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Kathy & Rod’s

Trip to Italy2003

Invade Sicily! Everyone else has.

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Figure 2 Greek colonies

Figure 4 Monument to VittorioEmanuele IIFigure 3 The CapitolFigure 5 The staircase of the

Capitol

Kathy and I had taken a European trip in 1973 that included Italy, but we had not visited Rome as there was

a cholera epidemic in the city. Since that time I have become familiar with Greek history, and there were many

Greek colonies in southern Italy, which was called Magna Grecia. I’ve also become interested in the history of

Anatolia, present day Turkey, which was the center the

Byzantine Empire, which at one point in its history was

threatened by the Normans who had settled in southern Italy

and Sicily. And so I developed an itinerary for this trip which

included Rome and Sicily, but also the coast of Amalfitana and

Naples, the latter being the place where my grandfather and

grandmother had a tailor shop before coming to America.

Our flight on Lufthansa was at 18:05, and as we were

in the queue for check-in, I heard my name called. Steve

Ferber, who was the tennis coach of Oakton High School, was

with his wife Roe, and they were taking the same flight to

Rome via Frankfurt.

September 25: Wandering on Our Own

W e arrived in Rome at about noon the next day. Since our hotel was a few blocks from the Stazione

Termini, we withdrew Euros from the bancomat (ATM), bought two tickets for the metro, and started our adventure.

At the Termini, we decided to take a taxi as I could not determine the distance to the Hotel Cambridge. W e were

scheduled to take a tour that evening, but the taxi driver gave us a quick tour of the city and environs (I realized that

we had crossed the city walls). Ten minutes and 20€ later, we arrived. After we checked-in, we decided to go for a

walk and discovered that we were four short blocks from the Termini.

One of the problems that I anticipated was finding our way in Rome, and our first challenge, was to reach

Largo di Torre Argentina where we were to meet a guided tour. W e made it but could not find the tour guide who

later claimed that she had been there. So we devised our own tour which centered on the Monument to Vittorio

Emanuele II adjacent to the Piazza Venezia.

Off to the right of the monument to Vittorio Emanuele II are the Capitoline Museums: on the left is the

"Palazzo Nuovo", seat of Capitoline museum, on its right the "Palazzo dei Conservatori" and behind the statue

the "Palazzo Senatorio" with its beautiful stairs realized by Michelangelo, and the fountain with the ancient statue of

sitting Minerva. The Capitoline Tower, erected in the 16th century, overlooks the "Palazzo Senatorio". They were

founded by Sisto IV in 1471, extended by Pio V and opened to visitors by Clemente XII in 1734.

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Figure 6 The Roman Forum

The famous road, the Via Sacra, leads from the Arch of Septimius Severus and passes through the Forum.

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Figure 7 Largo di Torre Argentine

Figure 9 The Curia

Figure 8 Arch of Septimius Severus

Figure 11 Courtyard of Vesta

Figure 10 "Via Sacra" with the temple ofAntoninus and Faustina, the temple of Castorand Pollux and the temple of Vesta

September 26: Two Tours

W e tried again to meet the guide at Largo di Torre Argentine

at 10:00am, and we were successful. The guide’s name was

Harvey; he was from Belfast, and he knew his Roman history.

The Largo di Torre Argentine is an archaeological site

found during the 1930's when Mussolini was widening streets for his

grand parades. It is part of the Forum and includes four temples,

one of which was later converted to a Christian church. Not

viewable is part of a theater in which Julius Caesar was lured and

stabbed to death in 44

BCE. (The rooms of the

theater were used for

senatorial affairs, while

the senate building was

being restored.)

The first edifice in the

Forum that we inspected was

the Arch of Septimius

Severus. Next was the

Curia where the Senate met.

Between the Arch and the

Curia is a prison that has

been in use from Roman

times to the 20 century, andth

in which Peter the Apostle

was incarcerated and from

which he escaped but then

returned when he decided to

affirm his faith publically and become a martyr.

W e then viewed the Temple of the Vestal Virgins and

reviewed their duties and social standing.

W e stopped under some shade trees where Harvey asked

us if we recognized an aroma. It was bay leaf from the surrounding

trees. It was used by the laundry guild to cover the smell of urine

that was taken from the latrines and

use to bleach the white togas.

As we proceeded up the Via

Sacra, he reminded us to watch our

step as the road had been torn up by

Napoleon’s troops in his conquest of

Rome, and that the large, black

granite stones were not restored in a

fashion that resembled Roman roads

which were quite smooth. He related

the sad incident in which a woman

tourist fell and displaced her knee

cap and languished for hours before

she was taken to a local hospital.

The Temple of Vesta is a small, round structure in which the Vestal Virgins were

required to keep alight the eternal flame or flame of the hearth of the city of Rome.

Their apartments and inner courtyard could also be viewed.

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Figure 16 Trajan’s Market

Figure 13 Relief of the Arch of Titus

Figure 12 Arch of Titus

Figure 14 Colosseum(Amphitheatrum Flavium). Figure 15 The main hall provides a spacious

vaulted chamber on which shops line the walls ontwo floors

W e came to the Arch of Titus with its reliefs that show the victories of

Titus over the Hebrews and the destruction of Jerusalem in 70CE. The

reliefs themselves were carved by captured and enslaved Hebrews who

were forced to depict

their captivity.

No tour of Rome is complete without visiting the

Colosseum ; we walked around it but did not go inside. This

edifice takes its name for the Column of Nero built as part of his

palace: the word for column (colonna) led to Colosseo. It should be remembered that the amphitheater was

covered with white marble which was removed over the centuries to build later structures, and so what is seen today

are the limestone blocks.

W e then passed Trajan’s Market, a two-story shopping mall.

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Figure 17 Trajan’s Forum

Figure 18 A Scene from Trajan’s Column

Figure 19 Forum of Trajan; Basilica Ulpia

Finally, we came to the Forum of Trajan which includes his

column in honor of his victories over the Dacians in what is now

present day Romania. The column of Trajan was a unique

monument. It consists of a 100-foot tall marble column set atop a

massive rectangular base, topped by a gilded statue of the emperor

himself. Columnar monuments, albeit smaller in scale, were not new

to the Romans; there were three things, however, which made this

monument particularly novel: the chamber carved in its base to house

Trajan's ashes, the spiral staircase which wound upwards within its

otherwise solid marble shaft to a viewing platform at its top, and,

most of all, the continuous sculpted spiral frieze which decorates the

exterior of the column.

These carvings depict the events of both Dacian wars, with an

apparent accuracy of detail that has led some scholars to speculate that they were modeled on a war commentary

written by Trajan himself. The wars are shown as a series of vignettes or scenes which illustrate specific events and

preparations. The scenes cover the entire range of Roman military activity, from fighting to collecting food, from

marching to building. They also show many details of the land the Romans passed through - and of the enemies

they fought. There are over 2,000 figures in the carvings

which are about two-thirds life size.

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Figure 20 San Pietro in Vincoli, interior

Figure 22 The Chains of St. PeterFigure 21 Moses and his wives Rachel (left, symbolizingContemplative Life), and Leah (right, Active Life).

After lunch, we decided to take Harvey’s advice and

see the church of San Pietro in Vincoli (St Peter in

Chains). As the story goes, the two chains with which St

Peter was supposed to have been fettered in the Tullianum

and said to have been taken to Constantinople. In 439 a

bishop of Jerusalem gave them to the Empress Eudoxia,

wife of Emperor Valentinian III. She placed one of them in

the basilica of the Apostles at Constantinople, and sent the

other to Rome for her daughter, who gave the chain to St

Leo I Magno and built the church of San Pietro in Vincoli

(St Peter in Chains) for its reception. Later the second

chain was sent to Rome. On being brought together, the

two chains miraculously united.

The church also contains a sculpture that is popular:

Moses with horns. The horns were sculpted due to an

error in a translation of the bible which was describing how

beams of light, not horns, were emanating from the head of

Moses. Supposedly Michelangelo was so impressed of the

result of his work that it is said he threw his hammer against the statue crying "why won't you speak?".

I am uncertain as to the church official laying above Moses but possibly it is Pope Julius II as his tomb is

reported to be in the Church.

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Figure 23 The Pantheon

Figure 25 Piazza NovonaFigure 26 Column of MarcusAurelius

Figure 24 Piazza di Spagna. SS. Trinità dei Monti inthe background.

Since we had missed the Postcard Tour of Rome the evening before, we tried again to meet the guide at

Largo di Torre Argentine. W e were successful in meeting our guide, Stephanie, and her two colleagues who we

assume were “in training.” One was Julia, who, while trying to find a day job to support herself, was a jazz singer.

The tour concentrated on the piazza’s (public squares) that usually are flanked by temples or palaces

(palazzos) with a fountain in the middle. The first stop was the Pantheon, a temple to all the Roman gods built

during the reign of the emperor Hadrian (118-125CE). The dome was cast by pouring concrete mixed with tufa and

pumice over a temporary wooden framework in order to reduce its weight. The walls of the drum supporting the

dome are 19 feet thick. The only light to the interior is from a hole in the ceiling called the oculus.

From here we traversed streets and alleys to arrive at the Piazza Novona which features the Palazzo

Pamphilji, the grand town house of Pope Innocent X and his family, built during the mid-17th century; Church of

Sant’Agnese in Agone, which was designed by Borromini; and two fountains, the Fontana del Moro, which was

remodeled in 1653 by Bernini, who designed the central sea god, and the Fontana dei Quattro Fiumi, which includes

four giants who represent the great rivers, the Ganges, the Danube, the Nile and the Plate.

Next was the Piazza Colonna with its Column of Marcus Aurelius.

One of the more famous piazzas is the Piazza di Espagna and the

Spanish steps. The piazza, associated buildings and steps were actually built by

the French, but a change in possession of Italy to the Spanish gained them the

name.

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Figure 27 Trevi Fountain

Figure 29 Palazzo Venezia

Figure 28 Templeof Hadrian

W ith a festival called W hite Night taking place the following

evening, the Trevi Fountain at Piazza di Trevi was bathed in

blue[?]. The guide showed us the source of the fountain was an

aqueduct still in use that, at one time, ran through buildings, as

indicated in the patched wall of a restaurant across the street.

W e then walked to the Piazza Venezia, which, as mentioned

above, is adjacent to the Monument to Vittorio Emanule II. On the

west side of the piazza is the Palazzo Venezia, built in 1455-64 for

the Venetian cardinal Pietro Barbo, who later became Pope Paul II.

It was at times a papal residence, but also the Venetian Embassy

before passing into French hands in 1797. Since 1916 it has

belonged to the state. In the Fascist era, Mussolini used it as his

headquarters, addressing crowds from the balcony.

In the course of the tour, I asked what is was like to live in Italy. They all stated that they love Rome, but

that the place “really doesn’t work.” The best example presented was their attempt to get access to a site for one of

their tours. They would go to one agency which in turn refer

them to another agency which in turn would refer them back to

the first agency. It’s difficult to know whether this is simple

bureaucratic ambiguity, i.e., there is no clear allocation of

authority, or that someone needs to be paid off. If the latter,

then the problem becomes a question of who must be paid

and how much. For an outsider and one not familiar with

these machinations, it is impossible to achieve one’s goal.

Julia exclaimed that it was all a facade; to which I remarked

that an Italian author, Luigi Barzini had1

said much the same thing, but that Italians

had perfected their pretenses to an art

form so that the world was livable.

But of course things do get done

in Italy. I believe that Italy has the sixth

largest gross national product (GNP) in the world. But compared to America, government and

business activities are never a sure thing and delay is more often the case than not. W e were

to experience this condition all to well in the next several days.

