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Wed the 20th, continued
So, did we make it on time?
Of course we did. What we had not realized is that there is no problem caused by Italian inefficiency that cannot be solved by Italian inefficiency. We actually got into the station closer to 9:15, but, in any case, the 9:34 train didn't leave until closer to 9:40, maybe later. We had ALL SORTS of time.
The Bucine station is a run-down nearly-abandoned looking thing. It's just basically a place that the train stops, with poorly-maintained buildings nearly sheltering a ticket machine that doesn't work.
I can't explain why I like it so much. It just fits. It's right that this station should look like this. It would be garish and weird if you had a nice, shiny modern station here. If someone threw a coat of paint up, I guess that wouldn't ruin it, but it doesn't need it.
The villa that we are staying at is perhaps a hundred yards from the station. That makes it a ten minute drive, or a fifteen minute walk. It's a hundred yards all but straight up. You can stand on the balcony and wave to people getting off the train, but you couldn't get from that balcony to the station without a parachute or hang-glider. Maybe rappelling would work.
We're staying at Villa Catola. It's a Tuscan villa. It is large enough that this whole family doesn't feel cramped. Some day I may feel up to attempting to write about what the house is like, but other folks have tried to explain it. So, if you want to pick up poetry and novels about Tuscany, maybe some of the Impressionist paintings of Tuscany... it's like that.
I mean, I really COULD try to describe it to you. But, you know, it really DOES look and feel like what artists have tried to explain. I don't suppose I'm a bad writer, but I also don't suppose I'm the best writer who's ever been here.
So, it's been done. Read THEIR stuff, look at THEIR paintings, and that's where I am right now. I'm typing at my cousin's laptop with a wireless connection, which is on a table right next to open floor-to-ceiling double doors which look out onto a gravel driveway beyond which are gardens with flowers, a blue sky with white clouds which looks the way that blue sky with white clouds are supposed to look. Just through the trees, I can see white and yellow walls, and red roofs, that look like what you see in paintings of Tuscany. I can hear birds, pigeons, roosters, jays. . .
It looks so right that you don't even notice it. But every once in a while, it's surprising that this place actually DOES look like its paintings.
It smells like summer camp in Vermont here. So I'm not feeling as homesick -- it smells like New England. And the light is right, too.
Right now, my grandparents, aunts, uncles, are down the hill at a little coffee shop. They've been there for hours. Only reason Lis and I aren't there too is that we're doing laundry and Internet stuff. My cousins and sister are all still asleep, because they tend to go to bed two, three AM.
Okay, that was all a digression, if an important one. It's important to note what I'm being as well as record what I've done.
But, in terms of the story, rather than the setting, we are at Lis and my arrival at Bucine. I got a shower, and therefore was able to begin to appreciate where I was, something I can't do while in my unshowered hell state. We said hello to family, and, after a bit of unpacking and getting ready, we headed back out again to Rome with Mom.
Father and Sister drove out to Castelgandalfo, and we took the train. We were going out to visit Brother Guy.
Those of you who know Guy are probably all shaking in envy at this point. What could be possibly cooler than a Dr Guy J Consolmagno, S.J.? A Dr Guy J Consolmagno, S.J. observed in its natural habitat: a really, really cool observatory.
Guy is a SF geek we met at Boskone, and really hit it off with. He's just one of those people that you can't help but like. He's an MIT geek with undergrad, grad, and doctoral work in planetary science, geology, and astronomy, and has been a professor at a bunch of different universities. He then took up holy orders, and ended up with one of the coolest jobs in the world: he's the curator of the Pope's meteorite collection, and is an astronomer who gets to study whatever he feels will lead to understanding of the universe, and therefore increase appreciation for the glory of God.
When we were at Boskone, he invited us to see the Vatican observatory, and we jumped on the chance, including asking if we couldn't bring Mom, Dad, and Leila with, partially because we thought they'd like the observatory, but just as much because we thought they'd like Guy and vice versa.
And we were right.
Castelgandalfo: you are on the train from Rome, and you go through a tunnel through the middle of a mountain. It's totally dark -- there are no lights on the train, and you can't see anything for about a minute. Then, you burst into the sunlight and are looking down at the most beautiful spring-fed lake in a volcanic caldera. . . .
Dad and Leila got to the station before us, and phoned us to see if I couldn't give them a description of Bro. Guy since he was meeting us at the station. I gave them a perfectly good description, but he was waiting up on a balcony overlooking the train platform, and they didn't look up. Still, when we got there, we all met up in good order and made introductions.
We got gelato, and schmoozed for a bit, and he showed us around the town a bit, and then he showed us around the Vatican Observatory. I haven't read or seen The DaVinci Code, but I may have to, because apparently parts of it take place there. And we were in the library of the Vatican Observatory, where, supposedly, some of the book and movie takes place.
