Visitando il maestro, il capo

 Dante Alighieri, exiled from his beloved Florence, made his way to Ravenna, which is a rather long way away.  Shunned because of his affiliation with the White Guelphs, a political party that desired to have more freedom from Rome's influence on the political and economic trends in Florence.  Pope Boniface was not going to take any lip from him, as he was known as an intellectual force to contend with, so he had Dante (along with the powerful Gherardini family) exiled from Florence.  No more unsalted bread for you!  (Florence was known for its unsalted bread.  A practice that come about because the city refused to pay hiked up salt taxes)

So here in Ravenna, he begins his Comedia.  His desire is to tell his story, a story of a midlife crisis of faith, that is the story of so many.  Calling upon medieval theological ideas, he begins the story of his losing his way, finding himself in a dark wood, standing before the gates of hell.  "Abandon hope all ye who enter here".... and it begins.

At first, he writes in Latin, because Latin is the accepted language of the arts, literature, and all other important things.  But then he has a realization.  He wants this work to have a wider audience.  So he decides to write it in Latin vernacular, the vulgate language, the common tongue, the Tuscan dialect, to be precise.  And this, my darlings, is the beginning of standard Italian. 

He never goes back home.  Rather, he dies in Ravenna in 1321 and is buried here.  His tomb has gone through many manifestations.  The one you visit today, which does indeed contain his bones, was built in 1780.

During the bombing of WWII, his bones were removed and buried nearby in a park.  They still mark that area with a plaque and a mound of ivy.

Every day at 2pm, a reader stands here and reads from the Divine Comedy.  If you want to be a reader, you can apply to do it online.  

Love moves the sun and the stars. 

The road to Ravenna....

Jean de la Fontaine wrote, "There is no path of flowers leading to glory."  And anyone who has ever taken the train from Bologna Centrale to Ravenna knows this all too well.

Saturday, I left my lovely Renaissance city by taxi at 9.  He took me to the station at Chiusi Chianciano where I delighted in walking up and down the platform because it was flat!  Flat, darlings.  What bliss to walk on a flat surface.  The train came at 12 and dropped me at Bologna at 2:45.  Craziness began around 7 minutes before the train was to arrive and they changed the platform number.  O dio.  About 75 people rushing to switch platforms.  Insanity.  Crammed into the train with it seemed hundreds of sweaty bastards from hell. 

Here's some quick insight.  The train to Ravenna is on the same track as the train to Rimini, a coastal resort town known for its parties, mayhem and general bad behavior.  In the 70s, it was the heroin capital of Italy.  Now it's just full of partially nude and intoxicated youth. 

So I found myself, in my quest for glory and beauty, yearning to feast my eyes and soul on the 5th-6th century marvels of Ravenna, sharing the train with a bunch of hooligans, misfits, wretches, stoned hippies, and a gaggle of rather dopey looking American girls who really shouldn't be doing this. Standing room only.  Sweating like donkeys.  Absolute wretchedness.

Arriving in Ravenna, I pulled out my phone for Google maps and began the 7-minute

walk to my hotel.  Only to be stopped at one street because THE GIRO D'ITALIA WAS COMING THROUGH!!!!!! Oh my god.  Quelle fabulousness!  It was the women's race, but nonetheless, so thrilling to watch all the support cars go by, followed by the peloton.

Then, to my hotel.  Knackered.  Wretched.  I even had to eat a few things out of the mini bar or I was sure I would die.  But here are my room and the breakfast room. 

Ho imparato molto

 My time at Il Sasso comes to a close this week.  I have learned so much and gained confidence that surprises me.  My ability with the language has soared this time and I find myself able to say things without thinking them through first.  It's glorious.

And I have worked with a wonderful teacher, Teresa.  A retired language teacher who taught Italian at universities in France for a good part of her career.  But she is a Montepulciano native and thus has made her way back to her hometown.  What have I learned from her?:

• Confidence
• Humor
• Congiuntivo trapassato and other nightmarish verb tenses
• Lovely idiosyncrasies of Italian culture
• Book recommendations

But by far the most important thing..... that wearing a black bra under a white shirt is BACK, BITCHES!!!

YES!!!

The Language of the Angels

 The protagonist of Thomas Mann's novel, Confessions of Felix Krull, stated, "I am truly in love with this beautiful language, the most beautiful in the world.  .... For me, there is no doubt that the angels in heaven speak Italian.  It is impossible to imagine that these beautiful beings would use a language less musical."

The reference to angels speaking Italian is an indirect reference to a line from The Divine Comedy, in which Dante states, "la lingua degli angeli mostrasi si piacente a chi la ode." -Paradiso XXV (trans.  The language of the angels appears pleasing to those who hear it.)  It is useful, malleable, musical, seductive, harmonious, all qualities that angels like very much. 

