Parting Thoughts

Four months ago, I was leaning back comfortably against my dad's legs on the couch in my living room. Our Christmas tree was still up and lit, and my mom and sister and I had just finished one last game of Bananagrams. I was so nervous about leaving that I felt slightly nauseous, but I didn't want my family to worry so I tried to seem as calm as possible.

Four months ago, I had no idea why I was coming to Roma. I had never dreamed of studying in Roma, not even after I was first on the list to go. Since I was little, I wanted to be like Amy in Little Women and study in France. But for some reason (fate? divine intervention? luck?) I was venturing off to Roma for four long months that have turned out to be much too short.

I don't think the idea of going home will be truly real to me until I'm there, just like the idea of coming to Roma wasn't real until I settled into a routine of classes, churches, and cappuccini. I really didn't like this graffitied and dirty city when I got here, but now it has become an enormous part of who I am. Four months later, I love Roma, more than I love DC after two and a half years, and I thought I was really falling in love with DC. In four months, I've gotten to know Roma so well: I walk everywhere here, and I feel so comfortable exploring on my own. In only four months--in just one semester--Roma has truly let me make her my own.

And now I'm leaving. Tomorrow.

I've been repeating that statement all week in an attempt to make it real, but I still have a hard time believing it. It's strange to think of this entire experience just...ending. It's like travelling to the USA is 'spring break part five', but we're not coming back for another three weeks in Roma this time. In fact, we won't be coming back here ever.

Sure, any of us might return to Roma in the future, but it will never be like this ever again. We won't be allowed to stay in the same Trastevere apartments or hang out in the courtyard. We probably won't be able to revisit our studio space with the prow overlooking Campo. The walk back to a hotel at night won't be the same as the walk back from studio through the backstreets of the Theater of Pompey/Campo area, down Via Arenula, across the Ponte Garibaldi (with a glance left to Tiber Island then right to St. Peter's Dome), left along the right bank of the river, straight past the Agip gas station, and right onto Vicolo di Santa Maria in Cappella.

Coming back in the unknown and distant future, Roma will be an entirely new adventure. But, then, that's exciting, too.

Late Discoveries

Four months gone. Two days left. I've taken so many long walks around the city since I've been here, and I'm still discovering new things, even in the areas I walked past every single day this semester.

For instance, I spent Holy Thursday relaxing, sketching, and people-watching on Tiber Island with Steph Cervantes. While there, we found a gelateria with the softest, creamiest gelato I've ever had that dares to rival even Giolitti, just five minutes from the apartment. But there was only a week left to enjoy it.

Last week before jury, I stopped into the bar right across from studio because it was convenient for a pick-me-up cappuccino. With a week and a half left, I realized that a decent 90 cent cappuccino and delicious cornetto were just across the piazza. Why didn't I ever stop in there before?

While walking home from the center yesterday, I decided to cut through the Jewish Ghetto. In the sunshine, it made for a beautiful and interesting walk (not just the same things I see every day).

I've taken pride in the fact that after four months I can walk through the center and know exactly where I am or at least know which direction I'm headed in relation to landmarks like the Tiber, Campo, the Pantheon, Via del Corso, the Forum, Piazza Navona, or the Vatican. I may know where I am, but I still don't know all there is to see and do. I'm happy to still be discovering, but I wish it didn't have to end so soon. Going home is exciting, but I'm really going to miss this Roman adventure.

Buona Pasqua!

I was about ten meters away from the pope this morning. The reality of that didn't even cross my mind until I got back here to the apartment.

I wasn't even planning on going to Easter Sunday Mass at the Vatican when I arrived in Roma this semester. I had my mind set on finding some nice, quiet, small church in the heart of Roma to celebrate in. I didn't want to deal with crowds pushing and shoving just to see the pope.

But when CUA asked if we wanted them to request tickets for us, "Well," I figured, "Why not?"

And so, at 6:30 this morning I woke up and made my way to Vatican City with some of the Arts and Sciences students from my floor.

Piazza di San Pietro, empty at 7:30

I'm really happy I decided to go because it was a really neat experience! It was like going to a Catholic school graduation: a lot of pomp and circumstance added to the usual ritual of the Mass. For instance, just before the service started, the Swiss Guard marched in (I had no idea the Vatican had so many Swiss Guards!), followed by four different military bands, all leading up to the arrival of Pope Benedict XVI in the Pope Mobile. 

