Every morning, I open the balcony doors to change the air. The first thing I do is look at the sky. And that’s how I saw the Strawberry Moon. It’s known as the Strawberry Moon because it comes in June and June is traditionally the month for picking strawberries. Every year in Texas, for example, they have the Poteet, Texas Strawberry Festival.
In Italy, the Strawberry Moon will reach its exact peak of fullness on June 30th at 1:56 AM but the moon has already started to puff up. It’s the first full moon after the summer soltice and will hang low while travelling the sky.
I keep reading that, although the moon is called strawberry, it doesn’t turn pink. But who wrote this hasn’t seen the moon I saw this morning from my balcony. The moon I saw looked like a faded strawberry full of light. And, as it wasn’t fully round, it rather looked like a strawberry, too!
A love story is a point of view. It depends upon who’s telling the story as to how the love story is perceived. The Vintage Princess has taken it upon herself to give her version of the ménage à trois between Consuelo, Saint-Exupéry, and the Little Prince. (continued from Saint-Exupéry’s Little Prince).
The Vintage Princess tells her story.
This morning I woke up with a crown on my head. Well, more than a crown, I’d call it a tiara. You see, I’m only a princess. And a very old one at that. This makes me quite happy, actually. Little girls want to grow up to be a princess. No girl I’ve ever known wanted to be queen.
The downside of being a princess is that there’s a good chance that, for political reasons, you’ll be married off to some king and then, maybe, become queen. Now how boring would that be to sit around all day wearing a heavy crown with a gown too bulky and long to let you climb trees?
Although my parents had tried marrying me off, I had no intention of marrying some fat, old, white man and decided to escape. Unfortunately, I didn’t know how to. But then one day, I met this blonde-haired boy who claimed to be a prince from another planet. This little prince was looking for his lamb, and I helped him find it thanks to Schrodinger’s cat. The prince and I got along well and easily became friends. When I told him about wanting to escape, he said “no problem”. That he had friends who could help me out.
The next morning, the little prince told me he’d contacted his friends, and this was the plan: All I had to do was to climb to the top of Mount Cynthus and wait for the night to come. Sure enough, right after it got dark, a spaceship came and transported me away. The crew on board was quite friendly and we easily telepathed together.
Finally, we arrived above the Sahara Desert and, after hugs and exchanges of coordinates, I was beamed down to the ground. It was my first time on Earth, and I didn’t know what to expect. Luckily, my friends from the spaceship had given me a knapsack full of things they said would be useful.
The desert was hot and I needed shade. In the distance, I saw something that looked like a lopsided airplane. Hoping to find some shade under a wing, I walked towards the plane.
Next to the plane was a man dressed in an aviator’s suit. He seemed quite surprised to see me. I must have seemed out of place with the tiara on my head. Nevertheless, good manners are never out of place. I extended my hand to introduce myself and said: “Hello, how are you? My name is Vintage Princess, what’s yours?”
He said his friends called him Toño. Toño was a pilot and his plane had crashed. He was trying to fix it so he could leave and go home.
Toño, it seemed, had a hesitant personality. He lacked spontaneity and I wondered why. After we’d been sweating in the sun for some time making awkward conversation, he took out a folded piece of paper from his pocket, unfolded it, and placed it in my hand. Then he asked: “what’s this a drawing of?” “Why, it’s obvious”, I responded. “It’s a boa digesting an elephant.” After my response, he looked quite surprised and studied me carefully.
“On my planet,” I continued, “we have lots of boas and they swallow things all the time.”
For example, my friend, Sally, was sunbathing on the beach when a boa crawled right next to her and swallowed her without warning. After that, I never saw Sally again. Once, when my back was turned, a boa tried swallowing me, too. But I had a bottle of aerosol pepperoncino on me and started spraying like crazy the boa’s stomach lining. In a short time, the boa started flipping around and had to gasp for air. That short gasp was all it took. With the mouth opened, I jumped out as quickly as possible and began running before the boa could react.
