(still writing in front of the Mausoleum's closed gate)

The mishaps started on the train, a few miles from the city - my beloved capital that I've heard call "a dead place"! (Well, yes, why do you think I feel at home there?) Last time I had enthusiastically taken a pic of a church in the fog from the train, convinced it was Sant'Apollinare in Classe, then I realized at home that it's west of the tracks, not east. So this time I placed myself at the correct window and whipped out my trusted camera as soon as we left the station before Classe.
And after a few minutes there it is! The famed, graceful round belfry! I place the camera against the glass and...

"Tickets, please."

I gave the man my ticket with what I guess was a frantic smile, then grabbed it after he had punched it and glued myself to the glass.

The cell phone rings.

I let it ring. Before we rolled into the station I couldn't take a pic of the church because of the houses, but when the train started again I managed to snap some passable pics. Yeah!

(now writing on the train to Milan)

As soon as I stepped into the Ravenna station, I went to leave part of my luggage at the baggage room. Luggage will be a problem during these trips to work with my friend in Riccione. It will be 5-6 days every time, and though this ease allows me to visit hopefully less doomed places (see The Spectacularly Failed Iacopo Avanzi Tour), I need to take lots of clothes with me. This time I tried to wash them day by day but the means were poor. Result: like the other time I walked into town like a smelly Ostrogoth. I'll need more and/or bigger bags and I hate it. This time the luggage was already humongous, what with the laptop, books and dirty clothes. So I put what I didn't need into another bag and left it there

Now, you must know that Emilia-Romagna in general has, to our Milanese ears, a lovely accent, soft and singsong, with some really exotic traits. So there I am, talking to the luggage man to make sure I understand how to retrieve my dirty clothes, and he asks me: "Are you from here?"

Great. Now I'm getting the accent. It's true, my Zs are already out of control. You should hear me complain aloud about the difficulty of seeing the works of Iacopo Avanthi. (The way he possibly did pronounce his name, since he was from Bologna. Or is the inflexion a later phenomenon? More research to do. I'm not even getting into how the 5th century Ravennates pronounced their Latin.)

The first step once in town was San Giovanni. I've mentioned elsewhere the frescoes doubtfully attributed to Iacopo. The church itself is very nice, and convenient, being practically in front of the station. It's little known, but it dates from Galla Placidia's time, and very likely it became a part of Theodoric's palace. It was destroyed during the last world war but rebuilt exactly as it was. It's less glamorous than other churches possibly because it has no gilded mosaics, but along the walls you can see graceful squares from the old mosaiced floor, animals and abstract decorations. It's wide and tall and simple, the way Sant'Apollinare Nuovo must have looked originally, and with the open serenity of Sant'Apollinare in Classe.

Then I went downtown (if you can say so when it takes half an hour on foot from one end to the other – the old city is all downtown!) to look for books. I have a gift voucher for a popular chain of libraries that some dearest friends gave me for my birthday. Well, the local section had nothing interesting – same as the one in Bologna. A library that had greatly interested me during another visit turned up nothing either. I ended up buying a book in Sant'Apollinare Nuovo about the mosaics in the church. It has useful pics I'd never seen, but the text! Yes, some nuggets, but listen to this description of Theodoric: "Tall and handsome, beautiful blue-green eyes, long golden curls and no beard." The lack of beard was what made the penny drop. Why, this is Thidrek, a.k.a. Dietrich von Bern. We need our manic dragon-killer to come back here and resume reminding everybody that He Is Not Theodoric. Or rather vice versa.

I took some more pics around that I had not taken the other time, then headed for the Mausoleum. Maybe next time I'll go see the west part with Galla Placidia and San Vitale, but for this time I still kept myself to the vicinity of the station. Now that they've fixed the road, as I said the other time, it's 15 minutes to the Mausoleum and 15 back to the station. Don't take this as a realistic indication, however. It's 15 minutes for a fit, slightly fanatical Saxon with long legs.

Still, it was a close call. I went to the ticket booth and the girl, who I think recognizes me by now, started with: "Er, but, haven't you read the notice on the door..."

I felt a SCREAM start to build up.

Nothing hopeless, there was a union meeting until 1430 pm. It was already 14, the wait would be brief (and I had discovered some little improvements in the bathrooms at the visitors' centre). Only, I had the train at 1530. I started worrying for my dirty clothes. Would I manage to snatch them from the luggage deposit, in a hurry to take the train?

I did. But it was the Fastest Visit Ever to the king. Also because - but this was nice - the guardian who let me into the gate at 1436 ("Hey, almost on time!" I chirped. He stared, amused by this oddity camped in front of the Mausoleum like a Rolling Stones groupie. "Almost???") even opened the upper door for me with a massive, truly mediaeval key, and stopped a bit to chat.

This is what I discovered this time. New stuff: elegant latticework in the windows to keep the pigeons out, though I'm a bit worried about the holes they drilled to put them into place. The strange marble squares on the ground around the lower part are the places of the foundations of the Mausoleum. (But which ones? The fabled columns?) The long avenue leading to the door has revealed the traces of what was possibly the ramp used to roll the monolith cupola into place. The ramp was even longer than the avenue now is.

Now for the bad news. All bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, I say: "You're really doing a great job here, with the meadow and the flowers and all..."

"Yeah," he replies downcast, "pity that now it's stopped."

"... buh?"

"This side here," – the digs around the right side of the Mausoleum – "is stuck indefinitely. Yeah, they found the ruins of the Mediaeval church, lots of tombs... and now it's there under the canvas."

