Saturday 26 April: Street fight and pedal cars

Today was Beth’s last full day in Rome, and there were many more things she wanted to see. We started in Trastevere with the church right down the street from me, the Basilica of Santa Maria in Trastevere. Re-used ancient Roman columns, early Christian icons, incredible medieval mosaics, a renaissance ceiling, and baroque and side chapels make this church an interesting and beautiful stop. Besides, it’s right in the middle of the party district of Trastevere, and the piazza with its central fountain is a 24/7 hangout for locals.

Strolling down to Viale de Trastevere, the main street through the region, we came to the stop where we could catch the #8, one of the few trolley/cable cars still operating in Rome (the local name for them is “trams”). While waiting at the stop, which is in the middle of the road with traffic whizzing by on each side, EA and I had the opportunity to watch a developing street fight between a man on a bicycle and the proprietor of a flower stand. Each man had a few buddies who alternating between breaking them up and egging them on. The two combatants would get in the other’s face, literally nose to nose, screaming Italian obscenities (I have a book of these, so I was delighted to hear several in use). They would then temporarily reconcile, falling into the other’s arms and kissing both cheeks. Then one would make a comment that would send the other into another rage. These two guys were both purple-faced, with veins popping out on their foreheads. If we didn’t see a full-blown brawl, Beth and I were certain we would at least witness a coronary. However, the men’s friends finally separated them before actual fisticuffs began, bicycle man rode off sobbing, and the other guy returned to his flower stall. We were fortunate that the #8 was slow that day, or we would have missed how it ended.

The tram came and EA and I rode to Largo Argentina, land of Republican temples and cats, which I have described before (historical note: When I say “Republican” in this blog, I am not referring to the GOP, but to the Roman Republic. This began on 1 January 509 BC with the expulsion of the last king and the election of Marcus Junius Brutus and Lucius Tarquinius Collatinus as first consuls, or chief magistrates, of the new Republic; and which ended on 16 January 27 BC, when the Senate proclaimed Octavian, great nephew and adopted son of Julius Caesar, as the first Roman Emperor with the title of Augustus (which means “consecrated,” “venerable,” “majestic,” “worthy of worship”).

Elizabeth and I headed north for a long (very long) walk through the Centro Storico. We passed the Pantheon and wound our way through the streets and alleys, stopping at a few of the thousands of specialty shops that fill this area: boutiques for clothes and jewelry; stores with handcrafted ceramic and metalwork; wonderful stationary stores with handmade papers, pens, and wax seals; and above all, the alimentari, little specialty groceries with handmade pastas, dried porcini mushrooms, 40-year-old balsamic vinegars, wines, cheeses, and other goodies from all over Italy, but focusing on Lazio, the area around Rome between Tuscany to the north and Campania to the south. This is where I bought my fateful box of Pocket Coffee, which I will discuss later.

Traveling ever north, more or less, Beth and I passed the Ara Pacis and the poor, neglected Mausoleum of Augustus. Since I had last been there a week earlier, the tomb had been surrounded by a fence, and work appears to be underway. I hope that they are finally going to spiff up the last resting place of the man who was not only Rome’s greatest and most influential ruler, but probably the single greatest statesman of all time. To the north we could finally see the obelisk that marks the center of Piazza del Popolo, our short-term goal. We finally made it to the piazza, and stopped for a rest in the shadow of one of the two churches at the near end. While we were resting, a man speaking Caribbean-accented English and a woman who sounded like she was Dutch or German approached us, and then asked if the man could pose with us for a picture. EA’s theory was that he wanted a pic with the most disheveled and foreign-looking people there.

Above Piazza del Popolo we could see our destination: Villa Borghese, a beautiful park, Rome’s version of Central Park. It was created by a cardinal of the Borghese family, a house of princes from which several popes came. The cardinal created a vast park with gardens and lakes and pleasure palaces in the north of the city. It is now a public park, and to get there, we had to walk up flight after flight of seemingly endless marble steps. Since Beth and I were already tired from our long walk, we took a break near the top and sat in the shade of a palazzo. Suddenly, flying down the steep and winding street leading from the park at the top of the hill to the piazza far below, came flying two pedal cars. You can rent these in the Villa Borghese (where they are supposed to stay), just as you can at many boardwalks at American beaches. You might have seen them: they seat four people, two in front and two in back, and have a little canopy for a cover. They’re really just glorified bicycles. Anyway, as we sat there and rested and ate Pocket Coffee, a pedal car with five young Roman men of about college age came careening around the hairpin bend at breakneck speed. They took the sharp turn on two wheels, and we were certain that they’d go over, but they didn’t. In hot pursuit was another pedal car driven by two more ragazzi romani. The guys in both cars were laughing like maniacs and clearly having the time of their lives. Mind you, all of this was on a busy street with cars, mopeds, and pedestrians in both directions. EA and I were in immediate agreement that if we were 25 years younger we would be doing the same thing.

Finally reaching the Villa Borghese, Beth and I wandered through the beautiful park, stopping at an overlook for great vistas of Rome (pics in Flickr). We stopped several times just to sit and people watch, constantly amazed at the Italian sense of style. Even out for a stroll and an ice cream cone, most Romans are well-dressed and look sharp. This is in direct contrast to how I dress; if you guessed that I was in shorts and an old polo, you’re right. Anyway, we made our way to the small ornamental lake with a Greek temple on a little island. The lake had about a half dozen rowboats on it, far too many for its size. The entire park was filled with families and groups of friends picnicking, strolling, or just hanging out, and everyone appeared to be happy and relaxed. It was a great afternoon.

Exhausted from walking all over Rome, climbing the hill, and wandering the Villa Borghese, we caught a cab back to Trastevere. A cab ride through downtown Rome during rush hour, even on a Saturday, is an exciting affair, and this one did not disappoint. In the US, I would be terrified, but I am used to Roman traffic, so driving four blocks down the trolley track didn’t bother me, even when I realized that an upcoming tram was headed towards us. The driver just darted aside, narrowly missing several scooters. Beth swore that he buzzed a pedestrian’s butt. Nearly perpendicular lane changes across four lanes, jaunts over pedestrian areas, and a frenzied flight slaloming between traffic in both directions finally let us off near home. For Beth’s last dinner in Rome, we went back to my favorite steak joint around the corner, home of the 1-kilo t-bone (that’s 2.2 pounds, if you don’t do metric). We had magnificent appetizers of the marinated seafood salad I have pictured before (extra tentacles!) as well as a traditional Italian antipasto misto, with grilled peppers, eggplant, mushrooms, and zucchini; warm buffalo mozzarella; salami and prosciutto; beans; and a small but delicious cake sort of like an egg quiche with green onions and corn. Then came the steaks. I had ordered, and EA knew she was getting steak, but not how much. The look on her face when the over-two-pound chunk of bloody-rare cow was set in front of her was priceless! Beth eats very little meat, and I’m sure this was more beef than she had eaten in the past decade. She took some home; of course, I devoured mine on the spot. Frascati and dessert of panna cotta completed the meal. We organized some pictures and then got what little sleep we could on a Saturday night in Trastevere.

Friday 25 April: Pompeii; or, Beth and Dan and the volcano

EA and I had planned a day trip to Pompeii to see the incredibly preserved ruins there. I worked there years ago in grad school but had not been back since. We rose at about 5:30, had a quick breakfast, and caught a cab to the meeting point for our shuttle bus near Termini, the main bus and train station on the east side of Rome. We were supposed to meet at 7:15 am for a 7:30 departure. About two dozen other folks were waiting as well. When nobody came by 7:35, I called the “emergency number” provided by the tour company. The woman answering the phone asked what was wrong, and I said that we were waiting for our bus to Pompeii. She told me we must have missed it. I replied that we had been there since 7 with a bunch of other people. She said that was impossible, the bus had left with two dozen people on it. I told her there were another two dozen people who were waiting, and asked what she was going to do about it. This made me a hero with the crowd standing there. A couple minutes later, a young guy came running up, apologizing that he was late because it was a national holiday (Liberation Day) and the buses were running late.

