Our first stop, once we get in the Basilica is the Pietà, Michelangelo's rendering in marble of a grieving mother cradling the body of her grown son who has been murdered by the state. Michelangelo was 24-years-old when he finished this sculpture in 1499. It may be the best-known sculpture in the world.
The room in front of the bulletproof glass in front of the Pietà is cordoned off when we get there, which seems a little extreme, even though Laszlo Toth smashed the sculpture 15 times with a hammer before he was subdued on May 21st, 1972. According to Newsweek, "The hammer blows cleaved the nose from the Madonna's . . . face. They gouged her left eyelid, neck, head and veil. They broke her left arm off at the elbow, and the fingers snapped off as the hand hit the floor. . . .Vatican officials [later] collected more than 50 shards of marble. A few fragments were retrieved from wax drippings from candles that surround the Pietà. Three others were returned to the Vatican by tourists who took them as souvenirs." Toth's brutality reminds me of the brutality of executioners who nail human beings to wooden crosses.
I am relieved when they remove barriers in front of the sculpture. Though we're still not very close, the room isn't very crowded, so we have a good view. The repairs to the sculpture are not visible, which is a kind of magic in a minor scale that reminds me of the magic Michelangelo used to create sculpture in the first place.
Some rooms in the Basilica are for praying only. No photos are allowed.
The black lettering on the gold background above Mari's head--"Hinc una Fides"--continues "Mundo Refulgent," which means: "From Here a Single Global Faith Shines." The tondo (circular painting) above the words depicts St. Matthew. It is one of four tondos completed in 1601 that are arrayed around the canopy above the papal altar (see the black pillars on the right). Each tondo represents an author of one of the 4 gospels. Matthew is identifiable because of the angel at his side (Luke is accompanied by a bull, John by an eagle, and Mark by a lion). They are all 28 feet across, which is the equivalent of three stories of an office building.
The words "Claves Regni Caelorum" in the band beneath the dome are the final three words in the phrase taken from Matthew's gospel, chapter 16, verse 18: "Tu es Petrus et super hanc petram aedificabo ecclesiam mean et tibi dabo claves regni caelorum" ("You are 'Rock' and on this rock I will build my Church, to you I will give the keys of the kingdom of heaven"). Beneath the altar is the tomb of St. Peter, the first pope (and the "Rock" referred to in the verse). The black baldachin (canopy) above the altar is designed by Bernini, and it was completed in 1634. It is 95 feet high--which makes it as tall as a 9-story building. The spiraling, twisting, corkscrew ("Solomonic") columns are themselves as tall as 6-story buildings.
Above the windows in the dome are paintings of Jesus (on the right in the photo above), his mother Mary, St. John the Baptist and the 12 disciples.
Though these photos don't show it, when seen from below, some of the bronze puti around the edge of the baldachin look like they're flying free from any connection to the structure.
Elsewhere, I see a full list of popes carved in marble, which does not include Ratzinger, presumably because he is still alive.
I am surprised to see that some of the paintings featured in the basilica are copies.
After leaving St. Peter's, we make our first cash withdrawal since we left Madrid by using an automatic teller machine at a PNB bank in the Piazza de Resorgimento.
On the taxi ride back to the hotel, Pablo rides in front between me and the driver, and he soon falls asleep. The driver is a small, unhappy, impatient gray-head, who shouted out the window at a crowd of pedestrians who are crossing the road: "Che bella [something in Italian]!" I'm pretty sure he is being sarcastic.
We have lunch near the hotel: bruschetta pomodoro, a giant salate, pizza margarhita, spaghetti pomodoro, seafood pasta for Mari, and a water pticher for the table for 24€. What a deal!
We wait in the lobby of our hotel while MJ made a run to the grocery store to gather provisions for our afternoon train ride to Torino.
We walk to the station and have some concern that our 2 pm departure time might be delayed, but it isn't.
Mari and the kids sit together in our first-class compartment, and I sit across from a white-haired British train enthusiast, who is traveling alone with a map that noted precise travel times and intersections, but he doesn't seem too interested in the scenery, which consists mostly of teracotta villages on forested hills about dry plains.
We all get goodie bags, and Mari enjoys a free glass of champagne.
We arrive in Torino on schedule at six and have some difficulty finding a taxi for 5, but eventually find one that takes us to the Hotel Alpi Resort on a side street a short distance from the Piazza Vitorrio (Venetto).
Emi and Nina promptly get in trouble with the woman working at the check-in desk for not closing the elevator door behind them (the elevator doesn't operate if the door is not closed).
I found this hotel on Booking.com, and it is more like a huge 3-bedroom apartment than a "hotel" suite.
Mari quickly takes a walk in search of supermarket (success) and a laundromat (failure), and then we all head down to the huge Vittorio (Venetto) piazza which opens up onto the river Po.
That's the Gran Madre di Dio church on the other side of the Po river behind our models in the photo above. Finished in 1831, the church was built to celebrate the defeat of Napoleon in 1815.
As it turns out, the streets of Torino are flanked by more than 11 miles of covered archways, almost 8 miles of which are interconnected.
Somehow, every road in Italy leads to a tasty gelateria. Sadly, Pablo and Emilio both drop their scoops soon after we bought them.
My friends at the Internet tell me that that King Vittorio Emanuele I--who reigned from 1802-1821--ordered a mile of covered arcades to be built from his Royal Palace to Piazza Vittorio, so that he could walk down to the Po river without getting wet, even when it rained.Our late-night stroll is a long one, and I stay up until 1:30 a.m. writing my conference presentation proposal. I don't regret the late start.