My escape was possible because snakes don’t chew since they swallow their victims whole. Boas then secrete hydrochloric acid and digestive enzymes to break down the food. Chemical teeth. The digestion takes the boa much time and energy depending upon the size of the victim. That’s why, if you’re swallowed by a boa, you need to escape before digestion begins.
I know of a boa that swallowed a garden gnome but the gnome, made from cement, refused to decompose. Despite the hydrochloric acid’s aggressive nature, it had difficulties fragmenting the gnome. Therefore, the gnome refused to decompose and the boa was forced to carry it around inside him making the boa look like some silly Carnevale float looking for wheels.
Toño the pilot then explained that he always has the people he meets look at his drawing. “Can you believe” he asked, “that most people don’t see a boa digesting an elephant and see, instead, a hat?”
the boa digesting an elephant *
It had been a busy day for both the pilot and me. Tired, we improvised a sleeping space in what was left of the cockpit. We looked up at the stars and tried searching for Orion, Cygnus, Scorpio, and Cassiopea. I found Cassiopea. It looks like an M made from stretched out elastic.
Looking at a nighttime sky can really make one curious. I asked Toño if he’d ever been to another planet. He said no but had recently met someone who travelled the skies visiting other planets. That’s when I knew he was talking about the Little Prince.
Toño said the Little Prince had shared many stories with him. That despite their different ways of perceiving life, Toño had really enjoyed his company and was sad to see him go. In fact, it was that subtracted companionship that saddened him so much.
Aside from myself, no one had understood that the drawing was not a hat but a boa digesting an elephant.
Suddenly I had a sort of epiphany—what if the Little Prince had me dropped off in the Sahara on purpose? What if he’d felt badly about leaving his friend alone and, to compensate, sent me. Well, now that was a thought. I was too tired to think about it and fell asleep under Cassiopea’s sagging M.
*drawing from “The Little Prince” by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
Antoine de Saint-Exupéry (1900-1944) was born into an aristocratic family from Lyon. His dad died of a stroke when Saint-Exupéry was only four leaving his family in economic difficulty. While in his late teens, Saint-Exupéry failed the exams at the Naval Academy. So he later took flying lessons and became a pilot. He also became a writer and wrote stories about his experiences flying.
In 1931, Saint-Exupéry married Consuelo Suncin de Sandoval, a writer from El Salvador. Consuelo was known as a mischief-maker with a bohemian spirit. The couple often fought and then Saint-Exupéry would console himself with his long-time mistress, Nelly de Vogué. Nelly was once suspected of being a spy.
Before the Vichy Regime, Saint-Exupéry flew reconnaissance missions for the French Airforce. However, he and Charles de Gaulle didn’t like one another despite being on the same side in the war. Saint-Exupéry feared that de Gaulle would become a post-war dictator. De Gaulee accused Saint-Exupéry of being a Nazi sympathizer and of supporting the Vichy Regime. As Saint-Exupéry passionatley opposed Nazism, this accusation led to depression and heavy drinking. Not wanting to subject himself to further shame, Saint-Exupéry went to the States with his wife where he lived from 1941-1943.
It was at this time that Saint-Exupéry’s editor encouraged him to write a children’s book. Maybe, because during a war the meaning of life seems to illude us, it helps to take the time to rediscover the world through the eyes of a child. While living in New York, Saint-Exupéry had to face many challenges. He had health problems, was fighting with his wife, and was depressed about the political situation in France. Writing “The Little Prince” was a way of reconnecting with a part of life we adults often forget–the importance of discovery. And of play.
In 1943, Saint-Exupéry returned to France to combat with the Free French Airforce (despite health and age issues). In 1944, he was on a reconnaissance mission over Corsica when his airplane disappeared. It wasn’t until 2000 that wreckage from his plane finally surfaced near Marseille.
Unfortunately, Saint-Exupéry saw his home under a Nazi authoritarian dictatorship and would die before seeing the enemy crushed. However, Saint-Exupéry had no illusions and saw his participation in the war as a “sacrifice mission”. Because he saw the rise of fascism not only as a problem for France.
