Bryce & Damon in Europe
by Pertinax Carrus
Chapter 26: Rome Again, Part IV
St. Peter’s Basilica
On their last Sunday in Rome, Bryce and Damon rose to the unwelcome sounds emanating from Bryce’s travel alarm. They had a date to meet Ray and Tony at St. Peter’s, so they could not goof off and tell themselves there would be a later Mass. For reasons he could no longer remember, probably related to that third carafe of wine, Bryce had agreed to a 9:00 Mass this morning. Damon complained vocally, threatening to go to the Capitoline to slaughter a sheep later if Bryce would only let him sleep. Eventually, with the help of multiple cups of the thick Italian espresso, they were awake, dressed, and on their way to the church.
St. Peter’s is a vast space, and one could easily spend hours searching for someone if the only direction was “at St. Peter’s.” Bryce and Ray had agreed the night before to meet at the door to the sacristy and simply follow the first vested priest who emerged. That seemed a simple way to find when a Mass would begin. When they got there, Bryce and Damon found that Tony and Ray were there before them, but not looking much more chipper than they. Like the Americans, Ray had worn good clothes, although not going so far as to don a suit, while Tony was still in jeans, but at least he was not as scruffy as the night before. They greeted each other with comments on the wisdom of getting home earlier, or else selecting a later Mass time. After only a couple of minutes, a priest emerged from the sacristy in Mass vestments, carrying his chalice, paten, &c. in the traditional mode, accompanied by a boy of about ten in cassock and surplice. They followed the two to a side altar, where several dozen people were waiting, and Mass began.
When the priest began Mass, the four of them were surprised that he was speaking a language none of them recognized. Given the harsh sounds with lots of sibilants, Bryce decided it was something Slavic, but that was as close as he could get. The congregation which had been waiting responded in the same language, so they must have been some sort of group traveling together. The outline of the Mass was so familiar that Bryce knew what was going on, even though he understood only a word here and there. The sermon was especially opaque, but blessedly short. At communion time, the same procedures as were familiar from home were followed, with a simple “Amen” a sufficient response, and with Damon’s crossed arms serving to earn him a blessing. At that point, Tony threatened to sit in his seat and not go up for a blessing, but Ray’s doleful look stirred him, and he reluctantly followed along.
When Mass was over, Bryce and Damon were commenting on the language when one of the congregants overheard them and responded in heavily accented English.
“Yes. We are group from Poznan. City in Poland. We are in Roma for week of pilgrimage. And you?”
“We are Americans,” Bryce replied, indicating himself and Damon, “but our friends here are Italian. My friend Damon and I have been in Rome for eight days, now, and will leave on Wednesday.”
“You not know we Polish group when you came to our Missa, right?” the Pole asked.
“Right. We were just looking for any Mass at this time,” Bryce admitted.
“Big surprise,” the Pole laughed.
“Yes, it was. But the Mass is pretty much the same everywhere,” Bryce asserted.
“Not like in the old days,” a much older but more articulate member of the Polish group said, joining the conversation. “You boys don’t know about this. You’re too young. But back before Vatican II when everything was in Latin, it was much more the same everywhere. As a young man, I managed to leave home and make my way to Chicago in America. Along the way, I attended Mass in Czechoslovakia, Austria, and Germany, and everything was the same except the sermon. There are many Polish people in Chicago, but the Mass was the same as at home there, too, so on my first Sunday there I could serve Mass for my cousin the priest.”
Damon jumped in. “You lived in Chicago? I’m from Chicago.”
From that point on, the talk was about Chicago, until Bryce, Tony, and Ray told Damon it was time to move on if they wanted to complete their tour of the interior of St. Peter’s before the noon blessing.
Actually, they had lots of time, but also a lot on the agenda to complete the tour begun by Bryce and Damon the previous Sunday. The major trek this Sunday was a hike up to the lantern atop the dome, sixty-five and a half feet high. Art historians still argue how much the actual dome departs from Michelangelo’s intentions. The exterior shell is more elongated than some of the master’s drawings suggest, but the interior dome is not. Giacomo della Porta, who completed the work in 1590 greatly admired Michelangelo, and most likely carried out what he believed to be the master’s last plans. In any case, as in Florence, one can climb between the inner and outer shells to the top for spectacular views of the surrounding city. They snapped many photographs, with some of them involving clowning around with the setting. This took most of their time and energy.
