Envoi

            It has only been a day since leaving Rome, and already I miss it.  There is so much about Rome to miss.  I miss the curving streets, the crowded buildings with faded paint.  I miss the way ruins casually break into the streets and mesh with more current buildings.  I miss the constant sound and the noise of people, of high heels clacking on cobblestone.  I miss the constant motorinos and cars, skillfully (and scarily) driving around tight corners and curves over bumpy roads.  I miss the open piazzas and the fountains spurting free, fresh water.  I miss the pizza, the pasta, and especially the gelato.  I miss waking up and seeing everyone’s exhausted faces.  I miss our busy mornings, siesta filled afternoons, and late dinners.  I miss Rome, and I miss the Romekids.

            Photos alone can never capture the Trevi Fountain.  The rush of the water drowns out any sounds you would attempt to make, and the crowds of people add a whole other element to the experience.  I will never forget, the three of us, Maria, Katy and I, the Trevi Fountain group, giving our presentation.  With my hoarse voice, fighting over a cold, I spoke as loud as I could against the water.  I couldn’t help but laugh when Erika, out of nowhere, spread her arms and said (as loudly as I wish I could have spoken), “I feel like a mermaid!” 

The Pantheon is imposing and large, but it can still sneak up on you as you come around the corner of a small, winding street.  On the portico you can still see the places where the giant statues of Marcus Agrippa and Augustus would have once stood, and standing in front of the empty spaces, I wondered what it would have been like as a temple in Ancient Rome.  Seeing the sharp beam of light the oculus reflects on to the marble walls, one has to wonder how the ancient architects managed to do what they did. 

The colosseum for the gladiators and the poor must have looked very different than the colosseum for the upper class, if our special tour was any clue.  At the very top level, overlooking the ancient amphitheater where few are allowed to visit, Dan rolled his eyes as we all took pictures, rudely ignoring our guide.  It was then, looking out over the side of the wall at the Temple of Venus and Roma, and all the people below, that I fell in love with Rome.

The Campo de’ Fiori was bustling with life and sounds and food, such good food, something that you can’t truly experience without being in the middle of it.  I remember a line of us following Jackie in to the Campo De’ Fiori Forno, excited to eat pizza and explore.  I would end up going back there many times, and eating with Katy on the marble bench running along the side of the Palazzo Farnese.

The necropolis of St. Peter’s is like entering another world, and up in the church itself the art and sheer overwhelming nature took my breath away.  In the Vatican museums I felt like a sheep being herded, but in the Sistine chapel I resisted the crowd and stayed, soaking as much of it in as I could.  Slowly all the churches began to blend together, into a memory of frightful beauty.

I loved the hills, and the gardens, and the look of the city from up high.  I loved the pizza at Remo’s, the feeling of eating in a place that just felt roman.  I loved going out to celebrate Nichole’s birthday, and watching the Tiber at night.  I saw so many things, and became friends with so many wonderful people.  It is an experience that I will never have again in quite the same way.

Seeing Rome is one thing, but being in Rome is something entirely different.

            I remember when I first went, for all of a day, at 17.  I was amazed with what I saw, but did not understand any of it.  I had no idea what I was seeing, where I was, or why what I was seeing was important.  I enjoyed Rome, but I didn’t fall in love like I did this time.  There is something wonderful that comes with understanding.

            It wasn’t hard to fall in love with Rome this time.  After a semester of reading about it, Rome felt oddly familiar.  Already I was able to place locations on a map.  Even within the first day, I knew the general location of where I was at all times.  It was exciting to see all the monuments and ruins and be able to recognize things and understand a little bit of their historical context.  Rome has so much character, and so much history.  To go there and feel like you can actually grasp some of it is an amazing feeling.

            I will always remember walking along the streets laughing and talking with all the other Rome kids.  I will remember waiting for the bus that only came when we didn’t want it.  I will remember the lovely dinners, and the lovely guests, and the lovely museums.  And I will remember the feel of the crisp air from the top of the hills, overlooking the city below.

Words alone can never capture the true feelings I felt while in Rome.

Giornali 5: Castel Sant' Angelo

            The Castel Sant’ Angelo is like a labyrinth.  It is made up of dark ramps, continuous stairs, and doors that lead to multiple locations.  I can see how it served as a fortress – I had a very hard time navigating it.  The maps and occasional “tour route this way” arrows that they have been placed at various points are relatively unhelpful as well.  Perhaps it was in part exhaustion, or in part distraction from the beautiful view, but I found myself circling the same path twice before discovering some place new.

