Italy: Four Churches and the Cities They Define

Originally posted  November 18, 2003

Rome

Christi, a member of the AIFS cohort, had her birthday the day before mine and since the beginning of the semester we had been planning to travel somewhere to celebrate. We decided to go to Italy over the weekend before Armistice Day, giving me 5 full days to travel, and Christy 4 (she has class on Fridays). At Christi’s suggestion we planned to hit all the main cities: Rome, Florence, Venice, and Milan, in that order. Everything came together smoothly. I decided to fly to Rome solo and spend Friday on my own. I left Grenoble with high expectations, and also doubts about how well I’d hold up under such intense traveling. My flight over was smooth and so was the train from the airport to Rome. The only turbulence came when I got to the hostel. I had picked one close to the gigantic train station in the middle of Rome called Termini. I arrived and was greeted by a nice British guy with red hair who showed me to the room. It was dorm-style with 8 beds and we discovered at that point that they were all occupied. Alas, the hostel had overbooked the room! He explained in a very distressed tone that it was only his second day working there and he would tell the manager everything in the morning and amends would be made. It was closing in on 1am at this point and I was tired, I was happy just to see him pull out a mattress and set it on the floor.

The Forum

I woke up the next morning to the snoring 40-year- old man in the corner and the group of Ecuadorian girls who had to catch an early flight. This was at 5am. I stuffed my head further into my pillow and went back to sleep. I woke up again at 7am, this time ready for the day to begin. I laced up and headed out the door for a tourism run, map in hand. I learned 2 things quickly: 1) even in the low-season, Rome is brimming with tourists and people, and 2) drivers there are absolutely mad. There are no pedestrian lights, you have to literally walk into oncoming traffic and hope they will stop in order to cross the street. Scooters dominate the roads and it is not uncommon to encounter one barreling towards you at 35mph on the sidewalk. I chose a route that took me past the Coliseum and a couple of famous fountains, hoping to knock out a few of the thousands of famous landmarks within Rome’s city limits early. This was a mistake. All I encountered were street names that weren’t on the map and lots and lots of people. An hour and a half later, after getting lost a few times and becoming overly frustrated with the hoards of people inhibiting my stride, I returned to the hostel. The 40-year-old snorer was awake and inquisitive about my story, why I was in Rome, etc. I met a really nice Aussie named Nayla who invited me to go on a walking tour of the city with her that morning. I had originally planned on going to the Vatican City that day but I decided to go with her to have some company, thinking I would have plenty of time later. We left together and started chatting about our travels and what we are doing with our lives at the moment. She is living in Dublin and working as an au pair of sorts for friends of her family.

A few minutes into our walking tour, I felt compelled to break off and follow my original plan, feeling I’d regret it if I didn't. I told Nayla and she was very understanding. She travels alone most of the time and is used to wanting to do her own thing. So I hopped on the Rome metro and headed out to the Vatican City.

I arrived at the Vatican around 11:30 am and went straight to the museums. They include 12 rooms of Raphael’s work, 3 huge rooms of Michelangelo’s sculpture, an impressive collection of Egyptian Art, the Vatican library, and, of course, the Sistine Chapel. You start at one end of the long building and you follow a trail from which you may not deviate unless you want to skip the anti-chambers and go straight to the Chapel. I wanted to see everything I could so I explored all the rooms and saved the Chapel for last. I saw the School of Athens, haunting rooms devoted to chiaroscuro depictions of biblical scenes, a room painted with maps from the époque, and that famous ceiling which stole Michelangelo’s youth. Each room opened onto another famous work, another astoundingly perfect production. It was like reliving my World Civ class from high school, only I was seeing it all with my own eyes. Pictures were permitted in certain areas, but I couldn’t bring myself to take any because they just don’t do it justice. I spent a few hours in the museums and the chapel then worked my way over to St. Peter’s church. I went up to the famous Bernini dome, which provides an unparalleled view of the city of Rome, the Piazza San Pietro, and the main sanctuary from the inside. Definitely worth the 700 steps it takes to climb up there. (If you want to skip the stairs, you can pay an extra 2 euros and take an elevator.)

