Sometimes the best gifts come in ordinary packages. This was true of the basilica above. Not much to look at from the outside, but there were treasures just beyond the doors. Notice, too, the young woman in the shawl. These are required to enter most churches, if you show up sleeveless.
For the past three days, Ancient Rome has served as my focus
Monday, July 13, was my most arduous day physically in Rome. First, I tramped down to the Roman Forum, Coliseum, and Palatine Hill. If you are in Rome and wish to enter these areas, I found a trick online that helps. The lines waiting to enter the Coliseum, even at the opening hour of 8:30, are very long. But I had discovered online to take Via San Gregorio, which is the street that runs between the Coliseum and the Roman Forum. It isn’t marked and begins as a street for pedestrian traffic only. As you climb the street, on your right is the line of people waiting to enter the Forum. It’s not as long, but if you continue farther up the street, you will come to a pink archway. This is the entrance to Palatine Hill, and the ticket you purchase there allows entry to both the Forum and the Coliseum.
Here there was an entry line of one—me. When I asked the ticket agent why no one else came here, she replied, “Because no one else knows about us.”
Palatine Hill is a jumble of palaces, temples, and beautiful walkways. What struck me most about these confusing ruins was the majesty the buildings must have once presented.
From this hill, there are beautiful views of the city, the Forum, the Coliseum, and the Circus Maximus. If we keep in mind that the buildings once here used to rise far high above the hill, we can see why various emperors chose this location for their imperial dwellings.
After visiting here for a while, go downhill to the entryway and then toward the Forum. Here the buildings are better described and marked by the explanatory signs along the way. For me, even though I was once here thirty-five years ago, there is an electric thrill walking in the footsteps of the Ancient Romans. Here was the Curia; various temples, including that of the Vestal Virgins; the triumphal arches; all those scattered columns and ruins you see in any photograph of the heart of Republican Rome. The Forum was hot and dusty, filled with tour groups seeking shade and water, but who cares? The magic, at least for me, was here.
Before continuing on to the Coliseum, I visited two churches. The first was San Pietro in Vincoli (St. Peter in Chains), to see Michelangelo’s Moses. Here once again I was confronted by my own ignorance Vasari, whom I read long ago, had said of this statue: “No modern work will ever equal it in beauty, no, not ancient either.” I kept staring at the statue, but finally decided I preferred several others I have seen here and elsewhere. I was impressed, however, by the glass-encased chains said to have bound St. Peter in Palestine.
Next came the surprise of the day: the Basilica of San Clemente. This church stunned me because of its history. You enter the modern basilica (ancient in our terms), stroll around, and then pay a fee to enter the levels below the church. Here you find another, even more ancient basilica, along with beautiful mosaics, and then go below this church to find an even older Roman house, an alleyway, and a temple dedicated to Mithra, an Eastern god particularly worshipped by Roman soldiers. Here in this one space you have the great glory of this city, an onion whose layers reveal age after age of history.
Then back to the Coliseum. (And yes, Jeremy, I did want to shout: “Are you not entertained?” from the movie Gladiator). The size of this great amphitheater is stunning. You know it is huge when looking at it from the outside, but entering and climbing up the flights of stairs gives you it true proportions. Again, an hour of magic.
On Tuesday, I stuck much closer to the hotel. By noon on this day, I felt depleted and ill, but couldn’t figure out why until I realized I had walked ten miles on Monday in the heat of the day, and that I needed to drink more water and eat some food. Having realized this—yes, I am an idiot—I crunched down a medium-sized pizza at a nearby restaurant and felt well within the hour.
Today brought another surprise. I went to tour the Ara Pacis Augustae, the altar of peace built by Augustus now housed in a glass and steel structure. While there, I purchased a ticket to a special exhibit on the first floor called “Nutrire L’Impero,” which is Italian for “Food of the Empire.” I almost didn’t buy the ticket for this exhibit, but then gave way and will be always grateful I did. Here, in gallery after gallery, was a history of food from the Roman Empire: where it came from, how it got here, how it was prepared and served. Once again, I wished I had my Latin students with me, for this exhibit was one of the best I have seen in Rome.
Later in the afternoon I visited a church behind the Pantheon in search of one of my heroes, St. Catherine of Siena. Built on the foundations to a temple to Minerva, this church contains a statue by Michelangelo, wonderful art, and a burial ground that includes the remains of the artist Fra Angelo. These are wonderful treasures, but what I sought was the tomb of St. Catherine. And there she lay, under the main altar. I light a candle for some certain people and then sat for a while in a nearby pew.
One last note: after an afternoon stroll and then another this evening, I have decided that my favorite street here is Via dei Portoghesi, about a block from my house. The attractions for me to this street are 1) no crowds 2) a neighborhood feeling 3) a little three table al fresco tavern next to Orso 8 whose elderly, white-haired owner waits the tables and has the face and demeanor of a saint and 4) a wine store called, I think, Viniamo, whose owner tonight spent ten minutes showing me various bottles of Italian white wine.
