Keyholes, Doors, Reflections

One entryway always leads to another world. 

I loved following this turn in this road and seeing a man reading the paper outside his front door.

Me and Kathryn, one of my roommates, looking into a fancy clothing store.

 One of my favorite glimpses. This is a courtyard for an apartment. It's common for Italian apartments to have one big door, and then a hallway into a courtyard, which greets you with a statue before proceeding to the stairs. Because the rooms are always tall to allow the heat to rise, you don't feel claustrophobic like you can in the streets. I caught a glimmer of this through a door someone had left open. It was truly like looking through a little keyhole.

 The classic vine over the doorway. This time, just direct stairs up to the apartment.

 There is a lot of graffiti in Rome. I love how the light pours through though. Rome might as well be called the "city of light," whatever the Parisians say :) This is the apartment above, but I haven't zoomed in on the woman yet.

A reflection in the holy water. Floating in the upper left corner is Santa Maria (Mary).

The windows in the churches are always glowing. I do believe the wall is gold. Going into such gorgeous churches, it's amazing thinking about how much money, time and energy it took to make them. I can understand why people responded so differently (and why it spurred Martin Luther to begin the reformation).

 A sunset view of the Vatican City (St. Peter's I think.)

Do not rest, for today is a day for poets!

So...everyone has been feeling pretty overwhelmed here.
I mean, it's Rome. It's like wading through layers. You feel the weight of the sun, the heaviness of the smoke, the dirt on the ground (and the dogs poop freely :) and the sheer gravity of the history, and all the remarkable beauty- absolutely impossible to capture. It's begun to feel more and more like swimming up stream.
I was thinking today, it'd be nice to be in a dark forest right now. A safe, pleasant one that's moist with huge stars above and a nice tree hole to just curl into. Also, a BIG drenching thunderstorm. No smoke, no aggressive drivers, no people, and fresh mountain air. For just a little while.
But I won't complain anymore. It probably sounds silly. (It actually is nice to write about the things I see, because at the same time it helps me work through the flood of sensory overload.)

Today we went to see the Keats and Shelly house. It sits on the right side of the Spanish Steps.

Keats and Shelly were friends. Keates lived a very short life and died tragically at the age of 24 in this house, separated from his love in England. Shelly is another important Romantic writer, though I mostly remember his wife who wrote Frankenstein.
Ode to A Grecian Urn by Keats: http://www.bartleby.com/101/625.html

Fun facts about Keats:
He was less than 5' tall, and felt very manly around his love Fanny, who was shorter than him.
When gravely ill with tuberculosis in Rome, he hated pasta and would throw the plates delivered to him out the window.
He wrote his best works while sick. Sorry if this is a gross fact, but after his death the doctors discovered his lungs were absolutely gone- consumed by the disease. It is amazing that he lived so long with it.
He was fascinated with "beauty and truth."
He was buried with his love letters from Fanny unopened, too pained to read them.

The house is now a sort of museum. We saw letters, original books, the library, even letters about Keats by Walt Whitman, Theodore Roosevelt, and Oscar Wilde. To the right, his sketch of an urn from the Louvre that inspired "Ode to a..."

His supposed "death bed" was there, along with some odd things that felt more creepy to me than thoughtful: locks of hair of the Shellys and him, the jawbone of Mr. Shelly in an urn... I suppose keeping these things meant something different than today.

An encounter with the gods

All the gods are in ruins now.
Vespas sputter by, tearing through the streets
Locals smoke cigarettes under a gently hissing fountain,
Tourists gawk through cameras, pointing-
see, look how the gods have crumbled now.

Yet their throne remains, in perfect sphere.
Enter into its mouth,
descend down its marble throat
into the cool belly.
A distant memory- the street noise fading,
as your own greatness unhinges,
and above you it rises,
the blue orb,
the perfect holy water,
a vessel to the eternal.
Stare. Stare as it closes in on you, ever closing and ever growing.

How did one speak to the gods here thousands of years ago?
Did the gods demand joy or mournful penitence?
Did music charm their ears?
Did bowed heads inspire revelation and healing?
Or was it the silence that they desired most?

Yet the gods are in ruins, replaced by saints
solemn marble, aglow and gazing,
calm, yet strangely full of vigor
as if having once lived.
How they speak of holy things among such earthly people.

But the small man on the cross, hidden near the golden sarcaphagus
does not stare.

Is heaven achieved by the grandest schemes
or extended through the arms of suffering?




Below: entrance to the Pantheon.
A perfect inner sphere, it was first built as a place of worship for the gods, which were represented in statues surrounding it. Now, the statues are in ruins but the temple still stands.