Returning to earth, they stopped first by the statue of the Apostle Peter in the nave, to the right of the high altar. Again, art historians argue the details, but at least one theory is that Pope Gregory III had it erected in defiance of the Iconoclasm of the Byzantine emperors in the eighth century. A very old tradition is for pilgrims to kiss the toe of the statue, which has been done so frequently over the centuries that the metal foot is worn smooth. Ray and Bryce immediately complied with this tradition. Damon hesitated, then shrugged his shoulders and also kissed the statue’s toe. Tony, however, disdained to follow suit. It may be from this tradition that some Protestants seem to have the idea that Catholics are required to kiss the toe of the pope.
From there, they passed the Perpetual Adoration Chapel, where, just as at St. Boniface in Clifton, or the chapel Damon found at Lourdes, or both guys visited on Montmartre in Paris, the Sacred Species is constantly in view in a monstrance. Nearby was the St. Sebastian Chapel, where an African Cardinal was saying Mass, which interested Damon considerably. Passing by, they came to the last major item Bryce really wanted Damon to see. This is Michelangelo’s statue called the Pietá, located in its own chapel next to the St. Sebastian Chapel on the right by the main entrance. The term ‘pietá’ is a generic one in art, referring to the scene where the body of the dead Christ, taken down from the cross, is laid in the arms of his mother. That by Michelangelo in St. Peter’s is probably the most famous version of this scene. This work was completed in 1499, when Michelangelo was only twenty-four years old. It was his first major piece of sculpture, done for a French abbot and cardinal, and set up in the “old” St. Peter’s. It is also the only one of his works that Michelangelo signed. The story is told that when it was first exhibited critics said it could not have been the work of such a young and then unknown sculptor, so he came back into the church at night and sculpted across the strap across Mary’s chest the words Michaelangelus Bonarotus Florentinus Faciebat, although a few letters seem to have been omitted in his haste. It translates, “Michelangelo Buonarroti, Florentine, made it.”
In 1972 a berserk Hungarian attacked the statue with a geologist’s hammer, inflicting major damage. It took years of painstaking restoration to return the work to its present condition, now protected by bulletproof glass. As Bryce had mentioned elsewhere, there are those who are enemies of the beautiful, but he saw the beautiful as a reflection of God, and another gift of God to humanity.
The four men studied the statue for some time. Finally, Tony said, “It is beautiful, but this cannot be Jesus and Mary. She looks younger than he does.”
“I wonder why Michelangelo did that,” Damon mused. “I mean, even if he was just a little older then us, surely Michelangelo knew that a mother has to be older than her son, and he was not stupid.”
“I have no idea,” Bryce said. “I’m sure some conspiracy theorist has a weird interpretation, just like for Leonardo’s ‘Last Supper,’ but I haven’t run across it yet.”
“I think it’s just because he wanted Our Lady to be as beautiful as he could make her,” Ray said.
“That makes as much sense as anything else,” Damon agreed.
By this time, it was approaching noon. The trek into the dome had taken a good deal of time. So the four young men went outside, where again thousands gathered to hear the message of Pope Benedict.
“I don’t like this pope,” Tony complained.
“I’m not terribly fond of him myself,” Bryce said. “He’s brilliant in some ways, but in others he’s locked in outdated ways of looking at things, and does not seem to be able to free himself of those blinkers.” Then he had to explain the term ‘blinkers’ to his Italian companions. Once he mentioned horses, they both knew what he meant. Narrow, straight ahead, limited vision.
Tony mentioned the stories about his Nazi past. “A lot of nonsense,” Bryce replied. “He was a child at the time, and got out of the Hitler Youth as soon as he could without jeopardizing his family. A lot of left wingers throw the term ‘Nazi’ around irresponsibly, simply meaning anyone who represents authority. But I would like to get the chance to set him straight about us gay Catholics.”
“Oh, no big head on my boyfriend,” Damon guffawed.
Then the screen came to life, and, like last week, there was an image projected from Castel Gandolfo of Pope Benedict with a simple message in several languages, praying the rosary, and then the blessing. Bryce and Ray prayed with him, and even Damon crossed himself, but Tony refused to participate.