We finally boarded the bus for a beautiful three-hour drive through Lazio and Campania, with the mountains getting ever closer to our side. We made one stop at the Italian equivalent of Howard Johnson’s, which was an absolute circus. The place was packed, and the line for the women’s room was about 200 people long. Still, we got back onto the bus within our half hour break, and finished our trip to Pompeii.

Beth and I had a quick pizza for lunch, and then spent several hours roaming the streets of the city. Pompeii was a small town near the much larger city of Neapolis, modern Naples, and was destroyed in the eruption of Mt. Vesuvius on 24 August 79. Luckily (for us, not for the poor Pompeians) the city was not buried by lava, but by volcanic ash. This preserved the city in midpoint of daily life for nearly 1700 years, until excavations began in the 1700s. Still only a quarter of the city is excavated. Many of the most valuable finds have been moved to the National Museum of Naples, but some remain, and you can walk through street after street of insulae (apartment complexes), mansions of the wealthy, shops, taverns, and temples. We entered near the theater, still in remarkable preservation, and headed toward the Forum. Like all Roman colonies, the Forum had a Capitol: a Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus just like the one on the Capitoline Hill in Rome (only not as immense or richly decorated). Beth and I explored the temple, the basilica or law court, and the shrine of the Divine Augustus (more stuff for my research!) at the Forum, as well as the Forum Baths, one of several bathing establishments discovered at Pompeii. We also visited the Temple of Apollo, and the Temple of Isis, which I had surveyed in graduate school.

We stopped at the bookstore/caffè for a drink (Coke for Beth, wine for me, and water for both) and to buy books (a guidebook of the city for Beth and a book of erotic art from Pompeii for me). The clerk at the bookstore was coughing from the dust, and EA gave him a piece of gum, which he enjoyed so much that he asked to examine the packaging so he could look for the brand. He refused her offer of a tissue, however.

We only had a couple of hours left, so Beth and I began our body hunt. You may have heard about the bodies at Pompeii. The volcano caught everyone in mid-day, and thousands of people were suffocated by the fumes and buried under volcanic ash. With time, their bodies decomposed (or were burnt up by the hot cinders), leaving a hollow in the shape of the corpse. Men, women, children, even dogs and other pets were buried. During excavations, many of these hollows were filled with plaster, and the resulting casts are disturbingly realistic. Sometimes you can read the facial expressions (agony and fear, usually). Some of these bodies were on display in a large room you can look into, where pottery, sculpture, and other artifacts are being cataloged by excavators. Since EA and I share a certain ghoulishly morbid streak, we wanted to see more of these. Near the edge of town is a promisingly-named “Garden of the Refugees” with fifteen of these bodies. The site is poorly marked, and we roamed a while looking for it, even after asking directions from a guard. We finally found it, and it really is planted as a garden. In a glassed-off corner are the fifteen bodies, mostly women and children, who died trying to escape the wrath of Vesuvius.

It was getting close to time to catch our bus back to Rome, and of course the exit we chose was temporarily closed. We headed out through the Necropolis, the street of tombs outside the city limits (like all Roman towns, Pompeii did not permit burial within the city walls). EA had time to purchase some excellent ceramic souvenirs at one of the vendor stalls outside the gates, and we caught the bus just in time. Back in Rome we were exhausted, but not too tired to eat a nice dinner. Beth took me out to a great place about two blocks from my apartment, where she had spaghetti with clams, I had the house rigatoni (mushroom and sausage in a cream sauce), and panna cotta for dessert. I was so beat, even the din of Trastevere couldn’t keep me awake long that night.

There are some pics of Pompeii on Flickr. If you ever get a chance to go there, do it! It’s an amazing and rare chance to see daily life almost two millennia ago. Histories, official records, and artwork record the lives of the rich and powerful, but the daily activities of the common people of the past are much harder to document. Pompeii is a powerful and moving record of everyday life in the Roman Empire.

And above the town, Vesuvius still sleeps, but restlessly; in 1944, an eruption destroyed several villages and suburbs of Naples. When I was there in grad school, I was eating in a caffè and suddenly the ground shook so hard that my wine glass nearly bounced off the table. A waiter rescued it, shrugging as he said “Vesuvio.” Over three million people live in the greater Naples metropolitan area. The Italian government has extensive evacuation plans and closely monitors the volcano’s activity.

Thursday 24 April: A huge Roman bathhouse and a huge Roman church

Morning coffee at Good (I love this place!) and a quick check of email, and then Beth and I headed for the Baths of Caracalla south of the Circus Maximus. The baths were a Roman institution, and most cities and towns of any size at all throughout the Empire had several. In Rome, there were lots of bathhouses, including several immense ones built by the emperors. Caracalla’s Baths are among the most impressive. The immense complex covers dozens of acres, and included open park areas, theaters for music and public readings, two libraries (one Latin, one Greek), gymnasia, and of course the baths themselves. These were huge, vaulted chambers with hot, warm, and cold water, and a gargantuan indoor swimming pool. You could buy a meal (or a prostitute) at the baths, and many people conducted their business there. Of course, all of this was lavishly decorated with mosaics, imported marble, statuary, and works of art; sort of like turning St. Peter’s Basilica into a sauna. In fact, Bramante and the other architects of St. Peter’s got the idea for its vaulting from the baths. EA and I spent a long time strolling through the grand ruins, still decorated in places with traces of mosaic and marble architectural features (pics on Flickr). Beth had made us a lunch of panini, and bought grapes along the way, so we had a nice picnic there.

Leaving the baths in the early afternoon, we then caught a bus to the Vatican to see the basilica. As always, St. Peter’s amazes you by both its size and its lavish decoration of priceless art. Mass was being celebrated in the main apse at the altar beneath Bernini’s “Triumph of the Throne of Peter,” a huge fantasy of gilt bronze and golden stained glass, culminating with the Holy Dove in a sunburst amidst flights of angels. Beth and I strolled through the basilica, admiring the many famous works of art here, including Michelangelo’s Pieta and Bernini’s baldacchino over the high altar. The tombs of popes, saints, and other dignitaries reminded us that the church is foremost a funerary hall, with the high altar built over what Catholics venerate as the tomb of the Apostle Peter, first bishop of Rome and founder of the papacy.

Finally leaving the basilica, we found that the good weather we had enjoyed at the Baths had turned. The sky was a lowering, steel grey, and no sooner did we leave the church than the rain started. We stopped at a couple of souvenir stands on our way to the bus stop, and then finally caught one, jam packed with soaking Romans and tourists. It finally dropped us off near Ponte Sisto, but not until after we spent an agonizingly long time turning through the suburbs of northern Rome. Tired and wet, we had an early dinner and tried to get some sleep before the next day’s adventure: an excursion to Pompeii.

Wednesday 23 April: Baroque good; contemporary, not so much

Wanting to continue to explore the art in Rome, but looking for something a little different, EA and I decided that today we would visit MACRO, the new museum of contemporary art in Rome. Now, the city has had a large museum of modern art, with master works from the late 19^th and the 20^th centuries, for a long time. MACRO is a new museum devoted to very recent art. We took a convoluted series of transportation (bus, metro, bus) to the museum, only to discover that it is still under construction, although open with a couple of exhibits. Since the admission was one euro, we went in. The two installations we saw were large wood and metal things that looked like partially assembled furniture. Beth described it as the discount section at Ikea. I am actually a fan of contemporary art and design, but I was not impressed, nor was EA. To give them credit, the place is still under construction, and the idea of a contemporary art museum in a place filled with antiquities is a great idea, so I’ll check it out again in a couple of years.

