"Blitzed out on sun and art"

I've been reading Douglas Adams' "The Salmon of Doubt" by the poolside in the evenings, and that's how he described his time as a youth in Florence: "blitzed out on sun, cheap wine and art." It stuck with me, because A) I am, indeed, blitzed out on art. I am overindulging on art. Bernini, Michelangelo, Raffael (their names sometimes have several spellings and I can't remember, bear with me). Extravagent trompe l'oile ceilings (again, sp?), marble tiled floors, mosaics, oil paintings, gardens, statues. Statues! I never really loved statues before, but the works of Bernini and Michelangelo are so amazing. I saw M's "Pieta" in St. Peter's Basilica today, and I couldn't pull myself away.

Let me back up. It turns out that the Vatican Museum is free on the last Sunday of every month! So I endured long lines and went to the museum and St. Peter's. The lines made 6 hours feel like 10, but it was an amazing day. The Sistine Chapel was a madhouse, a zoo of people. But you know what? That makes me happy. At least half of that crowd is there because they love art. They want to see something beautiful, and they stood for a while, using cameras even though they weren't supposed to (I'm guilty too) (but FLASH, for, er, Pete's sake! Come on!), and they were there under the roof of the major portion of a master's life's work. It makes me glad to know that so many people want to be affected by art. I hope even more of them were. The whole room is just overwhelming. I think we take for granted lots and lots of pretty things being achievable and presented at once in our information age, but it's just amazing when you stop and think that the ceiling and one huge wall of the very large chapel is the work of one man. All those incredibly beautiful forms each in their own poses, all those shadows and details, all the shapes that are carefully planned out, all the color expertise.

St. Peter's, at first, was too much. All I saw was marble. It looked like a hideous display of wealth. But then I started to notice how light came through the occuli and hit certain statues, or how each niche had an entombed body or a masterpiece and I made my rounds 3 times (no small feat; St. Peter's is the biggest church in the world). There was a Pieta statue in white marble, behind glass, and I couldn't pull myself away. It was incredibly moving, and Mary was so beautiful. Then I read in my guidebook afterword that the Pieta is by a young Michelangelo and is "incredibly moving." Well. Unfortunately, I could not find the dark medieval statue of St. Peter, which I've kind of wanted to see since I was a kid. But the back portions of the church were closed off, and I assume crowd management is a little different on the free Sundays, so he may have been on vacation from crowds for the day.

I also went into the basement to see the tombs of past popes. It felt like a sanctified place. It's hard to explain; I'm not Catholic but I felt the emotion and the oldness. I don't believe that any human being is more hallowed than the next, but I do believe in the energy of people's faith and their needs as well. Am I saying too much for a school blog? So be it. I've been studying Cathedrals, for Pete's (there it is again) sake and this is me, Jessi, who has a blog devoted to spiritual essays. So it was bound to go there.

At many of the basilicas I've visited, I've seen people overcome with emotion. Today I saw a woman openly weeping. I think it's a beautiful thing. Being in these enormous temples so lovingly and carefully created makes me almost wish I were here for a pilgrimage, not just the architecture and art. But as a human being and a spiritual person (and an art lover), I don't think the experience is lost on me. Just different maybe. But I wish I had a sign, like the hand cross, that showed my reverence and emotion outwardly.

When I got back to the campsite, (you guessed it) I went for another dip in the pool. Life's rough.

I had a new tentmate last night, but when I went to bed she was sleeping so I couldn't meet her. When I got up and ready she was sleeping. When I came in after getting back she was sleeping. I was starting to worry, or at least wonder if she was recovering from something major. I met her tonight, and it turns out she's a teacher at the high school level. Aha. It turns out that she decided to give herself a week to just relax, because normally she's off and running.

She has a bubbly personality and has traveled to 27 countries on her own and LOVES it. So her attitude is contagious; though I'm not an outgoing person, I don't feel so weird about being here by myself. She's very interesting; originally from Wisconsin, she teaches in England to afford traveling on "holiday." And she meets people wherever she goes, which I wish I could do! I'm glad to have met her.

Well, until the next report! Oh, yes, back to B) Douglas Adams' saying also stuck with me because on my last night in Florence I sat in the rooftop terrace bar of the hostel and ordered a glass of white wine for 1 Euro and looked out over the lit domes of Florence. You know, all that dragging-suitcases-up-flights-of-stairs and stiff-shoulders and sorry-I-don't-speak-blank and how-much-have-I-spent-today really is worth it for the little moments. Just tonight I was reviewing my photos of ancient cathedrals and thought, how amazing it was to be there. Already I'm nostalgic. It's like a grand whirlwind tour and I'm still taking in things I saw a month ago. When it all catches up with me I'll probably be in tears at how beautiful the buildings are.

The only thing that could be better would be if someone were here to share it all with. I really really wish that my family were here. Not so much because I miss them, because that's normal; Montana is as far away, it seems, as Italy, and I can never call my Dad because he keeps ungodly hours. But because I wish they could see it all. I thought of Mom in Canterbury, with the English walls and colorful doors and gardens. I think of Courtney in the art museums...well, I think of all my family members in the art museums. I thought of Courtney in the costume museum. I think of Tucker when I come across Roman helmets or shin guards or anything knight-ish. I wish Megan and I could be playing together at the pool. I'm always taking photos not for myself but for them.