The Beauty of Chianti!

A good friend, originally from Milan who had moved with his wife to Sienna and raised his family there, invited us to stay with them for a couple of days. Being at the tail end of our Roman adventure, we accepted with alacrity.

We were going to take a train, which meant going to Florence first and then from there taking another train to Sienna. Our friend advised us to take the bus instead which  offered a more direct route. We took the bus from Rome's Tiburtina bus station, located just beside the Tiburtina Metro stop.  In just under 3 hours we were pulling into the bus station in Sienna, where our friend was waiting for us.

Our friend lives in the outskirts of Sienna, right in the middle of the Chianti countryside, Tuscany's crowning glory. In under 6 minutes, driving along a winding two lane street through vineyards and olive groves, we reached his place, a converted medieval chapel, with an ancient olive tree guarding the entrance.

The facade is untouched, as Siennese law prohibits the

alteration of structures like these. Indoors, everything is modern but the original walls are as they were. Everything inside is built away from these walls, therefore, the steel frame that supports the rooms, the floors etc. of the inside is built around a foot from the original walls.

The back door at dawn

Because building on land in and around this area is prohibited, one is afforded panoramic views of the Chianti countryside.

Before dinner that night, our friend took us on a tour of his olive grove, which he had harvested in October. He has a small grove judging by the standards of his neighbors, this being merely a hobby for him.

walking in between his olive trees

an ancient olive press

Handpicked olives are brought to the village press, then bottled as extra virgin olive oil.

We were to taste this later and I have to say it was delicious, and the best I have ever had! With its decidedly greenish tint and a slightly nutty tang, I dare say my friend's olive oil cannot be found anywhere in any market in the world!

Walking back to the chapel, we passed by this ancient olive tree beside an ancient shrub of rosemary.

The ancient, gnarled olive trees, the dormant grape vines, the intermittent hooting of the resident owl, the fragrance of rosemary mingling with the rather chilly early evening breeze made for an impressive not to be forgotten experience! But there was more to come!

That night, our host served us a leg of spring lamb cooked on a spit in his stone fireplace. As we waited for the lamb to cook, we sat around the fireplace, enjoying the warmth and sharing a  delicious Chianti!  The lamb was accompanied by a mixed green salad from his vegetable garden and some artisan bread dipped in his delicious olive oil.

a villa

a hotel

The next day, our host brought us for a drive around the Chianti countryside. Poets, painters, artists as well as ordinary visitors and even harassed tourists, past and present, who have come to Tuscany, and more specifically Chianti country, have never failed to fall in love with her! I was lulled by the beauty of the passing countryside, impressed by the large imposing villas and their formal gardens, thrilled by picturesque family ran hotels and tickled pink by humorous displays like these:

giant figures along the Chianti roadside

And then there is Sienna! (I will write about our visit to this beautiful place in my next blog).

We stayed 3 nights with our friend, and when it was time for us to return to Rome, we needed to wake up early to catch the morning bus. As we hurried out the front door, we were treated to this glorious view of the rising sun:

In search of THE (other) Michelangelo

One of my earliest blog posts upon arriving in Rome was about Michelangelo Merisi Carravagio. This one is about another Michelangelo, the less controversial, more universally acclaimed one. Or is this still true?

That both were artistic geniuses is not in doubt. But many say Carravagio was or is now the more relevant artist, a hyper-realist whose art is more accessible, and whose life, triumphs and most especially failures, personifies the modern anti-hero.  Believing this, buys into the hypothesis that the creative process of most artists goes hand in hand with chronic symptoms of agitation, of the manic type, and for some artists followed by symptoms akin to depression.

