12 - Ready to Wear

After Sofia and her mother returned from Florence, the promise made by Signora Angelino to venture to Milan seemed like a distant memory. In fact, Sofia had all but forgotten about it until the first week of school, when her history teacher mentioned Milan during his lecture on the Lombardy family’s reign over Italy almost fifteen centuries earlier.

“Although the Lombards came to power, their reign was never complete. They faced invasions from every front – whether it was the migrating Germanic tribes from the north or the Austrians and Franks from east and west. During the Holy Roman Empire, Charlemagne invaded, replacing the Lombard royalty with Kings and Dukes of his own.”

Sofia went home later that afternoon. Her mother and father were both home, enjoying chocolate-almond biscotti with a cup of coffee. Sofia joined them, opting for cold chocolate milk instead of coffee.

“Mama, do you think we will go to Milan soon?”

“I suppose we could. What made you think of that?”

“Signore Bolognone was talking about the Lombardys during history class today. Are we related to them?”

“As Vittorio Guiseppe says…”

“It’s all related…” everyone said in unison.

By the end of September, it was fashion season in Milan. That was a perfect excuse for a vacation. Everyone’s bags were packed and the Angelinos were on their way to Milan.

They went to the Leonardo da Vinci airport in the center of Rome and boarded an Alitalia flight to Milan. As Sofia buckled herself into her aisle seat, the pilot made an announcement.

“On behalf of myself and the crew, I’d like to thank you for choosing Alitalia, flying ‘Made in Italy’.”

It was a short three-hour trip to Uncle Vince’s house in Milan. It was where both Vinces, ‘little and big’, lived. Even thought Sofia was excited to see her grandfather, she still managed to sleep until the plane arrived in the airspace over the city.

“That’s Milan?”

Her mother nodded as Sofia peered out her window. A patchwork of fields and farmland, colored yellow and green, passed by below. They gave way to the outskirts of Milan, which was dotted with small homes. Soon, that too gave way to the metropolis. Old gothic cathedrals mixed with multiple-story palaces and modern skyscrapers. It was not much unlike Naples or Syracuse, other than the surrounding geography.

Uncle Vincenzo and Grandpa greeted them at the airport and took them home. The sun was shining brightly and conversation was light and breezy – mostly catching up with each other’s lives. This is where Signora Angelino grew up, back in the days when she was known as Signorina Francesca Lombardo – Miss Fran Lombardo.

Milan was located in the region long known as Lombardy. To be in Lombardy, thought Sofia, was like being home.

“Grandpa?” said Sofia, “

“There are still Lombadys today – some are named Lombardy. Some are named Lombard. Some are named Lombardo, just like us…”

“How come there are so many names if we’re all from the same relatives?”

“Back then, when families quarreled, they often changed their names.”

“I would never want to give up my name,” said Sofia.

“You’ll have to one day,” her mother reminded her.

“I’m going to be an Angelino forever.”

“I once thought I’d always be a Lombardo, but nothing lasts forever, dear. The Lombard kings were in a prime European location, but still close to Rome and the Mediterranean. Unfortunately, they were also close to Paris and Charlemagne, the King of the Franks. 

So that was it – the Lombards were expelled from the throne by a foreign king. Except for the Pope in Rome, all of Italy came to be ruled by all of its neighbors. The Republics, which had been its strength for half a millennium, were now its weakness.”

“What do you mean by ‘its weakness’?”

“Even thought the Republics of Italy were strong, they were much smaller and weaker than the old Empire.”

“Italy was tired,” said Grandpa Vincenzo, “they remembered the glory of Ancient Rome, but the Franks and Germans and Austrians were all having wars on Italian soil. Famous Italian Niccolo Machiavelli wrote a book called The Prince. He explained the evils of Kings and Dukes. Other writers used Machiavelli’s ideas to detail their own dreams of a Unified Italy.”

“But Machiavelli believed in rule by any means necessary,” said Frannie.

“I know, and that’s exactly what three men, Giuseppe Garibaldi, The Count Cavour, and Giuseppe Mazzini, ended up doing.”

“How can you say that? They were all the founders of United Italy.”

“Mazzini, Garibaldi, and Cavour all had different dreams of a Unified Italy. Eventually, they took their own personal land victories and gave them to King Victor Emmanuel of Piedmont. He unified Italy, making it a Kingdom. Mazzini, who believed in the Republic, was unhappy with the Unified Kingdom of Italy. Still, it was unified and he was one of the men responsible.”

The houses of central Milan huddled together like a pack of kittens – each one distinct, but still part of a tribe. When they arrived at Uncle Vincenzo’s house, it was much the same. A pack of relatives, from Grandma Loretta to the two youngest, twins Gio and Giulia, Uncle Vincenzo’s whole clan was there – greeting them with open arms.

Little Vinnie’s house was large by Milan standards. There were four bedrooms. Each one was filled with two occupants except one. That was Giulia’s loft in the attic.

“Venga! Venga!” Giulia commanded Sofia, so Sofia went with Giulia to her bedroom. It was cramped, but big enough for two small girls. Besides, Sofia liked the unique sloped ceiling that was also the house’s roof.

Giulia went to the window and called Sofia again.

A tall gothic cathedral punctuated Milan’s otherwise flat horizon line.

“Is that the Duomo?” asked Sofia.

Giulia nodded.

“Where’s the dome?”

“There isn’t one.”

Sofia thought it strange that the Milan Cathedral didn’t have a dome like the ones in Naples, Florence, and Rome. Then again, it was an old Gothic Cathedral – built in a time when spires and steeples were the fashion.

“We must go!”

Sofia rushed downstairs again. The rest of the family was settling in before dinner. Sofia barged into the living room with her demands.

“Mama! Papa! Could we go to the Duomo?”

“I’ve got to go to the quadrilatero anyway, so I’m sure we could stop there, too.”

Sofia spent the night focused on the trip to Milan’s shopping district. All of Italy’s world famous designers, including Bulgari, Cavalli, Dolce and Gabbana, Gucci, Moschino, Prada, Versace, and Vendi had shops on the famous promenade.

Milan was also home to two Fashion Weeks – one for Spring and Summer and another for Fall and Winter. It was the last week of September, which meant Signora Angelino was there for the Fall and Winter collections.

Early the next morning, the house was abuzz with activity as Aunt Josefina prepared breakfast. As Sofia entered the kitchen, Josefina pulled the baking pan from the oven. Small sweet rolls filled the pan.

“Brioche?” asked Sofia.

Aunt Josefina nodded.

Signora Angelino was there, too, making espresso and warming milk for hot chocolate. Like Sofia, Josefina’s children preferred hot chocolate to coffee any day of the week.

Everyone rushed through breakfast. Afterwards, Aunt Josefina led the charge. They would not be going by car, but by trolley-bus. The trolley bus glided through the automobile-free pedestrian avenues. Sofia looked this way and that.

“Papa? Do you think we could go to the Duomo?”

“Your mother will be at the fashion show all day long. I suppose she wouldn’t mind if we took a little side trip.”

When they arrived at the quadrilatero, everyone disembarked. The promenade had two large rectangular buildings on each side. They were blocky and plain. Magnificent and fancy clothing filled the large picture windows of every store on the avenue. Even more appealing to Sofia were the people walking along the promenade. They wore designer clothes. Many of them looked like fashion models. They could easily fill the windows just like the fancy mannequins.

Signora Angelino was headed to the show. Although it was an international event, she only had a pair of VIP passes inside. She’d take Aunt Josefina along. Meanwhile, Signore Angelino, Uncle Vince, and Grandpa would take the children to the Duomo.

They returned to the trolley stop and rode a short way across down to the Duomo. It loomed over the city like the old town guard. The towering spires decorated every pillar of the cathedral.

“Where is the dome?” asked Sofia.

“There isn’t one,” said her grandfather.

“But it’s the Duomo.”

“Duomo is just a name for all of the Italian cathedrals. Since Milan is so close to Germany and France, the church leaders decided it would be best if they built it more like the Gothic Churches of the northern countries.”

People ambled aimlessly about the Piazza. Occasionally, bicyclists drifted along the cobblestone promenade.

Meanwhile, Frannie and Josefina were at the edge of the catwalk, watching prêt-à-porter – the ready-to-wear collection for the colder months.

Models journeyed back and forth along the sidewalk as they paraded the fall designs on the catwalk. Meanwhile, designers and fashion buyers both stood nearby, watching every move.

Each designer had his or her own set of models. While one designer’s clothes were being displayed, another designer was working feverishly backstage with his models.

Clothes were pinned carefully into place for each model, while a hair stylist, make-up artist, and personal fitter all attended to each model.

These were the dresses and suits that would be on the clothes racks of every young girl around the world. Just because they were ready-to-wear, it didn’t mean the models could look anything less than perfect. These dresses would be selected by people like Signora Angelino to place on clothes racks in stores around the world. If the designers and their teams of stylists didn’t impress the fashion buyers, their clothes would never be worn. This was the fashion world’s most important event.