September 27: The Vatican

The previous day, we had used the Metro to return from San Pietro in Vincoli; and we

had purchased our tickets from a machine at the station. This experience probably left the unconscious impression

that Metro tickets had to be obtained from a machine and not at a tobacco store. The Metro ticket machines must

be made by the same manufacturer that makes slot machines, for the probability of obtaining a ticket is about the

same as hitting a jackpot. W e were to meet a guide from Optimus Tours at the Musei Vaticani Metro stop at

9:30am. W e were told that travel time to be about 10 minutes (Rule of Thumb: when an Italian gives you an

estimate of time, double it!). So we began this drama at 9:00. Bypassing tobacco stores in the Stazione Termini,

we proceeded directly to the Metro entrance and confronted the ticket machine. It wanted .77€; of course we did

not have the exact change and the machine is very restrictive as to the amount it is able to return. Having obtained

the proper coinage, we proceeded to insert coins only to have the last one rejected. W e concluded that the

machine wanted coins in order of ascending value–and possibly a particular side and whether the person operating

was standing on a particular foot. It was impossible to tell, but it took us fifteen minutes to obtain two tickets. The

ride took twenty minutes instead of ten, and we arrived at 9:40, still within the 9:45 cutoff specified by Optimus. But

no guide could be found. W e were to face the daunting Vatican Museum alone.

Luigi Barzini, The Italians, Bantam Books, Atheneum edition, New York, published1

August 1964.

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Figure 31 Castelo San Angelo (formerlyHadrian’s Mausoleum)

Figure 32 Inner passage of Castelo SanAngelo

About four blocks from the Metro station is the Vatican Museum. The line of people, at least what we could

see of it, stretched a block down a hill and then disappeared around a corner. Around the corner, it stretched

another two blocks. I doubted that it would be worth our time in line in order to gain admission as even the most

efficient organization for taking people’s money (and not doubt the Catholic Church has proven experience in this

procedure) could not process such a massive number of people in less than three or four hours. But the line

moved; in fact, it moved quite quickly. How could this be? It was W orld Tourism Day; and no charge for entry! But

there was a hitch which we failed to detect. W e each purchased an audio guide and tried to determine what to see:

the number of choices is overwhelming. W e entered a large courtyard and viewed the sculptures, then went into a

room that had Roman statuary. Only a few were mentioned by the audio guide

as were the written descriptions on the wall. W e did enter a beautiful inner

courtyard that contained many famous Roman statuaries. W e were wending

our way toward the Sistine Chapel, and then for some reason I can’t remember,

we went to the lavatories and then the lunchroom, which I must say, was the

highlight of the day. Satiated and refreshed, we again sought the Sistine

Chapel but found ourselves plodding through the Raphael Room. The

symbolism is somewhat interesting, but there are just so many “Madonna and

Child” that one can take. W e emerged at about 2:00 when we learned that the

Museum was closing early, as it does every W orld Tourism Day!

W e walked around the Museum to the Piazza San Pietro and the Church of

San Pietro. It was built to impress with its size, splendor, and wealth. In these aspects it succeeds beyond the

imagination. But for me, it fails to create a space in which one feels the presence of the divine. Hagia Sophia

succeeds where San Pietro fails.

Losing energy, having stood for hours in the Museum and then walked in and around San Pietro, we walked

along a city wall from San Pietro to Castelo San Angelo (later learning that the wall also contains a passageway

(called the passetto) by which the pope could make his way in times of danger). The Castelo was originally built as

a mausoleum or a grand tomb for

the Emperor Hadrian in 139 CE.

The exterior was completely

covered by veneer marble. There

is a spiral ramp which links the

building’s levels. On the top was

a gilded chariot driven by a great

statue of Hadrian. In 537 CE,

during the invasions of the Goths

led by Vitige, it became a fortress

and many of the statues which

decorated the mausoleum were

used as weapons. The defensive

role of the castle was due to its

being in a controlling position with

respect to the northern access route to the city. Moreover, the significance of this role grew in time in relation to the

importance acquired by the area named around Saint Peter's Basilica and the Vatican Palaces. The name of the

castle takes its name from an ancient legend about the apparition of the Archangel Michael on the summit of the

monument in 590 during a plague. The Papacy took possession of the building in 1377. Radical interventions were

carried out in order to make the castle a safe defensive place for the Pope and for the Borgo citadel. It is complete

with dungeons; famous prisoners include Benvenuto Cellini. A bronze statue representing the Archangel Michael

was placed on the top of the tower.

September 28: The Power Failure

September 27 was to be our last day in Rome, and we were scheduled to travel to Amalfi by train toth

Salerno and then bus to Amalfi. In the night I switched on the light to use the bathroom, but no light came on.

Looking out the window, I noted that the streets were dark. That morning, the breakfast room was using candles. I

inquired at the front desk as to what extent Rome was affected. “It’s all of Italy,” he exclaimed! “It’s a catastrophe.”

It may not have been a catastrophe for us, but it did greatly complicate matters. The trains are electric and the

uncertainty as to when power would be restored left us no choice but to stay another day. W e attempted to see

various sites but mostly spent time getting lost and traveling streets we had previously seen. W e did spend a few

hours in the Museo Nazionale Romano where we saw beautiful mosaics.

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Figure 36 The town of Amalfi

Figure 34 Cove, AmalfiCoast

Figure 35 Duomo and Piazza

September 29: The Circumvesuviano

The trains were running and we left on the 10:27 for

Napoli. If we wanted to go on to Salerno, we would have to

take another train from Napoli. W e sat in a carriage with a

Japanese couple who had the Rick Steve’s travel guide to

Rome. It described in detail how to reach Amalfi via the

“train” called the Circumvesuviano (around Mt. Vesuvius) to

Sorrento and then a bus to Amalfi. W e inquired at the train

station as to whether or not to take a ferry but the last one for

the day had left.

Rather than choosing the unknown to Salerno, we

chose the Circumvesuviano. It is not a train but a metro and

there are stops every mile. The car was full and the temperature stifling. There were three teenage boys who were

just acting silly but still they were annoying. The trip took an hour and a half as did the bus ride from Sorrento to

Amalfi. W hile the coast is beautiful, I couldn’t enjoy it as I was just anticipating reaching our hotel.

As all the towns on the Amalfi coast are spread up the mountain side. Having a view is

wonderful, but not if you are traveling by foot and carrying luggage. I therefore chose a

hotel near the main square and the bus station. As we walked through the piazza, who

should we meet but Steve and Roe Ferber along with their friends. W e shared adventures

and tribulations. I would have loved to have talked over dinner, but they had plans and we

wanted to reach our hotel. On the side of a building and the entrance to an arch-covered

flight of stone stairs was a sign indicating Hotel Republica Antica. I had my doubts but it

was the best hotel of our trip. Modern and spacious, at least by Italian standards; and it

was a quiet haven from the cars and mopeds.

Amalfi was the center of

a maritime republic

which flourished

between 800 and

1100CE, having 70,000

inhabitants in its prime;

many more lived abroad

in merchant colonies

around the

Mediterranean from

Tunis to Constantinople.

The locals were skilled

navigators as well as

shrewd merchants:

Amalfitan sailors

introduced the compass

to the Christian W est

from Muslim Africa. As to Venice, souvenirs of Byzantium were brought

back to embellish private houses and municipal buildings - an example

being the bronze doors of the cathedral, cast in Constantinople in 1066.

The geometrically rich facade of the Duomo is actually a 19th

century reading of what a Byzantine-Moorish church should look like. Most

of the prize pieces from inside are displayed in the Cappella del Crocefisso, which is reached via the Chiostro del

Paradiso, a 13th century cloister with interlaced Moorish arches. On the hillside at the west edge of town lies an old

Cappuchin convent, now the Hotel Cappuccini Convento - reached by an alarmingly exposed lift of green girders

which we declined to ascend. Amalfi's other main hotel also was a convent. The Luna Convento hosted W agner,

Ibsen, Bismarck, Tennessee W illiams, and Mussolini - though not all at the same time.

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Figure 37 Look back at theMarina Gate

Figure 39 Basilica - main building for judicialproceedings

Figure 38 Mosaic from a villa

Figure 40 Brothel

Figure 41 Fresco in the brothel

September 30 : Pompeiith

I had scheduled three nights in Amalfi so that we could recover from Rome, but as we had lost a day due to

the power outage, we would spend only two nights, although we would have to pay for three. This day was scheduled

for a tour of Pompeii. However, for this day (and maybe just for this tour which the hotel advertized, the tour included

an ascent of Mt. Vesuviano). There was a strike (by whom and for what we weren’t told) that blocked one of the roads

to reach the site, and so the trip was about an hour and a half, delayed even more by traffic in Salerno. W e

appreciated the view of Mt. Vesuviano from the base but we saw no reason to drive up a winding road and then climb

another thirty minutes (again, an Italian estimate) to the summit to be told how a volcano works. Kathy and I decided

to sip coffee and read–a decision that we did not regret.

At about noon we reached Pompeii where a local guide led us through part of the town and explained the sites. He

was good but I was disappointed that we spent only three and a half hours at the site.

The houses of Pompeii seemed to be of two types: the shop in which the living

quarters were above; and the villa which housed a wealthy family together with poorer

families and slaves who worked for the family. In the villa, there would be an atrium as

one entered the building and in the center there would be a basin for the collection of rain

water for household use (which had to be boiled). W hen the aqueduct was built, the

basin was converted to a fountain. Off of the atrium there are generally several smaller

rooms including the kitchen and triclinium (three sided dining table). Towards the rear of

the villa there is usually a garden area surrounded by a peristyle (walk-way with a cover

supported by arches or pillars.) Along the peristyle are the bedrooms.

Probably the most interesting building was the

brothel. From the commentary of the guide,

only one woman used this house. The

woman would have been a slave, and

probably a foreigner who did not speak the

local language, Latin. Therefore frescoes were painted along the wall that

depicted various sexual acts so that the patron could indicate his pleasure.

The guide stated that the Romans viewed sex as an appetite in the same

way as drinking and eating. But what was the view of the slave-prostitute?

W e exited the site at 15:15, had a drink and waited for the bus.

The guide who was on the bus had left, and another guide was to get us on

the bus for Amalfi. But for some reason the bus didn’t come at the

assigned time, and so finally we walked to the bus only to discover that two Danes were missing. It took forty-five

minutes to locate them. I would have left them!

It was a beautiful evening and we took our passeggiata, then searched for a place to dine. W e chose a

restaurant right on the beach so that we could look at the bright quarter moon reflecting on the water. Our waiter was

very cordial, and reminded us of “Steve”--glasses and all--on the TV series, “Sex and the City. The fish dinner was

wonderful.

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Figure 4 Damaged boat

Figure 1 Narrow passages

Figure 3 Market fruit stand Figure 2 Next to the Sea

October 1: The Longest Day

W e planned to leave Amalfi for Pozzuoli, a small city west of Naples,

that afternoon by ferry at 15:30; this schedule allowed us to walk leisurely around

the Amalfi, one of the most picturesque places we visited.

The ferry arrived about 15:45, and Kathy settled in with her dramamine while I decided to go topside and watch us

depart from Amalfi. As I was climbing the stairs, there was a dull thud and I fell back a bit. “That doesn’t sound

right,” the woman in front of me said. On deck, a small crowd formed. “I think

we may have hit something,” someone said. “It felt like more of a shudder than

a jolt,” said another. “W asn’t that what the passengers’ on the Titanic said?” I

asked. The ship maneuvered back to the pier.

An older crew member emerged from below deck and he was angry. Other

members of the crew were now on the pier and remonstrating with arms

waving. Then guys in white uniforms from the Coast Guard started coming on

to the pier. Turning around to depart, the ferry had struck the dock. But it

wasn’t much of a jolt. How bad could it be? Bad enough that we had to

disembark and wait for the next boat. I thought to myself, “Italy doesn’t work.”

