tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-57157881120423389632024-03-14T10:52:56.475+01:00Photographing ItalyA photographic trip around Italy looking at its customs and culture, the people and the folklore, the architecture, and the landscape.Stevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07118784664319791048noreply@blogger.comBlogger11125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5715788112042338963.post-40153869955350744602021-05-18T23:39:00.003+02:002021-05-22T11:00:43.594+02:00<a href="https://www.bloglovin.com/blog/21004049/?claim=qfbzfkk564x">Follow my blog with Bloglovin</a>
<p>Wow, it seems like we've been a long time cooped up in our homes with so many restrictions vis a vis getting out and about. No just jumping in the car and escaping the city. </p><p>But now that museums and such like are once again open, I booked for the two of us to go to the <b>Giardino di Ninfa, </b>not far from Cisterna di Latina. I have driven to Cisterna many a time in the past, but not for a while. So knowing I was bound to get lost thought I would leave it to Google Maps to get us there, but it got us lost too. But we eventually found the right route and arrived around 11am. </p><p>At the moment with Covid one essential is booking on line. You cannot just turn up nowadays. So try to get a slot for the morning. We passed by again after lunch and the car park was packed, and if you want to get photos trying to keep other visitors out of your view finder will be impossible when it gets busy.</p><p>You are not allowed to roam willy nilly, an easily followed route
meanders around the garden and every twenty metres or so a well informed
guide will explain and describe the plants around you. </p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b> </b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>THE GARDEN OF NINFA</b></span><br /></p><p>The <span style="font-weight: bold;">Garden of Ninfa</span> is a
landscaped garden in the English style set among the ruins of the
medieval town of Ninfa, near Cisterna in Latina, 60 miles south of Rome. </p><p> </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjybAjgms6h4zvDj4FWLpwcP166W5ulO4mDRGpt_3gsDfE60LHyxyPAdZ19AaunQOsjx76-LvR4nUhj6ZtMwU14j70Y5nH_Eh_6ChLjp0nfhelOMHQ4vdDuVj8gYsiVkHnZxuZA2oyl5r0/s2048/_13A9917_Ninfa.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1366" data-original-width="2048" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjybAjgms6h4zvDj4FWLpwcP166W5ulO4mDRGpt_3gsDfE60LHyxyPAdZ19AaunQOsjx76-LvR4nUhj6ZtMwU14j70Y5nH_Eh_6ChLjp0nfhelOMHQ4vdDuVj8gYsiVkHnZxuZA2oyl5r0/w400-h266/_13A9917_Ninfa.jpg" width="400" /></a></div> <p></p><p>In 1297 the Caetani family acquired the town which in 1381 was sacked
and destroyed following the schism between the Antipope Clement VII of
Avignon (whom the Caetani's supported) and Pope Urban VI in Rome. Even
so, over the following centuries local inhabitants continued to use the
churches of the town, the ruins of six of which are still visible. The
garden itself was created in 1921 by Ada Bootle Wilbraham, English wife
of Onorato Caetani, with the help of two of her sons, Gelasio and
Roffredo Caetani. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW7EIjduUW2d-c8pGfA0PifWNng9dBjVgvXyWKe0evsRuhlTw1zte9ZAJJE7DSl7d8rB939sgi9h82QAd1LCNcTrexEptbxMTgB7OhJwy8W5SV3NZbmofHSx1ve7uyy2zr0IwW6vJdjs0/s2048/_13A9894_Ninfa.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1366" data-original-width="2048" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW7EIjduUW2d-c8pGfA0PifWNng9dBjVgvXyWKe0evsRuhlTw1zte9ZAJJE7DSl7d8rB939sgi9h82QAd1LCNcTrexEptbxMTgB7OhJwy8W5SV3NZbmofHSx1ve7uyy2zr0IwW6vJdjs0/w400-h266/_13A9894_Ninfa.jpg" width="400" /></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC2x4E7IPzl4nfLgOG1P-k8d0TFkdxHW680otrYia8rvCQWEwZCxIJdcv-IvnFnsppckMR136ScLqLjJ7-z6FBdy2h2paHXRTideHXog6STGhou9Td38luqiA7QBCodt8IEUSFu1mVXPE/s2048/_13A9923_Ninfa.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1366" data-original-width="2048" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC2x4E7IPzl4nfLgOG1P-k8d0TFkdxHW680otrYia8rvCQWEwZCxIJdcv-IvnFnsppckMR136ScLqLjJ7-z6FBdy2h2paHXRTideHXog6STGhou9Td38luqiA7QBCodt8IEUSFu1mVXPE/w400-h267/_13A9923_Ninfa.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5s7uS6gkRObnsLOI5N9Wfoa6rIrRlZ34jz_MwzSH-S6QIFn9uv51v9-Pk2FTzSg11k2ZElz7qz4WnBbGqFMB7k0VJnLwNtEqeSaaYa5BwZZpI4ldQ8rsRzilcND30QG2RHaLXoFE1XqU/s2048/_13A9899_Ninfa.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1366" data-original-width="2048" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5s7uS6gkRObnsLOI5N9Wfoa6rIrRlZ34jz_MwzSH-S6QIFn9uv51v9-Pk2FTzSg11k2ZElz7qz4WnBbGqFMB7k0VJnLwNtEqeSaaYa5BwZZpI4ldQ8rsRzilcND30QG2RHaLXoFE1XqU/w400-h266/_13A9899_Ninfa.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRFK05-hx-4gGlw0bg4JFPvhLPeDlvhrc7wY5HDfyFEvGR5ozKlMQ_pWu-tQc-xDrkFc-b4Swuga9e2iEdmXzAM2U0op_gz4czW1MQGrT_CgztPGIcxUfsPhEiTMF7tBne6uRamY8Ev8o/s2048/_13A9906_Ninfa.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1366" data-original-width="2048" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRFK05-hx-4gGlw0bg4JFPvhLPeDlvhrc7wY5HDfyFEvGR5ozKlMQ_pWu-tQc-xDrkFc-b4Swuga9e2iEdmXzAM2U0op_gz4czW1MQGrT_CgztPGIcxUfsPhEiTMF7tBne6uRamY8Ev8o/w400-h266/_13A9906_Ninfa.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNW7Um3TIrWcffpXbud6QmV0Zp-1GiM_tqtsXuLEp8uRsiGMkJuEIg967dO41KoT4X3G9gDHfsa1Zbzf-JQS0cKpYfk-6NQeKsRUwMD66ConaYog2gXbx3qSoxK-LK_NpX8c0Lxuj3-M8/s2048/_13A9910_Ninfa+bamboo+pond.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1344" data-original-width="2048" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNW7Um3TIrWcffpXbud6QmV0Zp-1GiM_tqtsXuLEp8uRsiGMkJuEIg967dO41KoT4X3G9gDHfsa1Zbzf-JQS0cKpYfk-6NQeKsRUwMD66ConaYog2gXbx3qSoxK-LK_NpX8c0Lxuj3-M8/w400-h263/_13A9910_Ninfa+bamboo+pond.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><p>The garden covers eight hectares and is irrigated by the river Ninfa
plus several irrigation streams and is planted with trees, shrubs and
plants from all over the world. Near the church of San Giovanni there is
an American walnut tree, ornamental apple trees, a red beech, and a
Japanese pink-leaved maple tree. Behind the church of Santa Maria
Maggiore there is a yellow bignonia and several rose bushes. The cypress
avenue is planted with erythrina crista-galli, also known as the
cockspur coral tree. In the vicinity of the Roman bridge there are
jasmines, wisterias and a plantation of Chinese bamboo. Elsewhere in the
garden there are banana trees, papyruses, a cedar and an Australian
casuarina tenuissima, a eucalyptus, a star magnolia, climbing
hydrangeas, and a liriodendron tulipifera, otherwise known as a tulip
tree due to its tulip like flowers.</p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSDIr5_i3kzcNDWIgaVKAkcAFRXS_Tb-kpfahaIxH00BaQ36HNc5Zc4_cdO2dPx83UyLrZ6uZTS2KqhP8jqADsQI9LGL-KoUougQOQEYjYFaXNMJUi74chVBE_r5KzlBE3AWcqHMqOBnM/s2048/032D739D-39DB-4046-81A6-47FE3A1BBD51.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSDIr5_i3kzcNDWIgaVKAkcAFRXS_Tb-kpfahaIxH00BaQ36HNc5Zc4_cdO2dPx83UyLrZ6uZTS2KqhP8jqADsQI9LGL-KoUougQOQEYjYFaXNMJUi74chVBE_r5KzlBE3AWcqHMqOBnM/w300-h400/032D739D-39DB-4046-81A6-47FE3A1BBD51.jpeg" width="300" /></a></div> The flower of the tulip tree.<p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUJ_rAK2itwhiGnMX-wYrtl9k5kPKJrJpWP5wiU-75-W-yDyvYQzem1cEH7Kpc9Uw2JL1GInDF-DIuUNNrxKqb7CvZ4nUQJPc_3X7QuyFP5gSvB8rI-GarKHQnBCa2WkF86GBV_LY1K-Q/s2048/_13A9916_Ninfa.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1366" data-original-width="2048" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUJ_rAK2itwhiGnMX-wYrtl9k5kPKJrJpWP5wiU-75-W-yDyvYQzem1cEH7Kpc9Uw2JL1GInDF-DIuUNNrxKqb7CvZ4nUQJPc_3X7QuyFP5gSvB8rI-GarKHQnBCa2WkF86GBV_LY1K-Q/w400-h266/_13A9916_Ninfa.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7vMxRTrK_10k0RBYV1PZ9GomitKgHXInW6ExvyFKaTgzhL2EZ7tv8MdsJVv8_xSNZD9tRQN59vLh8bxL5qmzdqt19YRAknIqkIb6mSzzjnCYY0aSEUWnS7zHG-KzbOlluDGyipLTK4_g/s2048/_13A9889_Ninfa.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1366" data-original-width="2048" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7vMxRTrK_10k0RBYV1PZ9GomitKgHXInW6ExvyFKaTgzhL2EZ7tv8MdsJVv8_xSNZD9tRQN59vLh8bxL5qmzdqt19YRAknIqkIb6mSzzjnCYY0aSEUWnS7zHG-KzbOlluDGyipLTK4_g/w400-h266/_13A9889_Ninfa.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; 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margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1043" data-original-width="3016" height="222" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisDNV8Ib48RX-SAvJNZPpEMLd287o_84tU60hyphenhyphenCljowa4xNGYgV1UIq55BU42nW-oVIxDqO_z1o2kJFnjWAaR8L4BBgwejjXMU09u_Tydq2gOafhqbFfHs2lA8KGh4pyzMIVckiKtu26o/w640-h222/FFD23DAF-84EE-461F-B05F-F09F9A76023A.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrpdRq1jZq7TI4TVHn5HM2oXJoRJhYsa94zya3mDyvNZXU6oTiExmLk-eklKkNWBLlLYM5scvxehSAfAoBxS4eJhi1idLFap6fXYZx5lJbdOl_YY-8m533xwh5Vg2GE_1Gl_ahyphenhyphenmlSuwQ/s2048/_13A9885_Ninfa.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1366" data-original-width="2048" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrpdRq1jZq7TI4TVHn5HM2oXJoRJhYsa94zya3mDyvNZXU6oTiExmLk-eklKkNWBLlLYM5scvxehSAfAoBxS4eJhi1idLFap6fXYZx5lJbdOl_YY-8m533xwh5Vg2GE_1Gl_ahyphenhyphenmlSuwQ/w400-h266/_13A9885_Ninfa.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /> <p></p>
<p>It is classified as a <span style="font-weight: bold;">Regional Natural Monument</span> and has been described by the New York Times as the most beautiful in the world. The Director of the British Royal National Rose Society said of it, "The site is one of sublime romantic beauty, where time seems to stand still".</p><p> </p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtpXSMdnYwiJh6NOdGS3X1eb27ZCLocV-FJErg14VZ2O0PQLIIHdA72q2g27x_UZY7nl0Gt1p1UwPoigJ5_IfyNJbnpeC2ZDu7jyZs3NuNSAKkNBpkxuIrsQRWNuimMz19lWMuil9zJSw/s2048/82C45E0D-B296-4B12-B1E5-3626A5BF2E52.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtpXSMdnYwiJh6NOdGS3X1eb27ZCLocV-FJErg14VZ2O0PQLIIHdA72q2g27x_UZY7nl0Gt1p1UwPoigJ5_IfyNJbnpeC2ZDu7jyZs3NuNSAKkNBpkxuIrsQRWNuimMz19lWMuil9zJSw/w400-h300/82C45E0D-B296-4B12-B1E5-3626A5BF2E52.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><span class="ILfuVd"><span class="hgKElc">Bottlebrush<b> </b></span></span><span class="ILfuVd"><span class="hgKElc"><span class="ILfuVd"><span class="hgKElc"> flowers</span></span>(Callistemon)<br /></span></span><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"> For booking, and how to get there, go to the website:</p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.giardinodininfa.eu/" target="_blank">www.giardinodininfa.eu </a><br /></p><p><br /></p>
Stevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07118784664319791048noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5715788112042338963.post-83648066756032322502014-11-30T20:20:00.001+01:002021-05-19T11:22:08.091+02:00Buddhist Temple in RomeThere’s no doubting that Rome with the Vatican is the centre of the Catholic world, pretty much therefore the Christian world. But that doesn’t mean that there is no room for other religions. Rome is the site of Europe’s largest mosque, and is also home to the oldest Jewish population in Europe. In the last fifteen or so years Italy has seen an increase in immigration, just as many other countries in Europe. A significant immigrant community are from China, Taiwan and South-East Asia. So other places of worship are springing up in Rome. In fact Buddhism has also gained many Italian followers, and in fact is the third religion in Italy after Christianity and Islam. So it is appropriate that Rome can now boast the largest Buddhist Temple in Europe too.The Hua Yi Si Temple is rather incongruously situated in an industrial zone just off the Via Prenestina and surrounded by warehouses and distribution centres supplying the Chinese restaurants and stores in Rome. Most of the signs outside these great sheds are in Chinese. The temple, whose mother Temple is the Chunk Tai Chan Monastery in Taiwan, is run by four very devote, discrete and <i>simpatiche</i> Buddhist nuns. Built in a very traditional oriental style as a one storey pagoda, behind the solid metal gates all is tranquillity. Two marble lions stand guard at the entrance from which a smiling Buddha beams benevolently at the visitor. <br />
The founder of the order is The Grand Master Wei Chueh, whose large photograph is hung on one of the walls. Those attending the temple will be taught the four cardinal precepts:- “Treat the aged with respect; the young with gentleness; others with harmony and conduct your affairs with honesty.”<br />
The temple opens its doors to the faithful and the curious on Sundays at 11am.<br />
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Contacts:- Associazione Buddhista Hua Yi Si<br />
Via dell’Omo, 142<br />
00155 Roma<br />
Tel. 06.22428876<br />
Link:- <a href="http://www.paesesera.it/Societa/Il-piu-grande-tempio-buddhista-d-Europa-tra-i-capannoni-della-Chinatown-romana" target="_blank">Paesasera Tempio Buddhisto a Roma</a> <br />
