I'm a nervous traveller, especially if I have a train to catch.
When on vacation the concept is to slow down and change your pace. Today I know I need a new concept. Staying in a country inn in the middle of the Veneto surrounded by cornfields sounds romantic, and there are certainly advantages, but today I have to deal with logistics. Forgive me, but I need to explain, as today's journey to point-A is: taxi ride to train station (Mogliano Veneto), coach bus to another train station (Mestre), train ride to Vicenza. This takes a few minutes more than two hours. I know I have to be back for dinner at half past seven, so, arriving at almost noon, and building in some cushion - I have about four and a half hours to cram in as much Palladio as I can.
The train station in Vicenza is to the south of the western end of the Corso Palladio, the road that runs through the historic city center. Pass below the old tower and there are two Palladio's at either end of the Piazza del Castello: the partially finished
Palazzo Porto Breganze to the south and
Palazzo Thiene Bonin Longare to the north. The Porto actually consists only of two out of seven planned bays, but as a fragment it's certainly eye-catching, if odd-looking. Thiene is a sturdy block of a thing and a good appetizer, with some nice detailing, deep relief, and a well-kept courtyard. You can see the fragment and the whole opposite each other and fill in the blanks - but fill in later, cause we got to go.
Down the Corso, turn the corner and find
Palazzo Valmarana Braga Rosa. A similar block to Thiene, there's a real patina on this one. It does not seem to be in tip-top shape, but is being used as some kind of bed and breakfast (maybe?). I walk in with an African-American family that is (maybe?) staying there, and see some of the rooms in a deep state of decay, but what's still good looks really good. Anyway, I think I've seen what I can see and head out.
Turn another corner, find another palazzo, the
Palazzo Pojana, which is differentiated by its rusticated bottom story and its balconies. It seems a simpler design; I snap some pictures and move on.
As I'm walking east, I start to get hints of the
Basilica Palladiana, with its tall copper roof visible down a few streets and alleys.
The Basilica presents a very long face to the Piazza dei Signori, but is doesn't seem overly grand or ponderous. The columns scale well, and the spacing and the other perforations lend a laciness to the surface. It has a Doric order topped with Ionic; both straight out of the
Four Books. The copper cap adds some color and energy, too. The campanile is near the center of the Piazza, but at the northeast corner of the Basilica.
So we'll walk around the building "clockwise", starting from the statue of Andrea Palladio (with pigeon) on the southwest corner. The invention here is the double-thick, double-wide columns set below a single cornice, with arches above. The stone surface left over, between the double-wide columns and the arches, is swiss-cheesed with holes. A giant Doric order runs above that, to a full Doric entablature, a single triglyph pushed outward in deep relief for each column. This is repeated in Ionic order on the upper story, but instead of the triglyph, there is a squeezed, slightly swollen block, expressing the weight of the figure above.
At the north west corner of the Piazza is the
Loggia del Capitaniato, a really attractive giant-order cube, with a wonderful warm tone. I suspect the vertical has been exaggerated to keep it from looking too squat. I turn down the Basilica's arcade. The gate at the top of the stairs is locked; would loved to have seen the upper arcade, but probably don't have time anyway.
Arriving at the eastern end of the Basilica, I see that the Campanile is actually part of a building "slice" that makes up, and cuts off, that end of the building. On the other end of that slice is a smaller tower that runs into the Basilica with an archway; somehow I thought the Basilica was arcaded in the same way on all four sides, but it is not. This is the Piazza delle Erbe, and it feels like the Basilica's service entrance. At the west, the corner of the Basilica comes oh so close to the neighboring city block.
Okay, it's about one thirty. I make it to the
Teatro Olimpico, which is good cause this is where you get the tickets for all the other buildings, plus, the Teatro is a must-see. First I got to find the ticket office. The sign sends me around to the right, along the outside of the wall; the sign above the door says biglietteria, but the door is shut and locked, with no handle. I stop into the Gift Shop next door, but they send me around to find "Tourist Information". So back I go, and into the courtyard, but there is no such office. I stroll into the the Teatro entrance, and the man sends me out.
A couple of American tourists walk by and tell me that Tourist Information is around the corner to the left. I point out that the sign indicates to the right, and they say, "welcome to Italy". Everyone's a wise guy, but it feels like I lost an hour doing that. Okay, got my ticket and I'm in. First there's the courtyard, a lobby, an anteroom (with the Gift Shop), and a long-long, winding corridor. The corridor includes quite a few large panels with background material, but no time to look.
