Doors, Sass, and Dilapidation

By the end of the conference, by sore throat had gotten the better of me–I felt like crap. Woohoo! Time to start a vacation! Or rather, time to get up at 5am to leave for Palermo airport on very little (interrupted) sleep.

On the way to Palermo, where I would travel from the airport into town to meet Meredith, I listened to a woman who works on imprinted genes expressed in placenta in low birth weight studies in Africa. She works with a specific population which traditionally uses menstrual huts...essentially huts where women go when they're on their period. I heard about taboos on menstruation, war in Mali, changing society driven by an increasing availability of pure alcohol and migration to the cities, what caused women to participate in the program (the women of the tribe had high interest in the program and made remarkable efforts to sustain their participation in it), and their research group's pressing need for a post-doc. It was very interesting, and also a lot to process at 5:30am.

A thunderstorm was visible over the water as we were driving in–it was very dramatic. You could see the clouds frequently light up with every flash of lighting.

I caught a bus to Palermo central station and eventually met up with Meredith, who was joining me from California on the enormous generosity of my mom. While I was waiting, I ran into our lab's post-doc on her way to another Sicilian vacation.

I had a chance to check out the hostel Mer had been staying in for the past few days. It was very nice. There was a lot of art and art supplies around. Corded telephones were fixed to the wall as art.
We ate some pizza and chatted on the lounge area on the roof–I had very little energy. The lounge on the roof was a sky island in the middle of rooftops. Italy and Sicily in particular seem to be characterized by busy and bare streets (with ornate balconies, shuttered windows, three story buildings, and dilapidated grandeur). The inner courtyards, however, seem to be where residents have space to expand. They are often much prettier, have potted plants growing, and seem more secluded than one would expect in a city. On this roof, we could hear a large crowd cheering something on–likely football (soccer), and we saw balconies offset at many levels, with plants or washing hanging out over them. The building next to us looked gutted–due to restoration work or deterioration, I couldn't tell. There are a lot of collapsing buildings around. They have the look of once being grand and expensive, but now have rusted and rotted and been gutted and stripped to their bones. Some remnants of ornament and facade remain, but no one has bothered to take these remnants down, or to replace them with new, modern buildings.

Mer and I are both reminded of Assassins Apprentice here–everything is grand and climbable; ornate and varied landscapes for dramatic chases. There's an element of romantic deterioration about the city.

Just as we were about to head out to our next airbnb spot, a freak thunderstorm blasted through the streets, dumping an incredible amount of water down and seeming to blow people out of the street with forceful wind, rain, and hail. We stayed inside and ate cannoli with a German girl with whom Mer had become friends.

We eventually escaped and made our way to the next airbnb place. Like the hostel, this place had huge, grand doors with a much smaller door cut into them, to allow pedestrians through. You had to duck and step over a ledge to enter. These doors are adorable. Inside them, the building seems huge and dark, like an abandoned train station.

According to our very nice hosts, the building was once the home of nobility, then a nunnery, and now apartments. Our room had a painted ceiling and floor tiles from the 19th century.

Meredith on the balcony

Our room with an original ceiling

When we were ready to explore, we made our way through a fruit market and some really sketchy back streets on our way to the Palazzo Reale, which houses the royal chapel of the Norman kings of Sicily– The Palatine Chapel. The chapel is dedicated to St Peter and is well known for its Byzantine architecture  and mosaics. Also for being completely covered in gold leaf. COVERED.

...And the other

One face of Palermo

Interior of the Palazzo Reale containing the Cappella Palatina (the Palantine chapel)

If this carriage is rolling down the street, you just *know* somebody important is in it. 

Mer and I are unable to resist smart-aleck commentary.

"Why is 'God' wearing clothing in this painting of the creation of the universe when Adam and Eve only dress after becoming ashamed of their sin & nakedness? Is this depiction implying 'God' has some personal baggage going into the creation of our universe? I mean, it would explain his self-aggrandizing demands for worship."

"Why are many of these scenes composed of people doing normal things and Paul being weird?"

Cases in point:

1. Paul getting poked with sticks
2. Paul with the laser-targeted dove of the holy spirit
3. Paul in a basket, getting hauled up a castle

Meanwhile, Peter appears to have his shit together. 

The rafters of the church were completely covered in very small illustrations–they were hard to see far away in the dim light, but we would have loved to take a closer look. Gold leaf was used everywhere– they were very liberal with the shiny stuff. A few patches of artwork were covered with a strange semi-opaque substance... we assumed this was related to restoration efforts. 

