a prolonged re-entry

Since saying goodbye to my hippie stint in the late 60’s I have given at least a fair impression of being a responsible adult…pastoring a church, raising five children, keeping a budget and all the other wonderful duties/joys of being a wife and mother.  I am in my sixth week away from home without family….an intentional break from most of what is familiar and comfortable and struggling a bit with feelings of guilt as my husband cares for my bulldog, pays the bills, and makes his own way alone for the first time in 30 years.

Dan and I took a taxi to the train station on Friday the 10th. He helped me navigate with my "motor home"bag to the right platform. I got to Pisa and took a train to the airport where I really started feeling the sting of my excessive luggage.  Ryanair’s 59 euro flight to Paris cost me a new bag and an 85 euro charge for a second bag. They are merciless enforcing weight and size regulations…

I have blogged some about my trip for two weeks in France, Switzerland and back into Italy. I do believe I would have done more writing if I had simply journaled in my Moleskin instead of having the constraint of concern about punctuation and good form.

As of this post, I am still not home. I am with my youngest daughter in a coffee shop in Fremont, Michigan where we have been processing her life changes as well as my own. I leave tomorrow to meet my husband in Charlotte and then onto SC for a few days to see a new grandson….home on the 4^th to my beloved Bunter.

I have been working some with Gelb’s book since Florence. I have shared it with a number of people who, like me, are impressed that it is our “textbook” for this class.

Concerning jet lag….Bonine is the “once a day travel tablet” that makes a flight relaxing and wards off any possibility of air sickness. I took two tablets as per the directions…but a 250 pound man also takes two tablets.  I left Europe on Friday the 24^th. Today is the 29^th and I am still nodding off in the middle of a conversation.  Am so thankful that my re-entry is prolonged and I have a driver.

The time in Italy will be journaled and processed for a long season. Besides having children, this month in Europe may be the most profound and paradigm-altering experience in my short life. I am grateful to each of you for being a part of it.

happy cows

Day 25 of this journey. I originally intended to stay in Italy for the final half of my four week trip to Europe. I think this was mostly because I felt more secure after two weeks in Florence…with both the language and the culture. I began to see Florence as “home” after several days. I knew how to get around without too much help and could find an inexpensive meal and glass of wine. I also had friends in Florence, a great room, and the Gonzaga campus around the corner. Breaking free from these comfortable moorings I expanded my European borders and ventured into France.

Yesterday I traveled by a small touring van over the Alps. We went through ancient villages, some remarkably austere in treeless  environments and others with busy sidewalk cafes full of climbers and their gear...drinking glasses of beer and huddled over maps of the mountain. These are mostly young Frenchmen with a clear passion for the climb. Back where I have been basing in Les Houches some of these climbers stay in a bunkhouse and work with their ropes on a large boulder in front of the hotel.

One of the outstanding experiences yesterday's excursion was a stop made as we descended from the top of the Alps into Italy. As I got out of the van, I heard what I thought were church bells that resounded out of a green mountainside…I could not determine the source until the driver pointed to a large herd of very large black cows. Each had their own bell and every movement made while grazing was a note in this incredible sound feast. We walked up to a small building selling snacks patronized by what seemed like local customers. One gentleman carrying  a wooden board with several cheeses, sausage slices,  and crusty bread stopped to show us his purchase and explained that these were all products of these delightfully melodic cows.  I ordered a glass of red wine (2.5euros) and walked to a nearby building where a young girl dressed in high rubber boots was tending  to the  cleaning of what is apparently the home of these productive cows.

I hesitate to assign an emotion of happiness to a cow, but if ever a cow had a reason to be happy, these cows do. There is a sense of humane care that contrasts sharply with the stockyards in Herford, Texas or the stories I have heard about Cargill or the horrors of the  meat packing plants in California. The sausage seemed fit for a vegetarian.

a trip to the top

The highest mountain peak in Europe is Mont Blanc at Chamonix, France. To enhance my many shifting paradigms, I decided that a trip to the top was in order. My mother hated high places. My first recollection of her fear was on a vacation to the Grand Canyon. My dad was teasing her by driving dangerously close to edges of the road unprotected by guardrails. All my life I have carried a fear of heights…an irrational and debilitating fear.

