“Foreigners belong in France because they have always been here and did what they had to do there and remained foreigners there. Of course they all came to France, a great many to paint pictures. So it begins to be reasonable that the 20th century needed the background of Paris, the place where tradition was so firm that they could let anyone have the emotion of unreality. Paris was where the 20th century was.” – Gertrude Stein
I came across this cute little vintage cinema in Elkhart, IN and I’m not sure if it is still in operation, but it adds charm to this Midwestern town.
I just took a trip to Newport, RI, home of many grand mansions from the Gilded Age and my are they beautiful. We toured seven of them in three days. Their initial grandeur, although mesmerizing, loses its effect as you tour the houses and hear the stories of those who lived in them. Realizing what it took to run a house so ostentatious can be disheartening if you don’t belong to the same socio-economic circle. However, they can also be appreciated for their pure architectural beauty and genius. Most of them modeled after castles or chateaus in England and France, they helped spread the culture and intellect of Europe to the U.S. Who would have thought…a small town on the coast of Rhode Island acts as a miniature European city.
For anyone who likes Downtown Abbey or is interested in the social structure during that time, touring these mansions is a real treat. The tours are very informative and interesting, detailing the home-owners’ daily lives, parties, marriages, relationships with their servants, clothing, budget, etc. The kinds of families that lived in these mansions are the likes of the Vanderbilts. In fact, various family members built more than one house in Newport. The mansions are now preserved and shown to the public by the The Preservation Society of Newport County. It’s shocking to think that some of these mansions could have been torn down in the 60s, but thanks for The Preservation Society they are still standing and thriving. I would definitely recommend a visit to Newport, RI to see these stately mansions and learn more about the Gilded Age.
It’s no secret that food elicits an almost spiritual experience in us because of the fact that it demands the participation of all our senses – sight, smell, taste, hearing, and touch. Chef is a movie that certainly lends itself to our senses. There are beautiful scenes of the chef, Jon Favreau, or his double, cooking exotic-looking dishes, paired with fun music that demonstrates the fluid nature of cooking and how it can turn into an event rather than just a chore. An observation I made, though, was that no one seemed to eat some of the beautiful dishes he made, which didn’t make any sense to me because I wish I could have eaten it! The best part of the movie is when he drives a food truck around the country with his son and sous chef, making stops in New Orleans and Austin, both major food cities in the U.S. It’s also not just about the food; it’s about the way that food brings people together, as those who eat the food admire the ones who made it and as they bond while they share it together. This is a powerful thing that food can do and why something as simple as sharing a meal with someone can mean the world. Of course, it helps when the food is to die for.
Airports, train stations, and bus stations are interesting places to people-watch. People arriving and reuniting with their loved ones, people leaving loved ones, smiles and tears, so many emotions…I can’t help but get emotional myself when I see other people expressing their emotions. It’s an interesting way of playing off of others’ emotions. Do people mind that others are watching them in these emotional states? Places like these aren’t exactly private, so they must know that others are watching, either by choice or by accident. For arrivals, I don’t think people necessarily mind if others see their joyous reunions; but for departures and goodbyes, I imagine the spectacle is unwelcome. I don’t go to airports, train stations, and bus stations specifically to people-watch, but when I happen to be there picking someone up, or arriving or departing myself, these are the observations I’ve made. So the next time you’re feeling bored or emotionally stifled, try going to a place of arrival or departure and take pleasure in the reunions, or solace in the goodbyes.
I just read a really genuine, authentic, intimate account by Barbara Grizzuti Harrison about her trip to Rome, and having traveled there recently myself, it was a delightful read that brought me back to my own trip. I thought I’d share some excerpts from it to give you some insight on what it’s like to fully experience Rome.
“Rome cannot be learned by rote. It is absorbed through the pores.”
Everybody watches everybody else and calls this minding their own business.
