I left Venice early yesterday morning to avoid the naval festival that brought the Italian president to town last night (despite the promise of sailors in dress whites, even). I took a regional train to a town north of Venice called Montebelluno, and then a bus to a very small town called Maser. Once again there was the issue of how to figure out exactly when to push the button to request a stop. This time I did ask the driver, who turned out to be of no help; I asked how many stops to Maser and he just said "un bel po'" which means "a good bit", and then even though there were only a handful of people on the bus definitely didn't deign to indicate when we were passing the Maser stop. I mean I know he doesn't have to, but seriously, I just asked you ten minutes ago and am clearly not from around here! But I hit the button and the next stop was mercifully shortly down the road. Plus I passed a sign indicating a place selling local cherries, which I purchased a whole sack of on my way back.
Maser is where Marcantonio and Daniele Barbaro commissioned Andrea Palladio to build first Villa Maser and later the adjacent Tempietto (which is a tiny central-plan church that's like a mini-Pantheon). The villa was frescoed by Paolo Veronese and has stuccoes by Alessandro Vittoria, so basically it's a triumvirate of major artists working in Venice in the second half of the century. It's still a private residence like most of Palladio's villas, so you can only go in the central frescoed rooms. (I caught sight of who I think was the current owner with her many lapdogs on the lawn of one of the side wings). The villa is pretty stunnning and the frescoes are awesome, even if the rooms are smaller than what I'd imagined from illustrations. I was particularly impressed by how light and airy it was, with a good breeze coming in from all the interconnected rooms and passageways. Sadly, its being a private residence also meant you couldn't go onto the grounds, the majestic sloping entryway overlooking the landscape or the nymphaeum in the back. Also, since the terrazzo floors are original, you have to put on these giant slippers and basically glide around, which was super weird!
There's also a carriage museum included in the ticket, in a small subsidiary building hidden up on the hill behind a villa. My grandpa would have loved it, especially the big 16-seater mail coach that apparently traveled at 13 kph. There were more types of carriages than I ever knew existed, from little 'lady's carriages' from France to ones specifically designed for hunting, plus a tiny Sicilian 'goat cart'. Afterward, since there were a couple of hours to kill before another bus would come through, I went to the adjacent winery to do a wine tasting. I learned from past mistakes and brought a book (Emma) this time, so I had something to do. I tasted an awesome Prosecco, a white that was meh, and a good red made from the villa's grapes that was called, of course, Andrea Palladio. I also learned that in Italy they give you chips and not crackers for a tasting, and I shamelessly ate them all. Then I went and got my giant sack of cherries, which are pretty good, and apparently came from a mile away, but she would only sell me a kilo, not a half, so I got to carry them around the rest of the day.
Because of the capricious weather and unreliable meteorology, I've spent a lot of time hauling my umbrella around when I didn't need to. I took it to Padua and Verona and it never rained. Naturally, the time I look at the weather report and see rain maybe in late afternoon so I can leave it at home....nope. It's amazing how one's vim and vigor for adventure can be tamed by cold rain when one a) lacks umbrella and b) sleeves (it was also supposed to be in the upper 70s, but MORE LIES). Thus, when I made it to Bassano del Grappa, home city of the Bassano family of artists, I basically took a few photos of their famous wooden bridge, designed by Palladio, ate lunch, and took a train back to Venice. I mean, I still got home at like 6m after leaving at 8am, so it was a longish day, but I had had a list of things to do in Bassano--the civic museum, the grappa museum, a nature walk along the river--none of which I did, because I was cold, slightly damp, and unenthused by the prospect of walking on more wet cobblestones and trying to keep underneath the side eaves of buildings. It wasn't even raining that hard, it was just the kind of situation where you suddenly want very much to be at home in something comfortable drinking tea. Ironically, Venice was enjoying a beautiful evening of clear skies when I returned, naturally.
Other things I did this week: spent an afternoon talking only in Italian with Marsha, a girl I met at Middlebury who is also a PhD art history student; awkwardly stalked Gino Benzoni in the Correr library while unsuccessfully hoping he'll try to talk to me again; drank prosecco in an outdoor cafe, waiting for Debra Pincus' 5:30 lecture at the Ateneo Veneto, only to discover, at 5:30, that it was actually at the Instituto Veneto, several campi away; got yelled at by a very angry Italian woman for like an entire minute on the train for having put my feet up on the seats; grumbled to myself about how America does basically everything better except for the produce. Also, fine, cheese, but I can't even try the ten thousand kinds of cheeses for sale at the grocery store because they all come pre-cut in these massive wedges, and though I'm sure I could eat that much cheese on my own, I know I should not. It's my good fortune that they were out of feta today because I totally looked for it, good intentions be damned!
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