Catholic City
September 8, 2013
Italy has met and even surpassed my expectations for food, wine, history and culture. When I come home I’m going to need to sign up for some serious crossfit sessions to work off all of the amazing pasta and pizza I’ve consumed in the past few days.
As for the people, the Italians have lived up to every bit of their energetic and effusive reputations. You gotta love the sight of immaculately groomed and goggled men and women zipping on their scooters through Rome’s chaotic streets.
One surprise has been the lidless toilets all over the place. Might as well dig a hole to crap in, folks, because you’ll be squatting like you’re in a remote Thai village. When in Rome …
In any case, I had one more free day before my conference started. After the whirlwind tour of Ancient Rome’s signature ruins, I decided to spend the day on the western side of the Tiber River. First up: an audience with Pope Francis.
Well, not really, although the Pontiff apparently did makes himself available to his admirers a few hours before I arrived at the Vatican. Seems to be pretty dope, this Pope.
En route to Vatican City, I was floored by the views of St. Peter’s dome, which just grew in magnificence as I approached from the southeast and the famous walls drew ever closer.
The crowds and buskers began to thicken considerably on the streets leading to the main entrance for the Vatican Museums. Fortunately I booked a ticket online and was able to breeze through the security lines and queues — I’ve never seen so many tourists in one place, not even in D.C. It was like Hell on Earth, ironically enough.
Whenever I go to a museum my goal is to leave with one takeaway memory. I’m not much of a museum goer and I tend to cruise through exhibits, rarely pausing to read the educational signage except for the artists whose work attracted me. So I made a beeline for my primary destination: the Sistine Chapel.
It turned out to be a very meandering beeline as the Chapel is tucked deeply inside the museums. On the way I passed through a fabulous map gallery and innumerable not-so-fabulous concessions (and here I thought the holy grounds of Jerusalem were over commercialized …).
The Sistine Chapel is as impressive as any religious site I’ve seen in all of my travels. I’m not a pious fella, however I’ve always been a fan of art and architecture inspired by religion. Taking in the full majesty of Michelangelo’s 500-year old frescoes made me contemplate the sense of purpose and devotion that guided his brush strokes, resulting in such gorgeous portrayals of Christian teachings.
Alas, all of this power was diluted by Italian security guards who keep shouting “NO PICTURES” over loudspeakers every five minutes or so. Several people had their cameras and phones confiscated; others were bullied into turning their cameras on to prove they didn’t take any surreptitious photos like this one — FU, mafioso!
After two hours I had enough of the throngs of tourists, so I departed and slowly made my way southward through Trastevere, a picturesque cobblestoned area with fantastic trattorias, pubs, and a fair share of extraordinary off-the-beaten path attractions. Foremost among them is the Basilica di Santa Maria (circa 1143), reputedly the oldest church in Rome.
Given the restrictions on photographs at the Sistine Chapel, I assumed I would need to put my camera away upon entering Santa Maria. Imagine my surprise when visitors were welcomed to take photos of the church’s interior at their pleasure. And I’m really thankful for that because Santa Maria is a truly elegant and magical place with incredibly detailed frescoes, ornate sculptures and imposing statuary.
To cap it all off I enjoyed a cold beer at Big Star, a dive bar named for the legendary alternative rock band of the early 1970s. Album covers decorated the walls and cigarettes carpeted the floods.
Midway through my beer the bartender played Big Star’s cover of the Velvet Underground’s “Femme Fatale”. It was a moment that almost made a believer out of me.
Next up: Procida
Aventine Hill
September 4, 2013
Aventine is one of the original seven hills upon which Ancient Rome was founded. I’m staying in a wonderfully quiet hotel on Piazza San Anselmo, far from the chaotic city center, yet close enough to access many key sights by a leisurely walk or quick Metro ride. But with incredible surroundings and weather, and ample time before check-in, who in Hades wants to be underground? I thusly opted to hoof it down Aventine Hill to begin my journey back through millennia.
This is my first time in the Eternal City, and it definitely delivers plenty of “WOW” moments. I haven’t muttered “fucking incredible” to myself this much in a typical Nats game this season. Such as when I first glimpsed the ruins of the Domus Augustana (circa 23 BC) on Palentine Hill and the fields of Circo Massimo while descending Via di Santa Sabina.
Still the record holder for being the largest-capacity sporting venue ever built, the “Circus Maximus” could hold 250,000 spectators during its famed chariot races, gladiator fights, and game kills overseen by Caesar, Nero, et al. That’s more than two Beaver Stadiums worth of tailgaters! The lines for beer must have sucked!
Where to next? With so many options, there are few potentially disappointing decisions. So I just decided to wander on a whim to discover Rome serendipitously, following a winding narrow street or climbing staircases at random, stopping only when some centuries-old church or collection of ruins begged to be photographed.
In this manner I eventually stumbled upon the Pantheon (circa 126 AD). A temple to all the Gods of Ancient Rome, nowadays it perseveres while fake gladiators pose for photographs with busloads of tourists. Now I understand why there are so many multilingual signs all over the place that read: “Welcome to Rome. Respect it.”
Just as I was starting to succumb to the heat, crowds and jet lag, the sight of one more vestige of Antica Roma compelled me onward: the Colosseo (circa 80 AD). Built to provide Romans with a more “intimate” (50,000-80,000 capacity) amphitheater to watch gladiators, executions, and fake sea battles, the Colosseum was the Camden Yards of its day.
I was surprised to learn that the Colosseum is a modern-day symbol of the anti-capital punishment movement. Golden light bathes its travertine stone whenever someone on death row is freed or laws banning the death penalty are passed. In a city of conservative religious mores, it’s nice to know there’s a place where I can stand on some common ground.
Next up: The Vatican
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