Another Lunch in Trastevere
Leaving the Vatican, Bryce offered to treat them all to lunch along the Via della Conciliazione, but Tony protested. As a native Roman, he knew better places at much cheaper prices. So, they allowed him to lead them more or less along the same route Bryce and Damon had taken on Friday, across the Janiculum to Trastevere. There, down a side street, Tony led them to a small restaurant or trattoria, where he entered and greeted the woman presiding near the entrance. They were escorted through the establishment to the open air gardens behind, and to a table for four. She provided menus for three of them, then said something to Tony and departed.
“Why didn’t you get a menu?” Damon asked.
Tony grinned. “Mamma Gianozza said I’ve been here so many time I should have it memorized by now.”
Then Tony and Ray helped their American visitors translate the menu, as there was no English version. Bryce eyed the prices, then checked his wallet. Tony grinned. “Having second thoughts about paying for all of us?”
“Not really,” Bryce protested. “But when I offered, I was expecting to use my credit card. I didn’t see a sticker on the door when we entered, so I guess that’s not an option here. But you’re right. The prices are much cheaper here. I think I can cover the costs, provided you guys don’t go overboard on the wine.”
“Hey, Boyfriend, I have a few Euros in my wallet,” Damon said. “If you need, I can let you have them. It’ll be a unique experience.”
Damon then explained to their friends that Bryce was rich and he was poor, to the considerable embarrassment of Bryce. Neither Tony nor Ray came from money, so they were fascinated to find themselves in the company of that iconic figure, the rich American tourist. They all teased Bryce mercilessly until a young woman appeared and said something in Italian. Tony blushed, and replied, and she went away.
“Mamma Gianozza sent her to tell me that this is not a public piazza, and if all we are going to do is talk, we should move elsewhere,” Tony related, as Ray laughed at him.
“That’s unusual. Almost every place we’ve been, there has been no rush to get finished,” Bryce noted.
“Oh, once we start, there will be no hurry,” Tony said. “She just wants us to get started.”
So, they gave their attention to the menus, and soon had selections for the young woman to take back to the cook. As was only to be expected, a carafe of wine was also ordered, and appeared immediately, with four glasses.
“So, I must thank you,” Ray said once they were settled over their wine. “For many months I have been trying to get Tonio here to attend Mass with me, without success, but you have brought about this miracle.”
Bryce chuckled. “Tony went with us, but I don’t think he has changed his mind about anything.”
“You are right, my friend. I am not a believer today, just as I was not a believer yesterday. There has been no miracle,” Tony stated.
“Are you uncomfortable attending church services?” Bryce asked.
“I do not think ‘uncomfortable’ is the right word. As I said, I am not a believer, so I cannot participate in the services as one who does believe. I am not part of it. Also, I am a poor house painter, not a great artist, like Michelangelo or Caravaggio, whom Damon admires so much.” This caused Damon to blush. “So, I have very little appreciation of the art which you admire so. Consequently, there is nothing for me there. I feel like an outsider, and that annoys me.”
“You have said several times that you are not a believer, Tony. What do you believe in?” Damon asked.
“I believe in what I can see and touch. I believe in Ray, even if we do not think alike. I believe in good food, such as we will enjoy here, and in good wine. I believe in doing a good job. When I work, I am happy. I put one paint together with another paint, and create a color I like, and then I paint a wall, or a whole room. And when I am finished, it looks like I imagined it before I began, and I am happy. And I look around, and there are no blotches or streaks like the idiot Giuseppe leaves behind, even though he thinks he is as good a painter as I am, and then I am happy, too. And I believe in friends, and good wine, and good talk,” Tony repeated.
“That is quite a credo. Listening to you, however, I must disagree. You might say you have no appreciation for art, but when I hear you talk about your job, I hear an artist speaking,” Bryce insisted.
“Yes! I have told him so! But my so stubborn boyfriend does not listen to me,” Ray inserted.
“I definitely think you have an artistic side, Tony, and to me that means you have a spiritual side as well,” Bryce suggested.
“No. I do not believe in the spirits. No god, no angels, no ghosts, no demons, no soul. Just what I can see and taste and touch,” Tony insisted.
They talked more over their meal, which was delicious. Tony continued to insist that he did not believe in anything he could not experience through his senses. “We poor humans are just another kind of animal, and a very destructive kind at that.”
