see Wole Soyinka’s award-winning play entitled Death and the King’s Horseman in the Olivier Theater. We had grabbed soups at the EAT eatery on the South Bank of the Thames as soon as we got there (having taken a Waterloo-bound bus from across our building).

I was excited as this was the first time I was visiting the National Theater—I have never managed to get tickets to any of the plays before this. The play was packed with well-dressed theater-lovers as Llew and I made our way upstairs and found our seats. For the next couple of hours, we were transported to Nigeria where we watched Yoruba rituals unfold even as they were being suppressed by the colonial British government. It was a drama that included music, song and dance as well as the wonderful poetic prose of Soyinka. Needless to say, it had a stirring unexpected end and I was very glad that we had chosen to see this play despite the fact that we had just returned from a long global holiday!

Back on the bus, we found our way to Holborn where we slept the sleep of the dead as we were world-weary from all our travels.

Obama Fever in Istanbul–Dolmache Palace and Hagia Sofia

Apr9

Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Istanbul, Turkey

A Presidential Visit Disrupts our Sightseeing Plans:
After another huge breakfast on the sea-facing terrace of Deniz Konark Hotel in which we slept very well last night, we set out to discover the Ayasofya—once a Byzantine church, then a mosque and now a museum. Only, we discovered, to our utter disappointment, that the entire area surrounding Sultanahmet Square had been shut down as President Barrack Obama was touring the area that morning in his intention to meet with senior leaders of Turkey’s Islamic community and students at the university. While proud of the fact that our new President was remaining true to his agenda of making peace with the Islamic world after the horrid chasms that had engulfed our world during the Bush years, I was disappointed that he chose the very week we were in Istanbul to plan his visit as we had only limited time at our disposal and wanted to cover the city’s main sights.

Since the tram station at Sultanahmet was shut, we began walking around the Ayasofya hoping to reach the Archaeological Museum which we had learned yesterday would remain open. However, on arriving at the access point to the museum, we found the entire area barricaded by armed foot police. Unable to reach the museum, we had to made sudden changes in plan and decided to visit the Dolmabahce Palace which was far away from all the political action of Sultanahmet Square. Since we were told that Ayasofya would remain closed all day, we had no choice but to plan to see it tomorrow early in the morning just before our departure for the airport. We knew we would be cutting it fine but there was no way we could leave Istanbul without seeing the famous Ayasofya Museum!

It was with some difficulty, mainly linguistic ones, that we understood that we could take a local train that ran along the waterfront past the old stone walls of the city that was then called Byzantium to the last stop called Sirkeci. However, when we arrived there, we found that the Sirkeci tram station was closed too. We were instructed to walk through busy streets lined with shops to the Eminonu waterfront and take a metro from there to Kalabas from where the Palace was only a short ten minute walk away! All along the route, both Llew and I felt as if we were back home on the Indian sub-continent. Indeed so many parts of the city were so reminsicent of Bombay to me and Karachi to Llew that we thought we were transported back in tome to our childhood years! It was all rather uncanny and we wondered what it is about the environment of the East that so blots out national borders and makes locations merge in our memories.

Needless to say, we took a lemon and made lemonade for these rather unexpected detours took us into nooks and crannies of Istanbul that were never on our agenda. Indeed, upon arriving at the Eminonu waterfront, I realized that we were very close to the Rustam Pasa Mosque which a British fellow-traveler at our hotel that told us that morning was his wife’s favorite mosque in Istanbul. It was irresistible to me and I suggested to Llew that we should try to see it. This meant walking very close by the Spice Bazaar with its gunny sacks full of ground and whole spices that presented marvelously indigenous sights.

Inside the Rustam Pasa Mosque:
The Rustam Pasa Mosque is approached by a rather novel entry—past a courtyard filled with friendly vendors. You climb a staircase and find yourself at the entrance where you take your shoes off and enter one of the most exquisite Islamic interiors with amazingly beautiful Iznik tile work and evocative mood lighting. Indeed, we found the space quite enchanting and were very glad we made the effort to see it. Best of all, we had a chance to see the local Turks go about their daily routines—praying, shopping, sipping tea in the bazaars, bustling about as they went from one location to the next.

On to the Asian Side of Istanbul:
It was with some difficulty that we found the metro station that allowed us to cross the Golden Horn and take us to the Asian part of Istanbul. For truly, Istanbul is the bridge between the Western and Eastern hemispheres, between Europe on the one hand and Asia on the other. The Dolmabahce Place lies in the Asian side of the city and in the metro we were carried deep into its heart until we arrived at the last stop called Kalabas where we hopped out. On asking for directions, we started our short walk to the palace passing the Dolmabahce Mosque en route.

Llew kept hoping that after all the time, trouble and expense we had undertaken to get to the Palace it was not closed as well. So, it was with some relief that we discovered visitors hurrying to and from it—a clear indication that it was, in fact, open. On arriving at the Palace Gates, we paid our entry fee of 16 lira (I chose not to pay extra to take my camera inside as I was running short of memory card space anyway) and joined a guided tour in English that was scheduled to begin in just a few minutes.

Exploring the Dolmabahce Palace:
The walk to the main doors of the palace took us past the most beautifully landscaped gardens that were a rainbow of early spring colors in the multitude of primroses and tulips that were everywhere. A beautiful swan fountain was the centerpiece of these formal gardens and it created a lovely setting that reminded both Llew and me of the Saheliyon Ki Bari Gardens in Jaipur, India, that we had seen last year.

Then, we were joining a vast throng of people who awaited the introduction to the Palace by a very pretty Turkish guide who took us through the paces and informed us that the palace was built in 1856 by Sultan Abdul Mecit when the Ottoman Empire was in its declining years—a fact belied by the grandeur and opulence of the palace and its décor. Three successive sultans lived in the palace which also served as a place in which Mustapha Kemal Pasha known as Attaturk, founder of the moder nRepublic of Turkey, breathed his last. In fact, all the clocks in the place are stopped at 9.05 am, the exact moment of his death.

Nothing I could say to describe the palace would ever possibly do it justice for the interior truly beggars description. It is one of the most ostentatious royal spaces I have ever seen and some might, cynically, even describe it as OTT (Over The Top). All I can say is that Buckingham Palace which Llew and I had visited many years ago when it was first opened to visitors quite pales into insignificance besides the lavish accoutrements of this place which actually contains a winding dual crystal staircase made of sparkling Baccarat crystal. The palace has a stupendous collection of English and Czechoslovakian crystal chandeliers that throw wonderful pools of light over the entire collections of art works and antiques with which each room is filled. These state room not only housed the private apartments of the rulers (who certainly knew a thing or two about living in luxury) but served as banqueting halls and reception rooms for visiting heads of state.

Among the highlights of the Palace were the Red Room where the sultan met his guests, the private reception rooms that form a part of the harem (in which, the guide informed me when I asked, that there were about 150 girls), the Rose colored Salon , the spectacular alabaster bathroom fully carved and superbly fitted. It was very difficult for my eye to find a single focal point in any of these rooms that were decorated in purely Western Victorian style with its emphasis on excess. In fact, far from believing that Less is More, these decorators believed that More was never ever Enough! Ever so frequently, from the many little windows that were sprinkled around the rooms to let in light and air, we caught marvelous glimpses of the glittering Bosphorus and the many boats that plied its waters carrying people and cargo from the European to the Asian worlds! This was all very evocative indeed and I realized that a vast part of the appeal of this royal palace is its unique location for which other palace in the world can boast the fact that it bridges two continents?