Nazis and fascists are birds of a feather who flock together. FDR defined fascism as private power that grows so much that it becomes stronger than the state itself. And Mussolini saw fascism as some sort of corporation that merged state and corporate power.
Saint-Exupéry’s disappearance was a mystery for years. Eventually, a former Luftwaffe pilot, Horst Ripper, claimed he believed that he may have been the one who shot down Saint-Exupéry. Ripper said that when he was young, he read and adored Saint-Exupéry’s aviation books. Had he known Saint-Exupéry was the pilot, claimed Ripper, he never would have shot him down.
Can you imagine killing one of your heroes? How do you live with that? But that’s what war does, it destroys ideals.
Recently I changed language apps and thus found myself reading “The Little Prince” in Greek. “The Little Prince” is the story of a young boy who draws a boa digesting an elephant that everyone interprets as a hat. That his drawing was never understood became a problem for him. The young boy got tired of trying to explain things to adults and abandoned drawing to become a pilot. One day he crashes in the Sahara Desert and, while fixing his plane, he meets the Little Prince. The Little Prince tells the pilot his story who then tells the reader.
“The Little Prince” was written after the fall of France to the Germans. Saint-Exupéry knew France was losing and that its armed forces were in full retreat. It seemed to the whole world that fascism had won and the ideals of the French Revolution had been forgotten. Italian fascism had taken over Europe.
Fascists are violent. They are the product of a hyped-up patriarchal society full of insecure men who have to constantly “prove” how strong they are by bullying those in weaker positions. Like women.
Fascists make me feel claustrophobic.
Nazism and fascism always point to some glorious mythical past as a utopian goal for the people. While Hitler was trying to resuscitate Aryan myths, Mussolini wanted to re-establish the Roman Empire. Utopian fantasies are created when you are searching for the meaning and purpose of life that you haven’t found on your own. Fascism is about propaganda and the push to fight for a reality that doesn’t exist.
The problem of western males is that they feel the weight of society’s demands on them and are forced to compete in a competition they can’t win. And this stress on their masculinity often makes them wacko. Fascism is based on insecure men trying to give themselves a manhood.
The masses, said Saint-Exupéry, all feel in one way or another the need to become. He said that the attraction to fascism was that men believed it the superhighway to manhood, self-respect, and community. Community for fascists meant being standardized in the same way—wearing the same uniforms, singing the same songs, and, together, eating the same food.
“The truth for a man is that which makes a man out of him”, wrote Saint-Exupéry. Unfortunately, everyone wants to be a hero without necessarily behaving like one.
In 1931, Saint-Exupéry met Consuelo Carrillo in Bueno Aires. He was immediately smitten by her whereas Consuelo was uncomfortably intrigued. Saint-Exupéry wanted to get married despite being a hardcore womanizer. Why do womanizers marry when they have no intention of being faithful? Well, the couple married and Saint-Exupéry continued to have affairs. Of course this caused major conflict in their relationship. It was one of those “can’t live with but can’t live without” relationships. They would fight; Saint-Exupéry would run off to one of his girlfriends but he’d always come back.
After Saint-Exupéry’s disappearance following a reconnaissance mission, Consuelo wrote a memoir about their life together then locked the manuscript in a trunk. It wasn’t until her death in 1979 that the manuscript was discovered by her heir and long-time employee, José Martinez Fructuoso. The manuscript was subsequently edited and published with the title “The Tale of the Rose”.
French biographer, Marie-Helene Carbonel, wrote “Une mariée vêtue de noir” (A Bride Dressed in Black), describing the animated dynamics between Saint Exupéry and his wife Consuelo. Carbonel writes that Consuelo, known as the Scheherazade of the Tropics because of her talent as a storyteller, was born in El Salvador to a wealthy coffee grower. Consuelo married a wealthy man, got tired of him quickly, divorced but would later say he died in the Mexican Revolution. Her second husband did die while they were married making her a true widow. It was said that Consuelo was particularly good at being a muse and inspired many famous men such as d’Annunzio who called her “El Volcancito”
Consuelo met and married Saint-Exupéry in 1931. It was an animated marriage as they fought a lot. Consuelo loved her husband although she described him as a man incapable of offering a woman security. He constanty humilitated her with his countless affairs. This psychological abuse caused Consuelo profound unhappiness. Maybe that’s why she felt the need to give her side of the story after her husband’s disappearance.
