It did seem a place we should not miss once we were so close. Close is relative – it’s almost 700 miles as the crow flies from Paris, and we’re not crows. But when else would we have the chance to visit the city that, more than anywhere else, has a claim to be the most central to the history of western civilization?
So I looked for someone to invite me to give a talk, so at least cover my own expenses, and was thrilled to reestablish contact with Sergio Fabbrini, Director of the School of Government at LUISS, a leading university of the social sciences in Italy. Sergio was doing postdoctoral work at Berkeley when I was a graduate student, and is one of the leading European scholars on the United States, so it was neat that he remembered me and thought it would be good for me to do a seminar on the U.S. healthcare reform. I had a great time at the seminar, where I presented my interpretation to a small group of faculty and students, with two of the faculty commenting on a related paper that I had sent ahead. One was another American scholar with whom I turn out to share some core interests, so this was even better intellectually than I could have hoped. Thank you, Sergio, and I hope you got good value!
Most of the trip, though, was dedicated to exploring Rome. We decided to take the overnight train from Paris because we’d never done that. So the idea was to leave Friday at 6:45 after school and get to Rome about 10:15 a.m.. Then Sydelle and Abby would fly back Tuesday afternoon so Abby would miss only two days of school; while I would give my talk Tuesday at 6:00 p.m. and come back Wednesday afternoon.
A clever plan, I hoped. And certainly one that would begin with a new experience. Actually the train was a bit of a disappointment, though still sort of cool. I expected the train would be smooth like the TGVs. No such luck. It was old-ish and rickety and shook a bunch, which was particularly problematic when we went to the dining car.
The dining car was understaffed and had much less choice than advertised. But we were joined at our table by a woman who worked for a train management company and was able to explain to us all about how this night train was not at all like some of the others (she particularly praised the Paris-Berlin route) and help us understand what was going on around us. And aside from the stale bread and not getting water when we wanted it as the poor waiter went flying (sometimes literally) around the car, our dinner was pretty good and even stayed on the table (not so for some neighbors!).
When we got back to our couchette (little room) the beds had already been folded down and our 3-person bench replaced by 3 bunk beds. This was very tight – the beds were too close to sit on any of them, and there was very little room to maneuver around our luggage. There was a little sink but, since the ladder to climb up to the top two bunks was next to it, it was very hard to use. One had to crawl into the bottom bunk, maneuver around the ladder, and then sort of twist to get into position.
Then in the morning we were awakened early by the attendant who gave us our passports back (having them taken was not so comforting, though perhaps they were needed at a Swiss border) and handed me a tray with coffee and packaged croissants. But there was no place to put the tray! And they never did come back to fold up the beds. Eventually, after we got to Florence, enough people had left the train that we went to another room, where the beds had been folded up, and just sat there for the rest of the way to Rome.
It’s a hilly ride by the way, and apparently quite a hilly country. Lots of tunnels. Lots of slowing down and speeding up. And eventually, around noon, we got to Termini Station.
Rome! Or at least a very big and confusing train station. There is an information booth. The guide books say so. God knows where; the best I could find (after asking) was information for the trains, which was not about to get us to our hotel. Eventually we gave up the idea of finding the bus and took a cab. So, sometime around 1:00 pm, we ended up at the Hotel Delle Muse, which is near LUISS north of the central parts of the city, perhaps a mile above the big park known as Villa Borghese. It was a nicely quiet location, with very helpful staff, a very good-sized and well-arranged room, and a decent and reasonably-priced restaurant. And we could get into our room! Heaven for three people who hadn’t showered or eaten breakfast (the packaged croissant was not too attractive). So we happily showered and had a bunch of pasta in the hotel garden under a roof of leaves (basically a very large and permanent sukkah). And thus were finally ready to start seeing some sights. Destination: Ancient Rome.
Here I started or perhaps continued making mistakes – buying the wrong tickets, getting lost, that sort of stuff. But anyway we bought three three-day passes for the public transportation from the concierge, and went off to the nearby bus stop. A longish ride took us past Termini (well, now we knew where that bus stop was) and we got off at Santa Maria Maggiore, which is pretty spectacular. The usual story… an accretion of levels and decoration beginning in the 4th century C.E., lofty campanile (bell tower), 5th century mosaics, coffered ceiling gilded with gold from the New World, tomb of the great sculptor Bernini, yawn… actually not yawn at all, quite spectacular. And we only stopped there because it seemed the closest stop to the Colosseum!