 

 While Michelangelo Buonarotti did exhibit certain aspects of the “artists' temperament”, he was not the tortured soul that Caravaggio was. He was and remains the product of the Renaissance, who labored to portray the sublime, the heroic, larger than life luminaries in accordance with classical tradition. And he lived to a ripe old age perfecting his vision and his art.

from Wikipedia

Michelangelo was born in Caprese, Italy, around 100 km east of Florence. (Notwithstanding its name, the delicious salad of buffalo tomatoes, mozzarella and basil, the Caprese salad, or salad in the style of Capri does not share Michelangelo’s roots.) His father Ludovico was a minor government official at the time of Michelangelo’s birth although he claimed being a descendant of the countess, Mathilde of Canossa. The family moved to Florence shortly after his birth where his mother died when he was only 6 years old.

His father did not appreciate or encourage Michelangelo’s artistic interests and talent, considering the pursuit of art as not befitting one in his station in life. However, Michelangelo did not allow parental opposition to distract him from his chosen path and was soon apprenticed to the painter Domenico Ghirlandaio, and very soon afterwards found himself in the court of Lorenzo de Medici, which pretty much established the pattern of his life, working on commissions for persons of wealth and power, politicians, royalty and the clergy.

I was able to see some of Michelangelo’s masterpieces in and around Rome as well as in Florence. I will cite them here not in the order I saw them but in the order they were created by Michelangelo. The first of these was the Pieta, completed by Michelangelo at the tender age of 21.  This masterpiece is located in the first chapel on the right as one enters St. Peter's Basilica.

When I first viewed the Pieta, many, many years ago, I saw it "in the flesh", so to speak. These days one views this through a thick pane of bullet proof glass.

Returning to Florence after the execution of Savonarola, Michelangelo executed his statue of David, a personification of Florentine freedom, from a block of Carrarra marble. This statue stood in the Piazza della Signoria but is now in the Academia Gallery in Florence, with a replica gracing the Piazza.

Seeing this majestic, massive statue of an unclothed perfect specimen of the male species made me understand why this was considered by many as Michelangelo's best work. The perfect, the sublime in true classical fashion,  must have been too much for one deranged man who reportedly attacked the statue with a hammer, managing to damage some of the toes before he was subdued.

Michelangelo's long relationship with Pope Julius II (the subject of the movie, The Agony and the Ecstasy), was to result in the statue of Moses found today in the church of San Pietro in Vincoli.

This for me was the most "human" of all the sculptures of Michelangelo that I saw. (I really liked it). Moses was depicted after descending from the mountains with the ten commandments. Michelangelo captured the expression on Moses' face, as he discovered what his people had been up to, as he communed with God on the mountain top. Confusion, mingled with anger and frustration  intensified by the rendition of the light around him, in the form of two horns.

A story goes, as told to me by my Jesuit uncle, that after Michelangelo completed the statue, he took his hammer and hit Moses knees and said "now speak!"

At around the same time, Michelangelo began working on the painting of the Sistine Chapel. Michelangelo was not really a painter and displaying a tinge of paranoia, he implied that Raphael had had a hand in his getting the commission to show that he, Raphael  was the better painter.

No matter how many times you've seen the Sistine Chapel, in real life, reel and or real time, it will not fail to take your breath away, and so it was with me, squeezed in-between wall to wall tourists. Amidst the "oohs and ahhs" and the clicking of cameras (despite a prominent no picture taking sign at the entrance and smaller similar signs in and around the chapel), I sat upon the benches available along the walls and just sat there oblivious to the people around me. It is difficult looking up at the ceiling, but identifying some iconic portions of this painting was not hard to do. (By the way, I did not take a picture while inside the Chapel, all the pictures here are from a book, The Sistine Chapel by Antonio Paolucci, I purchased at the gift shop) 

The Creation of Man

Afterwards, in the gift shop, I happened to look at a book I eventually purchased, containing the paintings in close up and vivid color. I noticed for the first time the contrast  between the way Eve was painted at her creation and after the Fall.

Pope Julius II was succeeded by Leo X of the Medici family, who brought Michelangelo back to Florence to work on several commissions for them. Disillusioned with the Medicis, he returned to Rome. At around that time he completed Cristo della Minerva,  (Christ the Redeemer) which now stands in the church of Santa Maria Sopra Minerva.