“I cannot argue with the destructive tag,” Bryce conceded, “but I do not think we are just another kind of animal. I think humans are different from all other animals. Not just more of the same thing, but a different kind of creature.”
“Explain this to me, my friend,” Tony invited.
“Well, as you already know, I am a believer, so what I am going to say will not come as a surprise to you, I’m sure,” Bryce began. “I believe that we humans are only partly animal. We consist of an animal body, but an immortal soul, which makes us different in kind, not just in degree, from other animals. What I mean is, it’s not just a matter of a more developed brain or nervous system or something else biological, but something which cannot just evolve which makes us different. I was talking to Damon about this the other day.”
“You were?” Damon asked.
“Sure. Remember, when you asked how big the Vatican is. It’s not just a matter of how much, whether it’s acres, or dollars, or nerve cells, or anything else. It’s what kind that makes the difference,” Bryce reminded him.
“And what evidence do you have, besides your belief, to support this position?” Tony enquired.
“Well, let me explain it this way. The human soul, which I believe is immortal and not a product of evolution, is what allows us to think in abstract thoughts, as distinct from just solving immediate problems, like how to get out next meal. The human soul is what allows us to exercise free will, and make choices, not just react to stimuli. This is the source of all human dignity and worth. Without this, we are just so much biological trash, and there is no such thing as morality or meaning to existence. Without this, we have no more inherent worth than a worm.
“The animal uses his instincts to kill and eat. The human uses his abilities to create a fine meal, like this one we are now enjoying. The animal slakes his thirst at the nearest stream or pond, the human uses his abilities to create something like this wine. The animal seeks shelter from the weather in a cave, the human creates St. Peter’s or the Pazzi Chapel. The animal makes noises to express fear or hunger or danger, the human creates great poetry, like Dante’s Commedia. The animal listens to know where his prey might be hiding, or where danger might be lurking, while the human listens to Bach or Mozart.”
“A fine list, but I’m not convinced,” Tony said.
“That does not surprise me. It would take more than a conversation over dinner to bring about a major change in attitude such as convincing you represents. But there is one more argument which you might want to consider. For the animal, the purpose of sex is reproduction and simple physical pleasure, while for the human, the primary purpose of sex is to express the love of one human for another,” Bryce suggested.
“Ah, now that is something to think about. But your Vatican does not seem to agree with you,” Tony responded.
“I know. That’s where I think the Pope and others are stuck in an outdated mindset. And I think they are stuck there because the Vatican is run by a lot of old celibates. If we want to get our sexuality accepted, we have to work to end the requirement of priestly celibacy,” Bryce stated.
“I’ve never heard you say that before,” Damon said.
“I guess it never came up, and it’s something I only gradually realized. It’s not just gay issues. The Vatican position is screwed up on just about all sexual matters. It’s all part of the same problem. But that does not detract from the fact that we, the believers, are right about so much more, which gives us something to live for beyond what’s right in front of our noses.”
“My friend, I have listened to Ray telling me I should go to church for many months, but I have never heard anyone give me as cogent reasons as you. I am still not convinced that anything exists beyond the material world, but at least there is something to think about in what you say,” Tony declared.
“In that case, I have been more successful than I expected,” Bryce replied. “There are very few examples of immediate conversions, like St. Paul on the road to Damascus. All of us got to where we are over many years, and as a result of many influences and experiences. It only makes sense that it will also take time to change ... in any direction.”
“And what am I supposed to do while my love is changing?” Ray asked.
“You can change, too. We all need to constantly change to keep alive, to keep abreast of what is going on around us. That is growth, and the alternative is death. And for us believers, we can also pray. But, my friend, I urge you not to be a nag. That is a certain way to make your lover get tired of having you around,” Bryce advised.
“Yes, listen to the man,” Tony agreed.
“I have to say, I know Bryce wants me to join him in his beliefs, and we have even joked about it from time to time, but he has never put pressure on me. I appreciate that,” Damon said. “At the same time, I have been asking him some questions as well.”
“And Damon’s questions are not always easy to answer,” Bryce said. “He has forced me to really think about my faith, as well as about other really serious matters, such as my preference for Mozart over jazz,” he added with a smile.
“Now on that, you are definitely wrong,” Damon declared.
“Il papa musico has spoken,” Tony laughed. “And I agree completely.”
