I Can't Pronounce It, But Scrovegni Chapel Is Stunning

For something I've never heard of until a couple months ago, Scrovegni Chapel is, to both Carol and I, one of the most amazing sights we've ever seen.  It's like an earlier version of the Sistine Chapel.

They tell you when you buy the ticket to get there 20 minutes in advance.  We were so grateful to have tickets after the mess I made of things that we actually did what they said.  But, when we showed up, they told us to come back in 10 minutes.  Okay.

We waited on a bench outside.  Then we went back, and they told us just to wait some more.  Finally, they had us all line up, walk outside near some Roman ruins, and then wait to be let into the anteroom, which has a interesting 15 minute video (with English subtitles, yay!).  It also allows them to even out the humidity levels. 

After the current group's time is up and they leave the chapel, they let us, by now ravenous wolves waiting to get at the frescoes, in.

The son of Reginaldo degli Scrovegni ("Reggie" to his friends) had the chapel built, allegedly because he felt guilt over daddy charging very high interest rates at a time when the Catholic Church said that was a no-no.  Apparently Reggie was so infamous in certain circles that Dante placed degli Scrovegni in one of his levels of hell in some book that became modestly famous.

(Editor: Good one -- "infamous in certain circles" and "levels of hell" into the same sentence, but only obliquely referring to each other.  Writer: Blind squirrel meets acorn.)

Reggie was denied a Christian burial.  His son Enrico had the chapel built to make amends.  After seeing Giotto's frescoes in St. Anthony's, Enrico hired Giotto to decorate the interior.

(Trivia -- "Giotto" means "God's Peace" in Italian, which is pretty cool.)

From Florence, Giotto spent ten years in Padua, creating some of the most vivid art of the early Renaissance.  He lived 69 years, and was considered the top painter of his time.

His work at the Scrovegni Chapel is considered one of the supreme masterpieces of the early Renaissance.  And, let me tell you, it lives up to its reputation.  

We entered the long narrow chapel, and were instantly blown away by how impressive it is.  I got goosebumps.  People in the group whispered exclamations of wonder and joy.  

Seeing it at night turned out to be wonderful.  There was no daylight to distract.  Now, my photos didn't turn out as well as I had hoped, but there are still a number of them in the next post that will give you the idea.

The ceiling is a blue starry sky.  The story of Jesus and his family are two higher levels on the two sides, with the lowest (third) level being the virtues on the left, and the other being the vices.

On the left at the top is Jesus's grandparents, Joachim and his wife.  Then there are quite a few about Mary's life, and then the birth and life of Jesus.  Not surprisingly, most of the frescoes are about the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus.

At the very back of the chapel is the striking and massive Last Judgement. 

We had plenty of time to admire and wonder at the frescoes.  Still, when the bell sounded our time was up, it was hard to leave.  Of course, there were still some people waiting with even later tickets than we had.

If you are going to be in northern Italy (Milan, Venice, the Dolomites, Verona, etc.), it is worth going to Padua to see the Scrovegni Chapel.  Just make sure you get tickets well in advance.  We were lucky, but I won't ever make that mistake again!

The Pictures Don't Do It Justice, But Here You Go Anyhow. . .Scrovegni Chapel

I've said it before and I will say it again: "UNESCO means you must go!"

The west wall, with the scene

of the Last Judgement.

A couple of scenes -- above:

the birth of Jesus.  Below, the

Last Supper.  I don't have any

jokes about the Last Supper

here in Padua, but just wait

until we get to Milan.

Another view of the East

Wall and the North Wall.

Some of the Last Judgement, with a

very devilish devil, consuming souls.

The Ascension of Jesus.

The ceiling of starry skies and saints.

The heavenly choir above the apostles.

Demons "welcoming" sinners in a scene

out of Giotto's friend Dante's Inferno. 

Please allow me to introduce myself
I'm a man of wealth and taste
I've been around for a long, long year
Stole many a man's soul and faith
And I was 'round when Jesus Christ
Had his moment of doubt and pain
Made damn sure that Pilate
Washed his hands and sealed his fate

It's amazing all the way around.

