A Week in Rome

MONDAY, March 12, 1995

From Milan, I headed south again to Rome. In the aftermath of the Rome job fiasco, I got an invitation to stay for a week with Paula, a woman who I'd met briefly at the European Space Agency. It was a strange offer that I decided to accept. I'd bought some Swiss chocolates for her in Zurich and picked up some flowers on the way from the train station. Really a strange feeling, going to spend a week with someone I'd only met for a minute. It turned out to be great - we became friends, chatting freely, and I was popular with her 8 year old son, Joe, who I believe was the motivation behind my invitation. We played with wooden blocks together, which was great fun for both of us. Before the computer, before Legos, blocks were my favorite. Paula was incredibly hospitable and generous, even feeding me breakfast and dinner. Her French cooking was a welcome change.

They are an interesting family. She's American. Her husband, Gilbert, is French. Joe is a dual citizen. They all speak English, French, and Italian. Paula and Gilbert also speak an African language - they met while working in the Peace Corps in Africa and then studied together in Paris. He works for the UN and has been to a zillion interesting places and has great stories. He just returned from six weeks in India. Wow.

Yesterday, Paula organized a day trip to Ostia Antica, which was beautiful. This once thriving Roman port city is now a mile from the coast because the Tiber silted in. The ruins are beautiful. Faded mosaics indicating what used to be sold mark the floors of the merchant shops. The place feels like a giant park with grass and trees everywhere along with the ruins of Roman apartment buildings, theaters, shops, and churches. It's hard to imagine what it must have been like - lead pipes and all. Looking at all the statues around the city and in the museum, Paula filled me in on their significance - most of which I couldn't really catch because she assumed I had knowledge of GreekRRoman history and mythology - oh if only I'd done my reading in high school. One of Joe's friends joined us for the day. The friend's father, who insisted on driving us (although public transit would've been faster), lived in Warsaw from 1976 - 1980 and naturally, speaks Polish! Too bad I didn't really get a chance to talk with him. The car ride was hectic and his English wasn't very good.

Paula, who's working like I would have, (an American consultant without proper papers) gave me some of her takes on Italian culture:

* Romans insist on driving; they think using public transit is like being homeless.

* If you do manage to receive a tax refund check, it is uncashable.

* The telephone company hand delivers its bills because it can't trust the post.

* People don't use checks - and certainly don't mail them.

* 10% of the "work force" has "do-nothing" government jobs.

* The Italians are proud that life goes on even through corruption and anarchy.

* Socialist medicine - everyone pays for it, no one uses it.

* The further south you go - the worse it gets. (oh, boy, Sicily, here I come.)

She told me that they were burgled the day after they moved in, but this is normal - the crooks had to see what they had. In general, anarchy rules. Everyone's tolerant - proud that they can go on living. That's just the way it is. I don't get it - if people would simply stop tolerating, it would have to change. I don't get it. But hey, at least I understand baseball.

People may need to make clarifications about their occupations:

"I'm not unemployed, I'm a public doctor..."


WEDNESDAY, March 15, 1995.

Monday morning my mission was key cutting. Paula sent me to a hardware store near the Pantheon; I needed to go to a special shop because the key has such a long stem. I had to leave the key and come back in two hours - this made me nervous - leaving Paula's key with some Italians with only my name and my trust in a Roman to retrieve it. I bought Let's Go Europe and pondered where to go next while sitting in the Pantheon, waiting for the key to be done. I decided that I wanted to go to Greece. I got the keys back - wow! This key and a credit card to pick the lock to get out of the elevator are all that I need to get into her apartment.

Monday night, I met my friend Jen for a movie in the Trastevere. I had a bit of trouble getting there, arriving 20 minutes late, having narrowly avoided being flattened by various vehicles about seven times. We had some amazing pistachio gelato (which now I can't get enough of - better than craving cheeseburgers) before seeing "Lisbon Story," which I'd recommend- mostly English with some Portuguese (and all with Italian subtitles); all in all a fun language experience. Made me start thinking that although I'm still far from fluent in anything but English, I've grown less intimidated by foreign languages.

