Filed under: Architecture, Art, Brave New World, Connections, Italy, Religion, Travel, Writing stuff | Tags: alphabet, blogging, Cumae, Greek, Italy, jim downey, mythology, Roman, Sibyl, travel, writing
I had mentioned previously that there “just happened” to be a major Roman coloseum behind our villa.
Well, no, actually, I said that the villa was built as the base for an archeological expedition to excavate and explore said coloseum.
“Our” coloseum.
But why was the coloseum there?
Friday afternoon, following a routine morning workshop and delicious lunch, we went to find out.
* * * * * * *
It started with a walk. Not a long walk. But one which came with a certain degree of excitement. Because we had to walk along about a half mile of heavily-used road. Which had no sidewalk. Which was only barely big enough for two cars to pass one another. And which was entirely on a long blind curve.
Yeah, fun.
Actually, we did it just fine, though on the way back later that afternoon two cars smashed side-view mirrors getting past us, sending bits of each flying. That was exciting.
Much too exciting. More than a few of us got a good set of scratches from stepping off the road into the blackberry bushes along the side when it happened.
* * * * * * *
Anyway.
We were going to Cumae.
Well, actually, we were *in* Cumae all along, from the villa to the actual archeological site. *That’s* why the coloseum was behind our villa: it was part of the whole settlement.
But we were going to see the oldest part – which was Greek, and dated back to about 800 BC. They came from here:
Ischia.
Recognize that? It’s the same island you can see in the first image in this travelogue. It’s Ischia. Which is where the Greeks first established a trading colony. Which they used as a base for establishing Cumae a short time later.
Here’s Ischia again – from on top of the Cumae settlement:
And here are some other images from the upper part of the settlement, which was first a Greek temple (to Apollo?), then a Roman temple to Zeus, then an early Christian basilica:
The larger blocks at the bottom of the structure are typical of Greek building techniques.
During the Christian era, graves for the clergy were dug within the basilica. Here are some images showing those:
Tight fit.
See?
* * * * * * *
Below the temples at Cumae was something quite special: the Cumaean Sibyl. Special because of the role that this Sibyl played in the early legends of Rome. The Sibyl was later employed by the Christians as having been a prophet of the birth of Christ. (And you thought that retconning was a modern idea…)
Here’s where the Cumaean Sibyl was supposed to have resided:
Looking in …
… and looking out.
* * * * * * *
As noted, the entire Roman settlement at Cumae was quite substantial. As we descended from the hill where the temples were, then past the Sibyl’s Cave, we came to the lower settlement area which contained plenty of evidence of a full set of Roman baths as well as a Forum and other structures. Here’s an overview of that area from the hill:
And here are some images from down among the ruins:
Note the terracotta pipes, used to draw steam through the walls and heat a sauna.
And here’s another shot of the coloseum, after we got back to the villa, to tie it all together.
* * * * * * *
One last thing, which explains why I titled this travelogue the way I did.
Cumae is important for one other reason, which I didn’t know until I started doing some research for writing this, and which has a very direct connection to my writing this.
Specifically, Cumae is the home of the Cumaean Alphabet. Which was a form of Greek used by those early colonists. It was adopted by the Etruscans, then by the Romans, and is the source of what we know now as the Latin Alphabet. Which became the alphabet we use today.
Jim Downey
Filed under: Architecture, Art, Connections, Italy, Predictions, Preparedness, Religion, Ridley Scott, Travel, Writing stuff | Tags: Baiae, blogging, Caligula, Campbell, Communion of Dreams, Italy, jim downey, literature, Marcus Aurelius, mythology, Naples, predictions, Prometheus, promotion, Roman, Science Fiction, St. Cybi's Well, travel, Wales, writing
Thursday morning (July 19) I spent time catching up on notes about the trip so far. At least that was the excuse I used to hide a while, spending time alone. Oh, the group was great, and everyone continued to be very easy to get along with and welcoming. But I had been spending much more time with people than I was used to, and my “extrovert batteries” were worn out. Furthermore, the rough & tumble of Naples just left me mildly depressed and feeling entirely unenthusiastic for the day’s outing.
Which, of course, set the stage for something completely remarkable to happen …
* * * * * * *
Following the morning workshop, then lunch, we loaded into the bus and headed for Baiae.
First, up to the top of Baia Castle, to take in the sights and to see a collection of sculptural items at the Archaeological Museum of the Campi Flegrei (Phlegrean Fields).
Baia Castle is your fairly typical 15th century European castle. But it offers some great views of the Bay of Naples:
One small note: you may recall having heard that the Roman Emperor Caligula once commanded that a pontoon bridge be built spanning the Gulf of Baiae, supposedly so that he could ride a horse across it and fulfill some prophecy. Well, that evidently actually happened, and said bridge crossed that middle image – going from the shore below the castle across to the port area on the left side of that picture, a distance of more than 3 miles.
The upper portion of the museum is a collection of Greek-inspired sculptural and architectural elements. But it was downstairs that I experienced something of an epiphany.
* * * * * * *
An apology to those who are just reading these travelogues for a bit of info about this portion of Italy. Because I’m going to talk about my fiction writing for a moment. If you haven’t read my current novel and have no interest in it or the prequel I am currently working on, feel free to skip this section.
This will also contain possible “spoilers” for both novels, as well as a bit of a reveal of the smoke & mirrors behind writing a novel. You’ve been warned.
As those who have read Communion of Dreams know, there are a number of scenes which pertain to one character’s dream-visions. Which, it turns out, are drawn from the dream-visions of another character in the book.
Those scenes are choc-a-block full of imagery which references Campbell’s monomyth ideas. Having them play out, be transferred, from one character to another within a dream-vision was a little bit of meta-synecdoche on my part, and was obviously meant to reference both the title of the book as well as what happens in the course of the story.
OK, that’s easy enough. Now, the prequel I have been thinking about and working on (by fits and starts) for the last several years is titled St. Cybi’s Well, and the time of the novel is today (though on a slightly different timeline/reality than our own). And the main character for that book is one of the characters mentioned just above. He is, in fact, the character from whom the dream-visions are drawn. That has been my plan all along.
What has also been my plan, but which I hadn’t quite been able to sort out how to accomplish, was that in St. Cybi’s Well much of the story will revolve around *how* this character came to have those dream-visions in the first place. This is further complicated by the fact that I don’t necessarily want the character to realize the full import of what he experiences within the context of the story – the reader should be able to draw out conclusions which the character wouldn’t, especially if the reader had already read Communion of Dreams.