Jesus enters Jerusalem on a donkey.

Known as Palm Sunday.  A lot

happened that week.

The betrayal of Christ, aka "The Kiss."

The yellow robe of Judas signifies

envy as he kisses Jesus.

Judas, with a devil on his back

takes his 30 pieces of silver.

It's Always Worth Going To See A Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle

We had dinner reservations for 7:30pm, but obviously that wouldn't work with 8:30 entry tickets, so we walked the mile to the restaurant to see if we could earlier.  Well, turns out it, and most good restaurants in Padua, don't open until 7:30 or 8:00pm.

We wandered around, looking for a place to eat, but the only places open at 6pm were cheap student eats.  Normally that would be fine, but after surviving and advancing in the Scrovegni Chapel ticket tournament, we wanted a good meal.  Didn't happen.

As we were looking, we walked past a church.  A sign on the outside referenced a crucifix by Donatello, so we went into Santa Maria dei Servi.  It's a parish church, and has some amazing are.  The gothic entrance is right on the street.  

Finished by 1390 after 18 years of construction, the church is most known for the crucifix Donatello carved out of one huge piece of wood.  There is also a massive Baroque altar (insert obligatory "going for Baroque" reference here), as well as large paintings by Matteo Ghidoni.  (Don't feel bad, I've never heard of Ghidoni either).  After touring the church, we headed back out the door in our quest eat food before 8:00pm.

Dinner was fine.  We found a Tuscan-focused restaurant open in Piazza dei Signori, and had the place to ourselves for most of the time.  Apparently students eat early in Padua, while everyone else eats late.

The Donatello crucifix.

Look at the carved definition of the

muscles of Jesus -- especially his

arms and trunk.

Alas, the Baroque altar photos

did not turn out particularly well.

Just random amazing

architecture in Padua.

One of the old city gates.

Kick Save And A Beauty!

While researching our planned stop in Padua, I came across a stunning UNESCO World Heritage site that I had never heard of before.  Nor had Carol, and she knows a lot about amazing old stuff (including me!).

(Editor: All together now, "UNESCO Means 'You Must Go!'"  Writer: Ah, you bring a smile to my face and a tear to my eye.)

I don't remember how I stumbled across the Scrovegni Chapel, but as soon as I saw information about it, I knew we had to go.  Like the Last Supper in Milan, or the David in Florence, you need to get tickets well in advance or it sells out.  Only 25 people are allowed in the chapel at a time, and they get 15 minutes in the chapel. 

The chapel looks stunning.  And beautiful.  It features approximately 40 frescoes painted between 1303 and 1305 by Giotto, considered the father of the early Renaissance, and most famous for his frescoes in. . .the Scrovegni Chapel!

So I went immediately to the website, and thought I ordered tickets for 10:30am on the day we would be in Padua.  The website is pretty confusing, especially when you get to the "order tickets" part as I couldn't get that to translate from Italian to English.  But I also thought it said, "pick-up tickets" at the ticket office.  Well, it did say that, but apparently I never executed the ticket purchase, as no confirming email ever came.

It wasn't until we arrived at our hotel to leave our bags that I first felt the sickening feeling that I had screwed up and not actually reserved tickets.  The woman checking us in expressed skepticism that we didn't need a QR code or something to actually pick-up the tickets.

The Chapel is, providentially, just around the corner from our hotel.  So we walked over.  Carol was confident I hadn't screwed this up (Spoiler Alert: I DID screw this up.)  I felt the rising panic of having messed up one of the most important parts of the trip, and the nice people at the ticket desk confirmed that I should be panicked.  

They were nice, patiently waiting as I hunted desperately for an email that wasn't there.  They also took my name and checked.  They had me look at my credit card bills to see if there was any information to be gleaned there.  A very nice woman who was a guide took pity on us and gave us some advice, and interceded on our behalf.

Finally, it was clear we had no hope.  But then they threw us a lifeline.

