The Last Post - An Epilogue

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An early landing on a crisp Sydney morning that hints at the arrival of autumn, a fact that is confirmed as we look out from our balcony at home to see yellowing leaves and already bare trees. How different from the scene one month ago when we left, and a sharp counterpoint to the green leafiness of the northern spring we’ve just experienced during our travels. These signs of growth and decline spark a recollection in me of some lines from Wallace Stevens’ poem “The Comedian as the letter C” ….

What was the purpose of his pilgrimage,
Whatever shape it took in Crispin's mind,
If not, when all is said, to drive away
The shadow of his fellows from the skies,
And, from their stale intelligence released,
To make a new intelligence prevail?

….and makes me wonder if our travels have chased away stale thoughts and shadows to allow a new intelligence to emerge. Here are a few of the thoughts that spring to mind.

Rome has shown us how objects and ideas from vastly different places and spaces can sit comfortably side by side, complementing rather than clashing. That they do sit so easily in each other’s company doesn’t come from a single, contrived intervention but results from a slow organic process of layering, reuse, and adaptation by people living their daily lives, generation upon generation upon generation. And this innate vibrancy is very much alive today, reflected in an image we saw in the Zurich airport both as we were travelling to Rome and on our way home. It was an advertisement for Lavazza coffee, showing a modern interpretation of the classic image of the she-wolf suckling Romulus & Remus. And it looks just as right as the bronze statues of the Capitoline wolf, the Giancolo monument to Garibaldi, or even the silver paste-ups on the Ponte Sisto, some of which have appeared in our earlier posts.

We have learnt about simplicity and balance through many threads in our travels, but none more so than through our culinary adventures. Italy and Spain share much in common in regard to their respect for good quality produce, and creating dishes that allow their ingredients to shine by ensuring both freshness and uncomplicated preparation. Traditional dishes of Italy had another element that really stood out for us - balance, in both flavour and texture - with sweet, sour, salty, bitter, silky and crunchy each bringing their voices to the plate in a way that, in our experience, we usually only find expressed so fully by Japanese food. In particular it is the Italian use of bitters that really sets it apart - in salads of puntarelle or wild greens, a preference for bitter drinks both as aperitifs and digestives at either end of the meal, and even in gelato (ahh the divine impossibility of the Barolo wine and quinine gelato at San Crispino lingers with me still). The stark contrast with the sugar driven palate of the new world makes for a refreshing change that ultimately speaks of a broader view about life embracing both the bitter and the sweet - one of the fruits born from two millennia of civilisation I suppose.

Another learning from Italy revolves around rhythm and time, although I’m finding it hard to articulate its exact nature as it is more a feeling than a clear idea. In Rome this rhythm showed itself in the way people moved, neither rushing nor stopping, but maintaining a steady and constant beat; it feels like the city’s heartbeat. Coupled with this constant movement is a capacity to take time to attend to the fundamentals - conversation, food, and courtesy - that mark the difference between merely existing and living fully. This appears in a myriad of places. In the midst of the traffic madness of Rome’s Piazza Venezia where some 10 lanes (or what passes for lanes) of traffic criss-cross in a largely unstructured way the smartly uniformed traffic police who flamboyantly direct traffic make time to chat to each other, give directions to lost motorists, and even grab a short break. And the traffic continues to flow with virtually no incidents. In all our encounters Italian people invariably made time for us even when they were obviously under pressure, ensuring that we were made to feel welcome and persisting with our attempts at speaking Italian. Perhaps when one lives in the Eternal City, in order to ensure the proper running of life a minute or two either way means very little in the greater scheme of things - I’m not sure if the Italians have heard of the expression “time poor”, or if they have they have wisely chosen, in the way of the emperor’s new suit of clothes, to dismiss it.

And for the final reflection, has the shadow of Spain been driven away from my skies to be replaced by Italy? Well Dianne certainly made an excellent call in regard to Rome being my kind of city, after I declared Paris just a bit too pretty. And to this end I would return to Italy in the blink of an eye. However the answer to this question grew from an almost inconsequential trigger during my last few days in Italy when I heard some Spanish being spoken in a street in Florence. Suddenly I became acutely aware of the difference in the rhythm of the two languages despite their substantial similarities. The Spanish staccato holds an energy that excites me while the Italian softness soothes and lulls, and as I continued to reflect on this it spoke to me of the larger differences in my experiences of the two countries.

Italy does have a genteel nature - I lost count of the times I said “Molto gentile” in response to the many kindnesses shown to us by Italian people. This gentility is found not only in its people, but in its food, art and landscape. For want of a better term I might call it a cultural patina - a soft, rich subtlety created by the polishing effect of time’s passage. For the greater part I revelled in it, although at times became frustrated by some of its smallest manifestations - the need to nibble at your breakfast pastry mandatorily wrapped in a serviette so that one’s fingers don’t make contact with it. Contrast this with the tactile nature of Spanish tapas that invite you to pick them up, munch them down, and in the more colourful places (which unfortunately are becoming fewer) discard your serviettes and olive pits onto the floor. Leaping from the secular to the sacred (and why not - it’s MY blog and I’ll leap if I want to) while Italian churches abound with finely wrought and subtle crucifixion images (Santa Maria Sopra Minerva church near the Pantheon in Rome has a statue of the Risen Christ that has been retrofitted with a bronze “modesty panel”) Spanish churches confront with tortured and bleeding images. And in the time since our arrival back home more of these similar connections unfold for me as I look back on our month in Italy. So in the end maybe the Dolce Vita is a bit too dolce for me, and it is Spain’s energy and immediacy that makes it my place in the heart.

Now it is time for us to hang up our travelling shoes for a while, although no doubt our thoughts and reflections will continue to bubble away as we settle back into daily life. And of course planning and saving for our next trip always hums along in the background. And where will that be? Well we haven’t decided on that just yet, but there has already been some discussion around Spanish possibilities for at least part of the next journey. So thanks to all who have journeyed with us through this blog, especially those who sent messages and comments. We hope that we’ve amused, confused, provoked, tantalised and generally made it worth your while to stop by.
Until the next time Arrivederci Amici.

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Photos

A Shadow From the Skies?
Contemplative face in a fountain near the Pantheon.

Romulus & Remus Reinterpreted
Lavazza coffee advertisement seen in Zurich airport

Taking Time Out
There is always time for the matters of the table.

Make Haste Not Speed
Even frozen in marble this Montemartini statue oozes energy & movement.

Listen To My Heartbeat
The day stirs into action below Chiavari.

Stillness in Action
Amidst the hurly burly of Pz. Venizia there is still time to give directions.

Resting at Trail's End
We two angels have hung up our travelling shoes (for a short while)

Comments

[GemB]

ahhh, a relatively short entry for you, even with the addition of some poetry... it reads like a eulogy - complete with the angel weeping over the headstone. the holiday really is dead and buried already! bring on the next trip!