The next boat left at 17:10, which would not have been so bad, but that it was

terminating at Napoli instead of Pozzuoli. I was uncertain as to how to reach our destination: Baia (pronounced

Bye’ yah). The reports by tourists of Napoli and the warnings given by Rick Steves’ Guidebook were giving me a

panic attack. And what was worse, we were arriving in the dark. Since we

were arriving at the same port from which we would depart in a few days

for Sicily, we decided to find the ticket office of TTTLines. As we searched

the massive Stazione Marittima, an elderly man asked if he could help us.

Naturally we were suspicious but we did need help. He knew the location

of the ticket office but when we mentioned that we were going to Baia, he

gasped: “That’s a long way.” Ah, just what I wanted to hear. W e walked

to his car which impressively was parked in front of an office in the station,

but he stopped at the police office to ask how to get to Baia. This inquiry

prompted an animated discussion for which I could only conclude that the

means of getting there was uncertain, even though Baia was about twenty

miles away. Italians don’t get around much, I thought.

I figured that the guy was honest since he had talked to the

police–unless the police were in cahoots. Then I had to figure out how to

protect our luggage and my wife. I said to Kathy that I would stay in the car with the luggage, and she would have

to get the tickets. She seemed to be in the ticket office for an inordinately long time, mainly because the ticket

clerk did not speak English and because the tickets were issued initially for that night rather than three days later.

Meanwhile I’m trying to make small talk in English and Italian with Nadir Scardino, a nice enough guy but who

exaggerates beyond belief, claiming that he has been in every city in the United States, including Reston, and that

he was honored as a guest of the U.S. Navy on an aircraft carrier. Hurry up Kathy!

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And then off we went. Through the streets of Napoli we raced, down the wrong way on street car tracks,

through red lights, and into coming traffic. W e arrived at a darkened station that was inviting as the ‘L’ at 47 andth

State Street in Chicago. W e thanked him profusely, scrambled down to the tracks, and boarded a train. I had

talked to the hotel clerk who had said that we should get off at Lucrino. I studied the schematic of the route: No

Baia and no Lucrino! The terminal was Pozzuoli! W ell maybe there’s another train or a bus station near by. W e

dragged our luggage into the station’s café and asked how could we get to Baia Again this produced quizzical

looks and then someone said that we could catch a bus at the end of the street. It was dark, and there were guys

hanging around outside. W e looked like two chickens waiting to be plucked. At the bus stand, we were not even

sure which side was the for the bus to Baia. W e waited.

Suddenly a taxi appeared and I waved it down. No time to save a few bucks but then I realized when had

only a limited amount of euros. W e fumbled nervously and together we had forty euros. I had read that one

should always make an agreement with the driver as to the cost of the ride. He said that he couldn’t tell as he was

on a meter. I knew that could be a trick; I insisted he give me a price. “Quaranta euros,” he said. Done! Again

we raced along and we seemed to be in Baia in a few minutes. “Ah,” I said to myself, “This was a good deal for

both of us.” But he didn’t know where the hotel was and neither did any of the people he ask. He had called the

Hotel Il Gabbiano when we set out, but he still didn’t know the way and for some reason he didn’t call them again.

Up hill and down dale, around bends and under viaducts, into town and out. There were some signs but not

enough so that we had to guess sinestra or destra. At last we made it. In my best Italian, I thanked him profusely,

gave him the forty euros and said, “Quello é tutti ho” [This is all I have]. Relieved and shaking, we slogged up the

steps to the Promised Land: the registration desk of Il Gabbiano.

I was afraid that the dinning room would be closed as it was 21:30, but it was in full swing when we arrived. This

place was big and fancy–a place where weddings and big family dinners are held. W e were seated at a half-round

table against a wall of the terrace overlooking the Gulfo di Pozzuoli, Lake d’Averno, and, in the, faint, glimmering

moonlight: the goddam train station of Lucrino.

W e gazed at the menu and I looked for translations in my pocket dictionary but to no avail. The waiter

spoke no English. W e would order blind. Italian dinners consist of four courses: antipasto, prima corso, usually

pasta, secondo corso, usually meat or fish, and dolce (sweet/deserts). W e bravely ordered only two antipasti and

one secondo corso of fish, hoping not to offend or incur the disdain of the waiter. He gave no such indication but

then we were ignorant and uncultured foreigners, so who knows. W ater, bread and wine appeared. And then the

two antipasti: one was a sampling of fish and the other was crawfish in a broth of tomatoes, celery and parsley.

They were unbelievably delicious, as was the secondo corso and the dolce. My nerves had calmed as we finished

dinner after midnight, and we slept soundly until 9:30 the next morning.

October 2: Seeking the Sybil

W hy Baia? Because it is a resort town near the ruins of a Greek city call Cumae in Greek or Cuma in

Italian. Cumae was founded by Greeks who had probably already occupied Ischia (Phiticusa), an island off the

southern coast, in the eight century BCE. Between the seventh and sixth centuries B.C., the population extended

across the entire Phlegrean region (the fertile volcanic region in Campania between Pozzuoli and Naples) and

eventually founded Neapolis (Naples). The powerful Cumaens therefore controlled the entire Campania coastline,

and economic and territorial difficulties arose with inland peoples. The Etruscans of Capua fought the Cumaens

unsuccessfully several times in attempts to put a stop to the Cumaens' ever-increasing power. Eventually internal

political difficulties weakened Cumae, and the Samnites conquered the city in the late fifth century BCE.

In 334 BCE, Cumae became a Roman province. The small towns of Pozzuoli

and Baia, spawned by Cumae, prospered under Roman rule. Pozzuoli became the most

important port in Italy and Baia the most important thermal baths of antiquity. In spite of

the election of a "municipium" by the Roman government, Cumae's historical role

diminished because it was excluded from the power plays in Rome.

For a time Cumae became a very important Christian center in Campania. The

pagan temples were transformed into churches in the fourth and fifth century. After this

time, Cumae was just another town for invaders to battle in attempts to conquer

Campania. In 915 A.D. the Saracens invaded and reduced the city to a hideout for

bandits. After the bandits were routed by Neapolitans in 1207 A.D., the city became uninhabited.

Page -15-

Figure 7 Cave of the Sybil

Figure 8 Castello di Baia

Built on a hillside near the sea with a fine view, there remain parts of

several structures in Cumae today. The most impressive and noteworthy is the

Cave of the Sybil, the Cumaen Sybil mentioned in Greek mythology by Ovid and

Virgil. It is here that she is said to have lived and here she divined the future for

many people, most notably Aeneas who left Troy after it was devastated in the

Trojan W ar and began his search for a new home in the land of Hesparis (Italy)

which was the land of his ancestors. The unique masonry hall that leads to the

Sybil's cave is exceptional and unforgettable.

Also in Cumae are the remains of the Temple of Apollo, the Temple of

Jupiter (this one at the highest part of the city) and an acropolis. There is also a

remarkable Grotto of Cocceiro, or Grotto of Peace, a Roman underground

tunnel connecting the Lake of Averno with the Marina of Cumae and then, by

canal, to the sea.

As part of a system covering the whole territory, the Castello di Baia ensured control of the bay of

Pozzuoli and prevented enemy vessels sailing in and landing troops which could have attacked Naples itself from

the rear. The site was first fortified during Aragonese rule in 1495, when the Kingdom of Naples was threatened

with imminent invasion by the forces of Charles VIII of France. In the years 1538 to 1550 the Spanish viceroy

Pedro di Toledo carried out extensive rebuilding works on the Aragonese castle, strengthening and enlarging it

until it took on the aspect seen today.

After visiting these two sites, it was time to return

to the hotel. W e had caught a bus with the sign

“Archeological Park” from Cumae to the castle, and we

thought that we could return to the road near the hotel.

W e waited for forty-five minutes but no bus came. Gigi,

the man at the front desk, had said that he would send

the hotel’s minibus to pick us should we call. But we

could not find a telephone (and there was no telling what

difficulty we would have in finding a “getone”, i.e., token to

make the call). So finally I walked into a store/office and

asked the man to make a call to the hotel for us. He looked at me like I was nuts but he made the call and handed

me the cell phone. The new desk clerk wanted to know where we were and the number where we could be

reached. Of course I didn’t know the number and was hesitant to ask the man for his cell phone number. So I

asked him to talk to the desk clerk. They talked and he said (we talked only in Italian) the minibus would come.

And it did. So like Blanch Dubois, we relied on the kindness of strangers.

Not having lunch, we arrived at the dinning room at 7:30 and found ourselves their first customers of the

evening. W e were seated on the lower patio at a table with an umbrella and a candle. Softly playing in the

background was a CD by James Taylor. Again we had little idea as to what we were ordering but it was delicious.

It was a romantic and relaxing evening and in the company of the love of my life.

October 3: Into the Heart of the Beast

The plan was to take a train to Naples and leave our bags at the port (Molo Beverello), then tour the city

until the evening and catch an overnight ferry to the city of Catania on the eastern coast of Sicily. The hotel’s

minibus dropped us at the train station at Lucrino, but rather terminating at Stazione Centrale as I had thought, we

terminated at a station called MonteSanto. W e asked the advice of the station master and he suggested taking a

taxi to the Stazione Marittima. It was good advice, especially as we had no idea where we were. In my most

affluent Italian, I directed the driver to the ticket office of TTTLines who in turn directed us to the Deposito Bagagli

which was 200km north. I really had and have no idea how far 200km is, but the Deposito was not where I thought

it might be. I was exasperated that no one we asked, including the taxi driver, knew where this place was located.

Finally we were directed to the other side of the Molo (wharf) which required us to leave the Molo, drive on a city

street, and re-enter the wharf area. In large, bold letter we saw: “Deposito Bagagli.” This entire trip came to only

about 14€ and so I gave the driver 20€ and thanked him profusely. W e were much relieved because without being

able to store our luggage, we would not have been able to tour the city.

Page -16-

Figure 10 Galleria Umberto I

Figure 12 Teatro San Carlo (exterior)

Figure 11 Galleria Umberto IFigure 9 Galleria Umberto I

I had 50€ picked from my belt wallet in Rome, and now we were entering a city known for its professional

pickpockets. In talking to a couple from London at the Il Gabbianol at breakfast, they related their experience the

previous day in which they were driving in the city; when they stopped for a moment in traffic, suddenly the back

door opened and out flew the woman’s purse, which then disappeared with two men on a motor scooter. This

time I wore a money belt inside my shirt along with our credit and money cards, money, and passports. The

thought of losing one’s passport and money card is almost paralyzing. W ithout both, you will not be able to stay at

a hotel nor travel out of the country. The only hope is to obtain help through the consulate and in Italy I believe

there are only three: Milan, Rome and Naples. I did read that in Sicily it may be possible to have these items

retrieve by the police who have an understanding with the Mafia. But we weren’t in Sicily and I was determined not

to be assaulted nor have Kathy’s purse stolen. W e agreed to walk so that I was always at the side of her purse

which she hung from her shoulder and had her hand on the opening.

W e walked passed the Castel Nuovo and sought the Galleria Umberto I where we lunched.

W e walked out a side entrance and, as the Italians say, “a due passe,” there was the Teatro San Carlo

where my grandmother Beatrice and Grandfather Alfredo had attended some operas, probably not too many as it

Beatrice told my mother that Alfredo did not care to go but preferred to play cards with his cronies. One time,

Beatrice bought two tickets and laid one on the table in front of Alfredo stating, “Here’s your ticket if you want to

accompany me.” Alfredo had little choice as he could not allow his wife to go to the theater unaccompanied by her

husband. W e walked in the theater and were immediately asked if we were with the tour. W e said no but we

wanted to go with the tour and bought two tickets for 10€.

