Stendhal Syndrome

We're done. Twenty four days, three countries, two families, planes, trains, automobiles, buses, and ferries, monasteries, forts, museums and ruins...we're ready for home.

The last two days here in Rome we mostly just wandered about but just doing that here is overwhelming:  near the Pantheon? let's take a quick peek, Baths of Diocletian around the corner? Might as well go see.

For a flavour of these few days...

What would Jep do?

And now Rome. This is the sixth and last leg of our trip. Fittingly for "Footsteps of the Emperors" it ends in the city that began it all. Thing is though, by late antiquity Rome was a backwater, the action on the frontiers meant that many emperors had little occasion to visit Rome. Some never did at all. Their footsteps would be hard to follow. Instead, on our few days here, we will follow different footsteps, in this case those of a fictional modern day king of the Roman social scene: Jep Gambardella.

Jep is the lead character in La Grande Bellezza--The Great Beauty. LGB won the Oscar for Best Foreign Language film in 2013. The film opens with Jep's 65th birthday party and continues as he wanders through Rome ruminating on his life, work, constant socializing, and on a lost love. It's a fantastic film. And like Woody Allen's, Manhattan, or Durell's, Alexandria, the star of the show is the titular city itself, Rome.

So in our 3 days here we won't do all the classic sites. Instead, we'll do what Jep might do: art galleries, less-visited smaller museums, and then a lot of wandering around Rome and maybe seeing some of the sites in the movie. 

Today, for example, we saw Centrale Montemartini. CM is former power station repurposed as a museum for some of the Capitoline Museum's treasures. The juxtaposition of classical statuary and huge machinery is striking and it works--even with the faint smell of lubricating oils coming off the machinery.

Our second stop was MAXXI, the National Museum of 21st century arts (and architecture). The building by Zaha Hadid is itself a piece of art. The first thing to see in the lobby, is an Anish Kapoor (but not, I think, one of his best). 

We plan on seeing Rome from the fountain on the Janiculum Hill (scene from LGB) the Doria Pamphili Gallery (the must-see, Velazquez's, Innocent X) and the new museum of Domitian's Stadium. To keep us going (as we are both very very tired) cappuccino, croissant, and the occasional glass of wine. Jep, I think, would approve.

Things fall apart

The pavement of Monument plaza has a long rectangle of paving that is different from the rest of the square paving stones. It's easy to miss, I did. Our first stop on the Military Tour of Vis was at the entrance to what had been the island's second largest Yugoslavian army base. On a small piece of overgrown lawn and gravel lie a dozen blocks of marble and granite. On the three largest blocks of what used to be white marble are some incompletely chiseled out words. So, if you can read Serbo-Croatian, you'd be able to read a famous saying of Marshall Tito's that goes something like this, "we don't want what belongs to others, and we will defend what belongs to us." The marble blocks as one will guess, used to sit on the rectangular pavement on Monument plaza. Seems that even though Tito was a local Croatian boy who made good he is, because of his Yugoslavian connection, persona non grata to Croatian nationalists. The Romans called it, damnatio memoriae.

I initially thought that being on Vis / Issa would be a digression from the theme of footsteps of the emperors. Instead I'm finding that imperial collapse is not so different from national collapse. Vis is littered with decaying bits of its Yugoslavian recent past. Yesterday we visited a Submarine pen, a series of costal gun batteries, a nuclear fallout shelter for Tito and 50 important officials, and two abandoned bases. That Croatia is much smaller than Yugoslavia, the Croatian military has no need for all these sites. At least, that's what I think. Surprisingly, Tito's cave was still signed and its interior not tagged. Although that could be because the site was so remote.

The submarine pen and the costal gun batteries were the least depressing. In part, because they were most open to the outdoors. It's hard to be depressed on the Croatian coast, when the sun shines it's glorious. Underground bases and fallout shelters are another thing entirely--creepy! Still being in Tito's rooms 60+ metres underground was very cool. 

Beyond theses sites there are other remnants of the Yugoslavian past. In central Vis, for example,there's Dom JNA (Hall of Yugoslavian Army). Formerly the place to go for military and civilians alike. It had a bandstand, a marble dance floor, and a bar. Nowadays it is Club Vista, a cultural centre. It was good to see the facility maintained and used.

It's hard to say why things are the way they are here. I don't speak or read Serbo-Croatian. We don't have TV here, let alone the time to watch it. What I see as abandonment and a wilful erasure of the past may simply be the effects of economic and demographic collapse. Vis, Zak's cousin says, is losing 100 a year as the young move to the mainland or further, and the old die.  And if Zak's Croatian family are any indication they have a healthy cynicism of official nationalism. They've seen it all, and if I can say this after only a week with them, family wins out. Things fall apart and sometimes come back together.