After Sofia and Giulia and the rest of the family finished their tour of the Cathedral, they returned to the quadrilatero.

“I wonder what mom is doing,” said Sofia.

“She should be just about finished,” said her father.

Signore Angelino found a gelaterie and led his troops inside. The air conditioning was going full blast as the workers took orders and scooped gelato into bowls or cones.

“It’s on me!” announced Grandpa Vincenzo.

Everyone ordered gelato and began eating inside the gelaterie. Unfortunately, it was so crowded, there wan’t a place to sit. Everyone headed outside.

The evening sun was still hot. Sofia’s mocha chip cone began to melt. She licked as fast as she could, but could not keep up with the sun or the cone. Big chocolate spots spattered on her shorts and shirt.

“Ohhh!”

It was just about that time her aunt and mother returned from a busy day of professional shopping.

“You look a mess!” said Sofia’s mother.

“It was an accent.”

Luckily, Signora Angelino had fresh sets of clothes and swatches of fabric. After Sofia finished her cone, her mother led her to the bathroom. She picked out one of the more plain dresses. She even had needle and fabric to make quick alterations, just like the designers back stage at the ready-to-wear fashion show.

“There,” said Signora Angelino as she draped the blouse over Sofia’s shoulders.

“I feel weird.”

“Nonsense,” said her mother, “it’s fashion week. Why not look like a fashionista?”

So Sofia was all dressed up with no place to go. It was okay, because they were headed back to the Lombaro’s house. Both Gio and Giulia admired their cousin’s new outfit.

“It’s only temporary,” said Sofia’s mother, “I have to get this back to our designers in Rome.”

Still, Sofia did feel like a fashionista, even if it was only for the short trip home. As soon as she got inside, her mother ordered her out of the designer wear. Sofia changed back into regular clothes and everyting was back to normal.

“Are we going home now?”

“Heavens no! This lasts all week.”

“Good.”

Of all of her cousins, Sofia liked Gio and Giulia the best. Now, she’d have ample time to spend with them.

.

11 - Something Old Something New

Sofia sat beside her mother as they rode northward along the Italian coast to the region known as Tuscany. The car curled through the seaside valleys. Vineyards decorated the rolling hills. Leafy green grapevines hung from wooden grape boughs, like clean linen stretched across a clothesline.

Clouds settled along the coast all the way to the port city of Pisa. Sofia knew it by its famous leaning tower and its most famous resident, Galileo Galilei. A trip to Pisa would have to wait for another day, though. Today she was going to Firenze – the Italian city of Florence.

It was only another hour from Pisa to Florence and the Arno River guided the way as Signora Angelino drove east. Rural Italian villas gave way to the Florentine cityscape.

The red roofs of the Italian villas huddled together, so close a person could walk across the city without ever stepping foot on solid ground. The streets were narrow but paved. Motorcycles shared the road with mama’s Fiat. When Signora Angelino crossed the Arno, she reached downtown. Four and five story buildings towered overhead.

“These buildings are nothing like the ones at home,” said Sofia.

“That’s because they were built during the Italian Renaissance in the late 1300s. Roma still recovered from the Dark Ages and the Plague while Firenze became the center of everything Italian. The great artists and architects flourished here.”

“Why didn’t it happen in Rome?”

“You’ll have to ask your Uncle Vittorio Giuseppe. He knows all about it.”

Uncle Vittorio Giuseppe worked as an accountant for the Bank of Italy in Florence. It was likely the most important bank in Italy. In the 14^th Century, it was possibly the most important bank in the entire world.

Frannie parked the car on the street and gave Sofia some coins for the parking meter. They headed into one of the buildings and up the stairs.

Vittorio Giuseppe and his family occupied the third floor of a condominium building. Sofia knocked on the door. Her cousin Antonio answered.

“Tony!” she called gleefully.

“Sophie! Aunt Frannie!”

With a hug, he invited them into the apartment. The apartment house was big and airy.

“Mom baked some Ziti Florentine. Would you like some?”

“I would love some of Aunt Sophia’s homemade Ziti!” said Frannie.

They gathered around the dinner table as Aunt Sophia carefully placed her baking dish in the center of the table. Sofia reached for the baking dish. It was very hot.

“Attenzione Sofie, è caldo!”

Sofia quickly withdrew her hand. After everyone else settled into their places, Uncle Vittorio recited the Lord’s Prayer.

“Padre nostro, che sei nei cieli, sia santificato il tuo Nome. Venga il tuo Regno. La tua volontà sia fatta in terra, come in cielo...”

Aunt Sophia ladled scoops of Baked Ziti Florentine onto little Sofie’s plate first. Sofia waited until everyone was served before digging in. Melted mozzarella covered sun-dried tomatoes, sausage, and the tubular ziti noodles. Everyone was too busy eating to talk, but with Frannie at the table, that did not last long at all.

“Victor Joseph, your niece was wondering about the Italian Renaissance.”

“Ah,” he said, “I know you are from Roma, but Firenze is where Italy had another of its Golden Ages. The Roman Empire was dealing with barbarian invasions from Europe and Asia. Because of this, smaller kingdoms rose in power. Dukes and Lords, who owned large plots of land became richer. Cities developed into city-states, where they ruled heir regions without outside powers like Presdients or the Caesars in Rome.”

“No,” interruped Frannie, “I was talking about the art and arhcitecture.”

“It’s all connected,” said Vittorio, “along with the invasions came a mini Ice Age. The few crops that grew were consumed by wild animals and vermin. Famine and disease, including the Black Plague, spread throughout Asia and Europe, killing many people. With less workers to do jobs, wages increased. This led to the demand of luxury items, like fine art.”

“That’s not what I meant,” interrupted Aunt Frannie, “Let me tell it.”

“The Tuscans had been around a long time before the Italian Renaissance. Before that, there were the Greek and Roman Empires.

The Greeks and Romans were connected by the Etruscans, which is the old name for the people of Tuscany. It is plainly seen today whenever you use pencil and paper.”

Aunt Frannie fished a pencil and pad from her purse and wrote in cursive.

“This is a form of italics – the very word for ancient Italian writing.”

Aunt Frannie then inscribed strange symbols on her writing pad.

“This first row is Greek letters and right below are the same letters in Phoenician. The Greek alphabet, which is similar to the Etruscan alphabet,  was based on ancient Phoeniecian. The Phoenicians came from ancient Palestine, Jordan, and Syria. As these cultures ventured across the Mediterranean, they weren’t just trading goods, but they were trading cultures and ideas, like ancient languages.”

“Buono,” said Victor Joe.

Good, he said. He was referring not only to his sister’s description of things, but the word itself. He explained the variants of the word good for everyone at the table. In Italian, he’d say “buono”; in Spanish, he’d say “bien”; in French, he’d simply say “bon”.

He spoke of the Romance languages: the Italian, Spanish, and French, They emerged together from conquest and trade during the Roman Empire.

“Now we’re really getting off-track, little brother,” said Frannie.

“I thought you started this topic...”

“I did, but I was just talking about the romance of the Italian Renaissance.”

“It’s all...”

“I know,” she interrupted, “it’s all related. The real glory of Italy is here. Firenze is home to the Medici.

Italy was being torn apart by forces from within and brought together by forces from without. The Black Death had created noblemen out of bankers. It had also encouraged the development of the arts. The Medici family financed workshops throughout Florence. Eventually, workshops were set up in every city-state.

Those who mastered their craft controlled their destiny. The rich required both the blacksmiths and the painters to advance their socitety.”

“Venga! Venga!” ordered Victor Joe as he moved towards the large window overlooking Florence and the Arno River. He pointed to a dome rising over the city.

“That is the Duomo Florence. It’s the main Catholic Church here.. Do you see the tiny globe mounted atop that dome?”

Sofia nodded.

“It weighs two metric tons. That’s as much as  six elephants. When the globe was created, the dome had already been built. The problem was getting the globe there. In those days, they didn’t have cranes, so the craftsmen who worked at the same workshop as Leonardo were in charge of getting it there. They built an elaborate system of pulleys and cranes. All these machines were operated by hand. When they succeeded, da Vinci learned a great deal about architectural engineering.”

Francesca extended her left arm.

“You know da Vinci’s famous sketch of ‘Vitruvian Man’, right?”

Sofia nodded.

“It shows how he understood the connection between engineering and art. Like Victor Joe says, ‘it’s all related.’ He knew that to accurately portray all things natural, you have to understand such concepts as dimension and perspective. You have to understand how things are related.”

“I’m your niece!” Sofia proclaimed.

Victor Joe chuckled. “Yes you are. I mean the relationship between distances. In his notebooks, he penned the proportional nature of bodies, whether human or animal. Da Vinci left Florence for Milan. When he was there, he used his engineering experience to sculpt a 24-foot one-piece statue of a horse cast in bronze for the Duke of Milan. That horse would weigh 70 tons – an entire armhy of elephants. Unfortunately, the Duke was dealing with possible invasion from the French, so he used the bronze to make cannons.

