Envoi

When I first heard about the Writing Rome travel seminar, I immediately knew it was something I had to do.  I was eager to immerse myself in the art, culture, and history of such a beautiful city, and document everything I experienced through blogging.  Learning about Rome this past semester only added to my excitement.  But on the morning of our flight from JFK to Rome, my stomach was in knots.  I had not considered the possibility that I might feel homesick or out of place in a city so far away.  The first couple of hours in our new home were somewhat unsettling; I didn’t know who I would befriend, how the time difference and limited internet would affect communicating with my family, or how long it would take to feel comfortable navigating the city on my own.   

After unpacking at St. John’s, I ended up getting lunch and going for a walk with Sarah Britenfeld, Sarah Donovan, and Elyssa.  I fell in love with Prati immediately—there were so many boutiques and coffee shops that I couldn’t wait to explore.  By the end of dinner on our first night in Rome, I had already begun to feel a sense of camaraderie with the group.  We went for a beautiful nighttime walking tour of the city, which included stops at the Pantheon, Piazza Navona, and the Spanish Steps. I don’t remember if my anxieties disappeared with my first taste of Geolitti’s caramel-flavored gelato or at the first glimpse of the Fountain of the Four Rivers just after sunset, but I knew without a doubt that I was going to love it here.  

My days in Rome took on a comfortable and blissful routine, usually beginning with a cappuccino from Gourmet, a coffee shop near St. John’s, and culminating with a breathtaking view or a visit to a site that photographs cannot do justice to.  Emily, Elyssa, and I were determined to find all the city’s best stops, and began to plan our days around where we would go to have the best cup of coffee in the city (Sant’Eustachio’s) or the best carbonara (Ristorante Al Moro).  As for the best view of the city, I don’t even know how to go about picking a favorite.  The view from the top of the Monument to Victorio Emanuel was unmatched until I climbed to the top of the Palatine Hill and looked out over the remains of the Imperial Forum.  However, I don’t know if there was a more scenic view than that from the Orange Grove next to the Basilica San Clemente.

I believe that my time in Rome has helped me to grow as a citizen of the world.  Researching an ancient site in the city and presenting the knowledge I acquired about it on-location was an incredible and truly unique experience.  I felt a connection to the Piazza Navona after spending the semester researching it, and went back several times after my presentation for lunch and shopping.  Researching Piazza Navona also allowed me to make connections between my own site and others throughout the city.  I was excited whenever I encountered a sculpture by Bernini in the Villa Borghese Museum after learning about his contributions to the fountains of the Piazza Navona.  I felt pleased when I noticed the symbol of Pope Innocent X, who was the driving force behind the Piazza’s redesign in the 17^th century, in various churches and basilicas that we visited.  Taking a class about Rome granted me the ability to understand the significance behind the city’s aesthetics, and allowed me to appreciate what I saw on a deeper level. 

I also enjoyed my time in Rome because it pushed me out of my comfort zone in multiple ways.  I had been outside of the country multiple times before this trip, but never without close friends or my family.  Though I did not have any close friends in the class before Writing Rome began, I am confident that I have established friendships during the last two and a half weeks that I will cherish for a long time.  Though I have never been fond of public speaking, giving my on-site presentation on something that I spent a great deal of time researching gave me a sense of accomplishment, and I was touched by the encouraging words I received from my friends and mentors following it.

This trip was also valuable because it helped me to grow as a writer.  I often found myself enjoying the writing assignments because they required me to sit down for a few moments and think about things that I may have otherwise overlooked.  Eventually I found that I was observing the places we visited more closely than I had been previously even without any writing assignments in mind.  I am so glad to have had the opportunity to practice travel writing on this trip; snapping a photograph is useful in remembering something you saw in a particular moment, but writing allows you to remember how you felt about it.  I am happy to say that I now feel connected to the travel writings we have read on a much more personal level.  I am leaving Rome with a newfound appreciation for the city that could not have been achieved had I not recorded my experiences with words.

The Church of the Gesu

On June 1^st, I went on an excursion to the Church of the Gesu with Steven and Elyssa.  The three of us sprinted to catch the 30 bus, and hopped off near the Monument to Victorio Emanuel.  We were a little confused as to where the entrance to the church was and ended up walking in a circle, but our phone apps prevented us from being lost for too long. 

            The first thing I noticed about the Church was how ornately decorated it was.  Having done quite a bit of research on Bernini for my presentation on the Piazza Navona, I immediately recognized that the church takes on a distinct Baroque style.  The purpose of Baroque art is to create a sense of grandeur and exuberance, and this church is no exception.  The black and gold color scheme, chandeliers, and dramatic paintings and sculptures are clearly intended to awe and impress all who enter.  I would probably find the décor of the Church to be somewhat gaudy and over-the-top if I had seen it in a photograph.  In person however, I cannot help but marvel at it.

            The ceiling of the church is utterly striking.   Painted to look three-dimensional, the figures almost appear to emerge directly from the framework.  There is a clear sense of movement to the art; the outstretched arms and dramatic positions of the figures make them appear to be in motion.  Looking at it made me feel as though I had just encountered a freeze-frame of an action-packed movie.  The sculptures that adorn the church create a similar feeling of movement.  As I stared at the ceiling, I often found myself unsure of whether I was looking at something that had been painted or sculpted.  There is also a mirror located towards the back of the church that is angled in a way that allows viewers to take in all the glorious details of the paintings without having to strain their necks.   

