May « 2014 « The Pedestrian Poet

Archive for May, 2014

Temple Guardians

Wednesday, May 14th, 2014

The victory temples of old stand a solitary vigil in the midst of a modern city that pays them little heed. Four temples, fallen to ruin and decay, walled in by tram lines, bus stops, towering shops, and a never ending flow of people. They once were celebrations of victory, temples dedicated to the gods that the Romans believed helped them gain victory, their remnants lie about the enclosure like an architecture bone yard of the ancients.

The only beings that set foot down there, the ones who have come to call this place their home, are the guardians of the temples, the abandoned felines that prowl the ruins. Victory temples turned cat sanctuary, these guardians of the past watch over what has been left behind after the decay of time set it’s claws into the crumbling facade of victory. These are creatures of desperation, creatures of hardship, vigilance and wariness. They watch from below, or from the pedestals where once figures of gods stood. They are the gods of this place now.

Brutalized by a city that does not want them, these mangled guardians slowly wander the overgrown ruins. Some with tails cut off, others with injuries that have left them limping, some missing body parts, and many left with a mean or bitter temperament towards the humans that must have abandoned them and left them to the streets of the city to survive. But others are kind guardians, their fur intact and a kind demeanor towards the few humans who visit them in their sanctuary.

I have sat and watched these mangled guardians, the battle scarred, the age torn, and the arched back hissing of two cats ill at ease and clawing for a fight. They are gods in their own right. Warriors of a city that have no place for them within its walls, but here, here in Largo Argentina, at the victory temples of old, they are guardians if not gods. A land of their own for them to sun bathe in, be fed by generous humans, fighting for the right of their land, and wander for endless hours amidst the decay of human ruins. Part of me wonders if they take a strange pleasure in being amidst the ruins of human activity, if they feel like lords of that which the humans failed to preserve. Forsaken by man, taken up by animals, it seems like the order of the world at hand.

Tags: cat, cat shelter, gods, italy, largo argentina, rome, stray cats, temple, victory temples
Posted in Photos, Thoughts, Travel Updates |

The Difference a Daisy Can Make

Wednesday, May 14th, 2014

There is a haven to be found in every home you make. A place where the earth seems to resonate and the trees sway like a dancer in the wind that captures your heart with the grace and gentleness of a mother’s comforting embrace. In a field of daisies, underneath a cherry tree with cherry blossoms spinning in the air, lazily making their way down from above onto the green grass below, I felt the air resonate like the beat of a hummingbird’s heart, the same as my own just on a frequency faster than I could feel. It was like the wind whispering a thousand times over this is home, this is home.

There is magic in a field of daisies. To stand on a pathway and look at the hundreds of upturned faces of flowers reaching towards the sky, their nourishing mother the sun shining down upon each petal, each upturned dot of beauty that makes for a sea of life below your feet.

Spring has arrived in Rome. The trees have begun to come back to life, the flowers are blooming, the sky is the deepest of blues.

One of my favorite places in Rome is the sprawling park of Villa Pamphilij. The huge expanse of park space, just seemingly endless hills of rolling green that sits above the main city center, a haven of green, and trees, and the peaceful tranquility of life slowed down to the sound of a beating heart. The get away from the noise, the hustle and bustle of the city, into the nature that Rome has to offer is always a treat. Just endless hours to wander through long grass fields under the canopy of umbrella pines, that only let in leaks of golden light to shower the grass with warm rays of nourishing sunlight.

Weaving through the spire like lengths of the umbrella pines, feeling the long grass slip between my finger tips, this place seems so unreal, like a part of a different world, wrapped up in itself, its own like cosmic bubble just beyond Rome, yet still a part of it.

There are even green parrots with long amazing tail feathers that dive through the canopy of the trees, crying out to one another as they swoop through the park to find new places to rest their wings. I found one of their tail feathers amongst the grass and it felt like such a gift, to hold this beautiful feather, a work of art straight from the nature that spawned it.

There is so much in the park, so many different areas, different spaces all with their own special wonders that make this place a wonderland of adventure with infinite discoveries to be made by those who venture out into its long expanses of nature. It is one of my favorite things to just get lost wandering around this park. These are all just some photos of my adventure in the park, my haven of happiness to escape from the city center.

Tags: daisy, field, flowers, goose, italy, park, rome, umbrella pine, villa pamphili
Posted in Photos, Thoughts, Travel Updates |

Il Giorno dei Libri

Wednesday, May 14th, 2014

As an English Literature major, and an avid lover of books, there is no paradise like that of sheltered haven of old books housed in a library with towering walls of ancient tomes and centuries old unopened pages. The other day I was in a book lover’s paradise. The name even seemed appropriate, Biblioteca Angelica, referring to the original collections owner Angelo, but to me it felt like a library of angels.

The Study Abroad Program I attend at the University of California Center in Rome has the ever fulfilling practice of site visits, wherein we the students get to go out into the wonders of Rome and have our lectures on site in many of the amazing places Rome has to offer up to those who seek its treasures. For one of my classes, Rome and Renaissance Literature, we had the pleasure of getting a mini little tour of Biblioteca Angelica and all of its centuries old wonders.

We were taken into the library and given a tour in Italian, which I was happy to discover I could understand almost everything she was saying. Our gracious host and guide through this wonderland of books, was kind enough to impart her extensive knowledge on the origins of the collection and its relation to the Church of St. Augustine, and the associated convent. The actual library itself, which is open to the public for study usage, and you know I will be back there in a heartbeat to study as soon as I can, was truly incredible. High ceilings, filled to the brim with walls of centuries old books, covering every inch of the walls, wrapped from top bottom and every corner of the building lined with beautiful tomes and books.

Standing in a library of old books is like standing in a sea of whispered words. Sinking into a warm abyss of aged pages, and words reaching out from paper to wrap and coil around your heart and mind like seaweed vines entwined around your being to bring you back to the books that sit silently, but softly calling your name. There is nothing more magical than a library filled with books spanning the great divide of time.