Still, Leonardo da Vinci’s greatest works stemmed from his engineering skills. If you look at “The Last Supper”, you see the attention to detail and the relationship between Jesus and the disciples. The human reaction on the faces combining perfectly with the balanced nature of the room itself. I think it is one of the world’s greatest masterpieces.”

“Don’t forget Mona Lisa,” added Aunt Frannie.

“That came later. First, he had to become part of a war machine.”

“What do you mean?” asked Sofia.

“The city-states were warring all through da Vinci’s life. A nobleman named Borgia in Milan employed Leonardo as his military architect. Luckily, it lasted only a year, but da Vinci’s notebooks are filled with sketches and drawings of all sorts of weapons of war. His works on this subject were amazing.”

Victor Joe grabbed a modern crossbow from his gun cabinet and showed it to Sofia. Before Sofia could hold it in her own hands, Frannie stopped him. Vittorio Giuseppe cranked the handle, pulling the crossbow into the ready position.

“Da Vinci always thought on a grand scale. He wanted to build one with a bow about thirteen meters wide. Instead of using crossbow bolts, he wanted his crossbow to fire heavy cannonballs.”

“Phew!” exclaimed Sofia.

“Luckily, not even the man who hired da Vinci as a military architect ultimately kept him around. Who knows what could have happened?”

Uncle Vittorio releaased the tension on the crossbow string and placed it back in its cabinet. Meanwhile, Aunt Sophie cleared the table.

“Would you like some Gelatto for dessert?” she offered.

Everyone’s faces lit up as ready-made bowls emerged from the freezer.

“Let’s enjoy this with a view of the setting sun,” said Victor Joe.

To Sofia, the chilly bites of gelato seemed the perfect end to a long day. By the look on everyone’s faces, it seemed everyone agreed.

.

10 - Taking Up the Cross

The duomo that rose over Rome was the same duomo that rose over the entire Catholic Church. It was the symbol of Catholic authority.

Upon Sofia and Signora Angelino’s return home, Rome was abuzz with activity. The most recent Pope had fallen ill and passed away within the last two weeks. Many devout Catholics attended the Pope’s burial and prayed during a time of mourning. Now, they waited for the election of the new Pope.

The College of Cardinals gathered in the Pauline Chapel within Vatican City to elect a new Pope. Sofia must have passed by Vatican City, the city within a city, a thousand times.

“Mama?”

“Yes, my dear?”

“Can we visit Saint Peter’s Basilica?”

“If you would like…what brought that on?”

“I have never been there.”

“Sure you have…”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Never?”

Sofia shook her head.

“Then we must go. The Papal election is coming tomorrow afternoon. We will watch for the white smoke.”

“Ah, the white smoke.”

“Then, it’s a date.”

Smoke was the universal symbol of the election results. Black smoke meant no Pope had been chosen. White smoke, however, meant there was a new Pope. After the Cardinals took a vote, the ballots were burned. Artificial means (like damp straw or hay) were used to color the smoke black. To avoid confusion, the Cardinals also tolled a bell to signal a successful election.

The next morning, Sofia was up early with her father, watching the television. A mass of thousands gathered inside Saint Peter’s square within the walls of Vatican City. Everyone waited and watched for quite some time. Then, the signal went up. A heavy white flume came from the chimney pipe. Everyone cheered, including Sofia and her father.

Signora Angelino emerged from the bathroom.

“A new Pope?”

“Si, mama!” shouted Sofia triumphantly as trip across town. It was only a short distance, but the journey would become a personal crusade.

Everyone rushed to Signore Angelino’s Fiat. They drove down the hill, but as soon as they faced the main intersection, it was clogged with traffic.

Sofia had never been amidst this chaos before. Across the city, the Pope-elect faced a similar situation. The head of the Cardinal College, the Cardinal Dean, held conference with the Pope-elect.

“Bishop, do you accept your election as Supreme Pontiff?”

“Yes, I accept.”

The Cardinal Dean led the Bishop to a small red room known as the Room of Tears. A full adornment of clothes waited within.

He first put on his white alb, a simple papal robe and added the small shoulder linen known as the amice. He draped the gold maniple cape over his shoulders, followed by the red scarf known as the stole.

Embroidered gold crosses filled out the design of the stole. Tiny red crosses, made of metal, decorated the fringe. They jingled as the bishop tied them in place with a thin silk cord he wore as a belt. He ran his hands along the smooth edges of his papal robes as he looked in the mirror.

Meanwhile, Signore Angelino had found a space for his tiny Fiat and he led his family towards the Vatican. The nearer they got, the thicker the crowds got.

“We should stop at a restaurant,” pleaded Sofia’s mother.

“Have a little faith and we’ll make it.”

The Cardinal Dean gave a knock on the door to the Room of Tears.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

The Cardinal Dean opened the door and gave the Bishop a quick check.

“Where is your scepter and pallium? And your ring?”

“I nearly forgot.”

The bishop returned to the vanity and put on the final touches. He stood still while the Cardinal Dean carefully installed the pallium upon his head. Now, he was about to officially be introduced as Pope.

The Angelinos, however, were just on the other side of the River Tiber, with the rest of Rome.

“Come with me,” said father.

He led them cross-wise through the city streets, seemingly away from the direction of all other traffic. However, the going was smooth as they weaved through the empty cross streets. Signore Angelino zigged and zagged until they reached a bridge.

“The Tiber!” exclaimed Sofia.

“The Duomo!” said father as he pointed up to their final destination. The Via Cola di Rienzo lay ahead, a near-straight shot towards the dome. Meanwhile, a loud cheer came from that very direction.

When the Bishop was ready, the Cardinal Dean proceeded to the balcony. The long, red curtain opened and the Cardinal appeared athe balcony. The crowd greeted him enthusiastically.

“Hermanos e hermanas, il piacere di presentare il papa.” – Brothers and sisters, it is my pleasure to introduce the Pope.

Another cheer went up as the Bishop emerged from behind the red curtains. Now, he was officially Pope – the Bishop of Rome and reigning leader of the Catholic Church.

As he addressed the crowd, Signore Angelino fought through the crowds, slowly making his way to the dome. The Pope’s voice echoed in the streets of Rome as it sounded from the Public Address speakers encircling the Vatican. At the end of each verse, the crowd responded in unison.

“Amen!”

The Angelinos echoed that sentiment as they continued onward through the crowds.

“Amen!” said Papa.

“Amen!” said Mama.

“Amen!” said Sofia.

As if it were a miracle, the crowds suddenly seemed to thin as they turned onto the road into the heart of Vatican City. Ahead lie the massive complex of buildings, each one held upright by strong Roman columns. The great obelisk and fountain marked the central square, which wasn’t square at all, but circular. The basilica sat at the far end. The tiny figure of the Pope loomed large in the balcony window.

“There he is!” said father.

Sofia nodded.

They passed through the square. The first thing Sofia noticed were the men in strange gold, purple, and red striped garb, along with dark violet Renaissance-era hats.

“Who are those men?”

“It’s the Swiss Guard. They are the personal bodyguards of the Vatican.”

“With only about 100 soldiers,” added Signora Angelino, “they’re also the world’s smallest army.”

“”Why would anyone need the world’s smallest army?” asked Sofia.

“The Pope’s power has evolved since the times of the Crusades. The Pope doesn’t need a large-scale army anymore.”

The Vatican had indeed gone through many changes throughout its history. Before the Swiss Guard even came into existence, the Papacy had other concerns. Chief among them was the Crusades.

Around 1095, the Papal States were still battling for control of Rome. The Byzantine Empire still existed, but like the old Western Empire, it was a shadow of its former self. Turks had even threatened the former Christian stronghold of Jerusalem. Seeing this, Pope Urban had sought help from his followers. He urged Christian soldiers to take up arms in the name of the Lord. He also asked them to march on Jerusalem.

The Crusades lasted over several generations and many Popes. It wasn’t until around the time of the enlistment of the Swiss Guard that the Papacy was no longer at odds with the Turks and the Byzantine Empire no longer posed a threat to Rome.

“Let’s see Sistine Chapel,” offered father.

They made their way inside the Chapel, which was packed with people. Still, Sofia enjoyed the many museum housed within the chapel. From statues to sculptures to paintings, all forms of art were represented. It was almost too much to take in.

Sofia looked skyward.

There was also the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. Painted in fresco, it featured some of the world’s greatest works, including the famous outstretched hand of Adam reaching out for the “Hand of God”.

“At long last!” proclaimed Sofia, “I’ve visited all of Italy’s famous places.”

“All of Italy’s famous places?” asked mother.

“Not by a long shot,” said father.

“What else is there?”

“You haven’t even been to my birthplace in Milan,” said mother.

“Or mine in Florence,” said father.

“I guess there are still other places to go.”

