travelingidahogirl

Carnevale

I’ve got a few other visits to write about that happened before our Venice trip last Sunday, but I feel the urge to talk about this one now, so the others will continue to wait.

Carnevale is the Italian festival right before Lent (I think it means “farewell to meat”). I guess it is kind of like Mardi Gras (without the flashing). Various towns celebrate it in different ways, but it usually involves dressing in costume. In fact, I never saw costumes in the stores before Halloween—they don’t really celebrate it (although at T’s asilo, they had a few pumpkin and bat decorations; and we did get some Italian teenagers who sort of trick-or-treated at our house—not in costume—but I think it was only because they knew we were Americans). But this month, the kid stores have all sorts of masks, costumes, and confetti for sale. At T’s asilo, they are getting three days off for Carnevale/start of Lent and today, the last day before their break, all the kids wore their costumes to school (T went with Spiderman over the ninja--which he wore to Venice--but he didn’t like wearing the mask over his face. I guess his teachers thought his costume needed more, because when we went to his party today, he had a spider painted on his face and a bit of mini-mohawk in his hair—using sparkling gel, no less).

Although the towns have their own traditions, Carnevale in Venice is THE party. Regardless of what time of year you go there, you will always find masks on sale (though people aren’t wearing them). I’ve walked by more than a couple stores that claim they made the masks and costumes for the movie Eyes Wide Shut. I guess the anonymity of mask/costume-wearing can encourage some extreme behavior (but again, no flashing—first of all, these costumes are much too bulky and elaborate; second of all, they have some class).

Now, I can’t say I’ve gotten the full experience of Carnevale, and don’t know that I will. Most events are elaborate balls (at anywhere from €190-€500 tickets). I do want to experience Venice at night, but I’ll save that night for a less-crowded time. Still, I did want to see the place in party-mode, so we went on Sunday. The festival kicked off Saturday night, but the first Sunday at noon is when they have il volo dell’angelo, or the flight of the angel, on San Marco Square. They string cables from the top of the bell tower down to the piazza, and some surprise celebrity (at least for them, although in 2008 it was Coolio, of all people, a serious break from tradition, which is for the angel to be a beautiful woman), dressed as an angel “flies” to the ground (yea, click the link because you won’t see pictures of it here! And what's up with all that open space!!!!). I wanted to see this.

I really did plan to get there by 10 (remember, noon flight time). I knew it would be crowded and crazy. For various reasons, we were walking into the little square attached off to the side of the main square as the clock was striking 12. And I was foolish enough to think we could still wiggle our way far enough forward to see the angel (oh, by the way, by “we,” I mean me, Hubby, T (on my shoulders), and Louisiana gal—you haven’t met her yet, but she will be my travel companion on many a day-trip, I’m sure). [Picture shows where we were roughly at noon, during the playing of the "Hallelujah" chorus.]

As we worked our way into the mass of people, a few were squeezing out. When I say squeeze, I mean it: squish, mush, press, push. This was body on body, can’t see your feet, hold onto the belt loops of your pals or risk separation. We never did get far enough forward in time to see the angel, but we did see the cables. After it was clear we wouldn’t get anywhere close enough to see anything other than heads and shoulders, all we wanted was to get out. We weren’t but maybe 30-40 feet from a couple of exits, but it probably took us 45 minutes to get out.

We were in a sea of people. We tried to somewhat control our direction of travel, but really we just had to move with the flow. Although I never felt in danger, I can totally understand how people are trampled to death. Fortunately no trampling was going on here. But there were many shouts of “Permesso!” This is the Italian version of “excuse me” when trying to get by someone, basically “permit me to pass, please.” Honestly, I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or give them the “are-you-shitting-me?” look when I heard it. Like we were going to part the human sea for the gentleman asking to pass by? We were a horde of people all trying to get out. Still, they were polite. They said permesso as they attempted to shove the entire mob forward. [Picture below: I had no idea we'd gotten this far forward until I saw this picture--of course, this was long after we'd been trying to get OUT.]

