Venezia + Bologna

I like Venice.

This might seem somewhat obvious to you – who wouldn’t like Venice? To be honest, though, when my family and I were there two summers ago, I didn’t particularly care for it. I can’t remember exactly why this was (I do think that a major part was that when we had calamari at a restaurant, I found it below par), but I remember coming away thinking that the place was too gimmicky for my taste. Now, we did have some amazing experiences there, like a glass-blowing demonstration and seeing Murano glass worth tens of thousands of euros, and the chance discovery of Alessandro’s book-binding shop (more on that later), and it is beautiful in many ways. Still, when put up against Rome and Florence and Amalfi, I enjoyed it the least.

This trip changed all that for me. Friday morning my friends Jess, Abby, Jake, Heather, and Ryan and I all departed early in the morning to take the train to Firenze and on to Venezia. We then hiked the mile and a half of winding streets and stairs and bridges until we located our hotel, the Hotel Bel Sito. We discovered through a series of snafus that the lodging was actually going to be quite a bit more expensive than we had figured on, but it ended up being worth it; the rooms were beautiful, breakfast was included, and we were a 5 minute walk from Piazza di San Marco, the center of Venetian life.

Jake and I took a quick walk while everyone got settled, following the “PER S.MARCO →” signs that had led us from the train station. About two minutes into this, we walked over a bridge and I stopped him. There, right in front of us, was “La Ricerca,” Alessandro’s shop! Let me give you some background into this. When my family was in Venezia, we broke away from the tour at one point to try and go to Harry’s Bar, a ritzy place right off of Piazza S. Marco, which is famous for two things: being the hangout spot of Ernest Hemingway, and the birthplace of the Bellini, a drink made with prosecco and frozen peach sorbet. Since Hemingway was of course no longer slouched on the stool nursing his Montgomery martini, we were there for the drink. Unfortunately, Dad was wearing capris, and so, because trousers were required, we were unable to actually enter. This was for the better, both because Harry’s Bar is overpriced and overrated, and because it caused us to wander down some side alleys.

We were first drawn to the shop with the green weathered awning because of the masks. Since it was early July, the tourist catcher shops and kiosks were bulging with the same Made in China chintzy masks. When you start to see something everywhere you begin to never see it, like the leaves on trees or tiles on roofs. The masks in Alessandro’s shop were like delicate leaves with the sun behind them, lighting their patterned ductwork and casting a glow on your upturned face. These masks were unique because instead of the normal paper slathered with paint and fake gold, these were simply single colored irregular pieces of leather molded over a form – imagine a face pressing itself out of a piece of thin wet leather, folds falling away from tightened areas, and you have some idea. This one is a little atypical:


The owner, Alessandro, was a young guy who was very conversant. We came to find that most things in his bookbinding shop, of which the masks were only a small portion of the inventory, were handmade in his workshop about a block away. The walls were lined with leather-bound journals filled with paper milled in Amalfi, cards, letters, and all manner of fine stationary. Being used to (but never completely comfortable with) a world of mass-production, the shop had already an aura of something special, and likely would have stuck in my memory anyway.

But what made Alessandro and La Ricerca one of my family’s top experiences in Italy was the personal attention he paid to us. He was genuinely interested in speaking with people who were like him, appreciative of quality and original manufacture, so that he was speaking with us, not pitching sales. To me and my family, that is the best way to encourage us to buy something, when we know that the money will be used to help continue the production of excellence. Alessandro not only answered our questions about everything in his store, but also decided to take us back to his workshop to show us how everything was made. Only after taking last semester’s printmaking course can I fully appreciate everything we saw in the tiny, bursting space – stacks of gorgeous, creamy paper, a press, inks, sheets of leather hanging from hooks in every available spot. Alessandro explained to us that when he has an idea, he creates a couple of versions and then sets them out in his store; if they sell well, he creates more, and then adds them to his line of products. We left his shop with the perfect close to our trip, heartened that even in that Philistia of commercialism a spark of truth was able to thrive.

And thrive it has. La Ricerca was even more crammed with new, wonderful products, including intaglio prints from a local artist. But what was even more exciting to me was that, after almost two years, Alessandro remembered me and my family! He was just as accommodating as before, inquiring after the health of my family, asking questions about our program, and giving us helpful hints for getting around Venezia (including the fact that you can take a gondola ferry across the Grand Canal for 50 cents). It felt great to have a sort of connection there, and it brought back memories that were even better now that I was returning on my own. It also was great to introduce fellow artists to this thing that had drawn me so much before.