We finally arrived at the piece de resistance of the palace, the Ceremonial Hall which contains the palace’s largest crystal chandelier, a monumental piece that hangs almost to the floor and spreads its radius wide along the ceiling. While we were admiring the interior and taking in the sight of the magnificent domed ceiling, the guide gave us what I am sure she knew would be the most surprisingly piece of information—the ceiling was not domed at all! In fact, it is flat as a pancake and it is only by the brilliant use of trompe l’oeil painting that it appears to be concave! Truly a masterpiece of decorative painting, we simply could not fathom how that effect was created so convincingly to fool the eye. In fact, even the DK Eye Witness Guide to Turkey describes the Ceremonial Hall as having a domed ceiling!

It was about 2pm when we left the palace precincts and walked to the tram stop at Kalabas to return to Sultanahmet Square. We discovered, by this point, that the trams had started running normally and we hoped very much that we would still be able to return to the Archaeological Museum. Our journey took about half an hour and since our big breakfast still kept us going, we decided to forego lunch, nibbling instead on the biscuits I had carried for snacking.

Upon getting off at Sultanahmet, we saw, to our enormous surprise, a line outside the Ayasofya Museum and we were delighted to discover that the museum had been reopened—which probably mean that Obama’s visit had ended. Indeed, by the time we bought ourselves roasted corn cobs that we sat on a bench and ate with enjoyment, Obama was probably already on his surprise flight to meet the American troops in Iraq.

Inside the Ayasofya—finally!
This allowed us to join the line to purchase tickets to the museum (10 liras each) and within no time at all, we were entering the ancient building that has stood on this site for over a millennium! Indeed, the Church of the Holy Wisdom (Hagia Sofia in Greek and Sancta Sofiya in Latin) was inaugurated by Emperor Justinian in 537 AD. The Christian iconography seen inside in the form of glittering golden mosaics portraying Christ, the Madonna and a bevy of saints, all date from these Roman-Byzantine times. They were plastered when the church was taken over by the Islamic Caliphs and turned into a mosque under the Ottomans in the 15th century. Fortunately, they did not destroy these ancient mosaics…they only plastered over them. Recent attempts to scrape off this plaster has resulted in the unearthing of remnants of the mosaics some of which are so beautifully executed that they quite took my breath away.

What is most striking about Ayasofya, however, are the vast dimensions of the space. This strikes the visitor right away upon first entry. The walls and domed ceiling stretch out majestically overhead towering above for what seems eternity. The 15th century additions of giant calligraphic rondels that portray the names of Prophet Mohamed, his two nephews and the various caliphs of the time were fascinating especially as I have never seen anything quite like these anywhere else.

On encircling the interior of the church, we took in the main artistic and architectural features of the place that is now a museum—not used for worship of any kind. In fact, it is a completely secular place of archaeological interest alone. We saw the Loge of the Sultan (a grilled space created by marble jalis or screens that allowed him to pray without being seen), the Mihrab that faces Mecca, the minber from which the priest leads the faithful in prayer, the miraculous healing pillar of St. Gregory that stands behind the giant marble urns used to store water that assisted in the ablutions that were necessary before Muslims entered the mosque, etc. The place was rather dimly lit throughout and was teeming with visitors all of whom paused frequently in deep contemplation of the features of the space—whether Christian or Islamic.

Then we were climbing up the winding pathway (not a staircase) that led to the upper floor. This seemed to go on forever, which is understandable, I suppose, when you consider the great height of the first storey. It was here that we saw the bulk of the Christian mosaics and were also able to marvel at the main floor of the mosque from another higher perspective. The effects were all very stirring indeed and we realized how fortunate we were to have been able to visit this museum today. There was just too much to see and there was no way that we could have seen and done it all on a hurried hour-long visit as we had intended to do just before boarding the mini bus that would take us to the airport tomorrow morning. Indeed the Ayasofya which I had seen in so many architectural drawings and paintings of the 20th century and which still overwhelmed me is one of the greatest buildings in the world and we could easily understand why.

Time for last-minute shopping:
With about an hour or two left before the shops closed for the day, we walked along Sultanahmet Square to buy baklava (one of my favorite Eastern desserts) and boxes of Turkish delight for Llew to take home to his colleagues in the States. They come in a variety of colors and flavors from pomegranate and other tropical fruit to varieties studded with pistachios and almonds and flavored with honey. We also had the chance to taste a few of the sample goodies in the various shops and as we walked along the busy streets, we munched on our sweet snacks.

Last Dinner at Ayasofya Restaurant:
Indeed, we remained faithful to the food offerings at Ayasofya Restaurant returning there once more to enjoy the best of Turkish cooking. This evening, we found it rather packed with tourists as its family-friendly atmosphere attracted many patrons. Over more delicious mezzes and grilled kebabs and Efes pilsner beer, we truly enjoyed our meal as much as we enjoyed gabbing with Hassan who sat with us at our table and talked about his carpet trade. It was fun to chat with a local and to get his perspective on Obama’s visit to Turkey. Overall, the Turks are delighted to host the American president whom Hassan described as a “man with a smiling face from which we can get a lot of positive energy”. He was of the opinion that “Obama will be good not just for America but for the whole world”.

It was time for us to take our leave of our new friend and return to our Deniz Konark Hotel where we spent our last night knowing that the next morning we would board a flight to return to London. Istanbul had been a fabulous experience in every sense of the word and we were so full of exotic multiple images as we fell asleep.

Treasures of Topkapi–Dazed by Ottoman Glamor.

Apr9

Monday, April 6, 2009
Istanbul, Turkey

The Glamor of Topkapi Palace:
Our first breakfast at Tashkonak Hotel was truly fit for a sultan. There was every possible food group and every kind of breakfast item available—from cereals and freshly baked bread of various kinds to a number of salad vegetables such as tomatoes and cucumbers and every conceivable kind of olive. Boiled eggs, jams and marmalades, fresh and stewed fruit were also available and it was difficult to decide what to pick from an overflowing buffet table. I enjoyed trying the various herb teas in which the Turks specialize—the apple tea, the rose hip tea and the sour cherry tea were all good. There was also strong Turkish coffee which Llew was brave enough to try. When we had eaten our fill, we left the hotel and made our way to Sultanahmet Square with the idea of seeing the opulent Topkapi Palace, made famous by the Hollywood film of the 1950’s called Topkapi (which I haven’t seen).

We followed bus loads of tourists all of whom had an early start and were wending their way to the palace gates. Despite the fact that Istanbul is inundated with tourists throughout the year, everything is very well organized and tourists are very well loved. We noticed that though hotel and store touts are everywhere, they are there to entice you to their services and not to rip you off. In fact, throughout our travels in Istanbul, we were impressed by the industriousness of the people who work hard for their money. Nowhere did we see a beggar idly begging for alms outside the mosques or in the crowded bazaars.

Exploring Topkapi Palace and its Harem:
There was a long line for tickets to Topkapi Palace and we realized that we ought to have set out earlier. When we did purchase ours, we entered the Gate of Salutations with its twin turrets and found ourselves in a magnificent garden in which spring had already arrived. Indeed, tulips in a riot of colors were everywhere and we were hard pressed to stop and linger amongst them. It was only the knowledge of the vast environs we had to cover that kept us going forward.

