Tuesday, March 28, Back to Borghese

I rolled out of the white taxi at 10:50am for the 11am slot I’d reserved on the website. I expected lots of lingering in line given my first experience with the 9am slot, but not so. I hopped from ticket pickup to backpack drop off and was galloping up the stairs lickety-split. I did a u-turn and headed for the first floor, aimed for Bernini. En route I flirted with my favorite brilliant, subversive bad boy, Caravaggio. A classic case of tortured, talented drunk. That’s his self-portrait on Goliath’s face, hanging from David’s fist by his hair. I wish there’d been rehab back in his day.

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I asked a passing tourist to take my photo with Leda and her feathered lover.

Next I admired Bernini’s Persephone being carried off by Hades. It’s the first time I really saw the demented, gleeful expression of this brute god. He clearly relishes his capture of such a prize.  Her horror and despair don’t signify. What I’ve never forgotten was the way Bernini carved the harsh, hard grip of the god by the dents under his fingers in her soft thigh. She struggles, but she’s doomed. I hope the slavering, three-headed dog Cerberus gives her some comfort in the dark Underworld.
I miss you, Maddy!
I noticed the mosaic floor wasn’t frolicking sea creatures, it’s gladiators, which throws me straight to Lucius Verenus and the redoubtable Pullo. 13! !3!
I thought I was casing the joint, deciding what to sketch /look at a long time closely, but the moment I looked up at Daphne and Apollo (the wretch – I really have it in for him for some reason. Pretty, but what a thug,) that was it. I was all in. I stood in a corner, withstanding the surges of tourists, and scrawled away until I was knocked out of the contemplative head space sketching throws me into by the announcing that time was up, time to get out.
I packed up my pencils and realized I’d lost one of my pink cashmere mittens. Dang. I went to look for it, though the guards were very skeptical, they permitted a quick look around. No luck. But my luck changed when I made it to the ground floor, asked if they had a lost & found and the guard produced, like magic, my pink glove. Lucky!

I’d taken note of the nearby taxi rank that morning, so I walked through the park to it, and hopped.  It took me a second to realize the back seat was filled with glitter. The driver looked back and told me his last fare was a bridal party.  I was in a corner that escaped the glitter zone, a good thing given my black denim jeans. I had another good meal at Valentino’s It really feels like home. Glad I’m on this side of town now. Walked back to the hotel, stopping for an apple and some dried fruit and saw this gem in the racks.

Gluten Free!