Military bands in formation before the outdoor altar

Pope Benedict XVI processes in for Mass

However, what I thought was most interesting about the Mass was its use of multiple languages. Most of the Mass parts were spoken in Latin (I was amazed how much Latin I remembered from high school--including the 'Pater Noster'), but the first reading was in Italian, and the second reading was in English. Also, each of the general intercessions was spoken in a different language, including French, Portuguese, Spanish, Chinese, and even Swahili.

Piazza di San Pietro at 12:30 (just after Mass),
crowded all the way down Via di Conciliazione

But even more impressive was the multilingual end to Pope Benedict's Urbi et Orbi message at the end of Mass. In what must have been at least 30 different languages, including Mongolian, Japanese, Hungarian, Finnish, Korean, Thai, and Icelandish, the Pope wished the world a happy and blessed Easter.

Pope Benedict XVI delivers his Urbi et Orbi Address

And I felt happy and blessed to be there.

Framing Views

2,764 years old Thursday, Roma really knows how to make itself look good. Here are some views of Roma, framed by Roma, taken over the course of the semester.

Castel Sant'Angelo to St. Peter's

Keyhole, Aventine Hill, to St. Peter's



Porta Portese Market

The Roman Forum

Castel Sant'Angelo to the Tiber

One Tribal Bird Man

With only days left, I keep thinking about all of the things I'm going to miss when I go home. One of those is "Carlo Menta," a restaurant in Trastevere that I've been to multiple times for delicious, inexpensive dinner (splitting a Pizza Margherita between 3 people, pasta, dessert, and Coca-Cola for 12.50 euro...yum.). Another is Baccanale, a panini stand just off Campo de' Fiori where I go almost every day for lunch. I've frequented it since the beginning of the semester, so the girl who works there recognizes me and always gives me an extra friendly smile and a happy "Ciao!" when I go up to order. It makes my day every time.

And then there are the different atmospheres of the places I walk through often: local Trastevere, artistic Piazza Navona, the busy market of Campo de' Fiori during the day, and the variety of street performers that magically transform it at night. Fire dancers, musicians, and--a few nights ago--One Tribal Bird Man. 

Three of us were strolling leisurely back to studio after dinner at Carlo Menta, in absolutely no rush because we had absolutely no desire to go back to work. We took some back streets to get to Campo from Ponte Sisto, and on our way, we passed the Bird Man, with his variety of instruments, pipes, pig, and spider. Back at the Place du Georges Pompidou in Paris, I didn't think street performances could get any stranger. This one topped all of the ones I'd seen this trip. He had a dancing spider! Actually, the Bird Man reminded me a lot of Bert from Mary Poppins: so many instruments and gadgets, controlled by every body part he could possibly spare.

One Tribal Bird Man

The idea of going home--of going back to the United States--just seems weirder and weirder. I really can't believe in two weeks I'll be using currency that is all the same color and size. That coffee will be subpar, cappuccini won't exist, and what does will cost way more than one euro, even in US dollars. It's also weird to think that I won't be able to walk everywhere--in fact, anywhere, since I live in the suburbs. And people will move so much faster...

Everywhere--every second--in Rome is a cultural experience. I'm going to miss it terribly.

Sunday Stroll on the Quirinale

Jesus may be the Light of the World, but the first thing I noticed about Roman churches back in January was that they were always dark. Except when there was a Mass.

Therefore, ever since the beginning of the semester, I have made it a point to attend Sunday Mass at those particular churches that I especially wanted to see in my time here, so that I could actually see them in all of their illuminated splendor.

Two Sundays ago, I decided to scale the Quirinale hill on a pilgrimage to Bernini's Sant'Andrea al Quirinale, a baroque church with an elliptical plan. There are a few other oval-shaped churches in Rome, but Sant'Andrea al Quirinale is unique: through a few subtle design moves, Bernini successfully converted the shorter axis of the ellipse into the main axis of the church.

Sculpture above the altar at Sant'Andrea al Quirinale

Since the Quirinale is pretty far from our studio and apartment, I decided to walk around and explore a bit while I was already in the area. After checking my handy Roma guidebook for suggestions, I strolled down the street to revisit Borromini's San Carlo alle Quattro Fontane.