It's Neolithic. No, it's Roman.

I could explain the absence of a post for the last 4 (or is it 5?) days because of the lack of wifi. And that  is at least part of the reason for not posting. But the bigger reason is island life itself. Four days of this laid back existence and I worry, how will we cope with Split and after that Rome? Rome!

First it was the 2 hour ferry from Split. The blue sea and sky, the wind, the mountains, the islands receding into the distance, they all set the stage for Vis. As the ferry turned around the peninsula of Priviro came the sounds of a marching band. And there beside them was a twirling corp of young women dressed in street clothes. A flash mob twirling corp? Zak's mum explained that the town was practicing for an expected delegation from a Slovenian city interested in twinning with Vis. The blue sky gave way to an overcast sky and a constant cool damp wind. It was the southern wind, the Jugo. Islanders know their winds. Each wind is named and each has distinct characteristics, Jugo is the bad one, the one that makes people crazy. Town meetings are rescheduled when the Jugo blows. Welcome to Vis, known to the Greeks, Romans, and Byzantines as Issa.

The next day the Jugo cleared and the languid business of wandering around the town began. Both Vis and it's connected village of Kut have seen better days. Too many of the gorgeous sepia-toned buildings are in ruins and some of the most splendid Renaissance palaces are subdivided. That it was past the summer peak season added to the sense of ennui. Island life centres around the big midday meal followed by afternoon siesta followed by a late afternoon swim. We got into the drift soon enough.

Beyond the lack of Wifi, beyond "island life" there is actually a third reason for not writing. And that is, that there are no imperial footsteps to follow here. But for Byzantine emperor, Constantine Porphorygenitus' one mention of Issa in his famous work, Administering the Empire, there is no record of a Caesar, an Augustus, or a Tetrach setting foot here. It's odd that they didn't because, being at the crossroads of the Adriatic, Vis is strategically important. It seems that everyone has sailed over it and then marched through, except the Avars and Ottoman Turks.

We've spent a lot of time at Zak's mum's place here meeting the extended family. And so it came to me that Zak's mum's house is the Vis / Issa experience in minature. Although now drywalled over, the back wall of the kitchen conceals an enormous boulder. There is some family disagreement about it: some say it's part of Neolithic wall, others say that it's a Roman construction. That it's not a natural feature, all agree on.

Built into the front wall of the house is nifty bit of spolia, an ancient Greek tombstone. And get this, there used to be a second Greek tombstone, this second one built into the back wall of the house. Sadly (depending on your perspective) this one was claimed by the archaeology dept as the family moved it from the wall while doing a bathroom renovation. Seems you can keep such spolia that's built into your house, but once you disturb it, it becomes state property. (Picture to come, after I figure out how to climb up onto the ledge and get one!)

As if this wasn't enough, the platform in the backyard was the base of a British communication station during WWII.

To add one more layer to the historic palimpsest, the house is also a living example of class and economic divisions of a Mediterranean town. In this hillside town, the closer to the water you are the higher your status and economic position. The higher you are, the closer you are to your poor farming roots. We're high up on the hill and the view is gorgeous.

All this history underfoot and inhouse makes up for the lack of imperial footsteps. It took me a few days to get it.

 

Those pesky Avars and Game of Thrones

Seems that we've been following the hoof beats of the Avars since Sremska Mitrova. There, in the museum we saw a river boat that had been hollowed out from a huge oak. The archeologist told us that the Avars commandeered such riverboats and tied them together to make a bridge of boats. This enabled them to move quickly across river barriers. Poor Sirmium was sacked by them. The archaeologists have identified holes in the palace floor mosaics from Avar tent pegs. How's that for bringing history to life? 

Now here in Split again we see those pesky Avars at work. This morning we visited the fortress of Klis. Described as the most important Croatian fortress in Dalmatia, Klis commands the route from the interior to costal Dalmatia. Klesia (previous name) was equally important to the Romans. When they lost it to the Avars, it was shortly thereafter that Salona was sacked by those Avars. Survivors from Salona moved into Diocletians's palace and thus began Split and eventually Croatia. To counter the Avars, Emperor Heraclius invited Croatian tribes to attack them from the north. Result: Avars are scattered to the wind and Croatians settle down and stay.