Upstairs, above the chapel, the royal suites had further ornamentation worthy of sarcasm. 

"Hercules always seems to solve his problems the same way– smash, smash, smashy-smash."

"Why are there winged cherubs in a Greek Pantheon scene? This is clearly mixing mythology"

Gold leaf EVERYWHERE. Peter on the left, Paul on the right. 

Beautiful patterns inlaid on the floor

Mosaics 

Mosaics and geometric patterns everywhere–local craftsmen had their say.

On the far left back wall, we see Paul taking a bath in a cup. In the middle on the back wall, we see Paul getting hauled up into a castle in a tiny basket. Peter (in blue on the back far left and back right) seems completely normal. 

And if we look further to the left we see Paul tripping (?) while being targeted by the laser-aimed pigeon of the holy spirit. 

Peter and Paul are just *really* close friends. Suspiciously close. 

 Not having had enough yet, Mer and I sought out more historic and pretty buildings. On our way to then next large cathedral, we stopped to pick up an arranchino ("orange"–it's definitely not an orange in any way but the color) and cherry gelato.

On the subject of Arranchinos: MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM.

They're these fried rice balls surrounding a delicious meat filling and they're SO GOOD. You really can't eat too much at once–they're very dense– but man! So nice. After trying several over the course of our trip, Mer and I agreed any attempt to bring these over to the US would just result in US frying habits screwing it up. They'd end up greasy and gross instead of savory and scrumptious. 

Gelato is good. 

Stray dogs EVERYWHERE. 

This particular cathedral had a spiral staircase that led to the roof, and from here we could see an elevated view of Palermo from the long walkway stretching between the dome and the bell towers. It was amazing! As I'll mention several times in my recounting of the trip, dogs are everywhere in Sicily and this cathedral rooftop was no exception–someone brought their dog up. 

From the roof of the church

Those bell towers look dramatic.

Once we'd had enough of the wind on the top of the cathedral, we descended to investigate the chapel treasures, which mostly consist of funny hats, big capes, and low security "diamonds" and "sapphires." Clearly it's important to wear extremely expensive rocks to show respect for one's god. Yep. For suresies.

A creepy-as-fuck way to keep someone's arm bones.

Even further down, in the crypt, we investigated rows of dead people encased in fancy boxes. Many of the crypts had decorations that had worn down in the creepiest way possible.

Note to self–not all stone lasts the ravages of time, and sometimes the facade of
profound art dissolves away to reveal our hockey mask bones and unveil our true nature as slasher film stars.

The basement also showed evidence the layout of the church had changed a few times. We saw stairs to nowhere, several feet above ground level and hidden behind columns.

Chillin' like a villain

 After seeing how relaxed this guy was, we decided to head back to home base for a nap before plundering Palermo's famous street food for dinner.

A Deal with Athens

Up the neighboring hill, the temple faces in the direction of the sea–or in the direction of the gods on Mount Olympus... The Sicilians at Segesta agreed to build this greek temple in collaboration with Athens in exchange for Athens taking on another powerful Sicilian town on the opposing coast which was currently threatening Segesta's interests. Between them, Erice and Segesta could control a good third of Sicily, but they needed help from powerful Athens.

To please Athens, the Sicilians started building this temple, starting with the most visually appealing bits–the columns. When Athens challenged Segesta's opposition, they actually lost, so Segesta simply stopped constructing the temple.
This left the temple in an interesting state, which makes it easy for us to identify clues about how temples were constructed. All of the columns were upright, with a connecting frame on the top, but the columns themselves were unfinished, with individual segments of the stack still visible and the long furrows undone. Each segment of a column has a square hole in t he center which allows it to be stacked on a sturdy piece of wood to hold everything together and to provide flexibility during earthquakes. A shallower cut around the base of the column provided a measurement of how deep the fluting should go. A new experimental method placed each column on top of a pad of soft lead–this may contribute to the temple's remarkable stability through earthquakes over the years.

In finished temples, a roof is added to the whole structure and an inner room is constructed at the back for the statue of the god to whom the temple is dedicated and for a vault containing the temple's treasures. This temple at Segesta, unfinished, remained accessible from all sides and open to the elements. Under Roman rule, there would have been funds to finish the temple (when the romans were tolerant of other religions), but the locals preferred the flat and open space of the unfinished temple for their own ceremonies and rituals.

