Computers

These last evenings, since we came back from Italy, I have kept away from the computer in the evenings. A consequence of one of those arguments that end up being bargaining sessions. Good, in their way, as they help you know what the other wants, and an opportunity to say those things the other may ignore.

The agreement does apply specifically to the tabletop computer, which is the only one usually connected to the web. But with the “new” laptop suffering a broken screen (and using the tabletop monitor would be clearly cheating), that leaves me only with the old Apple i-book as an evening useable computer. And in a way that fulfills the spirit of the agreement. The fact that I am not watching The Godfather (I have seen it enough times) but playing Lemmings or inventing character creation tables is not very different from ignoring Fargo while reading (what a great soundtrack for reading and humming).

And we talk much more, which was the main reason for it, to share the same space. The computer even lets you more free for speaking, as it is less immersive than a good book. Because the matter is more one of opportunity and closeness, rather than a matter of compulsory conversation.

The worst part of playing or web-surfing was that we would be in different rooms, as the table-top computer does not fit in the living room comfortably (it did when we bought it, but that apartment had a bigger living room, and we had less furniture at the time). So she would be falling asleep in the couch watching cable TV while I was in some virtual world practicing politically correct genocide ("Kill them all, they are EVIL"). Not good. And a problem that has appeared in our new appartment.

Since then, I keep the good reading rythm I had acquired in October, and the rants, once the travelogues were finished, have suffered. But that is a good sign, as there is less things to rant about.  ¶ 6:31 PM 0 comments

  Photography, one year later

In July last year, I wondered about my changing attitude towards photography. Since then, I have got a camera, got a flickr account, and post photos in some web forums.

And yet, there are still differences with other people. I have taken 440 photos in 300 days, including deleted ones and taking ten photos to keep one. My wife took all those photos in Venice alone, and she does not take her camera in a pocket as I do. I took 40 photos in that trip, most of them unusable images at night.

Then, the flickr account I only visit it to upload new images, or to grab an address to post somewhere else. Which means that I usually miss comments or other people's interest, and I confess I seldom watch their own images. Commenting, then, goes beyond me, unless I was somehow involved in the image or the scene presented.

I still enjoy watching beautiful, or skilled photographs. But I just cannot bring me to do so on my own. Almost all photos I take have an external motivation, such as showing something to a group of people, or documenting some image I would like to talk about. Besides the quality, that is the biggest difference between my wife's and my photographs. She enjoys doing it, while it is a chore, for me. A strange feeling that if I witness a moment of beauty, and I have the means to record it, I should.

It is, for many aspects, an extension of this blog, even if there is not much overlap. A way to sift through my life, looking for things to show, and use that as one of the yeardsticks to measure myself.

I have kept the camera in my jacket pocket for a week, and only taking four photos, and not good ones, of the dawn and dusk skies. Nothing else seemed worth recording.  ¶ 11:10 AM 0 comments

  The Italian Trip: A Bergamask Adventure

In Bergamo, unlike the two other cities, rather than a nice small hotel in
the city centre, we had a big luxury hotel in the outskirts (too cheap to
resist, and they had massage shower and sauna!). That it was a mistake we
started to notice when we saw there were no taxis waiting at the station.
While we were decoding the bus lines and wondering if we were up to the task
of carrying our bags a couple kilometers, we were lucky and could get a cab
that was bringing some people to the station. Well, according to its
numbering, there were at least 23 taxis in Bergamo, but the question was how
many would be available at the same time.

The hotel was true to form, a huge convention hotel, slashing costs to
attract some people to avoid it being empty. There was a certain coldness
among the staff, whether it was by the cheapness of the price we had, or the
rudeness of making them work a Saturday evening.

The room felt impersonal and artificial, after the tasteful XVIIIth and
XVIth century buildings we had been, and the sauna was just a glorified
shower pit with a seating ledge.

Asking about how to get to downtown, we were recommended to take a bus, but
the receptionist forgot to mention you had to get your ticket before riding.
We supposed most people rode without tickets, but unless under extreme
duress we are unable to do so. Pride prevented us from going back to the
hotel so they could phone us a taxi. So we just walked all the way to
downtown (after all we had walked this week, that was a light exercise),
although the landscape was the less attractive in the whole trip. Midway we
found a tobacconist who sold bus tickets, but we decided to keep walking the
whole way, but just in case we got tickets for the ride back, and for
Sunday's visit to the Old Town, as all sale points would be closed except
for a few automatic machines (such as one we remembered at the railway
station).