            Nevertheless, the ancient mausoleum-turned-fortress-turned-castle-turned-museum is really quite beautiful.  I’ve wanted to go inside it since I first saw it, back when I was 17 and had absolutely no idea what I was seeing.  I remember walking along the side of the Tiber, looking up at the statue of the archangel at the top.  I asked the other high school students I was with what it was, but no one knew.  Now, a little over two years later, I know what all the structures I once saw are, and more.  From the moment I got in Rome, I wanted to see the Castel Sant’ Angelo up close.  Funny that in reality it ended up being on the second to last day. 

            I went with Katy, and we walked there after visiting the Vatican Museum.  The walk was not too long, but it seemed to take much longer in the hot summer heat.  The line was decently long, but it was in the shade, between the first defensive wall and the main structure.  Upon entering, you go down some stairs into the monument, and then up a spiraling ramp in what feels like a cave.  Following the ramp are stairs, and your reward for the walk is a lovely little courtyard with the statue of an angel.  The statue is not the archangel that resides on top, but rather a simple looking angel, made of marble with iron wings.  I love the distinct difference the wings have from the main body.  From there are a couple of stairs and a couple of doorways.  We chose one of the doorways first.

            The doors let out into gallery rooms that showed religious artwork.  The paintings were lovely, but spending the entire earlier part of the day in the Vatican Museums took a little glory away from them (sadly).  A couple of confused turns, doorways, and staircases later, we found ourselves outside on the outer rim of the Castel.  The view was beautiful.  You could see St. Peter’s clearly, along with most of Rome.  Katy and I took a minute to rest in the fresh air before exploring more nooks and crannies and eventually making our way to the top terrace.  The view from up there was even better, but the sun was so bright that it was hard to see.  The archangel stands directly above the terrace, close and intimidating, but majestic.  Apparently, the statue was placed there to represent the archangel appearing over the mausoleum to mark the end of a plague in medieval times.  That is also when the mausoleum got its new name as the Castel Sant’ Angelo.  We spent a little while at the top, pointing out all the places we had been.  Slowly, we headed back down, eyes stinging from the change in light.

            I wonder which parts were original to the mausoleum.  I wonder what happened to the ashes of Hadrian.  There were many things I wondered as I walked along the spiraling ramp and back into the daylight.  I can’t believe it’s been two weeks.  Something about seeing the Castel finally allowed that to sink in.  Taking a long last look, Katy and I made our way through the waiting street vendors back to the dorms.

Space and Place in the Vatican Museum

            The artwork in the Vatican Museums is extensive and beautiful.  But for the majority of tourists, little is as well known as the Sistine Chapel.  The museum obviously recognizes this, and the most of the museum seems organized into a slow path towards the famous destination.  The extra artwork, gorgeous in its own right, is more like added ambiance to the herd of sheep-people.  Arrows point towards the chapel, and hordes of people push and shove to get through.  The pathway takes everyone through numerous different galleries, of which everyone takes quick pictures of but never looks.  Occasionally, small rooms veer off of the main path, showcasing extra artwork.  For those brave enough to shove through the crowd, the rooms are rewarding, with beautiful sculptures and a slight bit of breathing room.   It is easy to feel claustrophobic and lost in the Vatican Museums, even when following a straight path.  If you are not squished between people (who have just stopped to take photographs, not caring that there are many people stuck behind them), you are a little too close to ancient artwork.  Occasionally, people reach out and touch the sculptures, and I am amazed that there is not better security.  I suppose it is hard for even the guards to walk through such a tightly packed crowd.

            I’m honestly not sure what the Vatican Museum designer’s had in mind.  Had there been 90% less people, I could see how the set-up would be nice, allowing everyone to see the main attractions.  However, with a route set up and thousands of people pushing to get through it, it is hard to take the time to actually look at the art.  Even if a straight run to the Sistine Chapel was not your original intention, it quickly becomes your plan of action.  Being in the hordes of tourists and tours, you never feel sure of what you are doing.  You are an outsider, with no time to get familiar with any of the work that you pass.  The layout of the Vatican Museums is organized, but being on the path itself feels chaotic at best.