Piazza San Pietro

 Everything inside St. Peter’s, down to the very last tile in the floor, is designed with glory in mind. Everything is the height of its craft: the mosaic floor, the gigantic wooden altar piece, the ceiling, the dome, the carvings, the sculptures, the organ. The immense size and the awesome beauty of the building are hard to handle. There is so much to take in. I passed Michelangelo’s Pieta, and craned my neck to see the frescoed cherubs looking thoughtfully to the heavens in the smaller vaults of the chapels and narthex. I left the Vatican almost not believing what I had just seen. I had to sit down for a while and reflect on it, plus my legs had turned to jelly after all those stairs and my inadvertently extended run in the morning. *

Bernini's alter in St. Peter's Basilica

After St. Peter’s and the Vatican, I had planned to see the Galleria Borghese and the Catacombs just outside the ancient city walls. It had started to sprinkle a little so I just went to the Gallery, as it was closer. It is situated in an old Medici villa in the middle of a beautiful park in the northern part of the city. It is rather hidden and you have to venture through a number of twisting trails to get there. I finally did after asking for directions from a kindly doorman, and waited to be let in to the exhibits. You are only allowed in with groups of 90 or less and you are given 2 hours maximum to explore. The gallery is not very big and is mainly devoted to Bernini. It houses his most famous work, Apollo and Daphne. After viewing this, I believe that the mark of a great sculptor is to make the stone come alive. I could feel the wind blowing Daphne’s robes and hair, I could sense the tension between the two figures. The sculpture had so much movement even though it is still: every fold, every strand of hair, every ruffle was perfectly detailed. I marveled in front of this piece for a while then explored other rooms full of Caravaggio, Donatello, and Titian.

I returned to the hostel exhausted, visually and physically. I was simply overwhelmed with everything I had seen. Nayla and I had promised to meet up for dinner, and she was at the hostel when I returned. We traded stories about the day and the 40-year-old man joined in on the conversation (What did he even do all day?). I learned he is an ex-army soldier who was on three weeks holiday from an assignment teaching English in Belgium. He is recently divorced and rather flamboyant. I have reasonable doubts about his heterosexuality, though my suspicions were never confirmed. Nayla and I decided to go look for food after she took a nap and I wrote postcards. Two other girls who had been there the night before, one of Spanish origin who is studying in Florence and another from New Jersey with the same program, returned and took naps as well. We invited them to get dinner with us and they agreed. After naptime, all us girls and Andy, the ambiguous snorer, headed out in search of a good pizza. We found it and Andy decided it would be fun to order champagne. He ended up drinking the better part of two bottles and paid for dinner. I wasn’t going to complain because I had eaten a lot. He’s a nice enough guy, just maybe lonely and more than a little confused about his life. The girl from Jersey and the Spanish girl, Christine and Anna respectively, kept making fun of each other. Nayla was just laid-back with a dry, hilarious sense of humor. A master of one-liners and mischievous to the core, she provided many a good laugh throughout the meal. ** It was also this adventurous soul who suggested we walk around Rome and see the city at night. I was tired, but I had just eaten very well, and what could be more interesting than exploring the Eternal City under the cover of night with four complete strangers?

The Coliseum at night

Nayla and I planned a route past the beautiful Fontana di Trevi, the Capitol, the Forum, and the Coliseum. I planned to see all of those the next day with Christi, but I thought they would be beautiful at night. The moon was full and reflected off the light cloud cover, casting eerie shadows on the ruins of Rome’s oldest street, the Via Sancta, at the Forum. The Capitol was lit in all its Roman pride and glory atop its commanding hill, the Coliseum’s flaws and renovations were carefully hidden in the darkness, and the Fontana di Trevi was a bustling center for nightlife, street performers, and Pakistanis selling cheap touristy souvenirs. Nayla and I were approached by two Italian guys, one of whom knew English well and began to tell us about how great Italy is, and the other stood there and smiled, supremely confident and resplendent in his Italianness. They bored us to death, talking about Italian perfume and leather and didn’t let us get a word in edgewise.  They had us almost cornered against one of the railings by the fountain.  All hope of a graceful and easy exit abandoned, we cut the guy off mid-perfume rave, made up an excuse and got out of there. 

We walked around past some bars but never went in, and by the time we made it back to the hostel, it was close to 1am. I was completely exhausted and needed to rest up for another big day, and the arrival of Christi. Thankfully, the hostel had refunded the first night’s stay, and I got a real bed that night.