This work by Michelangelo was one of many that were "covered up", victim of the "fig leaf campaign" to cover up exposed genitalia in art during the Counter-Reformation. Apparently censorship stalked even the great Michelangelo. However, the censors were kinder to Michelangelo than others, whose statues were simply castrated.

In 1534, Michelangelo was commissioned to work on the Last Judgement which is behind the altar in the Sistine chapel.

Here too, Jesus and Mary were "clothed" after Michelangelo's death.

Michelangelo was not only a sculptor and a painter but also an architect. He worked on or completed several architectural projects which I had the priviledge of seeing. The first of these was the transformation of the frigidarium or the cold water baths of the Diocletian Thermae (or baths) into the Church of Santa Maria degli Angeli y dei Martiri.

Michelangelo was also responsible for the Piazza della Campidoglio as it stands today.

And last but not least, another Michelangelo masterpiece, St. Peter's dome:

Snowed under.....in Rome?

It started with rain, lots of it! The whole of Thursday it fell, but undeterred, my husband and I went shopping. I don’t like rain but SALDI (sale) signs are hard to ignore, Via Corso, Via Ottaviano, Via dei Condotti (no sales here...as if to say if you can’t afford our prizes....) and all the side streets in between. So we braved the weather, came home slightly damp but happy with all the bargains we brought home with us.

On Friday, schools were called off and wet snow fell the whole day. Going out on the streets was perilous, as Romans, especially Roman drivers, are not used to snow of these amounts. My husband and I were undeterred having lived in Montreal for the better part of 4 years, where temperatures of -16 C was taken in stride and 6 inches of snow was hardly noticed.

Getting to the city was no problem, trains and buses were running but the Colosseo was closed and so was the Forum, something that had not happened in maybe over 20 years. 

And today, Saturday, we woke up to the sight of snow covered streets and trees even in our neighbourhood. We woke up late morning which rarely happens, this because of the unusual silence since only buses were on the road, our neighbours deciding to stay in, at least until maybe lunch?

An addendum: A curious thing we have come to get used to here is the absence of a clothes dryer. Most of the apartments in our area dry their clothes out in the veranda, which we have been doing since we got here. But with the onset of winter, drying can take three days, two outside and a whole day beside the heater. But last Thursday I washed some clothes and put them out to dry. Forgot about this and remembered it only this morning. So we have to contend with another unforgetable memory of Rome.... frozen underwear!

Basilicas of Rome: St. Peter's

Returning to Rome after the Christmas holidays was difficult for me, ...really? What, you might be asking, is so difficult about returning to one of, (if not) the most interesting cities in the world? It is difficult to explain really, simply because the feeling is visceral, taking in the sights, listening to the sounds and inhaling the scents, my enjoyment is tempered by a tinge of sadness.

This feeling washed over me the first day I stepped out of the Ottaviano Metro stop upon my return. It was a beautiful day, another one of those dazzling sunshiny days with an amazing cloudless aquamarine colored sky, and a decidedly chilly breeze. Pleasantly surprising though was the absence of the hordes of tourists. So I walked without hindrance toward my destination....Saint Peter's Basilica. Returning to Saint Peter's was appropriate, I felt, this was a good place to start saying my goodbyes. After all, St Peter's dome dominates the skyline of Rome.

From the Janiculum Hill

Everything about St Peter’s is done on the grand scale, decades in the making, a collaborative effort of numerous artists including Michelangelo, Bernini, Bramante, Raphael, from the Piazza to its interior, from the works of art to its relics, it is truly an awesome sight!

From Wikipedia

Approaching the square along the Via della Concilliazone (constructed in the time of Mussolini) one gets an overview of the magnitude of the place. This approach allows one a truly dramatic entrance into St. Peters. The square was designed by Bernini as was one of the fountains in the square. Bernini designed the colonnade symbolizing a pair of open arms, symbolically welcoming the world into the Catholic Church. On top of the colonnade are 140 statues of saints, crafted by different artists through the span of over 50 years, beginning in the middle of the seventeenth century. And in the center of the square is an egyptian obelisk.