Giornali 4: Santa Maria in Aracoeli

            The front of the church of Santa Maria in Aracoeli is deceptively simple.  It has a funny shape, it looks like a pentagon, but the top two lines never meet.  Instead they jut upwards, making a square of the roof.  There are three doors, the center ones being the largest with a cross on top.  Directly above the doors are small windows: two circular windows above the side doors, and a slightly larger stain glass above the middle door.  On either side of each door are small circular panels that display either holy imagery or emblems.  A small cross stands above the middle door.  The entire thing seems to be made of finely layered brick, and is devoid of much color besides redish-brown.  The most noticeable attribute to the front of the church is the large row of stairs that leads up to it.  To get to this church, you need determination: you need to walk up 124 steps.

            According to the Mirabilia Urbis Romae, this church is at the location where the emperor Augustus saw a vision of the Mother Mary holding the Baby Jesus.  This gives the church its name ‘aracoeli,’ or ‘altar of heaven’.  Therefore, this church was a very popular place for pilgrims to visit, and is still a popular church today.  Due the plain façade, entering the church feels like entering another world.  Inside the church the lighting is dim, and the designs are spectacular and intricate.  The church, which did not look so large from the outside, suddenly seems gigantic.

            Walking along the left wall, I am met with a statue marking the tomb of a dead cardinal.  Looking down, I see more engravings of tombs in the ground.   It makes me a little uneasy, how many of them there are.  The engravings have fine detail, showing facial features and positions of the people down below.  They look like they are sleeping.  I cannot bring myself to walk over them, and instead walk around.  Looking at the paintings between the arches, I see one that is 3-D, made like a pop-out book.  It shows God coming out between the clouds.  There is so much detail I feel like I am dreaming; I can’t begin to take in how much there is.  I notice I am standing on an inlaid tomb and a make a frightened squeak, quickly jumping off and catching the attention of a man nearby me.

            In the right transept, there is a small altar shaped like a temple.  It has eight columns that go in a circle, and a small, painted statue in the center.  In the left transept, there are a series of tombs and fancy coffins.  I do not linger there long.

            In the back of the left side there is a room dedicated to a small statue of baby Jesus covered in jewels.  There is a stack of letters in front of him; apparently it is common for people to send the statue their wishes.  The real statue was said to be carved from a  famous olive tree, but it was stolen in the 1990’s and been replaced with a replica.  The stare of baby Jesus is a little frightening to me, since it seems to lack life.  As I am standing there, and man kneels down and crosses himself.  I automatically feel a strange sense of guilt, as if I should not be here thinking such un-pious thoughts.  Exactly as I begin to turn to leave, a man’s cell phone goes off, blasting a ring tone of Lady Gaga.  I feel a little bit better.

            Finally, I sit down in front of the high altar.  The altar is grand, and hard for the eye to take in all at once.  A series of white crystal chandeliers surround the altar, making it seem the highlight at a fancy party.  The altar itself holds a small painting of Jesus, and the painting is surrounded by gold designs.  Statues of angels flank the top of the marble altar, opening their hands to a golden emblem that looks like the sun.  On both sides of the altar there is a statue holding the bible, and a smaller bust of a man.  There is a grand organ behind the altar.  I spend a lot of time sitting there and looking at it.  I feel like no matter how long I look, I will never be able to make sense of the sheer amount of detail present in front of me.

            Eventually, I decide to get up.  I walk back down along the right wall, looking at the dark paintings hidden in each arch.  I avoid the graves on the floor and look at the ceiling, covered in gold.  I make my way back outside into the daylight, feeling like I just woke from a dream.

Momentary Blindness on the Aventine Hill

In the park on top of the Aventine Hill the wind is blowing fervently.  I can hear it rustling the leaves in the trees, and it whips my hair around my face.  The marble bench I sit on is cold, having been sitting in the shade, and the wind makes me shiver.  I can hear the sound of gravel beneath feet as people slowly walk by.  There are muffled voices in conversation, small quips of laughter and sounds of running.  The birds call to each other loudly, usually a small chirp, but occasionally a large squawk.  In a rare moment of silence, I can hear running water from a small drinking fountain near by.  It is quickly hidden again by the sound of a helicopter whirring up above.  The wind picks up again and I move into the sun.  The heat is automatic, the new bench warm.  The air smells fresh, a little like soil.  After a day of walking, I take a moment to relax.

Giornali 3: Palazzo Barberini

On Sunday Katy and I traveled to the Palazzo Barberini.  The palazzo was originally a palace for the Pope Urban VIII, but now it is  a museum for national antique art.  At first, when looking at it on the list of Individual visit sites, I misread Barberini as Bernini, and thought that the palazzo would showcase Bernini’s works or house.  I was pleasantly surprised to learn that the palazzo not only held works from Bernini, but various other artists as well.