The weather being fine, we headed for some of the outdoor Baroque sites of the city, eventually making our way to the Spanish Steps. Pics at www.flickr.com/danielcmack show the azaleas out in full bloom! After checking out a nice kitchen store, Beth and I decided, on a lark, to stop at the Spanish Steps McDonald’s. I have used Mickey D’s in Rome for bathrooms before, but we decided to get fries and a Coke too, just to say that we did. I somehow ended up with a cheeseburger that I didn’t pay for. It really is a crime to eat there when there is so much good food around, but it was fun. The place was filled with Italian teenagers in full goth and punk drag. I especially enjoyed seeing fifteen year old boys with rings of black eyeliner and funky haircuts. I can’t talk, considering the way I wore my hair twenty-five years ago, but there is a new fashion here for teenage boys, a Mohawk combined with a mullet, and it looks really bad. The girls were mostly in black, with mini skirts over tights, and black nails. Fun!

The high point of the day came when we got to the Trevi Fountain in late afternoon. I have described the mayhem that is Trevi before, and we were not disappointed. Tourists, Romans hanging out, and the unavoidable hawkers of stupid rubber toys filled the tiny piazza, dwarfed by the magnificent fountain. Beth and I each threw in our coins (over the right shoulder, back to the fountain, without looking) and made it in, thus ensuring our return to the Eternal City. It’s worked every time for me so far! Check out the pics on Flickr. We then spent a long time just hanging out and people watching. The crowd was a lot of fun, everyone having a good time, laughing and taking each others’ pics tossing in their coins. Every now and then someone would reach into the fountain to splash water on a friend or to cool their feet. This would draw the immediate attention of the police, who would then blow their whistle and yell not to go into the fountain (I guess Fellini had special permission). It reminded me of the lifeguard at the public pool when I was a kid and we’d act like idiots in the water.

EA and I eventually headed home by way of the church of Santa Maria in Cosmedin, but the gates were locked and we missed the Mouth of Truth. Dinner at home that night: salad and carry-out pizza. The day had been an enormous amount of walking, so early to bed amid the din of Trastevere.

Tuesday 22 April: The Capitoline Museums

After the good weather of the past few days, Rome awoke to a day of rain. Beth and I continued our exploration of ancient Rome by walking across the river at Tiber Island, where one of the foot bridges dates to the middle Republic, about 200 BCE. We viewed the Augustan-era monuments at the foot of the Capitoline Hill, including the Portico of Octavia, the Theater of Marcellus, and the Temple of Apollo. The overcast sky actually allowed me to get some good photos for my research. From there, we continued up to the Capitoline Hill and ascended the ramp past two enormous statues of Castor and Pollux, and reached the top of the hill.

Here in antiquity stood the great Temple of Iuppiter Optimus Maximus (Jupiter Best and Greatest), the king of gods and humanity and patron of the Roman state. Almost completely destroyed when the Empire fell, the area was neglected until the Renaissance, when the city government commissioned Michelangelo to design a new piazza and facades for palaces facing it. The Piazza del Campodoglio is beautiful, and two of the magnificent palaces now house the Musei Capitolini, the Capitoline Museums. The third is the seat of the municipal government of Rome. I love the Capitoline Museums. They tie with the Vatican Museums as the world’s best collection of Roman sculpture, and also have collections of art from the medieval, renaissance, and baroque periods. Plus, they are a much more manageable size than the Vatican.

Beth helped me single out Augustan-era works for my research, including the giant statue of Mars Ultor, the avenging Mars that Augustus credited with helping him punish the assassins of his adopted father Julius Caesar. Suffering from museum foot, we lunched at the rooftop caffè, with spectacular views of the city, even in the drizzle.

After the museums, we continued to explore the Centro Storico, the main section of downtown Rome. That evening we dined at a really good (and cheap) place where we had eaten previously, this time getting stuffed pasta, rigatoni with sausage and mushrooms, and yet more pizza capricciosa, with the egg fried and slightly runny so you could smear warm yolk all over (if you like your eggs loose you will appreciate this). Home, writing, picture organizing, and bed.

Monday 21 April: We spend the Parilia in the heart of ancient Rome

Today was the Parilia, the birthday of Rome! Founded on 21 April 753 BC by Romulus and Remus, twin sons of the god Mars and nursed by a she-wolf, the city is now 2,761 years old. Actually, there are traces of even earlier settlements as well. Where better to spend the city’s birthday than in the most famous monuments of its ancient glory? Beth and I headed to the Colosseum and spent a long time inside. Since it was early we beat the crowds. I’ve described the Colosseum before, including the various gladiators, centurions, emperors, and other people in costume with whom you can pose for photographs (for a price). What I haven’t described is how funny it is to see Caesar on break, pulling a pack of Marlboros out of a fold of his purple and gold toga, and lighting up.

After the Colosseum, EA and I hit the Forum Romanum, the civic and political center of the Roman world. It is amazing to see the ruins, some renovated like the Curia, or Senate House, and others leaving only traces of their former glory. We were particularly charmed by the wild poppies, acanthus, and other flowers growing among the tumbled marble of antiquity. In the Forum is the Aedes Divi Julii, the temple and altar of the Divine Julius. When Julius Caesar was assassinated, Mark Antony gave his famous “Friends, Romans, Countrymen” eulogy in the Forum. Roman law permitted funerals in the Forum, but cremation and burial had to take place outside the city walls for religious reasons. Well, after Antony’s speech, the common people, who were huge fans of Julius Caesar, went berserk. They tore apart wooden shop stalls and anything else that would burn, and spontaneously cremated Caesar’s corpse right there. A column was raised to mark the spot, and then an altar and temple were put there after the Senate declared Caesar a god (this also allowed Caesar’s great nephew and adopted son Octavian, the future first emperor Augustus, to adopt the title Divi Filius, Son of God). I have been in the Forum several times, and each time, there are still fresh floral tributes laid on the altar of Julius Caesar by modern Roman citizens and other visitors.

Past Caesar’s temple is the Temple of Vesta and House of the Vestal Virgins. The house is a big mansion, and the Vestals and their servants were the only people who actually lived in the Forum. The six priestesses were chosen as young girls from the best senatorial families in Rome, and served for thirty years as virgin attendants of Vesta, the goddess of the state hearth. Their main duty was to tend the sacred flame in the temple. Chastity was expected, and breaking the vow was punished by being walled up alive, but the Vestals were not cloistered. In fact, they had the best seats at the Colosseum and Circus Maximus after the emperor. After their thirty years of service, they could marry, and were given huge dowries by the state. Beth and I loved the courtyard of their house, now overgrown with wild roses.

From there, we climbed the Palatine Hill. During the Roman Republic, the Palatine was prime real estate, and the richest senators had their homes here. Augustus and later emperors bought everyone out and turned the entire hill into the huge Imperial Palace, an immense warren of mansions, temples, courtyards, and halls that occupied the entire Palatine Hill. This is the origin of the word “palace.” The ruins are still astounding, but only a pale reflection of the immense splendor that was home to the emperor, the imperial family, and the imperial court. Rivaling even the richest and most opulent temples and forums, the imperial palace was a glory of imported polychrome marble, gold, bronze, fountains, and mosaics of semiprecious stones. Not much is left here, but many of the most famous medieval, renaissance, and baroque churches and palaces of the city are built with materials looted from the palace after the fall of the Empire. Beth and I spent a long time among the magnificent ruins, shaded by beautiful groves of umbrella pines, cypresses, and sycamores.

Heading back to Trastevere in the late afternoon, we stopped to eat in one caffè, but left after the waiter tried to cheat us by selective mistranslation of our Italian and his English. We ended up at a nice place with great food, and had pizza with anchovies and a baked potato stuffed with mozzarella and ham. More notes in the evening, and bed.