The San Carlo was built in 1737 by King Charles of Bourbon

who wished to endow his capital city with a theater to take the place of

the old and crumbling San Bartolomeo which belonged to the Casa

degli Incurabili. The coat of arms of the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies is

suspended over the majestic proscenium arch, blending in with its

colors: at its center there is the stem of the House of Bourbon - three

fleurs-de-lys on a light blue field - surrounded by the 21 heraldic

symbols of the houses related to the ruling dynasty.

In each loge was a mirror on the wall so that all the occupants

could see the king in his loge in the rear of the theater so as not to look

directly at him. Also, we were told, that people applauded only if and

when the king applauded.

Our next objective was the Museo Nazionale with its archeological collection. W hen visiting most of the

archeological sites in Campania, there are signs which describe the artifact and that it may be seen in the Museo

Nazionale Napoli.

Page -17-

Figure 13 Castle Nuovo

Figure 14 Trinacria

From the Galleria, we walked passed the Municipal building and briefly toured the garden, then proceeded

into two large piazzas: Piazza dei Reale and Piazza Plebiscito. These were not areas for pedestrians and

loungers but for demonstrations, probably for the masses to listen and applaud Mussolini.

The walk up Via Toledo was arduous, hot, long, and asphyxiating due to exhaust of automobiles and

mopeds which hovered within the confines of the narrow street surrounded by four story buildings. W e did visit the

museum but I can’t say it was worth the effort. W e looked in vain for a place to sit and drink, but decided to head

back. W e took a taxi to the Galleria. The meter showed a little over 5€. I handed the driver at 10€. He said that

10€ was correct for two passengers. I argued briefly but figured it

would be in vain and exited.

W e then took a brief tour of the Castle Nuovo but were too

weary to tour the interior.

W e retrieved our luggage and dragged it to the Stazione

Marittima. As we crossed the Molo, I noticed a ship at the far end of

the pier and made out the name: Trinacria (pronounced trin nak’1

kreea). Up to this point, we had been unable to identify the name of

our ship on our ticket but now we could match the words on the paper

and the ship. W e entered the station and tried to determine how to

reach the ship. W e stopped at the Information Office. “It’s not here,”

stated the official, as if she really knew what she was talking about.

“Bullshit” I thought to myself. Her colleague said that he would ask.

How the hell can someone at an information desk not know what

ships are in port–ships the size of a football field? He came back and

affirmed that the ship was at the end of the dock and that we should proceed at ground level to the end of the pier.

I hoped that we would walk along a red carpet and up a canvas gangplank to be greeted by the captain of

the ship, but instead we had to walk through the loading dock and dodged semi-tractor trailer trucks being driven

on to the ship. W e showed our papers/tickets to a crew member in a white uniform, who in turn put up five fingers

which Kathy interpreted as level 5. The elevator opened and we walked into a modern and spacious reception

area from which we could view the bar and restaurant. W e were led to our cabin which was small but modern,

clean and efficient. Though it had no porthole, it was cozy. And best of all, we hadn’t missed the departure, and

we were safe from the perils of Napoli.

W e refreshed ourselves and went to dinner. This was not a luxury

liner by any means but a ship that transported passengers and trucks

between Naples and Sicily. W hile there were women and families, the

majority of the passengers seem to be single Sicilians, probably truck

drivers. Like all Italians it seemed, they enjoyed each others company and

vigorously conversed. W hile I could not understand conversations in

Italian in Italy, I usually could pick out a few words, but here I could not

recognize a word and the sound was different. Obviously they were

speaking Sicilian and not Italian.

W e were to arrive at 7:00 the next morning but I awoke at 6:15

and went out on deck to view the scene. Only one man was outside and

we conversed as best we could. W e had passed the straits of Messina

and had successfully passed between the Scylla and the Charybdis (the

‘sucker down’; pronounced kar-ib'-dis). But I was more concerned with

reaching the train station in Catania. “Lontanno o vicino?” I asked. “Vicino,” he said. “A piede,” he added and

wiggled his fingers as to indicate it could be walked. I was relieved–but naïve.

Trinacria was the Greek name for the island, meaning three-sided. Sicily derives from1

Siculi, one of three peoples that populated the island before the colonization by the Greeks

Page -18-

Figure 15 The Trinacria inCatania

Figure 18 Mime in the piazza

October 4: Taormina Day 1

W e debarked and followed the directions he and others gave us. W e

paused near the tourist office and change office (I thought that we needed euros,

especially when we reached Taormina.). Both were supposed to open at 9:00 but I

had read the guidebook and it had said neither could be guaranteed. I asked

directions to the nearest bancomat in Italian and was able to understand their

directions. ATMs are wonderful. W e then proceeded to the train station which, we

were told, was just five minutes away. It was hot. The bags became heavy. And it

certainly was farther than 5 minutes. In all it probably took twenty-minutes and I

was soaking wet from sweat. But the train was only 3€ and it was due to arrive in

fifteen minutes. All went well, and we arrived in the beautiful town of Taormina. A

ten minute taxi ride for 15€ and we were at Hotel Elios.

I had retained a guide for our next stop, Siracusa, who had commented about Taormina that, “The

Theater and its view from the upper seats are worth a long journey, but beyond that, I cannot imagine why anyone

who is not into buying overpriced goods would linger in Taormina longer than a day.”

But Taormina is a place to linger. It does not have many spectacular buildings and

monuments nor does it have a history the is pivotal to W estern Civilization. But it

does have charm with places that catch your eye: a small piazza, a narrow street,

clothes drying on the line on a balcony, and of course, the various views of the sea

from atop its cliffs.

W e had lunch at Il Giardino’s and then strolled through the “Giardino Pubblico, a

lush park bequeathed to the town by an

eccentric Englishwoman in the 1920s.

Florence Trevelyan adorned her hanging

gardens with pagoda-style follies and

observations towers for bird-spotting

(she was a keen amateur ornithologist).

The tiered gardens are linked by mosaic paths

and wind past caged peacocks and tropical plants,

from spiky cacti and lilies to dull English hedges.”

W e walked up Via Teatro Greco to the Greek

theater and then strolled along the edge of the cliff

that overlook the sea. W e then followed the

guidebook to peruse the Piazza Vittorio Emanuele, (built over a Roman forum),

the Palazzo Corvaja (a historic mansion where the Sicilian Parliament met in 1411),

the Porta Messina (a gate in the city wall), the tiny church of San Pancrazio (build

over a Temple to Isis) and the Naumachia, originally a vaulted cistern connected to

the city baths and later a Hellenic nymphaeum and Roman gymnasium.

W e retired around 22:00 that evening but were serenaded by fireworks. Afterwards, we could hear a

softer and duller explosions but thought little of it and slept soundly that night.

Page -19-

Figure 20 Those little cars

Figure 21 Palazzo di Santo Stefano

Figure 22 View from the Terrace (Elios)

October 5: Taormina Day 2

The next day was spent in similar kinds of wanderings,

while simply enjoying the shops, fountains, churches, and hotels.

W e decided to capture a picture of the smallest automobile we had

ever seen. They are quite common in Italy, and the fact that they

are as short and

they are wide

allows them to

park

perpendicular to

the curb as well

as parallel.

As Doug described, we probably paid for over priced souvenirs

and so as not to spoil the fun, I read the history of Sicily in the

garden while Kathy purchased some ceramic dishes and had

them shipped home plus some soccer shirts as requested by

one of her colleagues from work.

I also had time to read on the terrace on the rooftop of our hotel

and catch some sun. Mt. Aetna seemed closer than I had first

estimated, and I noted the clouds over it seemed to be rolling

down its slopes. W e had witnessed a video in the window of a CD shop showing the eruptions of the volcano, and

of course we had visited Pompeii only a few days before. I ran my

hand over my book and noted that there was a fine grit on the page.

There seemed little doubt that should the mountain erupt, there would

be no escape from its deadly gases and cinders. W e then realized

that the dull and distant explosions were actually the eruptions of the

volcano inside the caldera.

Before bed, we went to the terrace on the rooftop of our hotel

and just gazed at the lovely site of Mt. Aetna, the lights of the city, and

the reflection of the moon on the sea.

October 6: The Arab

W e arrived at the train station around 10:15 in the morning,

and, after buying the tickets, attempted to determine the binario (track) on which the train would arrive. This

meant reading the monitor in the station which originally showed banner 3 but later changed to banner 1. In the

meantime I had approached an English couple who were trying to ascertain the same crucial information. W e

struck up a conversation and we boarded together and found a mostly empty coach. I thought it would be nice to

compare travel notes with someone who spoke English. W e entered a coach with one other person, a large

gentleman, bald, shaven but wearing what appeared to be sweat pants. As we settled in, he offered us some Ritz

crackers which surprised but also struck me as very hospitable. He spoke but I didn’t understand what he said. I

tried Italian but he didn’t seem to understand very well. “W here are you from?” we inquired. “Palestine!” I

understood that well enough. “Palestine-Israel!” and he made the shape of a gun with his hand. An English and

an American couple with an Arab in the same train carriage for two hours: this would be interesting but not

relaxing. For most of the trip, I tried to carry on a conversation with the English couple and with him. The

conversation with the former was standard: where are you going, are you touring, where are you from, what do you

do, how many children do you have, where are they, etc. But the Arab had a more compelling story. By some

English, some Italian, by gestures, and by his passport, I pieced together his story. It was sad. He was from

Bethlehem. Of course I immediately wanted to say that my former boss and friend was from Bethlehem, and while

he wasn’t an Israeli but a Catholic of all things, it didn’t seem appropriate to mention it. “ W here is your family?”

“Father and Mother”, and he again made his fist into a gun, shot, and fell back. “Ah this is going well,” I thought.

“W here’s the rest of your family?” “Syria!” “Camp!” He motioned that he had come to Italy look for work–to make

money, rubbing his fingers and thumb as to indicate money; and to eat, motioning eating. “Milan, Florence”–he

waved off. Now he was coming from Messina and again he rubbed his fingers and motioned eating, then waving

off. “W hat do you do?” I asked. He motioned driving and said “semi.”

Page -20-

Doug Kenning

Figure 24 Hotel Olympio

Figure 25 SpanishBalcony

Figure 26 Inner Courtyard Figure 27 Miqweh–Jewish ritual bath Figure 28 Castello Maniace

Kathy and I had traveled in Italy for two weeks. I was constantly worried how to find the train station or the

port or where to store our luggage, but I never had to worry as to where to stay or when I was going to eat. It was

painful to think about what he was going through. W e arrived in Siracusa. He shook the hand of the Englishman

and then mine, and I slipped him a 10€. He thanked me and we parted at the

train station. I could only wish him the best.

Doug Kenning met us at the train station. “Taxi or

bus?” “Ah,” I thought. A man who’s as cheap as I am.

“Bus,” I said. He took us to our hotel, Hotel Olympia, gave

us 45 minutes to freshen up, and then lunch. The man has

a passion for history and for Siracusa (see his mini-

bibliography in the appendices). The following was our

itinerary for the afternoon:

1500 ~ 1545. Temple of Apollo. Review early Greek

history and discuss temple architecture. Walk up Via Dione

summarising Byzantine, Arab, Norman, Swabian, Angevin,

Spanish history up to earthquake.

The city encompasses an island called Ortygia (quail-island) and the

mainland. The design of the streets of Ortygia is still in the original plan of the

Greeks. However, the main north-south street (Via Roma) and east-west (Via

della Maestranza) was widened in the 1930s for the parades of Mussolini.