OK, got all that? So, here’s what I experienced at Baia Castle: the revelation that the classical sculptures of Greek and Roman mythology could themselves be the conduit for the dream-visions. I got this by walking through the collection – not just walking through it, but by seeing the juxtaposition of different sculptures within the somewhat under-lit and under-stated layout of the museum.
See, like in most of the museums we had visited, the climate control there was non-existent. And whether in order to keep down temps a bit, or just to save money on electricity, the only lighting throughout the space was from windows along one side of the building. And the layout of the building was a series of almost cave-like ‘bunkers’ – rooms which were kinda long & narrow with a relatively low ceiling, and done up in neutral grey tones.
It was perfect. And in a moment my mind made the leap to imagery for St. Cybi’s Well. Because, like many of the different ‘holy wells’ in Wales, it dates back to the middle of the 6th century – not that long after the fall of Rome. And, in fact, the spread of Christianity to the Celtic lands was part of the cultural transference which took place. It’d be easy to tweak the history just a bit to include ‘lost’ sculpture & myth.
I felt in that moment the same way I feel now: like laughing maniacally.
* * * * * * *
We now return you to your regularly-scheduled travelogue.
The sculptural collection at Baia Castle was pretty remarkable in several regards. Here are a few of the more striking images:
Stick your favorite deity in the slot…
Prometheus. Not Ridley Scott’s version. The original.
Marble cinerary urn.
Bone box.
Marcus Aurelius
* * * * * * *
Our next stop was the huge Roman bath/resort complex at Baiae.
Prior to the eruption of Mount Vesuvius, this had been one of the premier places for the rich and powerful to gather and relax. Because of the hydro-thermal springs, Roman engineers were able to construct an elaborate complex which offered naturally hot mineral waters. Avoiding the need to run furnaces meant that the whole thing was cleaner and could be scaled *way*up from what was typical. As a result, at the height of the complex it was some 6 stories high along the hillside, and spanned 3 or 4 modern city blocks. Here are some images to give a sense of the size and luxuriousness of the complex:
Along the entrance.
Further along.
Floor mosaic. The floors are covered with a layer of dirt/dust – splashing water on the surface gives a sense of how it would have looked originally.
Another portion of the floor mosaic.
Another floor mosaic.
A sense of the size of the complex.
Note the dome in the middle distance – just one of several in the complex, used as one of the sauna rooms.
* * * * * * *
Following our visit to the Roman baths, we ventured to see how more modern Italians enjoy the seaside: we went to the beach.
Now, beaches in Italy are different than most of the beaches I’ve been to here in the U.S. Not that I’ve spent much time at beaches in the U.S. in the last twenty years.
Anyway, modern Italian beaches are highly commoditized. You pay for entrance. You pay for a reserved parcel of beach, which comes with an umbrella. You pay for a chair or chaise lounge. It is less like going to a beach than it is like going to Disneyland.
You can see this from a pic I took from Baia Castle, looking down:
Beach complex.
And here’s what it looks like from ground level (at a different beach):
Welcome to Disneyland.
Doesn’t that look fun?
But what the hell. A few hours at the beach was something a lot of people enjoy, and the bulk of the group was happy with the arrangement. Most of them donned swimming suits and even got a bit wet.
Me? No thanks. I burst into flame when exposed to direct sun. And I’m not exactly in what you might call “beach condition”. I was perfectly happy to park at the bar with a couple other people and enjoy some cold beer.
Besides, I wanted to mull over the revelation I’d had earlier. Such moments are rare, and not to be wasted.
Jim Downey
Filed under: Architecture, Art, Italy, Society, Travel | Tags: art, blogging, erotica, Herculaneum, Italy, jim downey, mosaic, Mount Vesuvius, Naples, Pompeii, Roman, travel, Vergil, Virgil, volcano
OK, I’m going to get this right out in the open: I don’t like Naples.
Driving through the outskirts of the city previously, it seemed nice enough on first glance. But when you looked closer, that changed. At least it did for me.
I mentioned in the first of these travelogues that Italy had a somewhat casual attitude about many things, and that you just learned to roll with unexpected changes or closures or whatnot. No big deal. At least it wasn’t in most of the (admittedly small) part of the country I got to see.
But in Naples, that “roll with it” attitude is seriously tested. Because it seems like the whole city, and most of the population therein, is *trying* to make things difficult. Difficult for you. Difficult for one another. Difficult for themselves.
You expect any large city to have some not-so-nice areas. For some buildings to be a bit run-down. For the infrastructure to have the occasional problem. In Naples, all of this seems to have been taken almost to an art form. Lots of large apartment complexes look like they’ve been through a war – facades crumbling, paint long since peeled off, iron railings staining walls with rust. There are huge swathes of shanty-towns along the highways, as bad as the worst areas I’ve seen in developing countries. And where another country might have an odd exit ramp closed for maintenance, around Naples there were multiple such ramps and roads which were just fenced off and then used to pile garbage and the sort of debris generated by any large road system: tires, car body pieces, general crap which hadn’t been tied down properly, construction scrap, et cetera.
I was surprised to find out that the port of Naples has the world’s second-highest passenger flow in the world. The city is one of the major metropolitan areas in Europe. It’s almost 3,000 years old, and has a proud and colorful history. But today it is widely considered to be badly corrupt, and the advantages it has due to location and heritage are seemingly squandered.
* * * * * * *
After a morning workshop (I took some notes about the trip, enjoyed walking around the grounds of the villa a bit) and a nice bit of lunch, we loaded up to drive into Naples. Our first stop was the Naples National Archeology Museum. Now, you’ll note that if you go to their website, it is in Italian. Even though the link I used was supposedly for the English-language version. And I can’t find a way to change it to English. Clicking on the ‘English’ icon doesn’t seem to change anything. Which pretty much epitomizes my rant above.
This is a very substantial museum – both is size and in importance. It is said to be the most important archeological museum in Italy. It’s also a bit of a mess.
I’m not picking on the museum because I don’t like Naples. No, it’s the other way around: part of the reason I don’t like Naples is because of this museum.
What didn’t I like? Well, once again, the only climate-controlled area is in the main entrance hall and adjacent galleries. Which are full primarily of sculpture and ceramics. Some very nice sculpture and ceramics, works of art which need to be preserved and cared for, but nonetheless they’re much more stable than many of the other artifacts held in the collection. Artifacts such as extremely fragile wall paintings which were removed from Pompeii and Herculaneum. Artifacts which are in galleries which just have open windows, and so subject to high humidity and temperature variations.
* * * * * * * *
One last point, and then I’ll stop bitching about the state of the museum.