<a href="http://buddhismo.forumfree.it/?t=65976408" target="_blank">buddhismo.forumfree.it</a>Stevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07118784664319791048noreply@blogger.com0Via Dell Omo, 142, 00155 Roma, Italy41.8877538 12.61136320000002841.8847988 12.606320700000028 41.8907088 12.616405700000028tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5715788112042338963.post-70439608931791827292011-10-25T18:20:00.003+02:002011-10-25T19:38:31.493+02:00Vesuvius<div style="text-align: justify;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkEuAuwkUz3UwnqcffSY50EBmab624QXPwbrnAFS1IKRsT5NyDHJPZRmvAjy8guWbWdQ2w3RiN5wOkBtw7vr0FAgaM95a-ibxFvN3epPhteMO41blMlgyr3uPlLpyQZcxvaP0bobM-3-k/s1600/Vesuvius_2809+FB+copy.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkEuAuwkUz3UwnqcffSY50EBmab624QXPwbrnAFS1IKRsT5NyDHJPZRmvAjy8guWbWdQ2w3RiN5wOkBtw7vr0FAgaM95a-ibxFvN3epPhteMO41blMlgyr3uPlLpyQZcxvaP0bobM-3-k/s400/Vesuvius_2809+FB+copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667469007496310978" border="0" /></a> The sun sets behind Mount Vesuvius after a wet autumn day.<br /></div>Stevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07118784664319791048noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5715788112042338963.post-89748009958745435862011-10-21T21:33:00.010+02:002011-10-22T13:57:51.574+02:00Via della Pace, Via di Tor Mellina, Vicolo delle Vacche.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51);" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9ustvKKHA4jnJSevZwjx10ySPdfW7eAbylTkxivXrDuJJxxA7dtu5eJ3QcmEZkdObbX-I9tbcv_rW49C62RHtdGUxZfk0PKwy8ZOJRTGs0SETpF0alN395uMkj18Q7cNxNijsFEATuDQ/s1600/_MG_2451+copia.jpg"><br /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);" lang="EN-GB">The streets behind Piazza Navona are crowded with restaurants, pizza joints and bars, and hence lots of tourists, and if you are looking to photograph a bit of local atmosphere tourists somehow just don’t fit the bill.</span><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);" lang="EN-GB"><br /></span><p style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">How happy I was then to be able to photograph this group of real genuine Romans who run a restaurant in Via della Pace.</span></p><p style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);" class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9ustvKKHA4jnJSevZwjx10ySPdfW7eAbylTkxivXrDuJJxxA7dtu5eJ3QcmEZkdObbX-I9tbcv_rW49C62RHtdGUxZfk0PKwy8ZOJRTGs0SETpF0alN395uMkj18Q7cNxNijsFEATuDQ/s1600/_MG_2451+copia.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9ustvKKHA4jnJSevZwjx10ySPdfW7eAbylTkxivXrDuJJxxA7dtu5eJ3QcmEZkdObbX-I9tbcv_rW49C62RHtdGUxZfk0PKwy8ZOJRTGs0SETpF0alN395uMkj18Q7cNxNijsFEATuDQ/s400/_MG_2451+copia.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666034768951889234" border="0" /></a></p><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);" lang="EN-GB"></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrMwMQOb1ewCTAKHDv6jFFT2-oNZo9vHu12dEggwJp8QIphyKZHUlC7lhCfaqdnYmvV_A24Jx8lx3f4bsXUOK_B4i88-TlWaDLRVMfol05LaCkF6VKuvjZ1aN2dRquJrFMA7NawExNkvA/s1600/_MG_2460+copia.jpg"><br /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjBe3LiJcXGkq3-FIJ8pwiJHp_FOAMvo25rjJmBGw0Ro4c3K8LsNnzWGRIja1Fsngvq-6ecDsh8txrFxojVHCK3-aEUc3Xq2rg89yhW_AN_voFcz4PAPazY42tfLsdbGYeXxjANKQVNzQ/s1600/_MG_2447+copia.jpg"><br /></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);" lang="EN-GB">They were waiting to open up the restaurant, and so were just hanging about outside until opening time. We were chatting about the films that have been shot there, it being a location much favoured by film makers, and they have witnessed them all, including, most recently, Woody Allen’s upcoming (for 2012) film “The Bop Decameron” which he was in Rome shooting this August. Watch out for them in the film as I think they will make an appearance. Before him the stomach churning Eat Pray Love with Julie Roberts played out several scenes there, and among Italian films an unforgetable Alberto Sordi in Il Marchese Del Grillo and the 1961 film, “I Fantasmi di Roma.” (Ghosts of Rome) with Eduardo De Filippo, Vittorio Gassman and Marcello Mastroianni, three of the greatest Italian actors of the time (let’s face it, probably still).</span> <p style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Asking strangers if you can take their photo is problematic for a lot of people, and sometimes the moment would be gone if you did, like the picture of the little girl drinking at the fountain while she is photographed, probably by her grandmother, while her mum looks on.</span></p><p style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></p><p style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);" class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrMwMQOb1ewCTAKHDv6jFFT2-oNZo9vHu12dEggwJp8QIphyKZHUlC7lhCfaqdnYmvV_A24Jx8lx3f4bsXUOK_B4i88-TlWaDLRVMfol05LaCkF6VKuvjZ1aN2dRquJrFMA7NawExNkvA/s1600/_MG_2460+copia.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 278px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrMwMQOb1ewCTAKHDv6jFFT2-oNZo9vHu12dEggwJp8QIphyKZHUlC7lhCfaqdnYmvV_A24Jx8lx3f4bsXUOK_B4i88-TlWaDLRVMfol05LaCkF6VKuvjZ1aN2dRquJrFMA7NawExNkvA/s400/_MG_2460+copia.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666034089135091650" border="0" /></a></p><p style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></p><p style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">I go by the maxim that if it’s an irrepeatable moment I’ll shoot first, ask questions later, but if I want to get closer to the person and present their personality then it’s simply imperative to ask their permission. That way the whole nature of the photo changes and in a few short seconds you try to create a very quick rapport with the person. If you have the right subject and you are convinced that something special can come out of it then hang in and get as much as you can. Don’t forget though this is not a studio situation. The best shots come after the subject has loosened up and got used to you, but remember that if you take too long over it he or she is going to get fed up. And always approach and shoot with a confident but friendly air, get your camera settings ready beforehand, rather than fiddle about with them later while the person you’re photographing starts to loose interest, or gets fidgetty. Lastly, don’t get nervous. You’ll pass this on to your subject immediately. So be relaxed and enjoy yourself.<br /></span></p><p style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);" class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></p><p style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);" class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjBe3LiJcXGkq3-FIJ8pwiJHp_FOAMvo25rjJmBGw0Ro4c3K8LsNnzWGRIja1Fsngvq-6ecDsh8txrFxojVHCK3-aEUc3Xq2rg89yhW_AN_voFcz4PAPazY42tfLsdbGYeXxjANKQVNzQ/s1600/_MG_2447+copia.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjBe3LiJcXGkq3-FIJ8pwiJHp_FOAMvo25rjJmBGw0Ro4c3K8LsNnzWGRIja1Fsngvq-6ecDsh8txrFxojVHCK3-aEUc3Xq2rg89yhW_AN_voFcz4PAPazY42tfLsdbGYeXxjANKQVNzQ/s400/_MG_2447+copia.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5666034098918486178" border="0" /></a></p>Stevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07118784664319791048noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5715788112042338963.post-13982276086122227842010-05-17T10:15:00.012+02:002010-05-19T09:23:15.104+02:00Santa Rosa 2009 and the Fiori del Cielo<span style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLJGu8uSmAY7iyvq986eHYkFzeGWcW7RLwAM4kSdWeCp8j3lMX2SmKeQgA801K8gF_l2cLhr6JsdOaV4KqcQEYJWOBvQtSKJ-7aHi94GjFwSJ5ugTiUE4mxq5cckISv-SUSdWNy56DMjY/s1600/Fior+di+cielo_4445.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLJGu8uSmAY7iyvq986eHYkFzeGWcW7RLwAM4kSdWeCp8j3lMX2SmKeQgA801K8gF_l2cLhr6JsdOaV4KqcQEYJWOBvQtSKJ-7aHi94GjFwSJ5ugTiUE4mxq5cckISv-SUSdWNy56DMjY/s400/Fior+di+cielo_4445.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472155288602764146" border="0" /></a>Full moon rising behind the <span style="font-style: italic;">Fiore del Cielo.<br /></span><span>The macchina at the first resting point.</span><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br /></span></div>I try to get to follow, and of course photograph, the transportation of the “<span style="font-style: italic;">Macchina di Santa Rosa,</span>” on the 3rd September in Viterbo every year. The year 2009 was a special one as a new machine was about to make its debut.<br />The previous machine, “The Wings of Light” <span style="font-style: italic;">(Ali di luce)</span> had been transported for the last time in 2008, after six years of transportations. For some reason one year more than the usual machine’s life span of five years. And will be retired to a permanent display.<br />Like most people the Viterbese get attached to the things they are used to, and so the arrival of the new machine is not viewed without some critisism.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh2xn0Dps867IbgfFrCFaeHYIrOx3Rd26yNS-nMYQhlteVx9TqTH3pRvgzvYgAPGlb72ngcKCynPXVJDQyNdoJHM8BxsexFf2TW_tlra5n5P7eS752k5jgVpqT7OM1ahPmOssnrLczinw/s1600/PTI+street+4556.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh2xn0Dps867IbgfFrCFaeHYIrOx3Rd26yNS-nMYQhlteVx9TqTH3pRvgzvYgAPGlb72ngcKCynPXVJDQyNdoJHM8BxsexFf2TW_tlra5n5P7eS752k5jgVpqT7OM1ahPmOssnrLczinw/s400/PTI+street+4556.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472160678162385330" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Will it be as beautiful as the much loved <span style="font-style: italic;">Ali di Luci</span>? Will all the lights and whirling things work properly? Will it be stable or will the <span style="font-style: italic;">facchini</span> (the hundred men who have to carry the 5 tonne, 30 meter tall tower on their shoulders or backs over a 1,200 metre route) find it top heavy or wobbly?<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixWL1429Vtyrs3OlaGIKSmVaZAyZdMkPtJzJYwijjksyjPs8b8cmVxS7Na4M0CWlXTymQ42zB3b-7BRVI6R2CB4bSDaWZU-E2t53XPrgd8SvFmRTaXdoanODDN1lB5Y7PMSzxMQIBiZg0/s1600/marching+4223+.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixWL1429Vtyrs3OlaGIKSmVaZAyZdMkPtJzJYwijjksyjPs8b8cmVxS7Na4M0CWlXTymQ42zB3b-7BRVI6R2CB4bSDaWZU-E2t53XPrgd8SvFmRTaXdoanODDN1lB5Y7PMSzxMQIBiZg0/s400/marching+4223+.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472156362106477234" border="0" /></a>The <span style="font-style: italic;">facchini </span>march through the town stopping off at seven churches.<br />This is already enough to finish anyone off, and they haven't even started!<br /><br /></div>The new machine is called <span style="font-style: italic;">Fiore del Cielo</span> (Flowers of Heaven). It’s much more ethereal, organic looking compared to the The Wings of Light which was a more solid affair, and has softer shapes built over a skeletal structure. According to the reports, and to the consternation of some of the other photographers I talk to, the new machine will be lit almost entirely from the inside. We’re wondering how it’ll turn out, as the transportation is done in darkness, and if the <span style="font-style: italic;">Fiore del Cielo</span> isn’t lit, but just emanates light, will it end up looking like a tall blob of light when it’s photographed?<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3Kl6GvRotRSapZkct4s-feGK07zJwXcDxXhH5vloHGBXgt5JbIvrn6Z-imJ34FucdG87j7Mzo6jzls8bZY8RjQrKwcfmmYewogLWpeq3JzWL95sn1aLOeWHVcVOc1oKx0ZQSYUekyBxs/s1600/PTI+faccpray+4232+.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3Kl6GvRotRSapZkct4s-feGK07zJwXcDxXhH5vloHGBXgt5JbIvrn6Z-imJ34FucdG87j7Mzo6jzls8bZY8RjQrKwcfmmYewogLWpeq3JzWL95sn1aLOeWHVcVOc1oKx0ZQSYUekyBxs/s400/PTI+faccpray+4232+.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472156918209443954" border="0" /></a>Prayers.</div><br />Making a new machine is no simple operation and a competition is held to award the contract to the design which best captures the spirit of the long tradition, the city of Viterbo and its much venerated Saint Rose.<br /><br />The winning <span style="font-style: italic;">Fiore del Cielo </span>has been designed by an international architectural firm “Architecture and Vision” led by architects Andreas Vogler of Switzerland and native Viterbese Arturo Vittori.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTvFdKDFXqOJIv5SIfhPPvtQJDiaafvdaIfLDSTf7uEWqGOJ7XRnh9SWhbEc8Y35VFTC785GM7BUo5e-rX_Ye18s5byQWuaCIjl0-G3GtStarW_t9M7cwUyUXFHtmvhVPgzRt9nyNL6yI/s1600/PTI+4489.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTvFdKDFXqOJIv5SIfhPPvtQJDiaafvdaIfLDSTf7uEWqGOJ7XRnh9SWhbEc8Y35VFTC785GM7BUo5e-rX_Ye18s5byQWuaCIjl0-G3GtStarW_t9M7cwUyUXFHtmvhVPgzRt9nyNL6yI/s400/PTI+4489.