1545 ~ 1645: Tour of Via Maestranza including the Palazzi Impellizzeri (2), Bonnano, St. Maria dell’Immacolata,

Rizza-Danieli, and small touches along the way. Enter Via Alagona, discussing Greco-Romano street plan, the

Jewish quarter, and the depths of the miqweh..

Doug explained that while the city thrived during the Greek and early Roman periods, it diminished during

later periods and that due to an earthquake in 1639, much of the city was rebuilt

during the Spanish period in the Baroque style which is what is mostly seen today.

The miqweh was found during the reconstruction and renovation of a

building that is used for apartments. As seen in this building, most of the houses in

Ortygia allow for no public space in front; the large door was originally built to enable

a carriage to enter into a courtyard.

There was a Jewish Ghetto in Ortygia, but with the Spanish Inquisition in the

late 1400s and later in the 1700s when the Spanish regained control of Sicily, the

Jews were forced to leave (for the Ottoman Empire, I might add). In excavating this

basement of this building, the miqweh was discovered; these are ritual baths, usually

for women during menstruation but also for men and implements.

Page -21-

Figure 29 Castello Maniace

Figure 30 Fonte Arethusa

Figure 31 The Duomo

Figure 32 Column in wall

To Lungomare for view of Castello Mianace and Spirito Santo. Discuss Frederick and Swabians. Proceed up Via

Capodieci, pausing at Palazzo Bellomo and papyrus-making.“

W here there once stood a Byzantine fort, built

by Giorgio Maniace in 1038 as a bulwark of the

short-lived Byzantine conquest of Syracuse,

there later arose Castel Maniace in

accordance with the wishes of Frederick II of

Swabia (1239). The plan of the fortress is

based on an Arab model, square with round

angle-towers; the walls are within the southern

tip of Ortygia."

1645 ~ 1715. Fonte Arethusa. Discuss

Alpheus legend, history of Greek arrival, papyrus, and legends of Persephone

and Ciane. Overlook of Porto Grande to imagine three millennia of events

there. To Piazza Duomo, pausing at Palazzo Medici.

1715 ~ 1745. Sitting at outdoor café, discuss religious history of the site from

prehistoric times, two temples, history of the Duomo, a glance at the other

buildings, and discussion of aesthetics in architecture.

At the highest point in Ortygia, two temples were built by the Greeks: one to Apollo on the left and one on the right

to his sister, Artemis. The temple of Apollo is gone but the temple of Artemis was converted to a Christian church.

The Byzantines added a wall incorporating the columns and carved arches out of the walls of the cella, the interior

building; the Normans added an interior wall; and the Spanish extended the wall and added windows.

…… White willows and poplars growing in water spread their sweet shade over thesloping shores: I approach and wet the soles of my feet and then up to my knee; butstill I was not content, and I unclasp my light clothes and hang them on a willow, andnaked I dive into the water. And as I splash through the waves, waving my arms thisway and that in the air, I hear a strange noise coming up from the depths; frightened,I stop at the nearby shore. ““Where are you going in such a hurry, oh Arethusa?””cries Alpheus beneath the waters, ““where are you going in such a hurry?”” herepeats in a hoarse voice. And I run away naked, just as I was (my clothes were onthe opposite shore). And the faster he ran after me, the more he burned with love:naked I appeared to him to be all the more willing. I ran away like a dove, withtrembling wings, fleeing from a hawk; mercilessly he pursued me, like a hawkpressing on a fearful dove. My strength lasted me as far as Orchomenos, asPsophides, as Cylene, the meanders of the Menalos, the freezing Erymanthus, inElis; but I was swifter than Alpheus. But I could not run much resist further, mystrength was less than his; he was not wearied by fatigue. So I ran and ran acrossthe fields, mountains and forests, through rocks and ravines where there was noteven a path. The sun was behind me, and I saw a long shadow ahead of me, butperhaps it was fear that created it. At the sound of footsteps steps I trembled withfear and the heavy panting dishevelled the ribbons in my hair. Exhausted I cried: ““Iam lost, oh Diana, succour your Arethusa, to whom you so oft entrusted bow andquiver and arrows””. The goddess took pity and wrapped me in a dense cloud. Andthe river, flowing through the ethereal cloud that enveloped me, sought in the cloud;and twice, unawares, passed by the place where the goddess had hidden me, andtwice he cried out loud: ““Arethusa! Arethusa!”” How unhappy I felt in my heart! I waslike a lamb hearing wolves yelping around the fold, or like a hare hidden in theundergrowth, espying the hostile snouts of hounds and not daring to move. But thereAlpheus stood still, unable to see my footprints, and he gazed at the cloud. Andmeanwhile gelid sweat covers my limbs, and trickles drop by drop from my wholebody, and wherever I go, water flows, and dew rolls down from my hair; and in a trice,faster than it takes to tell, Alpheus becomes a river once again to mingle with mywaters. And Diana cleft the earth, and through deep dark caverns I reach Ortigia,which is grateful to my divine name and brings me back to daylight.”” And hereArethusa fell silent. (Virgil)

Page -22-

Figure 33 Piazza Archimede

The Duomo is dedicated to St. Lucy. Her story is included without comment.

1745 ~ 1800. Enter the Duomo. Inner structure, history, aesthetics. To right aisle for St. Lucy exhibit, story, and

chapel. Left aisle for Gagini, columns, and sculpture discussion.

1800 ~ 1810. Proceed along shopping streets to conclude

in Piazza Archimedes.

W e finished the day with a drink at Piazza Archimede,

This piazza is a baroque stage set, adorned by a well-

restored Fountain of Diane and is framed with dignified

mansions.

W e took Doug’s recommendation for dinner: Mardino’s, a

restaurant down a narrow street. As Doug predicted,

there were no menus and no inquiry as to our choice.

W ater, wine and antipasto simply appeared. W e were

asked whether we wanted pasta (“No”), and then what we

wanted for the second course. Mardino rattled off about

five items but I couldn’t understand his Scilian and there

was no sense in trying. “Lei sceglia!” (You choose!) “Io?”

“Si,” I answered. And we had three selections of meat

that were delicious.

W e then walked home along the waterfront and prepared for the next day.

A virgin and martyr of Syracuse in Sicily, whose feastis celebrated by Latins and Greeks alike on 13 Dec.According to the traditional story, she was born of richand noble parents about the year 283. Like so many ofthe early martyrs, Lucy had consecrated her virginity toGod, and she hoped to devote all her worldly goods tothe service of the poor. Her mother was not so single-minded, but an occasion offered itself when Lucycould carry out her generous resolutions. The fame ofthe virgin-martyr Agatha, who had been executed fifty-two years before in the Decian persecution, wasattracting numerous visitors to her relics at Catania,not fifty miles from Syracuse, and many miracles hadbeen wrought through her intercession. Eutychia wastherefore persuaded to make a pilgrimage to Catania,in the hope of being cured or a hemorrhage, fromwhich she had been suffering for several years. Thereshe was in fact cured, and Lucy, availing herself of theopportunity, persuaded her mother to allow her todistribute a great part of her riches among the poor.The largess stirred the greed of the unworthy youth towhom Lucy had been unwillingly betrothed, and hedenounced her to Paschasius, the Governor of Sicily.It was in the year 303, during the fierce persecution ofDiocletian. She was first of all condemned to suffer theshame of prostitution; but in the strength of God shestood immovable, so that they could not drag her awayto the place of shame. Bundles of wood were thenheaped about her and set on fire, and again Godsaved her. Finally, she met her death by the sword.But before she died she foretold the punishment ofPaschasius and the speedy termination of thepersecution, adding that Diocletian would reign nomore, and Maximian would meet his end. So,strengthened with the Bread of Life, she won hercrown of virginity and martyrdom.

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Figure 37 Castello Eurialo

Figure 36 Archimedes’ Claw

Figure 38 Archimedes’ mirror

Figure 40 Tunneled ramp Figure 39 Tunnel in Castello Eurialo

October 7: Castello Eurialo and the Archaeological Park

DAY TWO (a half day+):

0830. Meet at hotel. Greetings and discussion of day’s activities, map orientation. Proceed to city bus to Castello

Eurialo.

0915 ~ 1015. From overlook, discussion of prehistoric south-east Sicily, then the stories of the Greek Syracuse

[texts]. Glory years under Gelon and Hieron I. Story of Athenian Expedition. Dionysius, Plato, and

building of Castello Eurialo.

1015 ~ 1115. Tour of Castello Eurialo. Proceed by city bus to Archaeological Park.

Sitting on the walls of Castello Eurialo, Doug proceeded

to tell us the Greek and Roman history of the Siracusa. W hile the

artifacts of modern civilization obliterate this period, Doug’s tale

brought the past alive so that we could image the Athenian and

Siracusan armies maneuvering and engaging in battle and the

inventions of Archimedes stunning the invaders of the city.

Archimedes is best known for his discovery (Ereka-I have found it.)

of specific gravity: that the water displaced by an object is equal to

the object’s weight and not its volume. Also a military technologist,

he invented a giant arm, planted

within the walls of the city, that

supposedly reached over the wall and

dropped heavy weights on them (see

Figure 36).

He also invented the use of mirrors

to redirect and focus the sun’s rays

on enemy ships so that they would

burst into flames. W hen the

Roman’s finally overcame Siracusa,

a Roman soldier came across Archimedes doodling in the sand,

sketching out his latest invention. He protested sharply when the

soldier unknowingly stepped on his drawing, and the soldier drew

his sword and casually killed one of the greatest men in the world.

W e examined the castle and found that, as at Cumae,

there were tunnels that were built to

enable soldiers and cavalry to move

quickly from one point to another.

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Figure 42 Greek Theater

Figure 43 Rod and Doug at the nymphaeum

Figure 41 Map of Siracusa

W e headed back to Siracusa and the Archaeological Park. Doug

indicated that the distance we traveled, much of it now fields, was once within

the walls of the ancient city of Siracusa, and that at one time it had the

population of 300,000 during the Hellenistic period.

The ancient city of Syracuse spread all the way from Ortygia inland to

Castello Eurialo, and from Scala Greca in the north and the Temple of Zeus in

the south, both now well outside of the modern city. The modern city runs to

Scala Greca in the north and the River Anapo to the south (4 km N to S). East

- west the city runs about 1.5 km wide, now west of the Archaeological Park.

1130 ~ 1300. Archaeological Park. Go to Greek Theatre to sit and discuss

history from Dionysius and Plato to Hieron II. Discuss Greek ritual,

values, and theatre. Tour above Greek theatre to overlook of latomie.

Story of Athenian prisoners. Into latomie for Ear of Dionysius.

Proceed to Altar of Hieron and Roman Amphitheatre. At

amphitheatre, stories of Hieronymus, Archimedes and Roman siege.

Proceed by bus to Ortygia.

Syracuse was colonized sometime in the 8C BCE by Greeks from Corinth, who settled on the island of

Ortygia. Soon this power base was seized by a succession of tyrants. Under their rule, the city enjoyed success

and great splendor (5-4C BC); its population stabilized at the 300,000, and established its supremacy over the rest

of Sicily. Between 416 BC and 413 BC, there developed a furious conflict between Syracuse and Athens. The

Athenian warriors were captained by Alcibiades. So the people endured one of the most famous and cruel periods

of ancient history. At last the city fell to the Romans, and so to subsequent invaders –– Barbarians, Byzantines,

Arabs and Normans.

W e went to the Archaeological Park, as tourist usually do, to see three major sites: the Greek theater, the

Roman amphitheater, and the quarry with its incision called the Ear of Dionysus.

