Rome

Having not been to Rome since high school, I was eager to arrive. Our train into the city went smoothly as possible, although crowded. Standing room only and painfully hot, I prayed for high speeds into Rome. I saw a man with a Florida Gator hat on and knew we could immediately bond over SEC football. Not really a Florida fan, I still always support my conference, so I told him the “Ohio State, Property of University of Florida” joke.. As it turns out, he played for Florida, and his son was a linebacker for the Forty-Niners. (the Colts/Broncos/Cowboys trio combo in me prevents me from rooting for San Francisco, I’m a traitor to my city, I know). But I digress. We had a wonderful discussion about the BCS and the SEC and the Pack 10. I’m sure the locals on the train were eager to get away from the Americans and their “football” talk. Talking with he and his wife made the voyage to Rome manageable. A lovely couple, they ended up hanging with us for the day.

St. Peters Basilica was the same as I remember it. Beautifully Baroque, the height of the dome still impresses. The bronze Baldachino, Michaelangelo’s “Pieta” and the ornate work of the basilica were as extraordinary to me as they were in my memory as a girl of fourteen. The adult just had the better camera.

Standing in line to observe the Sistine Chapel wasn’t a thrill, yet the responsibility of the Rome visitor. Since I skipped it on the last trip, I deemed it important this time around. Heading in to the Vatican Museum, the crowd thickening, room after room, thinking each room would soon hail the long awaited chapel. After the second hour of the procession toward the famous ceiling, I repeatedly remarked, (room after room), “are we there yet.” Finally, feet sore, we saw the famous finger of God that everyone wished to see, sat for a bit to rest and realized how hungry we were after such an early morning and long day thus far. So?... when in Rome? Pizza !

Stuffed from our traditional Italian lunch, we scrambled on a cross town bus to the Forum of Rome and the Coloseum. The heat was immense and somewhat overwhelming. I thought to myself, hey, the Trevi Fountain isn’t far from here. Do you think we would get arrested if we took a little swim? We didn’t chance it, although quite tempting.

Our time in Rome was coming to a close. We had timed it just so in order to get the right train. However, any of you having traveled to Italy might understand the train situation. They often either strike, or just go to lunch, …for a long time. We were on the right train, just about 40 minutes too late. As our embarkation time loomed, we began to worry a bit more. Heather suggested we start walking the train to find out if there were any other Princess Cruise passengers. Yelling out “Princess? Princess? Are you Princess,” I have to laugh at what only ended up being Italians on board must have been thinking of the American loudmouths running through the train yelling about Princesses. We must have looked like idiots. We had to live up to our reputation I guess. Having found no other Princess Cruises passengers, the worry became panic as I called the port. Of course, no answer so I called every Civetiviccia number I had. Finally getting a human, I best explained in Englitalian that we were coming…”Please don’t leave us !!” This was starting to be a theme, and one I already knew my mother and I would encounter on this trip. It seems we are always running after a train, a boat, a ferry, a plane or streetcar. We devised a plan to be in the front car of the train and set out on foot to the port if we didn’t see a ship shuttle. Ready as ever as our train pulled in, we hit the platform running. Outside, we see a “Royal Carribean shuttle and asked if we could hitch. We couldn’t understand why they were laughing at us until we got on board and saw that only blue card holding Princess passengers were aboard. Our embarkation time long passed, we remained in hope as we could still see our ship in port. We did however have a game plan devised if we missed. We would head back to Rome, spend the night and head to Florence the next day in order to meet the ship at Livorno the following evening. This however proved not necessary as the beautiful white ship came into view. Shouts of joy and laughter as we approached and saw our wonderful crew out on balconies with wildly exaggerated points of their watches. Knowing we were in the clear, we Royal Carribean stowaways erupted with thanks and applause for the crew of the competitor company ensuring our safe arrival back to our home at sea.

Incidentally, we were numbers 24, 23, 22, & 21 back on board. Our numbers were getting worse.

Istanbul, not Constantinople

Seeming similar to San Francisco, arriving in Istanbul was familiar. Unique architecture meshed with nature create a skyline so picturesque you can watch for hours. Our ship docked across the river from old Istanbul, so we were lucky enough to take in broad sweeping views as we walked the pedestrian bridge toward the city. The lofty spires of Istanbul’s many mosques were enough to keep our eyes full of anticipation. Studying the map, we headed straight to Hagia Sophia. Having studied the building in architorture school, I approached the mosque somewhat academically, studying the plan, section and vaulting. However, it was its character that blew me away. Completely taken in, I was reminded of the first time I visited St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome as a teen. I remember the dome overwhelming me and the wondrousness of building such a vast structure. Experiencing that again, I was floored by the span of the dome. (even whilst scaffolding somewhat blocked my view). The fact that this structure was built in 500 A.D. is astounding. I laugh even now at how architecture tends to level me. What will happen when I finally get to the Giza Plateau and ponder the pyramids?

I believe a striking quality of this now national museum, was the light. Light is a ubiquitous friend. It is what determines translation to film, distinguishes color in painting and brings life to what we build. Without light…photography, art, architecture is flat. It is light that brings this building to life. Every window draws part of the day into the domes and arcades of Hagia Sophia. I tend to visit massive structures in various times throughout a day since they often change as the day and light progresses. This one would be a candidate for that, yet we had to move on as time was precious.

