Tante Belle Cose - June09

Well, the best news to come out this month is the arrival of summer, although judging from the people who attempt to cool off in Rome’s fountains, I don’t mean because of the intense heat: It’s L’Estate Romana, when there is l’imbarazzo della scelta of outdoor theatres, cinemas, concerts, plays, and every sort of entertainment around. From the ancient theatre of Ostia Antica to world music in Villa Ada, amazing shows in Tivoli and even little parks filled with one activity or another, including Rome Vintage and totally fun Gay Village, summer has arrived. It truly makes you want to spend your time in the fairly emptied city, year after year.
You can visit the site, but, being government run, good luck in actually finding show times and costs. You can’t have everything.

Dining at the Hassler Hotel’s Palazzetto one fine evening overlooking Piazza di Spagna, I was amazed to find the Spanish Steps just teeming with people. This is one law I’m fully thrilled is not being enforced. The idea of banishing people from the steps, and fining them if they so much imbibed in a gelato was the greatest insult to a tourism-based kind of place. Recently it was also proclaimed to get rid of the masseuses off the beaches of Ostia. Frankly, I think it’s a fine idea – after all, they’re not licensed or anything.
But, could they please add the trinket salesmen with their glow-in-the-dark gadgets to their list? I’d truly love to enjoy a meal out in a trattoria in Trastevere without having a half dozen glow toys surrounding my Prosecco glass.

Like so many of Mayor Alemanno’s vast proclamations, after the clean sweep, just like flies the perpetrators just keep coming back for more. Although another bella cosa is, I haven’t happened upon the hookers on the Via Salaria, although the transvestites who frequent the Aventino are still in full force right under the nose of the military posted there.

Aside from uncovering Saint Paul himself, they also discovered at the close of this Pauline year, a truly ancient fresco depicting the saint himself. It was found in the catacombs of Saint Tecla and dates back to the IV century.

And finally, it would appear that all of the monuments damaged in Aquila’s earthquake have found sponsors for their restoration. Thank goodness.
Just in time for the new tremors felt today.

The Lord Works in Mysterious Ways

Over the last year we have been celebrating here in Rome, the Anno Paolino or rather, the Year of Saint Paul of Tarsus. This is to mark the bimillenium (that’s 2000 years to the rest of us) of his birth. And so, all of the churches around most of the Christian world have devoted programs surrounding this great man, his writings and so on.
And so it came as such a befitting ending to this year of celebration that it was announced that it is, in fact, Saint Paul who is buried underneath the altar of Saint Paul Outside the Walls; purportedly, the place where he was lain following his martyrdom by beheading. An altar of sorts had sprung up outside the walls, and the place was heaped in legend. ‘Til one day, they built the magnificent Basilica to St. Paul.
But they never knew for sure if someone was really resting in peace around those parts. So, in what can be nothing short of a miracle, there they were, working away – even on Sunday – having seemingly turned their plowshares into light sabers -- to uncover the truth behind the body at Saint Paul’s. And, lo and behold! Right on schedule (even if calendars may have changed somewhat since his time), there we were, on the Feast Day of Saint Paul and the last day in the Anno Paolino, we got the word straight from the Pope's mouth about this magnificent discovery. Doesn’t get much more apropos than that.
Although one could comment, in the marketing-challenged world that is Italy, it might have made a bit more sense to dish the dirt (figuratively) at the start of the Pauline year, and not the end...may have gone a long way to bringing in more hordes of pilgrims.
But, funny thing about those lasers and carbon dating equipment, though. They can’t quite peg the Shroud of Turin to be the Medieval rag that it is ("results inconclusive"), nor can they quite figure out if the tears of blood cried by the statue of the Madonna each year in Naples is really kool-aid, but, as for Saint Paul, it's pretty definitive—even though the body was not exhumed for the purpose.
The Lord does, indeed, work in mysterious ways.