Doug explained that the Greeks saw theater as a religious experience in which the events and outcomes

of men’s lives were, in part, affected by the gods (and goddesses)

and [divine] fate. As such, it was to be open to the surroundings of

the horizon and the sky. In contrast, the Roman’s saw theater

mainly as entertainment, and over the course of centuries, their

entertainment became for spectacular and more degenerate. W e

know of the gladiatorial fighting and the devouring of Christians by

wild animals. W hat we didn’t know that some animals, such as

elephants, were slain simply to watch them die. Rather than plays

that served to depict life or make a moral point, the theater became

ribald and farcical.

The Ear of

Dionysius is named

after the tyrant of

Siracusa after the

defeat of the Athenians. The quarry was

used as a prison to hold, humiliate, and to a large extent,

exterminate the captured soldiers. The shape of the cut is simply a

means of extracting stone without having the roof of the cavity

collapsing.

Above the theater is a nymphaeum , a complex of waterfall,

springs and grottos that once contained statues and niches for

votive offerings. W ithin the same stone structure is a necropolis

instituted by Sicilian tribes prior to the Greeks.

Page -25-

Figure 44 Ear of Dionysus

Figure 45 Hieron II’s Altar

Figure 48 La Basilica di S. Nicolò deiCordari

Figure 47 Sircusan Roman amphitheatre

Figure 49 Sircusa Duomo

Figure 46 Cordari grotto

W e walked down into the quarry where we inspected the cuts made to

extract the stone. Here is the cavernous Orecchio di Dionisio (Ear of Dionysius),

named by Caravaggio after its resemblance to an upside-down earlobe. The poetic

painter fancied that this echoing, dank, weirdly shaped cave, was used by Dionysius

to eavesdrop on his prisoners. It is hard to imagine that these lush gardens were

once torture chambers. After Siracusa’s decisive victory over Athens, the prisoners

of war were lowered by crane into these pits. There was no need to mount guard:

keeping captives alive involved no more than lowering a slave’s half-rations and a

drop of water. After ten grueling weeks, the non-Athenians who had survived were

hauled out and sold as slaves. The Athenians were left to suffer before being

branded with the mark of the Siracusan horse and also sold as slaves.

W e then walked to view the Ara di Ierone

(Hieron II’s Altar), a sacrificial altar once decorated by

imposing telamones (giants).

As we were living the Archaeological Park, I noticed a small church that

seemed to be ignored compared to the grand spectacles that were

featured. Still, after my visit to Anatolia with its Byzantine history, I couldn’t

help noticing this church. It is called La Basilica di San Nicolò dei

Cordari or The Church of Saint Nicholas of the Cordmakers, and there is a

grotto cut in the quarry called the Grotto of the Cordari. The church was

built in the eleventh century by the Normans.

1330 ~ 1430. Lunch in central Ortygia at

restaurant of your choice (I can make suggestions).

W e had lunch at a restaurant along the waterfront. The vegetables in Italy,

especially the eggplant and zucchini, are wonderful as is the seafood that we simply

selected from the buffet. Doug then proposed the following for our third day:

Fonte Ciane: This is afternoon option. We can take the van out there in the late

afternoon and spend an hour reading Ovid and walking the papyrus.

W e agreed to meet at our hotel at 15:30 the next day. That evening we

strolled around the town, and then had dinner on the Piazza Duomo.

Page -26-

Figure 50 Madonna dellLacrime

Figure 52 Spring and river Ciane

October 8: Rod’s Birthday

W e had the morning to ourselves and decided to visit the Museo Archeológico

Regionale Paolo Orsi, the later named after the archaeologist who had done most of

the excavations in southern Sicily. I mistakenly thought the museum to be the Church

of Madonna delle Làcrime. It is visible from most of the city and is a popular

pilgrimage center that commemorates a modern miracle: in 1953 a statue of Mary

reputedly cried and the spot became a shrine in the shape of a giant teardrop. It was

enough to make me cry.

As we entered the church, we met a woman who had just arrived in

Sicily at Catania and had hired a taxi for the day. Racing along at

90mph, the woman looked at the back of her Italian phrase book: “Se

non rallentate, vomiterò,” meaning, “if you don’t slow down, I’ll vomit.” It

worked!

W e then went across the street to the Museo Archaeologico Paolo Orsi. This was probably

the best archaeological museum I have ever visited. It was very well designed, the artifacts

beautifully arranged, and the collection fabulous. I wore myself out just looking at the Greek pottery

and the descriptions/interpretations of the figures. I did think that some of the figures were not

accurately labeled, i.e., the figure was a god and not just a youth.

As with most of Italy, at 13:30 most of the shops close, so we had to walk home, but we did

come across a fast food place that featured chicken, and we succumbed to an un-Italian deep-fried

chicken sandwich and French fries.

W e met Doug and 15:30 at our hotel and boarded his van for our trip to the spring of Ciane. It was here,

according to the myth transcribed by Ovid (Metamorphoses: The Rape of Proserpine, Book 5, l. 409-437), that the

water nymph wooed by Anapus, Cyane, tried to obstruct Pluto from abducting Persephone and, as a result, was

transformed into a spring. Doug read Ovid’s version of the myth.

W hile we had hoped to walk among the papyrus

reeds, the ground was too muddy and so we decided to go

to the town of Noto, it being famous for its Baroque

architecture. As we drove, Doug told of the Allied invasion

of the island in W orld W ar II. Basically the British army

under General Montgomery invaded on the southeast

coast and marched up the eastern edge of the island while

General Patton landed the American 8 Army at Gela andth

march to Palermo then race to Messina in order to beat

the British in the conquest. It seems to have been a tie.

One of the stories that I hadn’t heard is that the British

and/or the American armies embarked on their invasion from North Africa, having just defeated the German army

under the command of General Rommel.

Cyane dissolves to a Fountain

But still does Cyane the rape bemoan,

And with the Goddess' wrongs laments her own;

For the stoln maid, and for her injur'd spring,

Time to her trouble no relief can bring.

In her sad heart a heavy load she bears,

'Till the dumb sorrow turns her all to tears.

Her mingling waters with that fountain pass,

Of which she late immortal Goddess was;

Her varied members to a fluid melt,

A pliant softness in her bones is felt;

Her wavy locks first drop away in dew,

And liquid next her slender fingers grew.

The body's change soon seizes its extreme,

Her legs dissolve, and feet flow off in stream.

Her arms, her back, her shoulders, and her side,

Her swelling breasts in little currents glide,

A silver liquor only now remains

W ithin the channel of her purple veins;

Nothing to fill love's grasp; her husband chaste

Bathes in that bosom he before embrac'd.

Page -27-

Figure 54 Chiesa delCarmine - Infiorata

Figure 55 Cathedral atNoto

Figure 53 Palazzo Nicolaci - Cariatidi

The first wave of the invasion was an airborne assault that included the use of gliders. However,

apparently the navigational systems were not as good as needed to be, and the paratroopers were not dropped on

their targets. Upon landing, one group was confronted with the words, “Halt, who goes there?” spoken in

English–not German. They informed the interrogator of whom they were and then asked where they were in Sicily,

whence they were informed that they were on Malta.

W e arrived in Noto and walked around the city, viewing the various churches. One of them was serving

as a gallery for mosaic floors taken from some villas in the area. Since the 15 century, it seems that the Catholicth

Church has not felt threatened by pagan works of art, and incorporates them into church buildings and allows

them to be displayed under its auspices.

To celebrate my birthday, we have coffee and cake at a bar.

As we drove back to Siracusa, Doug described the operation and impact of the Mafia. No doubt the Mafia

has identified a number of ways of taking other people’s money, but the one described by Doug was simple

extortion. He described a person–or perhaps a family–that had renovated an old building in Siracusa. W hile they

had been approached by the Mafia for a payment, they had refused. W hen the renovation had been completed

and renters were to move into the apartments, a car with explosive was parked in front of the building and

detonated. Doug was in his apartment at the time, and he said that he could feel the blast come in the window.

I should mention that, similar to Chicago in the 1960s, there is urban renewal and gentrification of Ortygia.

The government provides grants and tax incentives to people who buy old buildings and renovate them. The

process is underway, but many old buildings are not structurally sound and the government has had to construct

supports to the walls of the buildings. But we did observe several buildings being renovated. The consequence is

that there is a fair amount of dust and debris, but we did notice a street sweeper in operation the morning that we

left. There were dust and dirt, but there were little rubbish and litter in Ortygia and Siracusa. The same could not

be said of the large cities of Roma and Napoli.

I also told him of my observations of the potter at the Palo Orsi museum. I was not aware that there were

kraters with scenes of ordinary women, not just goddesses, performing ordinary, household activities. For

example, there were three: 1) a woman gazing at the helmet; 2) a woman folding clothes; 3) a woman placing

clothes on a chair. I wondered whether or not this was common, but both Kathy and Doug thought that these

vases were placed in the tomb of a woman and were not common displays.

I asked Doug whether or not he had read criticisms of Graves’ interpretations of the Greek myths, and he

said that he had and would give me some writings. Again, I really appreciated having him as our guide.

Page -28-

Figure 57 Siracusan street

W e returned to our hotel and said good bye to Doug. Not

only was he an excellent guide, but he was an enjoyable travel

companion. I hope that he and I can stay in touch in sharing our

interests in history and mythology.

Too tired to look for a restaurant, we simply went to the

restaurant next to the hotel and it was very good, but we went to

bed early as we realized that the following day would be a long one

as we would start the first leg of our journey home.

October 9: Ostia

W e rose at 6:15 and were walking down the streets of Siracusa for the last time. W e bought our bus

tickets, and with twenty minutes until the bus was due, I walked to the nearest wharf to watch the sun rise and the

fishermen motor out to sea.

W e arrived at the Catania airport, had our usual coffee Americano and croissant, and waited to board. The

Italians have many qualities in the arts, in cooking, and in the joys of life. But efficiency is not their thing. There

was a plan for boarding. Passengers in one block of rows would board one bus while passengers in another block

of rows would board another bus. But the ticket-takers didn’t insure that the passengers followed the instructions.

In addition, the buses left the passengers between the front entrance and the rear entrance of the plane, and no

one directed the passenger groups to the correct entrance. Consequently, some persons to be seated in the rear

of the plane boarded through the front entrance while some persons to be seated in the front boarded through the

rear. Needless to say there was much jostling, and to top it off, the crew discovered that the seating chart used to

assign seats did not match the actual seating of this particular aircraft. They therefore announced that everyone

should just find a seat. It worked but I’m sure the Swiss and German passengers were not impressed.

Figure 56 The Spring Ciane

Page -29-

Figure 59 Main street inOstia Antica

Figure 64 Roman theater, Ostia

Figure 61 Ostia_mosaic_4Figure 60 Ostia_mosaic_2

Figure 62 Mosaic in a domus

Figure 63 Ostia theater and forum

W e arrived at Leonardo da Vinci Airport in Rome (actually Fiumicino) and caught a bus to Lido di Ostia.

Rather than being taken for a ride by a taxi, we decided to walk the five blocks to the beach drive and Hotel

Tirrenia on Via Lungomare P. Toscanelli 74. But was 74 north or south? No one we stopped seemed to know and

we walked one way–the wrong way of course–and then the other. It was a nice hotel

and we could hear the surf–along with the automobiles, buses, mopeds, etc. W e had

a wonderful lunch right on the beach: a salad of seafood.

Then the last outing: Ostia Antica, an abandoned city that had once been the

port city for ancient Rome, visited by merchants, travelers, shipowners, and craftsmen.

It resembled Pompeii but without the tragic ending--not with a bang but with a

whimper. The city was quite large, with about 50,000 inhabitants at its height. Based

upon the map in the guide book, I estimate that we saw about twenty percent of the

town.