Just inside the courtyard was another line and we realized that we needed to purchase another ticket to get into the celebrated harem (pronounced ‘hurr-aim’ as I discovered). After we obtained those, we followed the tours groups into what was a warren of buildings, each more ornately decorated than the next with blue Iznik tiles and painted Koranic calligraphy. The sultan’s wives and concubines led a privileged if competitive life in this secluded area that was guarded by eunuchs who also had their living quarters within these walls. We learned a great deal about the protocol that governed harem life and the order and decorum that was maintained within its ranks. This tour was rather long and tiring and though the groups moved along briskly, there was always someone ahead who impeded my movement through the labyrinth.

The Pavilion of the Holy Mantle:
The next major attraction in this courtyard is the Pavilion that houses the relics of the Prophet Mohamed. I found another line snaking its way to the entrance while a much longer one could be seen on the other side of the courtyard. I suggested that Llew hold us a place in that line while I joined the one that allowed visitors to see the holy relics.

In about twenty minutes, I entered a rather dimly-lit space that contained a number of glass cases. There was a great deal of literature and historical material printed on plaques on the wall but I was already rather tired by this point and did not have the energy to read all of it. Instead I focused my attention on a handful of rare and very fascinating objects that, unbelievably, lay in close proximity to each other.

First of all, I saw the Sword of David, beautifully encased in glass. Just a few steps away was the Rod of Moses with which, the Bible tells us, he parted the waters of the Red Sea. I was so astonished by this object that I couldn’t tear my eyes away from it. Not far away were the hand and skull of St. John the Baptist encased within gilded jewel-studded reliquaries. They were described as the hand and arm of the Prophet John! Just a few steps away were the two Swords of the Prophet Mohamed. To see these symbols from three different religions (Christianity, Judaism and Islam) sitting so close to each other was deeply astonishing and I realized that it is only in staunchly secular Turkey that such a phenomenon would be possible.

Just a room away was the holiest items in this space—the cases that house the mantle once worn by the Prophet Mohamed. Though this is not on display (as, for example, the cassock of St. Anthony can be seen in Padua, Italy), it was stirring to discover that it lay inside this very ornate container. Not too far away were the Prophet’s beard, his tooth, a letter written by him and an impression of his footprint. These were gazed at rather reverentially by most of the visitors. In the room next door, a priest sat chanting verses from Islamic scripture. We also saw several locks from the Kaaba, the holy stone in Mecca around which the Haj pilgrims walk. These objects reached Istanbul as a result of the conquest of Egypt and Arabia in 1517 by Turkey’s Sultan Selim the Grim which led to his assumption of the role of Caliph (Leader of Islam).

The Imperial Treasury:
Indeed, I was deeply moved by the sight of all these objects and I hurried off to the queue which Llew had joined, only to discover that he had almost reached the front of it. I joined him there and together we began our perusal of the most eagerly viewed items in Topkapi Palace—the Imperial Treasury. All the jostling and pushing began at this point as visitors craned their necks to look ahead at the showcases that contained everything fabulous that you can ever imagine—from gold plated thrones and diamond-studded daggers to plumed turban jewelry (aigrettes) and precious stones larger than hen’s eggs! Many of these items were acquired by the Ottoman Sultans as gifts from respectful rulers all over the Islamic world but several of them were also collected by these aesthetically-inclined chieftains. Following the collapse of the Ottoman empire, they passed into the hands of the national exchequer and are now considered a part of the country’s wealth. They are all very elegantly displayed under special lighting in the spotlessly clean showcases and as the public gawked at them, the harassed guards went around forbidding photographs. The highlight—the Topkapi dagger, which, I am told, is the subject of the film Topkapi—was very well displayed in the last room that contains the Treasury.

The Public Rooms:
The Treasures of Topkapi cannot be visited in a single day—they would take much longer if one wished to linger everywhere and read all the curatorial notes contained in the many rooms that make up the palace. But we were tired and wanted a rest. As Llew went across to see the Pavilion of the Holy Mantle, I saw down on a cushioned ottoman for a rest. We did not see the pavilions housing the collection of clocks and arms and armor as we really did want to see other parts of the city.

But having seen the main highlights, we began to make our way outside the palace, passing en route the ornate Reception Rooms that formed yet another pavilion as well as the exquisite Library of Ahmed III which though now devoid of books is so superbly decorated within with blue Iznik tiles and a gilded calligraphic domed ceiling.

We also saw the ornate Circumcision Pavilion and the Fountain of Ahmed III, all of which were studded with incredibly well-carved marble basins and fountains and jalis or screens—many of which were reminiscent to me of Moghul splendour and the Islamic decorative architecture of North India. Often it was difficult for us to decide exactly where our eyes should rest—we saw domes so extravagantly painted and gilded and walls entirely covered with tiles, not to mention floors with colored pietra dura and thick Turkish area rugs. There were also a variety of lighting fixtures that gave the palace a very rich and ostentatious look that left us quite overwhelmed at every turn.

The Basilica Cistern:
It was late afternoon by this point and both Llew and I were tired and wanted to go on to see the Ayasofya Museum. But we were informed by this point that it was closed (being a Monday) and would not even be open the next day as Obama’s visit to Istanbul and his desire to see these ancient monuments meant that they would remain shut to the public for the length of his travels in Istanbul.

This left us the afternoon free to fill with doings of our desire and it was while we were weighing our alternatives that we passed by a large hoarding that announced the location of the Basilica Cistern. Now I had read about this very unique feature in our guidebook and I told Llew that we ought to see it. We followed the signs to the very unassuming entrance to the cistern where we paid the 10 Turkish lira that allowed us to enter the place via the stairs that led us deep underground.

Once inside, we could only gasp in astonishment. For there, before us, stood a vast cavern that was completely filled with towering Roman columns in Ionic and Corinthian styles. We learned that this was indeed built by the Roman Emperor Justinian in 532 AD in order to supply water to the great palace. When the Roman Empire was dissolved, all knowledge of the underground cistern seems to have dissolved with it, for the Ottoman sultans did not know anything about its existence. It was only in recent years when the Turkish government became aware that people were able to get water and even fish in their own homes by letting buckets down through holes in their basement that investigations were carried out and the marvelous cistern was re-discovered! It makes a most unusual tourist attraction indeed and one that we could not stop exclaiming over.

Visitors tread their way to the extreme end of the cistern along specially constructed walkways in a very dimly lit space. All around the flooded cistern are fish of varying size swimming close to the visitors which made for a rather unique sight. At the very end, arrived at by following signs that say ‘Medusa’, you reach two columns that stand out from the rest—they feature the head of the Roman mythological figure called the Medusa who had snakes for hair. They seem to suggest evidence of plundering by the earliest Byzantines. At any rate, they are a very strange sight indeed in this very strange space.

A Street side Lunch of Doner Kebab—Turkey’s Gift to the World:
Of course, we could not leave Turkey without eating a genuine doner kebab in Istanbul and when we found small street-side eateries serving them right off the hook with wonderfully mouthwatering fruit juices as well, we had to try one. These casual eateries are very reasonably priced and offer great value for money. Perfect for a light lunch, they are usually crowded with tourists and locals alike. Llew ordered a lamb kebab and I chose a chicken one—which allowed us to share them and get a taste of both. With the fresh pomegranate juice I ordered and saw extracted right before my eyes and the grapefruit juice that Llew ordered, it made a meal fit for a sultan and we truly did it justice. Thus fortified, we were able to continue on our sightseeing way along the streets that led to the famous bazzars.

