Hi

I just wanted to mention that I am at a cafe right now, eating hot chocolate. It is in a mug, but it is the texture of warm mousse, and there is loud American music in the background.

I am supposed to be working...

Oranges, Electricity and White Marble

Oh, guys, I fail in my efforts to record this trip! Sometimes I do a good job, and then sometimes I get a little bogged down with the mundane (or, in the case of school, the awful) and forget to note some details.

For instance, I took a lovely walk with Jordan the other day, and for the life of me I can’t remember when it was. I think it was in September, actually. Whenever it was, it was an absolutely gorgeous day to go exploring.

I do not know the significance of this monument. I am sure that I could look it up somewhere, but I think I will leave it nameless because that is just the way Rome is: nameless novelties everywhere.

We named him Hugo.

We walked through a very beautiful residential area, suspected that politicians lived there since there were army jeeps with alert soldiers parked in a random places, found some lovely churches, walked past the famous keyhole view of the Vatican dome with absolutely no desire to look through it, and found a park in an orange grove.

Oh! It was one of the nicest places that I had seen so far. I cannot possibly describe the scent! And the view was phenomenal as well!

A little further on, we began looking for the “non-Catholic cemetery,” which is supposedly not only gorgeous but also the final resting place of plenty of famous people.

We couldn’t find it.

We did, however, find a cemetery which promptly shot to the top of my “most beautiful places in Rome” list. It was dedicated to the British soldiers who fell during World War 2.

It was so quiet, and so reverently kept, and the arching stones of the Aralian Wall seemed somehow perfect for the place; sympathetic. If you had walked in my picture down the path, you could have read with me the ranks and ages of the soldiers, and often a short line mentioning that he was an only son, and that they would meet again, and that would break your heart. Eventually there would be some sort of altar (you can kind of see the white in the picture), where there was a placard which said something to the effect that the Italian government gifted this land to the fallen soldiers in thanks, hoping that they would find peace even in a foreign land.

We left the place a little somberly, but also strangely rested, and then made our way to the only site that I had actually written down to visit before I left America: The Centrale di Montemartini.

Once upon a time, this building was the first electric power plant in Europe. Now, it is a kind of homage to the hulking black machines, and houses a superb collection of marble statuary, which had been kept in storage until recently.

The contrast in color, texture, and history is truly beautiful.

Jordan mentioned that it was these statues which finally convinced her of the beauty of the human body, and I really have to agree. I always referred to the beauty of the human body, in my mind, to the intricacies of its workmanship, to its fundamental meaning and the beauty of what it could do, but it is these greek/roman statues of real people, standing, not necessarily posing, as if their naked bodies were adornment enough, which finally told me that… we are beautiful.

Of course, the Greeks were obsessed with the ideal, so their statues are all of perfect people with perfect skin and perfect bodies, but they are still a far cry from the grotesque poses and sexually drowned models of today. I think I finally understand the concept of “chaste nakedness.”

Of course, I am definitely not saying that the Romans were entirely pure of heart. Good Lord, no! In fact, in one corner was a carefully detailed, completely undamaged depiction of a satyr in the act of detaining some maiden for definitely nefarious purposes.

It gave me the willies.

After trying and utterly failing to imagine a scenario in which someone would actually want to display such a sculpture in the foyer, I decided that it was the most expensive piece of pornography I had seen and moved on to a wall of harmless heads.

This is one of my favorites. I have since discovered that the model was Septimus Severus, and a prominent general. He must have been a good one, because he doesn’t seem like the type who would have his portrait put up all over Rome just because people liked him.

Another of my favorite pieces was this one of a girl. She’s just a girl, and she’s just thinking, and she is so modest that even hand is covered, but she’s so natural! Even senza nose her expression is perfect, and the sculpting is so skillful that you really believe that there is a soft body underneath the fabric, even though it is stone, and of course solid all the way through.

I’ve seen so many wonders, in so many contexts, in this city.

~Maria

PS. Since my camera died, the picture of Aphrodite from behind and the thinking girl are from Ye Almighty Google. I heartily apologize that the picture of the girl is so unimaginative and flat.

Saint Peter in Chains

I took a quick jaunt the other day to see Michelangelo’s Moses.


(I just love how I can do that; just duck off to see something incredible)

Most people forget that he is actually a piece of some pope’s tomb.

Of course, I had seen pictures of the statue, and right now you are looking at yet another picture, but I never really grasped how great it is. It really is true that you have to see it in person to truly appreciate it, because it is a sculpture, not a painting. It is 3D, not 2D. You have to move around it, see it from different angles, measure yourself against it, realize, “Oh, gee. This is It,” to get the full effect.

The church itself was actually very quiet, but beautiful. When I visited for morning mass a few days later, there were only a few old people there for the mass, plus someone quietly sweeping the floor. Later in the day, groups come to snap pictures, but they left fairly quickly since the rest of the church is… well… bare by Roman standards.

I actually really enjoyed it.

Oh, and by the way, below the alter is a display with the iron manacles supposedly worn by Saint Peter on two different occasions.

…Hence the name of the Church. Priorities, people.

~Maria

Potabile

Rome has plenty of spectacular sights, but it is full of little things that are just plain cool, too. One of these things is its water system. Not only does it still draw huge amounts of its water from the aqueducts built by the Romans, but all the water in the constantly running fountains found at every turn are drinkable.

I don’t just mean the decorative fountains. I have drunk from the Fontana di Trevi, true, but I mean that there are ancient drinking fountains everywhere.

They are about waist high.

Most have a notch, so that if you block the spout with your finger, a stream shoots up from the joint of the spout like a modern drinking fountain.

This is quite amusing to watch, because the water pressure is pretty darn strong, and there are always enough foreigners who don’t have the skill to direct the water properly to give hysterics to the passer-by.

A few of the fountains have a spout in the shape of an animal.

I think it is supposed to be the mother wolf of Romulus and Remus, but I always think “bear” when I see it.

The water is cold and delicious, not to mention much cheaper than bottled water.

-Maria

Happy Birthday to Me!

I am now 21 years old. Cool.

Would you like to see the presents I have gotten today?

The paper is a rhyming list of 21 things about me that Cassie at least, the poet, loves about me. It references so many things in our short life together, that regardless of how sincere it may be, I can't help feeling like it is one of the most thoughtful gifts I have ever received in my entire life.

The roses are from Max. (And just so you don't feel the urge to do any romantic fantisizing, he is presently in a wonderful relationship with a girl he is very much in love with, so the roses are only a tribute to his romantic nature.)

Oh, and I am wearing a necklace made by my sister that has been labeled "kickass" by my fellow housemates.

Oh, and I am in Rome right now.

My life so great!
~Maria

Halloween in Rome

... does not exist.

No, wait, I take it back. The day before, I saw a little girl with a devil horn headband. A few of my compatriots also promised that they saw a store with Halloween costumes, but if you were a woman, you had a choice between "witch" or "bride," so what does that tell you?

I carved a very expensive pumpkin because it was Halloween, darn it.

Snapshots

+everyday as we walk to school, groups in pristine lab coats, smoking delicately

+tall tables in tiny cafes, proudly devoid of chairs, the perfect height for elbows supporting a shot-glass of expresso

+two men chasing pigeons from the ancient carvings about the doorway: one wielding a laser pointer, the other clapping two blocks of wood

+holy haste: a small alter boy with the big crucifix, hurrying to the back of the church