Joseph Cornell: Joseph Cornell and Saint Exupéry Dossier… The Saint-Exupéry dossier is one of countless files that Cornell assembled about various friends, historical figures, and themes, forming a dynamic library of everyday ephemera that fueled his imagination and served as source material for his remarkable works of collage and assemblage + Cornell’s vein of avant-gardewas forged from childlike innocence and as a secretive refuge from adulthood (stories by Hans Christian Anderson and Antoine de Saint-Exupery’s The Little Prince were often referenced in Cornell’s works). +
Have you heard about all the scientists in the U.S. who’ve gone missing or have died mysteriously in the past few years? Yes, finally a source for new conspiracy theories. Even the FBI has started a related investigation because there’s concern that this could represent a problem for national security. These scientists are involved primarily in projects related to nuclear and/or aerospace research. And, apparently, the Chinese are experiencing the same problem as several top Chinese scientists have mysteriously died (see links below).
Remember Hitchcock’s film, “Torn Curtain” (1966) with Paul Newman playing an American scientist who pretends to defect to East Germany in an attempt to steal a nuclear formula from another scientist there? Or Project Paperclip, an American government program that, in order to exploit the military knowledge of German and Austrian scientists, sponsored their post WWII immigration to the U.S.
The main theory as to why these scientists are disappearing is that rival powers are trying to prohibit Americans from making further technological advancements. And apparently some of these rival powers come from far away—space. Yes, some theorists claim that aliens are afraid that humans will catch up with them re: technology. Then aliens would lose their privileged position that’s privileged simply because they are technologically more advanced.
Knowledge is power.
On Liberation Day, we went to Feltrinelli’s. Although we have a nice bookstore in our neighborhood, Feltrinelli’s has more of a buzz. Plus, I enjoy the international section because there’s always something on display to provoke me. This time it was a book by Thomas Harding, “The Einstein Vendetta”.
Albert Einstein and Robert Einstein were cousins. Their fathers, Hermann and Jacob respectively, were brothers and, for a while, business partners in an electrical engineering company. The two families lived in the same building in Munich which meant they spent considerable time together. Albert, older by four years, and Robert lived in the same place for 11 years.
In 1894, the Einstein brothers fell into a deep financial calamity. The brothers then decided to close down their business in Munich and start all over again in Milan where, once again, their families lived together. But the business went bankrupt and the brothers decided it was time to go separate ways. Albert’s father set up a business in Milan but Robert’s dad wound up in Genova. Robert fell in love with Italy and its lifestyle and wanted to stay. After his father’s death, Robert moved to Rome where he met Nina Mazzetti, his future wife.
The couple married in 1913. But a short time after the wedding, Robert decided to return to Germany as Germany had declared war on Russia and Robert felt obliged to enlist in the army Enlisted, he spent the next 12 months in the trenches. Albert, on the other hand, was now a Swizz citizen and, despite the fact that he was working in Berlin, he didn’t feel the need to enlist.
After the war, Robert’s Italian wife wanted to go back home. So the couple left war-torn Germany and returned to Italy where they eventually bought a farm in Tuscany with a villa, Il Focardo. Here they raised not only their own two daughters but the daughters of Nina’s brother as well. And all would have been a Happily Ever After story had it not been for fascists and nazis and their obsession with war.
It’s known that Hitler absolutely despised Einstein calling the scientist a public enemy and a degenerate. As a Jewish scientist, Einstein was targeted by the nazis. His books were burned and his property seized. That’s why Albert renounced his German citizenship and moved to the States as did his sister, his second wife, and his eldest son. His first wife, Mileva, and their youngest son lived in Switzerland.