W e walked the main east-west street, the Decumanus Maximus, past the

necropolis and toward the theater. Ostia, as with most Roman cities, had a number of

public baths, one of which was called the Baths of the Cisiarii, which supposedly

belonged to the guild of the carters (cisiarii).

W hile Ostia had houses for wealthy families similar to those in

Pompeii (the domus with its atrium (central open area), impluvium (the pool

to capture water and store in a cistern), cubicula (bedrooms), Ostia and

Rome had insulae, i.e., a multi-storied (4-5) tenement blocks built around a

porticoed courtyard.

The theater is one of the oldest existing brick theaters, and after it

was remodeled in the late Imperial age, it could hold an audience of 3,500-

4,000. The main entrance consists of a central corridor with a barrel-vault

leading to the orchestra, unique to the Ostian theater. Behind the frons

scenae or the backdrop to the stage

is the Piazzale delle Corporazioni

or the Square of the Guilds. During

the first phase of its existence the

Forum consisted of a covered

passageway running around three

sides of the central area. Later a

small temple was added (see the

computer-generated model at right).

Page -30-

Figure 65 Ostia Forum

The Square of the Corporations is famous because of its many

references to trade, and to the cities and countries from which goods

were transported to Rome. Around the remaining three sides runs a

porticus, containing many small rooms. In and in front of these rooms

many black-and-white mosaics have been preserved, with symbols and

texts referring to trade. Marble inscriptions were also present.

The inscriptions mention guilds (collegia and corpora), shippers

(navicularii) and traders (negotiantes). There are also many depictions of

dolphins, ships and the lighthouse at Portus.

“The function of the square remains uncertain. The most likely hypothesis is that the rooms were

commercial offices (stationes), where the transport of goods and passengers was discussed. Visitors to the

theater presumably strolled through the porticus. Therefore it has also been suggested that the rooms were

'advertisements', allowed when money had been paid for the restoration of the theater and for the entertainment.

However, this hypothesis leaves the presence of the little rooms unexplained, and is not supported by the

(relatively low) quality of many of the mosaics.”

Mud covered the site after Rome's decline with the arrival of the Visigoths, in

the 5th century. Malaria plagued the population, and eventually the city was

abandoned. Much of its beauty was pillaged for building materials. Excavations

began around the turn of this century.

October 10: Return Home and reflections

As I anticipated, Rome was difficult as we did not know how far and how

long it took to travel to various places. I failed to adequately plan walking tours and

so when we did so, we often became lost or failed to track our way on the city map thereby losing our way and/or

failing to determine the most efficient route. W as I to do it over, I would contract with a tour company for the days

in Rome including daily tours and hotels. I would contract for the tour company to pick us up at the hotel for each

tour.

I would not take the time and effort to travel the Amalfi coast. It is very nice, but it took a long time to

travel there from Rome, and the Circumvesuviana should be avoided at all cost. Pompeii is a must (although

Ostia Antica is just as good and with less crowds and convenient to Rome) if one is headed south, but I would stay

near Pompeii and if one is bent on seeing the Amalfi coast, simply take a one day tour. Again, I would contract for

a tour of Pompeii that included a bus that picked one up at the hotel.

Obviously seeing Cumae and Baia is difficult without a private vehicle. There are tours for this area and

again I would contract with a tour company.

Unless there are sites in Napoli with which you are familiar and wish to see, such as a museum or certain

historic buildings, the preoccupation with pickpockets and the noise and dirt of the city are not worth a casual tour.

The most enjoyable part of our trip was Sicily. If one just wants to see the major cities, then a tour is the

way to go. But if you want to take a leisurely tour and spend as much time as you would like in various cities and

sites, then I would rent a vehicle. And of course, I would use a guide, specifically Doug Kenning. I don’t know

about other guides, but Doug is very reasonable (actually cheap), can find reasonable accommodations, and tell

you all you want to know about history, architecture, mores, and politics.

I studied Italian for about six months prior to our trip. W hile I could not carry on a fluent conversation with

anyone nor could I understand a conversation in Italian, I was able to explain our needs and desires, such as

wanting to purchase two tickets or asking where was to find our hotel. The need to speak Italian is not necessary,

especially in the large cities such as Rome, but certainly in Baia, Napoli and Sicily, it was a great benefit. I also felt

that we were treated a little better and more friendly when I tried to express myself in their language. I certainly felt

more comfortable. However, I do admit that when I could not think of the Italian word or phrase, I would resort to

English but with an Italian accent! How moronic!

Page -31-

I was told that there are five great cuisines in the world; I think these would include French, Italian and

Turkish. Italian cuisine seems to bring out the natural flavor of food. [I’ve heard that French cuisine is an art in that

it makes flavors better than nature.] At restaurants and trattorias, one is presented with a menu that lists antipasto,

first course (pasta), second course (fish or carne), and dessert (dolce). I couldn’t image eating and first and

second course, and so we usually skipped the pasta. The men on the Trinacria had all four courses including a

full bowl of pasta senza tomato sauce. The fish was always fresh and always prepared with seasonings. The fish

never tasted ‘fishy.’

As I said, I could not carry on a conversation with Italians, and I think that my only incentive for continuing

to learn Italian would be to understand the extended and often vigorous conversations of the men. In Italy–and

Sicily–men talk. They are talking in small groups in the street, around tables in cafés, and in the bars. I did ask

Doug the topics of these conversations, and he said tersely: “soccer or their wives.” W hen we traveled in Italy

thirty years ago, I believe we saw more men in suits and ties; certainly the trend toward more casual dress is in

Italy as well as America.

Speaking of bars, the term denotes a coffee bar with pastries, not liquor. W e saw a few “American” type

bars, and often they were designated as such. Italians seem to drink coffee, or more precisely, caffé, which

means expresso in our terms. To receive our type coffee, one should say “coffee Americano,” or “coffee lungo.”

W hile women are public figures, meaning, they are seen in public, and even in the evening, [as opposed

to countries such as Greece and Turkey where women are rarely seen in public places and never after dark].

However, we did not see them in groups as we did men. It is not unusual to see a family, again, in contrast to

Greece and Turkey.

The current fashions did catch our eye. For the most part, denim jackets and pants are de rigueur. In

many instances, designs were added to the backs of the jacket and/or the pant-leg; the effect reminded one of

teenage gangs of the 1950s. Another fashion item was the tight top, probably made of stretch nylon or other

synthetic material, a high cut midriff, and low-cut pants, thereby exposing the navel in the front and usually the

upper part of the panties in the rear. An extra measure of trashiness could be added with a low neckline allowing

exposure of the bra.

On a more personal note, Italian women have a beautiful olive complexion and dark, thick hair (although

being a man, there is no guarantee that either of these features is natural).

It is customary for American tourists to comment on the wantonness of Italian driving customs and the

apparent lack of any rules of the road. W hile we didn’t participate in this excitement, we did make observations as

pedestrians, to wit, that Italian drivers were particularly patient and courteous. For example, on our return from

Pompeii by bus, another driver had parked his bus near a hairpin turn causing our driver to back up once or twice

to negotiate the 180Eturn. I thought the other driver to be inconsiderate and worthy of at least a stern look; an

American driver would have communicated his/her irritation with a verbal assault and perhaps choice word in sign

language. But our driver merely maneuvered his vehicle.

In Rome we were told that to cross a street, one merely steps into the path of oncoming traffic with the assurance

that the drivers will slow or stop until one has passed. W e did observe this courtesy, but like Thompson’s gazelle’s

on the African plain, where the instinct to run at the sight of a cheetah is programmed in the genes, we always felt

compelled to scurry across.

I shared our observations with Doug, our guide, and raised the issue of Italian driving behavior. It was his belief

that the Italian system is completely different from the American/W estern system. In the latter, the behavior is

based upon a legal system: there are strict rules of the road. Theoretically, if everyone follows the rules, there

should be no mishaps and no “injustices.” In addition to rules, there is an enforcement mechanism with oversight

(police) and incentives, i.e., penalties (fines, license suspensions, jail). In the Italian system, there are guidelines

rather than rules, and there is no enforcement. Instead behavior is based upon personal relations in which each

driver negotiates his/her position with every other driver. No doubt this negotiation is a subtle affair, and how this

negotiation takes place is probably difficult to discern for an outsider, perhaps like the mating rituals of certain

species of birds or the monologues of some American politicians. One has to be fully immersed in the culture

before one can catch the signals.

Page -32-

One of the most noted aspects of a foreign country is its state of cleanliness. My father’s favorite country

was Switzerland, and I’m sure that it was in large part due to the cleanliness of its public places. Cleanliness is not

a prominent feature of Italy. Rome and Naples are certainly dirtier than Chicago and New York, both in terms of

litter but also in terms of dirt. In addition, Italian cities, even those as charming as Siracusa (but not Taormina

which is clean and beautiful), the buildings are made of stone, either limestone or marble. In either case, they are

grey in color, and while they may not be dirty, they are not white. Some buildings, such as those in Siracusa, have

a yellowish or mustard color that, in a setting sun, seem to glow. But on a cloudy day, these cities can appear

drab and dirty. In many other countries, especially Ireland, England, Germany and Turkey, the inhabitants use

flowers on their window sills to provide color and brightness to otherwise drab buildings.

Pollution is still a problem, although certainly it is less so than it was thirty years ago. Then, one could see

the plums of blue smoke from the exhaust of cars and mopeds. But in cities with narrow streets and many cars,

there is no place for the exhausts to go; and the same may be said for the noise, especially of the mopeds and

motorcycles. Finding a hotel on a side street is imperative if one wants a quiet night for sleep.

Pollution is also a problem for the old structures built of tufa or limestone. I’m not an environmentalist, but

I believe that the water and carbon dioxide from the exhausts form acids that dissolve the stone. It is quite

common to see the lower facades of buildings (including the Roman coloseo) both blackened and crumbling.

W ith all the trials and tribulations, with all the noise, dirt, and corruption, still, Italy is a wonderful country to

visit. There are so many sites to see, so many delicious meals to eat, and so much good wine to drink.

Before our trip to Italy, I happened upon a paperback in a bookstore entitled, Ciao, America!, written by an

Italian named Beppe Severgnini. He is a writer by profession and lived for about five years in Georgetown, a

neighborhood in W ashington, D.C.

It is a delightful book and an easy read. More importantly, it depicts the contrast between American and Italian

societies. Most of the book is concerned with differences of practices, mores, and style. For example, Severgnini

contrasts air conditioning and temperatures: “The first of these was that in American, air-conditioning in summer,

like central heating in winter, is brutal. The equivalent devices in Italy may show a certain restraint, as if they are

embarrassed to alter the pattern of the seasons, but American air conditioning systems are unashamedly efficient.

Hot here does not mean tepid. It means searing. And cold has nothing to do with merely chilly. W e’re talking

arctic. Americans who go into an office, or a theater, or a museum are looking for a violent shock, not a caress.

For those in search of extreme experiences in W ashington, I would propose: the National Air and Space Museum;

Dahlgren Chapel at Georgetown University; and the Safeway supermarket on W isconsin Avenue, where the

goose bumps on the customers provide an attractive counterpoint to those on sale in the poultry section.”

But once in while, his contrasts reveal more cultural differences, which perhaps unintentionally say as

much about the author’s country as the one he is observing. In talking about “how-to books,” he writes: “They

prove that this [America] is a nation of optimistic self-improvers, convinced that happiness is above all a question

of mind over matter. And they also demonstrate that Americans reject the idea that success comes all at once,

without effort, or luck, or a guardian angel, or an influential relative. Often Italians mistake this attitude for naïveté,

or superficiality. But what it reveals is a love of precision and a desire to stay in charge of one’s own life.”