Throughout history it has been noted by great poets, thinkers, scholars .... and emperors, that Italian is the superior language.  I think this is best summed up by Emperor Carlo V d'Asburgo (1500-1538) when he stated, "I speak in Spanish to God, Italian to women, French to men, and German to my horse."

Oh, Europeans and their sexy multi-lingual ways. 

My journey with Italian definitely started in a 'dark wood,' not unlike Dante's entry into Hell.

I was in that 'dark wood' for quite a while.  Only recently have I entered into the Glory of the Light!  8 years, so far, and still going.  But it is so satisfying to feel fluency coming on.  To speak without translating first, to learn slang expressions, to communicate and be appreciated.  Bello, bello.
 

A great mind

 And, of course, I'm not referring to myself.  But as one wanders the streets of this medieval and later Renaissance city, one is constantly reminded of its importance during the Renaissance.  That the Medici took control of the administration of the city and established one of its banks here might be enough.  True, the Medici presence continues in the design of the communale, the Medici coat of arms (or rather, balls) affixed to the main well, the beauty of various loggia and the evidence of wealth and influence that only a fine family (albeit nouveau riche) can bring a city.  

As you walk on the Via Poliziano, you will pass this building:

This was the birthplace and home of Angelo Poliziano, also known as Angelo Ambrogini.  Born in 1454 and educated in the Classics and Humanism, both very influential during the Renaissance, he rose to notable status as a translator of classic Greek works and a brilliant scholar of philosophy.  It was his knowledge of the humanist principles from the works of Leon Battista Alberti that brought him into the Medici circle.  Lorenzo de'Medici ("the Magnificent") was also mesmerized by this new philosophy that put human endeavor and potential at the forefront of education and social importance.  

Poliziano was hired as a tutor for Lorenzo's children.  And they became rather extraordinary.  One of them, Giovanni, eventually became Pope Leo X.  Here is a section from a fresco that shows Poliziano with Giuliano, Lorenzo's son who eventually is featured in a few of Botticelli's works:

Notice the fabulous Tuscan nose.  Just divine!

The ups and downs of student life

 I have noticed doing research on tourism in Montepulciano that the photos of the city are often of the main piazza, which features the Medici coat of arms, the town well, the palazzo communale:

What is impossible to photograph is the elevation of the city, how it perches regally, looking out over the Val d'Orcia and the Val di Chiana.  A steep, steep, medieval hilltop city, it will have you burning calories  and going anaerobic all day.  Up, down, up, down. Regardless, it draws me back almost every summer.  The school is just marvelous, with wonderful teachers who are enthusiastic, patient and kind.

And the friends I make.... many Europeans wanting to add to their language count.  Most seem to speak about 3 or 4.  So many different lives I get to learn about.  Kindness.  From asking me to join them for a coffee or even lunch.  I have made friends, as always.  And thanks to WhatsApp, I still keep in touch with people I met years ago. 

I went to Porto di Bacco with Alix, a retired nurse from Philadelphia.  I had roast duck with potatoes and oranges, and a large serving of sauteed spinach (my favorite contorno).  A glass of Rosso, a helping of panacotta, a caffe.  Two hours of conversation.   Home to do schoolwork, read, daydream.  What is this magical life of mine?

Abbey of Sant'Antimo ~ going medieval

 Thursday's afternoon excursion was three-fold: a visit to a medieval abbey, a degustazione of Brunello, and a quick walking tour of Montalcino.

The Abbey of Sant'Antima is very extraordinary.  It is one of the most interesting medieval monastic sites as it was founded by Charlemagne (Emperor of the Carolingian Empire in the 8th and 9th centuries who was largely responsible for uniting central and western Europe to tidy things up religiously and politically after the fall of the Western Roman Empire.  But more than anything, he is remembered for his tidying up practices in the scriptoriums, introducing the infamous CAROLINGIAN MINISCULE!!  Please press geek alarm.)  The abbey became a stop on the Via Francigena, the pilgrimage route from Canterbury to Rome.  

As you can see, it is Romanesque Splendor!  A central nave, thick walls, Roman arches, few windows.  Glorious medieval beasts and creatures carved in the columns, smacking their lips as they look down on the monks during vespers.  It is all so easy to imagine!  It is constructed of travertine and marble.  Such a wonderful duet of stone.  The marble is greenish in hue and has developed a sheen.  

Molto bello!

Our art history group is made up of a Finnish woman, Ava,  (a tiny little creature who has a penchant for Latin), a French woman, Annetta, (lives in Strasbourg, is retired, teaches refugees French, very simpatica), and Mickey (a retired American professor whose family comes from Puglia), and ME (a student of the world, traveler, ever curious, day dreaming, chocolate loving, aspiring Italian speaker).