Archive | April 2009

Viva IL Papa! Audience with the Pope.

Apr9

Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Rome

Our very first full day in Rome began with a carb-hearty breakfast and a cup of marvelous Italian caffe latte–make that two!–in Hotel Sant Angelo. We had a long lazy lie-in and only finished with breakfast at about 10 am which gave us a good half hour for our walk to the Vatican for our Papal Audience. When we reached St. Peter’s Piazza we were shocked at the vast crowds that had assembled and already taken their seats. I had expected our audience to be a private meeting with the Holy Father in a small private chamber–which, I am told, is how these audiences usually take place.

To our good or bad luck, however, our visit to Rome happened to coincide with the fourth death anniversary of former Pope John Paul II–and thousands of youth and pilgrims had descended upon the city to participate in the events associated with the milestone. The Piazza was filled to capacity with groups that carried flags, banners and placards to announce their origins and we were really very lucky to find seats for ourselves right by the pathways through which the Popemobile would be passing.

It was not long before the frenzy began as Pope Benedict XVI made his way into the congregation. From our seats, we received a clear view of his passing vehicle, his smiling face, his hands held out in blessings. I realized that it would be impossible to get good pictures and so I relinquished our camera into Llew’s charge deciding instead to get good views of him instead of bothering with pictures. When he passed just a few feet in front of us it was just too good to be true and though we followed the rest of the rather long multi-lingual service on the huge screens that are set up to offer gigantic views of the proceedings, we did cherish those few seconds when we had our own personal glimpse of him.

With this visit to Rome, I have now seen three of the Popes who have served during my lifetime–Pope Paul VI (whom I saw as a child during the Eucharistic Congress in Bombay in 1966), Pope John Paul II whom I saw during his visit to Bombay, India just before I emigrated to the States (I still remember the thousands of people that gathered at Shivaji Park to mark the occasion) and now my papal audience with Pope Benedict XVI in Rome. I was also delighted to discover, while the announcements were being made that somewhere in the mammoth audience was a delegation from St. John’s University in Queens, New York, my alma mater, and the institution in which I earned my doctorate. It felt as if I was singled out too when the roster was read and the name of St. John’s University’s delegation came up.

Exploring St. Peter’s Basilica:
Then, we were out on the streets of Rome in what remained a day-long drizzle. Unfortunately, we had not carried along our umbrellas. Instead of getting soaked, we decided to walk back to our hotels for a siesta after picking up take-away paninis from a bar right by our hotel. It was at 3 pm that we set out again along the picturesque banks of the River Tiber for our tour of St. Peter’s Basilica (which had remained closed to visitors during the morning’s Papal Audience and for a good two hours later).

Entry into the Basilica is now a high security affair with metal detectors and airport style frisking! However, once we were inside, we were free to roam as the fancy took us and we made a bee-line as did all visitors to the little chapel of the right on the main door where Michelangelo’s Pieta sits in all its gleaming marble glory. Though it is now so far away from the excited spectators who can’t seem to get enough of this, perhaps the world’s most famous sculpture, the impact is still so sublime that the statue seems to breathe. I made sure I spent time taking in the folds of fabric that made up Mary’s voluminous skirts and the pointed toe of her shoe—items that echo the Burgundy Madonna that I show visitors on the tours I give at the Met.

Then, Llew and I were looking at all the highlights of the Basilica—in particular Bernini’s magnificent sculptural works that celebrate the lives and works of so many illustrious Popes, each of whom built more and more ostentatious monuments to honor their own memory! Talk about megalomania! It is only when you get to Rome that you understand why there was a Protestant Reformation in the history of the church!

Of course, as practicing Catholics, there was no way that Llew and I could only look upon St. Peter’s as a work of art—it is, of course, a house of worship and Holy Mass is celebrated there every single day. So it was only natural that we made our way to the private chapel where the Blessed Sacrament is exposed for 24 hours of the day—an area that is reserved for private prayer. Here too, the splendor of the chapel is so ostentatious that there is no real focal point upon which the eye can rest. I tried hard to shut out my evaluation of the art for a while and get into a more prayerful spirit. About fifteen minutes later, we were out of the chapel and encircling the vastness of the basilica.

A visit to the basilica includes a descent into the basement to see the tombs of the Popes and it was here that we spent the next half hour taking in the grandeur of the various monuments that the popes constructed during their own lives with the hope of being remembered favorably. As we arrived in the midst of the 20th century, the monuments grew simpler and less ostentatious. Needless to say, the tomb of John Paul II was surrounded by visitors who prayed fervently for him. His tomb had single red roses strewn around it and, rather touchingly, several little folded petitions that were placed around its edges.

The Piazza de Navonna and the Pantheon:
Having seen St. Peter’s Basilica, we crossed the Pont Castel Sant Angelo (after which our hotel is named) towards the Piazza de Navonna to marvel at Bernini’s immense contributions to the city. This time we were armed with our umbrellas but the rain had turned the temperature down considerably and it was no longer pleasant to stroll through the streets.