A Visit to the Grand Bazaar:
Our next stop was the Grand Bazaar, one of the world’s oldest indoor markets dating back 1400 years and holding over 4500 shops in its vast environs. Indeed time seems to have stood still in this cavernous space where shops selling every variety of human need and want can be found. Perfectly organized into four sections, one can purchase, Turkish carpets, antiques, souvenirs and other fashion needs in its four sections. It was not long before Llew and I were accosted by a tout wishing to sell us a carpet. It was difficult but amusing to try to brush him off. We finally gave up and walked with him to his shop where we took his business card and promised to return if we were in the market for carpets—which we were not!

I was in the market primarily to buy something I have wanted to travel to Turkey to buy for a very long time—an authentic brass coffee grinder. I have watched The Frugal Gourmet on TV in America for many years using this giant pepper grinder and on hearing him say that he had bought it in Turkey, I decided that if ever I was in Turkey I would buy myself one. However, its weight made Llew ask me to reconsider the purchase and buy a real brass pepper grinder instead. This I did buy for 10 lira, but I could not get the coffee grinder out of my mind. A few shops went by before I spied just the one I wanted. Though the antique grinders go for upwards of 250 lira, I found one for 15 lira not in the Grand Bazaar but later, in a household store, where the brass sparkled and the coffee grinder did look as if it would actually work.
I did also buy a few trinkets from the market—navy blue ‘evil eye’ bracelets for Chriselle and myself in glass for just five euros each (Turkey trades in both euros and lira) and then, having trudged through so many miles that day, I was ready for a nice glass of Turkish tea served with a little porcelain saucer in its base and a lump of sugar alongside—how very civilized! Even if one is not actually looking to make major purchases, strolling through the Grand Bazaar is an exotic experience in itself.

Visit to the Sulaimanye Mosque:
Then, with a steady rain falling upon us and not having an umbrella, we walked under the awnings of the various shops to try to find our way to Sulaimanye Mosque, one of the city’s largest. This was built by Sultan Sulaiman’s favorite architect Sinan who has left his mark on many of the most important monuments in Istanbul.

I was very sorry to discover that our long and rather wet trek up a hill was a bit of a wild goose chase as most of the mosque is closed to visitors being under renovation. What we were able to enter to see was a tiny portion of one of the side corridors and we did take in the blue tile work on the walls and the calligraphy that marched up to the towering ceiling. When we did walk outside to see the tombs of Suleiman and his favorite Russian wife Roxelana, we discovered that they had just closed to visitors as well. Still, the outside of these structures is quite unbelievably beguiling and we realized that Turkish mosques have a very distinctive design, somewhat different from the Moghul mosques in India and the Moorish ones in Spain. The grey stone on the outer walls gives them a uniquely ‘Arabian Nights’ kind of quality and the minarets add to the grandeur of the structure.

Another dinner at Ayasofya Restaurant:
Being quite exhausted by this point, we got into a rather crowded tram (Llew having figured out how the ticketing worked) and reached Sultanahmet where we picked our way to the Ayasofya Restaurant for another dinner. There, we got talking to the proprietor named Hassan who also moonlights as a carpet trader on E-Bay! He ended up recruiting me as a proofreader to correct the grammar and spelling on a letter he had just drafted to one of his clients in England (on his laptop) after Llew announced to him that I was a professor of English! By the end of our short visit to Istanbul, we became friends with Hassan and with the other wait staff at the restaurant who always greeted us warmly and made certain they met our every need.

Hello Istanbul! Arrival in Turkey.

Apr9

Sunday, April 5, 2009
Istanbul, Turkey

Arrival in Istanbul:
Our Easyjet flight left Gatwick airport at 6. 40 am and deposited us at Istanbul’s Sabiha Gokcen airport at 12. 30 pm local time. It had been a very pleasant flight indeed during which time I read my DK Eye-Witness Guide to Turkey with the idea of trying to figure out how to plan our three days in the city. The descent into Istanbul was particularly lovely and as we skirted the banks of the Bosphorus, I was grateful for my window seat and the glimpses it offered of the landscape that lay bathed in strong sunshine. The city was punctuated by the domes and minarets of countless mosques and the colors of the buildings were very similar to the palate of yellows and orche that we had seen in Italy.

To our horror, we discovered that we were required to stand in a long line at the airport to obtain visas for which we paid $20 a piece. I found this surprising as no one had prepared us for this occurrence. About an hour later, we cleared Immigration and found ourselves in a small and rather quiet airport. The journey to the city was rather complicated as Easyjet (like most budget airlines) flies to an airport very far from the city proper. We entered the Havas bus that took us as far as Taksim Square from where we took a public bus to the terminal in Sultanahmet where our hotel, the Sultan’s Inn, was located.

Only there was a mess up with our booking and there was no room for us at this hotel. However, the kindly receptionist placed us for one night in a neighboring hotel called Tashkonak and for the next two nights we were placed in Deniz Konark Hotel, which was also near by. Everyone was helpful and good natured and when we alighted from the car that took us and our belongings to Tashkonak Hotel, we were very pleased with the top floor and the sight from our window which provided a lovely view of the Sea of Marmara and the Princess Islands floating in their midst. We discovered that the hotel had a flower-filled terrace right above our room and we did climb upstairs only to notice the domes and many minarets of the Blue Mosque staring back at us only a stone’s throw away. What a brilliant location the hotel had!

Exploring the area around the Famous Blue Mosque:
Since it was still only about 4 pm, we decided to spend the evening discovering our vicinity and found to our delight that we were very conveniently located with regards to the main tourist attractions. Indeed, the Blue Mosque was so close to us that we could hear the muezzin’s call as azan began and, deciding to stroll through the nearby Arasta Bazaar, we stepped into the mosque later in the evening.

Arasta Bazaar offered a variety of wonderfully enticing merchandise from Turkish carpets and kilims to vibrantly colored ceramic items, from desserts like baklava and Turkish delight to skillfully carved bone pipes and cushion covers. Truly, Turkey is a shopper’s dream but neither Llew nor I were in the market for any goods to take back home.

Instead, we toured the area around the Hippodrome, so-called because cycling events as well as athletic contests were once held in this area. Once in the region, our attention was drawn to two towering obelisks, one with very distinct Egyptian hieroglyphs carved upon it, the other a plainer tower—both dated from centuries long gone. There was also a rather ornate fountain that was named after Kaiser Wilhem II. The Hipppodrome lies at the very heart of Sultanahmet which is Istanbul’s busiest neighborhood and for the next three days, we were, quite literally, in the thick of everything (including President Obama’s visit to Turkey!).

By this point, we discovered that the namaaz period had ended and we were able to enter the Blue Mosque. As in most places of worship, we were asked to take off our shoes and place them in a bag, which we were allowed to carry into the mosque. The space is huge and quite overwhelming indeed. Inside, we were introduced to the intricacy and artistry of what are called Iznik tiles—ceramic tiles in distinctive shades and patterns of blue that are used liberally to decorate the surfaces of walls on all Turkish structures.