One of the ticketsellers told us to come back at 5pm and go to the desk next door to hers.  There a woman would be giving out the evening tickets, and often had a handful to sell.  So we walked out, down but not out, and I thought of the lyrics by the best Southern rock band of this century, the Drive By Truckers:

"Compelled, but not defeated
Surrender under protest if you must
Compelled, but not defeated"

(Editor: You worked DBT lyrics into a blog post about Padua, Italy?  Writer: Apparently.  Editor: Props to you!)

Fast forward to 4:45 pm.  I was of the opinion it would be better to be standing in line before 5pm.  It turns out there was one couple ahead of us, but they went to the wrong desk.  Did I feel sorry for them for screwing up?  No.  Not in the least.

So we stood in front of the ticket window, Carol and I boxing anyone else out as though we were Dennis Rodman waiting for a rebound, but neither of us were wearing dresses.  The line got longer and longer.  The wait got longer and longer.

Some people in line were probably picking their tickets up, but who knows?  If they already had tickets reserved for between 7 and 9:20pm, why would they need to show up early.  I like to think we were geniuses for getting there ahead of everyone else.

The ticket seller patiently printed out all the pre-ordered tickets for the night.  And then her computer crashed.  She would call tech support, do a few things, and then call tech support again.  After a while, Carol hit the ladies room, whilst I continued to hold my position.  

So, with Carol out of the room, the ticket seller stood up and leaned towards me.  I expected to hear, "no tickets available" or "it won't be working until tomorrow," but instead she said, "I have three for 8:00pm and three for 8:30pm."  

I restrained myself from grabbing her shoulders and giving her a big, wet, sloppy kiss of appreciation.  Not everyone appreciates big, wet, sloppy kisses of appreciation, even though I would.

I bought two for 8:30 as Carol came back.  I did say to the ticket seller, "Don't tell my wife, but I love you."  They both laughed (see, what makes it funny is that Carol WAS there when I said it.  Comedy is 50% the joke, 50% the delivery, and 50% the circumstances).

So, with a new lease on life -- and two tickets to chapel, we walked out triumphantly.  And quickly, so none of the other people realized that the four remaining tickets would be gone shortly after us and then try and beat us up for our tickets. 

In case you think I'm being all drama qween here, it's worth quoting Rick Steves here:

"Unfortunate souls arriving in Padua without a Scrovegni reservation can sometimes buy a same-day ticket, but don't count on it." 

The Aptly-Named Stone Of Shame

After the long walk back to the main part of the city from St. Anthony's Basilica, we figured it was time for lunch, so we headed to the famed Caffe Pedrocchi.

Built 1831, the neoclassical building, served as a key planning location for the unification of Italy.  We sat outside, watching Paduaians wandering by, including some boisterous students from the University of Padua, and enjoy the cafe lifestyle for a while.

I had three cicchetti (Italian tapas, especially popular in the northern regions of Italy), one each of octopus, meatballs in sauce, and Padua hen, which is like a hen, but from Padua.  (I didn't see many pigeons, so who knows what I actually ate!).  Carol had the saffron risotto, which is as tasty as it sounds. 

From there we went to both Piazza delle Erbe and Piazza della Frutta.  The two squares are divided by the 13th century Palazzo della Ragione, which turned out to be pretty cool.

We got to Piazza Frutta as the morning market was closing up.  Between that and the cloudy sky, there wasn't much reason to hang out in the piazza.  

So instead we went up the massive staircase on the Piazza Erbe side of Palazzo Ragione.  The building has a massive upper level called il Salone (the great hall) and once held medieval law courts.  

The loggia facing Piazza Erbe is quite grand, and has exquisite vaulting at the top, original painted in the 1300s (since touched up).  Back then, Padua was one of the approximately 1,217 independent city-states in what became Italy.  (All numbers in that last sentence are WAGs).  Paduaianians were quite wealthy back in the day. (All made up words in that last sentence are made up).