The palazzo was easy to find, but hard to enter.  We ended up walking the long way around, making almost a complete circle, until we found the entrance.  Once we saw it, though, we realized it was hard to miss: there were two large open gates and a sign leading to the main building.  Right outside there was a modest fountain, with a simple oval design.  Following the signs, we found our way to a small side door that was the main entrance.

The Palazzo houses art from the 13^th century to the 18^th century.  In the first four rooms, there is a heavy focus on Christian imagery.  The very first room is filled with old 13^th century crosses, ones that would have once adorned the altar of a church.  The other three have a steady theme of the Madonna and child, with the occasional saint popping up.  Rooms 5 and 6 were closed, so we made our way to rooms 7 through 9 instead.  Those rooms contained more religious imagery, though the focus leaned more towards the saints than the mother Mary and baby Jesus. 

One image that caught my eye was called Pilgrims at the tomb of Saint Sebastian, and was painted by Josse Lieferinxe.  It depicted a bunch of crippled and wounded and sick people all coming to visit Saint Sebastian’s tomb.  Since I know nothing of Saint Sebastian, I was intrigued by the image.  Was he thought to be able to heal the sick?  There are so many people in the painting, I’m surprised they all fit in the canvas.

At the end of the hallway the paintings suddenly come to an abrupt end.  Statues and columns and a fountain, with a vision of the sky painted on the ceiling, replace them.  This room is called the hall of columns, and it was originally a dining room for the slaves in the palace.  Later it became a library, and in the 16^th century it was part of the palazzo Sforza.  At the front of the room, in the center, sits a fountain.  Lining the walls are two statues on either side, and parallel to them, a little further back, are two rows of columns, two columns each.  Behind each row of columns sit a vase.  The entire room is very symmetrical, and an interesting break from the other work.

To get to the rest of the gallery, Katy and I have to go outside and take the Bernini staircase up to the second floor.  As soon as you enter, there is a statue of a grown woman, looking desperate, holding two small children that cling to her with terrified expressions.  It is a little unsettling.  The staircase was, as the name suggests, created by Bernini, and two statues sit in the wall above every platform.  The statues on the first platform are both naked men who appear to be warriors: one holds a giant club, the other a bear mask.  They are facing each other as if having a conversation.  I felt like that gave them personality.

After the many platforms of statues, we finally reach galleries 10 through 24, though only rooms ten through fifteen turn out to be open.  In those five rooms, the tone focuses a little less on Christianity, incorporating Roman myths and occasional portraits.  One such portrait is La Fornarina by Rafael.  It is supposedly a painting of the woman he loves, and she wears a band around her arm that clearly holds his name, as if she is his possession.  I like the paintings on the second floor more, and am upset that many of the rooms are closed.  Oh, well, I suppose I’ll have to come back another time!

Voyeur: Piazza Navona; Lady in white

There is a women dressed all in white.  Her hair is a light brown, cut so close to her head that it barely touches her neck.  She wears amber-shaded glasses and carries a focused, serious expression.  Wrinkles collect near her eyes as she squints in the sun; she looks to be around her late middle ages.  Slowly, she walks around the Fountain of the Four Rivers, holding her video camera up and recording as she makes her way.  She is not here alone: rather, she is part of a tour group.  She has blue headphones in her ears, which lead to a small blue headset on her chest that allows her to hear her tour guide from far away.

At the moment her tour guide is silent, and she takes that minute to explore the Piazza Navona on her own.  However, she would rather stay near the fountain, the thing that most catches her eye.  Once she has finished her roundabout, she meets up again with the rest of the group.  As other people get their picture taken in front of the fountain she shies away.  Politely, she stands on the sidelines watching.  She has her recording, and that is all she needs.

This is her first time in Rome, and she is traveling on her own.  Her family is back in Spain, and she wants to show her young grandchildren what she has seen.  She figures video is the best way to do that.  She thinks of the stories she will tell them and she smiles.  Her tour group is getting ready to leave, all of them speaking quietly in Spanish.  She takes one last look at the fountain before smiling at her camera.  And then she is gone from sight, down another street in Rome.

Giornali 2: Campo de' Fiori

The Campo de’ Fiori snuck up on me, or it did the first time I went to see it.  I wasn’t sure exactly where I was going; all I knew was that I was walking along winding streets in the right general direction of the piazza.  Then, as if out of nowhere, the small streets opened up, and in front of me were a series of markets selling fruit and food and clothes.  It was loud and busy, filled to the brim with people.   The fruit stalls came first, mixed in with a little dry fruit and household item booths.  Following that came vegetables and trinket stalls, more fruit and two pasta booths.  A couple of clothing sellers were dispersed throughout.  A little off from the main market, leaving enough room for cars to drive through, are two stalls selling flowers.  Restaurants and food shops surround the markets. 