Then I enter the Teatro. I should throw in some cliche about the theater of architecture or something, but holy-moly, what a show. There's a lot going on. I take as many pictures as I can then climb the amphitheater seating and allow myself about ten quiet minutes to ruminate. It's spectacular.
Across the street is the
Palazzo Chiericati, an enormous white hunk of stone facing the Piazza Matteotti, and also serves as the civic museum. It's so big and there's so much to see (!) and absolutely no time. The ticket-taker notices I seem to be in a hurry, but warns me to keep looking "up" (she points upward). As soon as I enter the first room I understand. The rooms are generally large and bare, except for their amazing ceilings. There's an intriguing art show, but I just blow right through it. The African American family from the Valmarana is there and watching me rush around: that guy again?
There is a cute little library in the attic. Unfortunately, the courtyard is under repair. There is a stunning architecture show in the catacombs, which are themselves amazing. But, it's two thirty.
A quick stop into the
Tempio di Santa Corona, not a Palladio church, but it contains Palladio's Valmarana Chapel. Nice church, standard gothic fare, but downstairs is where there is something special. Simple, relaxing shapes, lit from the sides by small rectangular windows and pairs of happy, circular "eyes". The eyes are in the same relationship to the pilasters and arch as the holes that Palladio popped into the facade at the Basilica. Fantastic.
Now it's almost three, and I have to make a decision. Villa Rotunda is a 35 minute walk according to Siri. I could try to track down a taxi, and (or) also hope I can catch one back, or I can hoof it and know when I'll be there - I'd rather be sure, so I'm walking. Over the Retrone River, there is an adorable little Palladian church there being reconstructed, the
Oratorio di San Nicola. It'll open again in September, which is fine cause I can't stop now anyway.
I arrive at
Villa Capri, La Rotunda, exactly at three thirty, but I can only walk the garden; the interior is shut. Through a gate and up a long alley, which forces the geometry on you. The two walls are not symmetrical, as behind the right-side wall is a large building (the stables?); a gift shop sign is hung of the right, too. Strangely, the walled alley seems to make the approach less grandiose, not more. It's not till I get past the walls that the countryside fills in around the Villa and suddenly it commands a bigger space. The alley helps make a transition from urban, to suburban, and to the country. I do not realize just how far out of the city I had walked till I take the view from the top of the steps.
The Villa is beautiful, but almost enigmatic - four sides exactly the same. Unlike the churches and palazzos there is no hierarchy except what the landscape provides. It's as if there is no linear, architectural narrative; it's Palladio's Pulp Fiction. I also check out the long structure below the house, but it provides no additional information, though I almost get locked in when the staff starts closing up. The day is winding down. On the way out I notice there is a gate house or a chapel (?) opposite the gate which by itself is quite beautiful, but I leave its inspection for another time.
Okay, so now it's about four, and I think that, because I could not see the interior of Rotunda, I might have time for one more villa. It's on the way; it's the
Villa Valmarana ai Nani. I peel from the road onto a cobbled drive and into another walled alley. This is not easy walking, the round river rocks are lumpy, worn down, and slick, but at least there is no traffic. Being in this little valley is like having blinders, as you cannot see the countryside or really anything but where you're going. Suddenly, I come upon a big gate and the end of a tall, rusticated arch. Inside the gate, set in an impeccably manicured garden, is the Villa.
The Villa is rather plain, but well proportioned. It is Palladian, but maybe not a Palladio design; the connection being that the architect created several villas and other projects for the family, and this Villa contains his portrait. The garden wall is studded with the "nani" (dwarves). On the inside, every wall and ceiling is covered with frescos by the Tiepolo's. The house is big, and there's a lot to see; the garden building (stables?) is even bigger and there's even more to see. I take in what I can and try to leave by about five.
Palladio's portrait is there (right hand side of the picture) in the large entry hall of the guest house. The house is a treasure, and the views of the countryside are stunning. As I leave, I can look back down the alley, and see the Villa the way most travellers were meant to see it: being greeted by the nani, and seeing the building, on approach, from the three-quarter view. This way, the house seems more impressive, like the conclusion at the end of a journey.
I reach the end of the walled alley, passing several other old villas, and find myself at the top of a hill looking down on Vicenza. What a view. Through a green park, there is a incredibly long ramp covered by an arcade; what an unusual exit way. Down and down, the ramp takes me right back to the big City Park where I started, and I can catch my train back to Mestre.