Perhaps you do not think these matters are worthy of discussion. But to enter into Roman life, you must do two things, one of which is to take coffee seriously (or take seriously the Romans’ love of coffee, which they regard as both invigorating and relaxing, and their desire to discourse thereupon). The other is to not exclude the Baroque from your affections – do not, that is, remain overly attached to simplicity.Â
“…if you enter a courtyard in Rome, you are treated as if you have done something clever; trespassing is invariably rewarded.”
A city that anticipates all one’s needs and fulfills some needs one didn’t know one had.
“…ecclesiastical garments and undergarments are sold together with babies’ booties and women’s filmy lingerie. Perhaps this has a metaphysical meaning that I cannot grasp.”
My body, as is so often the case in Rome, has understood something before my mind has.
I dream incessantly, intensely, fruitfully when I am in Rome. My unconscious mind replicates the topography of the Eternal City. It caresses anomalies: it reaches an intuitive understanding of the past (my past), only to see more levels, deeper levels, hidden pasts, leering like a satyr smiling like a becalmed saint; it meanders sinuously among artifacts lost and found, unknown but known; it plays hide and seek; it travels many ways to arrive at the same place.
“There is no color in the world that is not represented here, no texture, no flesh.”
It occurs to me that Romans are taught to see things from all sides, and not entirely to trust the face of things.Â
Everybody I know in Rome wants to live on Via Giulia. I do too.
“You may never have this kind of Roman holiday…But if you are radically and transparently open to experience, you will stumble on something equally wonderful. One always does. Rome is generous.”
…that a child’s mind might have conceived but that only a genius could have executed.
It is marvelous to climb lower and lower into the ancient world.Â
There are times, in my love affair with Rome, when I wish to be nothing but passive. Rome will always be there – that is my hope and conviction. There is no need to rush here and there. It is enough to know that delight is all around me. When I feel this way, I spend the better part of my day sitting in a cafe facing the Pantheon, eating ices and contemplating the changing scene. Perhaps that, after all, is why I love Rome. In a city suffused in history and teeming with the most operatic people on earth, it is possible to be absolutely still.
Chronicles of our trip to Rome, which was really special because it was the first time that we went as a family in 13 years. Considering I was born there and grew up there for the first eight years of my life, it was a momentous trip for us.
Driving into the city from the airport, you slowly get farther away from the countryside – little pastures with sheep along the highway (not very romantic or charming as I imagine Ireland to be, but still cute!) – and slowly get closer to the center of Rome. Of course, it depends where into the city you’re going, but we were going to our hotel, Santa Chiara, which is very close to the Pantheon. As we drove to the hotel, we went by important monuments, like the Palatine Hill (the ancient palace of Domitian), Circus Maximus (the stadium for chariot races that held about 150,000 people), and the Vittorio Emanuele monument in Piazza Venezia. Upon our arrival to the hotel, we were greeted by the sweetest doorman who embodied Italian hospitality and kindness (my mom actually cried saying goodbye to him when we left). He proceeded to tell us the story behind the statue in the lobby, full of pride for his beautiful, ancient city.
We spent a lot of our time in Rome simply walking around from place to place, which is really the best way to experience the city because it’s how you encounter Roman life. Rome is…pockets of life everywhere you look – a different perspective from every angle and Italians talking, laughing, bickering everywhere. Italians really know how to enjoy life in a way that Americans simply don’t. The importance that is placed on taking time out of your day to get a coffee (usually with a friend or colleague and rarely by yourself), working at a more leisurely pace, taking a siesta in the afternoon, stopping in the middle of the street to have a conversation, etc. It’s things like this that remind me how communal and laid back Italians are. Rome is not without its hectic moments with the traffic and the chaos, I’ll admit that, but Italians have a relaxed, take in the moment, take in life attitude that I love so much.
 It’s been surreal for me, walking around Rome, knowing that this used to be my life. Just the usual, everyday routine – going to school, going to ballet lessons, going to a friend’s house, enjoying a delicious meal in a beautiful piazza, and simply living in the center of Rome. It’s hard to believe that I had such a glorious childhood, and I only wish that it was still my life.