Optical Illusions
The columns themselves are somewhat bulged in the middle to make them appear straight from a distance–which is how the gods view them. The better the temple looked from a distance, the better it looked to the gods...

The base of the temple at the steps is curved to make it appear a perfect rectangle from a distance.

Other notes
This temple is slightly longer than it traditionally should be. It has 14 columns on the long end instead of the 13 it should have with a short end of 6. Most temples have dimensions of X by (2X+1) columns.

The steps are unfinished–some blocks are missing because construction stopped early. There are also 'tabs' on the stones which were used to help maneuver them. These tabs should have been sheared off in the finished product.

Blocks of stone were raised and lowered by manpower, with ~20 people all walking in a giant hamster wheel, winding ropes attached to the stones up and down.

The surrounding vegetation was chock-a-block FULL of snails. I was surprised at their numbers in this dry environment and even more surprised at their numbers IN GENERAL. I've never seen so many. It was an invasion!

The white stuff on that branch, the stuff that looks like beads? All snails.

Matt & Me

Dear Aphrodite, Please Don't Let Me Die At Sea.

We got most of Wednesday to take a break from the talks at the workshop by going on an excursion to the temple of Segesta.

This is what we learned from the tour guide on the way there:

Erice was an important religious center because of its temple, dedicated to Aphrodite/Venus. The founder of the town was (by legend) supposed to have escaped the Trojan War & fled with his followers to Erice, where he set up a temple dedicated to his 'mother', the goddess of fertility.

At this temple, girls were trained from ~6 years old as 'priestesses' who would practice ritual prostitution from ~12 years to ~24 years. Sailors on shore would make trades in town & then send a representative to buy a very expensive gift to present to the temple. They would then sleep with one of the priestesses as a ritual of worship within the temple, under the open sky, where the gods could see. They believed when they 'reached a state of ecstasy', they could offer a prayer to Venus that she might protect them while at sea. Bringing pleasure to the priestess brought pleasure to the gods, though I have serious concerns about how pleased the child prostitute could be. With enough money, priestesses could be 'rescued' for marriage.

At Segesta, we traveled up to the site of former cities on a hill a little above that on which the temple sat. The city/town's location was highly defensible, as two rivers passed before it, providing natural barriers. From the hill, you could see the bay & Erice (supposedly–or the massive bonfires Erice would build each night).

The temple of Segesta

The oldest settlements (or remains) at the site appeared to be the Byzantine tombs or the muslim town. This latter was a rare find in Sicily– the foundations of a mosque finding Mecca. When the Normans arrived & conquered the hill, I think they left the mosque alone (unusually), and instead turned their ever-destructive forces towards dismantling a lot of the greco-roman housing & stonework (including the acropolis) in the area. They appropriated the dismantled stone to build their Norman castle & accompanying donkey stables. Niiiiiice one guys.

Restoration efforts have re-used some of the stolen stone, but where the stones are small & numerous instead of large and flat, you can see what the Normans took.

Large flat stones from the acropolis

The acropolis

Further ruins of the dismantled acropolis. Smaller stones indicate Norman construction.  

The final site on the former city was a half-circle amphitheater. This half-circle shape is different from Greek amphitheaters, which enclosed more than 180˚ for better sound capture. This amphitheater once had a tall theater stage closing off the opening, but as with everything else, the Normans dismantled it. 

I'm unsure where in the timeline the Romans fall, but they allowed classic greek plays at the theater for a long time until they instituted Christianity as the official religion. At this point, they banned the plays & named the actors sinful for calling to Zeus and the Pantheon all the time, even if only as part of the play.

As an aside–the guide kept pointing out different plants in the area with special significance. Here's a couple:

Mandrake Root–used for love potions

I've forgotten what plant this is and what significance it held. 

Next: The Temple on the neighboring hill.

Eating in Erice: Option 1 or Option 2?

Eventually, everyone got tired of the standard pasta and sausage the conscripted restaurants were serving and went off menu to explore a bit more.

Granted, once we got through the list of restaurants serving the conference, we started to find more interesting choices: "arancini"–aka 'oranges', fried balls of risotto with delicious ragú center, pizza (eggplant/aubergine was a Sicilian favorite), and meatballs.

