HVJ 105 FM

As we were walking in the Vatican gardens, our tour guide pointed out a few radio antennae and some menacingly large satellite dishes. These, apparently, were for broadcasting vatican radio, which the state does in a variety of formats: short wave, medium wave, FM and satellite. It's available in many parts of the world in 47 languages and can be streamed live on the internet here and here.
The channel has a long history, dating back to 1931, when the first papal radio address was a huge sensation. Guglielmo Marconi, a famed radio-technology pioneer and Italian hero, set up the original station at the Vatican (which we saw) and introduced the pope's first speech. We don't have a radio at our apartment, so we haven't listened yet.

Not Taking Pictures of the Sistine Chapel

You can take pictures all throughout the Vatican Museums, except for inside the room that every one of the 4.5 million annual visitors are most likely there to see. I figured it wasn't allowed for security purposes. To keep the flow of traffic moving. However, it turns out that Nippon TV, a Japanese television company, funded the restoration of the chapel's frescoes in the 80s in exchange for exclusive photographic rights. Any book, postcard, print, etc wanting to depict the Sistine Chapel has to buy the copyright from Nippon TV. Talk about a good investment.
Signs like this were everywhere leading up to the Sistine Chapel. Be quiet. Don't fall down the stairs. No photography. Good thing they include that second one, because if someone actually did fall down the stairs, there's no way people would be able to remain silent - or refrain from taking pictures. This picture was taken right before entering, the closest our photo memories would come to capturing the famous work. Or so we thought.
We've seen a lot of rule-breaking in the Vatican. Shorts, miniskirts, flash photography in the Basilica, photography of the Papal tombs. On our tour of the Excavations beneath St. Peter's (which was absolutely amazing), photography was prohibited. Yet, the tour in front of us each took turns flashing away at the box of Peter's bones. In the Sistine Chapel, though, it was particularly egregious. Guards just sat or stood there, not saying a word.
Just how lenient are the Vatican security guards? Well, just look at these people! Carla, our garden tour guide, told us that the man who attempted to assassinate Pope John Paul II was put in jail only because St. Peter's Square is technically under Italian jurisdiction. Had the crime taken place under Vatican City law, he would have just been forgiven and set free. That may have been an exaggeration... but I am inclined to think it wasn't.
Obviously, I decided to break the rules, too - but focused only on the tourists and not the work. It felt a little more honest that way. Plus, it's not like you need my photo to show you what one of the most famous works of art looks like. By the way, back when the pope was striking the copyright deal with Nippon TV, he apparently gave NBC a shot at it, too. They foolishly declined. How this fact hasn't popped up in an episode of 30 Rock, I'll never know.

Vatican Gardens

About one third of Vatican City's territory is covered by gardens and parkland - all of it off limits to the public. Off limits, unless you sign up for a garden tour, which we did. You can buy tickets online here. A bonus: possessing a tour ticket allows one to skip the monstrously long line into the museums, where the tour begins.

This view is of most of the gardens, taken from the top of the basilica dome. The large building in the bottom left of the photo is the "governatorato vaticano," the headquarters of the country's pontifically appointed government. The small building just to the right of it is the head gardener's residence.

We were led by an enthusiastic, older woman who liked to laugh about things and let us look around mostly in peace. There isn't as much to see as one might think; the gardens, being closed to the public, serve as parking for Vatican workers and as a kind of catch-all place to display gifts from small countries. There was a sculpture from Armenia, another from Slovenia, a replica of the grotto at Lourdes (given by France and very tacky), various Madonnas gifted to John Paul II and a huge colony of monk parrots (appropriate name!) screeching in the trees, a present from some forgotten, South American dignitary.
Another knick-knack: a bell celebrating the 2000 papal jubilee. Our guide reminisced about the good old days when she had been allowed to ring it during the tour. Now, a bar is fixed through the clapper, which she seemed to interpret as a personal rebuke. Also in this picture: red-faced men resting. The grounds are "quite hilly," according to the pre-tour warning given by the ticket office, and some people were having a difficult time. I would call the grounds "pleasantly sloping." You needn't be scared.
There is a crew of thirty-seven gardeners employed there, and we saw people at work all over. The main work is done maintaining topiary and lawn, as there are few extensive flower beds. A state of low-grade anticipation seemed to have taken hold - it's spring, but the climate is warm enough that the change from winter isn't dramatic. There will be more blooms in the future, I'm sure, but it's a gradual transition.
Our guide seemed to think that the group had been anxiously awaiting this sight: the papal heliport. I'm not sure that we were as impressed by it as she was. The helicopter is stored elsewhere. Not much was going on.
Inside one hedge, where we weren't allowed to go, is a small vegetable garden, which has existed off and on since antiquity. This little, papal Ape 150 was loaded up with holy weeds plucked (possibly) from amongst the pope's lettuce.
The gardens are closed in the afternoon, when they are available to the pope for his daily walk. It is the only place, according to our guide, where the pope can walk freely in the outdoors. It was a pleasant place, really, and mostly empty when we were there. The only other people were part of a German tour - which we encountered a few times - the workers and the people who were walking with us. It was a relief after the crowds in the museum and the crush in the basilica. I'm sure that the pope is glad to have a simple, open place to wander in peace.