The library is from the 17th century, and many of it’s books are older than that. We were lucky enough to be brought down into another layer of the library where our host showed us some truly mazing treasures. She treated us to a handful of ancient books all from around the 1540’s that were just breath taking. There is something about a fragile binding, the browned pages thick and weighty to the touch, the gothic and italic scripts of printing press or a gifted hand that fills me with awe struck wonder. So much care went into these books, such dedication and time spent to create each one of these, and to think of how far they have come, and how long they have survived to end up in my hands at the very moment they were placed before me, today, this year, this life. It is amazing to think of the journeys that books take in their life time, not all of them are strong enough to weather the storm of time, but others are cared for or are lucky enough to be protected by the caring and cherishing embrace of a guardian. The stories that lie within the pages of these books, not just in the words on the page, but the stories and tales of time imbedded in the grain of the books, in every torn page or browned edge from the years that it lived and survived.

Looking carefully at each book placed before us, with eyes wide with wonder, the class beheld the books that beat back time to be with us in that very moment.

We had a selection of books placed before us, but the most notable for us and our class were three works we specifically had and would be going over in class. The poems from Pasquino, taken from the talking statue and published so that the voice of stone could be read more universally, the poems from the counter poetic contest established by Goritz under the statue of St. Anne and the Raphael fresco of Isaiah in the book Coryciana, and finally, the one that took my breath away, a really old copy of the Book of the Courtier by Castiglione.

The Pasquillorum, pictured below was an amazing collection of poems posted on the statue of Pasquino. Pasquino is a statue near Piazza Navona that from the mid 15th century to the mid 16th century, people would use as a place to express their political, social, or any other sort of discontent in the form of poetry by attaching their writings to the base of the statue. The poetry would all be anonymous and take on the name of the statue as a sort of literary shield that allowed people to write anything and post it publicly without threat of punishment or censorship. The book we looked at was a collection of published poems that had been collected from the statue and put into a book. It was amazing to see the things we had been studying in our class come to life in these fragile old books. The words we had been reading on rough photocopied paper transformed into the elegant script of a 16th century book.

The other book that we got to see was an extremely old copy of the Book of the Courtier, or Il Libro del Cortigiano by Castiglione. The marble front cover, the old speckled pages, the ornate inside cover, and the script itself were all beautiful. To have read and studied this book, and now see it in its actual 16th century binding and creation was truly an experience. To feel its pages, the slight rise of the printed inky black words, the torn corners, or the fragile binding that took this book beyond literature into a historical work of art in preservation.

I was so grateful for that experience, and it was definitely my favorite site visit of the semester thus far, but then again as an English major I am always biased when it comes to books, especially really old ones. We left the library in a state of awe and contemplation, pulled back from the depths of that silent, warm worldly embrace back out into the noisy bustling world of Rome, like a person being born again into a strange and unnatural world. I almost turned around and went right back into the silent haven of books, but I had to keep going. To let all of the experience sink in I went and got coffee at the well known Sant’Eurstachio Cafe, where I sat outside on the bustling streets of the piazza, watching the world move on around me. Thinking about how different the world before my eyes was than the world inside of the books we had just looked at. And strangely enough, in many odd ways, the worlds, though vast different, didn’t actually seem too far from one another. I could see the lining, the black words in the outlines of every person that walked by, etched into the words that came out of all of their mouths, were the traces of the same words used in those books. It was an interesting time to sit and watch the world, wondering about all that had changed, but also all that had remained the same.

Tags: ancient, biblioteca angelica, book of the courtier, books, italy, library, manuscript, pasquinades, rome
Posted in Photos, Thoughts, Travel Updates |

Afterimage

Wednesday, May 14th, 2014

Fingers trace the lines of the knotted wood polished, like rocks made smooth by the crashing of the waves, by the seeking hands of the needy. Desperate fingers ring the wooden front of the pew, hopeless fingers, hoping fingers, searching fingers, tired fingers, angry fingers, ecstatic fingers, but most of all, human fingers holding tight to the wooden beams of fallen trees lined up like old layers of bricks used to fortify the foundations of a building. The pews filled with people, each with a different word, or a different hole in their heart, seeking searching, for something they know not the name of, the know not the form of, nor know the true power of, yet they come with heads bent down and palms raised up for answers.

There is a side chapel in the Vatican, reserved for prayer alone, where tourists cannot enter unless it is God, not vacation experiences, they seek. A room of silent reverence where a strange feeling lingers in the air, an odd shared glance with the nun kneeling beside me in which I realize we are all here for the same thing. No matter who we were, where we came from, or the thousands of different reasons or things that happened to us in our lives that led us to this moment where a nun and I shared a knowing glance with one another, in which we both acknowledged that we came not for ourselves, but seeking another.

It is in the moment in which she is beginning to stand to leave that our eyes meet, a little smile shared, but no words spoken. When she has crossed herself and left the small chapel, I turn to look back at the now empty place beside me. My eyes rest on the red kneeling portion of the pew where the indents of her knees in the red material are still visible. These indents of burden, these indents of faith, these indents of understanding left in her vacant space. Knowing that when I stood to leave, my own indents would remain where I once was too. There was something beautiful in the space she left behind, like an afterimage of a single part of a larger being. We all walk these different roads, lead these different lives, but can you not hear the sound of a heart beat always in your ears, and have you ever wondered if it is not your own? Have you ever stopped to think that these afterimages we leave behind of ourselves are all simply pieces of a greater being, drifting like ghosts in a world not meant for them because they forgot the sound of their own heartbeat when it was entirely whole?

The afterimage begins to fade, the marks of being have risen again, the pew left empty ready for the next apparition with the questioning weight of knees bent who forgot their way home. I stand and look down on the marks I will leave behind, knowing soon they too will fade, forgotten, into the red material of the wooden pew. Wondering, what soul had occupied the same space before me, wondering what they had prayed for, and what had led them to this point where they got down on their knees. Knowing soon, I myself will be an afterimage, flickering for a brief moment in a little chapel in the Vatican, in the heart of Rome, wondering where my ghostly feet will lead me.