Fontana di Trevi

I enjoyed Rome much more at night. Things were more calm, less hectic, not so crowded. The metro during the day was overflowing with people. I had to push my way on and I started to get claustrophobic so I had to get off a stop early. I have never been so tightly packed in all my life. Not even after Tibetan Freedom concert at RFK when all of the DC metropolitan area was riding the orange line home at the same time. I enjoyed the dark, cool calm of the evening and the solitude of the monuments without all the crowds around them. I had begun to dislike Rome, but that evening changed my mind. I woke up Saturday morning, went running in the tranquil park I had explored the day before, and headed out. I had wanted to see the catacombs of San Callisto, but I wasn’t sure if I would have time before Christi arrived. I decided to go for it, knowing that I wouldn’t have time later in the day. I caught a bus and headed out beyond the old city walls to the place where the ancient roman government mandated that the Christians be buried. The catacombs date back to the 2nd century and are over 75 meters deep. The oldest are at the top because they worked from the top down. I saw the grave of St. Cecilia and a number of frescoes and etchings thousands of years old. By the time I was finished, Christi had landed and was about to arrive at the train station. I hurried back and met up with her. We dropped off her baggage and then set off to the see the Forum, the Palatine Hill, the Capitol, the Pantheon, the Coliseum, Piazza Novana, and the Fontana di Trevi. The Forum is a collection of ruins in the heart of the city where all the politics used to take place. You can see the remains of the room where the senators used to meet, you can see the arch of Septimus Severus which honors Julius Cesar’s victories in the Middle East, and you can also see the place where Romulus was supposedly murdered. 

The Palatine hill offered unparalleled panoramas of the city, serene green spaces, and other walks through the history of the most powerful city in the ancient world. I couldn’t get over the fact that I was walking under the warm Tuscan sun through the places that lay at the heart of modern civilization. Rome was the center, and it still holds on to that pride and power today. Christi and I grabbed a not-so-great dinner near the station, picked up our bags, and caught our train to Florence. In less than 8 hours, we had seen most of the big monuments in Rome. The train ride was relaxing and I was looking forward to meeting the proprietor of the hostel in Florence, who personally e-mailed me upon my reservation to welcome me and express his delight in our choosing his establishment. He calls himself Leonardo.

Pallatine Hill

      I was glad to leave Rome.  The hostel was great for the people I met but not so great for the actual sleeping arrangements. It’s always hit or miss.  The city was too crowded and though I am eternally grateful to have seen everything that I saw, it is too grand, too caught up with its glory days and with its reputation as the center of the world.  You can see this in its people as well.  Italy as a whole is a very proud culture, but Rome is the most representative of this.  The taxi drivers solicit you the second you step off the train “Where you want to go, I take you, very fast, I know city very well.   Where you want to go?” The restaurant owners come out and confront you if they see you looking at the menu: “Tea? Coffee? Best Tiramisu in Rome?  Come in, we have table for you right now.”  Italy is in your face.  I noticed immediately the difference between its arrogance and French arrogance.  In Italy, it’s evident and they actively vocalize their pride in their country, their products, and what they have to offer.  They advertise it, like those guys in front of the fountain.  In France, the arrogance is more subtle.  It is a quiet, albeit apparent, arrogance in which they let the renowned beauty of the culture, art and specialties speak for themselves.  Those who don’t understand are not enlightened; they are brushed aside as unable to comprehend, and thus unfit to enjoy, the greatness that is France. 

 Florence

We arrived in Florence, made our way to the hostel and met Leonardo, a very kind middle aged businessman who welcomed us and showed us to our beautifully decorated room. He also gave us a map and told us what we should see and what would be open the next day. We went to sleep with our day planned out. We awoke the next morning very early. I opened the large glass doors in our room and walked out on our private terrace into a picturesque Italian morning: birds chirping, orange roofs with little trails of steam rising from them, and brightly painted ceramic tiling. My legs were very sore and my feet were hurting from walking so much so I skipped the run, plus we only had until 1:30pm in Florence. This weekend being a holiday weekend, everyone in Europe was traveling which made train reservations difficult. We took what we could get. A small little adventure in the morning occurred when the luggage lock I had been using suddenly refused to open. I verified the code 4 times and tried and tried but it didn’t open. I didn’t have time to worry about it then, so I decided to put it off until Venice. But it was in the back of my mind. “What am I going to do if I can’t get it open…?”