Regardless, one night we went to a wine bar for dinner. Here, we had a delicious antipasto with cheese, salami, procuitto, olives, & some sort of sweet garnish. I followed this with some great gnocchi (which I've never been able to pronounce). We tried a local pastry for dessert: a sort of round pastry crust filed with ricotta cheese or cream. My impression of Sicilian cuisine (at this point) was that it is heavy on sugar, carbs, and pistachios and light on vegetables.

Most of the restaurants we went to served a house wine in an unmarked glass decanter. It is served by the liter or half liter and comes in 'red' or 'white', unless you're specifically looking for something. The red we had at the wine bar reminded me of strawberry lip gloss.

The inner courtyard of the converted monastery which hosted us. 

Foot Traffic

Inside Erice, our home base was the Ettore Majorana Foundation & Center for Scientific Culture. The center is named after an outstanding Italian physicist who was born in Sicily in 1906. It hosts many, many scientific meetings across many different disciplines every year. It seems to be one of the two main sources of incoming money for the city–the other being tourism (for the view).

Tourism is here

The center uses several converted monasteries to host meeting participants–I stayed in the San Franciscan building; ironic, I know, what with me being from San Francisco and having just come back from a visit home. Room 21. OF COURSE. (The number stalks me.) The room, though refurbished, contained bare walls, a stony and sandy floor with a few decorated tiles, high ceilings, twin beds, and a tall, shuttered window that opened onto the stairs leading to the floor above. The double doors entering the room were also shuttered, giving a kind of french door feel. There was a bidet in the bathroom (every bathroom had one in Italy), and the soap they gave us (olive oil based) was impossible to open. I wonder if it was more of a philosophical tool: We seek the means to cleanse ourselves, but no matter the force we apply to the method we think will get us there (this being the screw top cap), we are foiled. If this is the case, then f#^k you philosophy, I stabbed it in the side of the plastic bottle with my tweezers and got soap out that way.


The night we arrived, I was peer-pressured into trying Limoncello (it is STRONG and leaves a lemon drop after taste in your mouth), resulting in the hilarity that normally accompanies my alcohol-face, and marsala wine–both sweet and dry–this resulted in less severe alcohol-face, but it is also definitely something you drink sparingly.

The courtyard at Ettore is beautiful. There is an inner garden inside the open courtyard plan of the building. Many of the buildings in historic Erice follow this style. The streets themselves feel narrow and fully enclosed in stone, like a maze made of identical stone streets at every turn (or this is how it feels at first), but inside the front doors, buildings open up into private courtyards with gardens or plants–you've walked into personal space carved out of the crowded surroundings. As it turned out, this architectural structure was echoed in several of the other cities I visited on this trip.

This isn't to say the streets themselves feel unpleasant in Erice–They're mostly very clean and the windows and balconies have interesting ornamentation, ornate railings, and sometimes plant growth along the walls. The walls are largely smooth and bare, without ornament besides what seems to be several species of lichen giving the town a characteristic rosy brown hue. Several dogs have the run of Erice–they stake out one or two streets where they have dominion and flop down on a doorstep.

Some dogs might be street dogs, but not all of them.

Largely the only traffic that passes these canine observers is foot traffic, but once in a while a little garbage cart or an absurdly full-size car will try to make its way through the narrow streets. They really must have a special reason for trying to navigate Erice any other way than by foot.

Beautiful door

Pasted on the wall–fake old?

A private inner courtyard

Outside a restaurant

A typical street in the city.

Artisanal painting

One of my preferred ways to explore a new area is with early morning runs. I'm not a fan of long distance running in general (especially without a dog), but something about exploring areas with old buildings and long histories makes it easier to get up in the morning and lace on my running shoes. On my first morning run, I tried to stay inside the streets of historic Erice (there isn't any room up here for any other, more modern sectors of the town to surround it, leaving the old town isolated and lacking the modern expansions we generally see with other european towns. In those cases, a central city often expands outwards until it swallows several other nearby towns–this helps explain why there are so many churches within one town or city in Europe).
I immediately struggled to pick out landmarks that would prevent me from getting lost. The best I could do at one point was to identify a street by the smell of doughnuts.

The morning sun was gorgeous over the walls and by the mountain next to the bay. I still hadn't quite figured out where to best see this incredible view. It was only the next day that I found my way to the flat outcropping that afforded the best view from ground level. The best view overall was by far that from the coffee break room above our lecture theater; it looks like an oil painting (pictures in the previous post).