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472156681399855666" border="0" /></a><br /><br />The base of the <span style="font-style: italic;">macchina</span> reflects architectural features of Viterbo, such as the typical mediaeval fountains (Viterbo has 99 fountains, or so it’s said) and the twin symbols of Viterbo, the lion and the palm. It rises to almost 30 metres in three encircling strands holding nine triumphal angels, and is illuminated by hundreds of candles and thousands of LEDs in gold, red, green and ochre. The whole is decorated by thousands of red roses, and is topped off by a statue of Saint Rose enveloped in a cloud of light. It is not only more organic in shape but more technological too, the phasing of the light show controlled by computer, and high up inside the machine 60,000 paper red rose petals will shower down over the people of Viterbo at some point during the evening.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHuA4czo4u3XS3_wH9hAth7LbOE2CRMma8UIHgcKV31SlMeHyYhZ9jyOIdBugPjc8RJr6ghE6SESimQu18TKkYE8ixOLZyG1pISMD2mtDB-QrpFqWQ-uVaTMYpJsrD3tdDHqB3POe5FR4/s1600/PTI+4470+.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHuA4czo4u3XS3_wH9hAth7LbOE2CRMma8UIHgcKV31SlMeHyYhZ9jyOIdBugPjc8RJr6ghE6SESimQu18TKkYE8ixOLZyG1pISMD2mtDB-QrpFqWQ-uVaTMYpJsrD3tdDHqB3POe5FR4/s400/PTI+4470+.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472156533245776482" border="0" /></a>60,000 rose petals.<br /><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl_PTnbeCuONlaBmo1pc9I_e8ATjwrYJr_iEWd-mbDfEmwB8Pn7pza74Jy9Qu3aaOZE__BRg82pFRLb2LJ0-t-px67J1DSk0Kg1-VYrW8ygQF98rDY3gnhgp4Kjtp5R683jws1fwrHKtI/s1600/PTI+hill+pull+4609.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl_PTnbeCuONlaBmo1pc9I_e8ATjwrYJr_iEWd-mbDfEmwB8Pn7pza74Jy9Qu3aaOZE__BRg82pFRLb2LJ0-t-px67J1DSk0Kg1-VYrW8ygQF98rDY3gnhgp4Kjtp5R683jws1fwrHKtI/s400/PTI+hill+pull+4609.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472156924513251970" border="0" /></a>The last stretch, uphill to the church of Saint Rose.<br />Extra <span style="font-style: italic;">facchini </span>join in to pull on ropes.<br /><br /></div><br />So how was it?<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;">The only time the facchini had practised with the new machine was carrying just the framework, weighted with bags of sand, over a hundred metres on a flat asphalted parking lot. Not quite the same as carrying it over the undulating narrow cobblestoned streets of Viterbo in total darkness.<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj50Ie6m2-cPb94EVJ29mRUVSofHeO4-3DBOSmx77n71CYqS9TXpkZtRsxS1oZTk1NhYVQnZbpsJiey0wn1KLYVbmyH4IICJ_Y1nMezLx0pie7acOQr5o5163lIdiUJEj7DUhWhyphenhyphenWckomU/s1600/Facchini+start4394+.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj50Ie6m2-cPb94EVJ29mRUVSofHeO4-3DBOSmx77n71CYqS9TXpkZtRsxS1oZTk1NhYVQnZbpsJiey0wn1KLYVbmyH4IICJ_Y1nMezLx0pie7acOQr5o5163lIdiUJEj7DUhWhyphenhyphenWckomU/s400/Facchini+start4394+.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472156355439072866" border="0" /></a> Running to take up positions under the machine<br /></div><br />So nerves were more fraught than usual waiting for that amazingly special moment when the <span style="font-style: italic;">facchini</span> first take the strain, lift the machine off of its trestles, and take off jitterishly on the first downhill leg over one or two hundred metres.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXOVTC1x5tSigz-SwrO4f3KduhsM6QwywgS2kU0pwFS-yvCRhRpcDPKBCjql3YcEwjhuPNeAajZsQatLgONYEPrbOzgWrMtbFGj1xndsniOFpSfHrPKO1JJf5rcDbsRNrnc03Y0rgktfU/s1600/PTI+last+leg+4613.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXOVTC1x5tSigz-SwrO4f3KduhsM6QwywgS2kU0pwFS-yvCRhRpcDPKBCjql3YcEwjhuPNeAajZsQatLgONYEPrbOzgWrMtbFGj1xndsniOFpSfHrPKO1JJf5rcDbsRNrnc03Y0rgktfU/s400/PTI+last+leg+4613.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472160673362241794" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:georgia;">The strain is begining to tell. The last leg.</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Just before I took these shots of the final stretch I got thrown against the wall by the </span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">policeman on the left, who thought I wasn't going to get out of the way.</span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">Did he think I was going to wait around to be trampled and crushed by </span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">100 men carrying a 5 tonne tower?</span><br /><br /></div>But, one and a <span style="font-family:georgia;">half </span>hours and 1,200 metres later, there is not one Viterbese who isn’t hugely <span style="font-style: italic;">inamorato</span> with the new, and already veteran, <span style="font-style: italic;">Fiori del Cielo.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7SfF6eBy1HoToRL4XI5g5tTw0dpeSk8_J_vO3RNbOcNutBDwPFUXzmlVXTxZ9B5KRjYXYiXcwhkZJZAa8sjSFgJLJ_fKaX0UMmyLMWofQ23WDdzQl9iQDpED8atnQV9uxxarvV6xI9Pw/s1600/end+4618+.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7SfF6eBy1HoToRL4XI5g5tTw0dpeSk8_J_vO3RNbOcNutBDwPFUXzmlVXTxZ9B5KRjYXYiXcwhkZJZAa8sjSFgJLJ_fKaX0UMmyLMWofQ23WDdzQl9iQDpED8atnQV9uxxarvV6xI9Pw/s400/end+4618+.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5472156122138826530" border="0" /></a>Final resting place, it's time to celebrate.<br /><br /><br />Links<br /><a href="http://www.viterbotv.it/video/dettaglio.asp?id=982"><span style="text-decoration: underline;">Viterbo TV web: video of <span style="font-style: italic;">la macchina</span></span></a><br /><a href="http://www.facchinidisantarosa.it/">Society of the <span style="font-style: italic;">Facchini</span></a><br /></div>Stevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07118784664319791048noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5715788112042338963.post-85096223410734434802009-11-21T22:13:00.027+01:002021-05-19T11:24:35.160+02:00Popes and Olive oilTHE TUSCIA HAS ALWAYS BEEN A LAND OF POPES AND OLIVE OIL.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgquRNGkeFA3Rz-bm3iMV2YCd3Mn9fO7pA2vTYrzOwhaNo5E1wdNv15JL5vu1Y0W5kgOuvRL6wCKSG2mfEMGSAqb6mV6OEsAGOd-u7FeolrbxvO0z9vHkY0We0CzF-tbMXkpacg8qz_KkM/s1600/PC035181+copy.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}">
</a>History and good food sit comfortably together in the Tuscia, as the northern part of Lazio is known; at its centre the mediaeval walled town of Viterbo: the city of the popes. It was here, in 1270, that the term which we now use for papal elections derives, (conclave) meaning “with key” i.e. locked in. After two years and nine months of deliberation the assembled cardinals had still not managed to elect a new pope, and so to help them along the burgesses of the town locked them inside the papal palace and reduced their diet to bread and water, eventually removing the roof to force a decision. Adjoining the Papal Palace is the arched loggia, overlooking the town on one side and facing piazza San Lorenzo, with its 12th century cathedral of San Lorenzo and its green and white banded tower on the other.
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqWThxDxnYlOKH0uLH5N2yLcOJnyJ0ggsfK_znQAS09iJSR_nlDINnmIOuCBXDa-kOSRIh5PL1hktkzLMv0-exgagk90DuYsaFCQgvVniiZI2UwOnbCV7EL_c1Z5N6R524RuLuOLIkxBA/s1600/uprt+loggia+015+copy.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img border="0" height="400" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5406668930156175938" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqWThxDxnYlOKH0uLH5N2yLcOJnyJ0ggsfK_znQAS09iJSR_nlDINnmIOuCBXDa-kOSRIh5PL1hktkzLMv0-exgagk90DuYsaFCQgvVniiZI2UwOnbCV7EL_c1Z5N6R524RuLuOLIkxBA/w300-h400/uprt+loggia+015+copy.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 400px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 300px;" width="300" /></a>
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">The loggia at the Papal Palace</span>
</div>From this loggia Pope Clement IV excommunicated an entire army as it passed along the nearby Via Cassia, and by a cinematographic trick Orson Welles overlooked the Mediterranean sea in his film Othello.
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih1IXY94RJ6jaejhBS8bdiOg70hRNoiCJlLjrG8gjVPSlj-EU_AW8-lQMPMNfL5sCFUiwyv8uGfTSAzRDbpVjEA3YQXJHW6b8_Lbt3HNWdjXryw0hGUlCFzE2eurs3ubAWy0J9Ha6YJBQ/s1600/_C025031+copy.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5406668931169006210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih1IXY94RJ6jaejhBS8bdiOg70hRNoiCJlLjrG8gjVPSlj-EU_AW8-lQMPMNfL5sCFUiwyv8uGfTSAzRDbpVjEA3YQXJHW6b8_Lbt3HNWdjXryw0hGUlCFzE2eurs3ubAWy0J9Ha6YJBQ/s400/_C025031+copy.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 300px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a>
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">Cobbled courtyards in the San Lorenzo district of Viterbo</span>
<div style="text-align: left;">The narrow cobbled alleyways in Viterbo’s mediaeval papal quarter of San Lorenzo echo the city’s heyday from the 12th to the 14th centuries, when successive popes abandoned the hard to govern and even hostile Rome for the safety of Viterbo, and the the Orsini and the Farnese families, who between them produced four popes, Celestine III, Nicolas III, Benedict XIII and Paul III, and countless cardinals, consolidated their families’ power through inter family marriages.
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</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgquRNGkeFA3Rz-bm3iMV2YCd3Mn9fO7pA2vTYrzOwhaNo5E1wdNv15JL5vu1Y0W5kgOuvRL6wCKSG2mfEMGSAqb6mV6OEsAGOd-u7FeolrbxvO0z9vHkY0We0CzF-tbMXkpacg8qz_KkM/s1600/PC035181+copy.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCpy0V6sxdqXNPJXpUw2cDCWzEqURiYeQM0EnHyp-mZ02pY0oYJuKp1RvudgR8V4tGmguR7q0BAM-1OXL52RdUHDe_QbQfI09c0acU03XwJB8XlKc7kQYmztZkCYzYsG6G3-8oQADxhfA/s1600/vitarch5020+copy.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5406682788219918274" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCpy0V6sxdqXNPJXpUw2cDCWzEqURiYeQM0EnHyp-mZ02pY0oYJuKp1RvudgR8V4tGmguR7q0BAM-1OXL52RdUHDe_QbQfI09c0acU03XwJB8XlKc7kQYmztZkCYzYsG6G3-8oQADxhfA/s400/vitarch5020+copy.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 400px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 300px;" /></a>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">Winding alleyways and arches</span>
<div style="text-align: left;">The fertile farmland of the Tuscia, of vulcanic origin, makes it one of the most important areas in Italy for the production of olive oil. Olive groves abound all over the rolling hilly landscape. The watery late autumn sunlight picks out the soft green colour of the olive leaves, but other plantations of hazelnut and chestnut suffuse the whole scene with copper and gold.
In the town of Canino, twenty kilometres to the west of Viterbo, the olive harvest starts in November. Here they call olive oil “green gold,” a precious liquid that keeps the frantoi
(the olive oil refineries) working round the clock until almost Christmas. Here Italy’s largest (and Europe’s second largest) fratoio produces three hundred thousand kilos of extra virgin olive oil every twenty four hours in late November.
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</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgquRNGkeFA3Rz-bm3iMV2YCd3Mn9fO7pA2vTYrzOwhaNo5E1wdNv15JL5vu1Y0W5kgOuvRL6wCKSG2mfEMGSAqb6mV6OEsAGOd-u7FeolrbxvO0z9vHkY0We0CzF-tbMXkpacg8qz_KkM/s1600/PC035181+copy.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN60pe81zY9VYOnpqbkZavLl9yj-KG9RzdJdSnPR2aUJH3Vfn518Se1C-2VvVBaTQ9u9ZlIuES-MJnpRnMLyAktmdlKaTjX4CbfQm3x2k7lAAix8Chki2JHwAFndQ8COERE5tSHRzcuA0/s1600/olivtip054+copy.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img border="0" height="400" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5406668922969549490" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN60pe81zY9VYOnpqbkZavLl9yj-KG9RzdJdSnPR2aUJH3Vfn518Se1C-2VvVBaTQ9u9ZlIuES-MJnpRnMLyAktmdlKaTjX4CbfQm3x2k7lAAix8Chki2JHwAFndQ8COERE5tSHRzcuA0/w300-h400/olivtip054+copy.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 400px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 300px;" width="300" /></a> <div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">
An olive grower unloading his harvest</span>
<div style="text-align: left;">Many other smaller specialist refineries produce D.O.P. oils (denomiazione di origine protetta) a certification guaranteeing the product’s origine and production methods. The olives are picked and turned into oil within twenty four hours, and stone grinding methods that date back to Etruscan times are still used to seperate the flesh from the stone and to squeeze it into oil, alongside more modern centrifugal and flaying processes.
Canino prides itself as much for its olive oil as it does for its illustrious citizen of the early 19th century, Lucien Buonapart, Napoleon’s younger, and most revolutionary brother whose support had helped him become First Consul. In keeping with his strong republican views and not wishing to become king of a conquered country like Napoleon’s other brothers, he exiled himself to Canino in 1808, leaving only once, to help his brother during the hundred days. After being captured by the Piedmont army following Waterloo, he returned to Canino, thanks largely to the intervention of Pope Pius VII, who made him Prince of Canino. A title which given his anti imperialist views he never felt comfortable with. His tomb is in the Buonapart chapel in the church of the Apostles Andrea and Giovanni.