The gnarled dwarf of a tree on the left, between the palm and the photographer, is an olive tree - one of three planted here over 800 years ago.

I can certainly recommend taking a tour of these gardens. Not because they are spectacular, because they aren't. They are pleasant, rather, and have the feel of a private oddity. A few places are quite beautiful, and it's nice to get a sense of near-solitude.

Being shepherded back into the museum was jarring - so many people, such a rush of shouting and movement.

Pope Sighting #2

I'm not sure we're going to get any closer to the pope than this. Every Wednesday at 10:30am, there is a papal audience in St. Peter's Square. Tickets are free and available the day before at the bronze doors. The doors are found at the top of a grand, marble staircase right after the security checkpoint for the basilica. Two spear-wielding Swiss guards in orange and purple striped uniforms designed by Michelangelo stand at their entrance. I had assumed there would be a ticket office near the roped off staircase, but instead, I was directed to go on up and ask one of the Swiss guards for tickets. So, around the short maze of burgundy ropes I went and up the centuries old marble. For some reason, when I'm not sure if someone understands English, I speak like a robot. "Tickets for pope audience? Two?" He simply walked to a desk through the doors and came back with two blue pieces of paper - like the little girl and her mom are holding above. A tour group snapped my picture as I descended. It was all pretty bizarre.
We arrived at around 8:30am to get a good spot, defining "good" as close enough to the front for a good picture and close enough to the back to sneak out if we needed to. There were already quite a few people there and more steadily streamed in. There was a general buzz of excitement and, now and then, a children's choir could be heard over a loudspeaker. You could tell it was live because of the conductor's whispering and occasional page turn. Among the tunes sung was "Falling Slowly" from the movie Once - which was a little weird.
It was a very sunny morning and people came prepared for the campout. Sandwiches emerged from foil and bottles of water from purses. Some people brought books, others ipods, but the smartest accessories were shading devices. Like umbrellas...
...and hats.
Two hours and an entire issue of The New Yorker later, things really started to happen. Two brides and two grooms took their seats on stage, then a group of bishops, nuns and - as someone so sensitively shouted out behind us - "an Indian chief!" A rotund man in a tailed tuxedo, the Swiss guards and the much more intimidating Italian police all took their places as well. The excitement was really building and even as people jostled into position and pushed their way to secure a good view, moods remained light.

Pope Benedict arrived to shouts of "Papa!" in a very slow moving popemobile. It took him across the front of the stage, then down the far left aisle of the crowd, through the middle, up the side, down the center and then up the side again. He passed just a foot away from me three times in all and I can report that he is better looking in person. Nothing but astute commentary here on MerlinandRebecca.com.

The popemobile putted up a ramp onto the stage and he took his seat (in the shade) to begin the audience. Priests from different countries read from the scripture in various languages and the pope gave a lengthy address in Italian. We didn't wind up staying the entire time, taking an opportunity to duck out during an impromptu song from a visiting school group in the crowd. Apparently, the audience lasts around three hours, which would have made a sum of five hours spent in the sun. Our former-USSR-winter-pallor just wouldn't have survived.