So on towards the Colosseum, trying to follow the map, which didn’t explain that what looked like a street was really a stairway up about eight flights. Tired from the climb we found ourselves in a plaza with another church, St. Peter in Chains. OK, what could this be? Founded in the 5th century to house the chains that bound St. Peter in Palestine (chains with said asserted history are displayed in a reliquary below the altar), more accretions of art and history, including the tomb of Pope Julius II which includes a statue of Moses by this guy named Michaelangelo. Pretty impressive statue, though we were more than a little put off by the fact that he had horns. I interpreted this as an anti-semitic slur (my grandfather once took work at a shoe factory in a town in Quebec and, when he declined an invitation to join fellow workers at church on Sunday, explaining he was Jewish, a bunch crowded around him and felt his head to see if he had horns). It turns out that the St. Jerome translation of the bible described Moses as having horns when he came down from Sinai with the tablets, so it wasn’t meant to be a slur (it is likely a mistranslation, but a somewhat understandable one, and was clearly about Moses, not all the Hebrews).
Anyway, so we stumbled across two ancient churches, one including one of the most famous statues in the world, while just looking for the Colosseum. Finally we found it. Long line. Sydelle had had it with lines and, besides, we had seen a perfectly good Roman arena in Nimes. Actually a really fine one, much better-preserved than the Colosseum and still used some for bullfights. But Abby thought we really should see it, so she and I braved the line and went in. Unlike in Nimes, all the seating is gone. And the basic design is the same. But it was worth it because it is much bigger than Nimes (though Nimes seats over 20,000) and we could see the ruins of all the stuff under the main floor (places to store lions and prisoners and gladiators, places for various stagecraft). And besides, it’s The Colosseum. It’s sort of the bottom of the hill and beyond it is the Roman forum. Many arches. Many ruins. Sydelle and Abby and I walked up the hill looking for a way into the forum. There must be one. We could see people walking around looking at rocks and blocks. But we couldn’t find it. As I said, I was not having a successful tour guide trip.
Eventually we found ourselves at the end of the Forum (something called Capitoline Hill on the left; that’s where Capitol Hill got its name) with the Imperial Forum on the right of a big street in between (more ruins) and we got to the Piazza Venezia, in front of the monument to Victor Emmanuel, the first king of reunited Italy. This is a true monstrosity from the 1930s that gives fascism a bad name. Big, though. More wandering eventually brought us to the Pantheon. The only fully intact ancient Roman building, mainly because it got turned into a church in 609. And also was pretty well-built. It’s amazing; the concrete dome was Michaelangelo’s model for St. Peter’s and the dome was the world’s largest cast concrete structure until the 20th century. Beautifully proportioned too. In addition to the first two kings of reunited Italy, a guy named Raphael is buried there.
Onward! The most famous baroque square of Rome is called Piazza Navona. So we found our way there and collapsed for a while at a café table. Strawberries for me, diet coke for sydelle, water for abby. We kept seeing other tables with bowls of potato chips, but Abby restrained me. We had decided that, after our late and large lunch, we would have gelato for dinner. So, after a while, we went wandering again in the area around the Piazza. We checked out a cool toy store, and a Roman Zara’s (had to compare to Paris Zara’s and Madrid Zara’s; I think Madrid wins). Wandered some more, and eventually found the Trevi Fountain. Major tourist attraction. Actually quite pretty lit up, though also ridiculously crowded (this was becoming a theme). In an exceedingly bumbling way I then found the way to a widely-praised gelato place. OK, but not as good as our two favorite places in Paris. And so onward again… towards the Spanish Steps!
By now it was dark and the steps were a very lively scene. We sat down, looking up at the top and wondering if we would climb up. Sydelle, whose hips and feet were not treating her well, preferred to sit and watch. So we sat and watched as a lively demonstration began demanding democracy in Italy, as opposed to rule by the bankers, or corrupt businessmen/politicians, or whoever rules Italy these days (the critique was probably accurate enough). I wasn’t sure why one would demonstrate in front of a crowd many of whom likely did not vote in Italy and did not speak Italian, but it was good theater. Abby and I then walked to the top and checked out the dome of St. Peter’s in the far distance. Then we maneuvered past an obstacle course of vendors on the way down, found Sydelle, and all headed back to the hotel in a taxi.