As noted, this is a very large facility, and a huge collection. Yet for whatever reason, they just randomly close off whole galleries. This isn’t done by the museum administration, it isn’t some clever plan to rotate exposure of the collection to help preserve it or anything. No, it’s just done by the guards. As in, one guard will get tired of standing, or bored of being by him/herself, and so close off a gallery and go sit and have a chat with another guard in a nearby gallery. It’s common to find two or three guards sitting on a couple of chairs or a bench, chatting away, half-heartedly keeping an eye on the throngs of people passing through the place, while a nearby gallery has been “closed” with a barrier rope and a couple of stands.
At one point either Steve or Amy had to go off and roust one of these guys to come open up a gallery which they had just closed, since it contained some of the most important wall paintings which Steve wanted to show us. It took some convincing, but worked. And when we were done, the guard closed off the section behind us as we left, and went back to having a good conversation with his two buddies in a nearby gallery.
* * * * * * *
Some of the items I took pics of inside the museum, where it was allowed:
Looking down on the Great Hall.
Roman dogs.
Decorative tombs.
Mosaics.
Mosaics.
Mosaics.
Mosaic.
Part of the Roman erotica collection. More info here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Erotic_art_in_Pompeii_and_Herculaneum
* * * * * * *
After we had gone through and seen a number of specific items that Steve wanted to present to the group, we had some time to just explore the museum. I did so, but still had some time to kill. So I decided to pop out into the surrounding neighborhood and hit a couple of the “tobacchi” shops in quest of some stamps for the stack of postcards I had.
The first one did have some stamps. But they weren’t sure what postage I needed to mail to the US. And the denominations of the stamps were such that even to mail within the EU, you had to overpay what was required.
And they only had enough for just a few postcards. Sorry. The prospect of referring me to another nearby “tobacchi” store which might have more seemed to be offensive – why the hell did they want to help either me or the other stores?
So I hoofed it down the street a ways. From a distance I could see two more of the little standard signs the places used.
The first one had a workman doing something to the ceiling of the place, and he had a ladder up in the doorway. I tried to ask whether I could come in, or whether they even had stamps, and was basically told to piss off, complete with a few fairly universal gestures to drive home the point.
I moved on. Down at the bottom of a hill I found the location of another shop. But it had been shuttered for some time, given the disreputable state of things. I asked a couple of nearby people who were waiting for a bus and was once again told to piss off. The guy sitting outside his cheap shoe shop next door wasn’t even that nice about it.
I gave up. Hiked back to the museum to wait for our bus. Probably just as well – one of the four postcards I mailed was to my home. It still hasn’t shown up. I’m glad I saved a buttload of money and just brought the cards home and mailed ‘em from here.
* * * * * * *
Our next stop was Vergil’s Tomb, which is in a nice little park-like location overlooking the city.
Naples.
More Naples. Note Vesuvius in the not-too-distant background.
Whether Vergil’s bones are still in the tomb is anyone’s guess. But the group enjoyed going there, and we all drank a tribute to him.
* * * * * * *
We got back to the villa in early evening, in time for a shower and a drink or two before dinner. Going into Naples was depressing enough that I needed that drink or two. Or perhaps it was just because it had now been a full week that I had been in Italy, and the inevitable travel-weariness was starting to catch up to me.
Jim Downey
Filed under: Architecture, Art, Italy, Religion, Society, Travel | Tags: art, blogging, colosseum, Italy, jim downey, Pompeii, Roman, travel, volcano
I am not an archeologist. I was not trained as an archeologist. I do not think like an archeologist (as was pointed out in this review of Communion of Dreams). As a result, it is difficult for me to look at fragmentary building foundations, or bit & pieces of walls, and envision a complete building. Extrapolating from that, it is even more difficult for me to envision a complete Forum, let alone an entire city. Particularly in Rome, all the subsequent over-building of the last 2,000 years made it all but impossible for me to really picture what a Classical-era city would look like.
Pompeii changed that.
* * * * * * *
First, a brief refresher of what happened to the city of Pompeii in August of 79 AD is probably in order. (Yes, there are plenty of books and documentaries which cover this ground. And for an excellent and fairly short synopsis, I highly recommend Ann Pizzorusso’s new 4-part series, which can be found here: Pompeii – The Last Days. Seriously, Ann explains some fairly complex science in terms anyone can understand – a real skill I respect greatly.)
See this?
Mount Vesuvius as seen from the Forum of Pompeii.
That’s Mount Vesuvius, as seen from the Forum at Pompeii. It is currently 4,203 feet (1,281 meters) tall.
Take a look at that picture again. There’s a peak off to the left side of the overall mountain. That is the current cone of the volcano, and the height today measures to that point.
But if you extend the slope from the right, and the slope from the left, up until they would meet, that would be some 3,000 feet higher. That’s where the volcano used to be, before the eruption of 79 AD. It is estimated that during the course of the eruption the volcano lost something on the order of 1.5 cubic miles of material.
*That* is what happened to Pompeii (and Herculaneum as well as a number of smaller towns in the area). That material was deposited over the surrounding area as a combination of ash, rock, and pyroclastic flows.
Pompeii was first subject to heavy ash and debris falling from the sky. Some of this material was incendiary. All of it was heavy (well, when you get a couple meters of such material, it adds up). Roofs caved in, buildings collapsed. Toxic gases settled into lower areas, suffocating people. This was the first phase of the destruction, and lasted some 12 to 18 hours, tapering off towards the end enough that many of the survivors in the city were able to seek their escape.
Then a series of pyroclastic surges hit the city. The first couple seem to have been unable to break through the city’s walls on the north side. Subsequent ones flowed over the walls, blasting through the city of 20,000 in a minute or two. Anyone who hadn’t escaped died very quickly and very violently, basically being vaporized. Buildings which still protruded above the massive ash & pumice blanket were blasted away. People who had died and were buried by the ash were now sealed in by the molten rock of the pyroclastic surge. Hence the existence of the ‘body casts’ created by pouring plaster into voids discovered during excavations. Like this one, in storage amongst a bunch of amphora:
* * * * * * *
I said that visiting Pompeii allowed me to envision what a Classical-era city looked like. In part that is because the way the city was buried meant that there is much more of it left. The buildings aren’t just foundations and fragments (though they’re hardly complete). More importantly, the city hasn’t been over-built by generations of people who were re-inventing it. You get to see exactly how the city looked as a working city.
And, curiously, adding in thousands of tourists (the city get some 2.5 million visitors annually) actually made it easier for me to think of it as a living, working city, not just ruins. You’ll see what I mean in the following selection of pictures. Rather than try to give a tour of the city, I’m just going to select a good sample of the images I took, add some brief captions, and go from there.