The day was so hot, it made the fruit look too good to pass up.  You could buy fruit cups for a quick snack, or package some up yourself to take home (or eat out of a box, your choice).  I got a fruit cup after searching each fruit stall for the one I thought looked the best.  The markets are covered by tents, providing shade and making the space seem as if enclosed.  The vendors yell out as you pass, shouting things like “T-shirts, T-shirts, cheap”, “Pasta!  Preggo!  Pasta” and “look, look”.  Walking through, I felt like I could get lost in all the hustle and bustle.  I loved it.

Even though I live in New York City, and have experienced things like the farmer’s market, there is something different about the markets at the Campo de’ Fiori.  I’m not really sure as to what it is; perhaps it is the tightness of it, the loud mix of languages, the diversity of what is being sold.  Perhaps it is all of these things and more.  Either way, I found the markets endearing.  I was in Rome, really in Rome, not anywhere else.

At one end of the piazza, the one opposite I entered from, there is a fountain.  It is not small, but compared to some of the other fountains I’ve seen in Rome, it is not big, either (and it is nothing compared to the Trevi).  It is shaped like an oval, and has a smaller oval rising out of it.  I begin eating my fruit while taking a break near it.  I see a man come and wash his hands.  I wonder if even the water in all the fountains is fit for drinking?  From the fountain, I am able to see a statue standing above the markets in the middle of the piazza.  I am shocked that I didn't notice it before!  I must have been too caught up in the markets looking at the wares.  The statue is of a man named Giordano Bruno.  I later found out that he was a philosopher who was burned alive for believing things that countered the beliefs of the church.  The story is rather morose, yet it doesn’t damper the feel for the markets as it currently stands.

I want to see the Camp de’ Fiori at night, when the markets are gone and there is just a large empty space.  I wonder if it will be as magical then.  I wonder if Giordano Bruno will then be able to shine.  I really love the Campo de’ Fiori, with its vibrancy of color and constant movement of people and food.

Ekphrasis in Galleria Borghese: Bozzetto per il monumento equestre del Re Luigi XIV

Luigi XIV, or who I assume to be Luigi XIV, rides a horse that looks wild, as if it is about to take a leap.  Its back legs are bent and its front legs are outstretched; its head is wheeling back with its eyes wide open, and its mane flies around its neck.  The terracotta that the sculpture is made of has left swirling textures around the horse’s muscles, and volume in the mane and tale.  The horse is frozen in a state of movement, and looks as though it would start to gallop away if given the chance.  Luigi XIV, on the other hand, looks poised and in control, a look of serious determination on his face.  He keeps his balance though he does not grip the horse in any way.  Instead, his right arm is stretched downwards, gripping tightly to a small pole of some sort, making his joints look tense.  His left arm is bent upwards, and over it folds a cloth that wraps around his body and ends in his lap, the folds blowing backwards in the wind.  His face is framed by long, wavy locks, which are carved into the terracotta in such a way that they seem to be slightly wind-tousled.  His eyes are looking away from the horse, as if into the far of distance.  His chest is bare, though under the cloth on his lap you can see hints of armor.  On his feet, too, are warrior’s sandals.  He seems overall unconcerned with the wild nature of his horse.

Giornali 1: Santa Maria in Trastevere

The church of Santa Maria in Transtevere is old, and the fading paint and browning sculptures on the façade show it.  It looks small and cramped, pressed between two other, larger, buildings.  In a way, it appears both majestic and eerie, as if abandoned despite still being in constant use.  The inside, too, seems old yet glorious.  There is very little light streaming in from the windows, so the entire church seems dark.  It smells slightly of a musky scent, and a soft recording of a singing choir can be heard.  The church is not too large inside, but every inch of it is covered with intricate designs.  There are things to look at everywhere, and the darkness causes you to look longer, and harder, at everything you pass. 

Along the right wall, a display catches my eye.  It is a bronze statue of Jesus on the cross, and beneath him is a bust of the mother Mary.  He is dark, while she is lit up.  There is something terrifying about it to me, yet captivating at the same time.  His face is in agony, blood streaming from his side, while her hands are clasped and a pious smile is on her face.  It seems to fit well together at the same time that it does not.