Bergamo has a Renaissance fortified Old Town, a neoclassical New Town, and a
generic post-war Italian boom town around it all. The Alps are to the North,
and in good weather you can see Monte Rosa. At night, not even the Old Town,
over 100 meters above the rest of town could be seen.

For a Saturday evening the downtown area was exceedingly quiet, and most
places were closed by 8. So we had to go to the only nice restaurant that
was open, a decision that was shared by those few people out and about, who
were all gathered there.

The food was good, with many local and seasonal specialties, including
plenty of porcini mushrooms in many combinations. But the service was so
agonizingly slow, with a full house, a huge cellar that extended a whole
block, crowded.

A pity, as well, because this time we had a timetable to catch the
penultimate bus back (at 22:15), rather than the relaxed walks of the last
days. So we got angry, the maitre got angry that we skipped dessert and
coffee (and tip), and we were not in the best of moods about Bergamo when we
got back to the aseptic room. We missed terribly those wooden beams four
meters over our heads, with a score nice places within five minutes of
walking distance...

However the gorgeous breakfast and the sunny day made wonders for our mood,
and the bus ticket includes the ride in the funicular up (or down) to the
Old City, so quite soon we were once again lost in history (and a Sunday
morning crowd). Old Bergamo is labyrinthic, and full of old buildings, but
unlike Venice it is all up or downslope, and everything is made of dressed
stone, unlike the Venetian brick and stucco.

A nice atmosphere, like a festive occasion, with all shops open, with plenty
of attractive things, helped improve our experience, as did a curious little
exposition called War is Over, about anti war art since 1945.

It can be walked twice over in two hours, however, including the Venetian
ramparts, just the right size for our Sunday morning. Then a quick bus ride
back to the hotel to pick up a luggage and a taxi to the airport. A sign of
the plentiful taxis in town is that we had the same taxi as the previous
day, and apparently there were 4 taxis working at that time.

No sign of my moleskine according to the coach company, and we start to get
in the mood of home.

Fortunately we had a couple of days to become normal again.  ¶ 2:27 PM 0 comments

  The Italian Trip: Farewell to Venice

Venice itself, discounting the surrounding islands, has five main quarters.
Santa Croce (West), where we were staying, and the one I liked most as a
quiet tourist. Cannaregio (North), that we visited the previous evening.
Less historical, as it was one of the poorest parts of the old city,
discounting the palazzos on the Grand Canal. The three parts of the ghetto
(old, new and newest) mark the expulsion of Jews from other parts of
Christendom. Dorsoduro (South), mostly artists and students (many who fill
both slots). I would have liked it more when I was younger. More bars than
restaurants. St. Marco and Rialto(Center),two quarters that behave as one
where the old power was, and where most tourists congregate. Finally
Castello (East), that we had not yet visited (actually we did, while we were
lost the first day, but we did not appreciate it), around the Arsenal.

We had our train at 14 hours, plenty of time to do some walking yet, so
obviously we headed for the main part we had not yet visited. Also the
Biennale gardens are there, and although we did not have time to enter, we
wanted to check them out.

The biggest difference was the crowds in the street. It was a Saturday and
there were at least twice as many people as during the week. Also, as we
followed the coast, we could see the Saturday spectacle of Luxury Cruise
ships towed close to St. Mark on the way to unload their passage for a brief
Venetian experience. It seems most cruises do that on Saturday. They passed
continuously for three hours.

There was a street market in Via Garibaldi, clearly for the locals, as
tourists were quite rare in that quarter. And there were very attractive
sights, such as the Naval museum (which I could not visit, except for a
brief look at the neighboring full ship's hall), San Pietro, another Corto
visit, to see St. Peter's chair, and which has a hanging campanile and was
Venice's cathedral for a few centuries. It made an impression to be the only
ones visiting after the crowds in St. Mark's Square.

In the entrance to the Arsenal we had another Maltese moment, looking for a
Greek lion (Ist AD) with a runic Viking (Varangian, actually) message. After
these two findings my wife was taking my new guide much more seriously, as
she had been a bit underwhelmed the previous evening.

Rather than squeeze the time available, we decided to return without hurry
to Campo San Giacomo, where we had had our first meal in Venice, while
watching a couple of students tortured by their friends, and have there our
last meal there. We had less than a ten minutes walk to the station, and the
hotel (where our luggage was waiting for us) was along the way.

A bright sunny day, just when we have to go. But at least several thousand
people would enjoy it.

At the railway station we were clearly against the flow, as the trains
arrived full and left almost empty. Rail travel always relaxes me, because
you can always more around, eat, talk, stretch...