The decision to go was relieved by the comforting possibility of a storm that would shut down the gondolas. The storm did not come and I hesitantly began my trip to the top about noon. No one else in the car seemed moved as I was inside. They were laughing and talking as if they were at their own dining room table on solid ground. To me this was a huge step that no one else was sharing….except my family back home who were befuddled at this out-of-character activity. My husband watched me hit the ground in tears at the Grand Canyon as he took my son to peer over the edge of a deadly dropoff.

My anxiety slipped away after the first few yards up the mountain. I was comforted by the calm faces of the people….most especially an oriental man who stood in front of me in the corner of the car. The scenery is difficult to communicate with most of my available adjectives.

I stayed at the top for about 45 minutes and then descended to the midway point where I enjoyed a   glass of wine and hiked among the rocks and wildflowers. I am not sure that my fear is gone…at least it has been challenged and I feel a greater courage in me that I think will serve me in other aspects of my life.

after florence: France/ Chamonix and Mont Blanc

I was talking with one of my professors last week about blogging. We were required to journal our trip and responses to lectures/ field trips. I remarked that I was logging most of this content on my blog. He told me that he did not blog because it was a slow means of recording...trying to write an engaging and clear piece and keep the grammar etc straight at the same time. Writing for the world..however small or large the audience..is much different than recording ponderings in my black Moleskin...but I am on an exciting journey and am willing to risk appearing sloppy for the sake of sharing.

I left Paris yesterday and arrived in Chamonix early this morning.The French countryside is more lovely down here than it was as I viewed it a few days ago from the air when I flew in from Pisa.  Chamonix is east of Geneva and a charming community with the dominating presence of Mont Blanc as a backdrop. Mont Blanc is the highest mountain in Europe and draws trekkers and tourists.

This evening I did laundry and took a walk down the winding streets of Chamonix. I picked a sidewalk cafe among many choices...this one had frites...I normally do not eat french fries, but in France, French fries seem to be the order of the day...a cheap dinner (1.90 euros).  I engaged the man behind the counter asking if he had been up to Mont Blanc. He laughingly told me "no"...just the easy way...in an airplane. He, in turn, asked me if I was going up. I told him that I was thinking about embracing the challenge tomorrow....I told him "scary" and he asked how long it would take.  I said 20 minutes and he looked at me puzzled. The language differences make these dialogues foggy. I took my frites and continued my slow walk back to the hotel.

As I walked eating my frites (much like McDonalds only thicker), I pondered our conversation and laughed out loud when it hit me that he thought I was trekking up the mountain, not riding a gondola.

Unfortunately, "Do you speak English" is my constant refrain in Europe. It feels selfish to expect others to figure out what I am needing. Not knowing the language aborts many engagements that might otherwise be enriching and creates a degree of isolation.

Today as I was showering, I used the upsidedown bottle of "Fusion"...a practical and wonderful combination of body and facial wash as well as shampoo. I think I may begin to photograph these kinds of notable differences in the two parts of the world....I am staying another night in Chamonix and then on to the eastern coast of France...

upending virtue

"Everyone sees who you appear to be, few sense who you really are." Machiavelli The Prince

I invested almost 30 years in the Church promoting virtue…mostly in the form of the Biblical fruit of the spirit…love, joy, peace, patience, gentleness, goodness , faithfulness, kindness , selfcontrol…components of moral goodness that most of us would embrace as virtue.

Cicero articulates virtu as consisting "especially of always acting honorably and morally."It is clear that Machiavelli’s "virtu" is nothing equivalent to these conventional ideas of virtue…though it may insidiously and falsely present the appearance of goodness.  Machiavellian virtue is not practiced for the simple sake of virtue but is the presence of personal qualities that a prince would find necessary to acquire in order to maintain his state and achieve great things. 

