Envoi (6/5)

Well, I suppose this is it.  I find it somewhat amusing that my final assignment at Skidmore is a blog post, but quite honestly, I wouldn't have it any other way.  It allows me to express myself with an intimacy that a final paper can't quite capture.  The last two days have been largely spent reflecting on my time in Italy and adjusting to life back in America.  On my way home from the airport, my dad and I stopped for food in New Haven, and after we left I found myself looking for a gelateria.  I had gotten so used to being able to just wander into a shop for a coffee or gelato, and I wasn't prepared for how much I would miss that.  But Rome meant more to me than just coffee and gelato.  I felt as though I was able to observe the passage of time in a way that I never have before.  I think the Theater of Marcellus is the best example of this.  The building consists of ancient arches, modern extensions of those arches, and modern apartments above those.  It was amazing to see the past integrated with the present, and it made me wonder about the future.  But there were also opportunities to focus on slightly more specific points in history.  Seeing the Colosseum for the first time made me stumble in awe, as did turning the corner to find myself face to face with the Pantheon (much to Professor Curley's amusement).  It was just so incredible to finally see these monuments I had known about and studied for many years among the hustle and bustle of Rome, and we saw so many of them.  The experience of seeing the pope was one of the more amazing things to happen in Rome, and this is coming from someone who is not religious.  I found myself enraptured by his speech, even though he was talking in a language I didn't speak.  The Capuchin Crypt was one of the more disturbing places I've ever been to, but I definitely enjoyed my time there.  Wandering the forum and imagining it as it was when Cicero walked through it might have been the highlight of the trip if it hadn't been for Ostia.  I really had no idea such an amazing place existed.  I totally felt like I had gone back in time.  I could close my eyes and imagine that there were ancient Romans walking beside me.  But what was most incredible was how I got used to these experiences.  We went to the Colosseum stop on the metro enough times that I began to expect it, though it never lost its majesty.  In many ways its similar to the experience of growing up in Concord.  I am surrounded by historical monuments, but they become part of my day, even though they are still special.  Rome became part of my day, and that's pretty amazing.  However, the biggest takeaway from the trip is the friendships I made.  Throughout the semester, I got to know everyone by sight and I knew the names of most people in the class, but I didn't really think I'd be able to become friends with everyone in 17 short days.  I was wrong.  I could not have asked for a better group of students or better professors with which to fly off to Italy.  I felt like we were all on this grand adventure together to try and appreciate as much of the city as possible, and I think we succeeded.  The course at Skidmore provided us all with a context with which to integrate new information that we picked up in Rome.  Even when we forgot something, it was easy to put the pieces back in place because we had an idea of the concept of Rome.  I miss it already.  I now am thinking about the next phase of my life.  I have some job interviews lined up and then will start thinking about a long term career.  I have no idea when I'll be able to see the rest of the world again.  But that's ok.  I don't think I'd want to take another trip anytime soon, because it wouldn't have a chance of living up to my time in Rome.  I have made friendships that I hope can last, and memories that I will definitely have until the day I die.  These really were two of the best weeks of my life.  I'm sad that it's over, but I'm so lucky that I was able to finish my college career in the best way imaginable.  Thank you all so much!

Giornale 4 at Basilica of Santa Maria in Trastevere (6/2)