* * * * * * *
Avenue of private tombs, outside the city walls.
Gate into the city. Part of Vesuvius is visible in the background.
Exterior of the colosseum at Pompeii.
Another portion of the exterior.
Interior of the coloseum. This would hold some 20,000 people.
Entry space of a small townhouse/villa. Partial plaster and pigment on the walls.
Painting under the portico of a small townhouse/villa.
Another portion of the portico of that townhouse/villa.
Small decorative image painted directly on the wall of this townhouse/villa. Not unlike how we put up framed images in our homes and offices.
Another small image.
A typical major street.
Another city street, this one with wagon wheel ruts from heavy use.
Interior of a temple courtyard.
Large temple near the Forum.
Large temple near the Forum.
Large temple near the Forum.
Major buildings along/adjacent the Forum.
Major buildings along/adjacent the Forum.
Major buildings along/adjacent the Forum.
A bakery. The small free-standing stones in the background is a grain mill. The serving counter with embedded pots – which probably contained fast-food munchies of some variety.
Another bakery (these were all over – about one per block). Note the larger grain mill and oven in the background.
Looking down on the Villa of the Mysteries. The roof is modern, but the support columns are original.
Villa of the Mysteries columns from ground level.
Inside the Villa of the Mysteries.
Entryway to the root cellar at the Villa of the Mysteries.
Oven at the Villa of the Mysteries.
One of the mosaics at Pompeii.
Another of the mosaics still there.
* * * * * * *
We spent the whole day there, with a break for a picnic lunch sitting on the steps of a large temple, feeding the local pigeons and stray cats along with ourselves.
It was a good day. A sobering day. Walking in the ruins of an empty city – and I did come to think of Pompeii as a real city – was enlightening. Henceforth it was much easier to “see” the fragmentary Classical ruins as complete buildings.
But perhaps just as importantly, it was also easier to start to envision complete buildings as future ruins. More on that, later.
Jim Downey
Filed under: Architecture, Art, Italy, Religion, Society, Travel | Tags: art, blogging, Italy, jim downey, travel
Sunday, July 15.
A travel day. But that didn’t mean we missed a couple of opportunities to be hot & miserable.
We left Rome, heading south. Our first stop was at the The Archeological Museum Lavinium. Here’s an excerpt from their website:
The opening of the town council Museum and of the archaeological area of the “Thirteen Are and the Enea’s Heroon”, made under the aegis of the Soprintendenza for the Archaeological Assets of the Lazio, constitutes the start for an integrated program of initiatives that will concur ahead from now in the insertion of Lavinium in the national cultural panorama not more restricted to the scecialist of this branch.
Couldn’t have said it better myself.
Well, OK, perhaps I could. But let’s look at a couple of pics first.
The museum is at the old location of Lavinium, which according to legend was named/founded by Aeneas and dates back to the 10th century BC. Hence our interest in stopping there, since the workshop I was tagging along with was focused on “The Italy of Caesar and Vergil.”
This was also the location of the sanctuary of Minerva and the XIII Altars as well as the tomb of Aeneas (see the Aeneid for full details). It’s an interesting little museum which mostly seems geared for Italian school groups, and has a number of great terracotta and other statues.
And here are a couple of images for my friend Carla, which tie into Minerva’s aspect of being the goddess of weaving:
* * * * * * *
We walked from the museum back to a delightful little hamlet dating back to the middle ages. Here we relaxed in the shade of huge sycamore trees and enjoyed a picnic lunch.
I particularly enjoyed this flower circle, typical of much I saw in the areas south of Rome:
* * * * * * *
We continued south, winding along the coast. Our next stop was ancient Sperlonga, where the Emperor Tiberius had a substantial villa. Here’s a glimpse of the ruins as you descend from the museum there down to the sea:
But what’s really cool (literally) is that there’s a substantial cave/grotto which was a major part of the villa complex. You can see the entryway off to left:
And here’s standing in front of the grotto.
Note the platform with the grass growing up in the center of the image. This was part of the dining platform, which was originally partially or fully within the grotto entrance (the cliff face having collapsed back further into the hill over the millennia). The water around the platform, and the water outside the short wall in the foreground, were probably stocked with fish both for farming and amusement of the diners.
Here’s a shot from inside the grotto looking out:
And one which shows somewhat how the interior had been finished off:
* * * * * * *
Above the site of the villa there is now a museum, which holds a fair number of the statues and artifacts found at the villa/grotto. Here are a couple:
Image of what the actual sculpture probably looked like.
Tile pieces from mosiacs:
And ceramic items (including a very nice platter similar to the work of Jim Kasper at Prairie Dog Pottery):
One thing I want to point out: once again, this museum wasn’t worried about climate control. It was stifling, as you can see from the wetness of Steve’s shirt as he was lecturing about some of the sculpture:
I took it upon myself to open more windows to let a bit of air into the place. The guards didn’t seem to care in the slightest.
And curiously, in addition to the artifacts from Tiberius’ villa, there were also some modern paintings interspersed throughout the museum. Which provided an interesting counterpoint. Here are a couple of images:
* * * * * * *
The further south we went, the more we ran into beach traffic. The Italians love to go to their beautiful beaches, and there were snarls of cars and motorcycles everywhere. And I do mean snarls – the general attitude about driving rules seems to be that they only apply to ‘the other guy’. So you get several cars and a motorcycle or two all trying to fit into one lane, weaving in and out into oncoming traffic (which is also likely to be spilling over into your lane), using whatever shoulder or sidewalk exists, et cetera. It’s almost complete chaos, and I sure as hell wouldn’t want to drive in it.
But eventually we made it to the Villa Vergiliana, the overseas Study Center of the Vergilian Society in Italy. Here it is:
Looks like a wonderful 16th or 17th century villa, doesn’t it? Well, in actuality it’s just 100 years old, having been built in 1912 as a facility for a German archeology team which was investigating this Roman colosseum:
That’s taken from the balcony on the first story, with the Tyrrhenian Sea in the background . Here’s a little bit closer shot:
Our home for the next week.
Jim Downey
Filed under: Architecture, Art, Italy, Religion, Society, Travel | Tags: art, blogging, Italy, jim downey, Rome, travel
Saturday: no class. Rather, the whole day was spent visiting sites.
Which meant a nice early breakfast, then pack up for a day’s hiking around.
