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Sparkle (1)
Botticelli's Dante
The first time we were in Italy, we decided that we’d take a road trip from where we were staying in Tuscany, spending the majority of the day in Venice, and then drive back to Tuscany through Ravenna, stopping to see Dante’s tomb and have dinner. It was a trip from hell. Dante’s Inferno to be exact.
We got lost making our way into Venice. At the parking garage we got hustled by some version of the mafia. We were waved away from what we thought was the official location by a guy dressed suspiciously like a cop, an Italian cop. A series of less well dressed individuals guided us to a spot. ”Run to the boat or miss it,” we were told. So worried were we that we ran right by the spot for public boat system, the vaporetti, and right onto a boat that one of our helpful “guides” had probably stolen. G. hit his head. Vegan Child was terrified. Then in Saint Marco’s square a pigeon pooped on her. We ate at a not so spectacular cafe. But it was Venice. And so we dealt.
Then we tried to drive to Ravenna. Works. Works. Works. Works meant a bunch of guys standing on the side of the road looking at a pile of dirt. Really. It also meant that what should have been just about an hour long drive, was four hours. Four hours in the tiny car we had rented, sitting in the hot sun, wondering if we’d run out of gas. Four hours of getting hungrier and hungrier. Four hours of having to pee. Four hours of thinking it was just up ahead. Four hours of knowing that it was another two hours from Ravenna to Florence, assuming that there were no works. Four hours of thinking that I hate looking at dead people’s tombs anyway. (All tombs I guess, as living people generally don’t need them.) It was our own private circle of hell. It was the Road to Ravenna circle.
Surely Dante would understand. After all, he was only there because he got exiled from Florence. At the bottom of Dante’s Inferno a frozen lake encases all of the inhabitants. Some of their heads stick up out of the ice. One man is frozen gnawing on another man’s head. Hell is very crowded. In Hell there is ice not fire. This is because all of the love and joy have been sucked out of their souls. Just like me on the way to Ravenna.
The thing is though, Dante’s Paradiso has the same kind of feel. Whereas hell has punishment and purgatory purging, in paradise, there’s a lot of, well, a lot of talking. Contemplating the good would probably be more accurate. But, like the bottom of hell, there’s not a lot of action. In this case it’s because everyones desires have bee filled. It’s like the happiest moment you’ve ever had and you don’t want to change a thing? Any motion would ruin it? Knock the joy right out off it. Like that. Students find Paradiso boring. When we get to that book lots of them express the opinion that they preferred hell. I pretend to be appalled.
But think about it. Everything you want to do is accomplished. Nothing left to do. Just chill. I’m not very good though at chilling. If a movie is too long I start to tap my toes. I get restless really if anything lasts longer than hour. Church especially. Aquinas says that heaven might take some adjustment. Last week on True Blood, Marnie had to finally give up the ghost. Literally. Just as she was about to join hands and start singing Kumbaya, she wailed, “This sucks.” I’m kind of worried that she’s right. That it will suck. That I’ll be bored. Bugging the angels and whatnot.
Kind of presumptuous of me, I guess. Should be more careful of what I wish for.
