Rome wasn't built in a day, but we toured most of it in about 6 hours.
Which makes me very grateful that it wasn't our primary destination, but a touristic splurge while staying in the quiet, quaint, peaceful city/town of Orvietto. Rome is anything but quiet, quaint, and peaceful, it is quite similar to any other large city, busy with traffic and pedestrians, minus the billboard-sized TV screens and plethora of neon lights. What is lacked in seizure-inducing visual mayhem is made up for in People Who Have Never Been There Before that wander aimlessly, or rather, with aim but with inadequate navigational preparation, which results in frequent pointing, questionable glances around corners, swift panoramic scans for signage (I am, in fact, describing my own behavior as well), and when all else fails, blindly trusting the Herd (gazelle, buffalo, ants, take your pick) to lead from one watering hole to the next and away from the predatorial street vendors that some of the weaker members fall victim to. The city is in fact a tourist mecca much like Disney or six flags; each attraction having a long admittance line, and in place of an overhead entrance payment you pay for each individual attraction (like your local fair that sells fried dough) and trudge through long stretches of city between each point of interest. At night I imagine the flashes of cameras would have sufficed to guide us through the sites and sights, but we had a highly qualified Commander in Chief (sister Sarah) to route and reroute the itinerants: we did not require the translating/tour-guiding services of Jenna since the city of Rome had long ago grimly resigned itself to an octi-lingual identity, and Jenna, being Romed out after her semester in the country, had no interest in roaming with us. With an amused smirk the city watches swarms of Americans look to the British flag for directions and descriptions in a familiar language, especially as we near the national Holiday that celebrates our renunciation of any and all reliance upon the English.
With Sarah's militant programming, mom's FO!!OLP?!ROOF IN!??TUI?TIO!N and my hum-drum bumble-dee-gum (...) we found our way to the coliseum, pantheon, Trevi fountain, tomb of the unknown soldier (aka Wedding Cake), and probably best of all, the sight of many-a-Catholic pilgrimage, St. Peter's Basilica next to the Vatican. The Cathedral was also a highlight due to our meeting Doug and Olivia, a lovely newlywed couple who had been honeymooning in Rome for the past few days and had just exited the Vatican, which was closed for the rest of the day. I was not too disheartened to not make the Vatican this round, among other things (Sarah just reminded me of aqua-ducts and baths) for I am 24 and am on my second trip to Europe (both have been centered around a study-abroad program, the best justification for hopping the pond I can find recently seconded by visiting family), and as transportation becomes easier I imagine other opportunities to be a tourist will arise.
The Basilica contained more gold than I had ever seen before (not a clear measurement term, I know), and if I had seen more, it was certainly not so ornate. The craftsmanship that was put into this structure: sculptures, paintings, arrangements of stone in the floor, arched doorways, marble pillars, glittering designs across the entire ceiling, multiple windowed domes that surrounded the mother dome, a 7-story-high bronze altar, the entire visual history of Christianity as documented by the Catholic Church present in one building, with far more than the human eye, let alone conscience, can take it. Despite the nasty politics that mar the church's history and the questionable siphoning of funds for grandiose architecture that could have done more good elsewhere, the competition to build bigger churches succeeded in at least one area - making one feel small, regardless of one's relationship to God. Looking at the moon can incur similar feelings of smallness and humility, but the church contains a symbolism, an intention to teach and represent, and hopefully a goal to point to something greater than itself or its engineers. It is a great responsibility to represent the world's dominant religion (don't quote me on that), and even if the ornate-ness may to some feel distant, the theology impersonal, the hierarchy silly, and the finances self-aggrandizing, I am sure entering the church in Rome has caused many to question their beliefs, if only for a moment. Whether Christine doctrine is imbibed at that moment is of no concern, of mine, for in the wrong hands it does a great disservice to the world, but no more than self-assured tribalism in all its forms. Asking existential questions is a valuable act it itself, and beyond that I think Christ and Christianity have brought to the world good ethical teaching, the encouragement of contemplation, strong communities, beautiful poetry, unity of spirit, faith, hope, love, and of course, music.
Perhaps if I didn't have Orvietto to return to I would have appreciated Rome more, but I think there is a deep human need to kick back and relax, specifically in a European cafe on a cobblestoned street surrounded by Few People, and maybe even Old Things.
6. Old Things
It is probably redundant at this point to reflect on the oldness of things, as I have already discussed the churches and other things. The Orvietan duomo is rather large, almost intimidating given its black-and-white-striped exterior that brings to mind jail criminals in old cartoons, but the alabaster windows (initially mom and I thought they were petrified wood) were a refreshing change from my repeated frustration at being unable to identify the figures in the stained-glass windows of other cathedrals.
Rome, Milan, and Florence are hybrids of antiquity and semi-modern architecture that bears the imprint of the surrounding history; walking down the streets of Orvieto I can't help but wonder: what is holding this place together? The city resides on a hilltop and is surrounded by aging and mossed walls; tiled rooftops that have weathered many storms, houses that never intended to have intricate indoor plumbing, brick ledges in intermediate stages of deterioration; time's layer of imperfection, perfectly and evenly distributed, old things that also have the character and authenticity of oldness, unlike the many sites of interest that are continually restored, the side streets are the true time warp; one might easily cross paths with a 12th-century tavern keeper who hasn't bathed once in his life.