We headed over to the Roman Forum, entering just east of the Colosseum. Down into the grounds, then left and up a series of walkways to the top of Palatine Hill. Our goal for the first part of the morning was the house of Augustus and the rest of the grounds around it. Easy to see why the emperor wanted to live there – great views, nice breeze, close to the cultural/civic/market center of the city. Some images to share:
Central courtyard of Augustus’ place.
Nice view.
* * * * * * *
From there we descended down into the Forum. It is packed to the gills with history, monuments, and tourists. There’s the site of the House of the Vestal Virgins:
A nice little thing called the Arch of Titus:
Arch of Titus.
Temple and civic building bits galore:
The Arch of Septimius Severus:
Arch of Septimius Severus.
Even the altar of the Temple of Julius Caesar where his body was cremated:
Yeah, people leave flowers still . . .
But the most curious item for me was the Lacus Curtiu. There are several stories behind this simple little hole in the ground. The one I found most compelling is the most supernatural: that a mysterious hole had opened in the Forum – the heart of Rome – and no conventional efforts were able to fill or close it. Oracles were consulted, and it was told that the city could only be saved, and the hole in the Forum closed, if it sacrificed what it held most dear. While a debate raged over whether this was gold, or artworks, or religious objects, a young nobleman donned his arms and armor, mounted his horse, and lept into the gap. Immediately, the hole closed up, and Rome was saved.
Note the marble panel image.
There was once a hole here.
The young nobleman was Marcus Curtius. I think the meaning and implications of the story are clear, and revealing of the Roman character even so early in their history.
* * * * * * *
We exited the Roman Forum, crossed the street and had a delightful lunch outdoors in a shaded courtyard.
After lunch, we stopped at one of the many simple fountains to be found in the city to fill our water bottles. These are not fountains in the sense of having large beautiful sculptures and places where you can “make a wish”, but rather in the sense of being a drinking fountain. They are simple structures, sometimes free-standing, sometimes built into the side of a building. Out sticks a metal spigot, usually with no shut-off valve. And from that springs a stream of cold, pure water. Constantly. It just pours continuously, the water splashing into a drain below. Anyone and everyone is welcome to stop, drink directly, fill a bottle or a bucket.
In this way modern Rome continues the old Roman tradition of providing safe and palatable water to all.
* * * * * * *
Next we walked a bit down the street to see what we could of the Forum of Caesar. Interesting, and some of the images are pretty striking.
But mostly, to be honest, I just enjoyed people watching. The tourists from all parts of the planet. The small souvenir and snacks/drinks sellers. The Roman legionnaires in their flashy leather lorica (mine was better, though probably also hotter) who posed for pics for a few Euros. The colorful buskers who played instruments, or sang, or did tricks with trained parakeets. Grizzled old guys hawking hot roasted hazelnuts even when it is nearly 100 degrees out, standing over their braziers, scooping nuts into a twist of white paper.
Rome is vibrant, alive, layered with people and cultures just as it is layered with history. Just stay out of the streets if you value your life.
* * * * * * *
Across the street . . . wait, what street is this that I keep referring to? It’s the Via dei Fori Imperiali, a wide, beautifully straight and tree-lined road perfectly suitable for triumphal parades, built in the finest imperial style by Mussolini in the ‘30’s.
Yeah, it keeps traffic moving. It also obliterated a couple thousand years worth of the city’s history.
* * * * * * *
Anyway, across the street – actually, a lot of it is *under* the street – is Trajan’s Forum, the last of the grand imperial fora.
It’s impressive for a number of reasons. There are the typical “rubble-filled parking lots” (Steve’s phrasing, not mine):
Park your chariot, sir?
Surviving bits of great temples:
A multi-tiered shopping complex which was hacked out of a cliff face:
And, of course, Trajan’s column:
* * * * * * *
Dinner that night was in a little pizzeria not far from hotel, which had a decor straight out of the late 1960s, with music to match. Bit strange. Made moreso by the heavy application of liquid refreshments, which might just get my vote for the most valuable thing in the city.
And the pizza was good.
Jim Downey
Filed under: Architecture, Art, Book Conservation, Italy, Religion, Society, Travel | Tags: art, blogging, Campo de' Fiori, gelato, humor, Italy, jim downey, Palazzo Altemps, Pantheon, Rome, travel
Friday (July 13th) morning for me was much as Thursday had been: get up, shower, breakfast in the hotel basement.
As I sat there, I contemplated the history of the place. Somewhere in the complex of the Pompei Theatre Julius Caesar was murdered. I looked around.
Maybe over there by the table with the juices…
* * * * * * *
Again I went walking around the area of the hotel. Noted that there was a nearby museum with a show up featuring the “big machines” of Leonardo da Vinci. Picked up a couple dozen postcards at various little stands and shops. None of which had stamps for them.
See, in Italy, contrary to most logic, the only place you can get postal stamps is from the little places called “tobacchi” you can find on occasional street corners. They feature cigarettes, candy, drinks. And usually a lotto machine or two, frequently with some elderly Italian compulsively feeding the thing money.
I tried three of these places, asking about postcard stamps for mailing the things back to the U.S. None of them had stamps. None of them could tell me what it cost to mail a postcard to the U.S., though they mostly agreed on how much it cost to mail one to another country in Europe (about $2.00).
Well, what about going to a real Post Office someplace?
Silly person – that’s where pensioners go to collect their pension and conduct other such business, not buy stamps. More like a credit union. And, of course, I could never find one open.
I gave up, took my postcards back to the Campo. I grabbed a seat at one of the small restaurants, ordered coffee, and sat and wrote the cards while I watched the merchants get the day’s business going. Worse came to worse, I figured I’d bring the cards home and mail them from here.
* * * * * * *
I met the group late morning and we all trundled off to have lunch. Today’s site visits focused on the Campus Martius, or at least what was still left of it. Which turned out to be quite a lot.
We started over by the Roman Forum, which is actually when I took this image:
The Roman Forum.
Then we made our way NW, coming to the Pantheon from the back, pausing so the group could discuss one of their Latin sources.
Reading from the Book of Tuck/Leonard.
When we emerged onto the Piazzo della Rotonda the Pantheon was off to our left side. It wasn’t until I came around to the north face that I recognized the iconic structure.
There’s a lot to say about the Pantheon. There’s a lot more that has been said about the Pantheon. Why, while I was in Italy, an item about it ran in the Wall Street Journal: A Portal to the Heavens.
A 2,000 year old building. Which has been in continuous use for all that time. Which still, to this day, has the largest un-reinforced concrete dome ever made. The next time you hear of a modern concrete structure which is crumbling, think about that.