Tags: afterimage, catholic, ghost, god, italy, left over, memory, nun, pew, religion, remembrance, rome, vatican
Posted in Candid Photography, Photos, Thoughts, Travel Updates |

Orvieto: Above and Below

Wednesday, May 14th, 2014

Travel is the one unanimously ubiquitous aspect of studying abroad. Traversing the globe, moving from one place to another, culture upon culture every moment that isn’t filled with study, homework and school. It seems a frivolous thing, to leave Rome just when we are only beginning to know and understand, to leave every weekend to go see another place when we know so little about our new home. While often times that is the case, a trip is just a frivolous vacation to another part of the world, or maybe to see a place or something you always dreamed of seeing. However, one thing that isn’t often talked about is the enhancing and enriching aspect of the extra travel study abroad students do. I don’t know about everyone, but for me traveling on the weekends, seeing something outside of Rome every week or every other week has become one of the most important parts of my study abroad experience not because it is simply amazingly fun, (which it is) but because it helps me better understand and put into perspective his place I have come to called home in reference to the worlds that go on all around it. No city stands alone, it is shaped by the many multifaceted worlds that revolve either around it or in the near vicinity of it. Even if a place is far away, or seems to have no actual connection to Rome, the way these towns or cities function helps me better understand through contrast and comparison between my new home and these different places I see. Studying abroad isn’t about living on a island without outer influence besides your new place of residence, it is the complete opposite. It is the experience of grabbing onto every single amazing moment or opportunity that comes your way to better understand the world and the people who inhabit it.

I suppose all of this is to say simply, I went on a day trip this weekend.

I started the day off the right way, the right way meaning I fell while on the metro into a group on nuns who were none to pleased. (No pun intended) this occurred on my way to the train station in Rome where Natalie and I were to take a regional train to the town of Orvieto.

The train ride was swift and over relatively quickly after passing through field after field full of sheep and many rolling hills speckled with little Italian towns. We sat next to some students from the American school, John Cabot who we listened to have the strangest conversations about America.

We arrived in the train station and immediately exited the station at the bottom of the hill we needed to surmount to reach the hilltop town of Orvieto. To do so we needed to ride the funicular, funny little cable car of sorts that quickly rose up the side of the mountain through rocky cliff face and hillside vineyards.

We hopped out of the crowded funicular and immediately began exploring seeing as we only had the day to see all we wanted to which was a surprising amount of things for how small the town was. We started with the hilltop view. Around the corner from the funicular was a communal garden area with medieval walls that provide an incredible view over the Umbrian countryside and the surrounding little Italian towns far below the hilltop.

After enjoying the sunny little garden and the views it so graciously supplied, we began to make our way into the city, generally heading towards the Duomo were we would really begin the day. Entering the winding alley like streets of the town that early in the morning were very empty except for the few elderly Italian residents walking home from a fruit stand built into the wall of an old building.

Natalie and I wandered where our feet took us, seeing many a small adorable Italian car, mailboxes, and all else the city had to discover. We took our time letting our feet feel every cobblestone that fell underneath our wandering step.

We took our next stop at a very friendly caffe called Caffe del Corso where we got our morning cappuccinos to give us the necessary caffeine push to get us through a long day of exploring.

When thing we had been noticing was that from the moment I rolled out of bed, in the train station and in the town of Orvieto, everyone was either selling or carrying what I knew only as branches from a pollen tree. I was so confused as to why anyone would want to have these pollen sticks, which while colorfully beautiful were a horrible enemy of mine due to allergies. But everyone had them and I had no idea why. So when we finished our cappuccinos the very nice barista man gave both of us a little flower set of the pollen sticks as a gift. We were both really confused, but thanked him and left. Now we too were a part of the pollen carrying crowd with no idea why a man gave them to us. It was only later that we were informed that it was International Women’s Day and the plant was a mimosa plant that was given as a sign of appreciation for women.

So basic message: thanks for being a woman, here is a pollen stick. Go crazy.

But really it was pretty, and felt festive and fun to carry them around and we did appreciate the gift. It was fun seeing everyone carrying them, there was so much yellow in the city that day!

With our mimosa in hand we kept wandering on our way when we finally founded a corner and there right in front of us was the huge Duomo. I was so surprised, seeing as how small the town was I thought the Duomo would be pretty average, but it was huge and looked very similar to the Duomo in Siena. It was grand and very impressively standing high above all the other buildings.

But we would visit the Duomo later, right then we were going to buy our Carta Unica which got us into almost everything there was to do in the town for just 15 euros. We bought them and were told a tour of the underground Orvieto was in a little less than an hour. With that in mind, we decide to grab a quick bite before the tour. We walked all over finally deciding to buy a bottle of wine and get panini con porchetta, seeing as Orvieto is known both for its wine and it’s meat and cheese. So sitting in front of the Duomo we ate our pork sandwiches and shared a bottle of white wine, taking in the food and the amazing view.

So let me explain a few things. The town of Orvieto is very small, just a hilltop full of windy streets and tiled roof homes to some very interesting things to see. The town is medieval and since there is not much space on top of the hill the ancient town of Orvieto went underground. This means that the houses people lived in were above ground, but the workshops, businesses and many other places used in everyday life in Orvieto where built down into the ground creating a whole subterranean section of the town that can still be visited today. So our tour was to exploring with a guide some of the underground Orvieto.

Walking along the hillside we made our way to the underground entrance where we, in a whirlwind tour, got to see the underground system of a few of the medieval remains. Honestly, it was so rushed and not a lot to see that I wasn’t super impressed, the tour guide was in such a hurry it was pretty bothersome because we had no time to sit and take in the ancient sites, which were cool like an ancient underground mill or quarries or pigeon houses (which were used to get tons of pigeons which they would eat in times of plague when food was scarce) but we had no time to enjoy it. Regardless it was a good experience, but I much more preferred the Pozza Della Cava underground section o Orvieto which I will get to later. But I was glad to see it an experience it.

After our underground adventure we went back to the Duomo to take a look inside and see what there was to see.