</div></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgquRNGkeFA3Rz-bm3iMV2YCd3Mn9fO7pA2vTYrzOwhaNo5E1wdNv15JL5vu1Y0W5kgOuvRL6wCKSG2mfEMGSAqb6mV6OEsAGOd-u7FeolrbxvO0z9vHkY0We0CzF-tbMXkpacg8qz_KkM/s1600/PC035181+copy.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixmS_0uKRUPgwc3gTElO_sDstax72XwzKn3XoxlPjRrzeJ71hDY4oM-YjCzc3pWEMKM0Pdq2DDDH2Vj_ltnREADAqC1T4_5uvuAoLiFT9X3ybPrUcuhAQBQ4sn6ytnq-swcsa8UMAHPNU/s1600/fontana5089+copy.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5406682782439427378" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixmS_0uKRUPgwc3gTElO_sDstax72XwzKn3XoxlPjRrzeJ71hDY4oM-YjCzc3pWEMKM0Pdq2DDDH2Vj_ltnREADAqC1T4_5uvuAoLiFT9X3ybPrUcuhAQBQ4sn6ytnq-swcsa8UMAHPNU/s400/fontana5089+copy.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 300px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a> <span style="color: #33ccff;">
<span style="color: #cccccc;">The fountain in the central piazza in Canino.</span></span>
<div style="text-align: left;">At Soriano nel Cimino the pastel coloured houses clamber up the steep sides of the town to the feet to the "<span style="font-style: italic;">rocca" </span>the castle Orsini, and its impressive rectangular keep, from where on a clear day the Sabine moiuntains are visible more than sixty miles away. All around the castle narrow lanes and alleyways wind and twist, sometimes opening onto a tiny unexpected piazza.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpH2_0_-RWrBRmgJQ12mhPs_N7PYYxqbD8y02pYO_PF8SGloF8NGbGTQrNe-xN-n9X3ALDtUT-9gQk67F54WQJUwUr2y5mby8m8tIFxGp5_neazv74ZzzvtAU9YjBiqj9jsbDFbNjBl4k/s1600/bomahori5152+copy.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5406668937487468002" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpH2_0_-RWrBRmgJQ12mhPs_N7PYYxqbD8y02pYO_PF8SGloF8NGbGTQrNe-xN-n9X3ALDtUT-9gQk67F54WQJUwUr2y5mby8m8tIFxGp5_neazv74ZzzvtAU9YjBiqj9jsbDFbNjBl4k/s400/bomahori5152+copy.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 300px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a>
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">The </span><span style="color: #cccccc; font-style: italic;">"rocca" </span><span style="color: #cccccc;">of Soriano nel Cimino</span>
</div>If the only time you ever buy chestnuts is from a man on the corner with a brazier then they might seem a pretty ordinary dish, but every October in Soriano they celebrate its importance to the local economy and cuisine. More than a village fete, though of course stalls serving chestnut based dishes aren’t in short supply (you have to try the chestnut and chick pea soup) this is a time for the four rione, or neighbourhoods, to get even old scores in medieaval jousting and archery tournaments, all carried out in full period costume.
Not far away the village of Bomarzo balances on a ridge of tufo stone dominated by the 16th century Palazzo Orsini; a later addition to the Orsini real estate, and indicative of the wealth and influence held by this leading Tuscia family.
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgquRNGkeFA3Rz-bm3iMV2YCd3Mn9fO7pA2vTYrzOwhaNo5E1wdNv15JL5vu1Y0W5kgOuvRL6wCKSG2mfEMGSAqb6mV6OEsAGOd-u7FeolrbxvO0z9vHkY0We0CzF-tbMXkpacg8qz_KkM/s1600/PC035181+copy.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgquRNGkeFA3Rz-bm3iMV2YCd3Mn9fO7pA2vTYrzOwhaNo5E1wdNv15JL5vu1Y0W5kgOuvRL6wCKSG2mfEMGSAqb6mV6OEsAGOd-u7FeolrbxvO0z9vHkY0We0CzF-tbMXkpacg8qz_KkM/s1600/PC035181+copy.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5406669328587382178" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgquRNGkeFA3Rz-bm3iMV2YCd3Mn9fO7pA2vTYrzOwhaNo5E1wdNv15JL5vu1Y0W5kgOuvRL6wCKSG2mfEMGSAqb6mV6OEsAGOd-u7FeolrbxvO0z9vHkY0We0CzF-tbMXkpacg8qz_KkM/s400/PC035181+copy.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 400px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 300px;" /></a> <div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">Swirling autumn fog</span>
</div>In the late autumn afternoon fog streathily creeps over the low lying land leaving the town and nearby hills stranded like ships anchored off shore. Somewhere hidden in this fog is the Monster Park, or the <span style="font-style: italic;">Sacro Bosco</span>, (Sacred Wood) the brain child of Prince Pier Francesco Orsini, who had it built in the mid 16th century by the architect Pirro Logorio (who worked on Saint Peter’s after the death of Michelangelo.)
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH_Ot5s6_tqdxkl6Whyphenhyphenkfe1AC8h6OSVnuTqgKqi2s_utdubqSaJo9dcla1qv74xmwK-wXKzw6nLUc1OnN2W-p42fcJnibPyz371DdWknS4-klwfIrPpSkp4GknQeRRLp_5N1pIwd4N-ks/s1600/PC035179+copy.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5406684796133864994" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH_Ot5s6_tqdxkl6Whyphenhyphenkfe1AC8h6OSVnuTqgKqi2s_utdubqSaJo9dcla1qv74xmwK-wXKzw6nLUc1OnN2W-p42fcJnibPyz371DdWknS4-klwfIrPpSkp4GknQeRRLp_5N1pIwd4N-ks/s400/PC035179+copy.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 300px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a>
The park is inhabited by gigantic creatures carved from vulcanic rock, including an elephant grabbing a legionaire with its trunk, dragons, mythological gods, wrestling giants, an orc’s head whose gaping mouth you can walk into, and a house leaning over at a crazy angle. Later, after the death of his wife Giulia Farnese, the prince added a temple dedicated to her memory, which he likened to the dome of Santa Maria del Fiore in Florence. The park gave inspiration to Salvador Dali in his painting “The Temptation of Saint Anthony.”
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfAXKnAeCbuYFY1eCsIk76wP63R8xN3h1uMojrH3FoiA4x1au6X-XO7YZ6s2lXfydIkVOUs1wIgxDWu72PTSl-J0mK9zZ0S5Z3gFejZrI279dzLsDGFiHxWpBbU2TFNTmt-W5a5vAw_ME/s1600/bomarzo+monster+copy.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5406701464710673698" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfAXKnAeCbuYFY1eCsIk76wP63R8xN3h1uMojrH3FoiA4x1au6X-XO7YZ6s2lXfydIkVOUs1wIgxDWu72PTSl-J0mK9zZ0S5Z3gFejZrI279dzLsDGFiHxWpBbU2TFNTmt-W5a5vAw_ME/s400/bomarzo+monster+copy.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 272px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a>
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #cccccc;">The entrance to the underworld through the gaping mouth of the Ogre, in the Sacred Wood at Bomarzo.</span>
</div>Local restaurants serve dishes that not only reflect the traditions and rich agriculture of the Tuscia, but also mix Roman flavours, Tuscan aromas and Umbrian simplicity. In particular the starters: risotto with nettle leaves, unleavened crepes with sheep’s cheese, gnocchi and porcini mushrooms, black olives with wild fennel. And main courses to fully satisfy the hungriest, like agnello a Bujone: lamb cooked with garlic, chilli oil and rosemary, probably introduced by French zuave papal troops stationed in Valentano in the 19th century, or a main course soup of lamb, potatoes and artichokes. Not to mention rabbit, pork (porchetta,) and game.
Of course no region of Italy lacks its local wines, and among many fine wines from Tuscia perhaps the best known is the Est! Est!! Est!! from Montefiascone. Legend has it that in 1111 a bishop travelling to Rome in the entourage of Henry V of Germany sent his servant ahead to reconoitre the places with the best wine. He was to write “Est” (This is it) on the door of the inns selling good wine. Arriving in Montefiascone he so enjoyed the wine there, and not knowing any other way to express his appreciation, he simply wrote Est! Est!! Est!!!
I know, it's just so hard to find servants to send on ahead nowadays, so I can only suggest going anyway even without one.
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhWgsOKumSIKox-BtyF6Uhnsw2mV6QR9sIOsdoHosGbazSFRGAY-GHyAQS1mhqwggHp9-t3glfvhGU2_x7XJeGjpfw6Z5HZNWLc6RHZkSw1guXxUe-3tq8tDeVPEMt92F8cjP3UYkNzQU/s1600/fish5130.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5406669323913100210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhWgsOKumSIKox-BtyF6Uhnsw2mV6QR9sIOsdoHosGbazSFRGAY-GHyAQS1mhqwggHp9-t3glfvhGU2_x7XJeGjpfw6Z5HZNWLc6RHZkSw1guXxUe-3tq8tDeVPEMt92F8cjP3UYkNzQU/s400/fish5130.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 300px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a>
<span style="color: #cccccc;">Marzipan fish for the feast of Saint Andrew (30th November)</span>
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Information
Nice To Meet You
E mail scrivi@nicetomeetyou.vt.it
<a href="http://www.nicetomeetyou.vt.it/">www.nicetomeetyou.vt.it</a>
Tel 0039 333 9522700 - 0039 333 7073786
I.A.T. (Ufficio Informazioni e di Accoglienza Turistica)
Piazza Verdi, 4/A - 01100 Viterbo
Tel.: 0039 – 0761 226666 FAX: 0039 0761 346029
Some restaurants well worth trying out:-
Ristorante Al Vecchio Orologio
Via Orologio Vecchio, 25
Viterbo
0761 305743
Serves typical local dishes, including aquacotta, a traditional soup, pasta with porcini mushrooms and risotto with nettles.
Meat dishes and freshwater fish caught from the two Tuschian lakes including perch and eel.
Locanda la Voltarella
Via Solferino, 25
Valentano
0761 422197
Small family run village trattoria. Serves lamb alla bujone, pastas and polenta.
Ristorante Taverna dei Frati di Luciano Ferruzzi
Via Callarozzo, 10
Soriano Nel Cimino
0761 749083
Lively restaurant in Renaisance palace with terrace overlooking the surrounding countryside.
Starters include olives and wild fennel, orange salad, hams, cheeses, salami, sutrine (crepe with sheeps’ cheese)
Meat and fish main courses.
Caffe Schenardi
Corso Italia, 11/13
Viterbo
0761 354860
<a href="http://www.caffeschenardi.com/">www.caffeschenardi.com</a>
Historic cafe in Belle Epoque style.
Gathering place for liberal intellectuals during the Italian Risorgimento
Pasticceria and gelateria, cocktail and wine bar, coffee and tea rooms.
<small>View <a href="http://maps.google.co.uk/maps/ms?ie=UTF8&hl=en&msa=0&msid=103926532724410924488.000478e8574a1dfba67e6&ll=42.232585,12.192078&spn=0.71177,1.167297&z=9&source=embed" style="color: blue; text-align: left;">Tuscia</a> in a larger map</small>Stevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07118784664319791048noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5715788112042338963.post-37322704313824552152009-09-08T18:24:00.010+02:002009-09-08T19:46:25.794+02:00Quayside in Capri<span style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span>If you’re going to Capri there is only one was to get there: by ferry to the Marina <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Grande</span>. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Doesn</span>’t matter if you’re the president of the Republic or someone under police protection like Roberto <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Saviano</span>, you gotta take the boat.<br />And when you disembark you’ll notice some of these guys on the quay. They work for the luxury hotels on the island, the names are on the caps, and If you’re lucky enough to be staying in one they’ll take your luggage for you and see that it gets sent on its way.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieanppZwvD8WN0N__FQcM4O99waZHcNn24lJMjUYqu-PuM1JIZUm4QVi-o6Nu_okmInl8qDutrNXiHOIfn02ILoM69ZtODgSi1nkOrI3v_IIQ7vwBiWh1Ngt9EheTaFMrBD3suGtn-oCw/s1600-h/massimo_blog+spot.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieanppZwvD8WN0N__FQcM4O99waZHcNn24lJMjUYqu-PuM1JIZUm4QVi-o6Nu_okmInl8qDutrNXiHOIfn02ILoM69ZtODgSi1nkOrI3v_IIQ7vwBiWh1Ngt9EheTaFMrBD3suGtn-oCw/s400/massimo_blog+spot.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379136703482336994" border="0" /></a>Massimo<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><div style="text-align: left;">They are there in all weathers, and all weathers on Capri means sun, sun, and more sun (except when it’s dark of course). I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">wouldn</span>’t envy them staying out under the beating sun all day though, it’s boiling out there; and in the height of the season the ferries come in every ten minutes disgorging hundreds of passengers.<br /></div></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEmwn_257jJQKkCMQNVhtjCr9BakdEbHsH3wdF4uXYVkgryllTp1H_IpbUg8AmEHNlhKh5qZZ8H54mRCYn2mnafGSXQbYE3MTgVWeCO6kgNI42Yci5LTmxbFo0uZY1O6U3Ufdi7DMupWM/s1600-h/Pino+for+blog.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 306px; height: 431px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEmwn_257jJQKkCMQNVhtjCr9BakdEbHsH3wdF4uXYVkgryllTp1H_IpbUg8AmEHNlhKh5qZZ8H54mRCYn2mnafGSXQbYE3MTgVWeCO6kgNI42Yci5LTmxbFo0uZY1O6U3Ufdi7DMupWM/s400/Pino+for+blog.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379134682706433026" border="0" /></a><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Pino</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Many thanks to Massimo, from the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Quisisana</span>, and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Pino</span> of the Hotel Luna, (I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">didn</span>’t get the last <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">chap's</span> name) for letting me take their photos. They <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">couldn</span>’t have been more co-operative when I asked. Hope to see them again next year when I’m back there to take photographs for “<span style="font-style: italic;">Le <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Conversazioni</span>,</span>” an extremely laid back lit fest which is held over the end of June to the beginning of July.<br /></div></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpI8afX44Du1z7UgEFyTIRhSAsCQc5-AbhrTrVzp8Ydec0AFFjpo6cOpl_FGZ44HVKuaT-h_znWtoZ_up4YROxJ3yQCQ3buhZN1YYiSoYt_eYD5CET2pF3Q4kuMPhOvWMttxWI9jxbLZw/s1600-h/_MG_3381+copy.