The outside, beyond being so recognizable from the front, isn’t that impressive, to be perfectly honest. In fact, the portico is a bit of a mess. As the Wikipedia article says:
The Pantheon’s porch was originally designed for monolithic granite columns with shafts 50 Roman feet tall (weighing about 100 tons) and capitals 10 Roman feet tall in the Corinthian style.[26] The taller porch would have hidden the second pediment visible on the intermediate block. Instead, the builders made many awkward adjustments in order to use shafts 40 Roman feet tall and capitals eight Roman feet tall.[27]
“Awkward adjustments.” Yeah. That’s putting it kindly.
But when you pass through that front porch and enter the rotunda, all that is instantly forgotten. Because even when you are expecting it – even when you’ve already seen it several times (I know, I did) – entry into the rotunda wipes other matters from your mind. It demands your full, undivided attention. It is an architectural space which is the equivalent of a flow state. It simultaneously overwhelms and enhances you, focuses your entire being on the experience of that space.
Beam me up.
The WSJ article puts it well:
The Pantheon is the greatest interior in Western architecture, one where space is nearly as palpable as the forms that contain it—what isn’t there is as important as what is. This effect derives in part from the perfection of its proportions. As William L. MacDonald writes in his 1976 book on the building (still the indispensable guide to the subject), the Pantheon is a sphere within a cube. Continue the curvature of the dome downward, and you get an orb whose bottommost surface kisses the floor. Then raise four vertical planes at the cardinal points of the rotunda, capping them with a horizontal one brushing the oculus, and, with the floor, they’ll give you a container cube for the sphere.
* * *
Because of the vertical alignment of these elements, the eye is naturally drawn upward, and as it moves, we notice that the forms become simpler, more elemental. We trace a passage that gradually removes us from the specific, worldly realm below to the most abstract, universal shape of all. The oculus is many things. It is the Pantheon’s basic design module. It is an act of consummate architectural audacity. Most of all, however, it is a portal to the heavens.
The round disc of sunlight it admits draws our thoughts out and away from our immediate surroundings to the motion of the planets, and invites us to think of ourselves not as members of a particular faith, city or country, but as part of the whole cosmos.
I am a modern person, one who has traveled extensively, and seen many incredible structures. That comes with being married to an architect who enjoys travel as much as I do. And still, I found the experience of walking into the Pantheon to be almost spiritual.
Consider the effect it must have had on those who had never seen a room much larger than your average apartment. On people who had little or no understanding of the way a built space could be manipulated to achieve specific effect.
Yeah, it’d be easy to think that the people who built such a thing were like unto Gods.
* * * * * * *
After that, we cut over to the Piazza Montecitorio to see the Solare – the Obelisk of Montecitorio. This was brought from Egypt by the Emperor Augustus.
The Solare.
It’s impressive. No, really.
But still, I was happy to continue on down the alleyway to what is touted to be the best gelato in Rome. So was the rest of the group. Poor Steve almost got run over when he suggested that we leave the Piazza Montecitorio and go a block down the street.
(A note on *real* Italian gelato: I’m glad I finally had a chance to try it. A bit lighter than other forms of ice cream I’ve had around the world, yet still with a smooth quality and rich mouth-feel. I did try it another time or two, but I didn’t feel the compulsion to eat it whenever I could.)
* * * * * * *
Our next stop was the Palazzo Altemps, a 15th century home which is now part of the National Museum of Rome. In addition to seeing a couple of excellent marble artifacts (particularly the Suicide of a Gaul).
Looks like a party.
it was interesting to see some of the support structures put into place to help maintain the building itself.
Architecture retrofit.
* * * * * * *
The last site location of the day was the Ara Pacis now housed in a new (and somewhat controversial) museum built for it.
Ara Pacis.
Damned impressive.
Side panel of the Ara Pacis.
Even more impressive was the fact that the building actually had some climate control. Seriously, this was a huge surprise to me – to discover that any number of museum buildings in Italy have little or no climate control, at least in the summer. It is common to find windows completely open to the outside, no screens, no attempt to control humidity or temperature variations.
With some artifacts, this isn’t *that* big a deal. A nice marble sculpture is pretty damned stable, so long as it isn’t being subject to a freeze-thaw cycle and acid rain. But it was common to see other much more fragile items – books, documents, paintings, textiles – in conditions which made my professional side cringe.
Even more maddening, the rules about when you could or could not use camera flashes were almost totally random. And when they were invoked, it was just as likely to be when a flash wouldn’t be that much of a concern – again, when taking pictures of stone statues – while no one seemed to give a rat’s ass about extremely friable paintings.
Insane.
* * * * * * *
We hiked back towards the hotel. Somehow, we got waylayed by beers at Mad Jack’s again. But this time we were joined with several other members of the tour group. Gave me a chance to get to know some of the others I hadn’t spent much time with yet. As I vaguely recall, some “Jim Downey” stories were told.
But I might be mistaken about that.
* * * * * * *
Then showers, and a bit of fun before dinner: going to see a street performance by The Miracle Players . This summer they’re performing Cleopatra with their own personal twist on the story.
Definitely fun, and geared so that kids will love the hell out of it. Warning – unlike the locals, they actually start on time. Don’t be late, or you won’t find a seat on the church steps to sit and watch the performance.
Jim Downey
And thanks to my friend ML for sending me the WSJ story about the Pantheon. Good timing.
Filed under: Architecture, Art, Italy, Travel | Tags: art, blogging, Campo de' Fiori, Capitoline Hill, Hercules, Italy, jim downey, Marcellus, Piazza Navona, Portunus, Rome, travel
We walked back to the hotel. Amy left us to see to some other arrangements. We made tentative plans to meet for dinner later.
Yeah, a lot later. In Rome, you don’t eat dinner until 9 or 10 PM. Seriously. Restaurants don’t even open until about 8:30, and most of them won’t make reservations before 9. In this it reminded me a lot of Buenos Aires. In other ways, too. More on that in a future travelog.
Anyway, we went back to the hotel, dropped off bags. Steve needed to pop out to make dinner reservations for the group at one of the places we had checked out that afternoon. I decided to walk through a short private path from our hotel over to the Campo de’ Fiori – a nice little square about a block away which has a daily market of mostly food items. Here it is:
Market day in the Campo.
Market day in the Campo.
I sat at one of the outdoor tables of one of the half dozen little restaurants around the square, ordered a beer. I just wanted to sit and rest my feet a while, watch the last of the merchants clear up their stuff from the day’s market, try and take everything in. I had only been in the country about 8 hours, but I felt surprisingly comfortable there. “Surprisingly” because with just a couple weeks notice before going I had no time to learn more than a few survival phrases of Italian and very little background information beyond what I already knew.