Leaving the Hagia Sophia Museum, we ventured across the park to The Blue Mosque. Being an active worshiping mosque, we visitors were obliged to enter with a reverence and respect traditional of the Islamic faith. We were given clothing to cover our entire bodies, and although not required for Non-Muslims, many women covered their heads. As we entered, the lights suspended from the sculptural iron chandelier called the texture of the tiles to a dance . Cascading shades of blue created a peaceful calm and highlighted each individual dome originally experienced from the outside. I’ve heard many comments on each of these two structures and how one liked each for whatever personal preference. Honestly, I couldn’t decide which space I liked more. They were both so unique in personality and feel; Hagia Sophia with its grandiose space and majestic height, and the blue mosque with its serene calm and ethereal light. I can’t wait to return to Istanbul and spend a little more time in both spaces. But the clock ticks as we traverse Istanbul and the Grand Bazzar was calling our name.

A market or bazaar is such an emblematic representation of a place and its culture. In fact, the markets are the places I tend to enjoy most. No surprise there! Beneath the sales and commercialism often beats the heart of a very specific set of ideals and passions. The markets in Thailand and Cambodia often showcase the silk industry and all it has brought to those economies. Krakow, Warsaw and much of Polish “cloth halls” represent the indigenous amber found sprinkled all over the shores of the Baltic Sea. Parisian flea markets often reflect the toiles and rich damasks of 17th century France. Istanbul, I found, was all about carpets and diamonds. While I’m a huge fan of the beautiful Kilims, hand woven wools, and Persian masterpieces, diamonds could make me run into a flaming building. The Grand Bazzars main “grande” nave was shop after shop of both new and antique jewelry. The child in a candy shop came alive and I sought out supervision in my mother. She, however, proved to be an equal accomplice as she encouraged me to purchase a beautiful rose gold brown diamond ring. I fell in love with this unusual Byzantine styled piece and decided to allow the little girl a toy. Worn by an Armenian woman in the 20’s, I found the piece to combine the period's deco style of the west with the Moorish motifs of the east. A perfect blend in my little ring found in the gateway city of Istanbul. I absolutely love it.

Scrambling around, taking in the Grand Bazzar, mother having a necklace/bracelet set made, I tore through a pashmina shop grabbing every color I thought anyone would ever want to wear. I found several colors I knew some girlfriends would like, and of course, some completely unnecessary ones for myself. Catching sight of the time, my heart jumped as I realized we had 30 minutes to get back to the ship. Our friends Heather and Idona, the wise and safe travelers that they are, had long since left us and head back in peace. Carole and Jessica, however, usually used up every last minute and ended up with mild infarctions as we scrambled back to the boat in panic. Seeing the time, I knew this would be one of those days. Running down the main nave of the bazaar, I tried to raise mom on the walkie – “we have to go, we have to go!!” I finally got her, waiting for her jewelry still unfinished. Panic continued to rise in as we waited for the jeweler to return. Our boat departure loomed...thirty minutes became 25, ticking to 20, on to 15. Visions of the stern of the huge Emerald Princess sailing away started to flash before my mind. Finally returning, the jeweler sent his apprentice to put us on the nearest streetcar in hopes to expedite our trip back over the river. Having no idea where we were or were going, we had nothing to do but blindly trust, and hope he actually knew where our ship had port. Befriending most of the surrounding Turkish commuters on the train, they confirmed our direction and assured us not to worry. Seeing our ship loom closer, we consider ourselves just about home free when I imagine I hear a ship’s horn. The doors of the streetcar barely had a chance to open as we lofted ourselves out at the pavement for a flat run toward the boat. I see it in the distance, one gangway still out, men in white still at their posts. I suppress the need to scream out “Wait!!” and continued my dead run. As we hit the gangway, we were met with a bit of concern from the staff regarding our lateness. Curiously, I asked how many more were behind us, finding out we were no 121 & 120 (meaning 119 people were still behind us). I felt relieved I wasn’t the last aboard. However, 121 out of 3000 passengers was not something brag about. I figure this is often my way when I’m enjoying exploring. Down to the wire, absorbing everything I can, I’ve never been one to play it safe.

So take me back to Constantinople... it can't be too soon. I've always wanted to explore this amazing gateway city. There wasn't near enough time, but I plan to be back.

Ephesus

Ephesus tipped me over the edge. As we approached the main walk into Ephesus, I cought a glimpse of the Library at Celcus, built in 102 a.d. Awaiting the end of the main street, it provided a vista worth the anticipation. I found it hard to concentrate on the parceled out structures of Main Street Ephesus because I kept catching the structure several hundred yards down. Ephesus actually has 7 versions of itself as it was always evolving and morphing through its ages. This particular main street had a wonderful little tiled area preserved over the last two millennia. Our guide told us it was an area where men and women of Ephesus would come to gather, have a drink, sit outside to enjoy the sun and conversation... basically the Union street of the first century. Our sidewalk cafes of today are not much different. However, I don’t expect ours to hold up 2000 years.