Where I would tag a virtuous person as one comfortable with moral goodness and one I would count on to embrace that morality consistently, Machiavelli has a kind of chameleon-like virtu that changes with circumstance to promote results that favor the unity of the state. "The prince, above all must acquire a 'flexible disposition'....capable of varying his conduct from good to evil and back again as 'fortune and circumstance dictate.'"

Machiavelli's strategy for this flexiblity is found in the two categories of virtue: primary and secondary. The secondary virtues are used to form the impression of the primary. Primary virtues are intangible and are exemplified in virtues such as compassion, faith, sincerity, and prudence. These are paired with secondary or tangible virtues to create an appropriate persona. I will give an example to make this tactic clear.

If I want to make others think I am religious--an intangible virtue--I will reinforce with a public declaration of my generosity. Maybe I will give a large sum to a missionary outreach or to the poor...letting my left hand (and all who will hear) know what my right hand is doing (Matthew 6:3).

It is important to Machiavelli that a leader be willing to do evil by force or cunning when the circumstances seem to warrant while at the same time maintaining the guise of morality. It all sounds quite diabolical until we begin to see how these ideas play out practically in our politics. The bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki would be an example.

leaving italy for france

At the Uffizzi Musei in Florence today...standing in front of Botticelli's "Birth of Venus"..I was overwhelmed at this amazing place. It's huge and full...full of more art than I ever saw in the coffee table books that were my introduction to so many great pieces when I was small. I may one day regret leaving before seeing it all, but it seemed I was rushing and it was difficult to see some of the major pieces because of the crowds.

Tomorow is our last class and our last tour. We will conclude with a dinner tomorrow evening here in Florence. I have been keeping a hand written journal that I will work on transcribing onto this blog over the next few weeks.

Friday morning I leave for Paris and plan to connect back here as I have internet.

art in its context

A few days ago I sat on a bench below and at the backside of Michelangelo's David in the Accademia in Florence. It was a reverential and even contemplative experience...I elected it to be such. Not everyone enters that spiritual sphere when looking at notable works of art. I think we must be intentional or find ourselves moving with the crowds in a shallow viewing and a token acknowledgment of amazement as we head to the bookstore to buy a postcard.


In class we had discussion about the ways of seeing art in its context vs. outside its context. It seemed that the general consensus is that it is indeed a good thing.. more accurate and confirming..to view art in the place in was created to be..."The Creation" on the ceiling of the Sistine is in the context of a huge ceiling with similar forms and involves the physical act of looking upward to see it (empathy for all of his looking up in painting it). It is set in the atmosphere of reverence of the church. The idea is that putting that painting on a T-shirt alters the experience intended by the artist. It most certainly does. But beyond this truth is the fact that it is and will continually be replicated.


As I walk down the streets of Florence I see lots of Davids. There are keychain Davids, postcard Davids, plastic Davids in different sizes, color book Davids, books about David, magnet Davids, coffee cup Davids, and T-shirt Davids. As  a kid, I probably first saw David in a coffee table art book in my home. I have to wonder if my appreciation of David in the "flesh" is enhanced by my history with David on paper.


Not everyone elects to see or is able to come to Florence. Seeing David in Florence is an exclusive privelege. The rest of the world sees him in a foreign context...beauty spread abroad. Growing up my mom exposed us to good art by renting paintings from the library and changing them out regularly.  I have often wondered how much her efforts worked toward planting in me a hunger for beauty....even eventually a desire to come to Florence to see some of those very works in their context.

trompe l'oeil

A contemporary sculpture in front of the palace...

The Pitti Palace and Boboli Gardens was the get-away "home" of the Medici family. It is across the River Arno from Florence downtown. A group of us took an extended stroll/climb in the vast Boboli Gardens that spread up the hills and on the west side behind the Pitti palace ---investigating arched pathways, discovering unfamiliar plantlife, and gazing at the view of Florence from several locations.

