Voyeur: Giuseppe

     His wife was helping him along the shady side of the Piazza Navona.  Giuseppe was very tan with dark hair and dressed extremely well.  He wore a grey suit with a crisp white shirt and a black tie.  Even with his wife’s help he struggled to walk.  They stopped at a bench right beside where Curley was reapplying his SPF 70.  There were plenty of people casually dressed around, especially that early in the morning but not Giuseppe.  At seventy-five years old, this man wakes up every morning and puts on his suit and tie no matter how much of a struggle it must be.  They sat quietly on the bench for a while watching the young men bustle to set up the restaurants.  She began to talk at him, not really to him.  He clearly was not listening.  Then, silence again.  He was definitely Roman, born and raised in this city.  He likes to come to the Piazza Navona to do exactly what I was doing.  Watch the people.  His wife began to talk again but he still wasn’t listening.  The sounds of the fountain are why he loves to come here.  They stood up and began to walk away.  Maybe to church, maybe not.  

Giornale 2: San Pietro in Vincoli

     Our journey to the Church of St. Peter in Chains started with our one and only morning off.  Jordan, Emily and I headed for Vero: Food to Move and finally got a healthy breakfast.  Emily convinced me to try pineapple in my yoghurt and it was delicious.  Something amazing happened after that: the cashier mistook me for an Italian.  So exciting.  The slight tan I’ve gotten since being here and Italian 101 are clearly paying off.  After breakfast we decided that one stop on the metro would take us to Cavour, which is just around the corner from the church. 

     The ride on the metro was cool and pleasant because we weren’t traveling in such a large group being herded like cattle.  We hopped of at Cavour and we were on our way.  We headed toward what we thought must be the church.  There was a beautiful metal cross on top of the steeple and it was up quite a few stairs.  When we got to the front of the church it said “Chiesa de San Francesco.”  Not what we were looking for.  We headed up the second flight of stairs and saw a building off to the right with a bunch of tourists but no indication of what it was.  So, we headed back down the steps for another look at the map. 

     There was a gigantic domed church across the street so we thought “THIS HAS TO BE IT,” and b-lined it for the dome.  We looked inside and noticed a gigantic sign that read “Chiesa de Madonna dei Monti.”  Wrong again.  This church was beautiful but not on our list.  Finally I figured out how to ask where San Pietro in Vincoli was and it turns out it was the unmarked building…all the way up the stairs….again.

     Inside the church was calm and serene.  It wasn’t very crowded in the front part but there was a large mass of people toward the back.  I walked over to the center part of the altar and looked down the stairs.  There in a golden box were the supposed chains that imprisoned St. Peter.  But what interested me the most in this church was just over to my right.  It was Michelangelo’s Moses.

     This statue is the central work of the tomb of Pope Julius II.  It was carved in white marble and completed in 1545.  Moses is holding the Ten Commandments and is draped in a robe.  His beard is long and curly and reaches his waistline.  The most recognizable features however are the horns on top of his head.  They aren’t pointy or devilish.  Just animalistic.  Dan later explained to me that the translation of the bible that Michelangelo used as a description of Moses had a miss translation from the original Hebrew to Latin.  Instead of the description being translated as “rays of sunlight” it was translated as “horns.” 

    This was extremely interesting to me personally because I am Jewish.  The surprisingly common myth that ‘Jews have horns’ has always interested me and I have a feeling that this statue may have had something to do with it. 

     Our walk from San Pietro in Vincoli to San Giovanni in Laterano was sunny and beautiful.  We sat outside by the obelisk (originally located in the Circus Maximus) waiting for the group for ten minutes before realizing we were at the back of the church.  But, have no fear, we found Dan and everyone inside respectfully admiring the marble and gold that was inside.  Jordan and I met a wonderfully good-hearted nun in the gift shop.  She followed us out and at first we thought we had done something wrong, but she just said “Attenzione!” because she saw a man following us and got nervous! Just goes to show, not all Europeans hate American tourists!

Giornale 1: The Baths of Caracalla

     After our group visit to the Palatine and a brief run in with Ke$ha, Jordan and I walked to the Baths of Caracalla.  Our walk there was around fifteen minutes and Jackie pointed us in the right direction and told us what Metro stops to take home.  One important thing to mention about or walk there is what we saw at the Circus Maximus.  The site of the Circus Maximus is undergoing some construction, but even if it weren’t, it is a sad sight to see.  The sides are boarded up and what little grass remains is dead or covered in dog poop.  This was a key site of entertainment for the ancient world.  It makes me wonder, what happened?

     On first approach the Baths of Caracalla are gigantic.  When we got to the entrance we realized that they were even bigger than gigantic.  The high brick walls and sheer size of the property was imposing.  They were clearly an important place for ancient Romans.  Just as we came through the gate, those four o’clock ominous grey clouds began to role in.  We said we were going to give this solo excursion a maximum life span of twenty minutes then go nap away the rain. 