Albert, knowing that he was targeted, had moved himself and his immediate family out of Germany so they couldn’t be harmed. This meant that Hitler had to arrive at hurting Einstein in another way and did so by targeting his cousin, Robert, who was living in fascist Italy. When Robert understood that the nazis were looking for him, he went hiding in the woods (like Alberto Moravia) leaving his wife and children at Il Focardo. The nazis arrived at Il Focardo looking for Robert and, not finding him, viciously murdered his wife and children. When Robert found out, he went wacko with grief. Luckily, the allies arrived and, initially, were determined that reparations were needed and began investigating not only the slaughter of Robert’s family but the terrifying murders of so many other victims of war as well. A year after his wife’s and daughters’ death, unable to deal with the grief, Robert committed suicide.
So, if you were a scientist, would you rather be abducted by an alien or by a Nazi?
Every third Sunday of the month, there’s an outdoor book market under the porticoes of Piazza Vittorio in Rome.
Porticoes are one of Turin’s most distinctive architectural features. It’s said that King Victor Emmanuel I (1759-1824) wanted to take a stroll every day despite the weather. So he asked the royal architect for a solution and, violà, porticoes.
Before it’s unification, Italy was just a hodgepodge of powers competing for attention. The north was dominated by the House of Savoy. The House helped fight for the unification of Italy and, when the country was finally unified, the Savoian king from Sardinia, Victor Emmanuel II, became united Italy’s first monarch.
Victor Emmanuel II was born in Turin and, after he became King of Italy, Turin became Italy’s capital. But that changed in 1870 when Rome was finally part of the unification and became the new capital. This meant that the bluebloods from the north had to move south. They did so bringing their aesthetics standards with them. And for this reason, the Piedmontese vibe was highly present in Rome.
Since Italy was a new nation, they had to create a new identity to go with it. And architecture could help with that. It was decided that a big square should be made in the center of Rome. This meant tearing down a bunch of villas to create space for a porticoed square. The square, now known as Piazza Vittorio, was designed by the architect, Gaetano Koch, and represents the “stile umbertino“.
“Stile Umbertino” has sometimes been called Italy’s Renaissance Revival. But it’s actually the Italian version of Eclectism, a style that mixes different elements of different historical times. It takes its name from King Umberto I of Savoy who reigned over the Kingdom of Italy from 1878-1900. The stile umbertino prefers classical proportions, ornate decorations, and monumental grandeur.
Beyond the fence is what remains of Villa Palombara. Villa Palombara was once the luxurious residence of the Marquis Massimiliano Savelli Palombara, an alchemist and lover of esotericism.
It was still early so not all book stalls had been set up.
Picture Postcards from the past
patchwork mosaics
This is the entrance to the Nicola Calipari Garden.
The park at Piazza Vittorio is known as the Nicola Calipari Garden in honor of Nicola Calipari, an Italian major and intelliegence officer who was, accidentally, killed in Iraq by American soldiers while trying to help the recently released hostage, journalist Giuliana Sgrena, get to the Baghdad airport. His death created a serious dipolmatic incident.
When the bullits started attacking them, Calipari threw himself on Sgrena to protect her. Her life was saved but his was not. Calipari’s courage transformed him into a national hero.
The garden is lovely and green but the grass is a bit overgrown.
People in the park doing Tai Chi together.
A mosaic mural entitled “L’Albero delle Identità” (video in the making HERE) meant to prepresent the multi-ethnic neighborhood.
porticato from the garden
During the excavations done during the square’s constrution, large burial pits were discovered. These “common field” graveyards were burial sites for criminals and slaves.
Is this a Mexican Bush Sage?
Palms near the remains of Villa Palombara
Fontana del Glauco
The fountain in the foreground is the Fontana del Glauco created by Mario Rutelli, sculptor and grandfather of the ex-mayor of Rome, Francesco Rutelli. This sculptural group was originally intented for the Fountain of the Naiads at Piazza della Republica but didn’t quite fit in so it was moved to Piazza Vittorio.