Sunday 20 April: The flea market and the imperial forums

For years, maybe centuries, Trastevere has hosted a famous flea market on Sunday mornings. Beth and I decided to check it outs, so we headed toward the southern part of the area. The Porta Portese flea market is truly a sight. We found block after block of booths selling everything: antique furniture and beautiful handcrafted tiles and textiles, silk and linen scarves and bags, jewelry, imported luxury goods, new and second-hand clothes, kitchen wares, toys, and junk. The inevitable forgeries of Fendi, Versace, Prada, D&G, and other Italian designers also made their appearance. Plus, the flea market is a fantastic place for people-watching (and pickpockets). We browsed for a long time, and then caught the bus across the river for some ancient Rome. I highly recommend a visit to the Porta Portese market if you’re in Rome on a Sunday and decided to skip Mass (since there are a thousand churches in Rome, you could probably squeeze Mass in too).

In the center of the city, Beth and I walked along Via dei Fori Imperiali and viewed the great monuments at the heart of the Empire, from the Colosseum and the Imperial Forums to the Forum Romanum itself, as well as the Markets of Trajan. The street was closed off for some sort of festival, which actually made our progress slower than usual because of the crowds. Particularly interesting was a decidedly non-Roman spectacle, a South American street band with drums and pan flutes. Stalls were selling preserves, cheeses, and other food products from various regions of Italy.

Heading into the Centro Storico, we passed an ancient Egyptian obelisk (Augustus brought back several after he defeated Cleopatra, made himself Pharaoh, and declared Egypt a personal estate of the Emperor). This one is on an elephant-shaped base, designed by Bernini in the 17^th century (and you know how I feel about Bernini!). We visited the Pantheon had a nice late lunch or early dinner of bucatini all’Amatriciana and pasta with ham and cream sauce. We finally headed back to Trastevere where we each made notes for our own research and blogs.

A note to readers

Ciao a Roma! If you're reading this, you may wonder where I've been the past several days. I have not had much Internet access, and my email has been screwed up. I have been saving drafts off-line, and will post as able. I hope to be caught up and in real time soon.

Grazie e salve!

Dan (the folks around here call me Rossone, "Big Red"

Saturday 19 April: Beth meets i gatti romani

I got up early, walked down to Viale di Trastevere, and caught the tram to Stazione Trastevere. From here I caught the train to the Fiumicino airport, a ride of about twenty minutes. I was on my way to meet Beth’s flight. I’ve known Beth (aka E.A., Elizabeth, Elizabeast, Elizardbreath, etc.) for nearly thirty years, and she is also a librarian and a historian. Beth is visiting Rome for a week, and I told her I’d meet her at the airport. Not surprisingly, the train to the airport was about 90 degrees, and all of the Italians were wearing winter coats. Luckily, Fiumicino is set up to make it easy to meet arrivals. Incoming passengers go through passport control and customs, and get sent to a gate marked “Arrivals,” where I stood and waved my arms like a fool until Beth came out. We caught the train back into town. Beth unpacked her stuff and cleaned up and, despite having just traveled twenty-four hours with almost no sleep, decided she wanted to see some of Rome. After wandering through a bit of Trastevere, we headed across the river to the Area Sacra di Largo Argentina. The Area Sacra is an interesting place. Decades ago, in an attempt to construct a metro station, excavators uncovered four temples from the Republican period, from the third to the first centuries BC (BCE). There’s a big excavated square, and you look down about thirty or more feet to the site. Right across the street a theater and a number of shops cover the remains of the theater and portico of Pompey, where Julius Caesar was assassinated.

The other thing you immediately notice among these ruins are cats: you first notice a cat on a step or fallen column, then you see three or four more, and then you notice that the excavations are filled with felines. Rome has literally hundreds of thousands of stray cats, and the lucky ones live in the cat sanctuary at the Area Sacra. You can go down right next to the ruins, and there is a sanctuary for cats, with a hospice sick, elderly, or disabled cats. The sanctuary runs entirely on donations and sales from their gift shop, and receives no government funds. We spent some time talking with the volunteers and playing with the friendly cats of Rome. Beth volunteers at a cat shelter in Ohio, and she and the woman in charge of the place talked shop for a while.

After saying ciao to the cats, Beth and I walked on up to the Pantheon. I’ve written before about the Pantheon and its amazing engineering. We entered the packed structure and admired the incredible dome, which was made in a single casting of concrete. Deciding it was time to have a bite, we stopped at a nearby pizzeria for a dinner of pizza capricciosa (olives, artichoke, ham, and egg) and pizza with sausage and mushrooms. Pics of both in Flickr, of course.

After dinner Beth and I made our way back to Trastevere, stopping in the piazza for gelato on the fountain. I did a little writing and then went to bed.

Friday 18 April: Twister on a bus

I got up early and did laundry; it wasn’t nearly the adventure that it was the first time, and took only an hour. After putting my laundry away by the expedient method of leaving it in my suitcase, I caught the 115 and headed up to the AAR to do some research. The 115 was packed worse than I had ever seen it. Not only was there standing room only, but everyone was playing bus Twister was they reached over, through, and around each other, trying to hold onto a rail or grip to keep standing as the bus climbed the steep and winding road up the Gianicolo. By now it was about F 75 ° outside, meaning that the bus was about 90. Sweltering in my shorts and tee shirt, as I looked around, I noticed not only that nearly all the other passengers had on heavy coats over sweaters with scarves, but also that three of them actually had the hoods of their parkas pulled over their heads and zipped under their chins. I got off as soon as I could so I wouldn’t melt.

After several hours’ steady work on the topography of the Augustan city, I caught the bus home and gave Gary a call. Our friend Beth was arriving in Rome the next day for a week, and Gary wanted to know if I had cleaned for her visit. Sitting at the table I looked down and saw the floor littered with granola and toe nail clippings, so I decided that maybe Gary had a point. Not only did I get out the broom and sweep the entire place, including under the bed, but I actually cleaned the bathroom. The apartment didn’t sparkle, but it didn’t stink, either. I took out the garbage again, too.

For the evening, I walked along the Tiber on the east bank, the “other” side of the river. The sycamores, which were little more than buds starting to turn to leaf when I first arrived in Rome, are now large and deep green. I realized that I’ve been in Rome for over two weeks, and the brief spring is starting to turn into early summer. I went home and set the alarm for 5 am. The next morning I was going to the airport to meet my friend Beth.

Thursday 17 April: Grill, rain, and Trevi with Mom and Dad

This was Mom and Dad’s last day in Rome, and they had some errands to do in the morning (like get tickets to Florence, their next stop, and do laundry). I spent the morning researching at AAR, working on the prosopography of some of the priestly colleges under the Julio-Claudian dynasty, in the vein of Sir Ronald Syme in Some arval brethren (if you are interested in the early Roman Empire, you should read everything by Syme, starting with The Roman revolution). I then headed for the Borgo to hook up with my parents.

We decided to have a big Roman lunch for their last full day in the city. David, the proprietor of their b&b, had recommended a place nearby, famous for their grilled meats. By the time we left for the restaurant it had started drizzling outside. We made our way through the damp to the restaurant, where Dad and I ordered grilled skewers of mixed meats and Mom had pasta tubes baked with a cream and meat sauce. We also ordered grilled vegetables, salad, and carciofi alla giudea, Jewish-style artichokes, a Roman-Jewish classic, and one of my favorites. While we were waiting for our food, the owner brought out an enormous covered platter to show us. I was afraid that when he removed the cloth covering there would be a whole pig’s head or something else the folks might not find appealing, but I was wrong. Instead, it was a monstrous whole ham, an entire pig haunch on the bone, with the skin and fat sizzling and crackling. I wanted to pick it up right there and eat like Fred Flintstone, right off the bone (I have an affinity for pork products). The owner told us that the ham had just come out of the oven after fourteen hours of slow roasting. When our food came, it was amazing. Our meat sampler had pieces of lamb, veal, pork, ham, and some of the best sausage I have ever had. Sides of cold steamed spinach with lemon came along with the meat, and of course the Jewish artichoke, an entire blossom deep-fried in olive oil. All in all, it was entirely too much food, which is not to say that it didn’t all get eaten. Check my Flickr for food pics.