As they headed home, the thoughts of brace new adventures danced in Sofia’s head. She had heard the tales of both of her parents’ hometowns, but she had never been to either. Just like the Vatican City, she wondered if Milan or Florence would be as exciting as Naples, Venice, or Vatican City.

She could hardly wait to find out.

.

09 - End of the Road

Before lunch even had a chance to settle in everyone’s bellies, Signora Angelino made an announcement.

“I’d love to enjoy the warm sea breezes all afternoon. Unfortunately, I didn’t come to Venice to sunbathe. I have work to do.”

“Where are you going, Aunt Frannie?”

“I’m going to visit a dressmaker in San Marco.”

“I could take you,” said Uncle Gio.

“Thank you, dear brother, but I can walk.”

“Nonsense, Fran,” spouted Uncle Gio, “The bridges and walkways of Venice form a complicated maze. Let me take you.”

“How do you suppose you’ll take me?”

Uncle Gio pointed to his motorboat.

“I can’t take a boat. This is a very important client and my hair will get mussed if I ride in that thing.”

“You know this is the best way to travel in Venice. I promise to be careful.”

“Alright, Gio.”

“Can we go, too?” asked Sofia.

Her mother agreed, so Uncle Gio took everyone for a slow cruise around the island. Warehouses sat along the outer rim, decorated with cargo ships and dockworkers. The familiar tower or San Marco, Saint Mark’s Campanile, and the dome of the basilica rose over the skyline. Once the boat turned the corner, the work-a-day warehouses disappeared, only to be replaced by the stately palatial manors that lined the interior canals.

“I can’t imagine living here,” said Sofia.

“I can’t imagine living any place else,” said cousin Val.

“Each one of these palaces was once home to a wealthy merchant,” said Frannie.

Sofia wondered at the decorative building façades.

“It’s so different from home,” she said.

“Venice is a wonderful blend of many cultures,” explained Signora Angelino.

“See the windows with their onion-shaped arches? That’s part of the influence from North Africa, like the mosques of Morocco and Tunisia. Do you see the intricate lace patterns in the woodwork separating each window? That’s from Byzantium and the east. And you know the Roman columns that separate each arch and the plain square terraces separating each floor. That’s just like Rome.”

“It must’ve been an easy life,” said Sofia.

“It wasn’t easy at all,” said her mother.

“I know, but…”

“No buts about it. As merchants accumulated wealth, they had to protect it. They developed a great naval fleet. Venetian shipbuilders had to follow very strict guidelines. Every ship built for trade was constructed so it could be changed into a warship at a moment’s notice. It was a matter of survival for the Venetians.”

“If there was so much trouble, how were they able to keep palaces as beautiful as this?”

“The Venetian Navy protected the trade routes throughout the Mediterranean. Venetians also built fortresses all along the Adriatic coast. And these expanded the territory of the Venetian Republic.”

“There were still problems,” said Aunt Christa, “back then, merchants sometimes had to travel halfway around the world, just to get the things they wanted.

They traveled in large groups called caravans to protect themselves from pirates and thieves. They also found rest stops along the way called caravanserais. That’s where they could get rest and nourishment. As the caravanserais developed, they also provided gear for the caravans. ”

“Like Marco Polo,” said Aunt Frannie, “he traveled along the Silk Road from Italy to China.”

“What’s the Silk Road?”

“Merchants use the Silk Road to travel between Europe and Asia during the Age of Exploration. Ever since the days of the Roman Empire, European merchants brought exotic spices and fine silks from eastern Asia. The Silk Road was the best because most of the merchants relied upon it.”

“But the Silk Road wasn’t just one road,” added Aunt Christa.

“I was getting to that,” said Aunt Frannie, “The Silk Road was a complex set of routes, traveling across the steppe, through the deserts, and over the mountain passes. It also ran along the coasts of Arabia, India and China.”

“The merchants were looking for any way to get silk from one part of the world to the other,” said Uncle Gio.

“When Marco Polo traveled with his father and uncle, he encountered new worlds many Europeans could never imagine. Up to that time, they envisioned all people from the Orient just like Attila and the Huns. They were very wrong. In fact, the whole world was very different what they had imagined.

First, they sailed through the Mediterranean, arriving in Israel. They went north into Anatolia (today’s Turkey) and crossed the land bridge into Asia. Scaling the rugged mountainsides and crossing rocky terrain, they found themselves in Persia. It’s now called Iran.

They traveled through the Zagros Mountains. It was cold and dark and lonely in the middle of the night. A small caravan of five – the Polos and the two friars who accompanied them – traveled alone through the mountain wilderness. Marco described it as so desolate that he imagined conversations with the spirits of the night.

When they escaped the harshness of the Zagros, the desert lay before them. They purchased camels from the caravanserai and made their way east and north through the desert. By day, the desert was as hot as a torch. By night, it was colder than our coldest days. They crossed the valleys of Uzbekistan, Afghanistan, Mongolia and China. When they reached the eastern end of the Silk Road, they ran into the leader of Mongol hordes of the great Emperor Kublai Khan.”

“That’s all storytelling,” said Uncle Gio.

“Pish-tosh,” scoffed Aunt Frannie.

“What do you mean, Uncle Gio?”

“People don’t even know if the stories of Marco Polo were fact or fiction. The books were called “Il Milione”, but many think it means ‘the million lies’.

“It can’t be lies,” interrupted cousin Val, “we learn about it in history class.”

“Not all of it,” said Frannie, “but some wonder if he ever met Kublai Khan. In his book, he claims not to just met him, but to be a member of his royal court.”

“What do you think, Aunt Frannie?”

“I’m not sure. When Marco Polo returned from his travels, Venice was involved in the Italian Wars with neighboring Genoa. Marco was imprisoned. He told his stories to another prisoner, who also happened to be a writer. The collection of stories is often fanciful, but there is no proof one way or another. Still, historians debate the truth of it. Those who relive the journey find all his claims, no matter how bold, as pure truth.”

“It must be marvelous to travel the world,” said Val.

“Marco Polo’s stories were marvelous,” said Frannie, “Imagine telling the tales of mountain sherpas and far-off caravanserai peddling exotic wares from Indonesia and China and Turkey. Back then, they did not have televisions or radios. Even the newspaper wasn’t a daily event. People told tales by campfires or during small gatherings, like the local pub, after church services, or while taking a walk with a friend.”

“It was a different time,” agreed Aunt Christa.

Uncle Gio pulled up to the sidewalk next to the dressmaker’s shop. Cousin Val jumped out onto the sidewalk. Her father threw her the boat line and she hitched it to the mooring post.

“We’ll take Sofia on a gondola ride,” said Uncle Gio.

“I won’t be long at all. Couldn’t you wait for me?”

“Sure thing, sis. We’ll go see the basilica.”

While Aunt Frannie disappeared into the dressmaker’s shop, Uncle Gio led the way into St. Mark’s Square. They crossed through a walkway that led beneath the building

It was a large, open-air plaza with large buildings facing inward from all four sides. The Doges’ Palace guarded three sides. The Basilica stood at the opposite end. Sofia wondered at its opulence.

“Is this basilica from the east, too?”

“It was originally based on a church in Constantinople, but it’s gone through many changes. Now, it looks like the intricately designed mosques of the Middle East.”

“It’s based on Arabian mosques,” interrupted Aunt Frannie, “but it also includes elements of architecture styles from the Gothic Age and Late Antiquity.”

“That was quick,” said Uncle Gio.

“I told you it wouldn’t be long, now let’s find a gondola and take that boat ride I promised my dear Sofia.”

Uncle Gio gave a whistle to a gondolier and in short order the entire group boarded the vessel. It’s long prow curled like an ancient Viking ship. The gondolier helped everyone in, one-by-one and stood on the oarsman’s deck at the rear of the gondola.

He rowed with a single paddle, singing Italian songs and pointing out the sights along the way.

“This is where Marco Polo once lived,” he said.

“And this is the part of the Grand Canal where I won the Regatta two years running with my friend Luigi.”

“What’s the Regatta?” asked Sofia.

“What’s the Regatta?” said the oarsman, “Why, it’s only the most important race in Venice. Every September; teams of two or four or eight race through the canal. Me and Luigi – we are the best.”

Sofia wondered at the thought of tens of gondoliers standing shoulder-to-shoulder, paddling fiercely as they raced through the Grand Canal, which was Grand, but still very narrow, especially for boat racing.

“It must be quite a sight,” she said.

“It is the most marvelous sight in the world.”

Sofia looked down at the oar as the gondolier as he feathered it through the water. He swept it to one side with a long J-stroke. The boat turned gently, edging its way to the place where they started their trip. Waves lapped at the side of the little boat as he steered it toward the sidewalk. Sofia looked up at the gondolier. A long shadow fell over his face. In fact, the shadows had crept up the walls of the palaces, tinting everything in a gentle yellow glow.

“That is all for now,” he said.

“Oh,” said Sofia.

“Maybe you can come back and see me win this year’s race.”

“Mama?”