But even so, I felt much more at home than I expected. Italy is different than any place I’ve been previously, but it is still a fundamentally European culture, one which resonates with other places. Even the language is fairly easy to understand, at least in the written form. Oh, I couldn’t read the newspaper, let alone a book, in Italian, but scanning signs and menus wasn’t difficult. And at least in Rome almost everyone had some English language. It was easy to get along.
Happily, Steve was able to make the reservations quickly, and joined me on the Campo before I finished my first beer. We ordered another round and enjoyed the late afternoon as it turned into early evening.
* * * * * * *
After showers and relaxing in the room, we met Amy to head out to dinner. This would be the pattern for most of the rest of the trip: shower in the morning when you got up. If you were really stomping around in the morning, grab another quick shower before the afternoon adventures. Then back to relax a bit before dinner, getting another shower before heading out.
Why so much? Well, Rome was sweltering. It was mid-July. Temps in the low-mid 90s, humidity somewhere around 80%, and not much in the way of air exchange in the city. All those buildings with narrow streets, dark grey cobblestones, throngs of people and vehicles built and held the heat of the day. It wasn’t until well into the evening before things even started cooling off. I think this is part of the reason why the Italians eat so late – before then, it’s just too damned hot. And remember, AC is fairly uncommon.
Anyway. We hiked over to the river (the Tiber), I think to the SW of our hotel, though I hadn’t gotten my bearings in Rome yet. Crossed over, and in a few more blocks to a little place Steve knew.
Interesting place. We were able to get a corner table inside. It had an almost ‘country kitsch’ decor – light blue & white wallpaper, red checked tablecloths – and they specialized in a particular pasta dish which we all ordered: a kind of ‘mac & cheese’ made using spaghetti noodles and incredible fresh Parmesan cheese. It’s made such that there’s a bowl of crispy Parmesan which is free standing, and the cheese and noodles are contained within it. Paired with a nice wine – heaven.
* * * * * * *
The next morning Steve and Amy were off to meet the class for the first time, using a nearby classroom facility which was part of the University of Washington campus in Rome. I got up, had breakfast, got started with my day.
Breakfast. Not a big deal in Italy, from what I saw both in Rome and then later. The hotel had the same items out every day: various cold cereals, yogurt, a couple types of breakfast pastry, a small selection of cold cheeses and meats. There was also a couple types of juice, usually tomatoes, hard-boiled eggs. Coffee made to order. Perfectly fine, but not nearly as big a deal as all the other meals.
I decided to strike out and explore the nearby area around the hotel. It was daylight, I had a small map from the hotel, and figured that setting out almost randomly would be fun. Just a couple blocks north I found this:
Looking south in the Piazza Navona.
The Piazza Navona one of the larger public spaces in the old part of the city, built (Steve later told me) on the site of a Roman stadium. In the cool morning it was mostly empty, just a few artists starting to set up their informal booths and a couple groups of Japanese tourists.
Piazza Navona.
After the tight spaces of the streets of Rome, I enjoyed just walking around the piazza, looking at the various buildings which lined it, enjoying the massive central fountain and the two smaller ones on each end.
One curious little thing I hadn’t noticed in the Campo the day before: it was common for the artists/merchants to anchor their displays using long thick nails driven into the ground in the space between the cobblestones. A quick and effective anchor, which didn’t damage the surface at all.
* * * * * * *
From the Piazza Navona I continued north until I hit the river, then I walked along its banks for a while, just taking in the vistas of the city around me. Rome needs a bit of distance to appreciate fully, distance which you usually can’t get on the smaller streets of the city center.
After a couple of hours I made my way back to the hotel. Again the heat of the day had soaked into me, and me into my clothes. A shower and a fresh change of clothes was in order before I met the others for the afternoon activities.
* * * * * * *
We met outside the hotel. I had met a couple of the others in passing the afternoon before and that morning at breakfast (the students didn’t need to be over to the classroom quite as early as Steve and Amy did, since they had to set up tables and whatnot in advance of the first meeting). Everyone was surprisingly welcome and accepting of me – a politeness which I wondered whether would hold up in the course of two weeks travel.
It did.
The first thing we did was head over to the district of the former Ghetto for lunch and a bit of history on the place.
The Roman Ghetto.
Roman Ghetto.
All the subsequent meals we took as a group were semi-communal: at restaurants we’d order individually, but share freely back and forth so that people could enjoy a wider variety of dishes. When we ate at the villa down south, the meals were served ‘family style’. As a result, I couldn’t begin to remember all the different things I had a chance to try on the trip, and I didn’t make extensive notes. I did get a copy of the villa’s in-house cookbook, and I’ll share some recipes from it later.
After a quite enjoyable lunch we traipsed off to see Rome’s oldest forum: the Forum Boarium. We stopped along the way to enjoy views of Rome’s first bridges across the Tiber, as well as a bit of history of the Island. Here are images of the Temples of Hercules
Temple of Hercules.
and Portunus.
Temple of Portunus.
* * * * * * *
From there we went north, skirting along the base of the base of the Capitoline hill, pausing to look at excavations currently underway in the Forum Holitorium
then past the Theater of Marcellus:
Theater of Marcellus.
and then up to the Capitoline Hill. Climbing the long, sloping terrace/steps up to the top of the hill, we had a damned impressive view of the city to the west and north.
We spent the remainder of the afternoon exploring the Capitoline Museums .
Plaza on Capitoline Hill.
The Capitoline Wolf.
* * * * * * *
We made our collective way back to the hotel, where everyone showered and relaxed a bit before going out to dinner.
At dinner, as at lunch, I made a point of sitting with a new group of people. It was important to me to get to know the other members of the tour, to try and connect with them. Fortunately, this was pretty easy. In spite of my not knowing anything about Latin or teaching, they were all well skilled in working with new people. And the shared adventure we were on was a common denominator for all.
It was well past 10:00 before we left the restaurant. I, for one, was damned glad I didn’t need to attend a workshop starting at 8:30 AM.
Jim Downey
Filed under: Alzheimer's, Amazon, Art, Babylon 5, Ballistics, Book Conservation, Connections, Feedback, General Musings, Italy, J. Michael Straczynski, JMS, Marketing, Predictions, Promotion, Publishing, Religion, Science Fiction, Survival, Travel, Writing stuff | Tags: Alzheimer's, Amazon, antiquity, art, Babylon 5, ballistics, blogging, care-giving, direct publishing, firearms, free, guns, Hades, Italy, jim downey, John Bourke, Kickstarter, Kindle, Lake Avernus, literature, love, memoir, predictions, promotion, Rome, Science Fiction, travel, writing, Z'ha'dum
I mentioned the other day that my trip to Italy had kicked loose some writing blocks I had been struggling with, and that it had given me ideas for additional stories and novels. It did. It also made me think hard about some decisions I needed to make. Not just about writing. Also about how I spend my life.