            The altar of the church also fascinated me.  Instead of a crucifix, there is a painting of Christ as a newborn child.  A cross that bares the name “Jesus” is in the background surrounded by angels.  The fact that Jesus is portrayed as a newborn in this scene, rather than hanging from the cross on which he died, is clearly a reference to the miracle of his resurrection.  It alludes to the notion that Jesus was reborn when he gave up his life for the sins of mankind.  I also noticed that there is a separate alcove to the left of the church that features a very life-like sculpture of Jesus on the cross.  The fact that Jesus’ crucifixion is portrayed in a darker, more secluded section of the church almost makes it seem as though those who designed the church did not want to remember Jesus in this way.  Perhaps they wanted to remember him as he is depicted in the painting above the altar, as one who lives forever.   

Voyeur: Ostia Antica

In a shady grove nestled among the ruins of Ostia Antica, a group of children stand in a circle, eagerly anticipating the game they are about to play.  Donned in matching blue button-downs, red scarves, green baseball hats with yellow embroidering, they fidget and tease each other as they await instruction.  Their counselors—two men dressed in makeshift gladiator outfits, are doing their best to keep the children focused on the task at hand.

            The children’s parents signed them up for a summer camp on the basis that it would be “educational”.  Today, they have been brought on a field trip to Ostia Antica to learn about what life was like during the city’s prime.  It had seemed like a good idea to the instructors to dress up as fierce warriors in order to appeal to the children’s imaginations; in the present moment, however, they could think of a million things they would rather do than chase after a bunch of screaming kids while wearing cut-up cardboard boxes.  

            One gladiator moves around the outside of the circle, tapping the children’s heads with the words, “Uno, due, tre!  Uno, due, tre!”  When he has finished assigning them numbers, he calls out to the group.  The children scatter, trying to find those who have been assigned the same number.  Once they have broken into three groups, they begin their game.  Despite careful observation, I could not tell what the point of this game was, or how it was meant to teach the children anything about gladiators.  After a few minutes of moving about their groups in a disorganized fashion, the game appeared to disband.  The gladiators handed out stickers to the children, who smiled and stuck them onto the front of their blue-button downs and green baseball caps.   

The Villa Gulia and the Etruscan Museum

On the afternoon following a visit to the Protestant Cemetery, I, along with Mark, Elyssa, Sarah Donovan, Damaris, and Emily Sater accompanied Sarah Britenfeld on a solo excursion to the Villa Guilia.  After taking a metro to the Piazza del Popollo and walking to what appeared to be the outskirts of the city, we arrived at the spectacular Villa.  I must say I was unexpectedly pleased to encounter such a beautiful and serene site based off our location in the city.  My first impression of the Villa Guilia was that it is extremely well-preserved.  Unlike many of the ancient places that we have encountered during our stay in Rome, the villa’s architecture remains almost entirely intact.  Built by Pope Julius III in the mid-1500s and now home to the Museo Nazionale Etrusco, the Villa is characterized by its sweeping green lawns, well-maintained gardens, and architecture that emphasizes a sense of symmetry and order.

 

Though our primary purpose in seeing the Villa Guilia was to tour the collection of Etruscan museum and see the artifacts that it houses, I could not stop myself from wandering the grounds of estate for a long time.  Every hedge, tree, and flower in the gardens surrounding the building seemed to be perfectly placed as part of some beautifully symmetrical decorating scheme.  I sat down on a bench near the temple and spent some time just listening to the sound of birds singing, looking at the roses that created splashes of color in the otherwise green garden, and taking in the gorgeous day.  I felt so at peace that I had to resist the urge to stretch out on my bench and take a nap in the sun.  As I began to write the thoughts that flooded my head into my journal, I could not get the idea out of my head that the Villa Guilia must have been designed to create a space where one might find peace of mind.  I continued wandering the grounds and found some interesting sculptures and mosaics behind the Villa.  Even the statues, lounging on their stone pedestals in a very relaxed fashion, seemed at peace, and emphasized the sense of serenity I felt from seeing the temple and the beautifully laid out gardens. I wish I could say that I enjoyed the Etruscan art exhibit as much as I enjoyed meandering through the grounds of the Villa, but I found the museum—although fascinating—to be somewhat cold and uninviting after spending so much time in the gardens. 

The first exhibit I saw upon entering the museum was the “Sarcofogo delgi Spousi”—a beautiful terracotta sarcophagus that features a man and woman in a warm embrace.  Other items in the museum included intricately painted vases, ancient tools and eating utensils, and other terracotta pieces.  Out of all the artifacts in the museum, I found myself drawn to the displays of various kind of jewelry that would have been worn by Etruscan women in the 8^th century.  The plaque next to these displays noted that these women were buried with the bobbles that adorned their clothes and bodies, just as men were buried with their swords and other forms of weaponry.  I believe I was drawn to this particular part of the exhibit because seeing something that these women actually wore seemed far more personal than seeing a bowl they may have eaten from or a water vase they might have drank from.  I felt connected to these artifacts because they made me think about the kinds of personal items that will define my time on earth.