Tripping around Italy through Mark Twain's eyes
By Raf Casert |
February 8, 2013, Friday
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Print Edition
Print Edition
I came to Italy to test a French adage by way of American writer Mark Twain.
"Plus ca change, plus c'est la meme chose." The more things change, the more they remain the same.
The saying had been on my mind while traveling before, usually with a book from the past clutched in my hands. On a 1991 honeymoon in the Greek Cyclades with my pockets full of love and a 1964 Nagel's travel guides, the descriptions still fit some of the small fishing ports and dusty museums.
But when I returned to Portugal's Algarve coastline a dozen years after I'd kept a holiday diary there, I found parts transformed beyond recognition.
Now came another test: travel through northern Italy with a copy of Twain's 1869 "The Innocents Abroad," his irreverent record of a trip to Paris, the Mediterranean and Jerusalem. Twain's humorous account of the great sights of Europe and the Holy Land was a best-seller in its day, but its mocking tone was a shocking departure from the era's solemn travelogues.
Milan, Florence and Venice, a mere fragment for Twain, was within reach for a two-week vacation. I wondered how our modern cynicism would hold up against his.
My family of four first headed to Milan, and much like Twain, we were drawn like a magnet to Milan's cathedral. "That forest of graceful needles, shimmering in the amber sunlight," the American writer wrote of the stiletto roof peaks, all topped with statues made of sheer grace. When Twain was there, the duomo (Italian cathedral) was still surrounded by "pygmy housetops," leaving it visible from within 11 kilometers around to stand in awe of its white marble majesty.
In 21st century Milan, the piazza in front of the Gothic building still offers a glimpse of the overall vista Twain and his American travelers must have had. But beyond, the boutiques for Giorgio Armani and umpteen fashion empires, business centers and a massive football stadium now crowd in one of the world's biggest cathedrals. Where Twain saw the vastness of the countryside in the distance, the cathedral's rooftop now offers views of the new Porta Nuova business district - all sleek glass, cutting edges into the skyline much like the cathedral once did.
We thought of Twain in Florence, too, where he observed "how the fatigues and annoyances of travel fill one with bitter prejudices sometimes." Visiting last summer during peak tourist season, the throngs were endless, as were spray-painted human statues on each corner and street vendors selling every ilk of cheap thrills.
Fortunately, even in Florence's high season, you can drift into the Bargello museum and see sublime art in soothing circumstances.
Go in and around Cappella Brancacci and the Boboli gardens across the river and have a Renaissance calm wash over you.
When we got to Venice, "afloat on the placid sea," as Twain put it, we discovered that current guidebooks, despite magnificent graphics and pictures, often could not match Twain's prose.
During our visit to the Ducal Palace and its Bridge of Sighs by St Mark's Square, it was as if Twain led us through, much better than any modern audio tour ever could.
"Plus ca change, plus c'est la meme chose." The more things change, the more they remain the same.
The saying had been on my mind while traveling before, usually with a book from the past clutched in my hands. On a 1991 honeymoon in the Greek Cyclades with my pockets full of love and a 1964 Nagel's travel guides, the descriptions still fit some of the small fishing ports and dusty museums.
But when I returned to Portugal's Algarve coastline a dozen years after I'd kept a holiday diary there, I found parts transformed beyond recognition.
Now came another test: travel through northern Italy with a copy of Twain's 1869 "The Innocents Abroad," his irreverent record of a trip to Paris, the Mediterranean and Jerusalem. Twain's humorous account of the great sights of Europe and the Holy Land was a best-seller in its day, but its mocking tone was a shocking departure from the era's solemn travelogues.
Milan, Florence and Venice, a mere fragment for Twain, was within reach for a two-week vacation. I wondered how our modern cynicism would hold up against his.
My family of four first headed to Milan, and much like Twain, we were drawn like a magnet to Milan's cathedral. "That forest of graceful needles, shimmering in the amber sunlight," the American writer wrote of the stiletto roof peaks, all topped with statues made of sheer grace. When Twain was there, the duomo (Italian cathedral) was still surrounded by "pygmy housetops," leaving it visible from within 11 kilometers around to stand in awe of its white marble majesty.
In 21st century Milan, the piazza in front of the Gothic building still offers a glimpse of the overall vista Twain and his American travelers must have had. But beyond, the boutiques for Giorgio Armani and umpteen fashion empires, business centers and a massive football stadium now crowd in one of the world's biggest cathedrals. Where Twain saw the vastness of the countryside in the distance, the cathedral's rooftop now offers views of the new Porta Nuova business district - all sleek glass, cutting edges into the skyline much like the cathedral once did.
We thought of Twain in Florence, too, where he observed "how the fatigues and annoyances of travel fill one with bitter prejudices sometimes." Visiting last summer during peak tourist season, the throngs were endless, as were spray-painted human statues on each corner and street vendors selling every ilk of cheap thrills.
Fortunately, even in Florence's high season, you can drift into the Bargello museum and see sublime art in soothing circumstances.
Go in and around Cappella Brancacci and the Boboli gardens across the river and have a Renaissance calm wash over you.
When we got to Venice, "afloat on the placid sea," as Twain put it, we discovered that current guidebooks, despite magnificent graphics and pictures, often could not match Twain's prose.
During our visit to the Ducal Palace and its Bridge of Sighs by St Mark's Square, it was as if Twain led us through, much better than any modern audio tour ever could.
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