Simply put, I have several things I still want to accomplish before I die. Things which I won’t accomplish if I keep putting them off, putting time and energy into things which really don’t matter. Like arguments. Like writing fluff which other people could write, just in order to earn a little money. My time — my life — is more valuable than that.
I think that it was the experience of seeing so many incredible accomplishments from Classical Antiquity still around some 2,000 years later which made an impact on me.
Now, I have no illusions that anything I do will last that long. Nor am I going to give up ‘living in the moment’ and trying to enjoy my life and those I share it with. But I am going to reshuffle my priorities in some very concrete ways.
One of these will be much less time dinking-around in social media. Oh, I will still participate to some extent, still maintain connections with my friends and fans. But I am going to be less self-indulgent in that regard.
Another change in priority will mean writing fewer reviews and articles. That means a loss of income which has made a difference in recent years, and I have to find a way to replace that. After all, I still have to live. The result of this will be a Kickstarter campaign which will be formulated and announced in coming weeks — plenty of people have said that they are looking forward to seeing what my next novel is, and this is one way for them to help make that a reality sooner rather than later, a chance for them to put their money where their mouth is.
(And speaking of Kickstarter campaigns, some friends of mine just launched one to expand their artistic repertoire which I highly recommend — you can find it here: Ancient Metalsmithing Made Modern, or Perfecting Pressblech )
I recently turned 54. And I have accomplished a number of things of which I am justly proud. I have friends and family I love. I have a wonderful wife. I have written books and articles which have brought joy, knowledge, and solace to others. I have helped to preserve history in the form of books & documents. I have created art, sold art, made my little corner of the world a slightly better place. I’ve even helped expand the pool of ballistics knowledge a bit. Frankly, I’ve lived longer and accomplished more than I ever really expected to.
But I have more yet to do. Time to get on with it.
Jim Downey
*Yes, a Babylon 5 reference. In this case specifically to the episode “Conflicts of Interest” in which Sheridan makes the following statement:
I’ve been doing a great deal of thinking, Zack. There are several hundred unpleasant things I’ve been avoiding doing since I got back from Z’ha’dum. Now with Delenn gone I don’t have any excuses. I have to start taking care of them.”
Appropriately enough, one of the places I got to visit while in Italy was Lake Avernus — which the Romans considered the entrance to Hades. Yeah, I’ve been to Hell and back. It’s given me a new perspective.
Filed under: Apollo program, Art, Astronomy, Constellation program, Failure, Feedback, General Musings, Government, ISS, Man Conquers Space, NASA, NPR, Predictions, Preparedness, Science, Science Fiction, Scott Simon, Space, Survival, tech, Writing stuff | Tags: jim downey, NASA, NPR, predictions, science, Science Fiction, Scott Simon, space, technology, travel
While I’m on a bit of vacation, I have decided to re-post some items from the first year of this blog (2007). This item first ran on November 24, 2007.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I have a special place in my heart for Scott Simon, the host of NPR’s Weekend Edition Saturday program. Oh, I’ve long enjoyed his reporting and work at NPR, but in particular it was the experience of being interviewed by him in 2001 for my “Paint the Moon” art project which endeared him to me. As it was just at the beginning of the media coverage of that project, and most people as yet didn’t understand what I was trying to do with the project, it would have been easy to mock the idea and portray me as something of a fool – but Simon was kind and considerate in his interview with me (which took almost an hour to do from my local NPR station facilities), and the end result was an interesting and insightful segment for his show.
Anyway, I go out of my way to try and catch the broadcast of Weekend Edition Saturday each week, and today was no different. One of the segments this morning was an interview with Pat Duggins, who has covered over 80 shuttle launches for NPR and now has a new book out titled Final Countdown: NASA and the End of the Space Shuttle Program. In the course of the interview, Simon asked the following question (paraphrased; I may correct when the transcript of the show is posted later): “Are Americans unrealistic in the expectation of safety from our space program?”
Duggins paused a moment, and then gave an unequivocal “Yes.”
I had already answered the question in my own mind, and was pleased to hear him say the same thing. Because as I have mentioned before, I think that a realistic assessment of the risks involved with the space program is necessary. Further, everyone involved in the space program, from the politicians who fund it to the NASA administers to aerospace engineers to astronauts to the journalists who cover the program, should all – all – be very clear that there are real risks involved but that those risks are worth taking. Certainly, foolish risks should be avoided. But trying to establish and promote space exploration as being “safe” is foolish and counter-productive.
I am often cynical and somewhat disparaging of the intelligence of my fellow humans. But I actually believe that if you give people honest answers, honest information, and explain both the risks and benefits of something as important as the space program, they will be able to digest and think intelligently about it. We have gotten into trouble because we don’t demand that our populace be informed and responsible – we’ve fallen very much into the habit of feeding people a bunch of bullshit, of letting them off the hook for being responsible citizens, and treating them as children rather than participating adults. By and large, people will react the way you treat them – and if you just treat people as irresponsible children, they will act the same way.
So it was good to hear Duggins say that one simple word: “Yes.”
What we have accomplished in space, from the earliest days right through to the present, has always been risky. But for crying out loud, just going to the grocery store is risky. None of us will get out of this life alive, and you can be sure that for even the most pampered and protected there will be pain and suffering at times. To think otherwise is to live in a fantasy, and to collapse at the first experience of hardship.
I think that we are better than that. Just look at all humankind has accomplished, in spite of the risks. To say that Americans are unwilling to accept a realistic view of death and injury associated with the exploration of space is to sell us short, and to artificially limit the progress we make. I think it *has* artificially limited the progress we have made.
One of the most common complaints I get about the world I envision in Communion of Dreams is that the exploration of space is too far along to be “realistic”. Nonsense. Look at what was accomplished in the fifty years that lead up to the first Moon landing. In a world filled with trauma, war, and grief, some risks are more easily accepted. In the world of Communion, post-pandemic and having suffered regional nuclear wars, there would be little fixation on making sure that spaceflight was “safe”, and more on pushing to rapidly develop it.
We can go to the planets, and then on to the stars. It is just a matter of having the will to do so, and of accepting the risks of trying.
Jim Downey
Communion Of Dreams 