The main altar contains a small painting of Jesus, and is made of red and white marble.  There is a cross on top, and another cross along with a bible on the desk below the altar, where I assume the priest might stand.  Other than those small details, the altar is simple, perhaps the most straight forward object in the church.

The simple altar, however, is beneath a very grand mosaic that makes up for the altars humbleness.  On the top of the arch, the mosaic shows Jesus in the center of eight men, four on either side.  Perhaps they are the apostles?  While I was taking a break and sitting in the pews gazing at the main altar, the lights began to go on.  The sudden ability to see the mosaics surprises me.  There is so much detail in them that it is astounding.  I can see now that beneath Jesus and the apostles are a series of sheep, and beneath that are angels.  The mosaic is so delicate, with such small pieces and so much gold and color. 

I admit I am not religious, and don’t understand many of the intricacies of the Catholic faith.  I do believe, though, that the sheer detail of the church, the grandeur of it, is meant to be overwhelming and awe striking.  And by doing those things, perhaps be a little frightening as well.  While sitting there, in Santa Maria in Trastevere, I feel a little uneasy.  I am fascinated by it all, and find it beautiful.  But at the same time it is something that I can’t quite grasp, and some of the strong imagery frightens me a little.  Honestly, there is nothing quite like sitting there, looking at the mosaics behind the main altar, feeling the overwhelming grandeur of the church.

Question and Answer on the Palatine

There is a lot about the palatine that can be confusing, as there are a series of ruins of a great house that's creation has spanned decades, and it is hard to tell one part from the other.  On top of that, the ruins did not seem to be labeled, as far as I could see, and the maps so sparse it is easy to get lost.  Often only able to figure out where I was after a couple of times circling the same place, I came across something that truly baffled me.  A good deal below the ground level where I was standing there were ruins of something that looked somewhat like a racetrack.  I had never heard of a racetrack in the Domus Augustana/Flavia, which is where the rectangular ruin was located, and it was definitely too small to be the circus maximus.  I was truly confused about what it could be.  After looking in the blue book (which has a map of the entire palatine, making it a little bit more manageable regardless of not counting for the multiple different levels it seems to have), I was able to figure it out.  Apparently, it is not a racetrack at all, but actually the remains of a sunken garden.  It is in the style of a hippodrome, which is what caused the confusion.  Apparently it dates back to the time of Domitian; it was my favorite part of the old ruins to see.

Ekphrasis in the Capitoline Museums - Gladiatore Di Monnot

The Gladiator is perched as if lying over a fallen victim, his hand raised in the air, clutching his sword as if ready to deliver the final blow.  Yet there is nothing below him but the ground and the sheath to his sword, and his face betrays the rest of his actions.  His head is positioned upwards, looking at his arm that holds the blade.  His face has a subtle expression, mouth slightly in a frown and eyebrows that look a touch furrowed.  Unlike the typical gladiator, he is wearing nothing besides a shield on his left arm, which is propped up against a small stump of a tree.  His sword sheath looks discarded and almost broken, lying on what appears to be a relatively barren surface, spare two plants (one which his knee rests on and another on the edge of the base) and the tree stump.  His shield has no engravings on the outside, and a basic rim of patterns on the inside.  He appears young and muscular, and the entire statue is made of white marble, giving him a feeling of power, of something majestic.  Yet everything about him seems to contradict himself.  His body looks as though ready to go in for the kill, yet there is no one beneath him and his face looks conflicted.  He is youthful, but rests on a tree stump, as if his shield is too heavy for him alone.  He is a gladiator, except he wears no armor.  Nothing about him seems to make sense.

I wonder what it is he is thinking.

(His sword, which was whole at the time of his creation, has been broken sometime in the course of history, and is now missing.  Perhaps that is why he looks forlorn.)

Place and Space in the Roman Forum

The roman forum was hard for me to navigate at first, since you are forced to enter from the Vie Dei Fori Imperiali, where as my mental map pictures the forum as entered by the colosseum.  The expanive amount of ruins that you are automatically met with is more than a little overwhelming.  The entrance point places you between the remains of the Temple of Antoninus and Faustina (which are under restoration) and the Basilica Amelia, facing the collections of stone that were once was the temple of Julius Caesar.  From there you are allowed to proceed various ways along the ancient roads, with the ruins blocked off by gates.  Since we can walk through the forum on the same routes that the ancient Romans once did, it makes the forum in Roman times easier to imagine.  For our walk, we started near the Basilica of Maxentius and Constantine, which one would pass if entering from the colosseum, allowing me to start up my mental map again.