The dome on the other hand was designed by Michelangelo and is well worth the climb as the square when viewed from this height resembles a key hole, very symbolic indeed.

Adding spectacle and color to the granduer of the square is the sight of the Pope's personal bodyguards, the Swiss guards in their 15th century designed uniforms, (which was not as many believe designed by Michelangelo).

And when one enters the basilica (it is not a cathedral), the grandeur, the opulence and the sheer magnitude of the place cannot but fill one with a feeling of awe! Present day visitors, visitors from other eras, catholics and non-catholics alike share this feeling of awe, perhaps even verging on the spiritual. Stendhal in his Roman Journal (1827) expresses this succintly, "One cannot help worshipping the religion that produces such things".

Because St. Peters has numerous windows set high up, one catches glimpses of light beams, adding to its grandeur.

Upon entering, turning right brings one to the altar that contains Michelangelo’s Pieta, maybe one of the most iconic depictions of the aftermath of Christ’s crucifixion. Standing there, I was struck and confused by the serenity in the expression of the Virgin. I guess this total acceptance, almost a resignation did not resonate with me. There seemed to be an innocence, maybe even naiveté in this serene acceptance, perhaps a reflection of the youthfulness of the then 25 year old Michelangelo?

There are innumberable works of art that one encounters in St. Peter's. One of them is Bernini's baldachino or canopy over the papal altar.

The baldachino is right under the dome designed by Michelangelo:

The dome is supported by four piers with large niches at their base upon wihich rests 4 gigantic sculptures each representing the basilica's 4 major relics: St Helena with the Holy Cross, St. Longinus with the spear he used to pierce the side of Christ, St Andrew with the cross upon which he was crucified and St. Veronica with the veil she used to wipe the face of Christ.

St. Longinus by Bernini

In addition to these giant statues, one encounters what can only be the largest and most elaborately decorated holy water font.

The Basilica was built over St. Peter's tomb. A statue of St. Peter attracts many to take pictures and at one time pilgrims and the curious were even allowed to stroke his extended right foot.

In the crypt is where most of the popes are interred, the most recent being John Paul II.

Tomb of John Paul II

The basilica also contains the remains of other popes, some of them declared saints and others in the process of being declared. In one of the transcepts, one can view the incorrupt body of Blessed John XXIII, the pope responsible for convening the last Ecumenical Council. I mention this pope in particular because my uncle, a Jesuit priest, served as his secretary at one time and when John XXIII died, we were in Rome and braved the crowds to view his remains, almost getting crushed in the process!

Incorrupt remains of John XIII

It can take time walking around St Peter’s. Although it is not the seat of the Pope (St. John Lateran has that honor), it is to most Catholics the most important church in Christendom. But it is no longer the largest! The Guiness Book of Records gives that honor to the Basilica of our Lady of Peace in Yamoussoukro, Cote d’voire. The basilica was built along the lines of St Peter's but one can't call it a replica. I visited this church when we lived in Boake, Cote d’Ivoire, a strange site, indeed, rising up along a sparsely inhabited stretch of highway on the way to Abidjian, Cote d’Ivoire’s capital. The church has beautiful stained glass windows, with a very African flavor. Even the mass we attended was replete with African drums and worshipping was active and lively, with singing and dancing as the norm.

The Basilica of Our Lady of Peace

St Peter's may no longer be the largest but it certainly is the most memorable. This picture, taken from an apartment near the basilica, is what I will take away with me:

Rediscovering an Island

Life tends to send curve balls our way, on a fairly regular basis. And life being the way it is, nothing can stop its wheels from turning inexorably forward. This past Christmas season, a family emergency led to an unscheduled return to Penang Island in Malaysia, my husband’s hometown, a place we visit on a regular basis because of its beautiful beaches and to-die-for hawker food. This time, however, because the main purpose of the visit was to be with my very ill mother-in-law, we did not stay in one of the beach hotels in the Batu Ferringhi area, but opted to stay in one of the downtown hotels; close to the hospital she was confined in and also very close to her house.