By the time we were done with lunch it was mid-afternoon, and had started raining again. Mom and Dad wanted to see one more famous Roman site, so we caught a cab, meaning we roamed around until we found a taxi stand at Piazza del Risorgimento, and headed for the Trevi Fountain. Less than three hundred years old, the Trevi is new by Roman standards, and it’s a great piece of late Baroque sculpture, with Neptune and tritons (more mer-dudes) and cascading water. If you throw in a coin over your right shoulder with your back to the fountain, it’s supposed to guarantee that you will return to Rome. It’s worked every time for me so far. You can’t really swim in it like Anita Ekberg did in Fellini’s La dolce vita; that will get you arrested these days. I’ve said before how the Trevi Fountain takes up most of a tiny piazza that is always mobbed with tourists, traffic, and street vendors. The rain didn’t keep any of them away, although a number of tourists seemed to appreciate being able to buy an umbrella on the spot. Despite the weather Mom and Dad got in a couple of good photo-ops here.

Being downtown, we had to go looking for a taxi stand, and the nearest one with cabs in service was all the way back at the Piazza Venezia, at the foot of the Vittoriana. I told Mom and Dad goodbye there. They are leaving early Friday morning for Florence and points north. It was great seeing them, and lots of fun being able to show them some of my favorite places in my favorite city. They’ve still got a couple of weeks of adventuring through Italy and Germany ahead of them. I hope they stay out of trouble! At least the traffic will improve as they head north. I headed home for an evening of writing and editing.

Wednesday 16 April: Mom and Dad go to the Colosseum

I got up early, did some writing, and then caught the 23 bus to Piazza di Risorgimento, only two blocks from my parents’ b&b. We decided that today should be gladiator day, so we caught a cab to the Colosseum. My parents loved it! The Colosseum (or Amphitheatrum Flavium, to give its official name) is always magnificently impressive. We were early enough that the crowds weren’t terrible, except for the ever-present vendors of tacky souvenirs, sunglasses, and rubber toys (yes, I came to Europe to buy a squeak toy). Dad got in the ticket line, and within a half hour we were inside. It’s amazing to be in this huge stadium, almost two thousand years old, and see the incredible engineering of the Romans. The main structure is solid concrete and travertine. Roman concrete is so strong that it often survives even bombing intact. You can find it from northern England to the coast of Africa, and from Europe to the Middle East. I don’t think any single surviving structure from Rome is as big as the Colosseum, though. And of course none of the brick-faced concrete was exposed originally; it was all covered with marble and travertine, much of which was looted in later ages. It must have been an amazing spectacle in ancient times; it is still incredibly imposing. In the past few years they’ve installed an elevator, which permits you to look down into the stadium from where the audience would have been seated. It is quite a sight! And through it all, you have to remember what went on here: the munera, or gladiatorial combats, which began as single pairs of men fighting as part of the funeral rituals of the upper classes. By the time of the Empire, these had evolved into mass entertainment for the populace, and featured wholesale slaughter of men, and sometimes women, along with enormous numbers of wild beasts. Gladiators were usually but not always slaves and victors became great celebrities and could eventually earn their freedom (if they weren’t killed).

We finally left the Colosseum, and went in search of a photo-op. My buddies were still there: the same gladiators I have posed with over the past few years. They had a couple of extras with them today. Mom and Dad posed for an excellent set of pics. Make sure you check them out at www.flickr.com/danielcmack.

We walked up from the Colosseum along the Via dei Fori Imperiali, the parade route that il Duce built over half of the Imperial Forums (besides being a fascist, Mussolini had no sense of archaeology), and had an impromptu picnic of panini sitting on the wall along the road. We then stopped to view the Forum Romanum, Imperial Fora, and Trajan’s Markets. The ruins are magnificent now; you can only imagine the incredible splendor that central Rome must have been under the emperors.

In the mood for some Baroque architecture, we caught a taxi to the Lateran. This church, officially the “Archbasilica and Cathedral of the Most Holy Savior and of Saints John the Baptist and John the Evangelist in the Lateran, Mother and Head of All Churches of the City and of the World,” is the Pope’s seat as the Bishop of Rome, Archbishop of the Roman Province, Patriarch of the West, Supreme Pontiff of the Holy Apostolic Universal Church, Successor of Peter, Prince of the Apostles, Vicar of Christ on Earth, Servant of the Servants of God (I’d hate to have to typeset his business cards). It is on the site of the original basilica built by Constantine in the early fourth century, and retains much of the original plan. The ceiling is a red, blue, and gold extravaganza from the sixteenth century, and most of the interior, including the central nave, was redone by Borromini in the mid-seventeenth century, with considerable reuse of ancient Roman polychrome marble. The church also has some excellent medieval mosaics and Cosmati work, especially in the apse by the cathedra, the bishop’s throne. The Lateran has a decent bookstore, vastly superior to the tacky stands outside, and Mom stocked up on souvenirs. We discovered that the nuns running the place were quite happy to take Visa.

It was now late afternoon, so we went to the taxi stand outside the Lateran to catch a ride back to my parents’ b&b. Five cabs were parked there, and the drivers got into an argument over who was first in line. In Rome, taxis are not permitted to cruise around looking for passengers, and you either have to call for one or find a taxi stand. It seemed obvious to us that the one at the front was first in line, but apparently not to the drivers. We had to get out of one car and into another. Finally the drivers settled the affair without resorting to fisticuffs, and we headed back to Piazza di Risorgimento. Mom and Dad went off drop off the souvenirs they had acquired during the day, and I went home to have a salad, give Gary a call, do some writing and editing, and catch whatever sleep Trastevere would permit.

Tuesday 15 April: Mom and Dad in the Eternal City

I got up early, did some writing, had a bunch of coffee, and took off to my folks’ b&b. Since the weather was uncertain, we took the on-and-off tour bus around town. If you’ve never been on one of these, I highly recommend them if you go to a new city. You can find them in most major European cities. The bus goes around to all the key sites (or in Rome’s case, as close as traffic permits you to get), and you can get off at any stop and get back on all day. We rode the circuit all the way around, almost two hours, to give Mom and Dad a good view of Rome. We then got off at Campo de’ Fiori and walked up to Piazza Navona. By now it was pouring rain. Luckily, whenever a single rain drop falls in Rome, thousands of peddlers appear from nowhere selling umbrellas, so I bought one for Mom. I have never seen Piazza Navona so empty! We went to Tucci, my favorite restaurant there, and had a ginormous Roman lunch. Carciofi alla romana, roman-style artichokes sautéed whole with garlic and herbs, served as vegetables along with a mixed salad. Mom had spit-roasted chicken and potatoes, while Dad and I went for seafood: he had salmon and I had swordfish, both with grilled vegetables. I also had spaghetti con vongole. This must be the third time I’ve had it in two weeks.

By the time we were done eating, the sun was out, as were the street musicians, vendors, and thousands of tourists who make Piazza Navona such a central hangout in Rome. From there, we walked to the Pantheon. The folks loved the architecture! While we were inside admiring the immense dome (the largest until the Superdome in the 1960’s, and cast entirely in one casting as a single piece), a woman asked me if I knew where the Pantheon was. I told here she was in it, and she was sort of surprised. She seemed like the type who prefers mall architecture to classical.

After the Pantheon, we hopped back on our bus and rode around to the Museo dell’Ara Pacis. I’ve written about the Ara Pacis before, and you must know by know how I am when I get started about Augustus, so I won’t go into details about it again (I’ll save it for an article I’m working on). Mom and Dad enjoyed the details in the artwork, and agreed with me that the city needs to clean up the Mausoleum of Augustus, which we viewed from outside. The area is filled 1930’s Fascist-era architecture, in the same style as seen in footage of the Nuremburg rally, or on the façade of Central Pattee. Actually, Mussolini-period architecture in Italy is generally so hideous, it makes Pattee look like the Sistine Chapel.