We had the Piazza de Navonna almost entirely to ourselves as we entered the Church of St. Agnes in Agones, a particularly significant place for me, as I had graduated from St. Agnes’ High School in Bombay, India. This gorgeous church is special for the number of marble bas reliefs that encircle its interior, each more exquisite than the next. There is a lovely marble sculpture of St. Agnes shown at the stake where the flames miraculously divert themselves at her feet leaving her body untouched. In the crypt, there is another sculpture that depicts her with her long tresses covering her nakedness when she was paraded through the streets in Rome on refusing to give herself to the Roman official who desired her. That part of the church, however, was under construction and we were unable to see it. However, the church remained very special indeed and I took pictures to email to my batch mates who are connected now online.

Then, we were out in the piazza again, enjoying the four rivers personified by Bernini, in one of his many magnificent fountains, as aged giants. It was only a short walk from the Piazza de Navonna to the Pantheon and were arrived there in less than ten minutes. I do not remember seeing the interior of the Pantheon before and was surprised to discover that it is a church that houses the mortal remains of Raphael, one of the Renaissance’s most prolific artists. Of course, it was by this classical design–a cube topped by a dome–that Andrea Palladio was deeply inspired in his own creation of the Rotunda in Vicenza, a building design that has gone on to inspire some other well known international monuments, such as Thomas Jefferson’s home in Monticello, Virginia, the Jefferson Memorial in Washington DC and the British Museum in London. Llew and I paused not just to pray in each of these churches but to take in their multi-facetted delights and it was always that we were bowled over by what we saw.

Darkness had fallen over Rome by the time we made our way back to our hotel after a very nice dinner at Hostaria Costanza in the Piazza del Paradiso which is very close to the Campo dei Fioro. Over a bread basket with balsamic vinegar and olive oil and some red wine, we had ourselves a good starter and then on we went to the main courses–Llew ordered Veal in a Lemon Sauce which was very good while I had a Tagliatelle Carbonara. Italian meals never disappoint and we badly needed that walk back across the Ponte Cavour to our hotel at the end of our deeply stirring day.

Hosting Dinner for Friends at Ours

Apr9

Monday, March 30, 2009
London

Monday saw me return to NYU to teach my last two Writing classes before we split up for our spring break. My students were already antsy and I could tell that they are excited about their coming vacation as most of them will be traveling to different parts of Europe–some following in Llew and my November footsteps in Greece. Indeed, we have started exchanging travel tips as they are staying in the same pensiones in Mykonnos and Santorini that we used while some of my students have given me suggestions for a B&B in Rome that Llew and I will be using. Time flew along as it usually does as we continued to discuss Anthony Appiah’s ideas of Cosmopolitanism. At lunch break, I found myself working like a machine as I photocopied the material I would need for our own travels in the ancient world.

Later in the day, Llew and I went last-minute shopping for the items I needed for the dinner party we were throwing in the evening for some of our friends. While Llew laid the table and organized a list of some of the items I would need to borrow from our neighbors Tim and Barbara next door (including a coffee table and two chairs!), I put together the salad I would be serving as a first course (Pear, Walnut and Cranberry Salad with a Balsamic Vinaigrette) and the Chicken with Olives that I had learned to cook in Vicenza while watching my friend Annalisa at work in her kitchen at home. Served with polenta, it made a very nice meal indeed with strawberry cheesecake (courtesy of Marks and Sparks) and blueberry vanilla tart bought by Rosemary to finish the meal.

Tim and Barbara had walked in with a bottle of champagne from Harrods which we opened immediately (though Tim had to go over next door and bring us six champagne flutes as my meagre supplies to do not extend to such sophisticated requirements!) Our friend Bande Hasan who made up the final member of the six-some brought us two Lindt rabbits in keeping with the coming Easter theme and as we sat a table, conversation and the white wine flowed! The evening was a success and I was so glad that Llew got to meet my dear friend Rosemary with whom I have spent so many lovely evenings here in London.

We had to finish washing up and returning all the utensils and dishes (and furniture) we had borrowed from next door and though it was almost midnight, we stayed up and finished up all chores and set our alarm from 2 am. This would leave us about two hours of sleep before we took the bus from across the street to Victoria to leave for Gatwick airport at the start of our spring travels in the ancient world–Rome and Istanbul. Good thing I had done all my packing yesterday and after making sure we had all necessities, we went to bed for our rather brief nap.

Rambling in Rye (and Winchelsea) with Stephanie

Apr9

Sunday, March 29, 2009
Rye, Sussex

Stephanie had agreed that Rye in East Sussex would be a good place to spend a day out. Because poor Llew was jetlagged, we did not leave our flat until 10. 30 am, arriving at Stephanie’s new place in Richmond only at 11. 30am. It was the day of the famous University Boat Race–the Oxford Versus Cambridge Race, that is, on the River Thames that brings annual hordes to the banks to cheer their favorite team to victory. Masses of folks wearing their Oxford and Cambridge ‘Blues’ were on the Tube headed for Putney Bridge and while I would have loved to have made an event of this exciting race, it only started after 2 pm and it seemed a waste to spend the day waiting for the afternoon hour when the twenty minute race began as the event is largely determined by the Tide. Instead, we proceeded to Richmond where Stephanie awaited our arrival.

