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.