Though community prayer time was over, there were still many worshippers in the front of the mosque, their faces turned towards the decorative mihrab that faces Mecca. We also saw the ornate minber or platform from which the priest leads prayers. The entire floor of the mosque was covered with rich Turkish carpets and aside from the tiles, there was calligraphy from the Koran painted all over the mosque. It made a very interesting beginning to our sightseeing in Istanbul but we soon realized that if being in Rome had meant traipsing from one church to the next, being in Istanbul means traipsing from one mosque to the other. As in the churches, while most architectural elements were basically the same, there were minor differences that made each one worthy of a visit.

Our first Turkish Meal:
We were ready for dinner at this point and since the very helpful young man called Ramazan at the hotel had recommended a restaurant nearby called the Ayasofya, we made our way there and sat down in a quiet alcove upstairs where we were very warmly greeted by the owner called Hassan and the wait staff. We decided that for our first Turkish meal, we would order a mixed plate of appetizers (mezze) and a mixed grill…and how pleased we were by the quality of the meal and its very reasonable price.

The mezze platter contains a variety of dips and pastes that are eaten with the most marvelous large flatbread. The mixed grill platter was equally hearty and easily shared by two. It contained a variety of kebabs from grilled lamb botis (chunks) and chicken wings to shish kebab and marinated chicken breast, all served with that delicous charcoal grilled flavor. Served with tzaziki (cucumber garlic dip) and pickled red cabbage, it was a truly wonderful meal and one we decided to return for again before our departure.

Then, we were picking our way back to our hotel again after warmly thanking the staff for taking such good care of us and presenting us with such memorable food. A short walk later, we were in Hotel Tashkonak amazed by how much we had already seen and done in Istabul.

Arrivederci Roma! Last Day in Italy.

Apr9

Saturday, April 4, 2009
Rome-London

The Church of Santa Maria Maggiore:
We chose to spend our last day in Rome in a very leisurely fashion. Having ‘been there, done that’, we had a day to enjoy without the pressures of a Must See schedule. There were still two churches I really badly wanted to see, though they are not usually on anyone’s priority list: one was the Church of Santa Maria Maggiore which is distinctive for the fact that it took over a century to build and, therefore, displays several different architectural styles; the other was the Church of St. Peter in Vincoli. Since it was very far from our hotel, we took the metro from the Spanish Steps—which gave us a chance to experience Rome’s underground system—to Termini, the main train station, from where the church was a short hop away. Indeed, we found the interior quite stunning and as we encircled the huge nave and paused at the many chapels, each of which is more ornate than the next, we were able to get a glimpse into the diverse styles of which it is composed.

The Church of San Pietro in Vincoli:
Then, we were out on the street and making our way to the next church I wanted to see: The Church of Saint Peter in Vincoli (which literally means St. Peter in Chains). This church is remarkable for two reasons: it contains one of Michelangelo’s most stunning works—his Moses which is considered to be on par with his far more celebrated David in terms of artistic virtuosity—and to see the chains (‘vincoli’ in Italian) that bound St. Peter during his imprisonment. Raphael’s depiction of Peter’s liberation from these chains through the miraculous power of an angel that visited his prison at night is considered one of the most notable frescoes in the Vatican Museums (we had seen it on our tour).

We were surprised by the large number of tour groups that trooped into this church to see Moses, though few paid any heed to the chains that are placed just below the main altar in a special glass receptacle designed specifically to hold them. They are said to have arrived in Rome through the Emperor Constantine who received them from his mother Helena. Indeed, the sculpture of Moses is as stunning as it is reputed to be. It is amazing how obsessed Michelangelo was with the muscularity of the human physique. For though Moses is portrayed as an old man with flowing beard that forms lavish curls, there is no mistaking the bulging biceps that would be impossible in a man of so advanced an age! This idealistic portrayal of human males is seen also on the walls of the Sistine Chapel where the muscularity of Jesus in the Last Judgment created a new watermark for the portrayal of His human form. Moses sits on the base of what was intended to be a lavish monument to a Pope (I forget which one) but before Michelangelo could quite finish the tomb, he was summoned to work on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, leaving this job half-done.

Arriving at Trastevere:
It was at this point that our journey became rather convoluted. We got on to the metro at Cavour and intended to arrive in Trastavere, a very colorful part of Rome, far from the madding tourist crowd but filled with urban energy. It lies on the opposite bank of the River Tiber but is not easily reached by metro. It was my aim to get off the metro and take a bus to Trastavere, but some disturbance on the line caused by a huge football match made it impossible for us to arrive there without a great deal of waiting. Eventually, we hopped into a bus that took us close to Isola, an island that sits in the midst of the Tiber and can be reached by pedestrian bridges on both its sides. Sometimes, such unexpected detours can lead one to the most interesting quarters of a city and this certainly was the case here. We really did enjoy our lazy stroll down the riverbanks and the lovely views across the city as we crossed the bridges leading to and from Isola.

The Church of Santa Maria in Trastavere:
Once on the opposite side, we began our walk towards Ponte Garibaldi with the intention of exploring Trastavere on foot. This area is a maze of narrow cobbled streets, almost deserted, but with a great deal of character. Our purpose was to get to the Church of Santa Maria in Trastavere (yes, yet another church!) where the piazza is usually bussing with visitors. As we approached the church square, we paused to look at the menus in the many trattorias that lined the streets. Once in the church, we visited its interior and noticed the extravagance of its decoration. By this point, however, one church had begun to resemble the one before it and we became almost immune to its interior charms.

Upon leaving the church, we rambled at random through the labyrinth of streets each filled with homely eateries and were delighted to come upon a pizzeria called La Boccaccia Pizza e Focaccia on Via Santa Dorothea 2 where we ordered a variety of pizzas cut by the wedge and weighed before being priced. The pizzas were very unusual indeed—such as a goat cheese and basil one, another with zucchini and tomato and a third with sausage and peppers. Washed down with a cold beer, they made a very nice shared meal which we ate while seated outside on a bench on what was a particularly lovely afternoon in which people walked or drove by the narrow streets with happy smiles upon their faces. Just next-door was a wonderful gelateria on Piazza G. La Malva where we ate two gigantic ice creams—our last in Italy—and felt very pleased with our street side meal indeed.

Before long, we were crossing the Tiber along the Ponte Sisto and arriving at the opposite side from where we hopped into a bus that took us back to our hotel past most of the famous monuments that we had examined in the previous few days.

We collected our bags from the lobby of our hotel (we had checked out in the morning) and caught a bus to the Termini from where we hopped into the Leonardo da Vinci Express that took us directly to Fiumicino airport for our 9 pm departure to Gatwick airport where we arrived at half past ten at night. Since we had another early morning departure from Gatwick to Istanbul, we had made reservations to spend the night at the Ibis hotel located very close to the airport and hopping into the hotels’ shuttle mini-bus, we were deposited at the hotel a little after 11.30 pm. This gave us several good hours of sleep and with a request for a wake up call at 4. 30 am, we fell asleep.

Footloose in Roma!

Apr9

Friday, April 3, 2009
Rome

There is simply too much to see in Rome and if you are addicted to churches or museums, as I am, you have to make certain choices. So, after another big breakfast in our hotel, we set out to view some of the sights that literature has made famous through the centuries, starting with the Spanish Steps.

Picking our way down the Via de Condotti:
On checking my map, I discovered that the Piazza de Spagna stands at the end of one of Rome’s most famous streets—the fashionable Via de Condotti which is the equivalent of New York’s Fifth Avenue in that it houses the showrooms of the country’s best-known couturiers. I picked our way across the map to the famous street and made the discovery that the shops get more expensive and the designer names more famous the closer you get to the steps. We stopped en route to see some of the goodies being offered by Furla and Valentino and Salvatore Ferragamo and marveled all the while at the fact that Italy seemed recession-proof as most of the locals were walking jauntily along the street, their hands laden with bags that announced their pricey buys.