We started off at the open-air market full of leather- goods, scarves, t-shirts, and other touristy trinkets. We wove through those streets glancing at the display windows, and then made our way to the Accademia museum. It was there that I fell in love.

I saw him first from a distance at the end of a long hallway. He was very tall with a boyish, but regal stance. His heroic body and flawless proportions drew me closer. As I walked towards him, I surveyed his thick, curly locks and emotive face, betraying the fear and also the fortitude in his heart. He is perpetually frozen in a moment of reflection, daunted by the challenge that awaits him, yet determined to triumph. His name is David. I suppose I should state that the object of my adoration (if you hadn’t guessed already) is made of marble and is a little less than 500 years older than me, created in 1503 by Michelangelo. It goes without saying that I was completely enraptured by him. I understand now Michelangelo’s idea of releasing the living character he saw within each stone that he carved. The precision of the contours, the features, down to the veins in the hands and the wrinkles on his thumb joint left me utterly speechless.

Florence began and ended with David. We visited the large church which is the heart of Florence, the Duomo. It is a notable structure mostly because of its architectural hodge-podge of gothic spires, roman domes, and ornate mosaic. It was colorful and lively, especially in the context of the busy square full of tourists and natives catering to tourists, trying to sell overpriced postcards and souvenirs. Christi and I took the necessary photos and walked through the streets to the Ponte Vecchio where we gazed at the picturesque canal and gawked in the windows of the jewelers that line both sides of the bridge. We then went to see the tombs of Galileo, Machiavelli, Michelangelo, and Dante at a church east of the bridge. There was a mass going on so we couldn’t see them up close, but being in the presence of their remains provided a ghostly but noble atmosphere.

Duomo in Florence

After the tombs, we walked back up through the streets and started to succumb to the lure of Florentine leather. We walked into a shop where I found a gorgeous beige colored knee-length jacket. I tried it on and it fit well. The merchant who ran the store began gushing about it and showed me all the demonstrations about how high the quality of leather was and how the coat would last me years and years. We began the bargaining process. The tags in all the coats read at least 500 euro. This one said 990. This is the price the shopkeepers put down to scare you, and then lure you into thinking you’re getting a good deal with they say stuff like “Because is good weather today and my boss not here, I will make you very good price for this jacket. It go so well with your blonde hair, I give it to you for 380.” No good. I wasn’t even planning on buying a leather jacket here, and though this one was changing my mind with every glance in the mirror, I couldn’t spend 400 dollars, no matter the quality or the beauty. I told him no, he came down another hundred. I refused again, he came down 50. He stopped there and I told him I’d think about it. Christi found a really hip maroon leather short jacket with a double zip that she liked a lot. She bargained that one down 100 Euro. We left and told him we’d come back if we wanted it. “I don’t understand why you no buy this right now, this price I give you, my boss kill me if he knew. I give my SEESTER this price, is very special price.” Yeah, okay buddy, we get the picture. As much as I loved the creamy luxury of the coat, I didn’t think I would use it enough. I had actually been considering a leather jacket for a long time though I hadn’t been really serious. And now finding myself in the leather capital of the world, I didn’t want to give up. *** I went into a store I had seen earlier that morning and selected a chocolate brown, knee-length, double-zip calfskin coat that I saw on a model in the window. It fit like a glove and I got the price down from 210 to 160. I thought that was reasonable enough and I bought it. Christi went back and bought the maroon one, and we completed our visit in Florence with Italian leather.