We caught the bus again outside the Mausoleum, and rode the circuit past the Forum Romanum and Imperial Fora, the Colosseum, the Circus Maximus, and other sites, and back to the Vatican, where we had begun. By now it was late afternoon and raining again. We got out of the deluge by stopping for panini and pastries at a caffè. After our snack, I walked Mom and Dad back to their b&b, which is conveniently located only a block or so from Piazza di Risorgimento, where lots of bus lines stop. I told the folks goodnight, caught a bus home, did some more writing, and then sat by my big open window and read Pasolini until after midnight.

Monday 14 April: I take my parents to the Vatican, part 2

The circus that is Trastevere was in a wild mood last night; I slept less than two hours. I got up early and caught a bus at 7am to get to my parents’ b&b by 8; we had timed entrance tickets to the Vatican Museums. I got on the 23 bus, which should have gotten there quickly. The driver had other ideas. He apparently had the wrong number displayed, and was really driving a 271, which went not only in the opposite direction, but stopped for ten minutes at St. Paul’s Outside the Walls. It’s called that because it is literally outside the old city walls; in other words, not near anything. I eventually got to Stazione Ostiense, where I hired a maniacal cab driver with terrible taste in Euro-pop to drive me rapido, rapido, rapido to my folks’ place. I made it by 8:30, and Mom and Dad were ready to go. We got there in plenty of time.

If you ever go to the Vatican Museums, Google for a tour group that can get you timed admission. We just got entrance tickets, not a tour, since we already knew what we wanted to see. The line for the museums is sometimes three or four hours in the hot Italian sun (or cold Italian rain, depending on time of year). We got in pretty quickly, and were constantly amazed at how helpful all the Vatican employees were. I guess you’re supposed to be polite when you work for the Vicar of Christ on Earth. We walked over to an information desk, and without even asking, they offered a sedia a rotelle (wheelchair) for Mom. She’s been traipsing all over Europe, so we decided to give her a break in the museum. The wheelchair turned out to be a ticket to all sorts of services: elevators not open to the general public, cuts around roped-off areas, and so forth. We decided to go directly to the Sistine Chapel, which is always the most crowded place. In the chapel, the usual employees were yelling for people to be quiet and not to take photos. Then one of them gave over, grabbed Mom’s chair from Dad, and said “Signora, this place is reserved for you.” He then parked her directly in front of the altar with Michelangelo’s huge and amazing Last Judgment on the wall behind it. There was nobody else for ten feet in any direction from her, so we had a pretty nice view of everything. The ceiling with Michelangelo’s restored frescos astonishes every time I see it.

The Vatican Museums are really are plural: there are several separate museums, housed in the palace of the popes (they still live here upstairs someplace). It ties with the Louvre as the most incredible museum in the world, in my opinion. There are galleries of painting, sculpture, artifacts, coins, ceramics, and other art. Beside ancient Greek and Roman art, and the astounding collection of medieval, renaissance, baroque, and later European art, there are collections of ancient Egyptian and Near Eastern art, stuff from Africa, the Americas, and Asia, and even modern art. You need either to pick a few things in various places to see, or concentrate on just a couple of areas. We decided that after we left the Sistine Chapel, we would head for the Stanze di Raffaello, the rooms that Raphael frescoed for the pope in the early 16^th century. We got there fairly quickly (despite a few shoving tourists, who were not nearly as polite as the employees). My single favorite European painting is there, the School of Athens. Raphael has the great Western philosophers all gathered together around the two masters, Plato and Aristotle, and many of the figures are portraits of his contemporaries. Leonardo da Vinci appears as Plato, and Aristotle is Michelangelo. The other walls of the room, and the adjacent rooms, are also painted by Raphael, who is my favorite renaissance painter.

On our way to the chapel and the Raphael rooms we had traversed both the tapestry gallery, and the Cartographic Hall, which is a huge gallery painted with maps of the territories ruled by the papacy in the 16^th and 17^th centuries. We decided for on last gallery, the collection of Greek and Roman sculpture. One of the prizes of the collection is the Augustus of Prima Porta, a statue of the emperor in dress armor. I can’t go into the details of the iconography of this work or I will write a dissertation. Let’s just say it’s long been a favorite.

Since we had now been in the museums for over three hours, and were developing a serious case of museum-foot (it’s amazing how much softer concrete is, compared to marble!), we finally left and entered St. Peter’s Basilica, again by private elevator. Now, to say that St. Peter’s is a church is like saying that Versailles is a house. It is not only enormous (over two football fields long), but is dazzlingly opulent in its decoration. Not only is everything encrusted with polychromatic marbles, gilt bronze, and mosaics of semiprecious stones, but the work was done by some of the greatest masters of the renaissance and baroque, including my favorites Bernini and Raphael. Hanging over this immense splendor is Michelangelo’s vast dome. Just walking around the perimeter and glancing at some of the major works takes a good hour, and it would take days to really see everything.

By now, we were not only tired of walking on marble but hungry as well, so we caught a cab to Trastevere for a late lunch. We got off at Piazza Trilussa, and I showed Mom and Dad my apartment (from the outside; there’s dirty clothes everywhere), the bakery and toy store, and some of the other shops and eateries in the area. We walked down to Piazza di Santa Maria in Trastevere to see the church and fountain. Then we headed over to one of the few places open in the early afternoon (many of them close from about 1 to 4:30 pm and some don’t reopen until 8 or later). They know me here, and don’t laugh at my accent when I talk to them. We had antipasto: insalate caprese, with buffalo mozzarella, basil, and tomato; more seafood salad (Mom is allergic, so Dad and I ate this), and a big green salad to share. Mom had saltimbocca alla romana, in which a veal cutlet is covered with sage leaves and a slice of prosciutto, then sautéed. Dad and I both had grilled lamb with potatoes, a Roman favorite. They use really young lamb; I’m sure they are as cuddly as they are delicious.

Mom and Dad taxied back to the Borgo, and I headed home for some writing. Quick call with Gary, who assures me that everything is fine, and bed. I am beat; I hope it rains so people stay off the street and I can sleep.

Sunday 13 April: I take my parents to the Vatican, part 1

My parents are on a big European tour to celebrate their fiftieth wedding anniversary, which was in January. Last December during the holidays, my brothers, their families, and I all threw them a big bash in St. Louis, where they’ve lived the past eighteen years. Family and friends from Illinois, Wisconsin, Ohio, and other places came for the event (you can see pics at http://www.flickr.com/photos/danielcmack/sets/72157603612670418/; Gary took most of them). Now Mom and Dad (Carol and Walt to you) are spending the entire month of April in Europe. They’ve been to Budapest, Vienna, and Munich (where my dad lived right after the war), and are stopping in Rome for a few days. Then they’re off for Pisa, Florence, Venice, Milan, Switzerland, Frankfurt, and back to St. Louis. They do get around!

I got up early (for Sunday in Trastevere; Saturday night partying ends at 4 am), did the usual morning stuff, and made my way to their bed and breakfast in the Borgo, near the Vatican. They arrived at Fiumicino about 9:30 and went right to their b&b, where I met them a little after 11. It’s a really nice place, very light and airy with blond wood, all contemporary Italian style. It’s on the fifth floor (the sixth floor to Americans) with a nice patio with views of the Vatican. We started off, of course, with food. Just up the street was a nice little place for a light lunch of spaghetti alla carbonara, a traditional Roman dish. We then walked to Piazza San Pietro, through security at the basilica, and into the grottoes of Saint Peter’s. We’re going to the main basilica tomorrow after we finish with the Vatican Museums.