At the time this was an exhausting, bewildering day. Looking back on it, I guess it sounds like one of the most amazing days of my life. It was one or the other or both.
The next morning we actually slept rather late (nine-ish). But we were hungry enough after our gelato dinner that we all made it downstairs by ten for the hotel’s fairly substantial breakfast buffet. Then we were off in search of the Jewish Ghetto, in particular the Jewish Historical Museum. I wasn’t sure how much there would be to add to any other such museum, but it was very good. The Roman Jewish community is, after all, one of the oldest continually-functioning Jewish communities in the world – dating back to the era of the Republic. Its fate and status oscillated over the centuries, and particularly from Pope to Pope. And in the years after the Jews in Spanish territories were subjected to the Inquisition, the community both grew by migration (including from parts of Italy ruled by the Spanish) and was subjected to new oppression, by creation of the Ghetto. In the ghetto years, however, the community like Christian communities devoted limited resources to their religious life, creating brilliant artifacts. Amazing torah and ark covers. Then came liberation with creation of Italy and destruction of the Pope’s power. It was at this time that the Jews of Rome were allowed to build a truly magnificent synagogue, dedicated in 1904. And, unlike the great synagogue of Berlin, this one is still standing. But the community still suffered greatly from fascism and the Nazi occupation; our tour guide for the synagogue lived through it as a child. The community rebuilt after the Germans were defeated, and the most recent stage is the destruction of the Libyan Jewish community and emigration of some of its members to Rome. So Rome has kosher restaurants and a peculiarly Roman Jewish cuisine (likely no more healthy, from what I can tell, than many other Jewish cuisines). We were there for at least a couple of hours; it is very worth the trip.
And then – more wandering! We found our way to the Campo dei Fiori (another piazza) and hung out at a café on a side street to rehydrate. Then headed north in search of more piazzas, specifically the Piazza dei Popolo. Big Piazza, very spectacular on postcards, but filled at the time with the celebration of the anniversary of the Police. Not the most charming celebration, I must say. We sat next to a fountain and looked at an obelisk. There are lots of obelisks in Rome. I knew the French and the Brits liked to rip off obelisks from the Egyptians and bring them back to their capitals, but the Romans have been at this for a LOT longer. Most of the obelisks have crosses on them now; a lot are original Egyptian but some are more recent. Popes, apparently, especially liked obelisks; I leave the psychological speculation to others. This one dates from the 13th century BCE and was brought from Heliopolis by Augustus. As I said, the Romans have been at this for a while.
Then it started to drizzle, so we needed to get inside. We shopped for postcards under a cloister (or whatever that kind of space is called in a secular building) until the church across the street, Santa Maria del Popolo, opened after its Sunday afternoon break. Nice church, a couple of fairly spectacular Caravaggios. My goal was to keep wandering north and eventually get to the National Museum of Etruscan Art, which is in the Villa Borghese park and was open until 7:30, which seemed a good time to go looking for dinner. (We had skipped lunch because of the big breakfast). But that stretch was not a great walk and it started raining harder and it was sort of miserable until we finally, wet and wasted, got into the museum.
I’ve seen some Etruscan art at the Met and other museums and thought, “this is amazing, I need to see more!” And it is quite striking, but I have now seen enough. They’ve got enough in Rome. One of the best pieces I had probably seen before, because it had been returned from the Met after long negotiations, which presumably means the Italians lending some other stuff to the Met and agreeing not to arrest the Met director, whomever s/he may be, the next time s/he sets foot in Italy. The provenance of many such treasures is contested…
At this point the weather was a downpour, which rather reduced our interest in exploring. The nice lady at the gift shop called a cab, we got back to the hotel, dried off, and ate dinner there. Then Abby spent most of the evening intensely writing something without telling us what it was; I half-vegged with Sydelle watching a bad American movie in Italian, and did a bit of work on my talk for Tuesday. We knew Monday would be a big day: the Vatican.
“First you get down on your knees,
Fiddle with your rosaries,
Bow your head with great respect and-
Genuflect, genuflect, genuflect!”
Couldn’t help thinking about this. Sorry. And did you know there were palm trees near the Vatican? I certainly didn’t. In the Piazza del Risorgimento, not in St. Peter’s. Still, palm trees to me mean Margaritaville, not deep catholic devotion. Though I guess part of the point of The Church is, it can be anywhere. And just about is.