After an exchange in Brescia, we were in three hours at Bergamo, last stage
of the trip. Although the day went on, the mood in Bergamo was totally
different, so I leave that for the last post.  ¶ 3:14 PM 0 comments

  The Italian Trip: Looking for the Hidden Court in Venice

Last full day in Venice, so we decide to alternate completing pending activities. We hesitate before ordering scrambled eggs for breakfast because the kitchen is two full floors below the dining room. Much better to go the healthy way and eat fresh fruit.

First of all, the rest of St. Mark’s visitable buildings. The Correr and the History museum, as well as the decorated halls of the Marcian Library. Nice buildings, varying interest in the collections. I loved the maps hall, however.

Then some shopping and eating (we are systematically skipping lunch but eating small portions most of the afternoon, or having a coffee, or an ice cream while wandering around). The weather stays mild enough for ice creams and terrace sitting. After being inside most of the morning, it is time for some rambling in the southern part of Venice, from St. Mark’s to L’Accademia (and the only bridge on that part of the city over the Grand Canal).

I have not mentioned it before because it played a small role in our visit, but La Biennale was taking place while we were there. Although we did not have time to submerge in the plethora of activities, expositions and people around (although they made life a bit more difficult to get a place in nice restaurants), the main advantage for us was that many temporary pavilions are actually buildings around the city, often ones that cannot be visited, or only with some difficulty. In this case, we profited from one of this expositions to visit Palazzo Fortuny, closed for renovation but that we could visit almost fully once we went out of sight of the bored security guard. A good show of how a foreign artist tried to live as a Venetian aristocrat.

Probably my favorite part of Venice, full of people trying to make a living out of art, rather than tourists like more to the north, or just trying to ignore Venice, as it seems that happens in Dorsoduro, to the west. And Campo S. Stefano is great to relax a little.

A short walk from L’Accademia to Sta. Maria della Salute, a tall dome and a great sight, and we decide to stop visiting places and just walk around to get a feeling of the different quarters. The afternoon then it is Dorsoduro, that looks like the only part of Venice where normal people live, with normal shops (although there are a few scattered around the city) and normal bars. Even water is a bit less ever present. In a normal bookshop I get Favola di Venezia, Hugo Pratt’s ode to his city.

After some rest the evening it is Cannaregio, where I have some places, drawn from my weird guide, ti visit, such as the only bridge in Venice itself without railings, as they all were till a century ago. It certainly changes the way of crossing. Some hunting for secret signs, for Solomonic seals in the three parts of the Jewish Ghetto. And a meter long rope of licorice to keep us going till dinner.

It is impossible to explain how it feels to walk around Venice in the sun, with an ice cream in one hand and someone you love in the other. Or walking hand in hand in the dark around the ghetto, staring at a kosher shop with Muslim customers. You just can do it, and feel out of time.

Dinner was on another trattoria, All Alba, something more unusual (veal liver after gnocchi with seafood), just to avoid the pasta and pizza trap (more or less). We explored a bit the side streets along one of our main ways (from our hotel to the railway station), discovering many interesting corners, but hampered by the lack of lighting. And then to rest after spending the whole day walking. How we missed the restful boat rides!  ¶ 8:04 PM 0 comments

  The Italian Trip: Waterday in Venice

[Sorry for the editing/publishing mistake. I always try to publish only finished parts]

My wife likes glass, and specially decorated glass. So we had to visit Murano island, and once we started paying vaporetto fees, the best choice was to take a 24 hour ticket.

So after breakfast, that involved climbing a steep stair up, and even worse, climbing it down (remember those 4 meter ceilings, and that this is a protected building so no lift and no changes in stair slope?) and a short walk we were on the direct vaporetto to Murano, seeing the Cannaregio and the northern part of the city, that we had not already visited.

The day was overcast and foggy, but as that was as well the forecast for the following day, we just accepted our fate to see an Autumn's Venice, rather than the false summer we had seen till then. And spending hours so close to water changes the way you see it, even more so when it is a turbid, menacing liquid rather than crystalline and welcoming.

I come from a period before plastic became commonplace in laboratories, so part of my Chemistry practice included glassmaking, glass repairing and glassblowing. Indeed, we had to manufacture a good part of the equipment for the reaction installations. So I have a certain idea about the technical and practical difficulties of glass, and have seen plenty of manipulations with it, almost always transparent rather than coloured, but the basics are there.