The facade of the Duomo was just beautiful. The ornate twisting columns on its face lined with colorful mosaics, and not to mention the intricate carving of faces on the top part or the Duomo were breath taking. We could have, and probably would have stayed outside forever looking at every tiny detail if not for the biting wind that drove us inside looking for shelter.

We specifically wanted to see the work of Signorelli who had an amazing chapel within the Duomo centered on different themes of the apocalypse including the preaching of the anti-christ, ascension of the elite, and other aspects of revelation that in the form of mosaics and frescoes where truly incredible. The same man who painted these also painted in the Sistine Chapel in Rome and the works were truly incredible. We stood inside with our necks craning for quite some time just trying to take it all in. The rest of the church was relatively plain compared to its exterior, but we sill loved walking around in it. I also fear I have been spoiled by the churches in Rome because every single church you walk into in Rome is either famous or extraordinarily incredible for no specific reason, so it is hard to feel impressed with churches outside of Rome just because I have become a church snob of sorts.

Afterwards we decided to go to the tower in the city called Torre del Moro, which is a central clock tower of the town. We climbed up in the belly of the clock tower, step after step slowly ascending to the top of the bell tower. The part where you could see the actual clock from the interior of the tower was really interesting and you could hear the clock moving from the inside.

The view was really incredible, a tower on a hill top is a beautiful thing. Not only do you get to see the town from above, but the countryside stretching for miles upon miles into the distance, disappearing into fading mountains.

Every winding contour of the streets below, every tiled roof top and especially the grand standing facade of the Duomo was visible. We stayed up there for a very long time just looking again and again at every building in Orvieto. Even in the biting cold and trying to take photos with numb fingers, it was probably one of my favorite moments of the day.

Back on the ground again we continued down the labyrinthian cobblestone streets, but first we had to stop for some gelato. Despite the cold, the gelato was really amazing. I really enjoyed it, I may even say I enjoyed it a little more than Rome’s gelato(the scandal!). While the gelaterias that I love in Rome are great, especially Gelateria Del Teatro which has the most interesting and amazing flavors, this place just gave us huge portions that made my heart and stomach very happy. It was simple, big, and really tasty. I got Tiramisu and Straciatella, which was probably the most perfect combination ever.

After our delicious side stop, we made our way to the edge of Orvieto and worked our way around the perimeter for a little while, enjoying the view and the beautiful landscape.

Our next major stop was my other favorite part of the day, Pozzo della Cava. This strange site to see in the city confused me at first, I didn’t even really know what it was going to be when we walked to it because I didn’t know what the name meant. So I had no idea what we were going to see, and honestly I just went because we had the card and tis place was included, so why not go? It very quickly became one of my favorite places. It was a museum of sorts that housed an old medieval underground pottery factory that had a huge well inside of it. It went down several stories and actually turned out to be way more interesting than the whole underground Orvieto tour. With recreations and original ancient pottery that had been found in the factory displayed everywhere. The old kilns and places where they would work deep underground all on display.

The well itself was really really incredible. Going down extremely far, ending in a pool of deep blue green water speckled with tossed coins that lay for who knows how long in its depths. Natalie and I both tossed a coin in and it took what seemed like forever to reach the water far below. This well was another reason why I loved this site so much, but not just because it was so cool, but because of what the owner of the museum, a super nice older gentleman who I really wanted to just adopt as my grandfather right then and there, showed us. Since we were really the only ones in the entire museum he was really nice to us and talked with us and showed us a bunch of special things people normally don’t get to see. We just kept wandering around and he would start to smile just a little bit and then start to say “Ven, Ven, Ven” an abbreviated word for “come” and then he would show us special little secret things. One of them was when he took his custodial keys and opened this weird latch that actually looked down from way up above on the well and he took a pitcher of water and poured it down. As the water was falling it split up into droplets and at a certain point hit the light just right so that it lit up almost like a rainbow as the water was falling, hitting the water down below like rain. It was like a burst of light took over the falling water and the sound was like chimes when it finally touched the well’s water so far below, rippling its calm unmarred surface of centuries. It was truly special, and we felt so honored to have been showed that because I know many people probably can never see that. We thanked him so many times because we were so grateful and awes struck.

Then he took us to another little secret place where he moved some tables around and showed us a glass panel where you could look down on the underground kiln and pottery working area which was super cool. So he showed us all these special little things and it was so much fun seeing the ancient work places underground. He was really so nice to us it just made my day, and made it my favorite experience.

Then we continued our perimeter walking, scaling up a hill to take in the view of the town from the side and it was amazing. The green contrasted with the earth colors of the buildings in shades of orange, red, yellow, and brown, made for a fantastic sight.

We just spent most of the day wondering around in a state of awe, just loving every moment we spent wandering in the many tiny streets. Finally after much exploring we took a break in another coffee shop because we were exhausted from all the adventure. From there we watch the sun set on the Duomo, the shadow of night slowly creeping up the beautiful facade of the building.

Our last visit of the day was to another impressive well, the Pozzo di San Patrizio, even bigger than the other we saw, that descends a huge winding spiral downward of over 400 stairs to the bottom. It made for a haunting image at night, the water down below a deep dark blue refecting what little moon light that there was. We didn’t go down because we needed to find a place to eat and then catch our train home.

After a struggle to find a place to eat so early (7pm is REALLY early for Italian standards) we finally settled on a little pub and got some decent pizza, but honestly we were just more relieved to have a place to sit and relax in the warmth because we had been frozen to the bone for quite some time outside.

After dinner we took the last funicular ride down to the train station where we waited to board our train home. It was a long, but really great day. There is something so satisfying about going to little offbeat towns. Hill top towns with quirky medieval pasts, strange and unexpected sights to see. It feels so genuine, so real, and so fulfilling. It really is incredibly different than Rome and it was nice to steal away from the bustling city to a countryside town, even if only for one day.

Posted in Photos, Thoughts, Travel Updates |

Window Watching

Wednesday, May 14th, 2014

Sitting in Emporio alla Pace, just a few steps away from Piazza Navona, enjoying a cup of coffee and a pastry, it is easy to take for granted the things around me, to not take note of the truly extraordinary nature of the things going on around me. It is only when I realize I am over half way done with my study abroad experience, half way done with my time in Rome am I able to realize, not without horror, that these average everyday things will no longer be a part of my life in a very short while. Every moment I spend here is an exceptional gift unlike any other I have ever received.