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpI8afX44Du1z7UgEFyTIRhSAsCQc5-AbhrTrVzp8Ydec0AFFjpo6cOpl_FGZ44HVKuaT-h_znWtoZ_up4YROxJ3yQCQ3buhZN1YYiSoYt_eYD5CET2pF3Q4kuMPhOvWMttxWI9jxbLZw/s400/_MG_3381+copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379139064192246018" border="0" /></a>Stevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07118784664319791048noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5715788112042338963.post-41451795621205675252009-08-24T11:22:00.012+02:002010-05-17T15:01:57.647+02:00The “Machine” of Saint Rose of Viterbo.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisIfNOWRxIAYgE5pbZ5EgHv3qqzvxoVsx2KhwtjT4mt-a6qPLuGO1C1EdiFtVeN-WOYjx9mAu_2ZJA9c3mikyoK1MP7EW1qvHoyFzOLt9_dhWqXzWTyFHlih-81E61FghViiB896PUWxo/s1600-h/P9033090+copy.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisIfNOWRxIAYgE5pbZ5EgHv3qqzvxoVsx2KhwtjT4mt-a6qPLuGO1C1EdiFtVeN-WOYjx9mAu_2ZJA9c3mikyoK1MP7EW1qvHoyFzOLt9_dhWqXzWTyFHlih-81E61FghViiB896PUWxo/s400/P9033090+copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373463115644143362" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:georgia;">The <span style="font-style: italic;">Facchini</span> marching through town.<br /><br /></span></div>Asterix was right, these Romans are crazy! Well, they’re not really Romans. They’re from Viterbo, a city about 50 miles north of Rome. For on the 3rd of September, the eve of the festa of Saint Rose, the people of Viterbo are getting ready to follow the transportation of the”Machine.” <span style="font-style: italic;">La macchina</span> as they call it, (i.e. “the Machine of St. Rose” ) is a massive 28 metre high tower, weighing over 5 metric tonnes, illuminated with 3000 tiny electric lights and 880 candles, and topped off with a statue of Viterbo’s patron saint, Saint Rose, and is carried for 1200 metres through the darkened streets of the old medieval town on the backs of around 100 volunteers called <span style="font-style: italic;">“facchini.”</span><br /><br />The tradition goes all the way back to 4th September 1258 when the body of the saint was exhumed by Pope Alexander IV after a series of dreams which led him to her unmarked tomb, and found to be extremely well preserved, the body was transported to the monastery of Saint Damian. With a few exceptions the procession has been repeated each year since; but it wasn’t until 1664, following seven years of plague in the city, that a “machine” first appeared. In gratitude for having survived such a terrible pestilence the citizens voted to renew the veneration of their saint with a machine that would be bigger and and more beautiful every year. Succesive machines have also reflected architectural influences and tastes of the times with Baroque and Rococo, Byzantine, Gothic and even Arabic style constructions, and grown ever taller with each new version, eventually reaching the tops of the houses until the present macchina, built in 2003, towers a good two storeys above the houses and even pokes above the churches along the route, Nowadays a new machine is built every five years but cannot exceed the height and weight limit of 28 metres and 5,000 kilos.<br /><br />The “<span style="font-style: italic;">facchini</span>” are selected in June. Selection depends on being able to carry 150kgs over 80 metres. For twelve newcomers the transportation of 2007 (when these photos were taken) is their first time, but most of the facchini are veterans from many years, and ages range from 20 to over 60. The present longest serving veteran is Guido Politini with 44 years experience: literally, as they say in Italian, sulle spalle “on his shoulders.”<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbI0HqpGyQXDa0rm2w-tO9xWssb2j8yZ9AUMC9XC0o_jL4rMWyDJpfDFdA4MNmhXB9p-JrcubO3PBlDUjPLrePASPFn2fSU7QvsBDLNcoA86hp0lQjwSbglBiWJI5BLPuWn2mR0MkfcoE/s1600-h/P9033105+copy.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbI0HqpGyQXDa0rm2w-tO9xWssb2j8yZ9AUMC9XC0o_jL4rMWyDJpfDFdA4MNmhXB9p-JrcubO3PBlDUjPLrePASPFn2fSU7QvsBDLNcoA86hp0lQjwSbglBiWJI5BLPuWn2mR0MkfcoE/s400/P9033105+copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373463138258337058" border="0" /></a><br />No, not Guido Politini, but no doubt with several<br />years experience of transporting the "machine."<br /><br /></div>At midday on the 3rd September the town is already buzzing in anticipation. Residents of the town centrre have reserved their places by leaving chairs at the end of sideroads and alleyways leading onto the machine’s route. At 3 pm the <span style="font-style: italic;">facchini</span>, dressed all in white, including white bandanas on their heads, and red sashes round their waists, gather to march in procession through the town. Crowds are already gathered to applaud them as they march in ranks, shouting “<span style="font-style: italic;">Vivi i facchini</span>” and the <span style="font-style: italic;">facchini</span> replying with “<span style="font-style: italic;">Viva Santa Rosa!</span>” Another chant is <span style="font-style: italic;">"E' viva Santa Rosa?"</span> (Does Saint Rose live still?) to which the <span style="font-style: italic;">facchini</span> reply <span style="font-style: italic;">"E' viva!"</span> (She lives!) Led by the town band, who will be playing their hearts out to the same tune for about the next nine hours, and accompanied by the mayor and local dignitaries they stop off at the cathedral and six other churches along the way to render prayers and songs to Saint Rose.<br /><br />After all this marching the <span style="font-style: italic;">facchini</span> take a break to eat in the grounds of a local monastery, along with their families who bring along plenty of home made pasta dishes and bottles of wine. Fortified they get their final instructions from the chief <span style="font-style: italic;">(capo facchino)</span> who rouses them with an eve of Agincourt type speech.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcGlqlYdfRp3Z4rPiefvmiDe8NECWsCNzUpPAk3UYciWnw-2xXdssATdj0vRYOjRAS69gG1J7JMzZOXpg7iIBjFWLnBXoJP_91HSonrOgFVlT1I8nB5OGa9RWdugs8IWZB6xuK3xBJPSg/s1600-h/_MG_8876+copy.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcGlqlYdfRp3Z4rPiefvmiDe8NECWsCNzUpPAk3UYciWnw-2xXdssATdj0vRYOjRAS69gG1J7JMzZOXpg7iIBjFWLnBXoJP_91HSonrOgFVlT1I8nB5OGa9RWdugs8IWZB6xuK3xBJPSg/s400/_MG_8876+copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373463117648211474" border="0" /></a><br />Receiving the last rites in the church of San Sisto<br />just before the transportation of the <span style="font-style: italic;">macchina </span>begins.<br /></div><br /><br />Transportation of the machine starts at 9pm. At about a quarter to nine the<span style="font-style: italic;"> facchini</span> enter the church of Saint Sisto to recieve the last rites from the bishop of Viterbo, A reminder of the real danger that the task ahead holds. In fact past processions have not been without incident, the most tragic in 1801 when 22 spectators died in the panic caused when some of the crowd mistakenly thought the machine was toppling over. Sometimes it really has: in 1814 killing two <span style="font-style: italic;">facchini.</span> Though no serious incidents have occured in modern times.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5HjaZ98sppNAgvwpIWb1Uabsbk3xYi9UE8taoW08CsiSxD_AwY4bs0EzLf7r49uzMiykqNO4GO-7rhcTCPNhynHoy52PEXPp802lQBM_GBuHfoLeU5acu7gc7wHMbs6ZlF9mB0u1W5nU/s1600-h/P9033232.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5HjaZ98sppNAgvwpIWb1Uabsbk3xYi9UE8taoW08CsiSxD_AwY4bs0EzLf7r49uzMiykqNO4GO-7rhcTCPNhynHoy52PEXPp802lQBM_GBuHfoLeU5acu7gc7wHMbs6ZlF9mB0u1W5nU/s400/P9033232.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373467023862813618" border="0" /></a><br />Last minute encouragement. A moment of solidarity and nerves.<br /><br /></div>The <span style="font-style: italic;">facchini</span> are tense, limbering up and giving last minute encouragement to each other, many puffing away at a cigarette, ignoring the fact that they’re about to put their hearts into overdrive. Under instructions from the <span style="font-style: italic;">capo facchino</span> and his four deputies, one hundred and nine <span style="font-style: italic;">facchini</span> take their places under the machine, which has been assembled under a scaffolding tower, it hums, like a silver monster from the “War of the Worlds." It really is a machine, even if the motor is the muscles of the men who, with leather pouches on their heads or shoulders to spare their vertebrae and shoulder bones, lift the towering ensemble and march off in step down hill, still preceeded by the town’s band, to the first of five resting points. Three thousand eight hundred and eighty points of light flicker and dance as the machine wobbles on its way, the crowd are in ecstasy, cheering and screaming encouragement at the <span style="font-style: italic;">facchini.</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipzePh3R1N_9ZRtoXP80t5o7a0mhlodA_x9RMrElMj__iD3lsaYxEbOn3G8LxatnPaQskMM6mM3HB7hEPb4niMwsWzO9b-k1MkF0nqmPFgRpmmicpthwFfbOpYCTS9zvJUCdnHXAFo800/s1600-h/P9033239+copy.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipzePh3R1N_9ZRtoXP80t5o7a0mhlodA_x9RMrElMj__iD3lsaYxEbOn3G8LxatnPaQskMM6mM3HB7hEPb4niMwsWzO9b-k1MkF0nqmPFgRpmmicpthwFfbOpYCTS9zvJUCdnHXAFo800/s400/P9033239+copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373463145634184322" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Facchini </span>rush to take their places under the <span style="font-style: italic;">macchina. </span><br />These are the <span style="font-style: italic;">ciuffi, </span>there are 63 of them and they<br />carry the weight on both shoulders and<br />wear padded leather headgear called a <span style="font-style: italic;">ciuffo. </span><br />Others, called <span style="font-style: italic;">spallette, </span>bear the weight on just one shoulder.<br /></div><br />At the first stop in the piazza of the town hall other <span style="font-style: italic;">facchini</span> rush to place giant trestles on which the <span style="font-style: italic;">facchini</span> underneath gently bring the behemoth to rest. Its a tricky and dangerous operation and emotions are running high. A cameraman gets too close and the capo facchino gives him a verbal lashing to remember. Meanwhile, like an exotic bird showing off its plumage, with a whirring noise wing like arches open out on the side of the machine, from which the present incarnation takes its name; the Wings of Light (<span style="font-style: italic;">l’ali di luce</span>.) This year, 2009, will see a new machine being transported.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGNpi8AYz_oCrf81fTw5P4o3F-Tuu0Z_sPhLiLeTL6fL57GjPVA329PjE0CfJZwepYLwSK2JwwN6_5eHsz-pETsDz1mtgmkWN9rbRETIaIu3cBV6il10L3-qS8GmL2ZESBhqrBDmWPIDM/s1600-h/P9033301+copy.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGNpi8AYz_oCrf81fTw5P4o3F-Tuu0Z_sPhLiLeTL6fL57GjPVA329PjE0CfJZwepYLwSK2JwwN6_5eHsz-pETsDz1mtgmkWN9rbRETIaIu3cBV6il10L3-qS8GmL2ZESBhqrBDmWPIDM/s400/P9033301+copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373463883113107538" border="0" /></a><br />Taking the strain.<br /></div><br />A ten minute breather and the machine is taken up again. This time there are only about 90 <span style="font-style: italic;">facchini</span> lifting it, as the street narrows considerably at this point, but we’re also going uphill here. With a lack of pavements on the street people crowd balconies and windows, shop doorways, sideroads and all over any handy fountain. Everything is pitch dark, until, towering over the houses, the machine hoves into view, a rocking, throbbing pillar of light illuminating everything on either side before passing on. The crowd fall in behind as if drawn by a magnet.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjASRNRWmLhuG_h_36H0qRpFn1rsHaH_mvq253bGGxaIOzsxRUgXHWXL1zQWfgdcRb_8cQArXltLeKH3qcOGL6eej4-bi8oxIl7BTsvXlFEUmJXG6DBfjx3tBYBCHif7raJpHhSQBoGTGM/s1600-h/Macchina+di+Santa+Rosa+copy.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjASRNRWmLhuG_h_36H0qRpFn1rsHaH_mvq253bGGxaIOzsxRUgXHWXL1zQWfgdcRb_8cQArXltLeKH3qcOGL6eej4-bi8oxIl7BTsvXlFEUmJXG6DBfjx3tBYBCHif7raJpHhSQBoGTGM/s400/Macchina+di+Santa+Rosa+copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373463127683913490" border="0" /></a><br />A delicate moment as the <span style="font-style: italic;">macchina </span>is lowered onto trestles at one of the resting points.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzRBT3zJ22LDIvAq3qdRXrSRea0tmTL7sVj1YtIv-0GglmB9gjfDho8Zve6w_vnwhvOyg375wRE79tw2Noa4QU25j8CojTFTA6E8NlI7kvaZE6PXfDgnMM73C5bltEfGIrjxiPhM6scCk/s1600-h/P9033277+copy.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 284px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzRBT3zJ22LDIvAq3qdRXrSRea0tmTL7sVj1YtIv-0GglmB9gjfDho8Zve6w_vnwhvOyg375wRE79tw2Noa4QU25j8CojTFTA6E8NlI7kvaZE6PXfDgnMM73C5bltEfGIrjxiPhM6scCk/s400/P9033277+copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373463862338577058" border="0" /></a><br />Negotiating the narrow streets.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXlqyIKne1gRDXYMlIPqU70pjAVVLshtkKzEQv1_GxqE_JPCCG1XPu29osd7UXJuMfNRLD7vBht5Ui3FFlltqZdx5Mok272-iqyMcaFc2JgvZKdm7UbXDxMEuB1E75fJHpjwgK_wvvJg8/s1600-h/P9033286+copy.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 336px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXlqyIKne1gRDXYMlIPqU70pjAVVLshtkKzEQv1_GxqE_JPCCG1XPu29osd7UXJuMfNRLD7vBht5Ui3FFlltqZdx5Mok272-iqyMcaFc2JgvZKdm7UbXDxMEuB1E75fJHpjwgK_wvvJg8/s400/P9033286+copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373463865408207282" border="0" /></a>The streets are plunged into darkness.<br />The machine passes like a beacon in the night.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Slowly the machine makes its way through the streets. An hour or so later, after three more stops, it emerges into Piazza Verdi where the biggest crowds are. The <span style="font-style: italic;">facchini</span> turn it around 360 degrees to to line it up ready for the last and most demanding leg. The end is in sight. The final destination is in front of the church of Santa Rosa, where the body of the saint now rests.