We did not spend the weekend hanging out in a shop, however. Friday evening we wandered around, and then Saturday we spent a full day of tourism. In the morning we had a delicious breakfast, then walked back to San Marco. I hadn’t had the chance to go inside the Basilica di San Marco last time, so I was not leaving before doing that. The outside of the church is impressive enough, grand, but not in an enormous way like San Pietro in Rome. The inside, though, was even more astounding; it fully earns the nickname “Chiesa d’Oro,” Church of Gold. The ceiling is completely covered with golden mosaics – every square inch, with tiles less than a square centimeter. Dome after dome after dome, laid out in a Greek cross…I could go on, but it won’t do it justice. Like the Basilica di San Francesco, it was clearly (although not as emotively) a sanctified space.

We crossed the Grand Canal to eat lunch and visit the Peggy Guggenheim Collection, a museum of 20th century and contemporary art housed in her former home in the Palazzo Venier dei Leoni. It was so refreshing to see art from our era once again! The collection was really great, too, because it included the more unusual, atypical works of famous artists. For instance, a Kandinsky that I would have sworn was a Paul Klee, or Morandi paintings that weren’t of his normal subjects, or a Calder wall-art piece. There were some really famous works there, however, which I had no idea I would see – Max Ernst’s Attirement of the Bride, for instance, or René Magritte’s Empire of Light (which was really cool). In addition, they had some works by artists who I really love, like Jenny Holzer’s Garden Bench (which I copied into my Moleskine in its entirety) or a sculpture by Anish Kapoor. There was a small exhibit highlighting Furturism, which was alright (not my favorite genre)...but then there was a masterful show called Theme and Variations. From the Mark to the Zero. This was curated by Luca Massimo Barberini (I loved it so much I asked a nervous docent), and had actually just opened the evening before. It contained a group of artists who in some cases would never have their work placed next to each other. The purpose was to show how there is a visual language that is related to our perceptions of written language, and that in both cases language can be reduced to a point of zero - basically, it can be deconstructed down to a point of nothing. The writing introducing the exhibit, and explaining different rooms, was so great, I copied certain parts down. Here are two:

"The obsessive repetition of a symbol or a sign leads ultimately to a condition of zero, a tabula rasa that purifies matter, translating it into minimal and monochrome surfaces...the monochrome inscribes the infinite in the finite, written on the 'pages' of the space around it."

and

"...experiments which, through an investigation of sign, color, and space establish the new syntax of the 'zero': letters and words are no longer recognizable and evocative, but rather concretely translated into the minimal elements and basic coordinates of the experiences of space, time and existence."

After the Guggenheim we took naps, went to the market by the Rialto bridge, ate, and then went on a nighttime gondola ride. This was gorgeous because, since it was the low season, the water was clear of traffic and silence pervaded the dark, narrow canals.

A note about Venezia: it changes your conception of moving through space. Everywhere there is some element constricting movement. You may be walking along a street that is 4 feet wide, and there is no break until you come to the intersection with another street or a small campo. On either side there is a three story wall; forward or backwards are the only possible directions for your body, it is movement upon one single line. Or perhaps there is a canal on your right. This is even more playful with your consciousness because now you have open space on your right, but still without the possibility of using it. Once again, a single line is only possible. Further complicating things, at some points there is a bridge that breaks into this open space on your right, but only in an illusionistic way. It is, again, a single line, although one that includes now vertical motion. The single line is never continuous, though; it is always broken after a short distance by a forced turn, so that to reach something a quarter of a mile away requires charting a path that looks like the New York skyline. I believe this is why everyone is drawn to the Piazza di San Marco – here, one can move in any way she wants. The space, which is not actually that large, seems enormous. Pigeons rising in flight only accentuate this effect. Even after just a day and a half of walking through Venezia, it seemed odd to have that sense of restriction lifted upon leaving. I wonder what it would be like to be one of the American interns working at the Guggenheim for six months, and becoming completely adjusted to moving and thinking in that way, and then leaving. It’s just interesting, is all.

