When in Rome...

**Doing this chronologically? Scroll down to the next post to see what I thought of Denmark and southern Italy. Doesn't that sound like fun?**

There is something about Rome. I’m not sure what it is, exactly—whether it is found in the gelato, the Forum, the Trevi Fountain, or maybe even in amongst the crowds of fashionistas prowling by Gucci and Prada. It might be that in one day you can see the Coliseum, the Sistine Chapel, and get yourself a pair of Dolce & Gabbana sunglasses (complete with certificate of authenticity). Rome is a place of piazzas, pizzas, and stolen Egyptian artefacts. I don’t claim to understand the city, but I do revel in it.

Today is the third of January, and we arrived on the first. We have only been here three days, and yet I am already feeling overwhelmed by the amount of writing I must do in order to convey what we have seen. I guess I had better get on with it.

January 1st:

We arrived in Rome in the afternoon, and after dropping off our luggage at our hotel we set out into the city. Wandering is my favourite way to see any city, and we made a fairly good start that afternoon. We got off the Metro at the Spagna stop, and made our way past the Spanish Steps (apparently the place to “see and be seen”) before arriving at the Trevi Fountain. I had imagined it to be much smaller than it actually is. It takes up half of the piazza at least, and is carved elaborately. There are winged horses coming out of the stone and gods and goddesses (or nymphs?) presiding over them. It really is an extraordinary fountain. It is also conveniently located near a gelato place called “Blue Ice,” that makes a truly scrumptious Black Cherry flavour. I felt really spoiled as I licked my gelato and cheerfully dodged rain puddles on the streets of Rome.

We meandered through the streets for a while longer, turned a couple of corners, and suddenly—why, it was the Coliseum! This is my absolute favourite thing about Rome, I think. You can be walking along, having a perfectly modern experience, when suddenly you are confronted with a piece of architecture over 2000 years old. It’s possible to just stumble across the stuff!

January 2nd:

Morning dawned bright (cloudy) and early, and Dad and I set off to explore the Vatican. We met our tour guide, Michelle, in front of the Vatican museums, and I was amused at the sort of character she turned out to be. She had a strong British accent (I couldn’t place where it was from specifically) and more eye makeup than I usually see on one person. She also had a cold, which added an intriguing raspy-ness to the whole effect, but did not seem to dampen her enthusiasm even minutely. I instantly liked her.

Seeing the Vatican was a unique experience that cannot be compared to anything else I have ever done. This vast complex of buildings is its own country, complete with Secretary of State and post office. It just made me wonder if there was such a thing as a passport for citizens of the Vatican. There must be, right?

We started off by weaving our way through crowds of people* in the museums, admiring the same statues that Michelangelo admired during his time here (and modelled some of his paintings after). The Vatican is blessed with a staggering collection of art, impressive in both its quantity and quality. Even the rooms themselves are masterpieces. Raphael painted huge frescos on the walls of what used to be the private apartments of the Pope, and they are now available for public viewing. It’s really splendid to see. Marble imported from all over the world makes up the floors, walls, columns, and various other features of the buildings. One type of rare red marble is no longer found naturally, and 75-80% of the known existing marble can be found inside the Vatican.

And then we got to the Sistine Chapel. I am tempted to say nothing further, as we all know that words will not do justice to the experience; but I am far too verbose to be satisfied with such an arrangement, so I’ll do my best. When the Pope asked Michelangelo to paint the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, Michelangelo tried his best to back out of it, pointing out that his expertise was in sculpting, and that he knew nothing whatsoever about frescoing. He suggested that the Pope as Raphael to do the job instead. The Pope refused, and entreated Michelangelo to reconsider. Finally Michelangelo agreed, and put some serious hours into learning how to fresco. And then… he did it. He worked for four years, often putting in 20 hours a day. The result is extraordinary. The beauty of the ceiling is un-paralleled in any other painting I have seen. The large fresco of the Last Judgement on one wall is its only equal in splendour (that one took Michelangelo six years). And now I shall leave it at that.

Once we’d gotten out of the Sistine Chapel and taken a few deep breaths we moved ourselves into St. Peter’s Basilica and then the grotto. In St. Peter’s we saw Michelangelo’s “Pieta,” a sculpture of the Mary cradling Jesus after he was taken down from the cross. The people portrayed look supple, not at all as if they were carved from marble. Michelangelo carved it when he was 23. The grotto holds over 100 tombs of various Popes and important figures in the Catholic church. It was interesting to walk by and read all the little descriptions about their lives.

Outside I had the opportunity to take a picture of the Swiss Guards. I know, I know, they are highly trained members of an elite security force, and yet… Well, those uniforms just aren’t very scary. Let’s be honest. They are striped, puffy, and come with funny hats and spats. There is nothing intimidating about that. I hope they are able to take themselves seriously, because I certainly am not able to.

After the Vatican, my father and I headed off to lunch and then found our way to the Pantheon. It was originally constructed to glorify all of the Roman gods, but once the area became Christian it was converted into a Basilica itself. It wasn’t one of the most impressive churches I’ve ever seen, but it was interesting to see how it had been altered over the years.

From the Pantheon we made our way to San Clemente Church, which the guidebook assured us was the most beautiful church in Rome. Well! Rome certainly has an abundance of beautiful churches, and if this was the best, then we would go. The book turned out to be both right and wrong. The architecture was not my favourite—I am too much in love with Gothic architecture in churches to be overly impressed with much else. However, there was a mosaic over the alter that I could hardly keep my eyes from. It is made from many small pieces of gold, among other things, and shows birds, snails, people, Jesus, and many other tiny pictures among large golden swirls. It is about 900 years old, but still in perfect condition.

Below the church is a labyrinth of stone passageways that are full of tombs, frescos, and even a pagan alter. It is an ongoing excavation to find more out about what is beneath the church, but even what they have discovered so far is awe-inspiring. I am not exaggerating when I call the space a labyrinth. If there had not been exit (“uscita”) signs, it would have been a challenge to find our way out again.

And then, my friends, it was time to head back to the hotel and recover, in order to take full advantage of the next day.

January 3rd:

My goodness this is getting long. Why does this always happen? I’m sorry, I’ll try to condense a bit.

On the 3rd we went to see the Palatine and the Roman Forum. It was like walking through a history book, and I half expected the ghost of Julius Caesar to appear from around a corner, or perhaps a Vestal Virgin to show up wearing a veil. It didn’t happen of course, but I still hoped.

See, wasn’t that a nice, short version? You can tell I’m getting tired of this entry…

January 4th:

We went early in the day to see the Colosseum, and then headed out to Florence on a train. The Colosseum was certainly impressive from the inside. I can’t even imagine being a gladiator, but it must have been a terrifying experience to come into that huge arena, knowing that people were just waiting for you—hoping for you—to you horrifically.

Trains are, well, an experience. They can be great, if you are not overloaded with luggage—but I am. So it’s a constant effort to keep stuff out of other peoples’ way. I’m not looking forward to the train ride to Nice, though I am looking forward to Nice itself!



* and when I say “weaving our way” I really mean “pushing through people until you feel like you are being squeezed, inside out, from one full tube of toothpaste into another”