“We’ll see…”

The gondolier placed a foot on firm ground as he assisted everyone off the gondola. As they returned to Uncle Gio’s house, Sofia stared dreamily at the palaces looming overhead.

“I think you’re both right and wrong, cousin.”

“About?”

“I see how you wouldn’t want to live anywhere else, but didn’t you like Rome last time you visited?”

“I guess, but I was only there for two days.”

“Maybe you should visit again.”

“Maybe,” said Valentina.

As the sun disappeared over the horizon, Sofia and her mother retrieved their bags. Unfortunately, it was time to return home.

“Ciao, mio caro,” said Uncle Gio as he planted a small kiss upon her forehead. Sofia smiled. She thought of her baptism, when the priests said a blessing in Latin and pressed their hands to her head.

On the way home, Sofia leaned her head in the crevice between the cushion of her headrest and the window. One was warm and one was cool.

Her head swam in thoughts of gondola races and boat rides to places far from home. Still, she was anxious to be back home to Rome.

The buildings appeared in the distance as the train neared Roma Terminal. The duomo popped out over the skyline, its head cast in shadows of the brilliant sunset. Sofia smiled again.

Rome.

Sweet Rome.

.

08 - Dukes and Bishops and Kings

The clatter of silverware on china was the perfect background noise for a lively conversation at Uncle Gio’s dinner table. Sofia quietly ate her meal while her Uncle continued talking about something that he called ‘no big deal.’

“Like I said, your Aunt Lisabetta isn’t a true Lombardo.”

“Wait,” interrupted Aunt Christa, “If Lisabetta isn’t a true Lombado, does that mean I am not a true Lombardo, either?”

“Well…no,” stammered Uncle Gio.

“No I’m not or No I am?”

‘You are a true Lombardo,” interrupted Frannie, “just like I am both a true Lombardo and a true Angelino and Aunt Lisabetta is a true Lombardo, too.”

“Am I a true Lombardo?” asked cousin Valentina.

“Of course you are.”

“What if I marry a boy who isn’t a true Lombardo?”

“We are all true Lombardos.”

“How can that be?”

Uncle Gio heaved a sigh as Signora Angelino placed her napkin upon her plate and moved her chair from the table. Aunt Frannie was ready to be heard once again.

“The Lombardos began in the days when Venice was just being built and the Roman Empire had just crumbled. Rome was no longer the capital. The Empire had been torn into two and moved East. The Western half dissolved and the Eastern half had officially moved out of Italy and into Byzantium. Italy was left in the hands of the Ostrogoths.

Justinian the Great, who ruled the Byzantine Empire, had been born in Constantinople. However, he wasn’t the son of a king or even a nobleman. He was a nephew of Emperor Justin, his nipote.”

“Just like me, said cousin Valentina.

“And me too,” said Sofia as she pointed to her Aunt and Uncle.

“Even Emperor Justin, who was the grandson of Emperor Anastasius, wasn’t a true Emperor. Anastasius was once a court official who simply married the widowed Empress Ariadne.”

“I wish I could marry a King,” said Valentina dreamily.

“There are no kings in Italy now,” said Aunt Frannie.

“Yes, but there are Kings in other places.”

“For now, you’ll just have to be my nipote,” said Aunt Frannie, “Italy is no longer decided by who are related to, but who will vote for you. The president runs the Republic just like the days of Julius Caesar, when a group of elected officials, like the Senate, who oversee the day-to-day operations.”

“Maybe I could marry a Senator…”

“Val, let your auntie get back to her story,” said Aunt Christa.

“Justinian was looking for assistance from anywhere he could find it,. At the same time, the last of the infamous Germanic tribes crossed the Danube. They were the Longobardi.”

“The Longobardi? Is that us?” asked cousin Valentina.

Aunt Frannie nodded.

“It was the end of the migration period, when barbarians moved throughout Europe. It was also the beginning of the Gothic Wars. Justinian hired the Longobardi to help defeat invading tribes.

After the Longobardi defeated the enemies of Justinian, they traveled west and south, ransacking the Ostrogoth capital in Ravenna. After they defeated the Goths, they moved back to their homeland, but found another Germanic people in their territory. The Longobardi defeated them, too. In the meantime, Ravenna was reclaimed by the Byzantine Empire. Justinian hoped he could reclaim the Roman Empire’s ancient glory.”

“I bet he was successful.”

“I’m sorry, Val, but he wasn’t successful.”

“Then how did we become Italian?”

“Italy isn’t just about the Empire. There is much more to it than that.”

“Like?”

“Like the Dark Ages. As the Longobardi entered the Italian countryside, it was being devastated by famine and plague. People lived wretchedly, watching friends and family fall ill. One out of three Italians died during this time. It was called ‘The Plague of Justinian.’ Those who survived had to face the Longobardi, who weren’t only armed for war, but in near-perfect health. The Longobardi quickly overran Italy, too.

King Alboin and the Longobardi, however, did not control all of Italy. Popes and Bishops ruled loosely over a narrow strip in central Italy, including the strongholds of Rome and Ravenna. With the Longobardi Empire cut into two halves, King Alboin appointed his best officers as Dukes in the southern half of the boot.”

“Dukes ruled over smaller plots of land, called Duchys,” added Uncle Gio, “Venice was a Duchy. The Doges Palace is where our Duke lived in those days.”

“That’s not entirely true, brother,” said Aunt Frannie, “Dukes were given their title by Kings of Popes and were often nobieman. The Doge of Venice was selected by the people..”

Signora Angelino continued, “Even Rome had become a small duchy kingdom. Without a true Italian king, many people turned to religion and the Roman Catholic Church.”

“What could the Church do?”

“In those days, the church offered sanctuary. Through donations made by churchgoers, churches and monasteries were well fortified against Barbarian attacks.

In fact, Pope Gregory even sold off papal lands to help feed the people of his church. For this, he was called a true pastoral pope – and was later declared a Saint by the Catholic Church.

As the Middle Ages passed, people relied more and more on the church. When the Papacy couldn’t get help from the Byzantines, they looked to the Frankish Kingdom in France. Pepin the Short, who was their king, defeated the Longobardi in northern Italy. He also made the “Donation of Pepin”, handing the conquered parts of northern Italy to the church.”

“Why did he do that?”

“After Constantine’s rule, kings and emperors relied on their Christian faith to acquire great armies of followers. Throughout the Middle Ages, churches and kingdoms had a strange but workable co-existence. In fact, when King Charles of France helped remove the last of the Longobaardi from power in Italy, Pope Leo III crowned him King of the Roman Empire.”

“However,” added Uncle Gio, “historians called the reign of Charles, ‘The Holy Roman Empire’ to distinguish it from the old Roman Empire. King Charles later became known as Charlemagne the Great. After he created the Holy Roman Empire, he united central Europe and brought it out of the Dark Ages.”

“Not only that, but while he ruled over the Northern part of Italy, he left Rome and the Papal States intact. This formed the foundation for the Italian Renaissance. This was also the time when Venice became a center of Mediterranean commerce and cities like Rome and Milan found a period of renewal, too.”

Signora Angelino and Aunt Christa cleared the table as soon as everyone finished eating.

“Let’s go outside and take a short rest.”

Uncle Gio had lined up a row of chairs along the sidewalk just outside the front door. Sofia joined her relatives there. Unlike the dinner table, it was relatively quiet. Squawking seagulls and the low hum of motorboat engines provided the new set of background sounds. Uncle Gio inhaled and exhaled deeply. Sofia mimicked him. The air was fresh and clean. The sky, clear and blue. A small square island sat just on the other side of the harbor.

“What is that?” asked Sofia.

“It’s San Michele,” said Uncle Gio, “it’s our Cemetery.”

Sofia tapped a finger gently on her lip as she pondered it. It was weird to think of a special cemetery island.

“Sometimes, it is difficult living on an island,” said Aunt Christa, “everything is compacted into this tiny space, but we’ve come to manage everything.”

Sofia nodded affirmatively.

“Still, we don’t mind traveling off the island for the finer things in life.”

“I think all the finest things are right here,” said Uncle Gio.

Sofia reclined in her chair, placing her head on the wall behind her. It was warm and comforting.

It seemed just perfect.

“What more could anyone want?” she asked herself.

The answer to that question would come as soon as they returned to the Grand Canal. For now, however, Sofia simply soaked up the sun and dreamt of Royal Venice.

.

07 - Any Safe Harbor

Since Sofia had gone to bed quite early the previous night, she was up bright and early the next morning, too. The day, however, was not yet bright; gray-blue light bounced over the waves of the Adriatic Sea as she peered out her bedroom window.

She was first to get out of bed, too. She waited on the couch for someone to waken. When they did not, she scribbled a note and left it on the dining room table.

5 A.M.

Nobody’s awake. Went for a short walk. Be back soon.

- Sofie

First thing, she slipped into comfortable clothes and slipped out the front door. The screen door banged gently as she stepped outside.