In the morning we booked it back to the train station (ALLA FERROVIA →) to catch our morning train to the city of Bologna in Emilia Romana. Dana had told me that the city was renowned for its beautiful people, and this was true, but we were there primarily for two other elements for which it is famous: Giorgio Morandi and FOOD. They came in that order, as we walked to the Collezioni Comunali d’Arte in the center of town to access the Museo Morandi. It was, as most Morandi paintings and exhibits are, pretty incredible, and they actually had a lot of his prints (after taking the printmaking course last semester, I’m boggled at how he was able to fit in so many lines so close to each other), but in comparison to the exhibit at the Met last fall, which completely spoiled me, it felt a little lacking. Imagine my delight, then, when I discovered that the SAME exhibit is now in Bologna! Unfortunately it’s in a different museum on the other side of town, so we weren’t able to make it then, but hopefully the chance to go back will come up before it closes 13 April. The Museo Morandi also had a special exhibit of industrial photography by Bernd and Hilla Becher...rows of beautiful black and white shots of water tanks and cooling towers from industrial centers all over the world.

After viewing the Morandis, we located a restaurant that Jake had researched. We knew that we wanted to eat well in Bologna since it would likely be the best meal we’d have in Italy, so we were prepared to spend a little more than usual. 25 euros seemed too little to pay for the dance that was played on my tongue. We ordered a DOCG Chianti Classico that was almost perfect, and I ordered a cream tortellini alla bolognese for my primo piatto, following it with a veal and prosciutto cutlet smothered in a cheesy cream of some sort with a side of spinach and mashed potatoes. I have never had an instance in which I became truly emotional about food, but halfway through that veal, as I savored a piece in my mouth, I began to become overwhelmed…no, I did not cry, but it was close! I know I have the tendency to hyperbolize sometimes, but I’m being completely honest, Jake and Ryan can attest to this. It will be a long time before I forget that meal…and it seemed criminal when I eventually grew hungry again.

The rest of the afternoon was spent lounging in a park on the outskirts of town. It was a beautiful, sunny day and we sat for about two hours next to a pond. We then walked back across town to the train station, kicked some Germans out of our reserved seats, and relaxed on the ride back to Orvieto. It was a great weekend, but definitely nice to be back in charted territory.

Today I saw a Ferrari. Tomorrow my drawing class goes to Roma for the weekend.

Primavera

Spring has arrived to Orvieto, and sooner than I expected it would. This afternoon I rolled up my jeans, took off my shoes and socks and sat on my third story stone window sill to take in the sun, much to the chagrin of one of the old nuns puttering around in the garden below (“Oh! Mamma mia!”). Besides frightened sisters out enjoying the warmth, below me was a flowering pink tree in full bloom inhabited by the biggest, blackest bees I’ve seen, grass that is beginning to grow lush and cool in the shade, rich, fresh upturned earth ready to be filled by more than the scattered palm bushes, inactive hoses leading to potted plants whose gorged soil leaked water onto the warm concrete paths, and everything else that makes a garden in the spring fresh and re-consecrated by natural birth and honesty in labor.

Yesterday, St. Patrick’s Day (which I only knew because my roommate is both Irish and was born on the 17th and had his 21st yesterday, which of course means absolutely nothing here), we all traveled to Florence (Firenze) for the first time on one of our many instructional trips. I was excited to go back, both because we’d been to Roma three times already and I’ve become sick of Baroque everything, and because Firenze was my favorite of the three major Italian cities my family and I visited two summers ago. We had a little bit of trouble with a delayed train in the morning, but got going soon enough. Looking back, I feel like it was a bit of an unusual day in terms of what we looked at and what we ignored. For instance, we completely ignored Santa Croce and the district, walked by the Palazzo Vecchio and didn’t even walk up into the sculpture Loggia, etc. But I did have a nice quiet lunch by myself, after which I walked up the street that houses the flagship stores for every major Italian designer (I still like Calvin Klein suiting best, but Zegna…wow). And, of course, Uncle Bobby, I peeked inside the Officine Panerai shop. I had time left before we met in front of the baptistery, so I walked into the Duomo, which I found actually disappointingly boring and plain. Dr. Skillen (or “J Skillz,” as we’ve come to affectionately call him) talked to us for a bit about the baptistery doors, led us over to view the Donatellos in the open air on the Guilds chapel, and across the Ponta Vecchia to Palazzo Pitti and back. While on the other side of the Arno, we stopped into a church briefly to view Pontormo’s “Deposition.” Now, I loathe Mannerism, but I do have to admit that it was an impressive painting; not only could I appreciate the balance of color and the movement, but it also looked much, much better in “real life” than in all the horrid reproductions I’ve seen of it.

