June 12 - Goodbyes, San Onofrio and Riding in Trains

My last day in Rome I was leaving later than everyone else. I woke up and packed the last of my things and went down to say goodbye to all of my new friends.

Then I ate breakfast and headed up the Janiculum to meet my new German pal from the hotel, Suzanne. Since I had some time to kill before my train she took me to a small, little known church nearby, San Onofrio.

It is small and a bit run down but pretty and being at the top of the hill (next to Ospidale Bambin Gesu) had great views of the city too. She walked me through the exterior areas and explained what she knew about the church's history and the art.

She showed me a long series of frescoes that illustrate life of San Onofrio, explaining them as best as she could.

Then she introduced me to a lady who works there, who could explain more about the art and architecture inside. The lady (whose name I cannot recall at the moment) spoke almost entirely in Italian but remarkably (with a lot of fierce concentration) I was able to understand most, if not all, of what she explained. Most of the major pieces seemed to be from the renaissance period, and they have some paintings that are from the school of Leonardo Da Vinci ... so produced by his students.

After seeing so many masterful works by the likes of Caravaggio, Rubens and Raphael, nothing here struck me as being completely spectacular but it was still quite lovely.

Then I headed back to Villa Maria, where I checked the internet to waste a little more time. For some reason I had it in my head that I was leaving Rome at about 2 pm ... But that was my arrival time! My train was to leave at 12:45 ... and I thankfully realized that at about 12. The man at the desk called my a taxi and I anxiously rushed to Termini, just making it onto my train. P.S. Hauling heavy luggage onto a train full of people is less than fun.

I sat with two girls who were from Wisconsin I believe and had, like me, decided to extend a stay after a study abroad trip in Rome. About 2 hours of riding through lovely countryside ...

... and then I arrived at Firenze Santa Maria Novella station, where I bought a regional ticket to Montecatini Terme.

Then I got onto the wrong train.

But some nice people helped me get off at the next station and find the right one. I arrived in Montecatini around 3:30 or 4 and got a cab to the hotel. The nicest old man was my driver. He insisted that I sit next to him instead of in the back and gave me a card so I could call him if I need a taxi later. He even showed me an old black and white photo of his younger self. Pretty sure he was flirting!

Then checked in, unpacked and napped a bit, then headed down for a yummy dinner at Don Chisciotte.
 

June 9 – Ostia Antica

I can easily understand the appeal of Ostia for the poets of the Romantic era. The weather was overcast  and drizzly when we headed out for the train and it remained cold and foggy for the entire trip. Walking through the overgrown ruins of this long dead city were made more wistful and ethereal, even a little bit creepy at times. Wild flowers fill the spaces between the crumbling walls. Every place that I walked revealed another piece of the puzzle of life for the people that once lived there, from the theater to the market place to the various places of worship.

The most hilarious thing happened after we did our presentations. We were sitting in the theater when a man sitting at the top who was not any part of our group started singing a line from "Bohemian Rhapsody" by Queen, probably just to hear the echo. Almost involuntarily it seemed, some of us responded with the next line. He sang the next and before long there was an impromptu concert. That was the best memory of the trip!

June 6, Wednesday - Audience with the Pope and Saint Peter’s Basilica

Today we got up early and headed to Vatican City for an audience with the pope. Rather than walking or taking a bus, three of us took a cab directly there and got seats relatively close to the front, about 12 rows back or so. We sat in the increasingly hot day, surrounded by an ever growing crowd of people while we waited for an hour and a half or so until the audience began. In the interim, choirs sang and a German band played some upbeat tunes.  People stood and cheered when he finally arrived, driving by in the "pope-mobile."

Then we listened as groups from different places were introduced to the pope, each in their own language and each followed by the cheering or some other display. Then the pope shared his short message in the same language. When they got to English, they announced the names of our schools and we cheered ... however our little trio was nowhere near the rest of our groups so our cheers were pretty quiet!

The whole thing was done in 7 different languages: English, Spanish, French, German, Russian, Portuguese and Italian. Then he said a blessing over the audience in Latin.

Afterwards we toured St. Peter's Basilica, which is stunning. I wish that we could have seen Michelangelo's Pieta without it being behind glass, but I understand the precaution after the statue was attacked by a crazy man with a hammer.

The carvings and mosaics are spectacular, the baldachino and throne were elaborate and stunning. I wasn't up to climbing the 500 or so stairs to the top of the dome but I sent my camera up and still got to see the views, at least second hand.

Keats House and Protestant Cemetery

I now have a more complete understanding of the lives of the 19th century romantic poets, particularly Keats. Today we went to the Keats-Shelly House, next to the Spanish Steps, and the guide gave a very thorough  and enjoyable account of Keat's life and death. It is sad to think of a young life cut so short so far from the people he loved. He lost so many people in his life and other than a few friends, the only people he had were his brother George, who lived in America, and the love of his life Fanny Brawne, whom he left behind in England when he came to Italy in hopes of curing his tuberculosis.

I was amazed by how small and cramped the living quarters seemed as well. A tiny bedroom with a fireplace, where they would reheat the food sent up from the taverns, and a small sitting room. To live and die in such a place ... it makes me greatful for all of the comforts and conveniences of my life.

The Protestant Cemetery, sitting in the shadow of the Pyramid of Cestius, was lovely and poignant. The side where Percy Shelley is buried is crowded with row upon row of tombstones, both simple and ornate. On the other side, where Keat's lies, was simple and quite and peaceful. On his grave he asked that there be no name, only the phrase "Here lies one whose name was writ in water," because he believed that he would not be remembered after his death. Beside it on a wall however is a plaque that asserts that if his name is written in water, it is from the tears of his mourners.