(When I was first entering I felt like I was going into the Mines of Moria from Lord of the Rings)

View of the ceiling from inside:

 

Below, another glimpse of the inside and two of the many statues who look upon the church.
It has been a powerful draw for the ancient Romans, Catholics, and even the Nazis during WWII. They barged through its doors to plunder the gold inside, but instead circled their horses back out the door, unable to destroy such a breathtaking place.

 

Below is Raphael's glowing burial, and to the right, the crucifix I referenced.

Engraved in Latin on Raphael's sarcophagus is: "Here lies Raphael, by whom Nature feared to be outdone while he lived, and when he died, feared that she herself would die."  

It is hard to see, but in the middle are two birds holding beaks. They almost look as though they are tumbling mid-air.

Snapshots from Getting "Lost"

We had a daring writing prompt yesterday: Get lost in the city and write about it. A little crazy and intimidating, right? Armed with my little bit of Italian, a map, notebook, and gelato, I wandered.
Along the way I was asked for directions, which was hilarious. I also made my way back home without a map which was a success!
When learning to really "see" Rome, it's interesting what details you'd otherwise miss by rushing, and what sticks in your mind that a camera cannot capture as well. I've realized that I need to take less pictures and write more. Here are some observations so far:

Ants scattering across cobblestone, crushed cigarettes, receipts, a brochure to an opera
a boy and girl race their bikes up a hill, the boy sighs in an accent
a pink flower, like folded tissue paper rolls by
a dog pees on a car, its owner stands nearby and doesn't stop it
a giant stuffed animal octapus lounges in a tree beside a playground
the bike bells go "chin chin!" just like the way Italians say "cheers!" and tap their glasses together
books abandoned and sprawled across a bench
a strip of bark falls
a man lifts a woman's hair
a man, head bowed, clutches a crucifix above him near the church door
birds restlessly weave patterns in the sky
lovers kiss under a saint
a man playing "somewhere over the rainbow" on accordian for tourists at a restaurant
huge doors with iron knockers, some fit into the mouths of iron lions
silverwear, china rattling
a sultry woman singing over a techno-beat resonates from a trendy shoe store 
a door to an apartment complex is left open. Inside, a dark walkway to a glowing inner courtyard with a statue of a woman. She is like looking at sunlight through a keyhole.
a man walks by, whistling to himself
a boy runs down the alley, his feet going "thump thump thump" against the stone

Sleepless in Seattle...er, Rome

Hello friends! I feel like I've been ambitious with this blogging thing, perhaps trying vainly to capture everything that I see and share it all. The truth is that I can't. But it is nice to still feel connected to all of you back home.
So much has happened already, I feel as if I've been here a week, not a mere couple days.

Last night we went out to our first real Italian restaurant, and I ordered my first pasta and red wine here. It was so delicious! The cook was sitting right next to our table making gnochi, and we had a pleasant conversation with her throughout the evening in our broken Italian. The waiter was wonderful as well.

On our way back to our apartment, I ended up throwing up over the bridge (over the Tiber river), which was a bit comical in the midst of such a beautiful, charming night. I hope that didn't ruin anyone's meal at the outdoor restaurant below me! I had been feeling a bit off from the heat, jetlag and a salad earlier, but still a bummer. I haven't slept well, and am trying to pass the time this morning until I feel tired again.

The Campo Dei Fiori, the marketplace right by the Rome Center, has been a blast to explore! It has a haunting history though (the statue in the middle). Here is a link to a poem with an interesting take on Giordano Bruno. He has come to represent free expression in our time.

http://www.poetryarchive.org/poetryarchive/singlePoem.do?poemId=8962

As we have quickly discovered, Rome is a city of many contractions- beautiful, ugly, modern, ancient, dirty, dainty... as one of our professors called it, "a city of light and darkness." In all of the confrontational beauty and the epic history, it is a city very much aware of mortality.

To the right- was once the center of the world for its time, our Hollywood or WA DC of today, now empty and covered in dust. It is awe-inspiring and sobering.




Alright, time to try sleeping again. Ciao!

Arrival in Roma

Buonguorno! I think it’s around 6 in the morning Italian time. The birds here are not dainty like Seattle birds. They honk like “ow ow ow ow ow owww” and whistle like a horde of kids blowing loudly through recorders. Or like squeezing one of those dog toys. A lot of dog toys. I fell asleep and woke up to them, and for awhile couldn’t figure out if they were actually birds or the locals. I think we’ve confirmed they are birds? The neighbors were also having a very dynamic conversation this morning. Clearly, everyone and everything is louder here.

(Below, our view of the neighbor's laundry. We are in the Seattle equivalent of the International District of Rome)

Yesterday we took a taxi from the airport to our hostel. We were all pretty dead by the time we boarded our plane. I tried to sleep, but then got too excited when we flew over the Alps and North Italy emerged from my window.