Gypsy Kitchens: Linguine with Clams

Last night we made one of the easiest pasta dishes someone can make. We were feeding three - my brother, Luke, is in town - and didn't want to spend a lot of time on dinner. At the grocery, we picked up a kilo of small "vongole veraci," which are also called carpet clams (an unappetizing name). The other ingredients: olive oil, cherry tomatoes, garlic, parsley, lemon zest, red chili flakes and some kind of pasta. We chose linguine, but this dish was very popular in Puglia, where most cooked it with orecchiette. One other ingredient, a splash of whatever (white) wine you are drinking, can be replaced by water or dry vermouth.
The cooking process is fantastically simple. Begin by putting the pasta water on the stove. While it's coming to a boil, rinse the clams well and discard any that are very broken or have opened on their own. In a large pan (larger, in fact than this very big, Lodge skillet) heat up a generous amount of olive oil (1/3 cup, say) with a good dose of chili and the lemon zest. The spice can be varied to suit your taste, but remember that it will be tempered somewhat by being cooked. 1/2 teaspoon to 1 teaspoon zest should be good.

When the oil is quite hot, add the clams and spread them out so that as many of them as possible are touching the pan. Let them sputter and hiss for a minute or two, then splash in a little liquid (wine, water, vermouth). At this point, the shells will begin to open up. You don't have to cover the pan - actually, I would suggest that you keep it uncovered. After a minute or so more, add the cherry tomatoes (quartered), garlic (finely minced) and parsley (however you want it), and stir everything together.
Near the end of the above process, you should have put the pasta into the water. Timing, here, is key - the trick is to undercook the pasta and have it ready to add to the skillet at about the time the clams are done cooking. It NEEDS to be undercooked. This isn't a matter of taste preference, and I'm not talking simply "al dente." The pasta needs to be pretty underdone because it is going to continue to cook in the skillet.

As the clams open up, they release liquid into the pan along with the wine and the tomato juice. It's a good idea to keep the heat somewhat low (medium, really) so that the liquid doesn't boil off. When you add the pasta to the skillet, it's important to mix well so that it gets right down into the juice. The liquid will be absorbed, giving taste and creaminess to the starch.
When the liquid is mostly gone and the pasta is done, scoop it out onto plates and serve right away. The taste is terrific - it's a great way to accentuate both the flavor of the clams and the taste of the linguine (or orecchiette, or spaghetti...) without muddying the dish up with other notes. We ate it perhaps too fast, followed by a delicious salad that Rebecca made: fennel, apple, parsley, pecorino and lambstongue greens.

For those of you who'd like a simpler, more linear version of the recipe-

Ingredients:

2 pounds small clams

1 pound pasta

1/3 cup olive oil

3 garlic cloves, crushed and minced

8-12 cherry tomatoes, quartered

1/4 cup parsley

1/4 cup wine, water or vermouth

1 teaspoon lemon zest*

Red chili flakes to taste

- Begin to bring pasta-water to a boil.

- In the largest pan you have, heat the oil with the lemon zest and chili flakes until very hot.

- Add the clams and cook for two minutes. Add wine, then cook further, uncovered, until most clams are open.

- Start cooking pasta.

- Add tomatoes, garlic and parsley to cooking clams, reducing heat if too much liquid is being lost.

- When pasta is about two minutes away from being al dente, strain and add to clams. Mix everything together well. After two to five minutes - or when most of the liquid has been absorbed and the pasta is done - remove from heat and serve.

*Note: when you zest a lemon, make sure that the fruit is either unwaxed or that you have scrub-cleaned the peel under very hot water.

Pope Sighting #1

Every Sunday at noon, the pope recites a blessing from his window. With the marathon just about finished up, we moved into the square to wait for a glimpse of Pope Benedict. A crowd had begun to gather, the largest we've seen in Vatican City so far and they all seemed to be facing toward the same line of windows. We followed their lead and began to wait.

More and more people arrived with heads tilted upward toward the block of curtained rectangles. One window in the corner had a golden curtain instead of a white one and we assumed that signified "papal." I wanted to get it right because I wasn't sure how long the pope-pop-out would last. When I noticed a large film camera focused up higher than my target, I decided to reposition. I figured, if they don't know where the shot is, who does?

Then, there he was! Pope Benedict XVI himself. What a strange thing it must be for a man who submitted his bishop resignation papers three times and was given a promotion instead to hear his name being chanted by a gaggle of tourists and pilgrims. Poor guy just wants to live in a Bavarian cottage and write books, or so he has said.
The crowd really did go wild for ole Joseph Ratzinger. The blessing lasted a little under an hour and groups of people would squeal when he switched into their language. It reminded me of people WOOing at a concert when their neighborhood is shouted out by the performer. Where all my Latin speakers at?!?
Banners were held up and flags were waved. I caught at least one person sobbing. I can only imagine how crazy it must have been when John Paul II, the rock star pope, gave his addresses. It must have been like Times Square during TRL. Man, the late 90s early 00s were awesome.