Venice

We caught our train to Venice with no problems and took the time to relax and plan our activities. We arrived around 4pm and checked into our hostel, situated right on the Grand Canal. We installed ourselves in the clean, homey room which we shared with three other people, two American guys and a British girl, and then headed out to find dinner and explore the intricate puzzle of waterways that is Venice. I went next door to find a concierge who spoke English, I asked for a pair of pliers, and jimmied the lock on my suitcase open. I was so thankful at the prospect of being able to change clothes the next day. To get around in Venice you take a “bus” which is actually a boat. It works just like a bus, it’s just on water. We took that to the end of the Grand Canal, Piazza San Marco, which is the center of action in Venice. We found a restaurant where we received bad service and mediocre food. Tourists beware, many traps abound. We were overcharged and not satisfied. To soothe our anger, we bought our first gelato of the trip. It’s amazing what a little ice cream can do. I got “myrtillo” which is blackberry, and Christi got chocolate and hazelnut. If there’s something better than gelato in this world, I don’t want to know about it. We walked along talking and getting lost on purpose with our velvety textured, richly flavored cones. We finally headed back to the hostel around 11pm and got a good night’s rest, dreaming of the day’s successful bargaining, and the next day’s gelato selections.

So happy with gelato!

We woke up and I considered a run but decided against it, figuring the navigation of the canals and the number of people in Venice would render it very unpleasant. Instead we got an early start and took a boat out to the island of Murano, world-famous for its glass artisans. There we found colorful and delicately formed glass sculptures, beautiful frames and beaded jewelry. Layer upon layer of bright colors that each reflect light a different way make each vase, each bowl, each glass a work of art. We also visited the glass museum there where we learned about the process of glass-blowing and saw some works dating back to 5th century BC. 

After Murano, we went back into Venice to Piazza San Marco and visited the Palazzo Ducale. This ornate structure housed the chief political leader of Venice and was the center of the Venetian government. It also houses the world’s largest oil painting, Tintoretto’s Paradise. The palace consisted mainly of room after room of vast canvases, gilded molding, mosaic floors, and demonstrations of the power and wealth of the government. It was truly an impressive and imposing building. It demands respect, like so much of Italian art and architecture.

Piazza San Marco, Venice  

We visited the Basilica di San Marco next where we viewed the tomb of St. Mark, and the jewel-encrusted golden alter screen that acts as a partition between the main sanctuary and the Holy of Holies. The ceiling of the basilica is all glittering gold mosaic interspersed with meticulous depictions of biblical characters and saints. The tiles are so intricately placed that you can’t tell that they are not painted, you have to see the detail photographs on display to pick out the separate tiles. When you look to where the light from the windows hits the vaults, it resembles the sun sparkling on a giant golden wave.

We left the Basilica on a mission to find a restaurant in the guidebook we had with us. We went halfway across town to find this hole-in-the-wall pizza place and it was worth every effort we made. The pizza was cheap, and the best I’ve ever had in my life. I got a white pizza with mozzarella, eggplant, corn and asparagus, Christi went with the classic red sauce and pepperoni. I had never had corn on pizza before, but it was by far the best ingredient. The sweet yellow kernels accented the garlicky sauce sandwiched between the crispy, airy, thin crust and the melted cheese. Christi’s pepperoni was spicy and sliced very thick. We ended our meal with gelato, of course. This time I went for yoghurt and strawberry. The yoghurt was incredible. With its more firm texture and slightly tart taste it accented the fresh, sweet strawberry flavor.

Canals of Venice

After that satisfying meal, we headed to the Accademia gallery which, we found, closes early on Mondays. We thought about going to another gallery close by, but instead we decided to go back to the hostel, put on warmer clothes (the sun goes down early and with it, the temperatures), and go to the Ponte Rialto, the center of commerce and nightlife for Venice.

By the time we got to the bridge, it was dark and the area was brimming with sparkling lights and hordes of tourists. Same as Rome, Venice was packed with travelers. We walked up and down the narrow lanes, browsing the artisan crafts and buying some fresh fruit from a local producer. Marie T. loves pasta so I bought her some from a store that makes it fresh every day. We just took in the sights and sounds of Venice at night. We had to pull ourselves away from the charming city and catch our train to Milan.

 Milan

We arrived around 11pm and tried to decipher the directions to our hotel. They said 5 minutes from the train station. It was more like 20, and they didn’t bother to give street names or where to turn. We got there without too much delay and went immediately to sleep. The next morning I awoke and went running in a lovely park that was ablaze with autumn colors. Then Christi and I packed up our gear and got ready for our last day in Italy.