She chatted non-stop on our drive to Rye as she told us about cancelling her plans to visit South America and about her efforts to settle into her new home in Richmond which she loves. Before we knew it, we were entering the medieval city that is one of the Cinque Ports, associated with the smuggling and piracy of contraband goods throughout the Middle Ages. Today, Rye is a quaint town, perched on the Sussex Downs and overlooking the rolling Romney Marshes. A river runs through it and provides rather attractive photo opportunities. But it is essentially its cobbled streets lined with Tudor structures with their thick exposed beams and stuccoed walls that delight visitors who flock to experience a bit of bygone England.

All three of us were starving by the time our feet hit those first cobbles…so it was not surprising that we headed straight for the nearest pub to treat ourselves to a substantial meal–Steph went for the fish and chips, Llew dug into a Chicken Breast served in a white mushroom sauce while I could not resist the Broccoli and Stilton Soup that was served with a hunk of bread. It helped to know that we were seated in Rye’s oldest pub–a very atmospheric place with low slung ceilings and wood panelled walls.

Well fulled for our discovery of the town, we started along the streets indicated in a visitors’ map with graphic brown cobbles. At every turn, we were charmed by the abundance of old-world buildings to which England clings tenaciously by ‘listing’ and thus preserving them. I actually came across a house named La Rochelle–and, of course, I had to take a picture at its door–only to discover that it was the home of artist Paul Nash who had made his home in Rye for several years. In like manner, we passed by Lamb House in which Anglo-American novelist Henry James wrote The Wings of a Dove. Alas, we could not roam through the interiors as the house, run by the National Trust, only opened to visitors after April 1. (I am beginning to feel increasingly that my National Trust annual membership has been a true rip off as most of their properties remained closed over the winter making it impossible for me to extract full advantage from the membership fee I paid last August).

Roving rather aimlessly around the town, we arrived at the East Cliff where author E.F. Benson, once mayor of the town and creator of Mapp and Lucia has installed a plaque on a parapet that overlooks the vast green expanses of countryside that embrace the little hamlet. This look out point is very close to the Land Gate which is, in turn, very close to a clutch of smart but very charming old hotels whose tea rooms offered elegant afternoon teas.

A ramble took us towards the Church of St. Mary (right near the home of John Fletcher of the Beaumont and Fletcher duo of the Jacobean plays fame) whose clock face and mechanism is one of the oldest in the country. It is possible to climb up to the top of the square tower that provides wonderful views over the Downs, but we passed…deciding instead to take a self-guided tour of the ancient church that dates from Norman times and offers a wealth of interesting architectural details inside that are sure to intrigue the most jaded visitor.

We saved the best for last, arriving at Mermaid Lane at the very end of our walking tour and making our way towards the famed Mermaid Inn, a marvelously well preserved Tudor structure whose thick dark beams lend it a very authentic air of antiquity. We took pictures in its cobbled courtyard–in the very spot where I had taken pictures with my cousin Cheryl and her husband David on my last visit to Rye, a few years ago. Then, because the wind had picked up and was playing nasty games with our scarves and my rather thin jacket, we decided it was time to leave one of the Cinque Ports behind us and head home.

However, en route, I did suggest that Stephanie stop at Winchelsea, a lovely little village only two miles away whose white wooden sidings are rather reminiscent of New England and of Connecticut’s seaside villages (such as my own Southport), in particular. Though light was fading fast and the evening had turned chilly, both Steph and Llew were so taken by the churchyard with its half-ruined church facade that they decided to pay a visit inside (only to find it locked) and to stroll through the daffodil-filled front yard.

Ten minutes later, we were racing back towards Richmond, but not before remarking upon the huge masses of daffodils we saw everywhere. Indeed, England’s soil just seems to pop up in the spring in the warmest of yellows as these lovely frilly-headed flowers make their presence felt all over the country.

Back in Richmond, Steph invited us to tour her new flat and was pleased to know that we loved every aspect of it–from its convenient location to the station, to the fireplace in her living room, to the lovely spacious bathroom and the ample closet space that I liked most of all. Because it had already grown dark, we did not linger long in the town, though I was eager for Llew to catch a glimpse of Richmond Green and the famous theater where I have been seeing so many shows lately.

Then, we were kissing Stephanie goodbye and hopping on the Tube to get back home to Holborn. It had been a long and rather tiring day and we were quite fatigued. I needed to prepare for my Monday classes while Llew relaxed at home with the news on TV and after a very light sandwich dinner, the two of us called it a day. I was very pleased that both Llew and Stephanie liked Rye so much and I was glad that despite his rather short stay in England, Llew had managed to see one of my favorite parts of the country.