My wife, on the other side, had never seen glass shaped live, and that was the main reason for going to Murano. We also were deliciously surprised by St. Maria and St. Donato, a Byzantine-Venetian basilica, that was cathedral a few centuries, and besides its early Romanic grace (advantage of brick over stone, weight) it has floor mosaics of great beauty. The Glass museum was a fiasco, because they do not do anything live, been only pieces and photographs. I was more interested in the different techniques used to get colour and appeareance, but in total you could see roughly the same in most open glass factories. The building was a nice palazzo with garden, however.

It is not easy to find a glassmaking show, even in Murano, so after window shopping and visiting factories, lunch at a workmen trattoria that showed how inflated prices are in Venice, and finally choosing a Christmas ball for her collection, she finally got her wish. We were visiting the last factory before taking the vaporetto back, on the less favored part of Murano, looking towards the graveyard island of San Michele. Apparently we were a tourist group big enough to merit a show, so we got three minutes, a blown flask and a shaped rearing horse. I felt they downplayed the difficulty, so that how can then they ask 10€ for a horse that we have seen shaped from a molten blob in 40 seconds? It ignored the reagent mix, the five days in the furnace, the stirring, checking, adjustments, and the degree of skill necessary to do that in less than one minute, because that is the time you have before the glass cools enough and either you accept the piece or scrap it. Nevertheless, nobody bought anything, and I actually blame the show for that.

At least she was impressed, and that was the objective.

A ship ride back and we were in Venice, where we used our free rides to make the tour of the Grand Canal, admiring facades and palaces. Most buildings would be extremely attractive if well kept, but even the disrepair makes a sharp and sad contrast, becoming more impressive than a perfect series of buildings would have been. It ties them back to earth, and shows the effort and love that keep a few of them looking as they should. And it makes it possible to wonder at each building, rather than being overwhelmed by their uniformity.

We ended up in St. Mark's, to make the visits we could not do the first day. The insides of the buildings. St. Mark's Basilica must have absorbed more riches that whole European regions, considering its ornaments and decoration. But there I started to reach a "gold saturation level" and "image saturation level", so the visit to the Doges' palace was a healthy change, introducing History, the politics of the Serenissima, government, council chambers and prisons, including the forbidding (from inside) bridge of sighs. And weapons, a particular favorite, and of my favorite period, XV-XVIIth centuries. And the building itself, a Renaissance palace from several periods, is so clearly Modern and secular that it is refreshing compared to the typical Renaissance monuments, churches, castles or markets.

In the Palace's shop I acquired a book that would affect the rest of my stay in Venice, Corto Sconto, a book in Italian showing Corto Maltese Venice (Hugo Pratt lived here, after all) and many trajects outside the beaten path.

But that was for later. Twilight was almost gone when we left St. Mark's square, of course by boat, to see now the outer part of Venice, through Giudecca channel, seeing both Giudecca island and the southern border of Venice. Including a glimpse of the modern port that keeps the island functional and the great developments taking place in Giudecca, where not every building is historical.

Then we spent a few puzzled minutes looking for the supposed fourth bridge over the Grand Canal, that according to the map would be erected in 2005, by Calatrava, a man who loves bridges. No matter how much we looked, there are still only three bridges, Scalzi, Rialto and Accademia. Somehow I have resisted since the return looking up what has happened with the project, keeping some small mysteries alive.

Less tired than other days, we decided to go to a pizzeria we had checked a couple of times that looked good. And effectively it looked good and was good, Roman style rather than Venetian, so thin bases and plenty of local ingredients. And big. Pizzeria All'Anfora, if you happen to be around.

Then a night boat ride, to see the changes that night makes to the city, softening colours, hiding scars and disrepair. And to profit of the emptyness that falls when the sun goes down, and Italian is once again the only language you hear.

That night I dreamed a lot about boats, only to wake up and hear the night vaporetto passing by the Grand Canal, ten meters away, through our open window.  ¶ 10:11 AM 0 comments

  The Italian Trip: The middle (first day in Venice)

After getting up without hurry and an excellent breakfast (and some stocking up of goodies for the trip, such as croissants and parmesan portions) we went to the station, where we found out why the train was so cheap.

The wagon was from the early 80’s (and looked it, although so clean and scrubbed the bare iron showed up in many places). It still was divided in departments, and most people did not bother to pay extra for a reservation (we had one, because we had an extra cheap non-changeable non-refundable ticket). Add half as much people as seats, and you had crowds in the corridors outside our department. They did not bother marking what seats were reserved, so we had to displace some people from our seats, and later see all the other neighbors displaced as well when the ticket holders appeared.

The trip was nice, with all the green countryside, the landscape around De Garda lake, and the approach to Venice through the causeway being specially attractive.

