Ostia Antica

On Saturday the 17th, with my friend Ella from Baltimore, and then again on Sunday the 24th, with our friends Nathan, Tim and Bethany from Belgium, we went to the ancient Roman seaport town called Ostia Antica, which was more or less abandoned at the end of the 4th century as the river silted up.

Among the highlights were an open tomb full of jars for ashes,

an extreemely well preserved bar,

the piazzale of corporations, which had mosaics identifying what the corporations did,

several baths with impressive mosaic floors,

an amphitheater,

and a tower with a view of the tiber and much of the town.

**Sophie

Poetry

Yesterday, I gave Denis and his visiting friend, Nathan Miller, the language arts/social studies assignment of writing a poem in 6 couplets about a feat of ancient Roman engineering. Here is the result, along with a photograph from our recent trip to the ruins of the ancient Roman port city of Ostia Antica.

Roman Toilets

by Denis Bauerschmidt Sweeney

and Nathan Miller

When you need to wee wee

You see a bathroom -- whoopee!

You have no modesty,

Less than in the Odyssey.

The pipes are made of lead

So you'll find yourself dead.

In there it was so cold

There may have been mold.

Where would be all the poo

If there were no sewer below you?

The world is full of so many gross things,

We Romans will never be kings.

We hope you have enjoyed this literary moment. -- Maureen

Knife Sharpening

One morning last week we heard a strange cry outside our window. It turns out that it was a traveling knife-sharpener. So we gathered up the extremely dull IKEA knives in our apartment (when you're renting to strangers you don't exactly invest a lot of money in cutlery) and took them down to have them sharpened. He had his grinding wheel hooked up to the wheel of his bike, so he could turn it by pedaling. He also had a contained of water set up to drip onto the blade as he sharpened it, to flush away the filings.

Now our knives are so sharp that we live in constant fear of slicing off a finger.

The Feast of the Chair of Peter

Some of the fun of being Catholic is having feastdays for pieces of furniture.


I went to the 5:00 Mass this evening at St. Peter's, which was celebrated at the "altar of the chair," which stands before Bernini's exquisitely over-the-top sculpture of the chair of Peter, symbol of his authority and the authority of his successors.
For this feastday, they cover the sculpture with candles; I was only able to get a blurry photo:

OK, so it's not really a feast day for a piece of furniture, but rather one that celebrates the role of Peter and his successors in strengthening the faithful, but the furniture does get a lot of attention.


The Mass was very nice, with music by Palestrina and large clouds of incense, which always makes me happy.


The famous statue of Peter by Arnulfo di Cambio (it's the one that everyone touches/kisses the foot of) was specially decked-out for the occasion.

--Fritz

Two Days At The Market

I can't put in any images because I am on the pictureless computer. We went to the market at the Campo de' Fiori. Anyway, we had fun and the only thing that went wrong today was that when my mom touched some random vegetable and a scary lady yelled at us. We then got some eggplant. Yesterday we went to the market and the only bad thing that happened that day was that we walked by some fish and it really stunk. I tried to pay with only coins but I couldn't do it even though coins have much more value here in the E.U.

The Quest for Ella's Boots

Sophie's friend Ella left this morning after a week with us. Yesterday was spent in a whirl of boot-shopping for Ella. We started at the Rome flea market, which grew out of the black market during WWII and is reputed to be the best flea market in Europe. If you've never been, it's quite a scene.

We found lots of hats. . .

. . . and neon-colored bras. . .. . .but no boots.

Maureen and Sophie and Ella then scoured the area around Trastevere and the Campo di Fiore but, since it was Sunday, many shops were closed. After the footsore and dejected shoppers returned home, I went on one more foray with Sophie and Ella to the used clothing shops near the Piazza Navona where, lo and behold, we found boots:

So Ella left this morning happy (though, of course, sad to be leaving) and well-shod.

--Fritz

The Vatican and Borghese Gardens

A few days ago we went to St. Peter's and the Vatican museum.

St. Peter's was impressive as always,

We saw alot of cool things at the Vatican museum.

including this map of Italy.

and the School of Athens

My dad got yelled at for taking this picture of the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.

There were alot of cool statues.

The next day we went to the Borghese museum and gardens. The museum used to be the palace of Cardinal Borghese, who was a big patron of Bernini and Caravaggio. You aren't allowed to take pictures in the museum, so we don't have any pictures to post, but everything was amazing.

After the museum, we went for a walk in the Borghese gardens.

We rented a couple of pedal carts, and rode around in them for a while before heading home.

-Thomas

A picture is worth a thousand words

We have had a marvelous week of exploring Rome high and low with Sophie's very dear friend, Ella Gensheimer, who is here visiting us. We haven't had much time to write, but we'll let the pictures do the talking....

Pizzaaaaah.

Trajan's column -- adventure comics in marble.

Trajan's market, early shopping mall. (Denis has a great powerpoint presentation on the market's history. You might ask to see it sometime if you're interested.)

Sun in St. Peter's.

