Envoi

View of Rome from the Villa Medici

Sitting in my house in Larchmont, New York it’s hard to believe my two weeks in Rome are actually over. After a semester of preparation, my time in the Eternal City was densely packed and definitely rewarding, but the days flew by. By the middle of the first week I had established my own routine and adjusted to the time zone and cultural differences (like simply ordering a coffee) and leaving on Sunday I felt like that routine abruptly ended. Even the plane ride back was strange because many of my classmates stayed behind in Europe for their own separate travels. Now that I’m home and looking through all the pictures I took – 1,409 to be exact – I am missing Rome but also incredibly grateful for the experience. I have never been abroad for a period as long as two weeks, and I definitely had never been better prepared to immerse myself in a new culture. My semester of Elementary Italian I paid off in the short conversations I was able to carry with locals and CC 265’s brutal midterm and less painful final paid off in nearly every moment, from understanding the physical layout of the city to interpreting a work of art in one of the museums we visited.

My favorite sites that I saw were, in no particular order, the Galleria Borghese, the Protestant Cemetery and Keats-Shelley House, the Colosseum, and the Vatican Necropolis.  The Galleria Borghese was the most beautiful and impressive museum I have ever visited. The Bernini sculptures on the first floor alone would be sufficiently awe-inspiring, but the second floor’s rooms upon rooms of paintings and frescoes made the entire day surreal. I am almost grateful that the museum did not allow any photography, because now I will only have the memories of my initial reactions to the works I saw. The Protestant Cemetery and Keats-Shelley House were both exciting because they provided tangible connections to my favorite poet John Keats. After researching the Cemetery for my group project with Amari and Emily, I was surprised by how peaceful the grounds were despite all the famous individuals buried there. The Colosseum, despite how over-hyped or cliché it may seem, also surprised me. The first time we took the Metro to the Colosseo stop and walked outside I was surprised by its size and location right in the middle of the city. And our guided tour of the lower and very upper levels gave me a better idea of its scale and architectural magnificence. Lastly, the Vatican Necropolis was the most exclusive-feeling excursion our group went on. Our dramatic tour guide made every detail feel like an important secret that only we were lucky enough to be let in on.

In addition to these very memorable physical sites, I will always cherish the time I got to spend walking around the city on my own or with just a couple friends. Without our large group getting stares (and sometimes glares) from non-tourists for our sheer size, I felt completely comfortable stopping in stores or taking the Metro as if I were truly Roman. Even when I was physical tired and my feet were sore from our morning sight seeing, I tried to make use of every moment of free time to be outside.

Over the summer I will miss spending every day with our group of “Rome kids” exploring the city. I’ll miss my daily (or twice daily) cups of gelato, the mozzarella di bufala, prosciutto, and delicious pasta. After two weeks in Rome and seeing most of its famous landmarks, I am satisfied with the trip but I know I have to return some day soon. 

Giornale 5: Chiesa del Gesu

I was originally planning on going on my final solo excursion the same day that I went to Keats-Shelley House, but I overestimated my energy and was forced to push it to my last day in Rome. Saturday morning Emily and I decided that we wanted to return to Sant’Eustachio, the deservingly well-known coffee shop that we visited as a group after walking through the Piazza Navona. After we bought ground coffee to bring back to our families and savored our last Roman cappuccino, we walked to the Chiesa Del Gesu, one of the sites on the “big churches” list. I have to admit that as I was walking, I was less than excited about seeing another church. I thought to myself about all the churches we had visit over the course of the two weeks and felt like they were all beginning to blend together in my mind. I also thought about how I had already seen such beautiful and grand churches like St. Peter’s Basilica, the Sistine Chapel, and the Basilica of St. John Lateran, and wondered how a church I had never heard of could possibly compare. Walking into the Church, my first reaction was that the lighting was much dimmer than other churches I had seen. Even though there were plenty of windows at the top, light didn’t seem to pour in the way it did in most of the other places of worship we had been in. At the entrance of the Church I glanced at a visual guide map to the Church’s chapels and niches; I was surprised to see that there were two tombs (to Saint Ignatius of Loyola and Saint Joseph Maria Pignatelli). After orienting myself with these facts that I may not have realized on my own, I began to walk around the Church and see all of its chapels. Many of the chapels constructed with darker red and gray marbles reminded me of the Church of Santa Maria del Popolo. As I gained interest in the Church’s details and was trying to make them out in the dim lighting, I realized that I had walked right up to a confessional that was in use. I was slightly startled because it reminded me that I was in a functioning Church that is frequented as much by Roman parishioners as foreign tourists. Keeping my eye out for other confessionals for the rest of my visit, I noticed faint light and voices emanating from most of them. This was definitely the busiest church I had been to in Rome in terms of actual religious activity. For the 45 minutes I spent walking around, dozens of nuns also entered the building. After I surveyed the main altar and all the chapels, I felt that it was time to leave. On my way out I almost missed one of my favorite features of the Church; before the central aisle a mirror had been placed facing the ceiling at an angle. Walking up to it one could suddenly see the ceiling’s details. I noticed for the first time the illusion created with the combination of painting and stucco work. After enjoying the now-illuminated artwork, I had no complaints about the Church; the dark lighting was not a problem, after all. Once again pleasantly surprised by a structure in Rome, I felt that I had found another site worth revisiting some day.