One of the "Quattro Fontane" outside San Carlino

Since San Carlino also has an ellipselike plan, I decided to do a comparison sketch until the priest kicked me out of the church a half hour later to lock up. From there I walked away from the Quirinale along Via Veneto (which didn't live up to the hype of my guidebook) and eventually made my way back. Heading uphill, I had one of those Roman moments where you're just walking aimlessly and suddenly pass a monumental fountain that pops out of nowhere. This time it was the Moses Fountain.

Fontana dell'Acqua Felice (Moses Fountain)

Like the Trevi Fountain, the Moses Fountain marked the terminal of an aqueduct. I wonder if these fountains would have seemed so random when the aqueducts were still visible.

As I continued walking, I eventually stumbled upon Piazza della Repubblica, a large traffic circle with a huge fountain at the center. The piazza is really close to Termini Station, and every time we took a train for a school trip outside Roma and passed it, I wanted to come back. While there, the huge size and semi-ruined exterior of Santa Maria degli Angeli caught my eye. It didn't look like any other church I'd seen in Roma, and that enticed me to go in.

Facade of Santa Maria degli Angeli

Apparently, Santa Maria degli Angeli was built using some of the structure of the Baths of Diocletian that once stood on the site (some ruins are still there today). Therefore, the church is enormous, with huge barrel-vaulted spaces. Finally, I had a sense of just how massive the ancient Roman baths were, thanks to this rather large case of adaptive reuse.

Down half of the old frigidarium at Santa Maria degli Angeli

Southern Italy Study Tour: Ercolano

On our last day in Southern Italy, we had the option of either touring the local area of Castellamare di Stabia or visiting the ruins at Ercolano. Having explored much of the main part of Castellamare di Stabia in our free time the first day there, I decided to venture out to Ercolano.

Ercolano

Ercolano (Herculaneum) was another city like Pompei that was destroyed by Vesuvius's eruption in 76 A.D. However, Ercolano was much smaller than Pompei and much better preserved, due partly to differences in how the eruption effected the cities. Because of this, Ercolano was much more interesting to explore than Pompei: you could see more of the city's ruins because of its small size, the ruins were much less ruined (some houses still had parts of their original second stories and roofs still intact), and (except for the large groups of elementary school students) there were a lot less tourists to dodge.

Taberna (ancient hot food bar)

However, the most wonderful thing about Ercolano was the freedom to explore just about everywhere. In Pompei, there are wooden gates blocking almost every entrance to the buildings except for those that are the most well-preserved and best maintained. Therefore, in Pompei, you spend most of your time just strolling the streets and occasionally catching a glimpse of an interior space through a blocked off doorway or ruined gash in a wall. However, in Ercolano, because the entire city is so well-preserved and maintained, almost every building and every room inside is accessible to visitors, allowing you to get a really good idea of the scale and feeling of the ancient houses, public buildings, and overall urban planning. For the first time ever, I felt like I had a really good sense of the size of the different rooms of typical Roman housing.

Corinthian Atrium

The freedom to explore also allowed visitors to view frescoes, statues, and preserved architectural details in their original place. This was particularly interesting because you could see all of the different layers of the frescoes preserved on the walls. I never realized before just how colorful the ancients liked their houses. One can find colorful renderings of Roman temples in so many books, but it is always hard to believe that the white ruins we see today were once so vibrant. However, Ercolano is not a city of whitewashed ruins but full of color.

Fresco with original linework exposed

My favorite building in Ercolano was the so-called "House of the Black Salon." Nestled amidst a blacksmith's shop and various other stores and tabernae, This house was very well-planned, with careful attention to details that still read today, even in its ruined state. For example, the main sitting room for guests was located between and directly on axis with the main entry/atrium and the garden. By positioning this room adjacent to the two spaces exposed to direct natural lighting (the garden and the atrium), it is naturally well lit and inviting. Also, the columns that would have supported the overhanging roof in the garden line up precisely with the walls of the space, such that all of the openings off the garden are unblocked, maximizing their views and the amount of daylight they would receive.

House of the Black Salon, standing in the atrium and looking
through the double-height sitting room towards the garden