My ordinary world is extraordinary in every sense of the word. Sitting in a flower framed window in a softly lit golden alleyway bustling with Roman life and her ever busy residents coming and going, I feel in the pit of my stomach how much I will miss this.

Two men with accordions strapped to their backs walking arm in arm followed by a man carrying a huge base, casually strolling. Two women happily embracing with a graceful kiss on each cheek and loud exclamations in an excited flow of Italian words rolling effortlessly off a native tongue. A woman in a window above and across the way airing out a comforter along with the rest of her laundry, after throwing open the dark green shutters of her apartments window with the double handed opening of arms of a bird taking flight. Construction workers gruffly laughing as they share a cigar on their lunch break, a slowly shifting cloud of smoke encompassing the space of their laughter and the street they sit on. A man emphatically hitting a newspaper with a questioning flat hand as he regards some article in angry disbelief. Three priests walking with arms held behind their backs smiling slightly but silently progressing down the street. A young man and woman walking together, talking under their breath with faces close and confiding, each holding a portfolio of work that is either art or architecture designs that wave back in forth with their fast walking movements, square compared to their bent over, whispering frames skinny from long nights in the studio. These are the things I will miss. Italian people leading Italian lives, the ordinary and everyday that goes on without note that in its simplicity lies true beauty.

If I sit here long enough I can witness a thousand worlds rubbing elbows without ever meeting one another. I wonder often how many of these worlds I will be able to hold onto when I leave to return to the United States. How many scraps of memory can I cling to when the reality has escaped me and the ordinary becomes the impossible again? I suppose that is why I have this blog. A collection of scraps of memories frantically and sometimes brokenly woven together to make something of the memories and thoughts bumping around in my mind that I fear I will lose some day unless the memories become something tangible, something real. Something to cling to when I am no longer here, something to look back and to prove to myself that it all really happened, that I did live in Rome for a semester, that I did see all these things because honestly I wouldn’t believe it if I wasn’t living it at this very moment.

Tags: coffee, food, interactions, italy, observing, people, piazza navona, rome, watching, window
Posted in Photos, Thoughts, Travel Updates |

Grit and Graffiti

Wednesday, May 14th, 2014

Rome is a city of layers, you never know what it is you will find as you find yourself negotiating between one level and another. There is the historic city center, the amazing monuments and the tourism layered with the periferia of the countryside and rural suburban outer layers of the city. But within those two there are thousands of different layers of being, each one given a home on some street, some intersecting grid of life within the confines of a city that is so full of surprises, both good and bad.

I have been trying to learn the many facets of a city with limitless faces. The only way I know to go about doing this is by talking with Roman natives and exploring the different neighborhoods or rione of Rome to see the many faces myself, eye to eye.

Today after my typical weekly market visit to Trionfale, a friend and I headed to a new rione I had never been to before, the San Lorenzo area that is the home of La Sapienza, the main university of Rome near the main train station in Rome, Termini.

The rain had gone, and the sun was warm on our backs as we ducked into the dark underground metro station that would take us to Termini where we would then adventure out into the San Lorenzo area. When we emerged into the light again in an entirely different section of Rome, it was truly disorienting. It has often felt that way for me when I take the metro places because you emerge from darkness into a totally new, unknown area with a sense of overwhelming mystery washing over you. Even though it is the same city, it doesn’t feel like it. Everything is so different and varies so greatly from one metro stop to another. The air, the people, the buildings, and everything there is to a rione, it is strange to suddenly emerge into a world unknown when you had just started to understand the world you were currently inhabiting. It is like having the earth pulled from beneath your feet and replaced with shifting sand that fills your shoes with the weight of mystery, that simultaneously weighs you down but spurs you forward to discover and unveil what the mystery attempts to hide.

Walking through what I could only describe as a Roman Chinatown, my friend Natalie showed me to the Acquario Romano, a strange building full of different works of art. But we didn’t come for the exhibits; we actually came for the bathroom. Yes, you heard me right, the bathroom. Underneath the building where the bathrooms for the building are, there is a tunnel that is used to get to the bathrooms, is itself a fantastic work of art. Today was actually the last day to look at it before the slate was painted over and wiped clean for the next artists to come and work their magic. The walls of the tunnel had been fully painted in the combined efforts of two fantastic artists with a contrasting style of almost childlike monsters and the grotesque realism of the other that made for a disturbing, but also deeply fascinating artistic experience.

To try and get a feel of what San Lorenzo was like we just wandered around the streets of the city looking at street art, graffiti and trying to absorb the feel of a part of the city that was not the overly touristy yet fantastic historic city center of Rome. The art was fun, and great and it seemed like every single wall was covered in a variety of different graffiti tags and other works of street art. It gave San Lorenzo a gritty feeling that while beautiful was a strong reminder of the real nature of Rome as a city of turmoil, struggle, and real life not like the idealized and romanticized pictures of Rome that all the tour books and postcards paint.

But it isn’t all political protest and turmoil, we also had a fantastic time at the old chocolate factory S.A.I.D and got some really amazing hot chocolate that was more like pudding than a drink. It truly is a place of contrasts; to turn a street corner away from graffiti to an adorable little chocolate factory with a cafe inside full of beautiful chocolates and drinks.It was an intriguing transitional experience to see these two things co-existing in one space. That is the epitome of Rome I think, the co-existing of extremes. It was this that we glimpsed in San Lorenzo.

We stepped out of Termini into the real Rome. A Rome of gritty contrast, both beautiful and terrifying, eternally magnificent yet stricken with problems that run directly to the core of a city that was once the throne of almost the entire known world. Political slogans and words of grave protest splashed across every building, pictures of turmoil, hurt, and injustice screaming out of the cracks in the walls like the voice of the Roman people crying to be heard. The real Rome.