My apologies...but I just couldn't resist

And, Tanto di Cappello to artist Marco Martellini (who you can find on facebook) the talent behind this sensational drawing, which requires no explanation other than the names of some of those featured in what is a modern day version of Raphael's depiction of all the great thinkers of his day...(sorry, I've had visitors here all week...visiting the Vatican, et.al.)....

On the right, you'll spot Garibaldi in his red shirt, Mussolini, Andreotti, and of course, our beloved P.M.

To read what the foreign press is coming up with, click on the links below:

The Huffington Post's Big News Page on Berlusconi

On the petition set off by the wives of G8 leaders trying (in vain) to relegate Berlusca to his misogynist place in history

The Times of London is having a field day (although I can't locate their map of all things tawdry & titillating)...

TV Dinners

Last night I got to watch the USA beat Spain 2-0 in the FIFA championships. The best part about it is, I got to watch right through dinner. Now, to most Americans who eat in front of the TV, this is not big news. But I am actually one of those people who firmly believes that dinner is a time to be spent with the family, around a table, and with no outside distractions especially of the nightly news, big brother brain dead jibberish, game shows or tits & ass varieties.

I did not make an exception to this rule because of the USA game. I actually had no choice. I was in an amazing little trattoria outside Rome, with friends eating the best pizza on planet earth. Like most restaurants in Italy, the television was set up front and center – never mind that it clashed with the décor – for easy watching. The volume turned up so loud you could barely hear those across the table.

This scene is played out throughout the country. Even when I’m the only one in the trattoria, begging them to please turn it down, they won’t. Or even when nobody’s watching the thing, the decibel level raised to exorbitant heights, they won’t give in.

I’m curious to know who the interior designer was that thought huge-screen TVs would be a welcome part of any meal out. Probably the same one who goes home for dinner each night and has a meal with his TV blaring straight through the pastasciutta. In reality, I believe it’s a throwback to the days when only one bar in town had the tube. Villagers would crowd around the one screen and watch the 1950s American musicals, dubbed appropriately in Italian, except for the songs.

At least one thing’s for sure: Everyone would have heard them belting out Singin’ in the Rain.

All the Prime Minister's Women

One thing's for certain: If you want to capture Berlusconi's eye, and make it as a PYT (Pretty Young Thing, or Politician Youth Today, take your pick), you better dye that Italian mane of yours blonde. In fact, one look at Italy, and you'll find that the Italian dark Signora (I'm thinking Anna Magnani, Gina Lollibrigida, heck even Sofia Loren) no longer exists. What's funny in Italy -- a country that should look a lot like say, Japan, in terms of hair hues -- is that the country is in fact, quite blonde. The Italians will be quick to inform you it's the influx of the Vikings who once ruled Sicily...I say it has a bit more to do with the conquering of Italy's populace by the French: L'Oreal, that is.
Look a bit closer and you'll see that only half the population is platinum blonde on the level of Paris Hilton...the women. Just as a key to becoming the Apple of Berlusca's eye, or, an up and coming politician...here's what your portfolio might look like: It's his second wife, "Veronica" (name changed to protect the boring and nondescript), Patrizia & Noemi...

Check out the slide show on the left.

Numbers Games

Yesterday, I was contacted by my gym with an enticing offer on my renewal: “Same as last year, with 2 months free!!!, or, "Choose a fab FREE trip offer for a weekend -- yours, for only 185 euro more!!!”
What a deal. Almost too good to be true. It was.

Anyone who has lived in Italy long enough knows they need to park their American-style FREE offer mentality right at the front door. America, with its gross “all-you-can-eat buffets”, if tried in Europe, would have been bankrupt right after that very first Thanksgiving dinner. In Italy, don’t even THINK about going up to the buffet table twice, and, try piling it on, you’re charged more in the end. Even McDonalds charges extra for the ketchup.