The Spanish Steps and the Church of Trinita del Monti:
We spied the Spanish Steps long before we arrived there as the spires of the Church of Trinita del Monti, being located high on a hill, are easily visible all along the Condotti. As always, the Steps were filled with student groups and morning strollers with their dogs in tow soaking in the sun (for it had turned out to be a beautiful day). Unlike most of his ornate fountain sculpture that adorns the city of Rome and gives it a distinctive character, the little boat-like sculpture in front of the steps are Bernini’s most modest. It does, in fact, portray a sunken boat and lacks the opulent characters that decorate the rest of his work. After Llew and I had posed for pictures, we began our climb up the steps to see the church and receive stirring glimpses of the city of Rome lying in ochre splendor at our feet. The church contains several paintings and sculptural works but this was one place in Rome that was not soundly mobbed and I have to say that for a moment, at least, I enjoyed the seclusion.

Then, when we had descended the steps, we began our perusal of the Piazza de Spagna taking in the Babbington Tea Rooms which were set up in the 19th century for visiting Englishmen and women who, on their Grand Tour of Europe had passed through Rome and felt homesick for the English tea and clotted cream-filled scones of the Home Counties. The atmosphere inside (yes, we did peek in briefly) was warm and cozy like the cups of tea being sipped delicately by the well-heeled patrons.

The Keats-Shelley Memorial House:
Next, we walked to the opposite side of the Steps (still teeming with joyous humanity) to the Keats-Shelley Memorial House, which, for me at least, was like making a pilgrimage. Ever since I was first introduced to his work as an undergraduate in Bombay, John Keats has remained my very favorite poet of all time and on every occasion I try to trace the footsteps of his life. I have, for instance, been to his famous house in Hampstead where he wrote Ode to a Nightingale. And anyone who knows anything about the sad end of Keats’ life knows that because he was afflicted with tuberculosis, he made his way to Italy to escape the cold damp of the English winter, to arrive in Rome with which he fell fully in love. His diary jotting records his rapturous response to the city as seen from the windows of this house that overlooks the Spanish Steps and the piazza beyond. However, despite his sojourn in warmer climes, he barely outlasted that winter. By the following spring, he was too weak to even sit at the window and it was in a bedroom in this house that he breathed his last—at the tender age of 26—perhaps English Poetry’s greatest loss of all time.

Llew and I climbed the marble winding steps with its beautiful wrought iron curving handrail to the top, passing all the time, a number of framed portraits of famous literary men and women who have either made Rome their home for a while or have visited this house upon being inspired by the spirit of Keats and Shelley. When we arrived at the reception desk, a lovely young lady named Josie introduced the home to us and sold us a ticket for 6 euros each. Then began our thoughtful and very quiet perusal of the rooms that make us Keats’ last home—a home crammed with all sorts of memorabilia including bits and pieces of manuscripts of his famous odes, a multitude of sepia-toned photographs, any amount of fragments of letters he wrote and received (for Keats was a prolific letter writer) as well as the poet’s hair and other relics from a short but profoundly productive life.

One can see the bedroom that Keats occupied and in which he breathed his last. Though fully created to replicate the way in which he lived and died, every item in the room is a replacement as the entire contents of the bedroom were burned after his death in accordance with Italian law which decreed that since tuberculosis was spread by contact with the patient (a fallacy, of course), everything that had come in contact with him was destroyed by fire. In vain did Keats’ friends try to salvage some of the personal items associated with his last days. To read the notes was to be deeply moved and I was close to tears as I took in the room, peered out into the sun-soaked piazza to survey the view he once so enjoyed and contemplated the legacy he left behind—a wealth of some of my favorite poems.

The room on the other side of the house is devoted to Shelley and the other Romantics as Shelley and Keats were close friends and the former did provide Keats with companionship in his last weeks. It was not long before Shelley followed Keats to his death, drowning as he did in a shipwreck off the coast of Italy. The two are buried side by side in Rome’s Protestant cemetery, which, unfortunately, we did not have the time to visit. However, a visit to this house should be on the must-see agenda of every lover of English Literature and I was so grateful that I had the opportunity to visit it.

The Piazza Barberini:
 Then, it was time to tear ourselves away from the Spanish Steps and pick our way towards the Piazza Barberini. Our excellent map of Rome made such sightseeing very easy and by the time we arrived at the Piazza made famous by Bernini’s wonderful sculptural fountain of Triton who blows a conch-shell from which water flows abundantly, we were ready for lunch. After we took in the frenzy of the traffic as it sped around the piazza and spied the endless grand windows of the Villa Barberini (so-called because it was built by a member of the Barberini family who eventually became the Pope and thought it prudent to use his position to build a grand mansion for his family-members—a bit like Pakistan’s politicians, what?) we settled down in a street-side trattoria called Pepy’s Bar whose cocktails are well-known and ordered (no, not a cocktail) but a couple of paninis and a cold beer. There is no better spot from which to do some serious people watching than this eatery that spills out on to the pavement and offers wonderful views of the passing city. Our feet felt well rested by the time we stood up to continue our exploration of the sprawling city of Rome.

Along the Via Veneto:
Using the lovely DK Eye-Witness Guide to Rome, I decided that we would walk along the Via Veneto taking one of the marvelous walking tours that loops around the area. But not before we climbed up a short hill to see Bernini’s Fountains of the Four Seasons that stand at the four corners of a busy intersection, each one representing a different season by the portrayals of an appropriate Roman god or goddess.

Then, we began our tour of the area taking in the streets made famous by Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck in Roman Holiday, for it was along these streets that they had whizzed by in that famous Vespa. An exploration of the area requires a slow climb up a winding hill that allowed us to view the grand buildings and the grander shops that made the area so fashionable and so photographed—as in the films of Frederico Fellini, for instance. The US Consulate is in this area but though we tried to spy the star-spangled banner, we were unable to find it.

The Church of Santa Maria della Vittoria:
 But coursing through the network of streets, all beautifully laid out and maintained and giving Rome its unique character, we arrived at the Church of Santa Maria della Vittoria that I was particularly keen to see as it contains the somewhat infamous sculpture by Bernini that depicts The Ecstasy of Saint Teresa. Llew and I had watched Simon Schama’s series on the History of Art on TV, a couple of years ago, and had remembered his commentary upon this sculpture which is Bernini’s most controversial and it was for this reason that I decided that we should not leave Rome without discovering it for ourselves.

Upon arrival at the church steps, we discovered that it was closed in the siesta hours that commonly shut down Italian churches. This gave us the opportunity to rest our legs as we sank down on the steps and waited. In about 20 minutes, we joined the large number of fellow art-lovers who made their way inside the church for precisely the same reason.