The main problem with the many, many of us trying to exit through one of the few streets off the square was that a constant river flow of others were still emptying onto the piazzeta. (When we finally did make it into that alley [see picture], Hubby was yelling to those pushing by "Don't go! Turn around! You'll never get out alive!!") I don’t know how it was next to canal, but if it was as tightly packed on that end, people got wet.

Luckily, we were all in good spirits throughout the ordeal. It was definitely an adventure. Maybe the press of unknown human flesh is a familiar feeling for the mosh-pit crowd, but it was totally new to me. T was a great trooper. I had had the brilliant split-second decision to stop and buy a pear for him about two blocks from the absolute craziness, so he wasn’t starving and cranky. Plus, it probably helped that he could actually see something, riding high as he was. Still, by the end of it, he was asking to get down, but unless I was willing to send him body-surfing, that really wasn’t an option. Hell, half the time I couldn’t have even raised my arms.

We didn’t get to see the angel’s flight, but we did get out before the majority of people. This meant we were drinking wine and eating pasta while they kept walking looking for another restaurant. It usually works out in the end.

Traveling to and from San Marco was a lot of fun. We walked the entire way from the train station rather than take the vaporetto (one of the several reasons we arrived too late to see anything). I think it is typically a 50-60 minute walk, but it took us around 80 minutes. But it was fun. So many people were there, in costume, being merry. We’d stop at little squares along the way and T would run around, throwing confetti with other kids. Both T and Hubby bought silly joker hats.

After our lunch, we meandered along Riva degli Schiavoni, the waterfront promenade past San Marco, snapping pictures and eating gelato. Many of the elaborate costumed just stood on platforms posing with you for some coins. At this point, I donned a simple eye-covering mask and put on Hubby’s silly hat, thereby making myself look completely ridiculous. Like I said, lots of fun.

We rode the vaporetto back to the train station. Craziness went on without us.

posted by travelingidahogirl @ 8:54 PM 1 Comments

St. Anthony’s Basilica

Hubby had a day off last month during the week and while T was in asilo, we made the short trip to Padua to check out St. Anthony’s Basilica. We had walked through the attached cloisters on our initial Padua visit back in November (which started with a trip to Ikea—they’re just as crazy here as they are in the states). We didn’t go into the actual basilica then because, well, because I hadn’t read the entry yet in Rick Steves. Is that not pathetic? Ok, it is, I know. But I like to know what I can before I go somewhere. Or usually. I mean, I often will just take random side trips to little towns around here (I’m usually wanting T to take a nap in the car since he won’t do it at home) and I’ll have no pre-set route. I don’t mind getting a little lost because I eventually find my way back home. But in this particular instance, I knew there would be information in my travel books, and I wanted to know it before I entered. Plus, I wanted to know if it’d cost us anything.

It didn’t. (One great thing about visiting churches is the low-cost to free entry fees.)

My trip to St. Anthony’s was only a couple weeks after my visit to St. Mark’s Basilica in Venice, so it was interesting to compare the too. As far as size, St. Anthony’s is also huge. It may be larger—it had lots of little chapels. It is certainly much simpler in its décor. The exterior is red brick with six bubble domes, a central cone dome, and then some spires on top. A marble white Anthony stands over the main door and a circular stained glass window over that. Between those two items, along the front of the building is a covered porch/loggia. The three sets of bronze doors have small relief statues. All in all, a simple, but beautiful design.







The piazza or courtyard in front was fairly busy when we were there on a Saturday in November (with people and pigeons), but it was empty on the January Monday. Along the side streets and around the courtyard, several vendors are selling St. Anthony trinkets. I guess this is a popular pilgrim site—St. Anthony being the patron saint of a variety of things, including travelers, and pregnant and barren women, and is also known as the “finder of things.” This felt less like a tourist stop and more like a place of worship and thanksgiving.