Milan turned out to be a disappointment. We wanted to see the Last Supper by Da Vinci, but the tickets for the day were all sold out. We tried to “faire de la charme” as the French say, but the Italian museum employees were not having it. We didn’t let it get us down. We decided we would go see the La Scala, the world famous opera house. Wouldn’t you know it… closed to visitation for renovations, even though they are still putting on productions. That was another blow. We decided to try the Duomo. The front of the church was covered over by renovation cloths, thus blocking the best view of this striking example of gothic architecture. I am convinced that all of Milan is under construction. Every corner we turned we saw another crane or set of scaffolding. All of Grenoble is under construction too. I guess it’s sort of a metaphor for me right now. I am under construction, a work in progress, tearing down and rebuilding. ****

Gloomy Milan Duomo

We started to find our mishaps humorous and we were laughing as we walked inside the gigantic church. The somber interior quickly extinguished our mirth and we continued to grow more quiet as we were awed by the colossal vaults and huge oil paintings draped in the spaces between columns. All of them showed scenes of martyrs, or dismal stories of torture. The church left an overall impression of dark, austere gothic beauty. We exited out into the grey cold of the morning and I suggested going to a nearby art museum, so as not to be completely devoid of famous art. ***** I saw some more beautiful Caravaggio, Titan and Boticelli pieces. It's almost hard to focus on their beauty after seeing so many. It's almost like eating 14 scoops of gelato right in a row. You start to not taste them after a while, even though you know you are eating the worlds most delicious frozen treat. 

We started to get hungry so we went to a pizza and pasta place and ate very well. I had been yearning for an insalata Caprese...fantastic. We then went to the famous Milan fashion district. The streets are lined with private fashion houses that you have to make appointments at just to go inside. We also walked past swanky Cartier, Armani, Dolce & Gabanna, and Valentino boutiques, to name a few. But all we did was be in their presence. You can't go into them, they all have imposing doors and there are no displays. We made our way up the boutique-lined streets and back to the hotel where we picked up our bags and headed to the train station for the 5 hour ride back to Grenoble. I was so happy to come back. This town has become my home away from home. Being out of the French culture and language for 5 days made me miss my real home even more and made me feel out of place. It’s hard work to be in another country, even harder to travel outside your established foreign realm. Though, it was full of adventure, both good and bad, and I have seen things that I will never forget.

Each city’s character is manifested in the main church. Rome with St. Peter’s (technically it’s the Vatican, but it’s all within the city limits) and its overwhelming beauty and richness, the grandeur and size of everything. It’s almost too much to take in. It shows the glory and power of Ancient Rome, the wide influence of the Catholic church throughout the ages, and how those days are still present in the modern culture. That pride and former leading of the known world will forever be a part of the Roman character. The colorful and smaller Duomo in Florence emulates the small town and its diverse inhabitants - muted but beautiful on the outside, warm and welcoming on the inside. The glittering San Marco in Venice brings to mind the sun sparkling on the canals and the intricate plan of the mosaics are just like the city, jewels in and of themselves. And Milan with its cold and unwelcoming Duomo warns of the exceptionally fast-paced and unfriendly atmosphere that the city holds.

I am glad that I got to see all the cities, and though it was a lot, I don’t think it was too much. I only scratched the surface, but I believe I got a good look into Italian culture. Now I am packing for Paris, even though I have been home for less than 24 hours. I hope you all are doing well. The semester is flying by and each week goes faster than the last. Christmas will be here before I know it. But there’s still 5 weeks to go. Keep in touch! Ciao!




*I mention this later on, but in Paris I read Irving Stone's The Agony and the Ecstasy and I think the part that struck me then and has stuck with me is Michelangelo's singleness of purpose. "I saw an angel in the marble and I carved until I set him free". It is only with this level of passion and devotion to an art that it can be brought about with such results as Michelangelo achieved in the Pieta.

** I have a particular memory from that night of her seeing some guys at another table staring at us, and in response, Nayla made inappropriate gestures with one of the empty bottles of champagne.

*** It is hilarious to me reading this now how quickly I talked myself into buying a leather jacket, and making it a priority. This thought had not crossed my mind seriously prior to this trip but quickly became a primary goal.

**** Guess what, 21-yr-old me... it never ends.

***** Isn't it crazy that was my FALL BACK plan in Italy? Yeah, we can't do that other thing, so let's go see more outrageously beautiful works of art... oh alright.