Giornale 4: The Keats-Shelley House

After my chaotic visit to the Vatican Museums in the morning, I was so looking forward to the calmness of a smaller museum. Although it is situated right next to the Spanish Steps, one of the most popular tourist destinations for sight-seeing and shopping, the Keats –Shelley House is modest in size and seemingly overlooked. I had tried to go there on Thursday morning after our visit to the Trevi Fountain, but it was closed for Republic Day. This time, however, the wooden doors at the entrance were wide open and I excitedly walked up the steps to the Gift Shop to retrieve my €4.50 ticket and enter the museum.  The first room I entered was a large sitting room lined with mahogany book shelves. The only employee upstairs told me the layout of the floor; to my right would be information on Keats, and the rooms to the left focused more on Shelley and Lord Byron. I immediately entered the rooms to my right because Keats is the main reason I wanted to go to the Keats-Shelley House in the first place. I originally wanted to choose the museum as my group’s Adopt-A-Site project, but its size created logistical difficulties. The Protestant Cemetery in Testaccio, where Keats and Shelley are buried, proved to be an easier location for our large class and also provided a good context for seeing the museum. There were many written descriptions on the walls about Keats’ choice to be buried there and paintings and engravings depicting the Cemetery and Pyramid of Cestius in the early 19^th century. After seeing his grave, it was eerie but also fascinating to see the exact room in which he passed away from tuberculosis.  As a letter from his close friend and cohabitant Joseph Severn reveals, Italian officials burned the entire contents of his room because they thought it would stop the spread of the disease. But the museum acquired an antique bed with linens that would be typical of the time and placed it in the bedroom, so it was not difficult to picture the scene. It was harder to imagine the Protestant Cemetery at the time; according to the accounts of Keats and Shelley, it only had about thirty graves and was populated by flocks of sheep and a shepherd. Other letters written by Severn explain how as Keats’ physical condition worsened in Rome, his mental state also deteriorated and resulted in more erratic behavior and thoughts. I thought back to my poetry class this semester in which we briefly studied Keats and the Romantic Movement, and remembered how my professor mentioned the almost euphoric effect tuberculosis can have on the mind. Perhaps the tragedy of Keats’ sickness and brief life were actually contributors to his poetic genius and description of the senses. After walking through the two rooms on the Keats side and reading about his biography, I went back to the main room and sat down to peruse an anthology of his poems. After rereading a few of my favorites and surveying the rooms on Shelley and Lord Byron, I was more than content with my visit and ready to leave.

Space and Place 2: The Vatican Museums

Our visit to the Vatican Museums was definitely a challenge to enjoy. Firstly, I have been suffering from spring allergies here and my constant sneezing and sinus headaches lessened my excitement. Walking to the museums from St. Peter’s Square and seeing the massive, snaking line around the building foreshadowed the crowds within. Much of the day resembled herding sheep, and it was nearly impossible to stay with the group. The first galleries I went in were less crowded but required walking down a long hall with no exit except the way you came in, which becomes tiresome in such a large museum. I understand that the building must be organized so that traffic does not pile up, but it became clear early on that the majority of the visitors were solely interested in seeing the famous Sistine Chapel. If the museum had been less crowded, perhaps like the Capitoline Museums, then the use of space would have been much less problematic. Midway through taking the longer route to the Sistine Chapel I regretted my decision, because I was stuck behind large tour groups and families pushing strollers. I was so irritated by these other visitors that by the time I got to the jam-packed Chapel, I could not appreciate it fully. I only spent five minutes or so admiring the walls and ceilings and trying to ignore the disrespectful people around me before I left and had to walk through an equally labyrinthine exit. ‘Uscita’ in the Vatican does not mean the same thing as it does in the Metro, for example. The exit was many hallways, staircases, and gift shops after its first sign. Overall, the Vatican Museums are worth the trouble just for their beautiful artifacts, but their organization and overcrowding require the patience of a saint.