Then, Benedict went back inside and the crowd quickly dissipated, streaming out of Vatican City down the street where the last marathoners had passed through just an hour earlier.

The First Supper

As you can tell, we have begun our two weeks in Vatican City - the smallest sovereign state in the world. Since embarking on this trip, we've gotten a lot of "even Liechtenstein?"s, but surprisingly few exclamatory questions about the Vatican. I guess it's because it's chock full of stuff to see. As one of my friends put it, "I could spend two weeks just looking at the Sistine Chapel." We may just spend two weeks waiting on line to see the Sistine Chapel. Anyway, something we've been looking forward to is our rental apartment, as close to Vatican City as humanly possible. And the chance to cook.

Our first dinner was eaten in a sort of hunger panic, so taking pictures of it didn't work out so well. We started off with some never-before-seen large Carr's table crackers with gooey gorgonzola and a homemade Aperol spritz. Seriously, do they have these double-sized Carr's in America these days? We were amazed.

Obviously, one of the best things about having a kitchen is being able to keep and eat leftovers. Merlin had quite a bit of steak left and a bunch of the salad and carrots we made also survived. So, we would up being able to take pictures of our first supper-cum-lunch after all.

And what a lunch it was. Our kitchen not only has a gas stove, an oven, an immersion blender, a juicer, a coffee machine and a dishwasher. It also has a toaster. You can tell you're in Italy when your rental has more than just an electric stove and a microwave. (Though, we're not technically in Italy anymore. So, I guess Vatican Cityians have a respect for cooking as well).

My dinner was decidedly more "lenten" both in size and protein. It consisted of white fish and didn't survive the evening. So, a quick sautee of mushrooms became my sandwich meat.

Marathon Day

Isn't Marathon in Greece?

Yesterday we watched as thousands of runners streamed by the Vatican, which was at the approximate fifteen kilometer mark of the race.
We arrived early at Via della Concillazione - the grand boulevard that runs from the Tiber to St. Peter's Square - to find it almost deserted. There were a few policemen and a couple of photographers, but not many others. Suddenly, a pack of motorcycles and a large stair-car came screaming around the bend, followed closely by a small group of men running very, very fast. We were pretty unprepared and didn't have any time to get into position, so our photos weren't great. This is the group of leaders, though. The man who ultimately won the race, Dickson Kiptolo Chumba, a Kenyan, is the last runner in this picture. He's wearing red and only his arms, shoulders and head are visible.

The frontrunners were gone quickly, leaving us with an empty street again. Having never seen a Marathon in person, I was surprised by the speed of the running (there were much slower people to come), and by how much separation these men had gained after only fifteen kilometers.
A trickle of others began making the turn a few minutes later. The photographers and early fans left when the famous faces had gone by. Soon, though, more people began showing up - both in the race and along the course. This view is up Concillazione, with St. Peter's Basilica in the background.
As the morning went on, the mood became more festive. A band showed up in formal police regimentals and intermittently blasted a snippet of song. Behind them, from speakers mounted to the Vatican colonnade, Sunday mass was being broadcast.
We set up shop near the halfway point of the boulevard, taking pictures of interesting people. The second thing that surprised me about the marathon: how many people wear costumes. These two were part of a group of four dressed as Romans, appropriately enough. When we saw them, we wondered why there weren't more like them.
This guy was one of the most enthusiastic about having his picture taken. A middle aged, breathless couple actually stopped in front of us and demanded that we take their camera and photograph them with the Vatican in the background. A third thing I was surprised by at my first marathon: how many people had cameras strapped to their hats or in their hands. Also, the number of people taking pictures on, looking at or messaging with their phones - as they ran!

The best part of the spectator experience became watching people cross the street. There were volunteers at the crosswalks, trying to dissuade people from crossing. If it was apparent that they were dealing with someone very stubborn, the guards would sometimes allow them to cut through during less-crowded moments. This old man shuffle-sprinted across slowly, weaving his granddaughter (daughter? abducted child?) through annoyed runners.