It was in this store, too, that this evening I gave directions to two local groceries to some fellow Americans, which made me feel more a part of the neighborhood.
Monday, July 13, was my most arduous day physically in Rome. First, I tramped down to the Roman Forum, Coliseum, and Palatine Hill. If you are in Rome and wish to enter these areas, I found a trick online that helps. The lines waiting to enter the Coliseum, even at the opening hour of 8:30, are very long. But I had discovered online to take Via San Gregorio, which is the street that runs between the Coliseum and the Roman Forum. It isn’t marked and begins as a street for pedestrian traffic only. As you climb the street, on your right is the line of people waiting to enter the Forum. It’s not as long, but if you continue farther up the street, you will come to a pink archway. This is the entrance to Palatine Hill, and the ticket you purchase there allows entry to both the Forum and the Coliseum.
Here there was an entry line of one—me. When I asked the ticket agent why no one else came here, she replied, “Because no one else knows about us.”
Palatine Hill is a jumble of palaces, temples, and beautiful walkways. What struck me most about these confusing ruins was the majesty the buildings must have once presented.
From this hill, there are beautiful views of the city, the Forum, the Coliseum, and the Circus Maximus. If we keep in mind that the buildings once here used to rise far high above the hill, we can see why various emperors chose this location for their imperial dwellings.
After visiting here for a while, go downhill to the entryway and then toward the Forum. Here the buildings are better described and marked by the explanatory signs along the way. For me, even though I was once here thirty-five years ago, there is an electric thrill walking in the footsteps of the Ancient Romans. Here was the Curia; various temples, including that of the Vestal Virgins; the triumphal arches; all those scattered columns and ruins you see in any photograph of the heart of Republican Rome. The Forum was hot and dusty, filled with tour groups seeking shade and water, but who cares? The magic, at least for me, was here.
Before continuing on to the Coliseum, I visited two churches. The first was San Pietro in Vincoli (St. Peter in Chains), to see Michelangelo’s Moses. Here once again I was confronted by my own ignorance Vasari, whom I read long ago, had said of this statue: “No modern work will ever equal it in beauty, no, not ancient either.” I kept staring at the statue, but finally decided I preferred several others I have seen here and elsewhere. I was impressed, however, by the glass-encased chains said to have bound St. Peter in Palestine.
Next came the surprise of the day: the Basilica of San Clemente. This church stunned me because of its history. You enter the modern basilica (ancient in our terms), stroll around, and then pay a fee to enter the levels below the church. Here you find another, even more ancient basilica, along with beautiful mosaics, and then go below this church to find an even older Roman house, an alleyway, and a temple dedicated to Mithra, an Eastern god particularly worshipped by Roman soldiers. Here in this one space you have the great glory of this city, an onion whose layers reveal age after age of history.
Then back to the Coliseum. (And yes, Jeremy, I did want to shout: “Are you not entertained?” from the movie Gladiator). The size of this great amphitheater is stunning. You know it is huge when looking at it from the outside, but entering and climbing up the flights of stairs gives you it true proportions. Again, an hour of magic.
On Tuesday, I stuck much closer to the hotel. By noon on this day, I felt depleted and ill, but couldn’t figure out why until I realized I had walked ten miles on Monday in the heat of the day, and that I needed to drink more water and eat some food. Having realized this—yes, I am an idiot—I crunched down a medium-sized pizza at a nearby restaurant and felt well within the hour.
Today brought another surprise. I went to tour the Ara Pacis Augustae, the altar of peace built by Augustus now housed in a glass and steel structure. While there, I purchased a ticket to a special exhibit on the first floor called “Nutrire L’Impero,” which is Italian for “Food of the Empire.” I almost didn’t buy the ticket for this exhibit, but then gave way and will be always grateful I did. Here, in gallery after gallery, was a history of food from the Roman Empire: where it came from, how it got here, how it was prepared and served. Once again, I wished I had my Latin students with me, for this exhibit was one of the best I have seen in Rome.
Later in the afternoon I visited a church behind the Pantheon in search of one of my heroes, St. Catherine of Siena. Built on the foundations to a temple to Minerva, this church contains a statue by Michelangelo, wonderful art, and a burial ground that includes the remains of the artist Fra Angelo. These are wonderful treasures, but what I sought was the tomb of St. Catherine. And there she lay, under the main altar. I light a candle for some certain people and then sat for a while in a nearby pew.
One last note: after an afternoon stroll and then another this evening, I have decided that my favorite street here is Via dei Portoghesi, about a block from my house. The attractions for me to this street are 1) no crowds 2) a neighborhood feeling 3) a little three table al fresco tavern next to Orso 8 whose elderly, white-haired owner waits the tables and has the face and demeanor of a saint and 4) a wine store called, I think, Viniamo, whose owner tonight spent ten minutes showing me various bottles of Italian white wine.
It was in this store, too, that this evening I gave directions to two local groceries to some fellow Americans, which made me feel more a part of the neighborhood.
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