There are numerous exhibits in the Pitti Palace. Our tickets gave us access to several. One was Russian jewelry and artifacts....I am not a jewelry and knick-knack fan, but it was incredible nonetheless. Another was a history of costume/dress. We initially thought this exhibit was going to be dress from the time of the Medici..and it was in part, but it spanned centuries.

We could not take pictures in parts of the palace. I'm not sure why we are prohibited in some places, no flash in others, and anything goes in others. For instance, in Rome at St. Peter's there are no limits on photography, but no pictures are to be taken in the Sistine Chapel (some cameras did go off but the crowd was way too large to discover the transgressor). Allowable noise or talking is another enigma. In St.Peter's nothing was said about talking or laughing...no "silencio!"... but in the Sistine the guards were contiually reminding visitors to be quiet. In the Pitti Palace our group discussion about a strange looking 19th century dress led to some elevated noise and a stiff rebuff from the guards reminding us where we were. (St Peter's? no..a dress show).

The part of the palace that most resonates with me is a painted room. The 17th century painters, Colonna and Miteili, worked in partnership for 20 years. Between 1637 and 1639 they created a room in the palace for the wedding of Ferdinand II. It represents a palace within the palace. The work of "quadrajura" is the creation of illusionistic space. In this room it is difficult to discern whether the ceiling and walls are painted or sculpted. It was here where I received my second scolding..."do not toucchhh de wulls". I was not touching the walls...I was looking closely to decide what was real and what was painted...a trompe l'oeil masterpiece!

attending to art

My central interest in the Galleria dell'Accademia was the David sculpture by Michelangelo. I don't want to  diminish the Bertolini  and Inglesi works, the Pozzi,  or the Prigione --also done by Michelangelo...but David's size, his placement in the Accademia, and my entrance into the hallway leading to his form through a heavy lavender drape could only have been better had I been listening--at the same time-- to Mussorgsky's exalted Bydlo from Pictures at an Exhibition on my ipod (with the volume turned up to drown out the valley girl dialogue going on nearby).

I sat on a bench below David's left side and began to do some gesture drawing...and then I stopped and simply attended to him...noting the form, the texture, the shadows, the lines, the details of his feet, his hair, his veins---really seeking to look deeply and carefully....and quietly.

Italy is not much different from the U.S. in our human resistance to attentiveness and reflection. The crowd gathered at David's feet was not quiet...at least not noticeably or generally. David, Bertolini, and the whole group of artists in the Accademia warrant our internal silence...a shutting of the mouth for a few moments...to embrace the form and its creator..and to hear our own internal response to the deed of remarkable creation.

a humble family

I am hoping that Blogger allows me to post some photos here soon. The upload feature has not worked the last couple of days.


Years ago when I moved to my current home ...a resort community in southern NM, my real estate agent suggested that one of the ways to keep taxes low on property was to make the outside look humble for the assessor and spend my money on the inside. According to the BBC film: The Medici: Godfathers of the Renaissance this kind of approach to prosperity was advocated by the Medici fathers in 15th century Florence. Keep the outside simple...travel on a donkey etc....or so the story goes.


The opulence of Medici properties in Florence puts this paradigm in question. The Capella di Medicee and the Palazzo Medici --wealth incarnate....is beyond the imagining of my middle class (New Mexico) mind and experience. This is affirmed even more in Pitti Palace and Boboli Gardens--the "vacation" home across the Arno River from Florence.


In a brief discussion with some fellow students we likened the life of the Medici with the straining need for privacy and exclusion of modern day high profile individuals such as move stars and political figures. Their position necessitates finding places apart from the crowds.


Our time immersed in the lives of the Medici was followed by dinner, vino, and a touch of lemoncello.

a priestly view of florence

We met in the hotel lobby shortly after arriving in Florence. Dr. Caputo recruited Father Bruno to give us a brief walking tour of the city. Bruno is an instructor at Gonzaga-Florence and has lived in the city for 30 years. He served as our lively guide to some of the secrets of Florence.