In the courtyard is a Donatello statue of a Venetian general, Gattamelta (who is buried in the basilica—or rather his elaborate marble coffin has its own chapel in there). It is apparently the first large bronze horse statue made in the Renaissance. Too bad it’s on such a high pedestal because I couldn’t really see the detail very well. Also on the courtyard are two small churches—Oratory of St. George (on the left) and the Scuola del Santo.The latter was forgettable (although now I read it has the “earliest documented paintings by Titian,” something Rick Steves neglected to mention! Ah well, I obviously wasn’t impressed.), but the first one was like a mini-Scrovegni, entirely covered in frescoes. It cost €2.50 to see scenes from the lives of St. George, St. Catherine, and St. Lucy. (How do Catholics keep track of all these people? Now I understand why they have catechism. —Ok, clearly I don’t, as I just Googled the term, which I thought was like Catholic Sunday school, but it seems much more complicated than that.) Anyway, it was nice because we were actually allowed to take pictures, no flash, inside the Oratory.

But, alas, no pictures were allowed inside the basilica. Bummer. Another large bummer was that the large Chapel of the Saint inside the basilica was blocked, I guess for some restoration of some sort. Ordinarily, the tomb of Anthony resides in this chapel (it was moved to the other side so that people could still go pray next to it, give offerings, and add pictures of survived car crashes, answered prayers—lots of baby pictures—thanks from the “barren” women?—to Anthony’s shrine) which is surrounded with nine marble reliefs of the Anthony’s miracles. I love reliefs—have I mentioned that yet?—and so I was disappointed as these look like good ones. Maybe next year (ha! I love that I can say that knowing I’ll actually be able to come back!).

Ok, so, St. Anthony’s Basilica. Well, unlike St. Mark’s, you are not immediately overwhelmed when you step inside. No gold mosaic ceilings. In fact, the first half of the building’s ceilings aren’t even painted, which I found very odd—like the place isn’t even finished. I mean they started building it in 1232! And it’s not done? I don’t know. I mean some of the small chapels in the back were frescoed in the early 1900s. But I really do think that if some outstanding fresco-painting artist is out there, they should check into it. The place will probably be around for another 780 years, no?

But the part of the ceiling that IS done (really, more is done than not) was quite beautiful and colorful. Blues, reds, and yellows. I don’t know how to describe it, but there were thin marble colums all over, again, very colorful. Here, you have to see a picture--or two (taken from one of my books...). Architectural Digest, I am not.

The High Altar looks quite ornate, and includes bronze Donatello statues, reliefs, and Crucifix. Sadly, you can’t get close to them at all. There was a service being held here when we first came in, but even after it was over, the whole Presbytery is walled off on three sides, and the High Altar is set back a ways from the front.

Ok, but the real prize of the place has nothing to do with art. Well, not entirely true, but the ick-factor part doesn’t. Chapel of the Reliquaries. Oh yeah, they have relics. Anthony’s tattered tunic, wood coffin, and rock pillow all have their own display case. And then, you walk up a few steps to see the real treasures: his lower jaw, his tongue, and his vocal cords. Yes, his tongue. And you can totally tell it’s a tongue, only it does look a little black and spotted. Apparently its existence is a miracle because when he was exhumed 32 years after his death, the tongue was still there even though the rest of him was dust. I guess it was still red when they found it, but not any more. The vocal chords were discovered intact in 1981! Not having any idea what vocal chords are supposed to look like, I can’t really judge them. But, yeah, a tongue.

The four cloisters, which we walked around when it was warmer, are pretty. Each is essentially a square loggia (covered sidewalk, remember?) around grass and flowers, maybe some sculpture, and in a couple of cases, a large magnolia tree. They made for some pretty pictures.

There were also several graves—coffins along the walls—including Gabriele Falloppio and Bartolomeo Eustachi. What? Never heard of them? How about your Fallopian tubes (females anyways) and Eustachian tubes? Dudes discovered them. My guess is their presence is somehow related to the University of Padova (old haunt of Gallileo) and its famed Anatomy Theater.

Still haven’t been there. Give me time.

posted by travelingidahogirl @ 5:11 PM 0 Comments