For my fourth and final Giornale, I went to the Basilica of Santa Maria in Trastevere.  I thought this was really appropriate as this is the same church that some of us briefly visited on the first day.  To be perfectly honest, I remember sitting on the steps on the fountain in the square and looking at the collection of Greek and Latin inscriptions on the walls underneath the portico, but I don’t remember going inside.  Sarah B, Frini, and I all walked over there together after Kevin and Sarah D. had gone home following the Republic Day parade.  The church sort of snuck up on us as we were wandering through Trastevere.  It is a very unassuming building in a very inconspicuous square, with the entrance almost hidden from view underneath the portico, almost as if it is hiding.  We approached and I stopped to admire the inscriptions for a minute before walking inside.  The inside almost overwhelmed me with gold when I first saw it, but I soon grew accustomed to it and really began to enjoy it.  The ceiling is covered with a gilded pattern, framing a painting of a woman in the center.  The front apse was also covered primarily in gold, but with some paintings as well.  The most prominent was depiction of Jesus flanked by several men on each side and a woman sitting next to him.  The background was gold with the faces and clothes of the people in color.  Underneath this was a painting of several lambs or sheep, but this time with a darker background.  Many other people were depicted on the walls of the bema.  The altar was quite plain, with solid dark columns holding a roof above it.  I was sitting in a pew near the back for a bit as I took this all when people began to sing.  It might have been in Latin or Italian, I couldn’t tell.  I sat and listened for a while before getting up to investigate the side apses.  The right aisle was mostly in shadows and many of the apses were similarly dark.  The first one, closest to the back, contained a portrait of a woman receiving the Eucharist.  The second apse displayed a scene depicting baby Jesus.  I continued down the area, peeking into the other apses on my way up the stairs to a small, empty chapel to the left of the central apse.  It seemed much removed from the rest of the church and very serene.  There was a sign saying that it was exclusively for prayer, so I didn’t enter.  I then descended the stairs and met up again with Frini and we both went to investigate the right hand chapel as well as the singing that was still coming from it.  The left aisle was much brighter than the right one because of the sun.  As we got closer we saw a crowd and I stood on tiptoes to see a young man dressed in white looking very happy and hugging people.  Frini said that she thought it was a ceremony for a newly appointed priest, and that seems logical to me.  It was a very nice thing to happen upon.  We stood there for a bit, enjoying the happiness in the air before running into Sarah on our way out of the church. 

Momentary Blindness (Ostia Antica 5/31)

Right now it is alternating between very loud and very quiet.  Conversation engulfs me along with strong high pitched chirps.  However, when the people stop talking, the birds seem to as well, leaving a silence that cannot be found in Rome.  I am walking along a road.  I can feel the uneven stones beneath my feet forcing the soles of my shoes into my feet.  Each step feels different.  Sometimes I step on a flat, smooth surface, other times my foot falls on a sharp rock.  But they are all at different angles, making the walk quite exhausting.  I can really feel it in my calves and the bottoms of my feet.  The hot sun beats down on my head and arms, warming my hair.  The cool breeze does a bit to help cool me off, but overall it is a bit uncomfortable.  I start to veer left, off the stones and under flat, firm dirt.  It is much easier on my feet.  I extend my hand and gently run it across rough stone, feeling the toll that time has taken on the building.  As I follow the wall, the stone turns and suddenly I can’t feel the sun anymore.  The air feels damp.  My footsteps echo slightly.  I am inside an ancient ruin.  I sit down to enjoy the cool oasis.  The dirt feels pleasant under me.  I try to extend my legs, but find that there is a second wall blocking them.  I tuck my legs in and just sit, enjoying the presence of the past around me.

(Ostia Antica, 5/31, 10:47-11:00) 

Giornale 3 at the Santa Maria della Concezione dei Cappuccini aka the Capuchin Crypt (5/30)