Numerous times Bruno remarked... "Florence was built on towers." He would point out the many towers that are today imbedded within other structures, though many still stand alone. "Watch for the layers" pointing to the evidence of the oldest structure overlaid by other facades and additions. A circle of concrete below the Duomo indicates the landing place of the golden sphere that plummeted from the very top of the church.


Had I taken the care to jot notes in my Moleskin while Bruno shared, I would have more to post about this delightful and engaging personalized tour. I will add later as I remember details.


Bruno and Dr. C invited us to dinner at La Spada (sp). He told us to ask for the Bruno special.


We arrived at La Spada at 6:30. We were seated and told that the serving did not begin for thirty minutes...so we sat and talked..at this point there were eight of us. Enoch, Dr. C, and Dr. Carey joined us later. This was another of several evenings in this past week containing common elements: great pasta, amazing desserts, good wine, and excellent conversations. About 2/3 through the meal and already several bottles of vino, Fr. Bruno arrived with a magnum of red vino as a gift to the Gonzaga group. The conversations and laughter increased in volume..."Fine wine is art you can drink. It is liquid quintessence of the earth's bounty: proof, as Benjamin Franklin observed, 'God loves us and loves to see us happy.'"

on to florence

I have a warm place inside for Rome. When the wheels of our plane hit Italian tarmac, a girl across the aisle let all the passengers know how happy she was to be here by shouting a loud affirmation ...I quietly shared her enthusiasm. This is the first real visit to European soil for me and Rome is the first place I engaged. I think it will always be special for that reason.

After three days of intensive guided sightseeing, cappuccinos at sidewalk cafes, and pastas between generous glasses of vino, we left to do the same in Florence…Firenze.

Our luxury bus took us on a three hour journey through the hills between Rome and Florence with intermittent views of ancient walled cities and neatly groomed fields. At one point I remarked to Dr. Caputo that the lay of the land looks a bit like Kansas if it weren’t for the Apennines east of us.

About halfway to our destination we stopped for lunch and a bathroom break. Italian fast food is supreme. I had a tiny cappuccino, some kind of flatbread with cheese and spinach, and some amazing French fries…for about five euro.

The language issues are not huge for Americans in Italy. Mostly the Italians are acclimated to American tourists, but it feels a bit selfish to expect them to figure us. I really want to learn the language ….and the coins…We place little value on our coins but Italian coins are valued at whole euros. What feels like a couple of dollars in my pocket may be 10 or 12.


We arrived at our hotel in Florence early in the afternoon...The Atheneum on Via Cavour and prepared for a brief overview of the city with our instructors and an impromptu tour guide...

the opulence of the basilica

Our final morning in Rome I decided to take a quick look at St. Peter's Basilica down the block from the hotel. Dr. Caputo jokingly spoke of the luminous affect on us of his visit to St Peter's Basilica...that if we did not have time to go we could just be next to him and enjoy the glory of it all. Probably not, but his enthusiasm was convincing.

I had not planned for the Basilica. It has not been a part of my religious life these past 30 years, but it has occupied a large place in the hearts of countless millions through history and that morning I decided to make the effort to walk the few hundred feet to this popular tourist attraction.

When Jen and I got to the entrance there were no lines. It was early and the Vatican yard only had a couple of hundred wandering about. We went through a security set up similar to a small airport and walked up the stairs into the portico and the large entrance.

My experience with religious opulence is the Crystal Cathedral in California. St. Peter's has raised the bar on high-end ecclesiastical architecture and artifact and for this I am glad. I really want to establish a more generous vocabulary so that I never again use the words "pretty", "awesome", "incredible", or "amazing." Until then I am left with those few paltry adjectives to wrap around a verbal picture of my experience in that place.

The excellence of the Basilica's artistic content is sobering. The overload of massive sculptures and paintings as well as the forms of ceilings and designs on the floors called to me for an alternate way of viewing. I found myself seeking an attention to tiny details rather than the whole...looking at texture and careful attention to small sections of sculptures and paintings rather than trying to gather it all in a whirlwind tour.