Tuesday I went to the Jewish Ghetto which I didn't find particularly interesting or particularly Jewish. There aren't many Jews left in Rome. Then to the synagogue and its museum. I had my bag searched and was buzzed in. The English tour of the museum included interesting explanations about the Torah, Torah dressings, and Hanukkah given to me and a Swedish couple. The guide assumed none of us were Jewish and I didn't correct her (largely because I felt embarrassed by my ignorance about much of what she was saying). Then another woman took us into the Synagogue which was beautiful and ornate in that Rome sort of way - particularly interesting because synagogues tend to be rather plain. Even once inside and searched, we had to be further "buzzed" into the Synagogue - so unlike the churches where you can just walk in. So sad - the fear - and the good reasons behind it.

After the synagogue I walked past the Temple di Vesta, the Circo Massimo (big whoop!) and down the Via di Porta S. Sebastiano through the port onto the Via Appia Antica - a really old road. En route, I talked a bit with an Australian guy going around Europe like I am; it's amazing how many people are doing what I'm doing. After waiting quite a while with other confused tourists, we caught the 215 bus to the Catacombe di S. Calisto. It was impressive and made me think about role playing games and how I never imagined that dungeons could really exist. Now, I'm a believer.

Today my first stop was the Vatican Museum. I was first met by the huge crowd gathering for the Pope's Wednesday morning speech (who knew?) and I didn't realize that the museum entrance was a few blocks away. I asked the guard "Posso andare al museo oggi?" (Can I go to the museum today?) I'm so proud. And he pointed me in the right direction. Although it was enormously crowded, the museum was quite impressive - astonishing artwork everywhere - especially the ceiling - even if I didn't care for most of the subject matter. One hall had a collection of nifty old painted maps. Of course, I saw the Sistine Chapel - although I'm not sure why it's the most special of all. The museum grounds offered great views of St. Peter's across the Vatican gardens.

After the Vatican Museum, I visited the Castello St. Angelo (where the Pope would hide when the Vatican was being attacked) - also cool and filled with art work - although somewhat pale in comparison. Then I wandered across the river in Michele's and my February footsteps. Visited Piazza Novana, the Pantheon (again), the Trevi fountain (again), then walked to Piazza Quirinale. By the time I'd reached the Pantheon my legs were tired and I was really hungry - had a tasty pizza then some gelato (good nocciola, but awful pistachio, boo, hoo) - before pressing on. Finally, I ended up back at the Spanish Steps (I seem to like ending up there) where I had a fun chat about travelling and life with a couple my age from outside Seattle. Finally, it got cold and I caught the bus "home."

THURSDAY, March 16, 1995.

I really felt bummed out today. Existential despair - why bother living? I wandered in this desperate state through the Roman Colosseum. What did the Romans bother for? Their whole civilization is in ruins - although I suppose they left their significant mark on the world. Perhaps that's the point - to leave one's mark, hopefully a positive one? Or should one be more concerned with enjoying oneself? Oh, of course, it has to be difficult - balance is key. I also explored the Forum ruins - in the rain and humidity - how foreign after California. Then to the Spanish Steps to hang for the afternoon. I read about Michael Jordan leaving baseball and teasing the world - will he return to the Bulls?

I'm feeling overdosed on Rome.

I hope Greece is fun.

I leave on Saturday.


SUNDAY, March 19, 1995.

On Friday, Jen and I left Rome and headed to Subiaco to see the monasteries. The bus ride was nauseating and destroyed my equilibrium but the trip was well worthwhile. It was a beautiful day - blue sky, warm sun, and the air in Subiaco was refreshing after breathing a week's worth of leaded exhaust. We hiked up the hill to the Monastery St. Bennedetto. The view and the mountains around were somehow reminiscent of Yosemite. The monastery itself is carved into the mountain. There are beautiful wall paintings as you descend through its rooms including an eerie, attention grabbing skeleton on horseback. The monk that greeted us was very eager to put his arm around Jen and pinch her cheek, though he did give us a free guidebook. In the evening, Jen and I had a "special" dessert that she knew about near the Pantheon - slushy, frozen coffee mixed with whipped cream. It reminded me of the frozen hot chocolate at Serendipity III (if you've ever been there in NY or Boston).





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