There is definitely a feeling of layering in the Roman Forum.  On higher up areas, ruins of structures such as the temple of Saturn and the curia watch over the others beneath them.  Since the forum was worked and reworked for so many centuries, the ruins seem somewhat cluttered, and with out prior knowledge or a guide, it can be hard to identify where one ruin ends and another begins.  Luckily, each structure is visible from the main ancient roads, and follows the ancient layout, so you can match it up.  I figure that identification would have been much easier in ancient times, but I still believe the forum would have seemed both chaotic and organized at the same time.

I also feel like the forum has been arranged to cater towards tourists.  Stray marble lies in corners and bends along the wider parts of the paths, allowing tourists to sit and observe, while feeling in some way a part of the ruins.   Trees also line the roads and cover many empty areas.  I wonder if those trees were always in the forum, or if they came later, once the forum was excavated and turned into a historic park.  Either way, they provide a good amount of shade to rest in.  I tried to imagine what it must have been like to be an ancient Roman bustling through, but no matter what I felt like a tourist.  Visiting historical monuments does not seem to be a normal pastime of a typical Roman citizen, and it was impossible to ignore the crowds of people speaking a multitude of different languages.  Traveling through the forum I felt like an outsider, but that was okay.  I was happy to marvel at temple remains get a little lost along the way.

Pre-departure Travel Writing

            I can still remember the single day I spent in Rome back in high school.  It was on an Education First tour that took a small group of kids from my school, mixed with three other schools, on a tour around Paris and seven areas in Italy in a week.  By the time we got to Rome I was tired from a week of constant traveling and little sleep, and was hungry from a lack of breakfast.  I was resisting falling asleep on the bus that was the majority of our trip, when we came to a stop and filed out for a quick walk to see the Colosseum.  I saw an arch nearby, and took pictures of it, with no idea what it was.  I know now, after this class, that it was the arch of Constantine.  Climbing up the Colosseum and walking around inside of it was amazing.  Without really knowing what anything was, I wanted to soak up and see as much as I could.  Looking out from one of the Colosseum’s arches, I saw the remains of a temple in the distance.  It was the remains of the temple of Venus and Roma, but I had no idea then.  Leaving the Colosseum we took a bus ride over to the Trevi fountain.  I didn’t know where I was in Rome, or what was going on, but I tried to take pictures of everything I passed.  The Trevi Fountain was beautiful, and the water very blue.  We threw in coins and I took pictures with my friends (in which we look like we’re all about to fall asleep).  I never would have imagined doing a presentation on the Trevi two years later, nor would I have expected all the stories written in the architecture and the past.  From the Trevi we walked quickly to the Piazza Navona, where the school groups were allowed to split up and given about an hour of free time.  We walked around the piazza once, and stopped at the fountain of the four rivers and our tour guide explained that each man represented a river of the world.  I thought it was fascinating, but did not have the time to linger.  We got gelato (as I did in every place in Italy we went to), and then briskly walked to the Spanish steps.  It was too quick to see anything on the way, and when we got there, it looked like a mountain of people.  With twenty minutes to spare, my teacher took a couple of us to see the catacombs, running all the way.  Out of breath, (and after almost getting hit by a car), we filed down into the catacombs as silently as we could (though the site does help you in this task, being somewhat breathtakingly morose and beautiful at the same time).  Afterwards we ran back to the meeting place (I have no idea where exactly, but there was an obelisk), and scrambled on to the tour bus to head to the Vatican.  We run through the Vatican museum to see the Sistine Chapel, and then entered St. Peter’s, rushing through it in ten minutes.  The place was so large, I almost got lost.  I wanted so badly to see more of it.  Walking quickly out through St. Peter’s square, I barely have time to look at anything before we were back on the bus for a group dinner on the outskirts of Rome before returning to the hotel.

            I had no idea what was going on.  All I knew was that I wanted to go back one day and understand what I was doing.  When the chance came up to go on a travel seminar at Skidmore, I jumped at it.  I wanted to understand the history behind what I saw, I wanted to understand the culture and the politics that created these buildings and monuments.  I wanted a real sense of what Rome was, and is.  I saw so many wonderful things, but I had no idea what they were.  From this class, I’ve learned that each monument and each building has an important place in the history and culture of Rome.  To me, while I was there, Rome was nothing but a tourist destination.  After this course, and after all of the readings we’ve done, I’ve been able to see all the different opinions people have on Rome.  No one has the same experience.