Inside the upper floor (the bottom floor is a market with different shops and bars), there is the great hall -- 265 feet by 90 feet, with 333 frescoes painted in the 15th century.  The frescoes depict the signs of the zodiac, labors of the months, characteristics of people based on their sign, the 12 apostles and various and sundry saints (Google "sundry saints" to see which ones).

(Editor: Stop.  Just stop.  Sundry saints?  How gullible do you think people are?  Writer: My readers are discerning enough to get that I'm joking.)

The hall originally had frescoes painted by Giotto, but they were ruined by fire in 1420.  

The roof is hull-shaped, which, given that there are no columns to hold it up, is a remarkable feat for 1306.  Between the size and age of the building (built in 1306), the place is quite ship-shape.  

(Writer: Get it?  Hull-shaped, ship-shape?  Editor: It's not funny if you have to point the joke out.)

The hall also features one of the best named items I've ever seen -- the "Stone of Shame."  Instead of throwing debtors in prison, or sometimes executing them, St. Anthony came up with this as an alternative.  Debtors would sit upon the stone, give up their possessions, and denounce themselves like an ancient Maoist struggle session before being exiled from the city.

I wonder if the people watching would chant "It's all your fault!" at the debtors?

There is also a giant horse in the hall to reflect the Veneto region's own well-regarded horse breed.

There's also striking views from loggia of Piazza Erbe of arched buildings that line the square, and then it's a short walk to Piazza dei Signori, where we ended up having dinner because of weird, but happy, circumstances.

But we had to be somewhere, and have success, before 5pm or I would have completely botched our trip to Padua.

Piazza Erbe from

the loggia.

The loggia gives an idea of

just how long the Palazzo

della Ragione is.

One can never include too

many winged lions in a blog.

One can never include too

many winged lions in a blog.

il Salone -- the Great Hall.

Because the giant horse

is so far away, it doesn't

look huge in this picture,

but just you wait.

The wonderfully named 

"Stone of Shame"

This gives some idea of the

scope of the frescoes -- and

that's just part of one wall.

The ship-shape hull.

Reminder: no columns!

Reminder: built in 1306!

Apparently Paduaians were on military

time, just like Europeans of today.  I

wonder if their calendars started on

Monday, like European calendars

do now, just to confuse me when

 I'm buying tickets or making dinner

reservations.

Dragons are already cool.  Because

of the elongated body shape, this

dragon is even cooler!

Giant horse.  Tiny people.  Bad lighting.

Pictures of outdoor clocks always

have a place in my blog.

Tony's Place

When we couldn't get into the place we really wanted to go in Padua, we headed for the south side of the city to the Basilica of St. Anthony (more on my failure later, or better yet "moron my failure").

Built in the 1200s and dedicated to Friar Anthony, who was sainted in less than a year after his death, the basilica has a striking red brick facade.  It apparently one of the most important pilgrimage sites to Catholics.  

The church has any number of features, which I would be delighted to show you, but photography is not allowed inside.  As someone who likes taking photos, it always frosts my hide that a handful of places in Europe don't allow photography.  I'm all for not using flash -- I can only think of a handful of pictures out of the thousands I've taken that I wish flash were allowed.  But when plenty of places built in the same timeframe allow photography, only to be told at one random place you can't take photos, well that makes no sense.

(Editor:  Rant over?  Writer: I don't know yet.  Keep reading and we'll see what happens.)

Of course, people were taking iPhone photos, so after a bit I pulled out my iPhone and took some surreptitious photos, and then got bolder and bolder.  The iPhone is no match for my Canon, but at least there is something.

Anyhow, back to the church.  It is famous for having a Donatello crucifix at the altar, a Donatello equestrian statue of a Venetian general, Gattamelata, St. Anthony's tomb, and Tony's tongue.  Yes, I said his tongue.  It has somehow survived despite rest of his body turning to dust. 

By the way, the remarkable thing about the "general on a horse" on a horse is not that his name, Gattamelata, sounds like an Italian Super Tuscan wine, but that is was first life-sized equestrian statue cast from bronze in a thousand years.  