Page -33-

Appendix

Douglas Kenning

“I am Douglas Kenning, a university professor from Virginia who has handed in his

chalk in mid-life and come to live in Italy. Yet, I came not for "la dolce vita", but for the

greatest and grandest of stories, to live where the rocks are etched with our own

ancient footsteps and the baking sun remembers us. I love it and love to talk about it.

If it helps you to trust my expertise, I have a Ph.D. from the University of Edinburgh

(Scotland) with books and articles on literature and philosophy, poetry and culture. I

have a deep and intimate acquaintance with the breadth of European history and the

main current of that history swept through Sicily.

W hat about telling the story? W ell, professors are not always good storytellers, but I have been a professional

actor (in New York and elsewhere), a professional tour guide (Lincoln Center, US National Park Service, and

elsewhere), professional museum guide, and, not least, a Manhattan taxi driver.”

The name Ortygia translates as “quail island.”

The Greek island in the Aegean, one of the

Cyclades, birthplace of, and sacred to, Apollo

(Phoebus) and Diana (Phoebe, Artemis), hence the

adjective Delian. Its ancient name was Ortygia. A

wandering island, that gave sanctuary to Latona

(Leto). Having been hounded by jealous Juno

(Hera), she gave birth there to the twins Apollo and

Diana, between an olive tree and a date-palm on

the north side of Mount Cynthus. Delos then

became fixed in the sea. In a variant she gave birth

to Artemis-Diana on the islet of Ortygia nearby.

(Pausanias VIII xlvii, mentions the sacred palm-

tree, noted there in Homer’’s Odyssey 6, 162, and the ancient olive.)

Figure 69 Temple of Apollo

Figure 70 Ancient archesBasilica di San Giovanni

Page -34-

Appendix C

Chronology of SicilyBCE

20,000 Approximate arrival of humans.

c.8000 Cave drawings made by Neolithic peoples near Palermo.

c.4000 Neolithic culture, with farming and pottery.

c.1400 Contact common with Mycenaean peoples for trade.

c.1000 Phoenicians started trading posts on Sicily

c. 900 Phoenicians began colonies

c. 800 Greeks arrive and displace the Phoenicians and enslave natives.

756 Zancle (now Messina) founded by Italian-Greeks (not a colony).

734 Naxos, a true colony, founded by Greeks.

Begin Greek Era

729 Catania founded by Ionians.

650 Himera (near Termini Imerese) founded by Carthaginians.

691 Gela founded by Greeks.

491-

478

Gelon tyrant of Gelon and Syracuse.

490 Empedocles, Greek philosopher, born at Acragas.

480 Sicilian Greeks win battle with Carthaginians of west at Himera.

Xerxes attacks mainland Greeks.

451 Ducetius takes Catania in revolt of Siculian natives.

415 Alcibiades leads ill-fated expedition to Sicily; recalled.

7000 captives from Athens put into slavery in quarries of Syracuse.

396 Mount Etna erupted.

312-

306

Agathocles, tyrant of Syracuse, at war with Carthaginians in west Sicily.

301 Peace reached between Syracuse and Carthage.

c. 287 Archimedes, Greek scientist, born in Syracuse.

282 Mercenaries from Italy’’s ‘‘toe’’ displace Greek leaders in Messina.

264 Messina asks Romans and Carthage for aid against Syracuse.

Beginning of First Punic War between Carthage and Rome.

262 Carthaginian city of Girgenti captured.

260 Victory at Mylae.

254 Victory at Panormus.

241 Victory at Egadi and Romans now in control. End of First Punic War.

Page -35-

Begin Roman Era

201 Rome victorious in Second Punic War against Hannibal in Sicily.

135 Slaves of Sicily revolted against Romans, led by Eunus.

132 Eunus captured and revolt ended.

103-

100

Second slave revolt; led by Athenio.

39 Control of Sicily given to Sextus Pompey by Antony and Octavian.

36 Sextus Pompey defeated by Agrippa at Mylae in naval battle.

CE

2nd

cen.

By late 2nd century Christianity established in Sicily.

c.255 Slaves revolt during reign of Emperor Valerian.

278 Sicily devastated by the Franks.

End of Roman Era

493 Vandals under Gaiseric conquer Sicily.

535 Byzantine invasion under Belisarius against Ostragoths; Gothic War.

827-

902

Arabs conquer Sicily.

A good web site for the history and description of historical sites is

http://www.siracusa-sicilia.it/english/siracusa.htm

Page -36-

The Story of Arethusa

Still were the purling waters, and the maid

From the smooth surface rais'd her beauteous head,

W ipes off the drops that from her tresses ran,

And thus to tell Alpheus' loves began.

In Elis first I breath'd the living air,

The chase was all my pleasure, all my care.

None lov'd like me the forest to explore,

To pitch the toils, and drive the bristled boar.

Of fair, tho' masculine, I had the name,

But gladly wou'd to that have quitted claim:

It less my pride than indignation rais'd,

To hear the beauty I neglected, prais'd;

Such compliments I loath'd, such charms as these

I scorn'd, and thought it infamy to please.

Once, I remember, in the summer's heat,

Tir'd with the chase, I sought a cool retreat;

And, walking on, a silent current found,

W hich gently glided o'er the grav'ly ground.

The chrystal water was so smooth, so clear,

My eye distinguish'd ev'ry pebble there.

So soft its motion, that I scarce perceiv'd

The running stream, or what I saw believ'd.

The hoary willow, and the poplar, made

Along the shelving bank a grateful shade.

In the cool rivulet my feet I dipt,

Then waded to the knee, and then I stript;

My robe I careless on an osier threw,

That near the place commodiously grew;

Nor long upon the border naked stood,

But plung'd with speed into the silver flood.

My arms a thousand ways I mov'd, and try'd

To quicken, if I cou'd, the lazy tide;

W here, while I play'd my swimming gambols o'er,

I heard a murm'ring voice, and frighted sprung to shore.

Oh! whither, Arethusa, dost thou fly?

From the brook's bottom did Alpheus cry;

Again, I heard him, in a hollow tone,

Oh! whither, Arethusa, dost thou run?

Naked I flew, nor cou'd I stay to hide

My limbs, my robe was on the other side;

Alpheus follow'd fast, th' inflaming sight

Quicken'd his speed, and made his labour light;

He sees me ready for his eager arms,

And with a greedy glance devours my charms.

As trembling doves from pressing danger fly,

W hen the fierce hawk comes sousing from the sky;

And, as fierce hawks the trembling doves pursue,

From him I fled, and after me he flew.

First by Orchomenus I took my flight,

And soon had Psophis and Cyllene in sight;

Behind me then high Maenalus I lost,

And craggy Erimanthus scal'd with frost;

Elis was next; thus far the ground I trod

W ith nimble feet, before the distanc'd God.

But here I lagg'd, unable to sustain

The labour longer, and my flight maintain;

W hile he more strong, more patient of the toil,

And fir'd with hopes of beauty's speedy spoil,

Gain'd my lost ground, and by redoubled pace,

Now left between us but a narrow space.

Unweary'd I 'till now o'er hills, and plains,

O'er rocks, and rivers ran, and felt no pains:

The sun behind me, and the God I kept,

But, when I fastest shou'd have run, I stept.

Before my feet his shadow now appear'd;

As what I saw, or rather what I fear'd.

Yet there I could not be deceiv'd by fear,

W ho felt his breath pant on my braided hair,

And heard his sounding tread, and knew him to be near.

Tir'd, and despairing, O celestial maid,

I'm caught, I cry'd, without thy heav'nly aid.

Help me, Diana, help a nymph forlorn,

Devoted to the woods, who long has worn

Thy livery, and long thy quiver born.

The Goddess heard; my pious pray'r prevail'd;

In muffling clouds my virgin head was veil'd,

The am'rous God, deluded of his hopes,

Searches the gloom, and thro' the darkness gropes;

Twice, where Diana did her servant hide

He came, and twice, O Arethusa! cry'd.

How shaken was my soul, how sunk my heart!

The terror seiz'd on ev'ry trembling part.

Thus when the wolf about the mountain prowls

For prey, the lambkin hears his horrid howls:

The tim'rous hare, the pack approaching nigh,

Thus hearkens to the hounds, and trembles at the cry;

Nor dares she stir, for fear her scented breath

Direct the dogs, and guide the threaten'd death.

Alpheus in the cloud no traces found

To mark my way, yet stays to guard the ground,

The God so near, a chilly sweat possest

My fainting limbs, at ev'ry pore exprest;

My strength distill'd in drops, my hair in dew,

My form was chang'd, and all my substance new.

Each motion was a stream, and my whole frame

Turn'd to a fount, which still preserves my name.

Resolv'd I shou'd not his embrace escape,

Again the God resumes his fluid shape;

To mix his streams with mine he fondly tries,

But still Diana his attempt denies.

She cleaves the ground; thro' caverns dark I run

A diff'rent current, while he keeps his own.

To dear Ortygia she conducts my way,

And here I first review the welcome day.

Page -37-

Aeneas and the Sybil of Cumae

When he had passed those islands, and left the walls ofParthenope behind him to starboard, the tomb ofMisenus, the trumpeter, the son of Aeolus, was tolarboard, and the shore of Cumae, a place filled withmarshy sedges. He entered the cave of the Sibyl, andasked to go down to Avernus, to find his father's ghost.Then the Sibyl after remaining, for a long time, with hereyes gazing at the earth, lifted them, at last, filled withthe frenzy of the god, and cried: "You ask great things,man of great achievements, whose hand has been testedby the sword, whose faith has been tested by the fire.But have no fear, Trojan, you will have what you desire,and, with me as your guide, you will know the halls ofElysium, and earth's strangest realm, and the likeness ofyour dear father. To virtue, no way is barred."She spoke, and pointed out to him a gleaming goldenbough, in the woods of Proserpine, the Juno of Avernus,and ordered him to break it from the tree. Aeneasobeyed, and saw the power of dread Dis, and he saw hisown ancestors, and the ancient shade of great-souledAnchises. He learned also the laws of those regions, andthe trials he must undergo in fresh wars.Then taking the return path, with weary paces, he easedthe labour by talking with his Cumean guide. As hetravelled the fearful road through the shadowy twilight,he said: "Whether you are truly a goddess, or only mostbeloved by the gods, you will always be like a goddessto me, and I will acknowledge myself in your debt, whohave allowed me to enter the place of the dead, andhaving seen that place of the dead, escape it. When Ireach the upper air, I will build a temple to you, for thisservice, and burn incense in your honour."The priestess gazed at him and with a deep sigh, said: "Iam not a goddess: and do not assume any human beingis worth the honour of holy incense, or err out ofignorance. I was offered eternal life without end, if Iwould surrender my virginity to Phoebus my lover.While he still hoped for it, while he desired to bribe mebeforehand with gifts, he said: "Virgin of Cumae,choose what you wish, and what you wish you shallhave." Pointing to a pile of dust, that had collected, Ifoolishly begged to have as many anniversaries of mybirth, as were represented by the dust. But I forgot to askthat the years should be accompanied by youth. He gaveme the years, and lasting youth, as well, if I wouldsurrender: I rejected Phoebus's gift, and never married.But now my more fruitful time has turned its back on

me, and old age comes, with tottering step, that must belong endured. Though I have now lived seven centuries,three hundred harvests, three hundred vintages, stillremain to be seen, to equal the content of the dust. Thetime will come when the passage of days will rendersuch body as I have tiny, and my limbs, consumed withage, will reduce to the slightest of burdens. I will bethought never to have loved, and never to havedelighted a god. Phoebus too perhaps will either notknow me, or will deny that he loved me. I will go as faras having to suffer transformation, and I will be viewedas non-existent, but still known as a voice: the fates willbequeath me a voice."