Villa Borghese and Santa Maria del Popolo

So many wonderful things already but today was my favorite ... today we visited the gallery at the Villa Borghese. By far the most awe-inspiring experience of my life. To stand in front of paintings by Raphael, Rubens, Caravaggio ... a dream come true. I can't quite process the overwhelming beauty of these works or the idea that I am close enough to touch them (not that I ever would). As an artist, I am inspired and deflated ... how could any work of my hands ever come near to the ethereal majesty of Raphael or Rubens? How could my brush capture the raw reality of a Caravaggio? The infinitesimal detail somehow coaxed from a slab of marble by Bernini leaves me breathless. How can one place hold such beauty?

It is ironic to critique the works in such a place, to question the proportion or foreshortening of a long dead master, yet I could not help but dissect some of the works.

Bernini's mastery of marble was immense ... every detail considered. The way Persephone's skin dimpled in under the tight grip of Hades as she struggles to escape hi, the rippling muscles, the hair on Cerberus you can imagine petting ... words do not suffice. I wish that I could use my own picture here, but photos were not allowed. 

After our time in the gallery was through, a small group headed through the lovely grounds to find our way to the Piazza del Popolo and Santa Maria, where we could view more works of Caravaggio. Again, no photos were allowed of these pieces, although I took some of the church itself.

Sunday, Monday and Tuesday - Free Days and Ankle Problems

Sunday was our first free day. My friend Patrick and I decided to make it a chill day and we ended up wandering around and stopping once again in front of the Colosseum. The thing had kind of a magnetic draw for us that first week. I think we went there four times or so. We also checked out the Column of Trajan, bought some street art and listened to a guy playing Spanish guitar on the street. Nice day.

Monday, June 4

We were going to head to the beach this morning. The idea of sitting and soaking in the water and soaking up the sun sounded very appealing to me after the week of walking everywhere. Patrick, Arlene and I took the bus to the Tram station, where we were to leave for the beach, when we stopped at a little used bookstall. I found a few books in Italian that I am familiar with in English, in hopes that I can continue to learn Italian by reading them. In one book, I found this cool vintage photo of a fountain, so that is a cool freebie souvenir. Unfortunately, it was a bit cold and windy and seemed to be threatening rain so we (grudgingly) agreed to forgo our beach trip until a sunnier day.

When Arlene and I were looking through the books (while Patrick stood around looking bored) a young man approached us. I guess he had heard us speaking English. Julian is 19 years old and from Washington state. He has been traveling Europe, mostly couch surfing and staying in hostels, and has sailed in every country where he was able. He was going to be in Rome for another day before heading to Spain, where he was going to sail to Mallorca, Menorca and eventually Turkey. He told us funny stories about staying with a sheep-herder where he was allowed to live with the family for a few days in exchange for help with the flock. We left the bookstall and grabbed some lunch at a great little place, Aristocampo, near the Pyramid of Cestius … pizza or buffet, birra & caffe for 7 euro, a great deal. 

Patrick

Arleen

Julian

After we ate we decided to head to the Fontana di Trevi, where we checked out the vendor stalls, ate gelato and did our obligatory coin toss and drank water from the fountain to ensure our return to the Eternal City. I sat for a while, mesmerized by the fountain and the sound of rushing water and murmur of the crowd. There are guards there, whose entire job, it seems, is to blow whistles at those who deign to sit, stand or climb on any part of the actual fountain, although sitting on the ledge of the pool seemed to be acceptable. 

Next stop was the Spanish Steps … by this time I was in a good deal of pain, my ankle throbbing and swollen. I determined to sit at the bottom while the others climbed to the top however my curiosity got the best of me. I could not simply wait there and miss out on the purportedly spectacular view. I made my way up slowly hobbling little by little to the top. 

The steps are flat and shallow, unlike those on the Palatine hill (or the Coliseum apparently) so it could have been worse I suppose but by the time I reached the top I was nearly dizzy with pain. I hate to be the one that slows everyone down or holds them back so I trudged on, trying to ignore it. We were aggressively approached by rose sellers, stopped to haggle with a vendor selling designer knock-off bags and then made our way down the hill at the back to find a bus stop. It was gorgeous and a fabulous experience but by this point the pain had me in tears. We rode and changed buses, bidding farewell to our new friend, and managed to return home where I promptly elevated and iced my ankle, which was swollen up like a softball.

I really enjoyed the day for the most part but, of course, the ankle problem really sucks. I cannot say for sure but I think that I have walked well over 35 miles this week, often up stairs and along very uneven cobblestone streets and sidewalks. This has not been very ankle friendly, particularly on the one that had a torn ligament/tendon almost a decade ago. So Tuesday I ended up missing out on the Capitoline Museum tour, instead staying at the hotel where I slept, read and sketched for most of the day. I cried during our little courtyard meeting because I wanted to go so badly but just couldn’t do it.

I spent the day reading about what I missed at the Capitoline (although that was kind of depressing) and drawing/painting. 

Saturday night in Piazza Navona

A group of 14 of us went out for dinner in the Piazza Navona. We actually managed to find a restaurant that was eagerly kind enough to seat all of us together. It was pricey, but the view made it very worth it to me and the food was spectacular. I ate gnocchi con gorgonzola e spinace and drank bellini, plus had a taste of my friend Zelene's lamb, which was divine. I also had the pleasure of sitting almost directly in front of Bernini's fountain of the four rivers while I ate. Amazing!