<br /></div></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4qifztzvkD9LZj7_wBPdps3nDJL6wHJoaMTbL1CmGz8iIl7M33_bx1FJF4HknkUbc5W_lPZWyhaBtAyH7UQr6ZinUx4fRmiUORcxoLL5Lmt1NvDjwl-puK1RzN4HfsvY3AKBBJs8Ne1w/s1600-h/P9033298+copy+2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4qifztzvkD9LZj7_wBPdps3nDJL6wHJoaMTbL1CmGz8iIl7M33_bx1FJF4HknkUbc5W_lPZWyhaBtAyH7UQr6ZinUx4fRmiUORcxoLL5Lmt1NvDjwl-puK1RzN4HfsvY3AKBBJs8Ne1w/s400/P9033298+copy+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373463872393986594" border="0" /></a><br />Arriving in Piazza Verdi.<br /></div><br />The road to the church is only around 180 metres long, but rises considerably. To tackle this part extra <span style="font-style: italic;">facchini</span> join in to help, making 149 all told, twenty pulling on ropes and others on levers at the back, the tallest to the rear and shortest to the front in order to keep everything as level as possible. After the capo facchino deems all is ready, the order is given, and they take it at at a trot. They reach their goal in a muscle bursting minute. Once the glittering tower is finally resting on its trestles the tension and the strain leaves the faces of the facchini: they have done it again this year. Now tears of joy and relief take over as they celebrate and hug each other and their families.<br /><br />The city shares in their triumph. The machine will now remain on display for several days in front of the church while several thousand devotees visit and pay homage to their saint.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Saint Rose.</span><br />Saint Rose of Viterbo was born in 1233. Various miracles are attributed to her. Legend has it that the crumbs that fell from pieces of bread she gave to the poor turned into roses. When Frederick II, Holy Roman emperor, besieged the city of Viterbo in 1243, during the wars against the papacy, the 10 year old Rose was to be seen exhorting the citizens to hold out against the enemy and attending to the wounded. Vatican documents tell of a young girl who, while carrying a stone on her head to the defenders on the city walls, had her arm pierced by an arrow, and without removing the stone, “extracted the arrow with her teeth from the wound and delivered the stone to the nearest combatants.”<br />An examination of her body has revealed a wound to the arm which could have in fact been caused by an arrow.<br />She died at the age of 17 on 6th March 1251.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Viterbo</span> (The city of the popes) was the site of the first papal conclave (1270) where after two years the 17 cardinals assembled in the Papal palace had still not elected a new pope. To encourage them to reach a decision the citizens sealed the palace, removed the roof and reduced their diet to bread and water. Quite soon they elected Gregory X as the new pope.Stevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07118784664319791048noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5715788112042338963.post-89567405534692792372009-07-16T15:37:00.021+02:002009-07-18T00:32:50.615+02:00Spooky Churches<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaUeqqvY0EbrcL1CuxY0KU9G6JKvuIwRmbnbpxYHrqcSBSN-EExSpfMNUZ89W6IuTgs3CfEjMkhJFaxOpqtcec7kIqIRJHTrHkXGkXwKTLEe_4R2EZJGC0BVyhtmqLgzgbMUk6dJe352Q/s1600-h/8001st+mary+m+blog+spot.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaUeqqvY0EbrcL1CuxY0KU9G6JKvuIwRmbnbpxYHrqcSBSN-EExSpfMNUZ89W6IuTgs3CfEjMkhJFaxOpqtcec7kIqIRJHTrHkXGkXwKTLEe_4R2EZJGC0BVyhtmqLgzgbMUk6dJe352Q/s400/8001st+mary+m+blog+spot.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359418905269024162" border="0" /></a><br /><br />It’s hardly a secret that Rome has some great churches.<br /><br />In fact, Ernest Bevan thought they had too many, and not enough hospitals, when he visited Rome in the fifties. Well maybe they have a few more hospitals now, but they certainly <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">aren</span>’t as photogenic as the churches.<br /><br />I have my favourites which I like to pop into to fire off a few photographs.<br /><br />Santa Maria Maddalena in the eponymous piazza is one of them. The only <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">rococco</span> church in Rome apparently, though it looks pretty baroque to me. Another is Santa Maria <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">dell'Orazione e</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Morte</span>, (Saint Mary of Prayer and Death) in Via Giulia, which is on one of my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Photosleuth</span> Tours’ routes. A pretty spooky church, and with a name like that it couldn't be otherwise.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ6PM3yJaP-wmUba3obHoGSrQ2dqG_JOdgeCKCKLsLDIiw3Jgm8hT3a2cs8TwGfVCx585ZXgpkLwjBaSbuPne16TUEf1YaAFbCm9DtNJM6Kbo0url0ubtzNvFkCuNaCPUa9K-fi_rWvgU/s1600-h/00062542.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 252px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ6PM3yJaP-wmUba3obHoGSrQ2dqG_JOdgeCKCKLsLDIiw3Jgm8hT3a2cs8TwGfVCx585ZXgpkLwjBaSbuPne16TUEf1YaAFbCm9DtNJM6Kbo0url0ubtzNvFkCuNaCPUa9K-fi_rWvgU/s400/00062542.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359460544814935202" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br />The present baroque church was built in 1737 replacing an earlier <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">XVl</span> century one. It was run by a fraternity that collected the dead bodies of unknown people found in the countryside to give them a Christian burial. An essential requisite if you wanted to go to heaven!<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuV_ShT3su1KUEydqU2aZKhIe5lC8t-4mHh3I91ws8-Jm99cNuCHj4l_OHOCFGznUya2jJ0jbBD_jvYu-1X6ewo3kz6jCvPSKvLOm6P6uGcge9RxBo9ww5xTity8DTNfy1doDPM3N1DXE/s1600-h/8002bw+golsil+blogspot.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuV_ShT3su1KUEydqU2aZKhIe5lC8t-4mHh3I91ws8-Jm99cNuCHj4l_OHOCFGznUya2jJ0jbBD_jvYu-1X6ewo3kz6jCvPSKvLOm6P6uGcge9RxBo9ww5xTity8DTNfy1doDPM3N1DXE/s400/8002bw+golsil+blogspot.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359419163435255314" border="0" /></a>Santa Maria dell'Orazione e Morte, Via Giulia.<br /></div><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9pH3uhO-kaiaeU9Ms2ymjHmP6cmSvQyokIGjno8gUUy9MMeRe8xR19RPSFKIYhR1HFXmJ9TafPQKvq0E_RhIeeohFE925g6tegusk_WMAQBDRGWXaubSAABV9ozfrt0lNBoX5GIAc-7A/s1600-h/mary+mag+1151.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9pH3uhO-kaiaeU9Ms2ymjHmP6cmSvQyokIGjno8gUUy9MMeRe8xR19RPSFKIYhR1HFXmJ9TafPQKvq0E_RhIeeohFE925g6tegusk_WMAQBDRGWXaubSAABV9ozfrt0lNBoX5GIAc-7A/s400/mary+mag+1151.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359499206065416850" border="0" /></a>Above and below: Saint Mary Magdelene, near the Pantheon.<br /></div><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjNRJ2x8dEnhFkZ8_mMbyitaTa-cIuAF9SPOm4DIaPwtNzcxZkMD9JavmTQpaVpEEAPabcaXUR64XUcGG4UC-eYIPUosHPLpqtsnTXva1AnSSqyXf6Wqwnid0bBnGmS78QICAy4aZZZpw/s1600-h/arches-24091.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 273px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjNRJ2x8dEnhFkZ8_mMbyitaTa-cIuAF9SPOm4DIaPwtNzcxZkMD9JavmTQpaVpEEAPabcaXUR64XUcGG4UC-eYIPUosHPLpqtsnTXva1AnSSqyXf6Wqwnid0bBnGmS78QICAy4aZZZpw/s400/arches-24091.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359502817198816722" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Skulls and other symbols, such as hour glasses, a favourite way of reminding all God fearing folk that time marches inexorably forward and that we're all mortal, adorn the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">façade</span> and the interior, and on either side of the main door two macabre engravings remind passers by of their mortality. The one on the right depicts death sitting comfortably on a bench with an hourglass in hand patiently waiting for a sick man to die.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8nd1eGHffhIyN1uOxE5XZki5nFd9_IxRtugiS_qEIANjvo6KtT9H5_EnDZEJPrKdpmlKnpedYpJzGMlm_WiFl4Y9nP1bBFHeBfNQjPM4SW9HOdfRNhbsTj33D4IsrXSc1wfRkTgNBG68/s1600-h/-800wi.jpeg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 297px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8nd1eGHffhIyN1uOxE5XZki5nFd9_IxRtugiS_qEIANjvo6KtT9H5_EnDZEJPrKdpmlKnpedYpJzGMlm_WiFl4Y9nP1bBFHeBfNQjPM4SW9HOdfRNhbsTj33D4IsrXSc1wfRkTgNBG68/s400/-800wi.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359428368947326194" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Death waits patiently for some poor soul to breathe his last. Almost like gathering fallen apples! The inscription says “Alms for the poor dead that are found in the country.”<br /></div><br /><br /><br />Rarely open except for Saturday evening and Sunday masses, so I was surprised to find it open one day in the week and nipped inside and took these photos. Inside it’s very dark so I used an ISO rating of 1600, and still had to shoot at 1/15 of a second.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz1Rm_A7uM7X0AimTaN16zXZj6hxS49NJ1Ql2_T5h0NcKmH9-qZd5KqWyckdRnLOVQkg3L3gF3HsCAC1kS97QW076YSwJNJ0yIHcJe4HLo-ZmbDx23wmxQuLasEFSHuuHMirmw1QUJNA4/s1600-h/00062541.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 252px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz1Rm_A7uM7X0AimTaN16zXZj6hxS49NJ1Ql2_T5h0NcKmH9-qZd5KqWyckdRnLOVQkg3L3gF3HsCAC1kS97QW076YSwJNJ0yIHcJe4HLo-ZmbDx23wmxQuLasEFSHuuHMirmw1QUJNA4/s400/00062541.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359460549531384018" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Although there’s a lot of gold in the ornamentation the atmosphere is pretty sombre so I converted some of the images to black and white. I just love the way the balustrades curve around forming serried layers going right up to the dome.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7rM37tmmhIvOly3K7yqVHbq_O8Y4OrV-cvOIfNMOwbiDW0ZPFMyQ50ucL69p3WIsnd0SOTCw13_EQwzPppSNcQIfYwOrLQ6zly-nqrUVAEJS-lFc9Hw_E2CqdCS-OgCyiB4WkiV5-xjo/s1600-h/7995s.+Mary+morte+blogspot"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7rM37tmmhIvOly3K7yqVHbq_O8Y4OrV-cvOIfNMOwbiDW0ZPFMyQ50ucL69p3WIsnd0SOTCw13_EQwzPppSNcQIfYwOrLQ6zly-nqrUVAEJS-lFc9Hw_E2CqdCS-OgCyiB4WkiV5-xjo/s400/7995s.+Mary+morte+blogspot" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359404878725998274" border="0" /></a><br />The organ in Santa Maria de Morte<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">It seems like The Phantom of the Opera could appear at any moment.<br /></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigdOxMD9rYooxjCRw7Ul9Y-MrfM0O8xz8ltgZ2H0JtgY370A4IfWDrTfXfwe3aEkAymxuF0JK855OU3M4-aW7Gxsw6_EsNUonU5-I-7xIs39m3WCBF-spztnbr2YkslWLYM3Mn4NKsH3k/s1600-h/00062547.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigdOxMD9rYooxjCRw7Ul9Y-MrfM0O8xz8ltgZ2H0JtgY370A4IfWDrTfXfwe3aEkAymxuF0JK855OU3M4-aW7Gxsw6_EsNUonU5-I-7xIs39m3WCBF-spztnbr2YkslWLYM3Mn4NKsH3k/s400/00062547.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5359460280104582562" border="0" /></a>The blood red cross of the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Camillian</span> Fathers, an order that cares for the sick, in the west window is projected onto the wall of one of the side altars by the afternoon sun in the church of Saint Mary Magdalene.<br /></div>Stevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07118784664319791048noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5715788112042338963.post-65360085900688542102009-06-23T16:18:00.025+02:002009-07-20T18:39:04.240+02:00Coppedé<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmOkLRuV-qa6iQtawddEppOWT6fssNwXv8fo22c4un5dcxUqWmahxzyDL2dDGTw-b9uC8KdZyXcvzAB6T-cY-XHJDtrG_v6ACJXFA1JyNRmeTd2-e-GCvIxs53pMlJi2YSqH8XACnexPQ/s1600-h/Chandelier+504+.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmOkLRuV-qa6iQtawddEppOWT6fssNwXv8fo22c4un5dcxUqWmahxzyDL2dDGTw-b9uC8KdZyXcvzAB6T-cY-XHJDtrG_v6ACJXFA1JyNRmeTd2-e-GCvIxs53pMlJi2YSqH8XACnexPQ/s320/Chandelier+504+.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350623389507822850" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);">The "Mediaeval" chandelier hanging under<br />the arch looking towards Piazza Mincio</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-family:georgia;">When you are in Rome and soaking up some of its two thousand and more years of history it would be easy to arrive at the Baroque period and then heave an exhausted, “<span style="font-style: italic;">basta!</span>.” Let's face it, sightseeing is hard work. However one of Rome’s most eccentric and quirkiest little corners is still not yet 100 years old but well worth a visit, especially if you find yourself along Viale Regina Margherita, not far from the zoo and the Borghese Gallery.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYZ-NYIPPfY8t5wAPAhjPrmf-lhYEUr-X1k8HZRGG5kGk4PGnl5KPjtKG6t6Ac942Wj7bNXyVn3KAwlAkRKpvDMGaVqiWOEcW_UpNBSCQV0qaCRCJojK-Ymh3rLTbmLZkRJYt0thW3TVU/s1600-h/02Pal+degli+ambasciatori+++copy.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 315px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYZ-NYIPPfY8t5wAPAhjPrmf-lhYEUr-X1k8HZRGG5kGk4PGnl5KPjtKG6t6Ac942Wj7bNXyVn3KAwlAkRKpvDMGaVqiWOEcW_UpNBSCQV0qaCRCJojK-Ymh3rLTbmLZkRJYt0thW3TVU/s400/02Pal+degli+ambasciatori+++copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350538281210057490" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);"> Palazzi degli Ambasciatori and arch.</span><br /><br /></div><span style="font-family:georgia;">Building started on the quartiere Coppedé when The First World War was drawing to a close and was finished in about 1927. Rome had been going through a housing boom. It was only forty years since it had become the capital of the new state of Italy and in thirty years (from 1870 to 1900) the population increased from 200,000 to one million.