From that moment, the conversation centered on music, and the respective merits of jazz and Mozart, and the fact that Damon went to Bryce’s concerts and Bryce went to Damon’s. Tony then mentioned that he knew of several venues for jazz in Rome, and before long Bryce had agreed to call, or have the concierge at the Hotel Cicerone call, about reservations for Tuesday evening. He and Damon were already committed to dinner with Father Long on Monday, and they would be leaving early on Wednesday, and it seemed unlikely that anything would be available as soon as this evening. Tony gave Bryce his contact information, and they agreed to get together, whether or not they could get reservations at the Alexanderplatz, the oldest jazz club in Rome, located not far from the Vatican. Bryce remarked on the fact that the name was in German, to which Tony merely shrugged. That had never occurred to him.
After that, it being now mid-afternoon, the four broke up. Bryce and Damon went back to the Hotel Cicerone, both to change into more casual clothing, and to discuss with the concierge the possibility of dinner reservations for the Alexanderplatz on Tuesday.
The Villa Borghese
At Bryce’s suggestion, they then left for the Villa Borghese. This was easily reached by walking north on the Via Cicerone just a block or two to the Via Cola di Rienzi, then to the right and across the Tiber on the Ponte Margherita to the Piazza del Popolo. This spacious piazza was laid out in the early nineteenth century around a number of existing and familiar monuments, including another obelisk and the Porta del Popolo, once the Flaminian Gate in the Aurelian Walls. Named for the poplars which grace the area, the Porta del Popolo was graced with improvements in 1655 to welcome Queen Christina of Sweden when that only legitimate child of the great Protestant champion, Gustavus Adolphus, arrived in Rome. Having converted to Catholicism, she did not think it appropriate to remain on the throne of the Lutheran realm of Sweden, and so she abdicated, and spent most of her life in Rome. Hers might be an exception to Bryce’s rule that conversions were not purely intellectual. One of the most intelligent women in history, she was a pupil of the French mathematician and philosopher René Descartes.
From the piazza, steps led up the Pincian hill to the entrance to the Villa Borghese. Unlike the Vatican or the Janiculum, the Pincian was one of the ancient seven hills of Rome. Atop it lay the grounds and structures first laid out for Scipione Cardinal Borghese (1577-1633), nephew of Pope Paul V and early patron of the great seventeenth century genius Gian-Lorenzo Bernini. Bryce and Damon wandered casually across the spacious grounds, which make up the second largest park in Rome. It was a very pleasant stroll on a delightful sunny day.
Across the Borghese Gardens they came to the impressive palace, once the residence of the art collecting Cardinal, now the Galleria Borghese, open to the public. Inside, the men went first to the display of the sculptures by Bernini. Gian-Lorenzo Bernini (1598-1680) was the towering multi-talented genius who dominated the artistic life of seventeenth century Rome. Often called the only worthy successor to Michelangelo, he was many things, including architect, sculptor, painter, and even set designer for Roman theater and opera productions. In the gallery, they paused to admire a portrait bust of the Cardinal, and then took in the Apollo and Daphne (1622-25). This complex depiction of the ancient myth, according to which Daphne was turned into a laurel rather than submit to seduction by the god Apollo, clearly indicates both the attention to detail and the love of movement of the seventeenth century Baroque style. Prepared by this work, Bryce then introduced Damon to Bernini’s version of David (1623). Whereas Michelangelo depicted David as great power at rest, Bernini caught him in action. The figure of the young man is twisted as he prepares to sling his stone at the giant Goliath. His face is contorted with intense concentration. It is said that Bernini made faces at himself in his mirror to capture that single-minded focus, and the statue is, in effect, a self-portrait.
“I can see why this guy is admired so much,” Damon said. “I still like Michelangelo’s David better.” With a grin he added, “This one does not give me a hard-on. But anyone who can work marble to make it look like it’s flowing with movement like this has got to be some kind of genius.”
“This is the same person who did the Cathedra Petri in St. Peter’s, and the square in front of the church as well,” Bryce pointed out. “Like the great figures of the Renaissance, he was active in many fields.”
Damon chuckled. “The best today’s artists can do is have an actor try to also make it as a pop singer, or the other way around, and most of them who try are piss-poor.”
“You got that right,” Bryce agreed. “Renaissance and Baroque artists were very intelligent individuals. I have always suspected that most actors and film personalities are not.”
