Notes from Italy
November 25, 2006 at 14:00 The beauty of Rome is its mystery as well as its history. Here the foundation of Western Civilization laid by the Greeks was built upon layer by layer through the millennia. Rome offers astounding architecture, classical sculptures, Renaissance art, magnificent monuments, and religious and civic buildings that loom larger than life.
Turn a corner in the traffic-clogged city and catch your breath at the sight of the Colosseum. Step behind the door of an unassuming church and discover a sculpture by Michelangelo or Bernini or a painting by Raphael or Caravaggio. Follow the line of shops down a narrow alley and discover it ends in a broad piazza flanked by classical buildings and gigantic fountains. Rome is full of surprises—the unexpected junctures of old and new, Christian and Pagan, modern and traditional. Rome, the cradle of civilization and the birthplace of the Renaissance continues to impress and inspire.
A few observations linked less to the sights and more to the culture:
In the taxi from the airport:
Palm trees? Orange trees? Exotic pines? I had no idea I’d find these in Rome.
London and Paris are elegant gray ladies, Brussels' moody skies are off set by its rich red brick buildings and peaked tile roofs, but Italy is golden like the sun—sand-colored stucco, shades of mustard, egg-yolk yellows, creamy caramels, terracottas, soft apricot, and pale creams are punctuated by the occasional pink or coral building. The flat-topped roofs host lavish green gardens, rows of antennae, strings of laundry.
Why Italian women are skinny girls with great asses:
Stairs, stairs, and more stairs. Dozens of stairs to get in and out of the Metro, five flights of stairs (100 steps) to get to our apartment, stairs at the piazzas, stairs at the museums, stairs in the parks, stairs in the monuments, stairs to reach the ruins--and hills in between.
I never felt so old and useless as I did huffing and puffing up countless steps, my legs aching, my breath getting jagged, my feet tired and battered by cobblestones. I kept telling myself this was good for my butt in the long term even if it was killing me in the short term.
At St. Peter’s Basilica, you can reach the top of its famous dome by climbing 320 steps. A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that my heart literally and figuratively denied me.
E and the kids went the distance and told me later it was quite a challenge. As they ascended the dome, the steps spiral tightly and lean and you have to hang onto a rope and pull yourself up. Hearing that made me glad I spent an hour in the souvenir shop below instead.
The “Oh My!” factor
Let’s just say Italians display affection in ways that indicate they’re not the least bit inhibited by the larger than life presence of the Catholic Church.
Sure, there’s romance and tenderness in some of the face stroking and soul searching glances, but there’s an awful lot of raw lust on parade.
To the guy mounting his girlfriend doggy style in Borghese park—put it on a leash, please. To the girl straddling her boyfriend on a park bench with her blouse and pants unbuttoned and her boyfriend’s hand IN THE FRONT OF HER PANTS--go to confession or get a room before I take photos and blog your indiscretions!
Can’t wipe the smile off my face:
I met the Free Hugs people at Trevi Fountain and shocked my reserved and vaguely suspicious family by partaking in not just one, not just two, but three free hugs from complete strangers.
It was wonderful. The best. And one day, you may see me at the Grand Place in Brussels advancing the Free Hugs movement.
Italian pizza:
I order a vegetarian pizza and I’m surprised it includes neither sauce nor cheese. Instead a soft, yeasty crust is smothered in zucchini, sweet red peppers, eggplant, and mushrooms that have been sautéed in olive oil. The slightly salty crust was cooked over open flames and had a smoky flavor. Perfection.
Best view:
I enjoyed touring the Colosseum far more than I expected to, but it was the Palatine that blew me away. The site of palatial Roman ruins among cypress, pine, and olive trees, it crowns a prominent, historic hill overlooking the city.
As we climbed the hill and moved among the ruins, the late afternoon sun broke through the cloud cover, bathing the view in golden light that contrasted against the deep purple gray of the skies. It was breathtaking. Unforgettable.
With the modern and ancient city highlighted below, I thought of Satan tempting Jesus in the wilderness by showing him a vision of the kingdoms of the world. I imagine the vision he conjured looked like the view from The Palatine.
Well shut my mouth:
Walking through a vast park in the city, I stumble across a small monument to George Washington and the Italians that helped him win the American Revolution. Excuse me--the Italians that helped him win the American Revolution? Clearly I missed something in American History.
The monument was erected by the Daughters of the American Revolution, who apparently have a chapter in Rome. I wonder if there's such a thing as the Italian Daughters of the American Revolution?
The Watchtower knows no limits:
Wherever I go in the world, the Jehovah Witnesses find me. On a remote area off the coast of North Carolina. In Brussels. In Paris. And yes, even in Rome. In London, the Scientologists attempted to explain Dianetics to me.
On the TV:
No CNN, no Weather Channel. Old Westerns, Power Rangers episodes, endless ads (dubbed in Italian) for Tony Little’s “Gazelle” trainer and for Baby Chou Chou, and news casts that involve buxom women in low-cut shirts reading excerpts from the newspaper in their hands. I nearly died when the cameras would zoom in on the newspaper so the “reporter” could point to a photo associated with the story or some text marked with a yellow highlighter on the page. Why research your own stories when you can read someone else's?
My daughter, the tourist attraction:
Whenever we travel in major cities, E-Grrrl draws the attention of Asian tourists. She is very fair with platinum blonde hair and light blue eyes, and inevitably the dark-haired, dark-eyed tourists from Asia ask to take her picture or they motion for her to pose with some landmark. In Italy, where most of the natives are brown-eyed brunettes, she really stood out in the crowds.
(More on Rome to follow...stay tuned)
Copyright 2006 Veronica McCabe Deschambault. All rights reserved. www.v-grrrl.com
November 25, 2006
Italy
Reader Comments (8)
I can't wait to go someday. I can't wait!
:)
I can't wait to see you on the next FREE HUGS video!
Is it just as hard to cross the large boulevards nowadays? When I was there, I was petrified of crossing the streets, the cars would come whizzing past at frightening speeds. And they would stop for pedestrians, but I never trusted that instinct, and always schlepped across behind other veteran Italians who had the street-crossing down to a science.
Looking forward to hearing about the rest of your travels.