In general, the bulk of the people we saw were energetic and enthusiastic - this being less than a third of the way into the race, it's good that they were. We left as we began to see more people struggling.
It was a perfect day for running, it seemed. The air was cool, the sky was blue, Rome looked beautiful. We wandered along the colonnade, looking out past the "border" at the athletes, listening to the singing from inside the basilica.

The woman who won the race, Ethiopian Firehiwot Dado, took her shoes off before the finish line, paying homage to the woman who won the 1960 Rome marathon. You can read more about her here. The amazing thing - she took her shoes off and STILL won by more than two minutes.

Things Italian People Like

Pinocchio. Italians seem to really like Pinocchio. Maybe they don't like him as much as they are proud of their great contribution to children's literature. There are a lot of souvenir shops in this country and every one of them is filled with the wooden boy. We saw posters for a Pinocchio themed circus, a Pinocchio themed water park. I honestly saw more Pinocchios than Mona Lisas (though that may be because they're a little peeved that she lives in France).
Gelato. It's not just for tourists who are looking to fill up before Praying and Loving. It's served just about everywhere. What was most surprising to me was the fact that if someone offered gelato, they always offered at least eight flavors. One flavor that kept popping up was Zuppa Inglese (which my mom chose, in the center, above). It was basically gelato with pieces of 'zuppa inglese' in it (sponge cake which has sopped up liquor and been drizzled with cherry and chocolate). Looks: 5. Taste: 8.
Aperol Spritz. Italians like Aperol Spritzes so much that bartenders call it simply "a spritz." It's made with Aperol and either prosecco or white wine and always served with a slice of blood orange. Sometimes a splash of tonic water is added and/or a green olive - which tastes better than you would think. Aperol is like a sweeter, less alcoholic Campari. It sites rhubarb, bitter orange and gentian among its ingredients. For the record, this was the only spritz we ever saw in branded glassware.
Covering Pizza with Prosciutto. Any time we sat in a restaurant that also functioned as a pizzeria, we would see pie after pie come out of the oven and then proceed to have one long, thin sheet of prosciutto after another laid upon it. Vegetable pizza, mushroom pizza, cheese-less pizza, it didn't matter. I worried for the poor waiter who then had to distinguish which pie was which at the table.
The Piaggio Ape. The vehicle was created after WWII by the man who came up with the other most-liked-by-Italians-vehicle, the Vespa. We saw them in every part of Italy except for, thankfully, the autostrada. This isn't an excellent picture, but imagine it loaded up with hay or crates of tomatoes or a few pigs - then, imagine a large, burly man with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth filling the entire cab. Another ape variety we saw quite often had a covered back, like a vespa van as opposed to this vespa pick-up.
Driving Erratically. It's hard to get an adequate illustration of the Italian love of driving erratically, but if this is your average parking job, you can just imagine...
Autogrill. The final car/driving related thing, I promise. Autogrills line the autostrada in Italy and there's even one in the center of Rome, which has constant lines of motorcycles and vespas parked outside. We dined there once and in true Italian fashion, were given a slice of warmed bread and a packet of extra virgin olive oil with our better-than-average packaged salads. When I looked up Autogrill, I discovered that its not only the largest retail-catering company in the world's travel sector, but its majority shareholders are the Bennetons. What's funny about that is the fact that United Colors of Benneton stores have been everywhere. Literally every town has at least one if not three (men, women, maternity/children). What Gap is to the US, Benneton is to Italy. So, basically, Autogrill is like a Gap-owned Cracker Barrel (without the country store).

Honorable Mentions

Good food, good wine and sunglasses should go without saying.

La Pausa. This is the two to four hour break in the middle of the day, which seemed really lovely in theory, but was actually quite frustrating in practice. Nothing makes you feel more American than discovering your need to get errands done trump your admiration for the concept of the siesta.

Wishing Each Other A Good Day. No matter how busy an Italian is, they will always take the time to wish someone a good day as they arrive and as they depart. Two people will interrupt their conversation to simultaneously greet a new arrival. A person standing next to you at a counter, with whom you have made no contact whatsoever, will wish you a good day as you pay up. During our time in Tuscany and Umbria, every "bon giorno" came with a smile.

Emergency Pulls in the Shower. We're pretty sure that it is actually required by law in Italy to have an emergency button in a hotel shower. So, maybe this isn't so much something Italians like as it is something they do. Even still, if you're ever in a shower in Italy and see a string hanging from somewhere high up. Do. Not. Pull. It.