It was quiet except the sound of chirping birds and waves crashing on the shore. Sofia walked through the city for a short bit, then took the small dirt path around the house. The rocky cliffs leading down toward the beach were covered with thistles and weeds. Sofia quickly and carefully navigated over the rocks to the edge of the sand. She found a flat black rock and wiped it clean with her hand. Then, she sat down, brining her knees to her chest.

This was different than Rome, too. It was much more serene. The rocky cliff where Uncle Paolo’s house sat seemed to be free of all the noises and commotion of Rome. Seagulls running along the shoreline were the only things obstructing the tiny piece of quiet shoreline.

Soft orchestral notes cascaded down the cliff wall.

“Uncle Paolo must be awake,” thought Sofia.

She turned about and climbed the rocky ledge. Sure enough, Uncle Paolo was sitting in his chair on the back patio.

“Buongiorno, mio caro!”

“Buongiorno, Zio Paolo.”

She sat in the chair next to him and enjoyed the sounds of man and nature colliding comfortably in her ear.

Soon, the morning was filled with other noises, too, like cars and motorcycles and boats along the shore. There were also inside noises. Aunt Lisabetta rose from bed to make breakfast while Signora Angelino was first to take her morning shower.

The smell of breakfast quickly overtook the smell of fresh flower blooms. Aunt Lisabetta was preparing an old Italian favorite: frittatas.

She fried red peppers, potatoes, and bacon together in a skillet. Then, she chopped them finely. She then commenced with making her frittatas, frying eggs and mixing in the chopped, fried vegetables.

Soon, the sound of the cappuccino machine replaced the sound of Aunt Lisabetta’s cooking.

“Mother must be up!”

Sure enough, Sofia’s mother was standing next to Aunt Lisabetta brewing shots of espresso. She poured each serving into a tiny espresso cup called a demitasse.

“Would you like a cup of hot milk?”

“Only if it’s chocolate milk.”

“Coming right up!” said her mother.

When Aunt Lisabetta finished, they gathered on the patio deck for breakfast.

“Are you ready for your trip to Venice?” asked Aunt Lisabetta.

Sofia nodded.

“Have you been there?”

Sofia shook her head.

“It’s the city of canals, you know.”

Sofia nodded.

“Mio caro,” scolded Signora Angelino, “take the time to talk with your Zia.”

“I was just thinking,” said Sofia.

“About?”

“This fritatta is the best I’ve ever had.”

“Yes, but meal time is also chat time.”

Sofia nodded.

“Va bene, mio caro.”

It was okay with Aunt Lisabetta and Sofia knew that. Her Auntie loved to cook. Sofia loved to eat. Sofia didn’t know which one of her relatives cooking she liked better – Aunt Lisabetta in Ravenna or Uncle Gio in Venice. Luckily, she would get to eat the cooking of both in a very short period of time.

“Tell your Uncle Gio this is the best frittata ever and I’m sure he’ll be cooking them morning, noon, and night trying to make something better.

“I hope so,” said Sofia with a great big smile.

Signora Angelino sighed as she looked at her watch.

“It’s already time to go,” she said.

“Maybe you can come back some other time,” said Uncle Paolo.

“Maybe,” replied Sofia.

Uncle Paolo returned his sister and niece to the train ternminal where he picked them up less than a day earlier. Everyone kissed everyone’s cheeks and said “Ciao, mio caro” and “fino alla prossima tempo”.

“Goodbye, my dear,” said Uncle Paolo, “Until next time.”

“Soon, I hope!”

Sofia kissed her uncle on the cheek one last time. Then, they were on their way.

Venizia – also known as Venice – included a group of over one-hundred islands sitting just off the shore of Italy’s northeast coast. It would be a short trip from one terminal to the other. Still, it was a far cry between these two points, as Sofia would soon find out.

The train barely got up to speed before it slowed again. It approached a bridge leading across a small lagoon. Buildings gathered along the coast, staring towards the train. They also passed a row of posts, sets of old tree trunks tied together and sunk into the marsh.

“What are those posts?” asked Sofia.

“Those posts are called pilings. They were originally placed there to build the island. They were driven deep into the ground and marble was laid on top of them. Then, the founders of Venice constructed their buildings on top of the marble foundations.”

As the train headed into the terminal, it passed next to canals leading into the heart of the city.

As they disembarked, a row of waterbusses, known as Vaporetti, waited at the other side.

“Buongiorno, Signora e Signorina” said the boat’s captain.

“Buongiorno,” replied Sofia.

Before she could say another word, the porter grabbed her bags and stowed them away. Sofia’s mother handed the porter two tickets and hopped aboard.

The boat rumbled to life as soon as it filled with passengers. The Vaporetto passed schooners, sailboats, and small motorboats as it skipped across the choppy waves. As it crossed the inlet, traffic grew thicker.

“Everybody is driving boats,” said Sofia.

“Of course,” said her mother, “this is the city of canals.”

“What?” asked Sofia.

“I said, it’s the city of canals!”

The wind whipped through the Vaporetto’s cabin, making it hard to hear, so Sofia simply waited until they arrived safely at the other side of the canal. Along the way, they passed the bell tower at St. Marks and the San Marco Basilica that it stood beside. As they entered the Grand Canal, the boat slowed considerably.

“What did you say?” she asked her mother.

“It’s the city of canals.”

“Yes, I see.”

In the Grand Canal, the traffic was much heavier and included Gondolas, the famous Italian canal-canoes piloted by single rowers clad in black-and-white striped shirts, red scarves, and brimmed straw hats.

“Can we ride a gondola?”

“We’ll see,” said mother.

As they passed under a bridge, a voice called out from a canal-side café. It was Uncle Giuseppe – Joseph. Aunt Frannie and her brothers simply called him Gio.

“Mio caro Francesca!”

“Gio!”

The Vaporetto idled up to the dock beside the Rialto, Venizia’s most famous bridge. Uncle Gio rushed out to greet them and helped the porter unload their luggage. Then, he led them down a back alley.

“You hungry?” he asked.

“I’m famished,” said Sofia.

“Me too,” added her mother.

“Then I will get something from the Fish Market.”

The Rialto Fish Market sat behind the buildings facing the Grand Canal. Uncle Gio picked out a couple of brown crabs and paid the cashier a few Euros. The cashier wrapped the crabs in a plastic bag and gave Uncle Gio his change.

They walked through the back alleys, until they emerged on the other side of the islet.

“Here we are.”

Sofia parked her luggage inside the front door and turned about to face the Adriatic Sea. Waves lapped along the retaining wall below the sidewalk. Seagulls floated overhead as they rode wind currents.

“Come inside,” said her mother, “They won’t leave if they think you’re going to feed them.”

Sofia’s cousin Valentina greeted them at the door.

“Sofie! Venga! Entrare, per favore!”

While Uncle Gio, a famous Venetian chef, prepared the crabs for dinner, Sofia took her things to cousin Val’s room. Afterwards, the girls joined Aunt Christa and Aunt Frannie in the living room.

“I’d love it if my husband cooked,” said Signora Angelino.

“I’d love it if my husband let me cook. He never stops being a chef.”

“What is your work?” asked Sofia.

“Normally, I manage the Fish Market. I decide what our buyers want and place orders with the fishermen.”

“Is everything in Venice about fish?” asked Sofia.

“Not everything, but you have to remember we’re on an island. We still have small gardens and fruit trees. There are also farmer’s markets near the town square.”

“That must be hard.”

“The people of Venice have been doing it that way for 1500 years. Most Venetians came from cities like Ravenna or Verona when Attila the Hun attacked Northern Italy.”

“The Huns came to Venice?”

Signora Angelino shook her head.

“Imagine Venice 1500 years ago: a marshy swamp crawled with the most evil beasts. The people of Ravenna and Verona were farmers who had no use for the land before the Huns. When the Huns invaded, they had no choice but to flee for the safety of the lagoon.

They knew the Huns always fought on horseback. If the Huns attacked Venice, they’d have to leave their horses on dry land.”

Just then, Uncle Gio poked his head through the kitchen door.

“Who’s ready to eat?”

Everyone enthusiastically raised their hands.

“Then let’s eat..”

“Uncle Gio, are we eating fritatta for lunch?”

“No, we’re having Linguine alla Pesce.”

“That’s good. We had fritatta for breakfast at Aunt Lisabetta’s house.

“Ah,” said Uncle Gio, “I bet she told you she makes the best fritatta., right?”

Sofia nodded.

“Well, she can make scrambled eggs, but she can’t make a pasta dish like my Linguine.”

Signora Angelino heaved a sigh.

“I am the only classically trained chef in this family. In fact, she’s not even a true Lombardo. She married into this family.”

“See what you’ve done, Sofia? You’ve got your Uncle started.”

“It is not a big deal,” said Uncle Gio, “come, come. Let’s eat a classic Italian meal.”

They joined hands at the dining room table without further discussion as Uncle Gio cleared his throat and led everyone in the Lord’s Prayer.