We walked down the hill from our hotel and took a tram to Piazza del Risorgimento. Crowded. This was a theme. Found the line. It stretched at least a hundred yards from the entrance to the Vatican Museum. But it only took about half an hour to get in. Then it seemed the only way to get a map was to get an audio guide, so I waited a while in that line. Turned out the map was not so helpful because most of the rooms are in sequence with no alternate routes, and it was so crowded we could not exactly move on ahead. Lots and lots of old Roman statuary though my favorite work from that era was some mosaics on a floor, transferred from some villa. The Popes were into preserving and recycling ancient Roman stuff around the time St. Peter’s was built, and in the following centuries as the museum was created. Of the paintings, my favorite section was the Raphael room. The guy was the Renoir of his time: everything had to be pretty. Even the people in his battle scenes had to be pretty. Not much in the way of blood. Very different from Titian and Caravaggio! Eventually we were directed down and around and through an entire section of modernish art (some really good stuff actually, including a little Chagall and Ben Shahn, but hardly anyone stopped to look) in order to get to the Sistine Chapel.
I hadn’t understood what this would be like. You see the famous God and Adam picture and I thought it would be sort of the central panel with other, smaller panels around it. Instead, it’s in the middle of the ceiling but the chapel is more of a rectangle and it’s just one of a whole bunch of panels in a row. The whole place is overwhelming; one could look at it for hours; except for the small problems that (a) the ceiling is too high up to see much without binoculars; (b) in order to look for enough time one would end up getting a sore neck; and (c) the place was a mosh pit. Actually the best way to see stuff would have been to be passed over peoples’ heads, on our backs.
Bottom line: the Vatican Museum is now my vision of purgatory. It feels like hell but you can see bits of heaven. I can’t recommend it, but I guess I can say I’ve been there. And maybe there is a time when it’s less crowded, which could be really nice.
Exhausted and a bit irritated, we skipped the bookshops that lined our way to the exit and escaped the complex, looking for some lunch. Had pizza at a newer-looking place. Tasty enough; they tried to charge us for four pizzas instead of three, though. Great vanilla milkshake for Abby. Suitably refreshed, we were on to the next line: St. Peter’s!
This was pretty long but no cashiers at the end so moved more quickly. The square itself is more of a circle, with magnificent columns and another obelisk. Just before we got in there was a spectacular thunderclap and lightning bolt; Abby and Sydelle didn’t get to see the bolt but it will stick in my memory – zapping down beyond the exit from the square, with the obelisk in the foreground. Fortunately we were already under the porch at the entrance. If something that large can be a porch.
The Basilica di San Pietro is the most magnificent building I have ever seen in my life. One would think it would be too much – all that marble and statuary and decoration everywhere. But it is so huge that the excess is almost in proportion. We just walked around in awe. It WAS a bit strange to see that they have decided to bury modern Popes, or at least John XXIII and John Paul II, with glass sarcophagi and what look like wax figures (the captions said the popes’ actual remains were in urns, but I didn’t see, or didn’t understand, explanations of the figures). But some of the statues… our favorites were the massive monument to the left of the choir and, above all, the Pieta. The Pieta is wonderful in part just on its own but also in contrast to all the other monuments which overwhelmingly are about glorifying someone, while the Pieta is about a mother and her son and unbearable sorrow.
Looking at this incredible building, we couldn’t help thinking back to Chartres. At Chartres, Abby said, she felt like praying even though she wasn’t Christian. And that’s about right: Chartres lifts you to the heaven. It is spiritual in a way that St. Peter’s is not. Chartres makes you think of God, whatever your version of the most high may be. St. Peter’s is a spectacle of the works of man. It makes you think, “oh my lord, somebody did this?” And it was worth the misery of the museum.
It was around 4 pm when we left and we partly wanted to wander but we realized that what we really, really wanted to do was watch a sort-of-mindless movie, in English. I thought it would be really cool to see Pirates of the Caribbean IV and see what an Italian movie theatre was like. But had no idea where to look. And did want to find a place to sit. In the course of searching for a café (not quite as easy as Paris) we found a place where I thought they might speak English (I forget why). We found someone who spoke French, and Abby asked him where we might find a cinema. A big one was ten minutes away, so we trudged on. No luck. We were told that all the films were in Italian, because we were in Italy. Sigh. It was raining again and we were getting soaked, so we finally found a cab, after some failures to figure out the buses, and went back to Piazza di Spagna in search of an English-language bookstore that we had read about. I figured they would know about cinemas. They did, but told us there was only one left in Rome and it was showing Tree of Life. Not my idea of a relaxing experience. Ah well. So we checked out a couple of famous nearby cafes. One was horribly overpriced; the other was the former workshop of the Canova family of sculptors so had lots of interesting statues and good drinks and cookies too. Then we window-shopped a while, before going back to the hotel, dining there, and collapsing.