Also in the same part of the museum they viewed the statue by Antonio Canova of Pauline Bonaparte, wife of Prince Camillo Borghese, but more significantly the sister of Napoleon, the statue dating to 1805, when her brother was at the height of his power.
“I’m kind of surprised that a princess would pose almost nude like that,” Damon remarked.
“It fits her,” Bryce responded. “She was rumored to be a nymphomaniac, and whether that is technically true or not, she had a lot of lovers. Oddly enough, she did not get along all that well with either of her husbands, and had only one child, who died young.”
“You never know,” Damon aphorized.
Bryce then led Damon to the picture gallery section of the Borghese. “You’re going to find more of your favorite here,” he predicted.
“What?” Damon asked.
“Oh, come on. Who’s your favorite painter these days?” Bryce teased him.
“You mean they’ve got more Caravaggios here?” an excited Damon asked.
“You bet,” Bryce assured him.
And so they took in at least a half-dozen works by Caravaggio, none of which were quite as beguiling as the ‘St. John the Baptist’ at the Campidoglio, but all of which were interesting. There was another ‘St. John the Baptist,’ and the ‘Boy with a Basket of Fruit’ came close, clearly indicating the fascination of the artist with his young model. But there are also impressive works by Raphael, Titian, Rubens, and others.
“Next semester, I think I’ll take that course in Art History as one of my humanities requirements,” Damon remarked. “I’ve already done all the homework.”
The Piazza Navona
Leaving the Villa Borghese by the gate near the Villa Medici, they found themselves at the Church of Santa Trinità dei Monti, and so descended the Spanish Steps, leaving the Pincian Hill. Rather than dine in the same place as on Thursday, at Bryce’s urging they headed for something new. Through a maze of streets, he led them to the Piazza Navona.
“This piazza is on the site of the ancient Stadium of Domitian. There really were Christian martyrs here, unlike the Colosseum. The most famous is St. Agnes, who died under Diocletian in 304. Although there are conflicting and fantastic legends told about her, the basic fact of martyrdom here in the piazza is pretty well established. The name Agnes means ‘lamb’ in Latin, you know, so she is sometimes called the Lamb of God.”
“And the church here is hers?” Damon surmised.
“Yes. We don’t need to go in, especially as there is a skull there of St. Agnes, and you said you did not want to see any more parts of people. That’s why we skipped a couple of skulls at St. John Lateran. But there is an interesting story told about this church and the fountain in the center of the square. As you figured out, this is the church dedicated to St. Agnes. It’s called Santa Agnese in Agone, but the ‘agony’ in question is not the martyrdom of St. Agnes. This whole site was called that after the Greek word used in connection with athletic contests, and, come to think of it, tragic drama as well. ‘Agone’ meant intense struggle, like the David of Bernini.
“Well, this church was designed by Francesco Borromini, who was Bernini’s chief rival in Rome in the middle years of the seventeenth century. The building next to the church is the Palazzo Pamphili, and a member of that family was Pope Innocent X, who was pope in the 1650's. He favored Borromini, and gave him the commission to do the church. But he kind of gave Bernini a consolation prize, which was to design the fountain in the center of the piazza.”
“I see another obelisk, stolen from Egypt,” Damon remarked.
“Yes, you’re correct.” Bryce smiled at Damon’s protective attitude towards anything Egyptian. “Well, the fountain which is all around that obelisk is called the Fountain of the Four Rivers, representing the four great rivers of the world, the Danube for Europe, the Nile for Africa, the Ganges for Asia, and the Plata for America. Come over here to this side,” Bryce urged his partner. “See, this is the Rio de la Plata. See how the figure is recoiling in horror at the sight of Boromini’s façade of Santa Agnese, as thought he not only could not stand the sight, but expected the church to collapse on him at any minute.”
“That reminds me of that cardinal being dragged down to hell in Michelangelo’s ‘Last Judgement.’ Remind me never to tick off an artist,” Damon observed.
Across the Piazza Navona from the church was an excellent restaurant, with, of course, outside seating. Bryce and Damon ate their evening meal as they watched the Romans go about their business, and tourists like them take pictures. It was an excellent way to spend the evening as dusk descended on the city.
From the north end of the piazza it was a short walk to the Tiber, then across the Ponte Umbrto I and around the Palace of Justice to the Piazza Cavour and the Hotel Cicerone.