It is a strange thing to study abroad because you are neither a tourist nor a local and everyone can somehow see this. You try to fit in as a local, but you are treated as a tourist, which in many respects you still are even though you try very hard not to be. We are temporary residents, which often means we as study abroad students only have time, or only want to make time, to recognize the monumental beauty of a place by seeing the “Top 101 Things To Do in _________” instead of taking the time to get to know the city as it really is, turmoil, gritty truth and all. It is probably the most frustrating part of studying abroad, being neither native nor naïve tourist, while not being able to access the comforts of either. There is no security of a native, that is the comfort of the known and familiarity, while also being denied the peaceful naivety of a tourist who can come and go in a few days with only seeing the highlights, the best and greatest and nothing more or less. As a study abroad student, we have access to neither, but still we strive and try as hard as we can to fit in as a local even though I think it may very well be stamped across my forehead that I am an Americana and I don’t belong or don’t understand. It is a complicated and multifaceted experience to study abroad that serves to open the eyes of students like myself to that very fact, that life everywhere is complicated and more than just a few amazing monuments, or more than just history, it is a living, breathing work of art, intricately woven together. The complex intertwining of the multifaceted aspects of a city are never easy to comprehend, all we can do is try to understand instead of putting on blinders to the pain, misfortune, and struggle of those around us. Four months is not enough time to understand the political rifts or impoverished struggle of the everyday person. Nor is it enough time to comprehend the vast beauty that a place like Rome has to offer. Four months is not enough time for anything to be honest, but all I can do is try to see what it is the Roman’s see. What I saw in San Lorenzo was just one of the many layers of Rome that is the beginning of Rome revealed, the Rome that the locals know and the tourists try to ignore. I am beginning to understand the complexity of the living breathing Rome as the creature that it really is, one layer of its being at a time.

Tags: art, graffiti, grit, hot chocolate, italy, rome, said, san lorenzo, street art
Posted in Photos, Thoughts, Travel Updates |

Through the Looking Glass and Back

Wednesday, May 14th, 2014

Today was the last day of the first part of my academic semester. I have completed the Intensive Advanced Italian Practicum, and today I took my written and oral final exam. It is a bizarre feeling to be taking a final after only three weeks of class, but here I am. This means that soon I begin my core classes and with that, begin the rest of my time here.

But so much has happened in the three weeks that I have been here living my life as a student. Since so much has happened, I am going to focus on the best day that I have had while staying here in Rome so far. It feels like it would be impossible to get a better day than this, but I will just have to see what the future has in store for me.

This last Wednesday was perfect. Recap of what happened: Saw the Pope, ate the best pizza ever, figured out how to use Roman public transportation without dying, went to an amazing gallery for next to no money, and got to read under the cover of ancient columns in a garden of statues, while listening to a man play the accordion. Yah, it was a magical day where every single little thing just happened to go my way.

I will begin with a letter. A letter sent from the Prefettura Della Casa Pontificia granting my roommate Elena and I entry to a Wednesday sermon from the Pope himself that would be held in Saint Peter’s Square.

All of which meant a 7am wake up call for Wednesday to head over to the Vatican, and see Pope Francis with our own eyes and hear him give a sermon with our own ears. We woke up to the pouring rain battering against our window panes, not even sure whether we would get to see the Pope because of the bad weather. Regardless, we made the small trek to the Vatican just in time for the rain to clear up for one grand moment. Between intermittent sunshine and cloud coverage, we pushed our way to the front and got seats in the fourth from the front row. Then came the waiting game, which very quickly became a miserable, but memorable wait. After an hour of waiting it began to rain again, but not just rain, it was a torrential downpour. Every single person there, and let me tell you the whole square was packed, had their umbrella open. It was a massive sea of disjointed colors attempting to cover themselves from the downpour. Every umbrella interlocked with another, it felt like a fortress that we were all in together. I must say though, it was not an impermeable fortress. Rain snuck in every nook and cranny, just enough to soak everyone there. My umbrella was dripping water the entire time, but we all hung in together, persistent and hopeful that the Pope would indeed still come, and hopeful for just a moment of sunshine or the halt of the rain.

We waited in the rain for an hour and a half when for just a moment, the rain stopped. Everyone warily stuck hands out of the fortress of umbrellas to feel for rain, and finding none, one after another all the umbrellas closed. It was in this moment of relief from the rain that the crowd began to roar. At the far corner from where we were sitting (the middle front) the crowd had sprung to life, waving flags chanting, and screaming one thing: Papa Francesco!

And there he was. He drove around the square several times, making sure to visit every corner so that everyone had a fair chance to see him, no mater how far back they were in the crowd. I was surprised to see that the Pope mobile had no side glass on it, it was all open. He drove around, stopping to talk to people, even kissing babies that were held up above the crowd. He truly connected with the people there that had waited for hours in the cold and the rain. I even saw him throw up a peace sign to a couple of people, which was hilarious to see. He just seemed so happy and engaged with the people, genuinely happy.

After making his laps, the Pope went to the center where he would remain for the duration of the ceremony. The rain started again to the sound of a begrudging communal groan and the umbrellas all went up again. So for that portion of time we couldn’t really see much through the barricade of umbrellas. But what we could do was hear, and it was truly an experience. We listened to the Pope speak to the entire crowd about the importance of Mass, and the importance of taking communion based out of the book of Matthew, one of the gospels in the Bible. The entire sermon was in Italian, but just like the other times I had attended Mass in the Vatican, I was able to understand most of it.

Then, after the sermon was over the Pope bestowed his blessing on the crowd, which consisted of different priests standing up and translating what the Pope said in his blessing into a ton of different languages. This took up a majority of the time, but it was very interesting to see the effort that went into blessing each group of people, each one in their own language so they could understand what it was he was saying to them, and how he was blessing them.

After he blessed the audience, the sermon was over and we were free to do whatever we pleased. For us, that meant adventuring because to go to this event we actually had to skip class. So normally, we would have had a couple more hours of Italian, but today we were free.