Then, he piled large portions onto everyone’s plate, whether they wanted it or not. For Sofia, it didn’t matter, because family was gathered at the dinner table and that was good enough for her.

.

06 - Winds of Byzantium

As promised, Signora Angelino appeared at Sofia’s bedroom door early in the morning about one week after they returned from the trip to Napoli.

“Are your bags packed?”

“Of course.”

“Then let’s get going.”

Sofia’s father took them to the train station. From the exterior, it did not look much like a train station at all. Glass windows extended from ground to roof of the three-story structure. The bright white glow of fluorescent lights highlighted its contents. People waited in long lines, purchasing tickets and checking their luggage. It wasn’t much different than the Leonardo da Vinci Airport, only a few kilometers away.

“Ciao, papa!”

“Ciao, mio caro,” he said as he kissed her on the cheek.

The entrance said “Roma Termini” in large white letters. The hallway stretched as far as the eye could see. Sofia listened to the click-clack of her wheels as her luggage rolled behind her. The terminal was abuzz with that same sound.

After Signora Angelino purchased two tickets, they grabbed juice and muffins and waited for their train to arrive. Sofia looked for their trip on the toteboard.

“Milano, Firenze, Pisa, Torino…Venizia.”

Signora Angelino had a surprise for Sofia. She handed Sofia her ticket. It said ‘Arrive: Ravenna.’

“First, we’re going to Ravenna to see Uncle Paolo.”

“What about Venice?”

“Venice will wait. Ravenna is first.”

Sofia looked at the toteboard again. Ravenna was near the bottom of the list. Sofia heaved a sigh and sat beside her mother. The listing for Ravenna crept up the signboard until it was first. Sofia quicklyh went to the gate. A porter took her ticket and bags. Then, he led her to the passenger car. The conductor’s voice came over the speakers as Sofia settled into her seat.

“Questo è Trenitalia viaggio Roma a Ravenna arriva a mezzogiorno.”

It was just after 8 a.m. The trip to Ravenna would arrive at noon. That gave Sofia plenty of time to rest. However, she was too anxious to sleep. She looked out the window as the train pulled away from the station. Visions of Rome slowly rolled by, soon replaced by the Italian countryside.

“It’s hard to imagine this was all part of the Roman Empire. How could one man control all of this?”

“When the Empire was at its peak, it was more than one man could handle. Eventually, the Empire broke into Western and Eastern halves. Two Emperors ruled the land.”

“When did that happen?”

“It didn’t all happen at once. Around three hundred years after Julius Caesar commanded the Roman legions at the Rhine River, the Empire reached into Africa and Asia. Emperors no longer made major conquests. Instead, they fought for control of Rome, ignoring the presence of marauders like the Franks, Goths, Gauls, and Vandals.

As the Emperor Diocletian watched the Empire fall apart. he appointed a high-ranking member of his army as co-emperor. Still, the Roman Empire could not control the marauders on the outside or the Senators on the inside.

Fifty years later in 325 C.E., Constantine the Great moved the capital east, headed for a small desert town set perfectly between Europe, Africa, and Asia. The town was called Byzantium.”

.Where is Byzantium?”

“It’s Istanbul, in Turkey. Before that, it was called Constantinople, after Emperor Constantine.

When Constantine moved the capital, he called it New Rome.Ten years earlier, he had written a law called “The Edict of Milan”. It allowed for religious tolerance. Now, as the Emperor in Byzantium, he proclaimed Christianity as the official religion of the Roman Empire. Catholicism also owed its beginnings to Constantine. He held council in another Turkish town called Nicaea. Bishops gathered to agree on the foundations of both religions, including religious laws and concepts.”

“Did this bring the barbarians under control?”

“Hardly. As this happened, warring tribes fought over the borderlands. Another forty years passed until a group of farmers known as the Goths crossed the Danube. Like the Rhine River had done for Julius Caesar, the Danube marked one of the Empire’s boundaries.

The Goths had been chased by a band of marauders called the Hungs. They thought they were free of troubles. Instead, the Romans enslaved the Goths.

Meanwhile, the tribes located throughout Europe and Asia fought over these lands, which include present-day Bulgaria, Serbia, and Hungary.”

Sofia was caught up in the confusion as the train conductor announced the train’s arrival. When the train came to a stop, Sofia and her mother picked up their bags and exited.

“Mio caro nipote!” called a voice.

“Mio caro zio Paolo!”

Sofia and her uncle greeted each other with a hearty ‘my dear niece’ and ‘my dear uncle!’ Uncle Paolo loaded Sofia’s luggage into the car while she hopped into the back seat.

Even though the ride to Uncle Paolo’s house was brief, Sofia still had a chance to see the sights. Unlike Rome and Naples, the buildings of Ravenna were different. Where Rome had marble, Ravenna had bricks. Where Rome had columns, Ravenna had geometric towers – round, square, and even octagonal. The stately square roofs of Rome were replaced by Ravenna’s sloped roofs, just like country villas.

“It’s amazing how a short distance can seem like a world away,” said Sofia.

“It is a world away,” replied Uncle Paolo, “Ravenna faces east, towards Asia. That’s a world away.”

“It’s because of Attila the Hun,” said Sofia proudly.

Uncle Paolo shook his head.

“It was because the glory of Ravenna rested on the shoulders of an Emperor named Justinian. The Empire had struggled with many invaders. Long after Attila disappeared, the Goths and Vandals replaced the Huns. Justinian fought great wars with these other marauders. He re-established the Empire for quite some time. Then, the Black Plague destroyed the entire Roman Empire. In fact, it destroyed the barbarians, too,”

Sofia headed inside Uncle Paolo’s house. Aunt Lisabetta had prepared dinner. It was fish-stuffed Ravioli. Sofia and her mother quickly ate. Then, the adults went to the living room to rest while Sofia looked for something to do.

“What’s wrong?”

“All of your children are grown,” said Sofia.

“That is true,” said Uncle Paolo, “but I do have some toys.”

He rummaged through the old toy chest.

“Here are some cars and trucks.”

Sofia shook her head.

“I have building blocks.”

Sofia heaved a sigh. Unfortunately, there were only toys for boys.

”There aren’t any girl’s toys?”

“Do you like toy trains?”

Sofia remained quiet.

“I suppose not,” said Uncle Paolo, “your cousin Maria has children of her own. How about we sit and listen to music?”

Sofia shrugged her shoulders. Uncle Paolo reached into his record cabinet. He took the old vinyl LP out of the old cardboard sleeve and carefully threaded it onto the carousel.

“An old record?”

“This is how music should be played.”

“Zio...”

Uncle Paolo did not like CDs or Cassettes. He did not even know how an MP3 player worked. Instead, they listened as the speakers crackled with the sound of the record needle in the groove. Then, a loud booming brass sound as an orchestra came to life. Uncle Paolo waved his hands like a music conductor.

“Zio!” she pleaded.

“Paolo,” said Aunt Lisabetta, “this girl does not want to hear your tired old Giuseppe Verdi music.”

“But he’s a master,” said Paolo as his arms continued waving around.

Aunt Lisabetta quickly removed the needle from the album. It scratched as she did.

“Lisabetta!”

“Take her out to see the Piazza. You could use the fresh air.”

“Alright, alright,” said Uncle Paolo as he carefully replaced the album into its sleeve and offered a hand to his niece.

“Diamo da mangiare agli gabbiani,” suggested Paolo.

“Fantastico!” said Sofia.

Finally, something Sofia liked...

Uncle Paolo grabbed an old loaf of bread from the kitchen and tucked it under his arm. He put on his favorite hat and took Sofia by the hand as they walked to the piazza to feed the seagulls.

However, there were no birds in the plaza. There were no people either. Instead, there were only empty buildings.

“We could go in here,” suggested Uncle Paolo.

Sofia crinkled her nose.

“Come on...”

They went, hand-in-hand, into the Basilica San Vitale.

The great duomo was an unorthodox eight-sided octogon. Sofia marvelled at it, but only slightly. It wasn’t until she entered the basilica that she saw the true wonder.

Mosaics covered the interior walls and dome. Tiny chips of glass, pottery, and gold were arranged into pictures from Christ’s life, including the scenes from all parts of the Bible. Additionally, Saint Justinian (the Emperor) adorned several of the walls.

“This is amazing,” said Sofia as she attempted to touch the wall. Uncle Paolo quickly swiped her hand away.

“Ravenna is the city of mosaics. This is 1500-year-old art,” he said, “you must treat it as such.”

Sofia ambled through the cathedral, investigating each and every panel. A hammering sound came from a back room. Uncle Paolo went inside. Sofia followed.

An old man crouched over a half-finished mosaic with rows of bowls to each side. The bowls, filled with chips of differently colored glass, were his paint palette. He carefully picked out the glass chips and glued them into place.

“Scusa, è questo per la basilica?”

“No, questo va in America,” said the old man.

Someone in America had placed an order for his mosaic painting and he would be shipping it there when it was complete.

