“A Million Little Pieces”

For the November meeting of my book club we read and discussed James F.’s “A Million Little Pieces”.  From the novel’s first page, I felt a nagging disbelief that Oprah W. ever actually read the book. A fan of her book club, I was very disappointed that James F. was on a list shared by the likes of William F., Maya A. and Toni M., classic American writers.  There is nothing redemptive about the memoir, nor does the author/anti-hero walk away from the events in his life (near-death drug abuse, AA meetings, rehab, prison) a better or wiser man.

“To Be Straight With You”

“To Be Straight With You”, a string of monologues lifted from actual interviews of victims and purveyors of hate alike in the Carribean, Africa and Britain, choreographed to world music, is a performance which raises social consciousness. In a city like London where it is easy to work hard during the week and indulge in entertainment on the weekends (restaurants, theatre and art), sitting in the National Theatre Friday night I was acutely aware that whereas I was moved by the show’s social message that hate still exists in the world and that even institutions associated with organised religion need to be held responsible, there are people who have devoted their lives to activism to the extent that they’ve put their lives at risk in order to solve the world’s biggest social problems. DV8 is known for its cutting-edge dance choreography, and I was not disappointed. Perhaps because I’m “biased”, my favorite performer was a small, young man of the subcontinent whose dance skits were consistently clever and beautiful. In the first he pretends he is a fifteen-year old “poof” antagonized by his family in a skit where the dancer jumps rope for the entirety of his monologue, thereby highlighting how youths have to endure hate in parts of the world. In the second skit, the performer dances bharatnatyam, a form of Indian classical dance, with his same-sex partner.  Dance performers are hit-or-miss, so watching DV8 use dance as a medium to deliver a message about violence was a risk and one that paid off, judging from the full house and standing ovation.

Vatican City

Across the River Tiber, we entered Vatican Cit. St. Peter’s Basilica, the largest church in the world. The interior is a deep blue with gold ornament, a combination which, ironically, reminded me of Istanbul’s Blue Mosque. We took the elevator to the basilica roof from which we could admire the church below. In keeping with the stair-climbing theme throughout our European travels, we climbed the 330 stairs to the dome. The climb was well worth it. In an notably noisy city, we had a few moments of peacefulness on top on the basilica roof. From the basilica, we could see Rome’s sprawl as well as the Vatican’s gardens, the River Tiber, and the Pantheon.

The Vatican’s Geography room and its many museums display the Vatican’s cultural and monetary wealth. Paintings, tapestries, and sculptures ranging from the ancient to the postmodern (we even saw Freudian-inspired images by Salvadore D.) precede the Sistine Chapel. On the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel we admired Michelangelo’s “G-d creates Adam”, a truly “iconic” image.

Colosseum

From the Colosseum we visited the seven hills upon which Rome grew into an empire.

Hadrian’s Pantheon

Only two weeks ago, we visited the British Museum where I was introduced to the architectural accomplishments Hadrian commissioned while he ruled the Roman empire. Here we stand in front of the Pantheon.

“When in Rome…”

Like Elizabeth G. in “Eat, Pray, Love”, nothing about our holiday in Rome was even remotely “yogic”. Rome makes a great “food holiday”, right up there with our trips to Andalusia and Florence. Meat-filled gnocchi doused with red sauce, pumpkin-stuffed raviolis sprinkled with parmesan cheese, fried artichokes so crispy they had the texture of potato chips, lamb stew flavoured with onions, and red bell peppers sauteed in olive oil were some of our favorite dishes. All notions of eating unrefined food moderately went out the window. Short naps after meals were the only way to digest the food before looking forward to the next meal. Copious amounts of gelati were consumed, often twice a day (pistachio for M, chocolate for me, and sometimes hazelnut when we were feeling particularly “dangerous”).

Apart from the cuisine, what I love about Rome is how a bustling, energized and modern city has built itself around historic ruins. Although Florence remains my favorite Italian city, visiting the city feels like walking around a huge, outdoor museum whereas Rome gives off the feeling that much is still happening (despite it’s comical president, Silvio B.!). In addition to viewing the typical Roman sites such as the Trevi Fountain, Spanish Steps, Colosseum and Pantheon, we hung out at the Piazza Navona to watch the filming of an Indian jewelry brand (Gold Impressions) commercial starring a beautiful Italian model. Business in Rome, like fashion in Milan, is clearly the foundation of the city’s prosperity. Either every Roman man is a successful businessman, playboy, or member of the Mafia. They wear bespoke suits and shirts that reminded me of Daisy weeping when viewing Jay’s rich wardrobe. It was the Italians who articulated fashion is a form of self-expression.

“Roman Holiday”

From the moment we entered the cab on our way to Gatwick, I was met with joy for the President-elect’s victory. The English cab driver told us BO won by a landslide in the electoral college, the Customs agent and his colleagues wore beaming smiles when they saw our passports and asked us to confirm the election’s winner, and the American father sitting behind us on the flight to Rome took a break from reading the most recent “New Yorker” magazine to express hope and happiness towards the election results. Not surprsingly,
Rome was plastered with BO posters with none of JM to be found. As the “Economist” magazine’s Global Electoral College online election confirmed, the vast majority of the world (particularly Europe), has staunchly supported BO to such an extent that most political debate here in London was centered on BO versus HC rather than BO versus the Republican candidate. It was almost perfect to find ourselves in Rome where we “roamed” the capital of what was once a vast empire while celebrating our own country’s decision to depart from 19th-century, semi-imperialist dogma to one that promotes mutual respect and discussion.  Had the election not resulted in our favour, who knows if our trip to see Rome’s historical remains might have served as a premonition of our own country’s future?