Wednesday, September 3, 2008

My day starts off pretty rough. We’re meeting for class at two in Piazza Farnese, so I decide to take the morning to wander around the city. I’m not feeling well, but refuse to miss a day of sight-seeing, so I just keep on marching. I duck into a church that appears to be open to the public. It’s one of the most important Jesuit churches in the world, little did I know. It’s absolutely beautiful, but I feel very out of place, I know nothing about the Jesuit faith and have no idea what a lot of the art and décor in the church is about. For instance, there are what appear to be silver ornaments in the shape of the sacred heart hung everywhere in the church. Why would anyone need so many silver sacred hearts? I still don’t know. As I wander around I notice that something isn’t quite right with the cupola. As I walk across the church floor beneath it I realize that it’s not a cupola at all, but a shallow dome painted in forced perspective to appear to people in the pews as if it were this towering and grand cupola! I’m tickled to discover this and try to take some good photos of it—my dad will appreciate this trick since it’s one commonly used in building train sets.

I’m really not feeling well after I leave the church and I walk to Campo de’ Fiori to see if I can go puke in the restroom at the UW Rome Center. I hike up four flights of stairs and buzz the office… no one will let me in. I sit on the steps and wait for the dizziness to pass and then try buzzing again. No one lets me in. I set out on a mission to find Diet Coke at any cost. Well, here in Europe it’s Coca-Light, which is better than Diet Coke. It definitely helps my stomach and I feel more like I can make it through the day. I meet a few of the girls at the Bruno statue in the middle of Campo de’ Fiori to go get pizza at “My Friend.” Carin leads the way and we all stuff ourselves with huge chunks of spinach or potato pizza. It’s so good, I almost forget the awful heat… almost.

We meet with the rest of the group and set off for the Vatican. We cross the river by Castel d Sant’ Angelo, a onetime prison, then safe house for the pope, now a museum. As we come upon the wide via leading to St. Peter’s square, Giuseppe stops us so we can take in the view. Mussolini clear-cut this route, knocking down buildings and whatever stood in the way to build a road leading to the Vatican in an effort to connect the city to the church. I couldn’t help but think of standing at Drumheller fountain on UW campus and thinking of how the university holds a view easement, forever connecting the campus to Mt. Ranier. I don’t intend that comparison to carry any disrespect.

Tony suggests that we take a good look at St. Peter’s square, it has been designed so that when completely packed with people, no matter where a person stands they will always have a clear view of the pope. I’m not sure exactly how that’s supposed to work, it seems to me more like St. Peter’s square was designed like the drain in a public shower—everything curves into the center where the giant obelisk stands. St. Peter’s Basilica crowns the Piazza with the great curving arms of the magnificent colonnades embracing it from either side. While we snap away with our cameras, I can’t help myself and challenge a few of the girls to tell their most offensive Jesus jokes… which we do. Having gotten that out of our system we are now ready to buckle down for a little class-work. We sit on the stairs in the shade of one of the colonnades and work on our translations, hoping the line to enter the basilica will peter out (pun intended, or as Carin would say, “I’m punny”).

At about four we all book it across the square to get in line before the call for last-admittance. There are still lots of people waiting to enter, but the line is moving quickly. Rikki and I go in together, having a little laugh as we pass a family berating one of their kids for wearing inappropriate clothing. In order to enter the basilica you have to cover your knees, your shoulders, and your breasts (basically anything round). We pass through without trouble, but do get to see some people turned away for sinfully bearing their knobby knees or sunburned shoulders.

I have to say, St. Peter’s Basilica does not make my top five list. I mean, I don’t actually have a list of my favorite churches, not being someone who feels particularly at home or even all that welcome in churches. This one is massive and contains many beautiful things, but it seems daunting and impersonal to me. I can’t shake the feeling that someone was just trying a little too hard, instead of letting the beauty of one’s faith dictate how the church should come together. Perhaps that’s too romanticized of an idea for how to build a church…

The Vatican, and the Catholic Church as an entity and faith remain a little mysterious to me. Walking through the little alcoves dedicated to various saints I felt the same way I did when I toured the Mayan ruins in the Yucatan. I have only a very vague idea of what it represents, and no actual understanding of what any of it means. I was slightly relieved that I did understand the story behind the great altar in the center of the cross (St. Peter’s like many churches, sort of lies on a floor plan shaped like a cross). The story goes like this, according to me: Once upon a time some man discovered a tomb and the words “here lies Peter.” Having deduced from history that this was more or less in the vicinity of where Peter, disciple to Jesus, was crucified, this man concluded that the tomb must be that of St. Peter. The church was erected to encapsulate the resting place of Peter, considered to be the first Pope and most commonly identified as heaven’s bouncer.

There is a modest statue of St. Peter, placed just to the side of the altar over his tomb, where people come from all over the world to touch or kiss St. Peter’s feet. The right foot of the statue, which is most prominent, has been worn away from the hands of all of the pilgrims who have come to pay respect (or maybe just out of tradition) and have rubbed off a good quarter of the foot. Someone told me that the foot has been replaced once before…

I’m standing with some of the girls and Tony joins our group. I’m staring at this enormous statue of a saint, a woman running with what looks like a shawl in her hands. I’m not totally certain, but it looks like someone penciled in a face on the shawl… could there be graffiti in the Vatican? I ask the group, “Does anyone else see that face drawn on this gal’s shawl, or am I nuts?” Tony looks at me and says, “That’s the Veronica.” I have no idea what he’s talking about. Tony regales us with the story of Veronica, who ran to Christ’s side when he was crucified and wiped the sweat from his face, leaving the last portrait of Jesus (in sweat, albeit) on her shawl. This is not to be confused with the Turin Shroud (I asked). I’m still unclear on how this qualifies Veronica for sainthood, but perhaps I’ll wikipedia that later…

Once we’ve cleared the basilica, we collect again in the colonnade to go over the recitation of our poems in Spanish and Italian. We will be hosting a reading at the end of our seminar. Each group will read one sonnet and one poem in the original Spanish and Italian and then in our English translation. Because Tony and Giuseppe have invited our host families as well as some very important people in Rome, we must make sure that we don’t sound like idiots. That means practice, practice, practice!

After class dismisses, a few of us stick around. Carin has promised to lead us to San Crispino—the best gelato joint in Rome. Cortney, Carin, Isar, Courtney and I set off for the Trevi Fountain neighborhood. We pass the Trevi, without looking or stopping and book it for gelato. The San Crispino speciality is the honey gelato, which I try and determine is “interesting,” but not for me. I do get the chocolate meringue, which is exquisite. I can’t stay, I have to be home for dinner, so I take off for the bus.

When I get back we’re eating in the kitchen, crammed in the little space to enjoy pasta and gnocchi with clams, mozzarella, and tomato—it’s incredible! Tonight we’re going to see Kung-Fu Panda at the movie theater. Paola’s son, Davide, is going with us and the five of us pile into their teeny-tiny car. Davide, Alice, Jennifer, Dave, and me! Jennifer and I get Cipsters (pronounced Chipsters) and Fanta to enjoy during our movie. The entire flick is in Italian and I’m thrilled that I can understand almost all of it. Of course, it helps that it’s a Disney movie and written to ensure the comprehension by small children. I love it and can’t wait to see it in English, just to make sure I really got it all.

Then, home to bed!