Proceeding finally to the Library, taking every shot possible, I found it hard to capture the draw of the structure on film. There is no way to express it in a photograph. Its age is what beautifies it; the texture and detail that leave nothing bare or simple, the symmetry and proportion that draw you closer, the staggered façade that breathes life into the rooms inside. I loved the unique yellow color contrasting the hillside, yet beautifully resting in its context like it belonged nowhere else. This will go toward the top of my list in structures that drew me in and inspired me to explore more.

I lost my traveling companions in the midst of my library awe and worked to catch up. They were fast on their feet to the Amphitheater. I can understand eagerly wanting to walk in Paul’s footsteps and stand at the dias of his Ephesian address. Breaking the library charms over me, I ventured further on to the enormous amphitheater. Climbing and descending, I explored every square inch for which I had time. Sweeping views told of how magnificent and exciting a theater like this would have been like at its height. I can imagine what it must have been like for Paul to walk the streets and preach to a culture like the Ephesians. As I ventured through the town and read about the daily life and customs of its inhabitants, it reminded me in many ways of the life of my own town of San Francisco. Sidewalk cafes to take in the sun, bookshops to pass time, and open plazas to mingle, all contributed to Ephesus as a forward thinking and progressive city.

Upon leaving Ephesus, we were able to go to a little house up in the hills that most people of Catholic faith regard as Mary’s last home. Many Protestants have adopted this claim as well. She was known to have gone to Ephesus with John and live out her last days there. We actually got to experience mass there at her home. I myself am considered a reformed protestant, yet I felt the gravity of this place so many Catholics revere as Holy Ground. A pilgrimage to many, I observed the reverence and love the people there held for the Holy Mother and her significance to their faith. Not being taught much about Mary in my own faith, it was quite a learning experience to me and one I’ll remember.

We had to return for our long sail to Istanbul, but not without a quick stop at the market at Kusadasi. Knowing I can whip through a market in record time, I hit the ground running in search of nothing but that which would fancy my eye. Down to the last minute, I heard my friend on the walkie say she was heading back to the ship, whilst I caught sight of a beautiful pair of antique earrings. Since I need more jewelry, of course I stopped dead in my tracks… and the mistake of trying them on is what sealed the deal. They are a lovely little pair of Byzantine costume earrings that are probably as “antique” as my last laptop, yet I love them all the same.

Ephesus and the surrounding sights of Mary’s home, the remains of the vast Temple of Artemis, the unbelievable library, will no doubt be one of my favorite ports on this trip. I have always been drawn to Turkey and have never actually been before now. I await the excitement of Istanbul and what wonderful sights I might find there.

Athens

The Acropolis…. Time travel. If it weren’t for the June crowds of Europe, I would have stepped into a history completely foreign to the youth of American citizenship. Additionally, we 21^st century technology addicts often don’t know what to do with this kind of antiquity. Too surreal and ethereal, we remain unfocused on the immensity of such a sight. I had to concentrate on reminding myself that I was traversing grounds and structures ventured upon hundreds of years before Christ ever walked the earth. For a split second, one finds themselves in Disneyland. The sight before me was just too unreal. My brain shifts to the shiny sets of Epcot and the replica backdrops of Main Street USA. I’m proud of my American lineage and our young history as a country, yet I’m humbled each time I visit something that causes me to ponder TIME. I think of the new thoughts and concepts pondered at this place, that of law and ethics, of religion and philosophy, of medicine and science. I can imagine the conversations that took place here. In these settings, I long for time travel, to see this place alive and thriving during its prime… To see this architecture in its highest function…that of inspiration.

As Athens resided below, I wandered the hilltop, catching aerial views of the Amphitheater of Delphi, 360 degree walks of the Parthenon , the picturesque photo opportunities from the Temple of Nike, and endless shots of the columns of the Erechtheum. I imagined the structures in their finery of the 4^th and 5^th centuries B.C., perfect and unblemished by weather and wear. If it weren’t for the 110 degree heat, I would have stayed all day. That, and having to reboard a ship at 6.00. We ventured down from the Acropolis and wandered into the “Plaka,” a section of the city, referred to as old Athens. Having worn ourselves out from the both the hill and the heat, we sought shelter in Greek cuisine. Of course, a city would never be complete in Jessica’s world without a quick visit to the local market. And a quick visit it was. I fell in love with the beautiful Greek Orthodox gold crosses. They were inlaid with gemstones and perfectly etched designs and enscriptions. Inspired by the many shapes and sizes, I spent more time in my sketchbook than checking out Athens itself on the train ride back to port.

It was one of the most fast paced days I’ve experienced of late, but worth every minute. I didn’t know if I would ever make it to Athens, although always at the top of a long list of destinations. I saw it in a blur as do most people when they experience it as a port destination, yet I feel very blessed to have finally made it. The architect in me is inspired and enriched in such settings, The facet of my artistic drive that is inspired by great architecture is touched and re-kindled, thus, re-affirming my love to experience a historical place like this once and a while. Luckily for me, “once and a while,” is fairly often.