Mendelssohn's wedding theme just started trumpeting from the Duomo organ; we were enjoying the finest eat-out-meal thus far consisting of caprese salads, pasta, and grilled chicken. A wedding was taking place during our meal, and from our table outside in the square I was able to hear the upper mixtures through a glass side-door to the church, installed not for its oldness but as a handicapped entrance. I'm glad I caught the great ritard at the end' even from outside the reverberation lingers, soaring from one end of the nave to the other after the fingers are lifted from the manual.
During Jenna's your of the town (the word "city" reminds me too much of bustling Rome) we stopped in on various piazzas and villas, and peeked in on a monastery where she had stayed for the semester. I'm starting to take things for granted, or at least to see them as opportunities to expose myself to "interesting historical facts" that I won't remember specifically but will hopefully retain generally as things to refer to when the specifics are necessary. Old Things are still inanimate objects that can't speak of themselves, though with minimal introduction they encourage reflection, which is never a bad thing. It is the story of people, and after reading, listening to that story, one feels connected to the people and events that transpired, the progress made that has advanced certain things, ideas, philosophy, technology, medicine. And yet we see how some things never change' customs and careers have evolved but not their purpose. Lifestyles have become more varied, global, time-conscious, but start and end the same, are still oriented towards life, liberty and happiness, and different degrees of knowledge, success, romance, friendship, service, excellence, pleasure. Many of these attributes are maintained in structures and elements of culture that have stood the test of time, and amazingly so; I can't fathom how the pantheon was erected save for images filled with excess scaffolding and hordes of manual laborers. There might even be a mystical element that draws us; how often are plots in movies directed by ancient prophecies or findings? We intuitively know our present is connected to our past, some take it further and state it is guided by our past, termed fate or Providence. What has been preserved also blurs the details of our messy past, similar to how time can smooth out conflicts from yesterday or last week' yet the preservation of a church can ennoble the human cause and inspire patient craftsmanship to achieve a personal monument, or to stretch the soul and cause a reorienting of priorities.
Having just walked through the town I saw arched doorways, round handles on doors, great big stones for walls, structures built into the rock instead of on or next to it. History doesn't always provide answers but nonetheless asks questions: how were things done before our time? Why? What are the benefits of change? What is sacrificed?
7. Fast Food
A term not often used here in reference to various convenient eateries, especially food "to go" as we call it, since people here are generally proud of the fact that Slow Food is a cultural staple, for two reasons as I can gather: it is slow, and it is food, or rather, really good food, and not glorified pig slop that has been recolored, packaged mass-produced, branded, and franchised. There is the occasional BK or McDonalds, but if you've had your fill of those, there are kebap stands that contain as much meat and sometimes more than advertised; there are pizzerias and sandwich shops with the same frequency as American chains, but all with slightly different offerings. Sure there is the benefit and convenience of knowing what to expect and having those expectations fulfilled; a 6-piece nugget is pretty much the same wherever you go. And while I don't mean to blindly exonerate the food distribution system of Europe, ingredients seem to be produced more locally as a rule, taste fresher, probably cost more, but that is no problem for me. Lack of consistency, which Sarah was observing, can be a problem if you don't know the sweet spots; the tuna sandwich I had in Rome had tuna around the edge as a garnish for the tomato, lettuce, and roll, but it is my own fault for buying food within a block of Trevi fountain.
But it is all an extension of the Slow Food mentality I think: Coffee is an event, Jenna says, and the drink is rather small compared to the huge caffeinated drinks from Starbucks. You sip your small espresso at the coffee bar from a *gasp* ceramic cup and continue on your way when you *gasp* finish. Hence the existence of the
8. Coffee bar
Which I haven't experienced first-hand but have watched as people publicly sip their drink with defensive glances like watched vultures (actually I just saw one man exhibit the described behavior, but the image stuck). So far I have preferred the cafes where you can get a cheap drink and work for a few hours, or socialize, or gaze into the abyss...
Back to point 7, it seems a similar force of "variety" is at work in the plethora of gelaterias, every block contains one, or two, or three wherever there are shops, since they are often home-made, at least of a different brand, and small in size. One can easily have one and, with the sweet tooth activated, go for seconds up the street. You couldn't do this in the US without developing a lactose intolerance, where a small ice cream has grown to a quarter-gallon since no one ever orders anything larger.
What I like about Orvieto - its intimacy, variety, quietness, can also be its downfall. We were just joking about Belle from Beauty and the Beast wanting "much more than this provincial life," and the same can go for any small town. The gossip, the dirt on people, which isn't limited to small towns by any means, but can tend to play a larger role in the course of each day's events, simply because there is much less to focus on. There is also the opportunity to develop close relationships wtih good people, which is helped by the slower pace of life. A good place to retire, but not to learn about the world and explore its offerings; raising kids would be questionable.
Sitting here and writing whatever meanders into my mind could be detrimental for my return to school. Seeign the same person open and close shop every day can be nice from a distance, but the other side of the coin is that they may not really enjoy what they do, and wish they could be doing something else...
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