Italians appreciate beauty for beauty’s sake. This is something that not every culture in the world does, especially not the U.S. The buildings, the monuments, the streets…everything screams beauty (to me anyway) and there is no escaping it. It begs you to appreciate it, if not for any purpose, simply for its aesthetic quality. I think this, in itself, is a beautiful thing and I think everyone would be much happier if they sought to see the beauty in things.
Italians have an elegance about them, that again, Americans simply don’t. From their clothing, to their shoes (perhaps the best indicator of elegance), to the presentation in restaurants (waiters meticulously preparing fish in front of you at the table), to the apartments, the storefronts, the cafes, etc. Elegance and beauty are intertwined and inherently part of every Italian (I think). Italians are also very cultured, which comes naturally when you live in a place like Rome. You are so inspired by your surroundings that you can’t help but be interested in great literature, music, and art. Not only are you surrounded by it physically in Rome, but you also encounter it personally in those around you.
For us, the trip was like returning home. Although it’s been such a long time since we had been back together, going to our favorite restaurant for lunch as soon as we got there felt as natural as it did when we lived there. The waiters remembered us and made our favorite dish, even though it’s no longer on the menu. Walking to my old school on the same route that I did when I was little felt just like I was actually going to school. Walking past our old apartment, however, felt a bit far removed because the street has changed so much since we lived there. Meeting old friends also felt a bit strange because it’s hard to know what to talk about when it’s been 13 years since you have seen someone – not to mention the language barrier, which as much as I wish that it wasn’t present, it was for me. But overall, being back in Rome, back home, felt very comfortable and natural, just like home ought to feel.
Home sweet RomeÂ
It’s interesting how your familial connections can take you to different physical places. For me, par example, I was born in Rome, Italy and lived there for the first eight years of my life because my dad worked there, then we moved to South Bend, Indiana, again because of my dad’s job, and now I’m living in a small town in Massachusetts because my grandparents lived here. It’s just interesting that the place where you are born is certainly out of your control, as is the place where you grow up while you are under your family’s care, and then even when you go out on your own you sometimes end up somewhere because of your family’s influence, as I did. Of course, some people choose to go somewhere completely unrelated to where they have familial connection, but not all. Those that are very close to their families tend to stay close to home or move someplace else where they have family (like myself). But I suppose that those who are not so close to their families, or those who place their career above all else, may move far away from family. These observations may seem rather obvious, but I have recently been struck by the influence that one’s family can have on where one lives throughout one’s lifetime.
Some people just have more ‘life’ in them than others – more things they’ve done, more things they want to do, and more creative minds that take them to different places. My grandfather was such a person, and upon his recent death, my mother and I have been examining his life as we’ve been trying to write his obituary. I’m just amazed by all that he has done – not that everything he did was terribly significant, although some things certainly were, but it’s the little things like his hobbies and interests that add up to a remarkable life. He was a fantastic photographer (although not professionally trained) and set up his own darkroom in his house to develop pictures, he was an accomplished pianist (which ran in the family), he traveled extensively throughout Europe with my grandmother, he had several careers as a teacher, journalist and professor, he had an intellect that I haven’t seen surpassed by anyone else that I’ve encountered (although I’ve had some fantastic professors that have come close), and was an art collector & chess player. He fled his homeland due to political unrest and left his family behind, never to see them again, lived in four countries ranging two continents, and knew four languages. He wrote several scholarly books and articles and, most importantly, he had a tremendous sense of humor. He made fun of people, criticized everything, and had very strong opinions regarding politics; but now, looking back, it was all in good fun (maybe). As I think about all these things that my grandfather has done and accomplished, I just can’t fathom that someone could have the enthusiasm to do all those things with and the heart to survive some of the things that he has. It’s really amazing to me. Like I said, some people just have more ‘life’ in them than others.
gooollysandra 