I expected an overwhelming airport, manipulative taxi drivers, scorching heat, and pick pocketers to be swarming. It wasn’t nearly as bad. Finding the line for a taxi was very challenging, but we finally got one with the official emblem of Rome. It took the driver many attempts to fit all of our luggage into the trunk, he finally succeeded and we were off.

An interesting thing about Italian driving, although they drive on the right side of the road, they don’t ever use blinkers, and shift between lanes frequently. Sometimes our driver would just hang out over the white line for awhile. They drive for openings in any lane, doesn’t matter how often they switch (which would look like a jerk-move in America).

Along the way he pointed out sites, like San Paolo (St. Peter’s) and the collesium. Traffic got bad, and our driver gave them a piece of his mind. It was so classic Italian I wanted to chuckle, but held it in. It took awhile to find our street, but we finally arrived. The entrance to Hostel Star Light was a single door, which led to a large courtyard, and another door, which revealed many flights of cement stairs to our hostel at the top. Remember those stairs at the end of Bourne Identity 1? Yep, just like those. It was quite a treck to the top with all of our luggage and jet lag. I tried to swallow my unease and disregard how easily it would be to fall.
 

Our room was pretty cute- happy bed spreads and a very high ceiling (and a great view of all our neighbors haha). We were given our keys (which work upside down). I didn’t care about dinner, and after learning I couldn’t access WiFi went to bed.

Everyone is awake now. We’re aching everywhere from wearing our heavy backpacks and walking so much. But we’re pretty happy to be here. Today we’ll head to the Rome Center, outsmart any thiefs on our way, and get the keys for our apartments.

A presto!

Exploring Frankfurt

Wow, what a long day. I’ve managed to stay awake the past 24 hours and will crash when we arrive in Rome tonight.

Our flight to Frankfurt, Germany was very smooth. Lufthansa took very good care of us- 2 warm meals, coffee, tea, hand sanitizers, pillows, blankets, movies and TV shows to chose from... For around 9 hours, it wasn’t so bad.

I learned in my class reading today that I am very happy I never lived during the Roman Empire or was acquainted with its many tyrants. Fascinating stories though! Conspiracies, betrayal, brutal ambition, lots of divorces (not to mention the many stabbings and suicides.) Soap opera/Shakespearean material to trumph all others I’ve heard of, a very long history that will continue to be fascinating to learn about.

After we arrived in Frankfurt, the baggage claim checker persuaded us to take a train into the city and enjoy our long layover. We were very hesitant, but she persisted, offering us easy directions, train numbers, and a comfortable time frame to come back.

It was the best decision we could have made. The train ride was charming, to say the least, despite accidentally sitting in 1^st class and having an awkward conversation with the ticket checker. We managed to find a Starbucks when we arrived to get some free WiFi (thank you Starbucks!) And then we had about 4 hours to wander around the city. It was the best thing ever to just see where we’d end up (while using a large clock tower as our landmark). 

Within a minute of being outside, I heard a man murmur “...Americans...” amidst the German gibberish, clearly directed towards us. I chuckled to think of how very “American” we looked, wearing our stuffed carry-on backpacks, clicking cameras, wide eyed, a bit dazed and smiling. But amidst the wonder of the city, my growing exhaustion, and constantly eying my belongings, I wanted to fit in more. I could only remember “danka” and “nine!” (sp?), and wished I could communicate better and understand how I might demonstrate respect in their culture. 

Despite this, I was able to order a bratwurst sandwich (which was fantastic) with the help of a couple Germans who saw me fumbling. It was strange to feel so completely helpless, but at the same time very safe (being in a group of four, we were able to easily look out for each other and quickly resolve any confusion).

I’ll close with some unique aspects of Germany we encountered:

Motion sensitive escalators, closet-like bathrooms with confusing soap containers, smoking zones, bike lanes built into the roads like an extra sidewalk, adorable cars, fat and happy pigeons, a mish-mash of old and new, amazing whiffs of food- from sausages to bakeries to Italian pizzerias, and a lot less blond people than I expected (yeah I stereotyped J).


The chocolate shop I went into was established in 1875. That’s around as old as UW, and it’s crazy to think about how in America, that’s really, really old.
Amidst much older buildings and German stores, they also had branches, like Apple, McDonalds, H+M, but still with a European flavor. McDonalds is much healthier and provides the classic European outdoor/umbrella seating.

Below is a picture of me with 2 of the 3 other girls, Melissa on my left, Chelsea on my right.



Below, a beautiful garden/park we explored.

Here is a picture of an opera house we stumbled upon. It looked very much like something I'd expect in Rome.

Anyway, wrapping up our Frankfurt experience, very blessed that we had the opportunity to learn more about Germany and escape the monotony of the airport. I still can’t believe I’m here! It doesn’t feel real yet.