Today we had our group presentations on different parts of the Catholic Catechism. My group covered Liturgy and the Sacraments. It went well, even if we were rushed for time. Keith Pecklers, a major figure in the Jesuit world (he’s ABC’s correspondent for all things Vatican) and also the presiding priest at the English-speaking church at Caravita, gave a talk on Ecumenism this afternoon, which was insightful. Tomorrow we have our final for this course, and then the rest of the day to finish up our papers and celebrate the local holiday of San Giuseppe, the patron saint of Orvieto.

Friday, my friends Ryan, Jake, Abby, Heather, Jess and I pack up to head out to Venezia for two nights, returning through Bologna on Sunday. It should be a great end to this first “semester” here in Orvieto. Monday begins Matt’s drawing course…I’m very excited for it.

Edit: how did I forget this? My favorite part of yesterday was going to the Dominican monastery San Marco (which is now just a museum) in Firenze. Why? The entire thing is filled with Fra Angelico frescoes! Every cell had its own...not to mention the awe-inspiring Annunciation, for which he is best known. I'm not even going to try to put into words the overwhelming nature of that place.

Assisi

While our days have been packed with class and eating and naps (yes!), we have found plenty to do in the evenings, especially on weekends. On Thursdays there is live music at one of our favorite caffes, Caffe Cavour; recently we also discovered a bar that hosts jazz and blues on the weekends (I think we're going to blues night tonight). These are really great times, because it's often a smaller group of us, out in the local sphere of things, sharing a bottle or two of wine and relaxing. This Thursday, we went to our friend Hilary's place (she is a British student who is teaching English here as part of her university requirements, I think I've mentioned her before) so she could show us the place and have some white wine (Orvieto makes the best white wine I've tried; that I actually enjoy drinking some type of white is a constant marvel to me) before we headed over to Cavour. We found, on arrival, that it was karaoke night...we decided that it might be fun all the same, so we stayed. It was kind of fun, even if we had no idea what was going on. The two English songs that did come up we didn't even know, which was too bad because the microphones were immediately passed to us. I also spilled chianti all over my white jacket (thanks for making me take the Oxyclean, mom), so I'll need to visit the drycleaners to try and get the remainder out. Oh well. The last song played, though, was "One" by U2, which I sang. So that was fun.

Friday we drove out to Assisi in three vans to spend what has been one of my favorite days here so far. We first visited the tiny church of San Damiano, where St. Francis first heard the call from Christ to repair his Church. Mistaking it to mean the crumbling physical church he was in, St. Francis sold all the possessions he had at the time to fix it up. It was only after doing so that he realized that Jesus had spoken to him about the Church universal. After walking through it, we had a time of singing in an olive grove next to it. Our friend Alessandro had driven one of the vans, and he brought a guitar for playing English and Italian praise songs.

We then loaded up and drove into the mountains, to visit the small Franciscan monastery Eremo di Carceri. "Eremo" means "hermitage," and it is called this because the monastery is built into the side of the mountain around the grotti (caves) that St. Francis and his followers used for hermitage and meditations. It was a lovely, perfectly serene place in the middle of the woods, with trails cut into the hill. I walked around by myself for a while, cool in the midday under the shade of ancient, gnarled black trees. This set me in a contemplative mood that stayed with me for the rest of the day.

Lunch was in the sun on the side of the mountain outside of Carceri - hunks of fresh bread, a red and green tomato salsa, olives, olive oil, prosciutto, salami, apples, sweet bread...wonderful.

We loaded up and drove into Assisi proper, to walk down to the Basilica of San Francesco d'Assisi. I've been looking forward to seeing this for a long time, primarily because of the Giotto fresco cycle detailing the life of St. Francis. These are amazing, wonderful in their simplicity combined with their compelling arangement. However, I was completely unprepared for what lay beneath.

The Basilica is unusual because it consists of an upper and lower church; essentially, it is two full-fledged nave+transept+apse+side chapels stacked one on top of the other. You enter at the top, which contains the majority of Giotto's work (with a Cimabue thrown in), and then walk out the back to access stairs to the bottom church. This area completely astonished me. I'd been listening to Brooke Waggoner's song "Heal for the Honey" that morning, and in the climax of that song she sings "I'm undone, I'm undone, I'm undone." This phrase, in all the power and wistful beauty it contains in the song, instantly entered my head. The space was dark and vaulted, low and wide, and covered completely by paint, whether the ribs or the spaces in between. The altar was placed directly over the tomb of St. Francis, and there was an air of reverence all around. This only further increased when I descended into the crypt. Coming face to face with the bones of one of the largest figures in Christian history was inspiring and humbling. I spent some time in there praying, and then, since time was pressing, headed back outside. I wish I could have spent a lot more time there, and hopefully I'll be heading back at some point soon. I have never felt any place that was so consciously consecrated and serene as the hermitage and the Basilica. I felt spiritually drained and renewed at the end of the day.