     Once we got inside, I realized that the ruins weren’t particularly well preserved but they were certainly impressive.  The most intriguing parts of these ruins were the incredible mosaics that managed to survive this long.  Most of them were broken and just chunks, but like everything else on this site those chunks were massive. 

      First, we saw the floor mosaics and tiles.  They were patterned with red, white, yellow and green cone shapes.  They almost looked like fish scales.   We then came across some black and white chunks of mosaic.  These were most likely the bottom parts of the design because all that was left were feet. All the mosaics were black and white except for the floor.  As we got deeper and deeper into the complex, we could see more fragments of mosaics. These were more elaborate.  In these mosaics we could see horses, serpents, full-bodied people and even some foliage.  Jordan and I were SO excited by this.  We tried to identify all the scenes and place them into myths.  We failed, but it was still really fun.  It ended up being an hour and fifteen minute excursion!

      Exploring a site on our own was such an adventure.  Jordan and I discussed the pros and cons of doing group tours and seeing the sights on our own.  We decided we liked the freedom to roam at our own pace and down any route we please.  The downside was that we both had our faces buried in the Blue Guide (a fabulous help) instead of just being able to tap into Dan or Jackie’s encyclopedia-like minds. 

     Once it really started to rain we headed for the Metro and were smiling the whole ride back.  Both because of our new knowledge of roman baths, and the fact that we were on the right train.  

Ekphrasis: Sleeping Love

      The first thing that caught my eye in the Borghese Gallery was Eros Dormitente, a sculpture of Eros (Cupid) sleeping.  Eros is sometimes portrayed as a young man with his lover Psyche.   Here he is depicted as an adorable baby boy with light, feathery wings lying on the ground fast asleep.  His peaceful facial expression and perfectly relaxed position let us know he is having sweet dreams.  Here, he is the perfect baby boy.  He dreams lightly, ready to wake at any moment and carry out his designated task.  Slightly chubby and silently happy, he dreams of bringing love to the world.  His white marble skin only perfects him further.  The sculpture was one of many works that depicted sleeping children.  There was also a sleeping boy by Alessandro Alguardi and Tre putti dormienti done by an anonymous artist.  As creepy as it sounds, I loved every single one.  

Q and A: The Palatine

Where is the glamour?  The Palatine Hill used to hold the palaces (that’s where we get the word from by the way) of the emperors Augustus, Tiberius, Domitian and Nero (pre 64 when he played the fiddle, more accurately the lyre, as Rome burnt to the ground.)  These were the houses of the richest and most powerful people in Rome.  Why can’t I tell?  Who was responsible for preserving the ruins and protecting the ancient site?  Whoever they were, they did not do a very good job.  Don’t get me wrong, the condition is amazing and the current upkeep of the ruins is fantastic, but where did all that wealth go?

We did not get a chance to see the house of Livia, the section of the palace the emperor Augustus dedicated to and built for his wife, so I may not have been able to see some of the intricate decoration I hope remains, but I just couldn’t help feeling confused by the neglect of the earlier periods.  

Ekphrasis: Statue of My (definitely) Drunk (possible) Ancestor

     You would think a statue of a drunken old lady would be merry, even charming.  You would imagine that rosy cheeks and a stupid smile might fill her face.  But the Statue of a Drunken Old Women in the Capitoline Museum is not what you would expect. 

     She sits cross-legged, with one leg uncomfortably tucked underneath the other.  Her clothes are falling off her shoulders and draping around her on the floor.  Her arms are rather youthful as they tightly embrace a jug of wine, as if she is holding on for dear life.  Her face is the most striking and emotional part of the sculpture.  She is wrinkled.  The years and years of alcohol finally took their toll.  She is desperately looking to the gods for guidance in her drunken stupor but her face tells us there is no hope.  Just looks like she is gonna have to sleep this one off. 

Space and Place: Day 1.5

           The ruins of the Roman Forum felt like Central Park to me. The silent tourists walking the directed and clear cut paths were all too familiar. No New Yorkers go to Central Park just to walk around. Unless we are working out. So basically, I never go.  The gaggles of Italian youth learning about their heritage reminded me of a fourth grade trip to the Metropolitan Museum of Art.  The bus was late picking us up, so we all just played in Central Park and learned about the monuments. That is the only reason I know about any statues there.

The streets of the Roman Forum have encountered many historically famous footsteps; but, today, they felt trampled upon as children screamed and our group sluggishly slid through the drizzling rain and humidity.  But, even through the sore feet and waning interest, the historical excitement gets me every time.  Earlier, when we stood where the statues of Cleopatra, Venus and Caesar were in the Temple of Venus Genetrix, I could feel the deceitful and crazy energy of the golden idol to Cleopatra surging through my feet, and not just the broken one.  The same goes for the Forum.  The hustle and bustle of the daily life of the ancient Roman was present, even through all the distractions.  Sunburn aside, it was a wonderful introduction. 