“Would you like to try?” offered the man.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course.”

The old man applied mortar to the back of the colored glass and handed it to Sofia. Then, he directed her to the spot where he worked. She carefully set it in place. The old man pressed it into place and used a wet rag to clean the surface. He then went back to work.

As it got late, Sofia and her Uncle returned to the house.

“Didn’t you find any birds?” asked Aunt Lisabetta.

Uncle Paolo looked down at his bread bag. He had not even removed the twist-tie.

“Maybe tomorrow,” he said.

“Maybe not,” said Signora Angelino, “We are headed to Venice.”

“Maybe some other time then.”

“It’s okay, mio caro, I had a great time at the Basilica.”

Uncle Paolo returned to his turntable, playing his old records of old classic music, including all the old Italian masters like Pucchi and Verdi. Meanwhile, Sofia retreated to the guest room and put on her own headphones with her own modern music. As daylight faded, she watched the sky change from day to night. She opened her window and let the cool breeze blow off the Adriatic Sea. As she lay back on the bed, she thought about the fresh, clean air.

Then, she just thought about tomorrow. It was sure to be another adventure-filled day.

.

05 - The Power and the Glory

As they passed through downtown Rome and all the ruins within the city, Sofia thought it might be nice if she went on a day trip to see the sights with her mother. She had never been to so many of the places that defined Rome. She’d never been inside Saint Peter’s Basilica or the Circus Maximus, or even the Roman Colosseum.

“I’ve always wanted to visit the Colosseum,” she announced.

“As soon as I find the time,” said mother.

“I’ve never been inside.”

“Never? That’s impossible. I’m sure we’ve been there…”

Signora Angelino had been inside the Colosseum plenty of times. Sofia, however, had not. Sofia thought about the Colosseum for the next several days while she stayed home alone. Although she could not see it in person, it remained in her thoughts.

She spent many days at the nearby playground, looking up at the Colosseum. It poked its giant head over the buildings of Rome, peering directly down at Sofia as she played. It only made Sofia think about her mother’s unfulfilled promise.

On the following Sunday, when her mother finally took her on a trip, it was to the grocery store. The sight of the Colosseum close-up bothered her even more. The large, arching walls of the circular stadium hugged the roadway as they went into and out of town.

On Monday, Signora Angelino drove under the stone arches of the Aqua Claudia – the Claudian Aquaduct – it also reminded her of the Colosseum.

She did not say a word to her mother as she gazed across the way at the Colosseum looming in the distance.

On Tuesday, it was much the same, only Sofia was riding with her father. As they passed the ruins of the Circus Maximus, she cleared her throat.

“Yes, dear?”

“Mama promised to take me to the Colosseum on our way back from Naples, but she still hasn’t kept her promise.”

“You know she’s very busy with her work.”

“I know, but…”

“I’ll make sure she knows you want to go.”

At dinner that night, Signore Angelino cleared his throat much in the same way as Sofia had earlier that day.

“Attenzione, attenzione la mia famiglia,” he started.

Both Sofia and her mother sat their forks down and listened to father.

“My dear daughter has brought it to my attention that she wants to go to the Colosseum.”

“I told her we would go.”

“But, dear Francesca, I think this is one promise you should not set aside for one moment longer.”

Sofia’s mother checked her calendar.

“I have meetings all day tomorrow.”

“You’ll have to cancel them,” said father, “the three of us are going on a lunch date.”

“It is Friday...” said mother.

“Then it is agreed. We will meet at the Colosseum at twelve on the dot.”

Sofia was relieved as she finished eating her dinner. That night, she made special preparations, choosing her favorite dress and patriotic ribbons in red, white, and green.

When the morning came, both of Sofia’s parents were at work. As 11 o’clock chimed on the old living room clock, she took a shower and carefully got ready. It was a quarter ‘til when she sat down upon the living room couch and stared at the front door.

Fifteen minutes later, the clock chimed. There was no sign of either her mother or her father. She immediately picked up the phone and dialed her father.

“Papa?”

“I’m headed home right now! The traffic is very busy.”

“Where is mama?”

“She said she’d meet us there.”

“Okay,” replied Sofia.

“Get ready, my dear, I’ll see you very soon.”

Sofia said her good-bye and waited patiently. She was already ready, so she returned to the couch and waited.

At 12:20, her father’s car appeared at the house. Sofia ran out to meet him and they proceeded towards the Colosseum.

“Shouldn’t we call mama?” suggested Sofia.

“I tried. Her cellphone went straight to voicemail.”

“Oh.”

Signore Angelino parked his car a short distance from the Colosseum. He took Sofia by the hand as they walked down the hill. The crowd thickened as they neared the old stadium.

“Do you tihnk this is what it was like in the days of the Gladiators?”

“I imagine so.”

“I’m very excited,” said Sofia as she withdrew her hand and rubbed the sweat from her palms onto her dress. As she looked up, she saw her mother sitting on a bench outside the old stadium.

“Mama!” exclaimed Sofia.

Vieni qui! Vieni qui!” called Sofia’s mother – Come here! Come here!

Sofia rushed over and joined her mother on the lawn.

“I didn’t think you’d be here!”

“Of course I’m here. I wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

As they walked through the main gate, Sofia looked at the towering outer wall overhead. It was nearly 50 meters high, the same height as a large building. The stairs led to the interior of the Colosseum. Sofia marveled at the enormity of the stadium.

“It must be as big as Stadio Olimpico.”

Sofia was referring to the Olymic Stadium, where the Roman Soccer Club played their games.

“It’s not quite that big,” said her father.

“When it was built in the year 80,” interrupted her mother, “it was the first stadium of its kind. Sports teams did not play in seated stadiums in those days. Even the theatres were built in the shape of a half-circle. The Romans put two theatres together, forming the “Anfiteatro Flavio”, which meant the Flavian Amphitheatre.”

“Why would they put two theatres together?”

“Imagine an army of ships sailing through a lagoon formed righ in the center of the Colosseum.”

“If only that could happen,” said Sofia.

“It did,” said her father. Her mother nodded in agreement.

“Great naval battles performed right here for the Emperors and people of Rome.”

“It seems larger than life.”

“All of the Roman Empire seemed to be larger than life,” said mother, “As the Empire expanded, the Emperors erected monuments and buildings to display the glory of Rome.”

“And their own glory, too,” added father.

“What do you mean?” asked Sofia.

“Think of all the statues and monuments. There’s the Theatre of Pompey. It was built for Pompey, one of Julius Caesar’s contemporaries. Pompey commissioned it for himself. Trajan’s Column and the Forum were built by Trajan to honor himself. Even the Colosseum, which was built by Vespasian, was a monument to Roman glory. He built it right on top of the statue to Nero, Rome’s previous Emperor.”

“And Nero was the one who watched Rome burn,” added mother.

“There is some dispute to that, but the Colosseum was truly a marvel of Roman engineering and ingenuity. It took over 20,000 slaves and 10 years to construct. In fact, it was because of Roman ingenuity that the Colosseum was so great.”

“Your father is talking about concrete,” added mother.

Sofia gave Signora Angelino a puzzled look.

“It was a happy accident,” said her father, “Before that time, buildings were either built with bircks and mortor or stones were simply balanced upon each other, letting their weight keep them stable.

Mortar is a mixture of sand, crushed limestone, and water. When the Romans did not have sand, they substituted crushed stones. The stones helped make the concrete stronger than any building material used before. In fact, it was the magic glue and building block used for the Pantheon. The engineers simply used lighter stones, like pumice, to build the structure of the dome.”

“Aren’t those the same stones that buried Pompeii?”

Her father scratched through the dirt, picking up several small stones.

“Even with this handful of rocks, they are very different. Some are made from limestine, some are sandstone, and some are even pumice.”

“The pumice has holes in it,” said Sofia.

“That’s where the gases were trapped in the molten lava when it cooled. Those empty spaces are what make pumice so light.”

“That’s the true glory of Rome,” said mother, not men clad in armor battling lightly clothed prisoners or men fighting lions. It was the Roman spirit itself. You can see it in every building, old and new.”

Sofia leaned against the concrete wall that made up the balcony rail. After a short while of taking it all in.

“Okay, I’m ready to go,” she stated.

“Already?” asked her father.

Sofia nodded, so they returned home again. As Sofia relaxed in the living room, her father listened to the radio while mother flipped through a few fashion notebooks.

“Wheere are you going next?” Sofia asked her mother.

“I’m taking a trip to Venizia next week.”

Sofia gazed at her mother, unable to speak.

“I suppose you would like to go?”

Sofia nodded excitedly.

“Let me see what I can do,” said mother.

“I can hardly wait!” exclaimed Sofia as she leapt from her spot on the floor and gave her mother a giant hug.

“But I’m not making any promises.”

“I know!” said Sofia.

But Sofia knew when her mother said something like that, it would be a promise she’d keep.

...and Sofia could hardly wait.

.