And for our visit, of course, the statue is under wraps, being cleaned or whatever statues have done.  Oh well.

Anthony's tomb is set in a beautiful side chapel with nine marble reliefs that I wish I could have taken photos of (Editor: Still bitter eh.)  

Then you join the line in the original chapel where Tony was first buried (Editor: What, you're on a nickname basis with him? Writer: Hey, I grew up in New Jersey.  Of course I knew kids named Anthony who went by Tony!)

There are beautiful frescos in the original chapel, but the next chapel, the Chapel of the Reliquaries, is the main attraction, especially because of the tongue.  His original wooden coffin is there as well, and his lower jaw, which somehow remained intact with a full set of lower teeth.  His vocal chords also survived intact somehow, but WEREN'T NOTICED UNTIL THE REMAINS WERE EXAMINED IN 1981!  Remember, he died in 1263.  That's 718 years later!

(Editor: Did you really need to put that in ALL CAPS.  Writer: Well, now that you put it that way, yes!)

One of the photos I was allowed

to take.  You know, outdoors.

The famed Magnolia Cloistet.  The magnolia

tree you see part of was planted in 1810.

Not a typical tower

for a basilica.

Chapel of the Reliquaries.  The

thin glass case holds his tongue,

his lower jaw, and his vocal

chords.

Part of the ceiling in the

chapel with Tony's tomb.

The ceiling is from

the 16th century. 

A cherubic face.

One of the dome ceiling.

A "hallway."

Anthony's tongue is in the taller

piece, while his vocal chords

are in the lower part. . .after

being discovered in 1981!

Not his head, just some

random part of a work of art.

Obligatory Cloister selfie.  For our money,

Portugal has the best cloisters, with

Spain in second place, not that you asked.

Padua, I'm Glad I Met Ya

Back during the planning stages of this trip, I knew we were going to Milan (the free hotel was in Milan, so that was automatic) and Venice (the most unique city in the world).  But I also follow a number of Twitter accounts dedicated to showing beautiful architecture, landscapes, history, and travel.

I saw a beautiful photo of Padua, did some quick research, and learned that not only is it in-between Venice and Milan, it’s only 14 minutes from Venice.  The same Twitter-based serendipity led me to add Verona to the list (my Italian geographic awareness is not high) a few days later.  

Getting out of Venice isn’t that easy.  We walked to the water taxi docks near the Doge’s Palace and took a water taxi to the train station.  We decided it was a better option than a vaporetto, because there would not be additional stops in-between the Plaza San Marco and the St. Lucia train station.

For some reason, the website for Trenitalia would not sell us tickets to Padua from St. Lucia station.  Instead I had to buy tickets from Venice Mestre, which, unbeknownst to me, is much harder to get to than the St. Lucia station.  So I resigned myself to buying a pair of tickets for the five minute ride from St. Lucia to Mestre, consoling myself with two facts.

The first is that the added tickets would be dirt cheap.  The second fact is that it’s typical Italian inefficiency that would not let me buy tickets from St. Lucia.  I’m sure there’s a way, but it wasn’t readily apparent whilst I was on the website from Alexandria, VA.

So Carol and I popped into the ticket office to buy the tickets, because we couldn’t make heads nor tails of the automated ticket dispenser.  We met a kind man, told him what we needed.  He took our original tickets, wrote something on one, and then sent us away, no charge.

It was not the last time that day we faced a challenging issue with a website that sells tickets to what we needed.  (Hint to readers: Big-time foreshadowing!) 

Once we got to Padua, it was a nice walk of nearly a mile from the train station to our hotel.  It was too early to check in, but we were able to leave our bags and head off to explore Padua.

This May Be The Best Table At A Restaurant In The World

While planning for our current trip to Northern Italy, this table at Barbacani's came to our attention. It hangs out over a canal next to a footbridge. I prebooked it as soon as I saw it.

Very romantic, watching boats, gondolas, and pedestrians going by, many doing double-takes at Carol and I essentially on the water. If you are going to Venice, this is a must-book (well in advance). Both our meals were excellent.