I Love It When You Call Me Il Papa

Quick update:

Yesterday, we left for Roma once again, this time for the weekly Wednesday papal audience! Our friends in high places got us the best tier of seats, so we were about 20 yards directly to Il Papa's left. We practically were the pope. The most exciting part came when they recognized our group's presence as "an ecumenical group of students from Gordon College in the United States," and then Pope Benedict waved to us and blessed us.

Afterward we had an hour long audience with Monsignor Langham, who is part of the Papal Council for the Promotion of Church Unity (PCPCU), to discuss ecumenism. Then, lunch (coconut gelato), and a brief visit to St. Peter's Basilica.

Tomorrow, on to Assisi to see the masterworks of Giotto!

A Weekend in Arezzo and Roma

Well, I’ve just finished two packed days of good, hard, honest fun and adventure (I’m writing this on Sunday evening). Friday evening a small group of us explored a bar that hosts jazz and blues on the weekends. My friend Jake is really into jazz and takes it pretty seriously, so it was good to be there with a group that felt like that. The night’s entertainment was a pianist and female vocalist, who had one of those perfect voices for jazz – slightly, come si dice, strained and smoky at the same time, in only the best of ways, like the kind I would hear a lot at home when I’d stay up listening to the crackled reception of a jazz station in Philly. The wine that Jake picked (a Sangiovese) went along with it perfectly. Unfortunately, we were seated next to an out of control woman who threw pieces of bread at her date and spilled glasses, etc., and then we were beset by some Classic Annoying Americans, who were from, of all places, Kansas. Seriously. Who pregames jazz night? “HEY! You’re much better than those ARIZONA bitches! You can come stay in our apartments anytime! Slurred blah-blah-blah.” Well, thank you. But jazz night was still great, and we’ll definitely be going back in the future.

Yesterday (Saturday), a small group of us (10 in all) took the train to Arezzo for the day, at the suggestion of Professor Skillen. My friend Abby spent a good portion of Friday looking up different places and events that were within the city’s limits, so we went with a pretty good idea of what we wanted to do. We ended up, for various reasons, not doing half of those things, but no one cared at all – the weather was absolutely perfect, and we were content to just walk around and bask in the Italian way of life. I had only known Arezzo beforehand as the birthplace of musical notation (courtesy of one Guido of Arezzo), but it turns out that there is so much more (for one, it was the home of Giorgio Vasari, the founder of "modern" art history). I felt like it was a perfect blend between Orvieto and Roma; slow, and with the small-town feel that comes with elements like the riposa (the break in the middle of the day that Italians take from around 1-4), but larger and more developed. Abby had discovered that Arezzo had a church, the Basilica di San Francesco di Arezzo that contained an apse full of Pierro della Francesca frescoes, a History of the True Cross cycle. These were created in celebration of a beautiful, enormous painted rood crucifix, made by the unknown Maestro di Arezzo. I was reminded instantly of the great Cimabue crucifix that was damaged by the 1966 flood in Firenze, or Giotto’s cross of similar ilk. The church itself was an incredibly old Romanesque basilica model; we just sat inside and looked about us for a while. Oh yeah, there was also a somewhat preserved saint on the right side of the nave.

We hit the Arezzo Duomo next. The Orvieto Duomo is, I feel, a healthy majestic balance of decoration inside and outside, which makes it seem very clean to me. Arezzo’s cathedral is plain on the outside, but very elaborately Baroque on the inside; while I didn’t like this effect as much, it was still awing to see.

Next to the Duomo is a park situated on top of the hill upon which Arezzo is built. We marked it in our minds, and then headed back down into the city to see what we could find and to assemble our lunches. For an hour and half we wandered around, ending up at an open market at which we bought bread, cheese, tomatoes, and cheap wine. I myself bought a cianghiale (wild boar) panino with pecorino, which was incredible, and a small jar of tartuffata, a truffle-based spread which I will save for the appropriate time; it is one of the best tastes in the world. We walked back up the hill and ate in the middle of the park, sharing food and wine and laughing and telling stories. It was completely idyllic, one of the best meals I’ve had so far. The rest of the time we spent walking around and window shopping. By the time we came back that evening, I was pretty tired and knew that we would have to get up early for a full day in Roma the next morning, so I went to bed early.