Gelatoooooh!

Fun in the Borghese Gardens....

"Friends, Romans, Countrymen...." Sophie and Ella at the Rostra, the scene of Marc Antony's famous speech about Julius Caesar (the Shakespeare version):



Umbrella pines and palatial ruins on the Palatine Hill.

Ella contemplating great architecture and blood sports.

Maureen

Happy St. Valentine's Day

Yes, the very skull of the patron saint of lovers, at the church of Santa Maria in Cosmedin. Momento mori, all you lovebirds?

For those looking for a cheerier feastday, it's also the feast of Ss. Cyril and Methodius, apostles to the Slavs.

--Fritz

Sunday Morning Varia

This morning we went to Mass at Santa Sabina, up on the Aventine hill.
The Church, a 5th century basilica, is surrounded by wonderful Orange trees, which were supposedly brought to Rome from Spain by St. Dominic.

The view of the city is spectacular.

Sophie demonstated how to drink from a Roman water fountain.


Back home in Trastevere we enjoyed looking at some of the local fauna.

I'm thinking about a career in wildlife photography.

--Fritz

The Latest way to see Rome. . .

The Segway tour!!!

--Fritz

American Football in Rome

As I said in a previous entry, I am playing American football here in Rome. I discovered this team when I was trying to find something to do to get out of the house, and I googled "american football in rome." I came up with a website for the Roma Gladiatori, which is Rome's professional American football team.

I was able to determine that there was an under 21 and under 17 team in addition to the professional team, but I was lost after that. So my mom sat down and tried to figure out what the site said. We eventually got the email address of the coach for the under 17 team and sent him an email explaining that I was an American living in Rome and, if it was possible, I would like to play on the under 17 team. We received a call within an hour of sending the email, and were told that they would love it if I would play with them. I mentioned the fact that I had never actually played football on a team before, but that didn't seem to matter.

We were given directions to the sports complex, which we discovered was some distance away, and were told that I could come to practice that night at eight. We left soon after and finally got to the field after taking a bus, a train, a metro, and walking a couple of blocks from the metro stop to the complex.

When we got there, we met Fabrizio, who is the head coach and speaks English because he is a pilot, and flies to America on a regular basis. We stayed for a while, and I lost any apprehension I had about playing when a linebacker raced through to the quarterback, grabbed him by the helmet, swung him around in a circle, and threw him down on the ground, not realizing that he had committed a blatant foul. I guess knowing what a facemask is is something most people on a football team in America take for granted.

Anyway, I have been really enjoying practice, and I have some sort of scrimmage on the twenty-fourth, so I'll give an update then.

Roman Beggars and American Panhandlers

One of the downsides of life in Rome is the incredible number of beggars on the streets. Of course panhandlers are all over Baltimore, and every large American city. But somehow here in Rome it's different, and I've been reflecting on why.

It seems to me that in America panhandlers want to present themselves to you as people; in a very American way, they want to make a personal connection, tell you their story (even if it's a made-up story), let you know that they are just temporarily down on their luck and if you'll just give them bus fare they will be transformed into an upstanding fellow-citizens.

Roman beggars, on the other hand, strike me as engaged in an elaborate ritual activity centered around making themselves abject before you (it works even better if one has an obvious physical handicap). Though they want to make eye contact, to hook you, they then quickly duck their heads and launch into a kind of liturgy of begging that is utterly depersonalized, carried out in a sing-song voice that verges on chant. There is no implication that if you give them the loose change in your pocket that their lives will turn around. Rather, they are there like permanent features of the landscape, as if they have been on that particular street corner since the days of the Roman Republic, engaged in their ancient ritual of abjection. You give to them (if you give) in the same way you respond E con il tuo spirito to Il Signore sia con voi.

I'm not exactly sure why, but the Roman form of begging makes me much less inclined to give. I guess it just shows how American I am: the American form of begging works better on me; I like to think I'm making a personal connection by helping out a person in temporary need (even if I suspect that's not really the case).

I realizes that blogging about beggars isn't very frolicsome, but the difference between Roman beggars and American panhandlers gives me something to reflect on this Lent, when we are supposed to engage in almsgiving.

I got a cellphone! (finally)

I got a cellphone for my birthday!

Thomas

My boots

** Sophie

Carnevale

Carnevale is not a real big deal here in Rome -- perhaps because these days they don't seem to really say goodbye to carne -- but we did get a little parade going by our window this morning.

--Fritz

Umbrian adventures

We spent the last three days in Tuscany ( Siena and Arezzo) and Umbria ( Assisi). I'll let someone else tell of our Tuscan adventures and focus on those we had in Umbria. Our second morning of travel, we woke up early and left our hotel in Arezzo around 9 a.m., headed for Asisi. After several hours on the bus, we arived in Asisi, where we visited the church of St. Francis and then went on a walking tour of the city. We ended up in front of the church of St. Claire, where we were released for a lunch and a free afternoon.