A quick stop by the tourist office (suspiciously empty) to confirm where our hotel was and to get a map (addresses in Venice give only the quarter and a high number, so it is far from obvious where hotels and restaurants are). The ten minutes walking from the station were true, even with luggage and stopping to gawk at canals, gondolas and sights. The place was just in front of the Fontego dei Turchi, a nice palace on the Grand Canal, marked in all maps, housing the museum of Natural Science, closed for renovations, in a renovated small monastery. It was run by four young siblings, who are trying to make a place in the busy accommodation business, adding a couple of extra rooms every year. So far they cope quite well, and good installations and an excellent location (quiet, yet close to most interesting things) make me recommend it fully, as it was recommended to me by a friend. It’s name, Ca’ San Giorgio. A big room, tastefully decorated (although the glass mosaics in the bathroom were a bit over the top, green and gold walls and red, green and copper floor), with the 4 meter tall ceilings of its origin making it look bigger. Putting the head out of the window we could see the Grand Canal.

Once settled in our room, Il Gatto (with a mask of the same on the door, to identify it, and a smaller version in the key ring), we went out looking for food and some open space. We got it close by, the field to San Giacomo’s church (all open spaces in Venice are either close to a church, or in the Arsenal area). There we enjoyed some panini, hot, and some tramezzini, cold. We also started our study of the map, quickly appreciating that the critical point in Venice are the bridges, and those are the parts of the way to remember.

However both our rest and topological meditations were broken by some Italian students spreading a large plastic sheet in the middle of the open space. Then a quite attractive boy started to undress (to the interest of many onlookers) and then cross-dress as a woman. Meanwhile a group of women with some assorted guys started bringing out bags of supplies (spray paint, confetti, eggs, cameras, shaving foam...). Suddenly another group staked out similarly another square of the Campo, and a blond girl arrived on a toga lugging a wooden cross. There was a clear air of festivity, and the girl had a mostly male entourage and the boy a female one, so we wondered if this was some kind of pre-wedding hazing. But the groups did not interact, except to exchange bottles of prosecco, two of which were now fixed to the hands of the two main participants.

Then, finally, after some songs chorusing "Dottore! Dottore!" it has become clear, confirmed by the declaration that they are being forced to read by their companions, between swallows of prosecco and different rains of eggs, flour and confetti. They have just graduated, and this is the student's graduation, less official but as important as the school's. Later we found, glued on many places, posters with the declarations that the new graduates had been forced to read, detailing real and imaginary achievements and failings, mostly moral failings, and usually illustrated lavishly and humorously.

As we were making our first contact with the city, we decided to make the touristic round, Rialto-St. Mark's, although the buildings were already closed when we got there. Impressive, but little more than the decaying palaces or the canal web. Finding a main way that has less than one meter width makes you appreciate how urban planning has changed. Close to Rialto and all the way to St. Mark's, there is a saturation of shops and tourist traps, clearly aiming for the day-trippers. Fashion, glass and masks everywhere, with antiques and illustrations close behind.

When you get to La piazza San Marco humanity seems to condense, become a solid mass centered in that place, like drawn by a gigantic magnet and spilling over the neighbouring streets.

We planned the following day (ship day), watched the sights, the people and the beutiful hotels, saw some of the compulsory sights and then decided to get back to the hotel to rest a while before dinner. I tried to avoid the crowds, getting to Rialto (a bridge we had to cross) by a back way. As we had plenty of time, we planned a game, trying to do that without checking the map. When we got lost (as it was bound to happen), I had such an overconfidence attack that I decided the compass (Vi's) was failing, and that the right direction was the opposite.

As any sensible person knows, five minutes later, when we finally checked the map, it was clear that it was the compass who was right, and I who was wrong. Following the compass we did not have much trouble finding the Rialto, and from there we already knew the way to the hotel. We spotted a couple of attractive, out of the way places for dinner, specially one devoted to fish. When we asked for recommendations at the hotel, close by, that was the one they proposed first, so we had them reserve a table. Although I am more of a meat-eater, I was in fault after the compass gaffe, and fishes are the Venitian kitchen mainstay. Vecio Fritolin, very nice (but expensive, or we would have dined there every night), with a short menu and a great branzino (sea-bass), as well as sea food hand-made pasta.

Venice quickly grows quiet and silent after nightfall and most of the tourists go. Lighting is also a bit haphazard, and combining the omnipresent water, shadows, narrow twisting streets, and a weird feeling of safety, it is a pleasure to wander in the almost dark.  ¶ 2:08 PM 0 comments