Through the years, and the twice a year visits, I have seen mother grow old, from the tall, strong woman (who welcomed me into their family unequivocally) to the frail wheel-chair bound elderly woman I saw a few months ago to the bedridden mother I encountered today. She has changed from the person who took care of everyone around her to one who depends on her daughters to look lovingly after her. But her kindness, her lively spirit and the sweet smile she had shines through even to this day.

view from the hotel





Jalan Campbell



Visiting her daily in the hospital, finding a place to eat for lunch, squeezing in a time for Christmas shopping brought us daily through the heart of Penang Island, Jalan MacAlistaire, Chulia Street (backpackers' haven), Campbell Street  (jewellers row), Kampung Malabar, Leith Street (where great-grandfather’s tailoring shop was), Love Lane Street (where the wife of older brother lived), Pitt street, Gurney Drive (a long road right beside the sea, ideal for joggers, strollers and others, content to sit and let the world go by),  and many more streets, their English names a testimony to Penang and Malaysia’s colonial past.



Gurney at dusk

Walking these streets reawakened my husband’s memory banks, anecdotes shared, school boy escapades relived, coffee shops and hawker stalls revisited, favourite food tasted again, and then again. He brought me along with him down memory lane, awakening in me a deeper understanding of my Penang born husband and his mother, whose influence undeniably made my husband the man he is today.



shop house



Penang is an island with three cultures on vibrant display, Malay, Indian and Chinese. Culture, customs, holidays and food mingle amidst tall, imposing office buildings, international hotels, beach-side condominiums, preserved colonial buildings, mega-malls, picturesque shop houses, local coffee shops, and open air hawker stalls.

spires of an indian temple



Penang style coffee shop

 Understanding Penang for a “foreigner” like me may be difficult. However, eating the food she has to offer is a very good way to start. Whether it be nasi lemak (rice cooked in coconut milk, accompanied by curry and sambal), or Roti channai, (an Indian fried bread which one dunks into curry) or porridge, (a Chinese dish featuring rice with vegetables, tofu and other stuff) for breakfast. Or does one go for curry mee (chicken bits, tofu and bean sprouts in a spicy curried coconut mild based soup), in a particular street, in a particular coffee house? What about char quay teow (fried noodles with chillis, egg, beansprouts, clams, pork rind and other delicious stuff) or the very healthy yong tau fu (vegetables, stuffed tofu and fish balls in a lovely broth), or the very satisfying Fatty Loh’s chicken rice (a very delicious rendering of the Singaporean variety) for lunch? And then for dinner, a lauriat complete with suckling pig served two ways, peking duck served three ways and healthier alternatives like baked soft tofu with scallops, chilli crabs, or an Indian feast with tandoori chicken, rogan josh (lamb cooked in yougurt and spices), dhal (a pulse cooked with spices) with naan (an Indian bread baked against the hot walls of a naan oven), or chapatti (an unleavened Indian bread first dry fried in a hot pan and then grilled on an open fire) or a seafood feast in one of the many seafood restaurants just across the Penang Bridge, on the mainland.

remodeled colonial

For me, mother has been an integral part of my love for Penang. And her food! She cooked up a storm whenever we would visit and my children to this day say: “the best Chinese food in Penang is in Granny’s house”.

This was an anxious times for us, amidst the nostalgia of rediscovery, there was apprehension, because mother’s condition was grave, further complicated by her 95 years. Prayers and offerings for her recovery were undertaken by the family. My sisters-in-law went to the temple of Guan Yin (Goddess of Mercy) to say a prayer and make offerings for mother’s recovery. My husband and I went as well. I was told that the Chinese believed that if mother should survive the winter solstice, she would weather this crisis, and this is what we made our offerings for. 



Temple of Guan Yin

And she did! The day before we left Penang, Mother came home from the hospital, frail but alive and very happy to be home. My sister-in-law informs us that she is improving every day, making us believe that she will be around to welcome us home to Penang for a little while longer.