Groan. The story of my life during this trip, and a sad commentary on the state of artistic conservation in Italy. Unesco World Heritage, indeed. There is no money to pay employees, and the few they have are diverted to office work. That's why the "palace" has been closed these many months – not because they are restoring the mosaics, as I hoped. The guardian also told me that they were setting up an archaeological museum in Classe, and that's stopped too. No money, no people, no initiative. I can't complain about the continuous exhibitions and the new finds being opened and maintained (like the Domus of the Stone Carpets) but you'd think they'd take a bit more care of the "classic" monuments.

By then it was late, not horribly late but I had to hurry. I took some pics here and there, rather half-heartedly, worried about my dirty clothes. I think by now I know this tomb stone by stone (though I'm sure I have forgotten something yet again). Not that it's lost its charm, but it's beginning to feel more like dropping by and say hi to friends than some ritual. You're in town, you have time, why not pay a visit? Which means that in about a month I'll be sitting in front of the same gate taking pics of myself with the timer...

I dashed to the station, got my dirty laundry back and boarded the train with no problems. I even had the time to, you know, eat something, even though lunch time was way behind me. I took a seat on the correct side and when the train started I tried, once again, to take a pic of the Mausoleum from the window.

OK, the first time (once when I didn't stop) I didn't even know it was there. The first time I really went there to see the city, I sat on the wrong side of the train. Two times we went by car. Another time that I just passed through it was raining, and last time my camera's battery died when I tried to take the pic.

This time a freight train ran parallel to us while we were passing the Mausoleum.

Sometimes I feel I'm cursed. Not too much, no, just a little bit...

(Live from Ravenna - May 1)

A diary of my latest 6 hours in Ravenna requires a more detailed explanation of how I escaped the Cesenatico convention I was at, like a thief in the night, literally. I hoped I'd go to bed earlier, but my cousin drove me back at 1 am after a pizza in an incredible place: Gradara. So my 3 or 4 roommates (I had lost track) were already asleep.

I had a plan. I had used the common bathroom downstairs, so I would not disturb them. Unfortunately the room door clicked loudly when I closed it. Also I still had to prepare a pack to leave with my friends with stuff I wasn't going to need in Ravenna - mostly towels and dirty clothes, for their joy, but I couldn't prepare those in advance since I was still wearing them. But most of my things were in the locker beside my bed and just next to the unhappy occupant of the neighbouring bed, and of course I packed them with maximum racket. I could also have remembered that we were advised to take cloth sacks for the Camino de Santiago, not to disturb the other pilgrims when getting up early - and of course I had only noisy plastic sacks.

Since I was going to leave early in the morning - 8 am, but that's the crack of dawn for a convention - I also had to lay out everything at the ready. When I tried to set the alarm, I discovered my cell was completely discharged. So I rummaged again in my pack for the charger, connected it to the socket in the bathroom and went to bed in my denims. I had to forbid myself to fall asleep for half an hour before I could retrieve a partially charged phone and have a chance to wake up in the morning.

Which I did - much earlier than the alarm, of course. I tried to sleep again clutching my cell phone to be ready to silence it as soon as the alarm sounded, but in the end I simply turned off the alarm and waited for 8 am.

By then my roommates were still sound asleep. So I did an even braver thing than sleeping in my denims: I got up, put on the rest of my clothes, picked up the things I had neatly laid out and slipped out to go wash in the bathroom downstairs.

At least I managed the basic biological functions, but when I had a look at the sink I noticed the wastebasket was overflowing with paper and... crawling with tiny black insects. OK. I washed my hands in a hurry and ran out of the hotel in a cool sunny morning, sorry for disappointing my friends, with my backpack not that much lighter for leaving the dirty clothes behind, thinking I was going to make a true impression of an Ostrogoth charging into Ravenna in a state of unholy filthiness, but totally elated!

Luckily I was early at the Cesenatico station, and it had a nice clean bathroom. There I stood on the platform a few minutes later, much cleaner (apart for my denims which felt like a second skin) and feeling the old magic.

I scanned the countryside to catch a glimpse of Sant'Apollinare in Classe since I wouldn't be able to see it. I took a picture of something that turned out to be something else entirely... next time I might try looking out the right side of the train.

About half an hour later...
Convention: 150 euro.
Train tickets: 60 euro.
Breakfast in the capital: priceless!

It rained while I was in Sant'Apollinare Nuovo, but for the rest I had sun and refreshing wind. I think I spent close to 3 hours inside the church, with the camera growing out of my face like an Aelf-Borg (unit designation 1 of 1). How did I do all that stuff that first time in 5 hours? When I got out I had barely the time to run out and go pay my respects at the Mausoleum.

It's the fourth time, and always a great emotion. This time I studied the various damages and reconstructions which I've discovered lately and which are quite extensive. If one doesn't know, the overall effect is beautiful, but being able to read the scars is saddening. Still it's fascinating to know one is looking at an artifact of a millennium and half ago. Patched up though it is, the largest portion is still there.

The works around the Mausoleum and in the park are going on. There are still wooden partitions around a section of the monument, so it's not at its best yet. I wish wish WISH they planted again the cypresses behind it, but I fear they won't. On the other hand they fixed the road, so one now really can get there from the station in under 20 minutes. But please, Sire - next time have at least ONE of the bathrooms in the TWO visitors' centres working, or I'll pee in the Trajan Acqueduct.

Now here I am, sitting on the floor of the Ravenna-Bologna local train, because here lots of people travel during these extended weekends, and so there are less trains, of course. I need a shower and a real bathroom, but wow... I above all needed this.