In Italy, your Frequent Flyer mileage card is yours, for only 150 euro per year! Every month you receive an update of services on your CartaViaggio by Italy’s illustrious TrenItalia, the company that has singlehandedly taken price gauging to new heights; except the listing includes all the new services you no longer will be receiving, along with a price increases of the most basic ones. They even tried getting us to clean up the cars for them; that didn’t fly, so pretty soon we’ll soon be charged for cleaning service alà RyanAir…

Collect points at your Grocery store or Gas Station? You can get your free toaster or CD player by submitting 10,489 of them (the equivalent of 2800 euro in expenses), and then claim your gift for another 129 euro – free! Every Christmas, I present myself at the GS store to get a truly free gift, only to find they’re ‘sold out’, try back tomorrow. Too bad the points expire at year end. I’ve yet to get as much as a mere frying pan out of GS.

After all, this is the country that has duped 40 million workers into believing they actually get an extra paycheck each August holiday and Christmas. In a purely 3-card monty card game, they have merely taken your annual pay and divided it by 14 months. For a country based on mistrust of every institution, there isn’t an Italian in Italy who believes this last statement to be true. Don’t ask me why.

As for my Wellness Town offer? The two months are NOT free – you just don’t pay for 2 months straight away, and then pay an added amount each month for the remaining 10 months. Saying, 'no thanks' to the “free” trip, I received another call later:

“We have a new offer to make you. If you renew now, you’ll receive a free trip along with your membership.” Is it a case of severe Cognitive Dissonance, or, simply hoping you have early onset Alzheimers???

We're the Ones we've been Waiting for

Last week, Libya’s Gheddafi caused a big stir – not least for his Bedouin tent he set up on the backside of the Vatican as a ‘camp’. Taking his cue from the former Pope (Innocent X) whose family once owned that very Pamphilj park, he received you on your own turf; not the other way around. But the biggest flap was that, obviously stricken by being so close to an Infidel H.Q., he became caught up in prayers – so rapt, he kept an entire auditorium of people at the Foreign Ministry waiting for 2 hours before they said, Amen or Inshallah and went home without hearing what Gheddafi – in his first formal visit in decades – had to say.
This story is incredible for 2 reasons:

1) A man who owns dozens of palaces replete with your standard fare concubines, pools, and surely hammams (I don’t know this for sure, but I reference Saddam Hussein) has the audacity to camp out when visiting your land? I know Italy has some pretty spurious hotels, but really…The Cavalieri Hilton is that bad?
In fact, if he really wanted to show some chutzpah – having the Bedouin chief drop a few petrol dollars on expensive hotels, restaurants, limos and girls well…that would have spoken volumes over his Lawrence of Arabia farce.

2) The Italians actually waited for 2 full hours to receive their guest? I would have lasted about 22 minutes myself. But, this, in retrospect, is the least preposterous. After all, there isn’t a city clerk, official or politician who shows up on time. It’s some weird throwback to the days when they didn’t have watches, and sundials had yet to be fine tuned. Or, in the very least, when Princes and Kings would receive you in their bedrooms, so you could make your case while they dressed – never mind rushing off to a proper meeting.

But these aren’t the two reasons I truly had in mind. After all in Italy, no meeting, committee, concert, or even play starts when they say it will. Guests of honor barely make an appearance once they show up 40 minutes behind schedule -- lest they appear as though they have nothing else to do. I once begged a meeting on the parks nearby to just begin without the City Official, after all, he didn’t know squat about what the experts present knew anyway. After 50 minutes and obvious restlessness on the part of the participants, they started without him. I left after another 40mins later and he still hadn’t shown up.

So, really, not waiting for Gheddafi was unbelievable, not because of the obvious int’l faux pas both by host and guest alike (although I applaud Fini's response), but really, the fact that they a) waited so long in the first place (if you’re non-Italian) and b) the fact that they didn’t just keep sitting there (if you’re Italian).

Nonetheless, the applause when announcing the closure of the event was, I’m sure, cathartic for all concerned. Maybe now the politicians will think twice before keeping us waiting for their entrance.