Freedom usually means one of two (or both) things while in Italy: time to get coffee, or time to eat food. On this day we decided to do both because we were just so excited about not having class. So our first stop was a little caffè called Sciasia Caffe, which is rumored to have excellent coffee. It was a nice open caffè with a few seats and a nice bar to stand at. I ordered un caffè eccelente (espresso with a touch of chocolate) and it was really extremely good. One thing that I have found about the coffee in Italy is yes, it is much stronger, but doesn’t need the same amount of sugar or cream I usually like because it is not as acidic or bitter as American coffee is. It is very nice and smooth and easy to drink whereas American coffee is often watery and bitter. All except for my all time coffee love of my life at Philz in Berkeley which I miss dearly!

After our short coffee break, since all coffee breaks in Italy are short, we decided to try to figure out how to use the metro. I am slightly terrified of public transportation that I am not used to (I still have yet to take Muni in San Francisco because of this) and the transportation system in Italy has always overwhelmed and terrified me. But on this day we conquered that fear and took the metro, which was kind of just like BART back in the Bay. It was easy, fast, and there was a man playing the accordion inside the car we were standing in which is always an added bonus.

We took the metro to the famous Pizzarium, a to go gourmet pizza place with real Roman pizza and very fresh amazing Roman ingredients. I had been once before and like it, but wasn’t extremely impressed, but this time entirely changed my mind. The pizza was hands down the most amazing thing I had eaten in Rome to date.

One slice was a simple Mozzarella di Buffala (Mozzarella made from buffalo milk) and basil on a fresh cooked pizza and a splash of olive oil. But the other, my gosh, the other was amazing. Every time I come here there are a few flavors that just look scary to me because I either have no idea what it is, or it is something I normally would avoid. But I had decided to try one flavor that scared me every time I went, and I was not disappointed. The other slice I got was a slice with Sicilian broccoli, some sort of meat like prosciutto, potatoes, and some sort of orange marmalade. It was to die for! The mixture of vegetables, salty cured meat, and the sweet orange zest was truly an incredible experience and I felt like for the first time I was going on a culinary adventure in Italy. It blew my mind.

With caffeine and delicious pizza in our stomachs we decided we would continue our adventures across the city in Villa Borghese. A huge garden complex filled with museums, fountains, statues, and just plan old nature in the heart of Rome. We wandered around the park looking at the statues and enjoying the long curve of the umbrella pines as we made our way to the main gallery, Villa Borghese.

The museum is housed in an old mansion in the back of the park and we weren’t sure if we would be able to get in because you usually need reservations for a specific time slot, but we thought what the heck, why not try? The day had been so great so far, it wouldn’t be ruined if one thing didn’t go our way. So we went there and not only were we able to get in right at that very moment with no wait, but we also got in for only 2 euros verses the normal 16 euros due to the kindness of a very nice woman.

The Gallery was incredible. I have never appreciated galleries or art as much as I did when looking upon the Bernini sculptures housed in that place. The art there was incredible, not even just the art but the entire building, every inch covered in paintings or frescos. It was a never ending amusement park that just got better and better as you passed from one room to the next. We also happened to go to the gallery on the day that a Giacometti exhibit was starting, so not only did we get to see the normal art (and classifying it as normal is near blasphemy) we also got to see Giacometti’s amazing sculptures. The juxtaposition of Giacometti’s ghostly, thin wraith like metal sculptures and Bernini’s grand white marble statues full of movement, strength, and life was interesting and enhanced the experience a lot.

I love art, always have and always will. But I was never really a huge museum person, at least not a serious one, but in this gallery I felt like for the first time I was able to see the attributes and value of the art itself and the artistry and impossible work that went into making the pieces that stood before me. Bernini blew my mind. His David statute I could stare at for hours. The intense stare locked on the unseen Goliath, his body twisted and tense as he gets ready to unleash the sling, and even his mouth was a thin taught line of tension. A masterful capture of life, movement, athletic activity, and passion caught in a statue of cold unfeeling marble. I could have stayed the entire time just looking upon that statue.

It was an awe inspiring two hours, after a long but amazing day. It is hard to form words after a day like that, hard to say how amazing the art was, or how appreciative I was at getting to see the Pope. So many unspeakable things that just made for a wonderful day. With no words left in me to speak, we all split up and went our separate ways. For me that meant sitting underneath the cover of ancient columns in the park while listening to a man play the accordion masterfully nearby. I sat there surrounded by old statues with missing limbs and read my book, trying to make sense of how wonderful the day had been. Wondering at how much I really needed that day because it had been really rough. School is hard, life abroad is hard, so much is difficult, so much is not inherent or easy here. Days like last Wednesday keep my alive and remind me what all this hard work is for. Every hardship is a reminder that I have to work for this life, so much is given to me in so many different forms, the least I can do is put in grateful and humble effort into the work that I must do as a thank you to everyone who has helped me get here, even myself.

Tags: galleria borghese, italy, papa francesco, pope, rome, vatican, villa borghese
Posted in Photos, Thoughts, Travel Updates |

Beautiful Catastrophe

Wednesday, May 14th, 2014

Rome is a city of juxtaposition. A place where two unlike things are constantly colliding with one another; sometimes resulting in a beautiful abstract work of art, and others producing nothing but a colossal disaster of a mess. The result is not always pretty, but it makes for an interesting spectacle. Eternally stuck between two extremes, Rome is a world where complete opposites sit civilly across the table from one another sipping coffee. Of the thousands of juxtaposed attributes of this city, it is the coexistence of exaggerated slowness and frantic haste that intrigues me the most.

I spent my Saturday morning at the Prati market called Trionfale, nestled in the back streets behind the Vatican. This market was once a huge open air extravaganza and is now technically still an open market, just housed inside a large facility with stalls for vendors to use. Five rows of vendors stretch across this huge facility, each stand filled to the brim with the food of their trade, be it milk and cheese products, the meats of butchers, the breads of bakers, or fruits and vegetables, they are here at a very low price.