Late this afternoon we walked up Marjan Hill and from there we were able to see Fortress Klis, the site of Salona, and Diocletians's palace all in one go. It was a neat pulling together and summing up of history and our trip, thus far. Tomorrow we take the ferry, Petar Hektorovic, to Vis, formerly the Greek, Issa. As far as I know the Adriatic was too much for the Avars, they didn't make it to Vis.

This brings me to Game of Thrones. It seems that many episodes have been filmed here in Split and in Fortress Klis. Yes, there is artful camouflaging of power cables and WC signs, but one can easily see how this place is a natural for GoT. Now that I've seen the vast sub structures of the palace and Fortress Klis, I'll re-watch GoT and try to match the scenes with what we've seen here. A particularly good scene from Season 5 is Danerys running out of the dragon lair in the palace substructure. And, apparently Fortress Klis stands in for Mereen. 

A note about the pictures. None of the ones we took from Marjan hill looking inland to Fortress Klis and Salona were really clear. Instead I've used one from Fortress Klis looking out towards the sea. In this first picture the fort is in the foreground, the green in the centre middle distance is the site of Salona, and the city on the coast is Split.

This last picture is of Split from Marjan hill, the vista was so beautiful Zak suggested I use it.

Oh, to retire and grow Kupus (cabbage)

If you are a Roman history freak like me you'll understand that the post title refers to emperor Diocletian. He, famously, was the only emperor to retire from office, after which he moved to his newly-built palace in Dalmatia outside Salona and there to grow cabbage. Or, so it is said about the cabbage part.

Today is our first full day in Split in a little 400 sq foot or so studio apartment just outside the Iron Gate of the palace. 

Lesson 1. Read Airbnb descriptions carefully. We both misread the apartment description and thought that the studio was within the palace.

Lesson 2. Jump on good listings right away. We had a chance to book a larger  albeit more expensive apartment inside the palace that had the pediment of the temple of Jupiter project into the apartment. By the time we tried to book it, well it wasn't available for our three nights. Still, our studio is in a building that is at least from the Renaissance. Plus, it's nifty how well it has been designed to compress so much into such a small space. 

The palace is pretty well fantastic, the best preserved one in existence. It has much similar to Felix Romuliana (Gamzigrad) but as Diocletian was the senior emperor it's much grander. Our walking tour guide this morning credited its survival to the people that moved into it after the empire fell. Selfish me would like to see everyone moved out and the post classical additions removed. 

As it is Split is going the way of Venice and Dubrovnik: locals are moving out and everything is turning into a large hotel / restaurant / coffee shop / chill lounge aimed at the tourist market. And that's actually very sad. Our guide spoke of how young Croatians hope to leave to the "promised land, Canada." Interestingly, he also said that Croatia has paid more into the EU than it has gotten in return. Pro-Yugoslav me...be careful what you wish for.

This afternoon we head out view the temple of Jupiter, followed by the massive sub-structures of the palace. Supper tonight will be prepared food from the local supermarket--have I mentioned how expensive Croatia is? How locals survive is a mystery.

Driving to Byzantium*

I've described this blog as about visits to Roman and Byzantine imperial sites in Serbia and some of the former Yugoslavia. In reviewing the posts I think that it may seem that I've been short on the Byzantine content. This actually reflects the reality of how Byzantine control ebbed and flowed over the Balkans.

But, as we visited monasteries (Manasija, Ravanica, Lubostinja, Zica, and Studenica) it wasn't hard to quickly notice the soft power of the Byzantine state. In every monastery were frescoes that demonstrated the cultural power that Byzantium exerted over the Balkans and beyond.

The frescos of Serbian Emperors, Despots, Princes, and their Queens for example, show them garbed in Byzantine imperial regalia. Similarly the images of Christ, Mary, and the multitude of saints clearly show their Byzantine (and classical) inspiration. This is not to say that these frescos are second rate copies, they are beautiful and wonderous in their own right. Their roots, however, are Byzantine.

Unfortunately, though, we never did see a monastery that wasn't desecrated in some way. Not one, not even the most remote, has made it to the present intact. The culprit in most cases was the Ottoman Turks who were unfamiliar with the Koranic injunction against using force in religion. The next worst culprit was inept restorers. Studencia monastery is a prime example of both. The Turks burnt the monastery and restorers thought the burnt frescoes too damaged to restore so they chipped at them and plastered them over for new frescoes. The "new" frescoes have been removed and work is slowly proceeding on restoring the original, now chipped frescoes. It's a painful experience to look at the gouged masterpieces.

* Apologies to WBY.