And there was the little chapel on the left side of the altar, Bernini’s most controversial work. It is spell-bindingly beautiful. The angel who stands on her left with an arrow in his hand ready to plunge it again into her breast matches the depiction of Saint Teresa as an idealistically gorgeous young woman. Teresa’s expression is what causes all the controversy as generations of scholars have commented upon the sexual nature of the expression—far from being bathed in mystical ecstasy, she seems to appear to be in the throes of sexual passion. What is even more provocative (at least to my imagination) is the fact that her experience is being viewed from two balconies on either side of the chapel in which a bunch of men look upon the scene as if at a play or an opera! I do not recall Schama talking about this aspect of the scene but it is the one I found most note-worthy. After taking pictures (the entire chapel is very well-lit), we left the church and found our way to the Piazza della Republica which is a large circle dominated by a rather ugly fountain whose sculptural figures are badly in need of a cleaning. The fountain parapet afforded an opportunity for more rest and people watching and we did just that.

The Church of Santa Maria degli Angeli:
Then because the doors to the Church of Santa Maria degli Angeli stood temptingly in front of us, we thought of exploring it—only to discover that it was designed by Michelangelo himself but has been largely reconstructed since his time. As we have often found, Italian churches are hugely deceptive because their entrances belie the majesty and greatness that lie within. Upon entering this church, we walked into an impressive rotunda and a spacious nave whose walls, floors and altars were filled with sculpture, pietra dura (marble inlay) everywhere and an abundance of frescoes.

And then because we were just a hop away from the huge central railway terminus called Termini, we decided to take a look at it tool. This was the station through which I had made my entry into Rome during my graduate school days while traveling on a Eurail pass, 22 years ago, and I recall eating one of the most delicious minestrone soups in its cafeteria! (Some things are hard for a foodie to forget!) This time, we found the station full of touts and hangers-on and after a quick stroll through its lobby, we hopped into the bus that would take us back to our hotel—but not before we stopped at a supermercati to buy some Lavazza coffee to carry back to London (as I have grown addicted to it) and some large packets of Baci chocolate!

Dinner at La Francescana:
That evening, we had our meal at La Francescana, a very family-friendly trattoria that lay very close to our hotel and which was recommended by the receptionist. We enjoyed a pitcher of Chianti and then Veal and a plate of pasta both of which were superb. Since we always fill up on the lovely Italian bread that is brought to the table (lovely dipped in olive oil and balsamic vinegar), we were too full for dessert and on a rather stuffed note, we returned to our hotel for the night—so pleased that we had traversed some of Rome’s lesser-known parts and had fully enjoyed our travels.

Treaures of the Vatican Museum and Attending the Pope’s Mass at the Vatican.

Apr9

Thursday, April 2, 2009
Rome

The Vatican Museum:
I had been looking forward to this day in Rome for a very long while. This was the day I had devoted to a perusal of the Vatican Museums and after fortifying ourselves with a good breakfast at our hotel, we set out to the entrance of the museum on what turned out to be a fabulous day, weather-wise. As we drew closer to the museum, the crowds thickened until all roads led to the main entrance. Once there, we saw a serpentine line and our hearts sank. Were all these folks waiting for tickets? Well, they were, but we weren’t required to join the queue as I had the good sense to make online reservations and all we had to do was waltz up to the counter and pick up our tickets with the appropriate identification.

And so by 10. 15 am, we began our marvelous forays into the treasures of the Renaissance. To our enormous good fortune, we were able to join a tour in English and in the company of an extraordinarily competent docent, we were led to the highlights of the collection where we received some deeply perceptive and very informative insights into the works. The crowds were thicker than flies on rotting meat and I have to admit that I often felt overwhelmed by them. However, I tried hard to focus on the works of art and to blot out the annoyance of jostling high school kids and the mutterings of a plethora of foreign languages all around me.

It is impossible for me to recount the wealth of information I received on this tour but here are some gems that resonate in my memory:

–the most precious marble in the world is a deep purple color. It is called porphyry and is quarried in the heart of the Egyptian desert in an area so inaccessible and inhospitable that the marble was more precious than gold in ancient times. 90% of the world’s porphyry is in the Vatican. In fact, so liberally was it used during the Renaissance that it became extinct and there is no more porphyry available anywhere in the world today! Who knew???

–the two most important pieces of marble sculpture in the Vatican Museum are the Apollo Belvedere and the Laocoon. Both were stolen by Napoleon from Italy and stayed in France until the disgraced emperor was made to return the treasures to the various museums he had looted after his military campaigns. Part of the Laocoon’s arm had remained missing for centuries and was only found early in the 20th when its exact position was ascertained–a position that had been predicted by the genius that was Michelangelo as early as the 1500’s–a prediction that had been disregarded until the finding of the arm proved it (and him) correct.

–the Raphael Tapestries, commissioned by Pope Leo X, cartoons of which are in the V&A Museum in London, are no longer in the Sistine Chapel where they were intended to be placed. They are in the long Tapestry Gallery through which visitors pass en route to the Sistine.

–so many of the characters depicted in the nude in The Last Judgment in the Sistine Chapel by Michelangelo later had clothing painted on them by his students as the nudity offended the sensibilities of contemporary visitors to the chapel.

–my very favorite character on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel is called the Delphic Sibyl. She has the most angelic face and expression and seeing the Sistine Chapel ceiling again after 22 years during which time it has been so brilliantly refurbished made me fall in love with her all over again.

–Raphael originally painted The School of Athens as a fresco in a neighboring room while Michelangelo was hard at word on his back on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. When, seven years later, his work was ready to be revealed to the public, Raphael was feverish with excitement as he could not wait to see what the master had produced. When he saw the Sistine ceiling, he was so overwhelmed that he ordered a part of The School of Athens to be plastered afresh. He then painted in the character of Michelangelo seated at the base on the steps–his small tribute to the ingenuity of the Master.

–the Swiss Guards who form the security corps for the Papal community must be: Swiss, born legitimately to two Catholic parents, under 25 and unmarried at time of recruitment, celibate for the rest of their lives.

Llew and I were so completely exhausted visually by the glories of the Renaissance as spelled out on the walls of the Vatican Museum that we were speechless for a long while after we had studied its most famous works. We were also starving and were delighted to come upon Dino and Tony’s Hosteria in the vicinity of the Vatican where we ordered pizzas and beer and chatted over all we had seen that morning.

It was about 3. 30 pm when we were done and we were sorely tempted to return to our hotel for another siesta but I was afraid to do that as the crowds of the previous day had hinted to me that it would be difficult to get seats to the Pope’s mass later than evening despite the fact that we had tickets. I suggested to Llew that we should walk to St. Peter’s Piazza to get a grip over the situation. And what a good thing we did just that!

St. Peter’s Square had a long line of people winding all around it and it was only then that we realized that the 6 pm Mass was not going to be said in the open air but inside the Basilica! And if we wanted to get anywhere inside we’d have to join the line though it was not even 4 pm. I have to admit that I almost chickened out at the prospect of having to stand in line for over two hours–not after having been on our feet for four hours already in the Vatican Museum! Well, here too, we were lucky, for somehow Llew made friends with an American man who invited us to join him in the queue rather close to its beginning and at about 4 pm when the security gates opened, we found ourselves at the very top. Within no time at all, we were seated inside the Basilica in choice seats about twelve rows from the front in the midst of an international congregation that was jabbering in every language under the sun.

A Papal Mass at the Vatican:
It was with deep excitement, then, that we took in the spectacle of St. Peter’s interior. Bernini’s genius was evident at every turn in the mortuary sculpture, the bronze baldachino or altar canopy and in the grandeur of the marble columns and inlay wherever your eye would rest. It was very comfortable indeed on the chairs in the company of the serene Swiss Guards who swarmed all around us.