For my third Giornale, I went with Kristin, Kevin, Emily, Sarah and a few others to the church of the capuchin monks.  As we were taking the metro over, Sarah mentioned how scared she had been of this place when she was younger.  I thought this was interesting.  Churches don't usually inspire fear.  I asked what was so scary about it and was told that it was a surprise.  So I stopped asking and resolved to go into this blind.  We got off the train but were a bit too early, so we went across the street to get gelato.  After waiting a bit for everyone to show up, we entered the museum.  As we bought our tickets, I was warned not to look at the book open next to the cash register, and I didn't peek.  Tickets in hand, we entered the museum.  I looked at a lot of stuff, but didn't read much so as not to spoil the surprise.  I saw brown robes of Franciscan friars in a glass case.  I walked a bit more and saw a picture of a friar holding a bloody hook on a chain.  I read enough to learn that he was hung from the hook for three days over a fire.  I turned around from the painting to see a very bloody drawing of Jesus on the cross.  It looked like a macabre doodle some schoolboy made to liven up his day.  It wasn’t very detailed, but the body of Jesus was completely red and large droplets were coming off of him.  I started to think that this order of friars was a bit strange.  Sarah then called to me and asked if I saw the pocket watches, so I went back to look at a small collection of very cool watches behind glass.  I then continued to make my way through the small museum until I turned a corner and read a sign informing me that I was approaching the crypt.  I could see the bottom of an arching ceiling through the doorway I was standing behind.  It looked like there was bone on the ceiling.  I stepped though the doorway and yep, it was definitely bone.  I have never been so amazed, repulsed, and drawn in, all at the same time.  The room was full of bones.  They were very artistically arranged, which made it much more disturbing.   Two robed bodies were lying under an archway made of bones over a bed also made of bones.  Two other robed bodies were standing under archways made of bones on the wall opposite to me.  I looked up to see a small skeleton attached to the ceiling in the center of a design of decorative ribs.  There were three more rooms like this.  The next room was predominantly filled with skulls with some robed bodies among them.  The room after that was mostly decorated with pelvises.  Then we got a break and there was only a coffin.  The last room was particularly disturbing because the faces of the bodies hadn’t quite finished decaying.  We reached the gift shop and took a minute to recover before heading up to the church itself.  The church was one of the darkest I’ve ever been to.  There wasn’t a lot of light, but there was also a lot of dark wood used in its construction.  The paintings on the side walls were all of friars in brown robes.  But what really made me feel uneasy was the music.  I have never heard such dissonant church music.  The only real light part of the church was a beautiful painting of Mary above the altar with a crown of actual gold stars. I sat in a pew for a bit taking it all in before leaving.  Definitely one of the more interesting churches I’ve ever seen.

Momentary Blindness (Orange Garden of Aventine Hill 5/28)

As I sit in the sun on a surprisingly cold stone bench I can hear the crunch of stones beneath feet and the loud shouts of children passing me, but mixed with those sounds are the soft tweets of many birds.  The loud sounds fade, to be replaced with a bell tolling in the distance, but still the birds remain.  Their sounds come from all directions above me.  I think I can smell a hint of orange in the air, but that might be my mind playing tricks on me.  I can feel a nice cool breeze as well as the paper upon which I am writing gently tapping on my knuckles.  I am now noticing a dull whirring coming from the city behind me; I think it might be sirens, but I'm not sure.  It is soon drowned out by the sounds of Italian being spoken as a group walks by me.  For just a moment after they pass there is silence, except for the birds.  It's very nice.  The bench is still cold as I extend a leg over a fresh section of it.  The wind has picked up and now keeps blowing my hair into my eyes and slightly into my mouth, but it soon quiets down again.  The birds continue their song.  I can now hear the sound of running water coming from a fountain in front of me, something I hadn't noticed before.  In the distance, a loud laugh rings out along with another group of people.  This time English is mixed in with the Italian.  The sun is starting to get hot and it's beginning to bother me.  I strain my ears to hear the birds once more before getting up, but they seem to have gone.

(Orange Garden on Aventine Hill, 5/28, 3:55 - 4:11)

Voyeur (St. Peter's Square 5/27)

To my left stands a Swiss guard.  He knows that, on its own, his outfit would look ridiculous.  He is wearing a poofy blue and orange striped outfit, with a few red strips near the shoulders and a white collar.  However, it instead inspires a deep respect due to the incredible dedication of the people who war it.  In addition to the outfit, he also is wearing a black beret, tilted towards me.  Beneath the hat, his long, clean shaven face stares ahead at Pope Francis.  His entire life is devoted to the protection of this man.  He does not care how long the address will be, he will stand at attention for the entire length of it.  He is almost a statue, with his hands clasped together in front of him.  He is not visibly armed, but very well trained and incredibly ready to act in case of emergency. The heat does not bother him.  He even has trouble remembering if it ever did.  At one point during the address he is approached by a woman.  He breaks his composure to bend his head toward the woman in order to hear her.  He gives her directions very politely and sees her off before resuming his post, staring straight ahead at the pope.  He has lost count of the number of ceremonies he has watched.  They all blur together.  But he doesn’t care; the protection of the pope is all that matters.  The address will eventually end, which will inevitably result in commotion as people try to leave, but he will be ready. 