Mom, Dad and I then strolled down the Via della Conciliazione, along the Tiber, and crossed the river at Ponte Vittorio Emmanuelle II. We stopped at an enoteca for an early dinner (very early by Italian standards). The place had a forno al legno, a wood-fired stove, so we ordered pizza with artichokes, prosciutto, and olives (it also had a hard-boiled egg quarter in the center). An antipasto of grilled vegetables and a seafood salad completed the meal, with wine of course. Pics in the “cucina italiana” folder. We then headed back to Mom and Dad’s b&b. They were pretty beat. Yesterday they flew from Munich to Madrid, where they had to spend the night at the airport, and then spent today hiking around two countries (the Reppublica Italiana and the State of Vatican City). They’re hitting the hay early since tomorrow we go to the Vatican Museums. I caught a bus back to Trastevere and during the ride fell in with four lovely British women in Rome for four days from Chester. They had heard that Trastevere had good food, and since it was on my way, I took them to Piazza di Santa Maria and pointed out some of the great places to eat. I then headed back to the apartment, made a salad, and did some writing. New pics today at www.flickr.com/danielcmack in the Italian food set, and a new set for my parent’s visit. And there’s a new set for my friend Sandy, Angels for Sandy, because I know they’ll remind her of her own trip to Rome (hi Sandy! Hope you’re doing well!). Will call Gary in a bit and hit the hay.

Tomorrow: I take my parents to the Vatican, part 2.

Saturday 12 April: Laundry and food

Today I finally got up the nerve to attempt the laundry. I gathered up all my clothes from my flight to yesterday, along with sheets, pillow cases, and towels, and dumped them in my big roll-along suitcase. The laundry is about six blocks away, next to the local police station. I had some trepidation, since I checked the place out a couple of days ago and the system seemed incomprehensible. You don’t feed coins into a machine, you pay for some sort of ticket that you then give someone, who activates the machines for you. Plus, I have a horror of hot water shrinking all of my knits (Gary can confirm my paranoia on this topic). I would never find shirts my size in Rome. A local cook, who is a big guy himself, told me, “Of course you can buy big and tall sizes locally. Milano is only five hours by rail.” But my fear was misguided. The laundry is run by an Indian whose Italian is much better than mine, and whose English is better than most of our students’. He basically told me how much it would cost to wash and dry two huge loads (€20 total), then did all the work except folding. The whole thing took an hour. It being early Saturday morning, the place was relatively quiet except for the television, which was tuned to the ubiquitous MTV Hits Italia. Britney Spears and Kanye West played in rotation, which I could have done without, but I struck up a conversation with the attendant, who highly praised the Indian restaurant down the block. Maybe when I get sick of pasta and pizza; their menu is posted outside, and looks most savory.

I got home and started to unpack my laundry, then decided it was easier just to use the suitcase as a dresser and pull out what I needed when I needed it. Since I was on a roll, I figured I’d do a little cleaning. Now housekeeping is not my favorite task (something else Gary will confirm), but the place is so small it didn’t take long at all. The realtor did leave me well stocked with cleaning supplies. The one thing I had been confused about was trash: what do you do with it? I hadn’t taken it out in a week and a half, and there were banana peels in there. I know what you did with trash in Rome in antiquity and the Middle Ages: you chucked it out the window. These days, they’re more advanced. You put it in plastic shopping bags and leave it on the street, and someone eventually comes by and picks it up. At the caffè they said that it’s sorted for recycling centrally. When I repeated this with admiration at the bakery, I was told that they really “just dump it in the sea, like the mail they don’t feel like delivering.” This was followed by a statement about Berlusconi in Italian too rapid for me to follow.

Coffee at Good, to check email. Gary posted more great cat pics. I especially like the one where Xander asks if the rug makes him look fat (it does). The pics from his previous night’s dinner are also amusing. He went out with Emily, Jeff, Anne, and Ben. There is a truly priceless photo of Jeff and Ben; I can only assume that Anne and Emily were driving.

More work in the early afternoon, and some pics of the neighborhood, then I decided to treat myself to an early dinner at an actual restaurant with table service and multiple courses. I didn’t walk far before a proprietor tempted me with the daily special: oak-grilled T-bone steak with grilled vegetables. I went all out and had a (small) bottle of Castelli Romani, a white wine from the Alban Hills, and a bottle of mineral water “with gas,” as naturally carbonated water is called here. For an appetizer, I had a misto de mare, cold marinated squid, octopus, crab, and shrimp in oil with chilies and garlic. It was incredibly good, as was the bread (which of course the restaurant buys from my bakery across the street from me, as do most of the local eateries). Then they brought my steak: a monstrous t-bone on a huge, sizzling hot cast iron trencher. It looked like something Fred Flintstone would eat. I had ordered it molto crudo, sanguinissimo, and I was not disappointed. It bled on contact with the knife. It came with contorni: grilled potatoes, tomato halves, onions, and surprisingly, a grilled half head of purple cabbage, which was delicious. Since I had come this far, I decided to go for dessert, too. I had the panna cotta, which means “cooked cream;” in other words, custard. It was perfect—not very rich or very sweet, so you could appreciate both the delicate flavor and the subtle texture in the mouth. A drizzle of barely-sweetened raspberry purée made it perfect. With it I had caffè corretto, “corrected coffee.” How, you ask, do you “correct” a cup of espresso? By dumping in a huge shlog of liquor, in this case grappa, high-proof Italian brandy. It’s also good corrected with sambuca, amaretto, or even bourbon. I highly recommend it. All of this is immortalized on Flickr in the food set.

Back to the apartment to organize photos, make some notes, and get ready for tomorrow, when my parents visit.

Friday 11 April: research and music

I did some more work at AAR this morning, and also received my reader’s card. The photo is average for me; that is to say, it sucks. It’s still better than my passport! I’m on the trail of reliefs, coins, and other images that portray Gaius and Lucius, Augustus’ grandsons (both of whom died young) with the implements associated with the major priesthoods, especially the colleges of pontiffs and augurs.

In the afternoon, I wrote up some notes, ate lunch, then made off to Piazza Navona. This spring there is a concert series in the Borromini Sacristy of Sant’Agnese in Agone on the piazza. The recital this evening was the Borromini Trio, playing string trios by Mozart and Schubert. The performance was excellent; the players had a remarkable sense of ensemble, and were able to intuit each others’ nuances in a way that only comes from playing together a lot, for a long time. Either that, or they read each others’ minds. The great music in such a spectacular setting was fantastic. I arrived back at my apartment about 10 pm (that’s twenty-two o’clock here), and was not the least bit tired, so I decided to go out and hear more music in the neighborhood. Since it was 10 pm on Friday, the evening was just barely starting. There is lots of music here. One bar about thirty feet away is open from about 10 am until 3 am, and tries to attract American college students with their rotation of three albums: Abba’s Great Hits, the soundtrack to Pulp Fiction, and Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon. However, there is also a good variety of live music too, mostly jazz and blues. I got a gelato (ice cream, like liquor, is sold everywhere at all hours) and just walked around, stopping here and there to listen. My own musical tastes usually tend more toward Couperin, Bach, and the Ramones, but I do appreciate good R&B when I hear it, and I did. I got back to my place about 3 am, and hit the hay to prepare myself for the inevitable and long-delayed visit to the laundry.

At the request of many, I am going to start photographing food. I’ve started new sets on Flickr for food and for views of my neighborhood. Take a look at www.flickr.com/danielcmack, sets “La cucina italiana” and “Trastevere, my home away from home.”

Thursday 10 April: mostly baroque, with clams

Laundry will have to wait; the weather is too good. Pics from today at http://www.flickr.com/photos/danielcmack/sets/72157604476661799/. Wrote a bit in the morning, then walked over my bridge, the Ponte Sisto. It was built in the 15^th century, the first one since the ancient Romans, and today it is still a foot bridge. The same bunch of beggars dressed like extremely dirty bikers are always sitting on it with a pack of very friendly dogs. I fed the dogs pizza the other day. The locals tell me not to give anything to the beggars, hoping that they will eventually move to the Vatican. “Besides,” the baker across the street told me, “we have socialized medicine and housing. What else do they need?” I did see an American give one of them a one-euro note, which he added to an enormous roll in his pocket, so he’s apparently not hurting too much.