Momentary Blindness: The Aventine Hill

As I sit in the center of the orange grove leaning against a tree’s trunk, it is difficult to find an adjective to describe this moment other than “perfect.” I am sitting on some gravel in partial shade. The stones beneath me feel neither hot nor cold and although they are slightly digging into my skin, sitting anywhere is a welcome rest from standing and walking so I don’t mind. The air around feels about 70 degrees; the light breeze makes this temperate afternoon even more ideal. Because Guerry and I found and shared a low-hanging orange, traces of its taste, smell, and feel are still lingering. I’m surrounded by the citric aroma, and my pencil feels somewhat sticky from my fingers. Lastly, I can hear the beautiful sound of almost total silence, save for the birds chirping and a nearby fountain bubbling. For a public space with dozens of people milling about, I can hardly make out any human voices. As a whole, this spot is as peaceful as any outdoor space I’ve encountered in Rome, second only to the Protestant Cemetery.

Giornale 3: Santa Maria del Popolo

Panorama of the Church

After visiting St. Peter’s Basilica in the Vatican this morning, it only seemed appropriate to go on a solo excursion to another religious place. Amari, Emily, and I decided to take the Metro around 3pm to Flaminia to visit the Church of Santa Maria del Popolo in the Piazza del Popolo. We had passed the exterior of the Church on the way to dinner a few nights ago and all of us agreed that it was worth another visit to the Piazza. When we arrived, however, the church was closed and we realized that we had an hour to kill before 4 o’ clock. We decided to walk down the Via del Corso and try to find the Casa di Goethe, another site on the list of optional solo excursions. We even asked a few people working in retail stores and got blank looks; I’m guessing either Goethe is pronounced totally differently in Italian or it’s a small museum. After our unsuccessful search for the museum, we headed back to the Church and waited on the steps until the doors opened. I wasn’t expecting so many of the people resting on the steps to get up along with us, but most of them were waiting on the same thing. Walking through the doors of the Church I was surprised by my reaction. I had assumed that after seeing such magnificent basilicas like St. Peter’s and St. John Lateran’s, I would be underwhelmed by a smaller church. The Church of Santa Maria del Popolo, however, was just as ornately decorated. Each of the bordering chapels was filled with paintings, marble sculptures, and intricate moldings. And the Church housed works of some quintessentially Roman artists that we have seen all over Rome like Bernini and Caravaggio. While reading the labels in front of each chapel I considered how prolific these great Renaissance artists must have been to have their work commissioned all over the city. The Church also had many unique features that I had not noticed in any other churches or basilicas. For example, the altar was cheerfully decorated with sunflowers. This bright pop of yellow made the Church feel more accessible; I could easily picture parishioners attending mass here on a weekly basis. Additionally, the chapels along the side walls were very memorable because of their stylistic differences. Some consisted mainly of paintings (such as the one housing the Caravaggio paintings), others were entirely white marble, and some were highly wrought with variations of marble in black, green, and red. I also noticed many more symbols of death than I have seen in other buildings. Near the entrance was an eerie hooded marble skeleton in a niche covered with iron bars. And throughout the church were skulls and crossbones and other motifs of death. After sitting in the pew for a few minutes and reflecting while jotting notes in my journal, I was glad that I had chosen the Church of Santa Maria del Popolo as my third solo excursion; for an unassuming façade and scale, it was rich with valuable works of art and eclectic style.

Voyeur: Piazza Navona

Sitting on a shady bench at the end of the Piazza Navona, I am facing a caffeteria and ristorante called Dolce Vita. The one patron in particular who stands out to me is an elderly man. He is deeply engrossed in his newspaper and must have been sitting here for a while because his coffee cup has long been cleared by the waiter. For a man of his age he must be retired, yet he is more than presentable in his freshly dry-cleaned blue button down shirt and crisply pressed dress pants. His white moustache and large reading glasses round out the ensemble perfectly. It seems that he is performing the first ritual of his day, because he is so at ease at the caffeteria and rarely looks up from what he is reading; he never once makes I contact with me, though I am facing his direction and keep glancing at him. Yet, like many Italians, he is also a natural voyeur. I can tell this because he has deliberately rotated his chair completely away from the table and is facing the sidewalk and Fountain of Neptune. When turning pages of his paper he finally looks up and surveys his surroundings, which have probably shifted slightly since he first sat down. I doubt he can tell he is being watched, because for him this is a daily routine and moment of complete solitude. Sitting in the shade, admiring his long-time city of residence, he can gather his thoughts and start his day on the right foot.