I hadn’t done a great job of getting from place to place without exhausting ourselves, but the next morning I really screwed up. Abby and Sydelle were leaving on a 3:15 flight. So I checked about getting a taxi. When asked which airport, I said the wrong one – the main airport, Da Vinci. I could swear I’d checked a couple of times and for some wrong reason had remembered it was that one. But it wasn’t. Anyway, we were being lazy instead of trying to get in one last burst of sightseeing. At 11 the front desk alled to tell us the taxi was already here because there was a major accident and the driver said it could take a long time. So off they went – only to discover, when they finally got there, that it was the wrong airport. Sydelle ended up having to pay just as much for a second taxi ride, with all the hassles and frustration involved. And naturally assumed that the driver had taken them to the wrong place, not imagining that I had given the wrong instructions. Really, really dumb on my part. I should at least have looked at the ticket instead. My brain is failing… too many things of this sort have been happening.
I was unaware of all this, and had headed off to do more sightseeing. I went to the Capitoline Museum complex, which is quite awesome. Better ancient Rome stuff than the Vatican, including the magnificent Marcus Aurelius equestrian statue (copy in the courtyard; the real thing in a spectacular atrium). Some pretty good paintings too, though a couple of very famous ones were out on loan. And no crowds! Much more like heaven. The museum was at the top of the forum and it looked like I could get in to wander. But once again I couldn’t figure out how. So I gave up and walked north to the Piazza di Spagna again with a bizarre objective: I had heard that the world’s most spectacular McDonalds was there. There were various signs for it but it took a while to find. It wasn’t quite spectacular but it did fit into Rome nicely: hard to find, long corridors and lots of stairs. Had a cheap lunch, tried out the Metro (nice cars, creepy station) to get back to the bus, and got back to the hotel with plenty of time to shower and change and relax a bit before going off to find where I would give my talk.
That was actually a great experience: small seminar, good discussants, chance to reconnect with Sergio, very nice dinner after. Walked back with Sergio (who lives nearby) and saw a crowded gelateria; checked it out and wished I’d found it while Sydelle and Abby were still in Rome.
Next morning I walked to the Museum of modern art, which was maybe 2 km away from the hotel, in the park. It was supposed to have a good café, and did. A latte and some chocolate cake for breakfast! Then I wandered into the museum, somehow avoiding the entrance and the fee. More good luck. Saw lots of interesting stuff, but a bunch of stairways were blocked off and I couldn’t figure out how to get to other stuff. I guess I could have asked at the front, but was worried they’d ask me how I got in. Anyway, I saw enough stuff, and it was a good change for my eyes.
After I got back to the hotel I got directions to the Quirinale Palace, supposedly the highest point in Rome. I figured I should see the view before leaving. Once again I couldn’t figure out where to get off a bus, and I was wandering with a very heavy backpack and a sport jacket. View was pretty good though mainly roofs. Found my way back to Termini station and the bus information person said she couldn’t tell me where the direct bus to Ciampino airport was because it wasn’t a Rome public transport bus. Somewhere in the station. Saw no sign of information there. So took her alternative suggestion and took a Metro to the end of the line where there was a bus to the airport. At that point, tired and sticky and fed up, I grabbed a taxi. Which was more expensive than I expected, so yet another wrong decision. Flight home was delayed an hour, but otherwise OK.
So… not as easy as other trips! Very pleasant hotel, but a hard city to navigate. Partly because there is so much to see, and it is all jumbled up, and lots of other people want to see it. Paris also can have lines like that, but I know Paris a bit now so at least don’t feel lost. And my French is terrible but at least I know a bit. And the Paris buses have announcements of each stop and maps of the route on the bus, while the Metro goes almost anywhere. Of course it’s hard to build subways in Rome because anywhere they dig they run into an artifact.
But I could go back and sit in the Piazza Navona some more. Check out a few more statues… and someday get into the Forum. Also for more gelato and a more careful study of roman cuisine… and we didn’t really do late-night Rome… and maybe next time I’ll find a decent bus map…
