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Published: August 11th 2008
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(Venerdi) Friday, August 8
Today Cheryl and I took the train to Padua to see the Scrovegni Chapel- a basic in Art History 102 or any Renaissance course. The ride to Padua was too short- only about 30 minutes- and I thought it odd that after only two weeks in Venice, the sight of cars seemed foreign to me. Our reservations for the chapel weren’t until 7:20 pm, so we paid 5 Euros to enter the Civic Museum, the “Eremitani” which was the “regular” art museum.
The museum was a complete and unexpected delight, although the guards herded us like border collies from one room to the next, like fussy French chefs, insistent that one dish should be enjoyed before the next. In spite of the Brown Shirts, however, we were mesmerized by the extent and quality of the collection, and it was great to have a fellow art lover there with me. However, I must confess, the greatest advantage to having Cheryl with me was, on my part, dubious at best: she became my decoy. ☺
Since Mussolini’s former army officers have now retired into the Italian art museum business, the taking of photographs, regardless of flash, is
Really?
Loitering is a crime in places, sure- but standing? That's a new one to me. absolutely forbidden. This is infuriating to me, as postcards are not available of some of the more obscure works that I fancy. So, on the occasion that I find something rare and interesting and off the beaten path, I send Cheryl, who is my petite, adorable classicly-dressed Jackie-O counterpart, to distract the seventy-five year old Italian female guard. In this moment, I cough to disguise the alerting beep from my pocket-size camera switching on, which I have stealthily and illegally snuck into the galleries, and I take a quick photo. Cheryl, your deceiving charm and dedicated reconnaissance work is greatly appreciated.
After a near exhaustive tour of the galleries, we had a quick bite, which included a beautifully fresh panino on foccacia and a Bellini, which were both excellent and reasonably priced: two compliments that I would NOT extend to most Venetian food. Why so harsh? In a quick conversation with Matteo the next day, whom I would not dare mention my dissatisfaction with most Venetian grub, he asked how I was liking Venice. “Così- così,” was my sweet reply (so-so). He seemed mystified, “Perché?” (why?) “Troppo turisti!” I figured was a safe answer that would shield any Venetian
Art crimes
Yes, I snuck this pic of a lovely statue while Cheryl distracted the guards... blame (Matteo’s from Venice originally). “You would want Venice all for yourself?” he said, smartly not allowing enough time for my honest response, “Venice is for everyone.” No comment. But I digress again; boys are so distracting…
Seeing the Scrovegni Chapel (please Google it!) is a task that requires some organization. After pre-paying for your tickets online, a minimum of 24 hours in advance, upon arriving you are escorted into a “holding tank” 10 minutes before you are allowed to enter the chapel itself. Due to the delicate state of the frescoes, and in keeping with its preservation, this sort of “delousing station”, which is disguised as a waiting room with an informative video, levels the climate before allowing the foreign contagion (YOU!) to enter. Once the video has concluded, the sliding doors magically open, and the guard simply nods your permission to enter.
The countdown begins. You and the six to eight other patrons have exactly 15 minutes to view this small chapel, which is painted from floor to ceiling with mesmerizing detail and complexity. The moment I stepped foot through the chapel doors I was completely knocked out- it’s absolutely stunning. Nuff’ said. After some strained necks and shaking our heads in disbelief, Cheryl and I had a quick Prosecco and headed back to the station under a threatening sky.
We made to the station a little too early for the next train to Venice, but just in time to avoid the rapidly approaching thunderstorm. The smell of wet concrete and sight of small bouncing hail was sweet, and the fresh scent of rain wafted throughout the train platforms. It was still pouring when we reached Venice, and to avoid catching my death, I have to admit I illegally hopped a vaporetto and made my way home the driest way possible. (Sorry, Mom!)
Anyway, the rain was spectacular and a welcome relief from the heat. Next time you’re in Italy, take the time to make a day trip to Padua - you won’t be disappointed!
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Mom
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Oh to be so favored to be in Venice on such beautiful days! Enjoy! Love - Mom