            All I knew about Rome before this course were the basics: Rome was once a great empire.  The Roman Empire moved to Constantinople with Constantine, and became Christian.  I knew a little about Julius Caesar, and a little bit about Augustus.  I knew that Romulus and Remus are said to have founded Rome and been protected by a wolf (as it was one of the things that the tour guide told me).  I didn’t know anything about the architecture, or how the architecture of Rome was always tied to its politics.  Augustus wanted to make the city fit for an empire.  His organization and building programs were set not only to enhance the Empire, but enhance his position as a benevolent dictator.  Over a century later, Mussolini did the same thing, unearthing the ruins of the past to display the continuity of Rome as a strong, beautiful empire.  I knew nothing of Rome after the Roman Empire except for Italy’s inclusion in the World Wars.  Learning about the Jewish experience in Rome was fascinating.  Nothing in Italy, I have learned, is black and white.  Rather, everything about it is shades of gray, layered from past to present, all at once.

            I know that when I return to Rome, this time for two weeks, I will know where I am.  I have a map of the city in my head; I know the hills and the basic layout.  I will be able to recognize the buildings and monuments I see, and even know the history.  I will understand what lies behind the city I see, both in the eyes of the people and the eyes of history.  When I return to Rome, I will be able to understand it just a little bit more, understand the culture and the history just a little bit more, than I did before.

            Flashing ahead two weeks, I am standing in the foyer of St. John’s, where we are staying.  The entire class has gathered, and Dan and Jackie are talking, preparing us for our first walk.  I want gelato.  I want to go outside.  I want to go to sleep.  I want to eat pizza and pasta and go to a fancy restaurant that I wish I had the money for.  I want to go see the Roman forum and the Trevi fountain and go up someplace high so I can see the city from an Arial view.  I and want to see all the cats roaming around, even though I know I’ll end up taking too many pictures and forget to look at the monuments surrounding them.  And I feel like my mind is moving much faster than my body at this point, which is feeling very sluggish and a little time-confused.  Katy, who is next to me, is sleepy too, having gotten much less rest on the plane than I did (since I get sick on them and make myself sleep to avoid it).  I realize that Dan and Jackie have stopped talking and now we’re moving, but I’m not sure what was said except for the destination, the Campo de Fiori.  I’m far too excited (and tired) to pay attention.

            Outside it is hot, and I’m upset that I have to wear clothes that cover my shoulders and knees (since I’d rather be in a summer dress).  The heat makes me want gelato even more, and as we walk I scope the streets for a place to get some later.  Katy looks at me, and can guess what it is I am looking for, and points to one a little down the road.  I tell her we’ll have to go later.  As we walk along I take a look at every building we pass, wondering if Rome near the Vatican is going to be different than Rome near the ancient city.  My feet feel funny against the pavement, light and airy, even though my body feels heavy.  Eventually we come to pass the Castel Sant’Angelo, which used to be the mausoleum of Hadrian.  I remember seeing it last time I was in Rome, though at the time I had absolutely no idea what it was.  I wonder what happened to Hadrian’s body.  To me the structure looks somewhat like a ship, about to enter the Tiber, but the structure is actually rather round rather than ship-like.  We stop briefly so that Dan and Jackie can point it out.  When we had split up the structures to research for the midterm, Katy had gotten the Mausoleum of Hadrian.  Looking at it now makes me think of that night we spent in our dorm room, talking about the structures we had to prepare a study sheet for.  It is much nicer to see in person, I decide, and not on a computer screen.

            We cross over the Tiber, and the green water freaks me out a little bit.  Still, I’m looking forward to entering the area of ancient Rome.  I continue to look at all the buildings we pass.  The streets are crowded with what I assume are mostly tourists, making there way from one monument to the next.  I hear bits and pieces of conversations that are only sometimes in a language I can recognize.  The heat mixed with the plane-induced confusion make the walk extremely tiresome, and by the time the Campo Di Fiori comes into sight I am somewhat delirious.  The Campo Di Fiori has cafes and shops and markets with fresh fruit and I want it all.  The hustle and bustle of the place causes me to realize that I am really here, really in Rome.  We wander around the place and Dan and Jackie give us a little speech and then a moment to explore.  Katy and I excitedly hurry and buy some gelato before settling into a slower, observing pace.  I want to buy all sorts of foods, but I don’t have the money to do it so I just look at everything longingly.  The gelato is wonderfully sweet and cold and I’m hoping the sugar will kick in and I’ll have more energy to continue.  I am deliriously excited to see more of Rome.