(I am now writing this Monday afternoon) Sunday, our trip to Roma was filled with church. And churches. We hopped a bus out of Termini and headed down to the center of all things Jesuit, the Coleggio Romano. We visited the Church of St. Ignatius, which had a frescoed ceiling (and fake dome) that, due to perspective, only “made sense” from one single point on the floor. That was pretty amazing, I wasn’t really a fan of the place because it was so Baroque – pastels everywhere (it’s like they forgot about half of the spectrum), colored marble and gilding dripping off of the walls, etc. We had time, though, to visit the Basilica di Sta. Maria sopra Minerva (called that because it was built over, “sopra,” the site of a former temple to Minerva), which is right next to the Pantheon. Most of present day Rome dates back to the Baroque period, but this is one of the only churches in the city that is truly medieval. To me, it felt like a breath of fresh air; the vaulted ceiling was lower lying and a deep, rich blue that seemed to make the space calm and sober, complemented by the (sparing) gold on the maroon and red painted ribs and the dark wood and stone. The small rose windows in the clerestory looked like geometric Tiffany glass, the whole area was very beautiful and very contemplative. Oh, and it had a Michelangelo.

From that church we went to the Jesuit church at St. Francis Xavier del Caravita to celebrate the mass…in English! There was a small congregation of English speaking believers who welcomed us in and prepared us for worship. Unlike most churches, and certainly most churches in Italy, the altar had been brought out into the middle of the congregation, which was seated in rings around it. A visiting bishop from America presided over the service. It amazed me, now that I’ve heard the mass in English, how much my own church back home has lifted from the Catholic liturgy. After a prayer or at some point the people would respond with a certain line, and I wondered for a minute why I already knew what to say – and then I realized it was because we say it at the same times back home! My favorite part of the liturgy at The City’s Gate church is when, right before we take communion, the congregation says “Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ will come again.” This we actually sang on Sunday, but it gave me a sudden depth of understanding of how unified all Christians actually are. We’ve been talking a lot in class about ecumenism, and so it was comforting to have now both head/intellectual and experiential knowledge of what ecumenism feels like.

After the mass was finished, we enjoyed a reception time of apperitivi (prosecco and mimosas in church!), and then listened to one of the priests give a brief explanation of the church and its purpose. He told us that more and more churches are beginning to centralize the altar in the midst of the congregations since Vatican II, but that the practice actually has been for a very long time a monastic way of conducting services. It is done because it is by its very nature far more participatory than when the altar is removed from the people, tucked away in the apse. He answered a few more questions and then we took our leave. I hope to go back at some point, possibly for their Good Friday service.

We then split into small groups to go have lunch. The married couple here, Penn and Grace (whom we affectionately call “Mom and Dad”), and my friends Allyson and Jenn and I headed off to Piazza Navona to sit in a sun-drenched caffe and enjoy a lunch of (for me) tortellini in cream sauce with prosciutto and Pinot Grigio, while serenaded by a street musician. One of the most perfect lunches, only the day after another perfect lunch! It was great being back in Navona again; for some reason, it felt the most at that point like I had truly returned.

At three we gathered back at the Pantheon, from whence we set off to view the Palazzo Farnese (part of which was designed by Michelangelo) and then cross the Tevere (Tiber) into Trastevere. I loved this area, it was a cute, shady place of winding narrow streets and hole in the wall bars and creative graffiti, a bohemian hipster enclave. And smack in the middle of it is the first Sta. Maria church in Rome, which started out as a sort of sanctioned house church in the 200s. It was faced with gorgeous, ancient mosaics outside and inside, and displayed old grave coverings with names and early Christian symbols etched into them. We walked back across the river and to another Jesuit church, which contained both the body of St. Ignatius of Loyola and the hand of St. Francis Xavier. We were all pretty bushed at that point, so a group returned to Termini by bus; the rest of us, however, decided to quickly hoof it back, and so were rewarded with a quick detour to the Trevi fountain. From there it was a quick view from the Palazzo Quirinale of the sun setting behind St. Peter’s Basilica, and on to the train home.