</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;"><br /><br />This particular zone had been nominated “the most salubrious in Rome,” by all the fashionable magazines of the time. A co-operative society, <span style="font-style: italic;">“Edilizia Moderna,</span>” set up by the Cerutti family; influential Genoese financiers who had bought 30,000 square metres in the area commisioned Gino Coppedé to be the architect to design the 18 palazzi and 27 villas destined for a medium middle class market. </span> <span style="font-family:georgia;"><br /><br />Gino Coppedé had previously built a neo-mediaeval castle in Genoa for a Scottish Lloyds underwriter and Dante expert, Evan MacKenzie, that could have come straight out of Disneyland. He was also in demand as an interior designer of luxury yachts and ships.</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">The Ceruttis gave Gino Coppedé carte blanche in drawing up the plans for the development. Perhaps, with such a large area at his disposition, Gino intended to make this project his swansong, the sum of all his experiences and influcences; a kind of catalogue of his life’s work. Or a visual encyclopedia of architecture.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_HSRaWx37CBgzPucOtONCB5GUK1xe7A-UzQidqPeA0Nv356N-uevu0RzaQXvYmKdEhR0zIHjEXTOC1d_zBXM_1Wa0NHY7DxU5Gy-TSAk0sFSuIYLe4qJwmtF18SBMwu2Mc5ovLCk4Gt0/s1600-h/2551.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_HSRaWx37CBgzPucOtONCB5GUK1xe7A-UzQidqPeA0Nv356N-uevu0RzaQXvYmKdEhR0zIHjEXTOC1d_zBXM_1Wa0NHY7DxU5Gy-TSAk0sFSuIYLe4qJwmtF18SBMwu2Mc5ovLCk4Gt0/s400/2551.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350610820054896002" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);">Corner tower of the Palazzi degli Ambasciatori</span><br /></div> <span style="font-family:georgia;"><br />The best and usual way to enter the quartiere is through a triumphal archway (a tribute to imperial Rome perhaps) adjoining two palazzi, supported by two Michelangeloesque statues, and under which hangs a hefty wrought iron mock-mediaeval lamp.</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">The feeling is rather like having stepped through the looking glass. All of the buildings have been liberally decorated and adorned with grotesque figures, conucopia, lions, dragons, and a zoo full of animals including spiders and dozens of bees, possibly as a reference to the ancient and influencial Roman Barbarini family. There is a definite sense of having entered a secret place, and the noise of the city seems muffled on the other side of that looking glass. Go into Piazza Mincio where the frog fountain is gently gurgling. Dario Argento used the square for some of the scenes in his film “Inferno” and it is also a favourite location for shooting television commercials.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1-lxznfOHMLmLxl3rGvKpE5aMckRf-Mk1uAdHJrFgQzvZhBz4ik7CrEPQQlKbmT24MvJg49nN764N3vaF5kNaadfVwS1Zda2Mpv8iSZU9j5lfCjYAF_WIrq9a6KgKweHyirWNnSZjN0I/s1600-h/05no+2+Pza+Mincio+entrance++copy.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 319px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1-lxznfOHMLmLxl3rGvKpE5aMckRf-Mk1uAdHJrFgQzvZhBz4ik7CrEPQQlKbmT24MvJg49nN764N3vaF5kNaadfVwS1Zda2Mpv8iSZU9j5lfCjYAF_WIrq9a6KgKweHyirWNnSZjN0I/s400/05no+2+Pza+Mincio+entrance++copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350536762741946450" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);">The Porch at N° 2 Piazza Mincio<br /></span></div><span style="font-family:georgia;"><br />The first building to be completed (on the left as you enter through the arch) soon aquired the name of the Ambassadors’ Palaces, (<span style="font-style: italic;">Palazzi degli Ambasciatori)</span> after two ambassadors bought up apartments and moved in. The use of reinforced concrete, a relatively new material, meant that significant savings could be made, and these went towards ensuring that the apartments were the last word in modernity. All the apartments had electric interphones and underground garages were linked by lift to all floors.</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">(During the Second World War these garages were used as air raid shelters by the people in the surrounding area.) The bathrooms were equipped with everything that was thought necessary for the modern family’s hygienic needs whilst the kitchens were fitted with gas and coal burning ovens and cookers, copper boilers, marble sinks with every minutest detail finished to the highest quality. With the arrival of the ambassadors the Ceruttis raised their sights in attracting buyers from the highest levels of society, and for high ranking civil servants, diplomatic staff and others high up in government owning an apartment in the quarter became essential if you wanted to impress.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrOaMp0Nmxkh07VSzzChh1M5zg_SQZpSc4dTr0PGqaoZeq130EiH2Exng9h6gUmwN84bw6q-qYZi_Q0C8CB-gq0s5SN-kq47a0GAyqDnNwrwDFMxXfQlnpjXYSAGW7y3vpogrv4urMPks/s1600-h/04pa+mincio+%26+fountain+arc++copy.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 261px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrOaMp0Nmxkh07VSzzChh1M5zg_SQZpSc4dTr0PGqaoZeq130EiH2Exng9h6gUmwN84bw6q-qYZi_Q0C8CB-gq0s5SN-kq47a0GAyqDnNwrwDFMxXfQlnpjXYSAGW7y3vpogrv4urMPks/s400/04pa+mincio+%26+fountain+arc++copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350536569015466562" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);">The Fountain of the Frogs</span><br /></div> <span style="font-family:georgia;"><br />Piazza Mincio forms the nucleus and holds the most interesting buildings belonging to <span style="font-style: italic;">quartiere</span> Coopedé. The <span style="font-style: italic;">“Fontana delle Rane</span>” (Fountain of the Frogs) in the centre of the square is Coppedé’s tribute to the fountains of Rome and in particular Bernini’s “Turtle Fountain” in Piazza Mattei. The building at No 2 Piazza Mincio is characterised by medieaval loggias and balconies, with monstrous faces looking down onto the square; probably the last to be completed by Gino himself, who died in 1927. Its most beautiful feature however is the entrance, an arched porch decorated in monochromatic blue and white mosaic, apparently inspired by the 1913 film, Calibria.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbXRuxEwsU2OAleUsd3NL0X6K1cR536HPS6ODfpbEbSq0jHOF8OhuIIonqvsN6NfKSvPoxSIqjYaOZh2IWvrAIweYbWUwyT8UFYVbXEeYgLB4utVidTUn1BQvlmtG_Jdb6XSadS7VtmV8/s1600-h/porch+copped%C3%A9.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbXRuxEwsU2OAleUsd3NL0X6K1cR536HPS6ODfpbEbSq0jHOF8OhuIIonqvsN6NfKSvPoxSIqjYaOZh2IWvrAIweYbWUwyT8UFYVbXEeYgLB4utVidTUn1BQvlmtG_Jdb6XSadS7VtmV8/s400/porch+copped%C3%A9.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350619342141849842" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);">The blue and white mosaic in the porch at N° 2.<br /><br /></span></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzUbyCyHDT_ybJUGU3Y2lUEPgrXB-keXIoVTOGtUCWCOQpU0qw6uJIML4Bd_PSHDLlSvceqB7f5QfaJZAPaAwV7MQLeJyXywmowrylpqUyeFDegFLDrZiRIH0-PEBnlItUxxR1F-bw_cU/s1600-h/14+Spider+mosaic+2+copia+copy.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 271px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzUbyCyHDT_ybJUGU3Y2lUEPgrXB-keXIoVTOGtUCWCOQpU0qw6uJIML4Bd_PSHDLlSvceqB7f5QfaJZAPaAwV7MQLeJyXywmowrylpqUyeFDegFLDrZiRIH0-PEBnlItUxxR1F-bw_cU/s400/14+Spider+mosaic+2+copia+copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350539193181528050" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);">The Spider weaving its web above the door.</span><br /><br /></div><span style="font-family:georgia;">Opposite stands the Palazzo del Ragno (Spider Palace) named after the mosaic of a giant spider above the door.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;"></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJOj4PhZjf1nGeAIxFybz6Ng9YbeUDzm5cGNE-FyXW7ihCrIIbfXt88kbuJlkxSg6a2SGKqpSBkEmu0r-eM4_sT_FCW7aaFYU3mL56wVEMpKx-fMb-Hz2f6CC4h2Nze_7S6uGo9CxtodE/s1600-h/pal+del+ragno++copy.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 292px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJOj4PhZjf1nGeAIxFybz6Ng9YbeUDzm5cGNE-FyXW7ihCrIIbfXt88kbuJlkxSg6a2SGKqpSBkEmu0r-eM4_sT_FCW7aaFYU3mL56wVEMpKx-fMb-Hz2f6CC4h2Nze_7S6uGo9CxtodE/s400/pal+del+ragno++copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350539405843497346" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);">Palazzo del Ragno<br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFwnW5jC8n-iAvMg3r3G7H0J9CcbQj6bjKUPUPMw-tqjVwtRCZVZUYiKfcTiMD5OOBlvK7gBZ1OzRX1wDXlP4_bDCE9kG501FOCI1jMOyItfvQDU-wAyvRmF3YcFF7Mxc4_8EUqQvQYQU/s1600-h/Palazzo+del+ragno+2542.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFwnW5jC8n-iAvMg3r3G7H0J9CcbQj6bjKUPUPMw-tqjVwtRCZVZUYiKfcTiMD5OOBlvK7gBZ1OzRX1wDXlP4_bDCE9kG501FOCI1jMOyItfvQDU-wAyvRmF3YcFF7Mxc4_8EUqQvQYQU/s400/Palazzo+del+ragno+2542.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350607511572821490" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);">Palazzo del Ragno<br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvoEEDWpXbr-Ghhk0xy2UKvxRjBT7SVRBbBYspKuXwooBt9eSGWA_Ndm8nRowC0WlF9-XmBQ5ylJ4MpEAHJXguy1vYYgWRLrx5z-lrprNriS2vGM6PdkdQkTxUwZMtD1wEeWDknPdUfZE/s1600-h/Copped%C3%A9+2526+.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 264px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvoEEDWpXbr-Ghhk0xy2UKvxRjBT7SVRBbBYspKuXwooBt9eSGWA_Ndm8nRowC0WlF9-XmBQ5ylJ4MpEAHJXguy1vYYgWRLrx5z-lrprNriS2vGM6PdkdQkTxUwZMtD1wEeWDknPdUfZE/s400/Copped%C3%A9+2526+.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350615193327762770" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);">Villa delle Fate and the Palazzo del Ragno<br /><br /></span></div><span style="font-family:georgia;">The prize for the most ambitious and striking of all the villas and palazzi however goes without doubt to the so called Villa of the Fairies <span style="font-style: italic;">(Villa delle Fate.)</span> A sort of Renaisance Swiss chalet which is in fact three seperate houses in one single unit. It boasts covered turrets, roofed external stairways, overhanging eaves, loggias with romanesque pillars and arches and is extensively covered in frescoes, depicting scenes of Renaisance Florence, medeaeval ships, Romulus and Remus and the she wolf. The whole is surrounded by an elaborate wrought iron fence bearing sea horse motifs. Once home to a famous opera tenor, Beniamino Gigli, it it has recently been magnificently restored by the present owners.</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">On the inside too the walls are frescoed as is even the canopy over the fireplace in the (at the time extremely modern) kitchen.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGw0dSWa3E9cAQsSbWgNeut9TvXqnhuDLLfWj9oUAs7J6dvTxfrz3Cw__es_iiuuMEmOeCIDXixej1LQCvwnVz9pnfxS2hbVFFIPejxI0VlFH-sDpONHG9eDsRFzKptzvyPCwqrddZv-s/s1600-h/10front+villa+delle+fate+.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 290px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGw0dSWa3E9cAQsSbWgNeut9TvXqnhuDLLfWj9oUAs7J6dvTxfrz3Cw__es_iiuuMEmOeCIDXixej1LQCvwnVz9pnfxS2hbVFFIPejxI0VlFH-sDpONHG9eDsRFzKptzvyPCwqrddZv-s/s400/10front+villa+delle+fate+.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350537419331138130" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);">Villa delle Fate<br /><br /><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDJiDiCFGawpXezs1AbdIHCKG5sumE_mYWtRZL3uM_UPOFt-_sbGpM56CUfw1pH3MCkNoYL1JB-9fulidCKQON2_e8yxDiDqXV0Mszufdtu0MJAn1N_oLMFUudSNwTBKUJMLiHvan5d4I/s1600-h/Villa+delle+Fate+532.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDJiDiCFGawpXezs1AbdIHCKG5sumE_mYWtRZL3uM_UPOFt-_sbGpM56CUfw1pH3MCkNoYL1JB-9fulidCKQON2_e8yxDiDqXV0Mszufdtu0MJAn1N_oLMFUudSNwTBKUJMLiHvan5d4I/s400/Villa+delle+Fate+532.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350618984902709570" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);">Villa delle Fate</span><br /></div><span style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;">Gino Coppedé’s style might be baffling to pin down. Is it Liberty? The later Italian version of Art Nouveau. No. Gino had no interest in following other trends. He was a non intellectual, not caught up in the architectural movements of the time, though he was one of a number of “eclectic style” architects at work in Italy at the end of the 19th century. He would though have been been aware of a number of current styles listed by Italian architectural magazines such as the neo-medieaval and neo-renaisance styles (think of British mock Tudor and Gothic styles of the same period.) Neo-hellenistic and neo-baroque, and these he seems to have mixed all together with influences from his native Florence. </span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">All in all he knew what he liked, and ascribed to the idea that an architect must be a dreamer of fantasies. A photo of him shows a dandyfied gent, straight out of a Manet painting, wearing a peaked yachting cap and a George V beard with pointed waxed moustaches. His naive and even provincial preferences which excluded him from jumping on the bandwagon of Liberty or in the exact opposite direction of Modernism has had its reward. He remains the only Italian architect to have his name given to a style, stile Coppedé. </span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqrY4QVLn26kmlV5D37O4Bpon9xofH3w1LAl-r5t49jZ6mnoRlhNeeFwePsg0s_H6wo9_CbyosAO5r9We8-hNbzNPpHW937XcqhuC6vnvEmR1mWEZ_-AD2Nis0XeGfFjgdu1ehnahh_7g/s1600-h/Villa+delle+fate+481+.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqrY4QVLn26kmlV5D37O4Bpon9xofH3w1LAl-r5t49jZ6mnoRlhNeeFwePsg0s_H6wo9_CbyosAO5r9We8-hNbzNPpHW937XcqhuC6vnvEmR1mWEZ_-AD2Nis0XeGfFjgdu1ehnahh_7g/s400/Villa+delle+fate+481+.