At exactly 6 pm, the priestly entourage walked down the aisle with Pope Benedict XVI at the very end of the troupe. He is a stately figure, tall and very elegant and has a very pleasant and rather benevolent smile. He was roundly cheered by the congregation and I even heard a few “Viva Il Papas” around me as the Italians in the congregation greeted his arrival. Llew and I were really pleased to be part and parcel of such a unique and privileged moment when our beloved Pope JPII was remembered and prayed for by his flock who, four years after his death, have grown in affection towards him. Most enthusiastic of all were the Polish contingents who had traveled across the continent to be present on this occasion. They made their presence felt with banners and their voices raised in song.

For Llew and me, the greatest joy was to be able to listen to Holy Mass celebrated by none other than the Holy Father in the very seat of Roman Catholicism, St. Peter’s Basilica. Never in our wildest dreams did we ever think we would be in such a fortunate position on our travels and we thanked God for granting us this unique opportunity. Of all the many wonderful memories we have accumulated in our travels together around the globe, this one will remain right at the very top forever.

Then, the Mass was over and the Pope was filing out and giving us more opportunities for good photographs. Llew and I left St. Peter’s and returned to the streets of Rome where so many enthusiastic throngs were setting out in search of dinner. I was exhausted to the point of keeling over and, deciding to forgo dinner to return to our hotel where I badly needed to stretch out, we made our way home on what had been a red letter day for us.

Ciao Italia! Arrrival in Rome.

Apr9

Tuesday, March 31, 2009
London-Rome

Because, as the Chinese saying goes, a journey of a thousand miles begins with the first footstep, Llew and I left our Holborn apartment at 2. 20 am to catch the 2. 25 bus to Victoria—thank Goodness for London’s all-night red bus service that takes over when the Tube shuts down at midnight. We arrived at the Coach Station to board our 3. 30 am coach to Gatwick and were at the airport at 4. 30 am ready to check-in for our 6. 40 am Easyjet flight to Rome. With hot caffe lattes obtained from McDonald’s, we boarded our flight and as Llew snoozed across the Channel, I began to read the DK Eye Witness Guide to Rome to find out all about the ‘must-see, must-do’ items I needed to put on our list while touring this ancient city. I was excited to be returning to Rome after 22 years and to see it again with Llew for company.

All went well on board and when we touched down at Leonardo da Vinci airport at Fuimicino, I could scarcely believe that less than three hours after leaving London, we were in a completely different world. A quick hop across Immigration took us to a mini shuttle bus stand that for 15 Euros each promised to drop us off at our hotel near the Vatican called the Hotel Sant’ Angelo. It was a very sunny spring morning in Rome as we caught our first glimpses of this sprawling city from the window of our shuttle bus which dropped us off at our destination by 1 pm. After we were checked in by a very friendly receptionist called Sylvia, we stashed our bags in our room with its little French window and set off to discover the city.

The Piazza Venezia, the Roman Forum and the Coliseum:
It was thrilling to make the discovery that almost every important tourist location was just a fifteen minute walk away from our hotel that was located on the banks of the River Tiber that glowed rather greenly below the stone parapets that lined it. Using the superb graphic map that was given to us by the hotel, we wound our way along Via del Corso taking in the interesting shops and the piazzas that were thronging with tourists. Indeed, in all my travels this past year, I have never come upon so many visitors in one place and I have to say that I was frequently overwhelmed by the crowds.

It was not long before we saw the white marble opulence of the Vittorio Emmanuel Monument looming ahead of us and we spent the next few minutes studying the expansive piazza from which Mussolini made his victorious war-time speeches even as we paid our respects at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier with its eternal flame and its changing of the guard. When we had rested a bit, we started to skirt the area around this piazza and found our way to the Piazza de Campidoglio, designed by Michelangelo with its twin marble sentries on horseback and its geometric marble inlaid floor.

Onward we pressed, past vast groups of high school kids accompanied by their harassed teachers until we arrived at Theater Marcello which forms the border into the Roman Forum. It was our intention to tour the Forum and the Coliseum today and indeed there was much to see and admire. The weather was perfect for outdoor exploration and we took in the vastness and the majesty of this most ancient of European cities with a mounting sense of excitement.

As we walked along the Via de Cerchi, we found ourselves sandwiched between the Roman Forum on one side and the Circus Maximus on the other. There were loads of photo opportunities as the various ruined buildings of the Forum came into view including the splendid Arch of Septimus Severus which inspired the design of Paris’ Arc de Carousel. The uniformly planned streets of Rome with its four or five storey buildings all painted in shades of ochre also fascinated me and I could not stop taking pictures. We rested frequently along the way as the distances are massive and my feet are still rather too delicate to undertake long spurts of walking without adequate rest.

It wasn’t long before we arrived at the Arc of Constantine at the end of lovely Via de San Gregorio which must be one of the prettiest tree-lined streets in Rome. Crowds grew thicker each time we approached a famous landmark and as we caught our first glimpse of the mammoth Coliseum, we posed for pictures ourselves. The ingenuity of Roman engineering never fails to take my breath way and walking through the corridors of the Coliseum had the same effect upon me as we bought our tickets (12 Euros provides entry to the Forum, the Palatino and the Coliseum) and entered one of the ancient wonders of the world. Needless to say, we took many photographs of this magnificent structure that has withstood the test of time and despite being systematically destroyed and recast in various guises (its marble was used for the facing of many other Roman buildings), we could still discern the differences between the Doric, Ionic and Corinthian columns that make up its three tiers. Despite that fact that one has seen it often in pictures, its towering height in still stunning in reality and we felt suitably chastened by its grandeur.

We continued our walking tour along the Via del Fiori Imperiali stopping frequently to read the material and explanatory notes to be found in our guide book and marveling at the antiquity of the ruins in front of us. I remembered various locations from my last travels in Rome more than two decades ago, where we stopped again to take pictures until we arrived at Trajan’s Column, a copy of which we had seen in the Victoria and Albert Museum in London. This wonderful monument sits right by the ruined remains of Trajan’s Markets and I tried to think of how amazingly bustling this place might have been more than two millennia ago when Rome was the center of the ancient world. Across the street we went, once again, to the Piazza de Campidoglio to admire Michelangelo’s handiwork from another vantage point—the piazza itself where we saw the sculpture featuring the she-wolf who nursed Romulus and Remus, the legendary founders of the city on the Seven Hills. The museums around us were tempting but we did not enter any of them as we were already rather exhausted by our travels and needed to find some sustenance in the form of our first Italian meal.

It was in one of the by lanes near Piazza de Trevi that we ate the first of many delicious bistro meals—Llew chose the Veal with Potatoes while I went for the Tagliatelle with Bolognese Sauce in a very humble street side trattoria which offered great people-observing opportunities. It was not long before we found our way to the Gelateria San Crispino which is written up in Lonely Planet as one of Rome’s best (on Via della Paneterria) and there we ate the first of many frozen treats that seemed to get better each time! Not too far away was the elaborate Fountain of Trevi beautifully lit and superbly highlighted. It is a breathtaking sight especially at night and though we might have succumbed to tradition and thrown three coins in the fountain to ensure our return to the Eternal City, the milling crowds made such an intention rather challenging.

By this point, we were both ready to call it a day delighted to note that our first day in Rome had proven to be so fascinating. As we crossed the Ponte Cavour, close to our hotel, we began to get our bearings and found that we were very well located indeed for all the sight seeing we wished to accomplish in the next few days.