That evening I had a really great, open, soul-baring conversation with some friends, discussing what about our faith is truly important, how we are tried, how are faith changes and we grow…I went to bed last night having absorbed so much, and having drained myself of so much. There is a peace here that is captured when that happens.

Happy birthday, Dan. I miss you, buddy.

Quick Update

Not a whole lot of time today to tell you things, but I do just want to briefly mention that on Wednesday our group went to the Duomo and was given a tour of the Madonna di San Brizio chapel by John Skillen, which was stunning; floor to ceiling and back down to the floor on the other side intricate frescoes, begun by Fra Angelico and finished by Luca Signorelli. The coherency in the face of massively complex action and symbolism was astounding. Later that night a small group of us went to the sung Vespers service which is led by the cloistered nuns of the Buon Gesu, which was also quite lovely - very meditative.

The rain, which had been carrying on all week, has finally stopped, and today was beautiful as windows were thrown open and we once more issued out into the sunny streets. We just celebrated the birthday of Silas Doll, Matt's eldest boy...it was a jungle themed party, and great fun. Tomorrow a bunch of us are taking independent trips to Arezzo, about an hour away, and Sunday we look forward to another full day in Roma!

Oh, and thanks Facebook for being stupid.

Trevi Fountain Works!

Yesterday’s trip to Roma was amazing…I’m not even going to try to describe it all. We in no way tried to see everything in the city in one go, since we’ll be back multiple times throughout our stay here. It was great though, I saw a good deal that I’d missed the last time I was in Roma.

We had to get up really early, which was a pain because we had gone to a party that some of the local bars put on jointly every now and then…but it was definitely worth going, because we made some Italian friends! There’s a British woman here who’s about the same age as us (she’s teaching English as part of her study abroad time at university), and she’s friends with a fair amount of the locals. Her name is Hilary, and apparently last semester she got to know Matt and our RA Laura Menichetti, so she found us pretty early on. Anyway, she introduced us to a lovely couple, and we got invited to come have apperitivi with them when we got back from Roma.

When we did all drag ourselves out of bed yesterday morning and headed down to the train station at 6.30 to catch the train into Roma, we had no idea still what we were going to be doing. While on the train, Matt revealed that our itinerary was a stop at the Palazzo Massimo of the Museo Nazionale, a bus trip to the Pantheon, and then walks through the Forum, Colosseum, and ending at the church of Santa Maria Maggiore. The latter I was really excited about seeing, because it’s been in every art history anthology I’ve laid hands on, and it contained a mosaic of Abraham meeting Melchizedek about which I wrote a paper last semester.

I was unprepared for the Palazzo Massimo museum, though. We entered and Matt gave a long preamble about how we were about to see his favorite artwork in the entire city, and then we walked into…the Underground Garden Room from the Villa of Livia a Prima Porta, which is also in a bunch of my textbooks. The room is amazing, realistic frescoes that open the space into a garden filled with fruit trees and birds. I sat and stared around me while Matt talked about it and its roots in Greek painting, and the sophistication it contains…it fades into blurred background, so that you can almost feel and hear the buzzing humidity of the verdant forest all around. But words fall short of describing it.

I was also unprepared for what was downstairs: the famous bronze statue of the Roman Boxer, and even more unbelievable – the Via Labicana Augustus! I love seeing these things in person, and knowing as I stare up at them that there is no way I can comprehend the gravity of the situation.

From the museum, we saw the Pantheon, had lunch and gelato (at an incredible, old-fashioned style bar), walked around the Forum (sadly, you have to pay to go in now...I'm glad I saw it two years ago), relaxed next to the Colosseum, walked by St. Peter in Chains, and ended up at Santa Maria Maggiore. It was awe-inspiring, gold and mosaics and paintings and marble everywhere in a blend of styles spanning thousands of years. Throughout the trip, Matt was careful to not inundate us with information, he gave us just the right amount for optimum absorption, which I really appreciated.

When we got back Hilary texted me to invite us to apperitivi after dinner, so after we ate a small group of us went back to Caffe Cavour to hang out with Hilary and her friends. Not long after we walked back to our rooms to watch half of Roman Holiday, and then hit the sack.

This morning was our second mass at La Chiesa di San Giovanale, the church on the other end of town that's over a thousand years old...up until this point I thought that St. Peter's Basilica in Rome was the most impressive church I'd seen, but the humility of the tufa walls mixed with the broken frescoes has inspired me more than any other place of worship. I love worshipping there.

Ciao for now!