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350539613771654754" border="0" /></a><span style="text-decoration: underline;"></span><span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);">Villa delle Fate<br /><br /><br /></span><span style="text-decoration: underline;"></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifaROG29aPDDXGZMxTzq5d6ePZAsaH1YmUPYGTLDxXBszDq7pJvmcxLI6_b0KqFWzq7ebx7SzDHTIa6Ct4WeRtk3sEervisX_Bllmeijc4R5FumSzBU0hs_FrP0S0HuYOF64864Tt9MjM/s1600-h/03+Palazzi+Ambasciatori++copy.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 321px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifaROG29aPDDXGZMxTzq5d6ePZAsaH1YmUPYGTLDxXBszDq7pJvmcxLI6_b0KqFWzq7ebx7SzDHTIa6Ct4WeRtk3sEervisX_Bllmeijc4R5FumSzBU0hs_FrP0S0HuYOF64864Tt9MjM/s400/03+Palazzi+Ambasciatori++copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350536303591671810" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);">Piazza Mincio</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-decoration: underline;"></span><br /><span style="text-decoration: underline;"></span></div><span style="font-family:georgia;">Getting there;</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">Metro line B, get off at station Policlinico and catch trams no 3 or no 19 in direction P.zza Thorvaldsen or P.zza Risorgimento. Get off at Piazza Buenos Aires.</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">By bus from Termini Station. Buses nos 86 and 92, via Via Veneto to Piazza Buenos Aires.</span> <span style="font-family:georgia;">Bus no 53 from Piazza San Silvestro to Via Salaria. Passes the Borghese Gallery on Via Pinciano.</span><br /><br /><br /><iframe marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" src="http://maps.google.co.uk/maps?f=q&source=s_q&hl=en&geocode=&q=piazza+mincio,+rome&sll=54.007769,-4.042969&sspn=11.246556,26.235352&ie=UTF8&ll=41.927506,12.506647&spn=0.02235,0.036478&z=14&iwloc=A&output=embed" frameborder="0" height="300" scrolling="no" width="300"></iframe><br /><small><a href="http://maps.google.co.uk/maps?f=q&source=embed&hl=en&geocode=&q=piazza+mincio,+rome&sll=54.007769,-4.042969&sspn=11.246556,26.235352&ie=UTF8&ll=41.927506,12.506647&spn=0.02235,0.036478&z=14&iwloc=A" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 255); text-align: left;">View Larger Map</a></small>Stevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07118784664319791048noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5715788112042338963.post-74430774696622450052009-06-18T14:41:00.002+02:002009-06-19T14:21:27.463+02:00A‘ Chiena. A Festival and a Water Fight.<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW5CI93GDAHPB1DmcAHzDl3XbQl-KSoqWjTUfyMPwVSWKCOu968vNICDVWIu7HZZ9TrzPWaea3n6QfdCzLfDCxY8WRG_1ZqfxfAEtreHnCTsFTi4K-a-k7LLJ_J9dpPnv_YecSwtLNMMg/s1600-h/first+wave+copy.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW5CI93GDAHPB1DmcAHzDl3XbQl-KSoqWjTUfyMPwVSWKCOu968vNICDVWIu7HZZ9TrzPWaea3n6QfdCzLfDCxY8WRG_1ZqfxfAEtreHnCTsFTi4K-a-k7LLJ_J9dpPnv_YecSwtLNMMg/s400/first+wave+copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348656361563080018" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"><span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);">The first trickle of water makes its way into town at about</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);">2.30 pm.<br /><br /></span></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5JyHtkzaxwiEEH8cKcU9ex1VpXetyoPPXl2qAZf3IEfVPofqDelXKx4Vc8aq5cf1XfHU4OeGNrVmmXq76qpCiJmAHLIlY6d3EnliXRjsmbBnuoHSAP5J8MkWn0eo9Np3jVfP9xpl1y3M/s1600-h/Campagna+boy+girl+chiena.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5JyHtkzaxwiEEH8cKcU9ex1VpXetyoPPXl2qAZf3IEfVPofqDelXKx4Vc8aq5cf1XfHU4OeGNrVmmXq76qpCiJmAHLIlY6d3EnliXRjsmbBnuoHSAP5J8MkWn0eo9Np3jVfP9xpl1y3M/s400/Campagna+boy+girl+chiena.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349009639135998722" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinCOZ_d4bv3CQsiDnVJJgf9V3VF0LLHsWfgw6yYl0cY8tLDMvEBn-ayF1fzGnb8wEKz3qVVlU-R8Uyl5rE6pJ-LSyza2ve9suzfLLz2n98k9kq8zktDlaYWZsnULYX_JPxkJOXp_VGnUs/s1600-h/town+of+Campagna+.jpg"><br /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSSXgexpMiZjPM9QLblDm4K4C2hEIOwJ4jeou2UWEXs5dr65RBlGp4pEee0jdDhabtg6A-eHLOON6WmrcB3xeVWCLuvXHjf2_T47ilL0KAF5edYXvC9tez3iuOeNLOJLFD2d_AoOnNxyQ/s1600-h/girl+and+boy+.jpg"><br /></a></div><br /><br />When the river Tenza breaks its banks the citizens of the town of Campagna (in the province of Salerno, 70 miles south of Naples) have already shored up their houses with planks and sandbags, because it does so with surprising regularity; every Saturday and Sunday from the middle of July and into August at half past two in the afternoon. And its been doing so for the last twenty years.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0ZJcrhhm1g7C1wI9qpffDW_FF1-TKPdPO-d2NTtGCWSv3PMAAQy5MmNI2GVMkmGOO1a88CtIvTVHvioi1Fq-B_93rL4PjLLiYg4LysThfgVGToXxsC56h5_kYgyXO99oETPdTbRcujXU/s1600-h/chucking+in+copy.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0ZJcrhhm1g7C1wI9qpffDW_FF1-TKPdPO-d2NTtGCWSv3PMAAQy5MmNI2GVMkmGOO1a88CtIvTVHvioi1Fq-B_93rL4PjLLiYg4LysThfgVGToXxsC56h5_kYgyXO99oETPdTbRcujXU/s400/chucking+in+copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348679435221922802" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);"><br /><span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);">On his way for a unscheduled dunking.</span><br /><br /></span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyTfDaJcxCYpaRn7tmbJ4ICkX9h9A62njaST-R0XD_BMOmAbhyphenhyphenUERD9zts3nLp3ehcabflFtHDCx_SDF7j9N4RR2v0g-oGh700g-lLRt8-vtxPm5cSieDR-Xa61Y4EOQ7QSMZWyDDGWa8/s1600-h/pulling+out+copy.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyTfDaJcxCYpaRn7tmbJ4ICkX9h9A62njaST-R0XD_BMOmAbhyphenhyphenUERD9zts3nLp3ehcabflFtHDCx_SDF7j9N4RR2v0g-oGh700g-lLRt8-vtxPm5cSieDR-Xa61Y4EOQ7QSMZWyDDGWa8/s400/pulling+out+copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348673418924025634" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);">And then fished out again</span><br /><br /></div>The “<span style="font-style: italic;">Chiena</span>” (meaning “full” as in “full to overflowing”) as it's called, is a revival of an antique method of cleaning the streets; when mule trains, passing through the town in the summer months carrying iron ore, clay and wood from the lofty forested Pincentini mountains would have left their mark on the cobble stones. And in the summer months their passing would have left a noticable <span style="font-style: italic;">puzza</span> in the stifling air too.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFiB2qqaK0xsdvWEGl5IfA1yN4QMjs-Uk36NfKftuuJ1VVYDLQoAuxzNJmUtqjudOFW3CMLuQKFGJBDgC6PaO36y5dkHqhb9ev-IUvpHa3_SOH8o2URJ8EmfVYB1OocxAEvbizVEnRC5k/s1600-h/strolling+copy.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFiB2qqaK0xsdvWEGl5IfA1yN4QMjs-Uk36NfKftuuJ1VVYDLQoAuxzNJmUtqjudOFW3CMLuQKFGJBDgC6PaO36y5dkHqhb9ev-IUvpHa3_SOH8o2URJ8EmfVYB1OocxAEvbizVEnRC5k/s400/strolling+copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348985141720335442" border="0" /></a><br />Mule dung is no longer a big problem for the town council, so nowadays the <span style="font-style: italic;">Chiena</span> is a good excuse for a party.<span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMN22vDhoyhtj2nLKjD6sAOyl-wnz75yc2COS3WXcMQjjtnFT6SXJt3Mrm5FBcHZUn1-SSQaG8UCq3HRve-XUNuw6i-B1oTGkTzq7GvUTbdhCysGaHGdv7XHCJXICGb_jTgwreSQSnW4g/s1600-h/locals+watch+water+copy.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMN22vDhoyhtj2nLKjD6sAOyl-wnz75yc2COS3WXcMQjjtnFT6SXJt3Mrm5FBcHZUn1-SSQaG8UCq3HRve-XUNuw6i-B1oTGkTzq7GvUTbdhCysGaHGdv7XHCJXICGb_jTgwreSQSnW4g/s400/locals+watch+water+copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349011206562333874" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);">Watching the waters go by.</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Above the waterfall just outside of the town a miniature canal was built in the mid nineteenth century to redirect some of the river water. Half goes through the town’s drainage system and the other half back into the river. The opening taking the water back to the river is blocked and the pressure of water gushes up through a grating and tumbles down past the post office into the piazza and on through the town.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7TWBK80vOwJ3LUS0PQkDwYlvlWT9WdE3fa7q688wpHmzlrkmPeGT-XNVs0Wux-KhZO6RoE7d8EPa_5HjNt9upLP7uECAj34s_GsncqkEgN7dBgCrYrco3wXksCFC1c6Wt15299R3f7yE/s1600-h/boy+at+campagna+copy.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7TWBK80vOwJ3LUS0PQkDwYlvlWT9WdE3fa7q688wpHmzlrkmPeGT-XNVs0Wux-KhZO6RoE7d8EPa_5HjNt9upLP7uECAj34s_GsncqkEgN7dBgCrYrco3wXksCFC1c6Wt15299R3f7yE/s400/boy+at+campagna+copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348671243782988898" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);">Check to see the going's good.</span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6mTrQNc0JRjFvvjnLFuW1rb3nGFKVBKN57SNjamCm7AxlZ1iK0-kWUC_f0irpkFgCUxdCzqWXZu5kvkh-9mJB40Zp9lXLsxqZF6u0ibpze3AfSqxPYXdhaF4odGrEtE2W5sgSNPNlIl0/s1600-h/town+of+Campagna++copy+2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 292px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6mTrQNc0JRjFvvjnLFuW1rb3nGFKVBKN57SNjamCm7AxlZ1iK0-kWUC_f0irpkFgCUxdCzqWXZu5kvkh-9mJB40Zp9lXLsxqZF6u0ibpze3AfSqxPYXdhaF4odGrEtE2W5sgSNPNlIl0/s400/town+of+Campagna++copy+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349010651269372354" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(192, 192, 192);">The River Tenza running through<br />the town of Campagna</span><br /></div><br />At midday a test run in which a small amount of water is diverted through the streets beguiles the numerous tourists with its relaxed mood. Locals set up tables and stalls along the route from which free drinks and snacks are offered, and families quietly stroll through the icy water. Enjoying the unusual and pleasant experience of paddling barefoot over cobblestoned streets.<br />It’s in the afternoon that the fun starts. The whole town is out to watch the spectacle, and the town’s young male population are all dressed in trainers and swimming costumes, the girls cover up slightly more, but not much. They know they aren’t going to stay dry for very long and want to make sure they will look enticing enough to the boys when wet through, without being too revealing.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiByXPylqX4UdMjPr2KeaEBcSqmfYbafL_Ule8fwFAk9TtatFIEPiCLAx-BYBW2ZFCMCzyUfjtEaLMTUt7BW4pO9be1YK05wWbvbfh3afRrTgnx-CDEka8vkwicXxLucWOzZMDxTBpagR8/s1600-h/Campagna+chiena+splash+.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiByXPylqX4UdMjPr2KeaEBcSqmfYbafL_Ule8fwFAk9TtatFIEPiCLAx-BYBW2ZFCMCzyUfjtEaLMTUt7BW4pO9be1YK05wWbvbfh3afRrTgnx-CDEka8vkwicXxLucWOzZMDxTBpagR8/s400/Campagna+chiena+splash+.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5349010034214840674" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Even since its original and functional application it has been an occasion to drench each other, and anyone else.<br /><br />A disco rings the changes but the bucketsful are flying in every direction as in times past; although a plastic bag full of water makes as good a container as any. And as the waters rise so does the tempo, and inevitably the girls are singled out by the lads who carry them kicking, screaming, laughing and resigned to a soaking; either where the water piles up as it turns a sharp street corner, or no messing and straight in the fountain in the piazza.<br />Tourists and the older inhabitants look on from the margins, and if you decide to paddle your way to another vantage point a sort of truce is observed to keep at least your top half dry. But it’s sometimes difficult to avoid being in the line of fire. And who really minds too much anyway?<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoWVqi1W3sP95BKaXkWDq1Z_dymafUbLtDbAKImcFoDaeUAVp8_V0CzED-6LL1FzV1debxdmld91L88A_ErJotQLkVQ7hB88TNdIsRtafhf_lv5TBBY_bgxQUMsg8iHyQZj3dddaUcj84/s1600-h/throwing+water+over+terrace.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoWVqi1W3sP95BKaXkWDq1Z_dymafUbLtDbAKImcFoDaeUAVp8_V0CzED-6LL1FzV1debxdmld91L88A_ErJotQLkVQ7hB88TNdIsRtafhf_lv5TBBY_bgxQUMsg8iHyQZj3dddaUcj84/s400/throwing+water+over+terrace.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348684756468733922" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Though carrying a camera around can give you some worrying moments and it can be a good idea to have something to cover it with to keep any stray water off.<br />The last <span style="font-style: italic;">a’ Chiena</span> of the summer takes place at midnight on either <span style="font-style: italic;">Ferragosta</span>, August 15th, or on the following day.<br /><br />Although a small town of only 15,000 inhabitants Campagna manages to organise a variety of events throughout the summer to accompany the <span style="font-style: italic;">Chiena</span>. In July of last year the Band of the Royal Marines were among the attractions.<br /><br />Campagna, August 2004. Updated June 2009.<br /><br />Get there by car. A3 southbound from Naples and take the exit for Campagna. Follow the signposts for Campagna on the SP38.<br /><br /><br /><br /><iframe marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" src="http://maps.google.it/maps?f=q&source=s_q&hl=it&geocode=&q=campagna&sll=41.738528,12.392578&sspn=12.717661,26.191406&ie=UTF8&ll=40.65095,15.139847&spn=0.156286,0.205994&z=11&iwloc=A&output=embed" frameborder="0" height="300" scrolling="no" width="300"></iframe><br /><small><a href="http://maps.google.it/maps?f=q&source=embed&hl=it&geocode=&q=campagna&sll=41.738528,12.392578&sspn=12.717661,26.191406&ie=UTF8&ll=40.65095,15.139847&spn=0.156286,0.205994&z=11&iwloc=A" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 255); text-align: left;">Visualizzazione ingrandita della mappa</a></small>Stevehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07118784664319791048noreply@blogger.com0