This market is the epitome of this strange juxtaposition of urgency, impatience, and haste co-inhabiting the same space as leisure, painstaking slowness, and practiced appreciation of minute details. When I stepped under the cover of the market and out of the downpour of rain outside, folding my umbrella neatly and carefully, I was able to make my very first observations of the market: I was completely overwhelmed. Hundreds of people jammed down skinny aisles all moving in a thousand different directions, or worst of all, not moving at all. It’s like getting caught amongst salmon during spawning season who are all trying to head up stream. Except all the salmon forgot which way was up stream. And the stream was coming from five different directions. And the stream is flooding. And bears are trying to eat you, did I forget that part? Yah, it is kind of like that.

Vendors yelling at you, Ciao bella! Trying to draw you in all at the same time. Native Italians who have been doing this their whole lives wedging in front of you yelling out their orders before you have time to say Buon Giorno because you look like a tourist who just got slapped in the face with a fish. Little old ladies who you are trying not to step on because they look so fragile and small, but they just bustle past you without a worry, running your foot over with their market cart. People trying to speak to you quickly in Italian as you try to explain you can’t speak nor understand anything very well.

But. Vendors also kindly handing you free samples of the best prosciutto you have ever had, or a taste of pecorino romano, a delicious Roman cheese. Or vendors giving you extra tomatoes and salad mix just because you smiled and said thank you. Native Italians helping you order something you don’t know how to say, or helping me reach something that was too far away for my short arms. Little old ladies stopping to talk, and talk with you slowly about how crazy the amount of people there are in the market on that given day, or nice little old ladies telling you where to buy the best bread and eggs.

This is the mixture of experiences, jostled moments in the market. The interactions that are written down in the book of what Italian life is, caught in the current of two different streams of life. One rushing downhill like a hurricane coming ashore, the other a wide berthed river lesiurely ebbing with the tide. People crushing you like a lost ant who lost the line back home, or stopping to take the time to help a wounded creature who knows no better than walking into the trap laid by a hunter in wait. The difference between haste and slowness. People who won’t give the time of day, and people who will give you every second of their lives and then some for no reason at all but to be kind.

In the chaos of it all I probably took several laps around the entire market feeling hopelessly lost and out of place. Overwhelmed by the sheer amount of people, all the different vendors selling mostly the same things at different prices, and the strangeness of it all. This market is so far from anything I had ever experience, both in the people and in the actual goods being sold here. The butcher stands are the most shocking and hard to get used to. There are entire animal carcasses hanging or lying in the display case. Heads of boars perched above like the guardian overseers of the market place, endless chains of sausages, and whole smoked or cured animal legs just waiting to be carved up for the next customer.

But this strangeness is part of the beauty of the entire spectacle. The very fact that these strange things, strange experiences that seem so out of this world to me are now the quotidian everyday aspects of my life is just so hard to come to terms, but it is what makes the expat life so wonderful.

I finally stopped in the center of the market, took a deep breath and actually slowed my frantic pace enough to truly see what was around me. A vendor selling every type of nut I had ever seen before was right in front of me. I didn’t buy anything, but I stood there marveling at the beauty of the scene. There was so much beauty here in the chaos, I just needed to step back and actually look at it to truly see.

But it isn’t just the physical speed of the market that marks it as the epicenter of a massive juxtaposition, it is how people act and feel. It is the actions done in patient slowness and careful tenderness like the woman working as a butcher who takes artful time to slowly carve paper thin slices of prosciutto. The deliberate strokes, the steady hand, and the total focus she has on just that moment, that one action as all else falls away. I waited in total silence, enrapt in this small moment of slowness. As soon as she was finished with her task and done serving me, she became a vendor again crying out to the crowds, trying to bring in the people to her stand. It was such a dramatic shift from slow deliberate and tender caring motions to the rapid gesticulating of a vendor quickly speaking in italian to strangers to get them to buy their food. But knowing, underneath the hasty, and rapid gesticulations was a careful and caring artisan who cared deeply about her product and caring for the customer.

Everyone you see seems to be in a hurry to get somewhere fast, yet the very same people who will push you in the narrow aisles can be seen just a few vendors away, taking exorbitant amounts of time to smell a clementine to see if it is just ripe enough to be sweet to the taste.

It is a beautiful catastrophe. To observe and partake in this amazing spectacle of human activity is truly an experience. To be both in the thick of bustling life, but be outside of it at the same time to be able to witness both sides of the clashing extremes in the tiniest of moments that would be so easy to miss when swept away by the undertow ebb and flow of Italian life.

This is the struggle, but also the gift of this life I find myself living here in Rome. The pull between being swept away by the habitual ritual of living life in Rome, and the constant awe that overwhelms me at random moments because this beautiful catastrophe belongs to me, every ounce of its beauty, and every ounce of its pain. It is so easy to be caught up in the urgency and haste that is so prevalent in Italy, exhibited in things like the market, or the traffic, dear lord the driving in Italy is horrifying, but everything around me is a constant reminder of how extraordinary this life truly is. The fact that when I hurry to school every morning I pass by the Vatican, cross the Tiber River, and walk under the watchful and protective gaze of the Archangel Michael who wields his sword from atop Castel Sant’Angelo, and that this is entirely normal. This is normal yet so very extraordinary. I hope to never forget that. Even when the weeks turn into months, I hope to be apart of the flow of this city, but not a part of the haste that sweeps away the ability to truly see the things around me.

Though my life and time here is already passing by quickly as the marker for my third week here fast approaches, I will never cry out as Job did saying

My days are swifter than a runner, they speed by without seeing happiness. Job 9:25

I will take hold of this juxtaposition of Rome and embrace the collision of swiftness and slowness to live a life here that is without regret, and instead is full of appreciation for every little thing that I encounter while I am here. Though my days are swift, I will never forget to stop and see with happiness the blessings placed before me.

Tags: artisan, expat, food, hurried, italia, italy, job, life in italy, market, pace, patience, roma, rome, slow, trionfale
Posted in Photos, Thoughts, Travel Updates |

Archive for May, 2014

Temple Guardians

The Difference a Daisy Can Make

Il Giorno dei Libri

Afterimage

Orvieto: Above and Below

Window Watching

Grit and Graffiti

Through the Looking Glass and Back

Beautiful Catastrophe

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