The Vatican Observatory Library looks like basically every other academic library I've been in, with the normal shelves and beat up tables with papers and books all over the place. They do have rare books -- historically significant physics stuff, like Newton and Galeleio and so forth -- no first editions, but some sixteenth- and seventeenth-century second edition. Those, of course, are kept MUCH more securely. THOSE are in a LOCKING supply cabinet like the one that your office keeps office supplies in to keep people from stealing them!
It's a gorgeous building, and some of the machinery that turns the older telescopes has a wonderful "machine that goes PING!" feel to it. I swear, Dad was drooling at some of the equipment.
I won't steal any of Guy's stories, since I'm sure that SOME of you have heard them all before, and SOME of you haven't, yet, but will.
And I really can't do much justice to the building. But I think that some of the astronomers should invite Dan Brown over to see how sinister and secretive they all are. I mean, they are so secretive that they publish everything they do in peer-reviewed journals! Oooo, spooooky.
After that, we went out for pizza at Guy's favorite pizza place in town, and we sat there for several hours just hanging out, eating amazing food, and talking.
I can't tell which was the best part of the trip.
And then there was the drive home, from Castelgandalfo to Bucine.
We got lost. Badly.
That was frustrating and nerve-wracking, but there is one thing that I have to say about it.
It was midnight-ish, and we were driving randomly through the center of some town, with no clue how to get out. We see a guy walking down the street, just kind of hanging out, smoking a cigarette, and we roll down the window... "Um, scusi, um... dove. . .Bucine?" we attempt to say.
He speaks no English but is trying to give some explanation how to get there. Finally, he holds up his hand and says, "Um -- wait. I get car."
He then drove for fifteen minutes to lead us to where it was a straight shot to Bucine.
We were thanking him as much as we knew how, and he just grinned and said, "Enjoy Italy."
Look.
There are different kinds of patriotism, and some of them are pretty ugly. I love my country, and consider myself a patriot, but I don't like the American style of "my country can beat up your country"-style patriotism.
I am much more impressed by the kind of patriotism which makes you spend fifteen minutes after midnight just driving some totally random lost tourists to the highway, just to show them how awesome your country is.
You know? He did that to prove how great Italy and Italians are.
QED.
Of course we did. What we had not realized is that there is no problem caused by Italian inefficiency that cannot be solved by Italian inefficiency. We actually got into the station closer to 9:15, but, in any case, the 9:34 train didn't leave until closer to 9:40, maybe later. We had ALL SORTS of time.
The Bucine station is a run-down nearly-abandoned looking thing. It's just basically a place that the train stops, with poorly-maintained buildings nearly sheltering a ticket machine that doesn't work.
I can't explain why I like it so much. It just fits. It's right that this station should look like this. It would be garish and weird if you had a nice, shiny modern station here. If someone threw a coat of paint up, I guess that wouldn't ruin it, but it doesn't need it.
The villa that we are staying at is perhaps a hundred yards from the station. That makes it a ten minute drive, or a fifteen minute walk. It's a hundred yards all but straight up. You can stand on the balcony and wave to people getting off the train, but you couldn't get from that balcony to the station without a parachute or hang-glider. Maybe rappelling would work.
We're staying at Villa Catola. It's a Tuscan villa. It is large enough that this whole family doesn't feel cramped. Some day I may feel up to attempting to write about what the house is like, but other folks have tried to explain it. So, if you want to pick up poetry and novels about Tuscany, maybe some of the Impressionist paintings of Tuscany... it's like that.
I mean, I really COULD try to describe it to you. But, you know, it really DOES look and feel like what artists have tried to explain. I don't suppose I'm a bad writer, but I also don't suppose I'm the best writer who's ever been here.
So, it's been done. Read THEIR stuff, look at THEIR paintings, and that's where I am right now. I'm typing at my cousin's laptop with a wireless connection, which is on a table right next to open floor-to-ceiling double doors which look out onto a gravel driveway beyond which are gardens with flowers, a blue sky with white clouds which looks the way that blue sky with white clouds are supposed to look. Just through the trees, I can see white and yellow walls, and red roofs, that look like what you see in paintings of Tuscany. I can hear birds, pigeons, roosters, jays. . .
It looks so right that you don't even notice it. But every once in a while, it's surprising that this place actually DOES look like its paintings.
It smells like summer camp in Vermont here. So I'm not feeling as homesick -- it smells like New England. And the light is right, too.
Right now, my grandparents, aunts, uncles, are down the hill at a little coffee shop. They've been there for hours. Only reason Lis and I aren't there too is that we're doing laundry and Internet stuff. My cousins and sister are all still asleep, because they tend to go to bed two, three AM.
Okay, that was all a digression, if an important one. It's important to note what I'm being as well as record what I've done.