Fontana del Glauco
Because of its somewhat chaotic composition, the fountain is often called “fritto misto”, a term used for mixed fried fish. But its named after Glaucus, a prophetic sea-god. Glaucus was a mortal but became immortanl after eating a special herb.
Fontana del Glauco
Nymphaeum
Engraving of the Nymphaeum of Alexander by Giovan Battista Piranesi (1772 )
Behind Rutelli’s fountain is what’s left of the nymphaeum “Trofeì di Mario.” “From his basement laboratory, built in 1653 to pursue his alchemic interests, the Marquis of Palombara could gaze upon the ruins of the Nymphaeum of Alexander also erroneously called Trophies of Marius. The laboratory was accessed through a secondary portal, called the Magic Door, which sadly is all that remains of that magic palace today, since it was all demolished in 1880, to make way for the construction of the Piazza Vittorio Emanuele II.” via ancient origins
The Magic Door
The marble monument seen here is a war memorial that, for some reason, was placed near the Magic Door (Porta Magica) (seen in the background).
This structure is known by at least two names: Porta Magica (Magic Door) and Porta Alchemica (Alchemical Gate). It’s a wall with a door in the middle. The door is guarded by statues of the Egyptian god, Bes. This is all that remains of Marquis Oddo Savelli’s Villa Palombara. The door has many esoteric and kabbalistic symbols and inscriptions both in Hebrew and Latin. See November 24 and links below for more info.
The Magic Door
broken columns near the Magic Door
statues
more palms
what a balcony!
Piazza Vittorio No. 70
I wanted a photo of this door as it related to my post Gadda’s Mess as well as Gadda’s Mess part II. Gadda was enchanted by “cronaca nera” (crime news) and read it religiously. One story in particular mesmerized him—the story of Angela Barrucca’s murder. His most famous novel, “Quer pasticciaccio brutto de via Merulana” (“That Awful Mess on the via Merulana“) is a story based on the Angela’s murder. Here, at no 70, Angela and here little boy were murdered by the Cataldi sisters.
From a distance it looks like a little cottage from a Hansel and Gretel story. But it’s actually a cafe called Horti Magici.
behind the bars
shadow selfie
tree with flowers
anti-fascist poster and graffiti
In the background, the church of Sant’ Eusebio all’Esquilino.
Regoli is a 100 year old pastry shop and coffee bar (via dello Statuto 60). It must be good as there was a long line.
Palazzo Brancaccio initially hosted Giuseppe Tucci’s Oriental Art. but, in 2016, the museum’s collection became part of the Museo delle Civiltà located in the EUR area.
The original museum opened in 1958 and was intented to enhance research done on the Middle and Extreme Orient. Many objectys came from Tucci’s exploration of Tibet and Nepal.
Giuseppe Tucci (1894-1984) was an explorer, orientalist, and religious scholr. During his life, he was considered one of the most important Tibetologist in the world. Tucci was also a Freemason as well as a fascist. Mussoline helped subsidize some of his explorations. Tucci also kept a lifelong correspoonce with Mircea Eliade (1907-1986), Romanian scholar.
Tucci also collaborated with Fosco Maraini (1912-2004), an anthropoo9logist, orientalist, alpinist, photographer, anti-fascist, and once husband to artist Topazia Alliata and father of the writer Dacia Mairaini.
Via Merulana no. 219 is the address Gadda used as the address for the protagonist in That Awful Mess on the via Merulana“. I was a bit surprised by the facade and wonder why Gadda chose it.
via Merulana no. 219
But a photo of this facade and plaque was necessary as it related to my post Gadda’s Mess as well as Gadda’s Mess part II. Gadda was enchanted by “cronaca nera” (crime news) and read it religiously. One story in particular mesmerized him—the story of Angela Barrucca’s murder. His most famous novel, “Quer pasticciaccio brutto de via Merulana”, is a story based on the Angela’s murder.
I bought this Gino Boccasile catalogue for E10. Overpriced. But if you go to an outdoor book market, you must buy at least one book.
The Narrative Within 