Viviamo a Roma

It’s hard to imagine the first hour of our trip after everything we have done this semester…I guess I’ll just start with the obvious:

          Of course, I was the last one out the door.  Nothing has changed since I was at summer camp and won the last one out of the bunk award for ten years straight.  “Looookin’ fabulous! Viviamo a Roma!” I yelled up ahead to Jordan, who was wearing an adorably appropriate sundress for this gorgeous Italian afternoon.  I took a look around and paused - we were here in Rome - then I realized I was about twenty feet behind everyone else.  I scrambled up to the group and tried to take it all in.  Alissa was already joking about finding a Paolo…or maybe our very own Tony DiNozzo, and I could hear Jackie and Dan already starting to bicker.  “Jackie, what did I say about sandals?  You are going to be so uncomfortable. We have quite the walk and I am not going to wait for you to pray to the Roman god of comfort.” That was Dan.  “Dan, I’ve already given up my heels, I am not sacrificing my pedicure too.   It is just too nice.” Jackie said, only half kidding. 

      Rome was amazing amazing.  I had been daydreaming about it for months.  I was so pleased with myself for being able to identify every column, every façade, every building.  I was constantly distracted by the sights, sounds and smells of Rome.  As a perspective Paolo vroomed his motorino and winked, the sun touched the top of my head as we crossed the Tiber.  It was the exact moment Dan had been  fearing, and it was beautiful. 

         As we made our way to the Campo dei Fiori, my stomach grumbled.  I hadn’t eaten much on the plane unless you count half a banana and an ambien.  I immediately started to think about all the incredible food I would get to eat for the next two weeks.  Fresh made pasta, delicious cheesy pizza, fresh mozzarella and tomato caprese salad! I could not wait to eat. 

       When we got to the Campo dei Fiori, I was in ecstasy.  It was every food lover’s dream and full of dedicated Italian shoppers with net bags for their goods hanging from their wrists.  The vegetables were worthy of a Metropolitan Museum exhibit.  I had never seen anything so perfect and beautiful.  One stall held only herbs, and I stood there for a minute inhaling the scents of basil, oregano, and prezzemolo (parsley).  Another one sold baby artichokes already roasted and ready to eat.  Those artichokes were the first purchase of many, because I went on to buy peaches, strawberries, little mozzarella balls, and the freshest focaccia I’ve ever tasted in my life. 

       At this point I had lost track of everyone, because I was lost in my gastronomic haze.  But the cries of Dan and Jackie finally pierced through my bliss and I rejoined the group.  We were on to the next destination, even if I had to waddle there.  

The Romance of CC:265

     Some people romanticize Paris.  I’ve always romanticized Rome.  Even before I visited Rome for the first time, it had taken hold of my imagination in a way I find hard to explain.  I’ve always loved mythology and stories of classical Rome.  Then I read lots of historical novels that take place in renaissance Italy.  When I finally got to see Rome, it was love at first sight.  I was there only for one day, as part of a student trip, and I hated being dragged away from a city that I really wanted to explore.

     I registered for CC:265 because I was already plotting my return to Rome.  I even took Italian 101 this semester so I would have a little head start in understanding Italian conversations.  Reading and Writing Rome was not exactly what I expected, but it turned out to be even better.  We went through the entire fascinating history of Rome, even including the Risorgimento, which for some reason interests me; maybe it is because Garibaldi and Mazzini planned the uprising in Staten Island.  

I can't begin to quantify how much I learned about Ancient Rome.  I think that I will be able to recognize every ancient monument we come across, and I will certainly be able to trace my steps, as long as we stay on the ancient roads.   I’m sure I will be lost in the little modern alley ways.  And can I say that RomeReborn is one cool website.  I just read a biography of Cleopatra, and thanks to this class, I knew every place that was mentioned in the book. 

I kind of wish we had spent more time on Renaissance and Baroque Rome, because I don’t feel as familiar with that Rome as I do with classical Rome.  But honestly, there is just so much history in Rome that it is impossible to cover everything.  One thing is sure: I will absolutely recognize the Urbis Romae from Curley’s extreme excitement when we arrive. 

On my father’s side, we are Sephardic Jews who left Spain in 1492.  Legend has it that our ancestors stopped for a while in Italy, on their way to Greece.  I have no way of knowing if they stayed in Rome, but if they did, it would have been in the Jewish Ghetto.  Visiting the Jewish Ghetto is going to be very interesting for me.  Besides, I have to report back to my grandmother.