But, in terms of the story, rather than the setting, we are at Lis and my arrival at Bucine. I got a shower, and therefore was able to begin to appreciate where I was, something I can't do while in my unshowered hell state. We said hello to family, and, after a bit of unpacking and getting ready, we headed back out again to Rome with Mom.
Father and Sister drove out to Castelgandalfo, and we took the train. We were going out to visit Brother Guy.
Those of you who know Guy are probably all shaking in envy at this point. What could be possibly cooler than a Dr Guy J Consolmagno, S.J.? A Dr Guy J Consolmagno, S.J. observed in its natural habitat: a really, really cool observatory.
Guy is a SF geek we met at Boskone, and really hit it off with. He's just one of those people that you can't help but like. He's an MIT geek with undergrad, grad, and doctoral work in planetary science, geology, and astronomy, and has been a professor at a bunch of different universities. He then took up holy orders, and ended up with one of the coolest jobs in the world: he's the curator of the Pope's meteorite collection, and is an astronomer who gets to study whatever he feels will lead to understanding of the universe, and therefore increase appreciation for the glory of God.
When we were at Boskone, he invited us to see the Vatican observatory, and we jumped on the chance, including asking if we couldn't bring Mom, Dad, and Leila with, partially because we thought they'd like the observatory, but just as much because we thought they'd like Guy and vice versa.
And we were right.
Castelgandalfo: you are on the train from Rome, and you go through a tunnel through the middle of a mountain. It's totally dark -- there are no lights on the train, and you can't see anything for about a minute. Then, you burst into the sunlight and are looking down at the most beautiful spring-fed lake in a volcanic caldera. . . .
Dad and Leila got to the station before us, and phoned us to see if I couldn't give them a description of Bro. Guy since he was meeting us at the station. I gave them a perfectly good description, but he was waiting up on a balcony overlooking the train platform, and they didn't look up. Still, when we got there, we all met up in good order and made introductions.
We got gelato, and schmoozed for a bit, and he showed us around the town a bit, and then he showed us around the Vatican Observatory. I haven't read or seen The DaVinci Code, but I may have to, because apparently parts of it take place there. And we were in the library of the Vatican Observatory, where, supposedly, some of the book and movie takes place.
The Vatican Observatory Library looks like basically every other academic library I've been in, with the normal shelves and beat up tables with papers and books all over the place. They do have rare books -- historically significant physics stuff, like Newton and Galeleio and so forth -- no first editions, but some sixteenth- and seventeenth-century second edition. Those, of course, are kept MUCH more securely. THOSE are in a LOCKING supply cabinet like the one that your office keeps office supplies in to keep people from stealing them!
It's a gorgeous building, and some of the machinery that turns the older telescopes has a wonderful "machine that goes PING!" feel to it. I swear, Dad was drooling at some of the equipment.
I won't steal any of Guy's stories, since I'm sure that SOME of you have heard them all before, and SOME of you haven't, yet, but will.
And I really can't do much justice to the building. But I think that some of the astronomers should invite Dan Brown over to see how sinister and secretive they all are. I mean, they are so secretive that they publish everything they do in peer-reviewed journals! Oooo, spooooky.
After that, we went out for pizza at Guy's favorite pizza place in town, and we sat there for several hours just hanging out, eating amazing food, and talking.
I can't tell which was the best part of the trip.
And then there was the drive home, from Castelgandalfo to Bucine.
We got lost. Badly.
That was frustrating and nerve-wracking, but there is one thing that I have to say about it.
It was midnight-ish, and we were driving randomly through the center of some town, with no clue how to get out. We see a guy walking down the street, just kind of hanging out, smoking a cigarette, and we roll down the window... "Um, scusi, um... dove. . .Bucine?" we attempt to say.
He speaks no English but is trying to give some explanation how to get there. Finally, he holds up his hand and says, "Um -- wait. I get car."
He then drove for fifteen minutes to lead us to where it was a straight shot to Bucine.
We were thanking him as much as we knew how, and he just grinned and said, "Enjoy Italy."
Look.
There are different kinds of patriotism, and some of them are pretty ugly. I love my country, and consider myself a patriot, but I don't like the American style of "my country can beat up your country"-style patriotism.
I am much more impressed by the kind of patriotism which makes you spend fifteen minutes after midnight just driving some totally random lost tourists to the highway, just to show them how awesome your country is.
You know? He did that to prove how great Italy and Italians are.
QED.
Driving for 15 Minutes
I'm so glad you are enjoying Italy! Then again, how could one not? The light, the food, the architecture...
*happy sigh*
N.
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My sister lived in Italy for a year and a half after she finished college, and has a bunch of stories like your Zen-driving one. She agrees with your assessment that the best way to demonstrate your country's awesomeness is by example, and that Italians have a good handle on it.
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And I particularly love that bit at the end.
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I am so glad your having a wonderful time on your trip. Have you been taking pictures?
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