After a quickish lunch, we set off with a few of the students to visit to the castle above Asisi. On the way there, we ran into two student returning from the castle who informed us that there were secret passages in the castle! Running to the castle, we stopped for only a few minutes to apreciate the view before hurrying on.

After we got tickets (stopped by the man at the ticket booth who apparently didn't recognize us as people who can go anywhere without paying when Denis and I ran past him), we finally got to the castle and began looking for the secret passages. We found several that led only to walls, as well as a spiral staircase that led to the top of a tower from which the view was breathtaking.

As we were leaving, Denis found a hole in the wall that led to another spiral staircase, this one taking us to the top of the wall and a passage that we all hurried down. It went on for farther than we could see. When we finally came out, we were on top of a tower conected to the castle by a wall. We were all blown away by the view and almost by the wind as well. We clung to the rail and stared at Umbria, sprawled below us.

When it was time to go back to our meeting place from which we would be taken to the bus and Rome, we left reluctantly. Little else happened aside from me and Denis getting lost, in a sense (we knew where we were, it was just our parents who didn't). I can't help wondering how unadventurous our Umbrian adventures would have been if we hadn't stumbled upon that passage in the wall.

**Sophie

Under the Tuscan Rain

First, a note on our blog entries, gentle blog readers. We are finding that our days are very full here, and the pace of our experiences outstrips our ability to sit, reflect and write about them, so we sometimes neglect you, our readers. Part of the reason for that, very likely, is that, in addition to our cultural, historical and artistic explorations, we are also respecting time devoted to enjoying leisurely meals, finding parks, sleeping in a bit (read that as "not dragging the kids out of bed in the morning" -- one of my favorite parts of this venture), and watching episodes from the first season of Heroes on dvd. We apologize that we can't include you all in everything here -- mainly because we love you and wish you could share the loveliness and interestingness of our life here -- but we do need some time just to live it. So, you will get glimpses and moments, some larger reflections, and we will still have tales to tell when we get back.

We just spent a great weekend in Tuscany and Umbria under the direction of David Dawson-Vasquez, the director of the Loyola/CUA program in Rome. We did not do the obvious (go to Florence and see the great Renaissance art there), because David rightly assumes students will do that for themselves. Instead, we spent a day each in Siena, Arezzo, and Assisi, time-traveling back and forth from about the 12th to the 14th century, with short stops in various other eras every once in a while.

For Thomas' birthday on Sunday, we had a wine tasting in the castle in the hills above Florence where the infamous Pazzi conspiracy was hatched. For those of you unfamiliar with this particular bit of Italian history, the Pazzi's were a rival banking family to the powerful Medici family in Florence. They, together with others (and with the support of the pope) attempted to murder Lorenzo "the Magnificent" and his brother Giuliano de Medici at the consecration of the Eucharist during Easter Sunday Mass at the cathedral in Florence in 1478. They succeeded in killing Giuliano, but the magnificent Lorenzo survived and proceeded to wipe the Pazzi family off the Florentine map, killing about 100 family members in 5 days and even destroying the family crest wherever it appeared in the city of Florence. You don't mess with magnificence. The Pazzi's remain enshrined to this day in the Italian language, however, in which "pazzi" means crazy.

But there we were, standing in the very room where the ill-fated plot was hatched, and I'm thinking to myself, "Is that really a Rafael painting on the wall beside me?" and, sure enough, it was one of his Bella Giardiniera (Beautiful Gardener) Madonnas with baby Jesus and John the Baptist. Amazing.

So we went through the rooms where the family lives in the castle and went on down into the dungeon, where the winemaking and aging and storing goes on. We learned about different grades of wine and olive oil (which they also make there) and the dangers of eating anything called simply "olive oil" as opposed to "extra virgin olive oil." Gentle readers, know that if it doesn't say "extra virgin," it is likely 3rd grade oil, much less pure, and like to result in unnamed but clearly ominous consequences. I must say, the tasting portion of the evening included bread with fresh extra virgin olive oil and salt, and it was squisito, as we say in Italian.

The kids were ready to move into the castle from the word go, but it was way too cold for me. It may not have been the best moment for me to consider the move, since we'd been walking around in the rain all day, and I was putting a pretty high value on warm and dry at that moment. But the place was fabulous, and we toasted Thomas on his 16th, when he became a legal drinker in Italy (though any good Italian is bred on watered down wine from a much younger age).

There was, of course, much more to the weekend, including a Cimabue crucifix,

frescoes by Piero della Francesca, the head and finger of Sophie's patroness Catherine of Siena, and all of Assisi, which is fabulous and very moving. As Fritz said, the tomb of Francis does indeed feel like one of those "thin places between heaven and earth." It is a place to which we hope to return before we leave Italy. I will leave the description of Assisi's stronghold or "Rocca Maggiore" to the kids, who are now ready to move in there (despite its half-ruined walls and missing floors and ceilings).

I myself remain very happy with our Roman apartment, from which, gentle readers, we can visit these many wonders and share them with you.

Maureen