(10:30 at St. Peter's Square during a papal address)

Giornale 2 at Capitoline Museum (5/26)

For my second Giornale, I had to return to the Capitoline Museum.  I simply didn't get enough time there before.  I decided to brave the bus system to get there, and this time I took the right bus.  However, it started getting too crowded around the Largo Argentina, which is only a few blocks from the Capitoline. So I got off and simply walked the rest of the way.  I ascended the ramp up the hill and stood for a second to look at the statue of Marcus Aurelius.  I then bought my ticket and went inside.  Now that I had more time, I saw the space differently.  I no longer only focused on things I knew, but stopped to appreciate unnamed statues and unfamiliar pieces. In the first courtyard, I looked at a series of reliefs along one of the walls that I hadn't really noticed before, even though I remember staring in that direction.  I saw people, armor, flowers, and serpents captured in the marble.  I continued along the wall until I reached the corner, above which was a portico that covered three statues.  The center one was a statue of Minerva, the other two were labelled as a Dacian prisoner.  The statues seemed identical at first, but upon further inspection, the righthand statue's eyes seem wider.  I wonder who he was.  I climbed the stairs to the main gallery again and arrived in the room full of black and orange Greek pottery.  While I didn't linger here for too long, as there were still many other things I have more interest in, I still gave this room much more attention than I did previously.  I moved on to the room containing the remains of the Forma Urbis Romae.  I'm somehow amazed by how similar this is to a modern map.  While I'm sure that the ancients had a much better working knowledge of the city, it's still nice to know that they wanted to stick up a plan in a public place.  I then wandered over to the room with the fasti, the list of consuls.  When I was here last, Sarah pointed out some famous people on the list.  I spent a bit of time looking around for someone I recognized, but I couldn't find anyone.  Past that, I entered the room with the statue of the runner picking a thorn out of his foot, the name escapes me.  To the right is the green statue of Brutus with striking white eyes.  I still find this statue to be unnerving.  I left quickly.  From here I wandered through the gallery, looking for whatever caught my eye. I eventually came upon something I didn't see before.  Across from the awkward tetrarchs is a small alcovelike room containing lots of Christian iconography.  It was roped off.  I don't really know what it was or what it was doing there, but it felt really out of place.  Moving on, I reached the end of the gallery and a junction that would lead to the courtyard again, the stairs to the paintings on the second floor, or the stairs to the underground epigraphy corridor.  I skipped the paintings floor today.  Instead I headed for the stairs that could take me downstairs to the epigraphy.  But before I made it, I stopped to notice four reliefs at a landing on the staircase.  They're all magnificent.  One depicts Hadrian, the other three depict Marcus Aurelius in battle, in triumph, and performing a religious ceremony.  I continued downstairs.  Here I really stopped to admire the artifacts.  I also tried to read as much of the Latin as I could, and I did pretty well, even though it's starting to get a bit rusty and I didn't have a dictionary.  Lots were dedicated to the souls departed and described who erected the stones.  The corridor was also beautiful itself.  Light seemed to emanate from the two rows of stones that lined the walls; the lights below and out of sight.  Above me was a blue sky dotted with stars.  To top it all off, piano was playing gently in the background.  It all seemed very respectful, which surprised me.  It seemed as if they recognized the purpose these stoned served.  I eventually left to come to the statue of Mars, which I was disappointed to read was not the original, but a copy from the Flavian era.  Oh well, it's still beautiful.  I climbed the stairs to the hall of busts to see more famous people, but that's not quite all that happened.  Determined to see things I hadn’t seen before, I went into a smaller room.  This room seemed to only contain busts without names.  A weird thing happened.  I felt as though I could walk among them as opposed to simply past them.  Their eyes seemed closer and as though they were looking at me, instead of above me.  I felt as though I was close to experiencing something resembling the old city.  It was very cool.  I then went into the room with all the famous people again, and this time into the room with the emperors as well.  I stayed a bit, seeing those representing the glory of imperial Rome before museum fatigue started to hit me and I left.