Campo de’ Fiori: Field of Flowers. Some say it was a flowering meadow, others that it’s been a flower market for centuries. Another story says the name comes from Flora, a mistress of Pompey the Great, who had a house here. Pompey, by the way, was Julius Caesar’s friend and colleague, then rival, then enemy, and was assassinated in Egypt, where he fled to escape Caesar. He was also Caesar’s son-in-law, even though he was older, because he married Caesar’s only child Julia. She died in childbirth, as did the baby, which is why Caesar had to adopt as his heir his great nephew Octavian, who became Augustus, the first emperor. Is this too much of a historical diversion? Maybe I need footnotes. Anyway, Campo de’ Fiori has a great daily market of produce and flowers. Great places to eat here, too. There’s a statue of Giordano Bruno, a philosopher who combined neoplatonism, Catholic mysticism, the Jewish Qabala (like Madonna), and occult theory to create a sort of late Renaissance “new age” system. He was burnt at the stake here in 1600, the last person ever executed by the Inquisition in Rome.

Visited the church of Sant’Andrea della Valle, a nice work of the early Baroque by Maderno. The dome is the second highest in Rome after St. Peter’s. Under the dome inside is a mirrored table so you can see the frescos on the inside of the dome. There is also a great pipe organ of the 17^th century over the entrance. I then hopped on a bus, which was so crowded that nobody could get out at the next stop because everyone was shoving so much. It so irritate the driver that he pulled away and drove six blocks and wouldn’t let anyone out. As soon as we came to a stop I pried a door open and leapt out. I walked over to the Trevi Fountain. One of the newest monuments of Rome (it’s mid-18^th century), the Trevi represents everything I love about Rome. I like Paris a lot, but there, the Trevi would be at the end of a beautiful, manicured square and would be just another nice piece of architecture. Not in Rome! To see the Trevi, you would think that piazza is Italian for “parking lot.” The fountain takes up literally three quarters of the square, and the rest is jam-packed with tourists. This does not, of course, prevent cars, trucks, and the ever-present Vespas from barreling through the crowd (more on Roman traffic another time). In Paris, every couple of centuries, someone comes along and cleans everything up: François I in the Renaissance, Louis XIV in the 17^th century, Napoleon in the early 19^th, and then de Gaulle. They keep a few things from the past in place, send some to museums, then clean up and build largely straight wide roads and broad plazas. Not here. In Rome, you build on, under, inside, above, and around whatever is already there, and often incorporate it into what you are building (except for Mussolini, who did a fair amount of bulldozing). Then you introduce traffic. It’s an absolute circus, but I love it.

I walked up to Piazza Barberini to see the Bernini fountains there. I love Bernini, and the Barberini were among his best patrons. They were a princely Roman family who contributed several popes to the Church. Their coat of arms features three honey bees, which is why so much Roman Baroque art has bees all over it (look at the baldacchino, or canopy, over the high altar at St. Peter’s. It’s also by Bernini, and bees crawl all over it). In the middle of the piazza is the Tritone Fountain. A triton is half man and half fish, what I call a “mer-dude” (as opposed to “mermaid”). The other fountain is a little one on the side, called the Fontana delle Api, or Fountain of the Bees. It has three wonderfully creepy Barberini bees on it. There’s always someone sitting on it, and everyone drinks from it. Since this is a commercial district, you see men in Armani and women in Prada stoop down and take a sip from the spouts. I filled my water bottle and stopped to eat: spaghetti con vongole. Vongole are the sweet little baby clams from the Tyrrhenian Sea, the part of the Mediterranean between western Italy, Sardinia, Corsica, and Sicily.

Metro to Piazza de Spagna and the Spanish Steps. Why are they the Spanish Steps, if they’re in Italy? The Spanish embassy to the pope used to be here. They are now filled with azaleas and other plants just starting to flower. I’ll have to come back in a couple of weeks when they’re in full bloom. At the foot of the steps is another Bernini fountain, la Baraccia, the old leaky boat. I really like this fountain. The water pressure here was too low for spectacular cascades of water, so Bernini took advantage of the situation and made a beat-up old rowboat full of leaks out of marble.

Metro to Ottaviano across the river near the Vatican, where Gary and I stayed in 2005. I caught a bus back to Trastevere, had a salad, did some writing, and called it a day.

Wednesday 9 April: Roma, caput mundi

After a morning of research, I gave Gary a call (all hail international roaming!). He assures me that Pattee is still standing, although he has also sent me several recent news items about doings in the stacks. I spent the afternoon at the caput mundi, the center of the world: the ancient Capitol, Forum, and Colosseum. From here, the city, the Senate, and the Emperor ruled most of Europe and the Mediterranean world, from Scotland to Africa, from France to Iraq. There’s a folder of pics at www.flickr.com/danielcmack. I am amazed, not at how much is gone forever, but at how much is left. Several sites in the heart of Rome, including my favorite, the Forum of Augustus and its Temple of Mars Ultor, are undergoing restoration. So is the monument to Victor Immanuel II, first king of a united Italy (if he’s the first, why is he number 2? Good question: he was previously king of Piedmont and Sardinia, which had a VE I).

Discover House, from whom we draw students for a Library Studies first-year seminar, lent me their banner, and I got a few good shots of it with Julius Caesar and others (check Flickr). The Colosseum astonishes every time I see it. As always, it was mobbed by tourists and groups of Italian school kids. What a great field trip; I had to settle for the Wonder Bread factory in Milwaukee when I was in grade school. There are always guys dressed like gladiators and such, who charge you to pose with them. I found the same Emperor and two centurions that Gary and I posed with three years ago! They once again obliged me, and also gave me a couple of good food tips (trippa alla romana, but you don’t want to know what’s in it if you don’t like organ meats).

I am going to make dinner at home this evening. I have fresh mixed greens (misto de verdure) from the market, and some nice mortadella and capers, so I think I’ll make a big salad and eat it on the steps of the fountain in the piazza down the street.

Tomorrow, a new adventure: laundry!

Tuesday 8 April: I visit the police in the rain

Rain today. During the day it was a light sprinkle, which I barely noticed. The Romans, of course, were bundled up in heavy coats under rain gear with umbrellas. The sky was a luminous blue-grey, which made the greenery and the many colors of the ever-present flowers even more vivid than they are in sunlight. After research at the AAR, I went to the police station. Italy requires all non-EU foreigners to register with the Polizia di Stato within eight days of arrival. If you stay in a hotel, they always do it for you (that’s why the hotel asks for your passport when you check in). Since I’m a tenant, I had to do it myself. I’ve heard many horror stories of the Italian bureaucracy, and dreaded the visit to the central office near Termini station. However, the friendly folks at the tourist information kiosk around the corner advised me to go to the local Trastevere office of the Questura, the state police, instead of the main headquarters. Since it was on my way back from the Academy, I stopped in to register. The police were friendly, laid back, and indulged me in my Italian. They made a copy of my passport, had me fill out a form, gave me a stamped copy, and bam! I’m now a straniero legittimo, a legal alien with permission to live in Italy until the date of my return flight. The whole process took five minutes. I’m glad I went to the local branch, also because I discovered a laundry right next door, with Internet access to surf while washing. This will come in handy, and soon. I got online and saw Gary’s pics of the kitties and our new screen door on Flickr. Make sure you see the one of Xander stoned on catnip! Spent the afternoon in a preliminary investigation of the epigraphic collection at the Museo Nazionale Romano Terme di Diocleziano, one of the world’s great collections of historical documents. Good thing the Romans liked to write on stone and bronze; it’s a lot more durable than paper. I will be back there a lot.