Pilgrimages

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Sunday night was a late one, so Monday started a bit slowly for me. I woke up as Linda was heading down to breakfast. I did my yoga routine, took a shower, and headed down to breakfast at 9:45.

Separate Ways
We had planned the night before that we would split up in the morning and meet at an agreed upon location at 3PM. Leslie and Linda got an early start to the Sistine Chapel. Carrie was heading out on a pilgrimage of sorts to Isola Tiberina, where there is a church that has special meaning to her. Carrie has a special affinity for St Bart's church in London. The church and its associated hospital were championed by a man named Rahere. He had been inspired to build the church and hospital in honor of St. Bartholomew ("Apostle of Healing") while ill during a pilgrimage to Rome. If I understand the legend properly, Rahere recovered from malaria in a hospital on this island. So Carrie planned to spend her morning exploring the island and visiting its church. I was making my own version of a pilgrimage . . . to the Opera Nazionale Montessori and to the first school (casa dei bambini) that Maria Montessori opened, in January 1907.

Carrie and I happened upon each other in the lobby and had breakfast together. We realized that the office I would be visiting is quite close to her island. So we walked together. After about three blocks, on what we came to think of as our alleyway (the street connecting the area with our hotel to the area by the river,) we saw Leslie and Linda walking towards us; the line at the Sistine Chapel wound from the museum entrance all the way down la via di Porta Angelica then doubled back on itself. They decided not to spend their entire morning waiting in line. Their new destination, Area Sacra di Largo Argentina, isn’t far from “Carrie’s” island and “my” office . . . so we all walked together down to the river (cue Bruce Springsteen.) We had a nice walk along the Piazza Tavere, passing some people and dogs living under the bridges (but never feeling at all threatened.) We came across some other, less pleasant reminders of the people living there, but other than that it was a nice walk. And it was fun to, by chance, start our separate morning all together!


Meeting Maria
I quite easily made my way to Via di San Gallicano, 7. The office was not as imposing as I had expected, a simple (locked) door in a building. I rang the buzzer, wishing that I had made a specific appointment, and asked for Elena Dompe, the woman with whom I had exchanged emails. She said that she was busy today, wished I was coming Tuesday instead. I should have called, but using the phone in a foreign country has always intimidated me, even in London! She was very gracious, however, and showed me to the library. This library contains only books and magazines by and about Maria Montessori. The top shelf is lined with theses that have been presented by college graduates; the Opera Nazionale awards a prize every year for the best thesis. A wall in the corner displays photos of Maria Montessori and a shadow box frame includes one of the first movable alphabets she cut, by hand, in 1909. The long wall is reserved for a glass case containing first editions of many (perhaps all) of her books, and several handwritten items. In the very center is a handwritten book, a journal recording her method as it evolved during her first experience with the children at Casa dei Bambini on Via dei Marsi. I did indeed get a bit of a chill looking at the hand written items, a sense of Maria’s presence. I like to call her by her first name as if we were friends. I would have loved a chance to have spoken with her. The story of her life belies the clinical sound of “the Montessori method”, as if it was devised by a committee from a town named Montessori. She led a fascinating life, and worked hard to develop and evolve and disseminate her ideas because she believed so strongly in the worth and intrinsic giftedness of every child.

The manuscripts and books that filled the glass case in the library represented the culmination of this conviction. By way of Ann Marie and Kimberly’s inspired teachers (and those teachers’ teachers,) these books have driven my daughters’ education, encouraging their confidence in their abilities, and providing a learning environment in which they can absorb the real meaning behind the facts. Maria’s methods have fostered pride in their own accomplishments, consideration of their classroom peers, and their love of learning for the sake of learning. I find that my children want to do the work and obtain the knowledge because of the joy they get from creating a sentence, adding a set of numbers, finding the cube root, writing a poem, reading a book. Some of that is their nature; but a fair share of the credit goes to their teachers and to my friend Maria.

Elena was called away, and another woman, named Maria (I kid you not,) joined me in the library. She gave me a few books (in English) to peruse, one of which was the proceedings of a conference from 2002. In the transcript of the opening remarks given by the organization’s president, he spoke “with heavy heart” of the fact that Maria Montessori receives more respect in other countries than in her own Italy. I had not realized this, and talked at some length with Maria about the obstacles to getting public support for opening more Montessori schools. I told her some things about our school, how lucky we are that it is a public school and that it goes through 8th grade. They do not have a Montessori middle school in Rome. We also visited the classroom where they teach the teachers, and along the way we talked more and I learned more.

I purchased a few posters for the girls’ teachers; then we returned to the library for me to gather my belongings. I began to push in my chair at the table and Maria stopped me and asked me not to do so. I looked at her, somewhat confused, and she explained that if I pushed in my chair then I would not return. She pushed my chair in for me, and said, “Now you will be back!” (Between the chair and the coins in the fountain I should be all set!)

I told her that I had thoroughly enjoyed my visit and tried to explain how I felt, how special it had been to see the manuscripts, and I actually got tears in my eyes trying to express myself; so I guess I got my point across!

After a heartfelt thank you and good-bye to Maria and to Elena, I headed to the next stop on my pilgrimage: the first casa dei bambini, opened by Maria Montessori 100 years ago.



The First Bus Adventure
(and the first lost item)
I bought my bus ticket at the tabacchi (tobacco shop) and found the bus stop. I had thought Maria said to get on the bus that said “H”; but they all had numbers, not letters. As a bus pulled up, I decided to get on with a woman who was getting on and asked her if it was the right bus. Unfortunately, it was not the correct bus. A comedy starring my rudimentary Italian ensued. (She spoke no English.) I managed to get enough across to explain where I was going, and she managed to explain to me where I had to change bus lines. The result was that I got off one stop before her and changed to the sette-cinque bus. The woman and I had a nice time on the bus, smiling and nodding and pretending to understand eachother. She waved enthusiastically from the bus and kept motioning 7-5 with her hands :-).

Fabulously the linea 75 bus took me past the Coliseum and the Forum, with lots of traffic lights along the way; almost like a bus tour, all for one euro. The final fermata on this linea was Termini (the train station.) In the ensuing 30 minutes I checked the train schedule for Florence, gave an apple I had brought to a gypsy woman who was begging at the station, bought a new apple, and logged on to the Internet. Somehow, during that time I managed to lose two items: my map to the school (it is off the edge of the guide book map) and the poster tube with the Montessori posters. I retraced my steps but was unable to recover either item, although I’m pretty sure that I left the poster tube at the fruit stand. That resulted in a rather interesting discussion of karma at dinner . . . I gave away the apple and then lost my posters while buying a new apple . . . so the good karma will take a round-about way of coming back to me . . .

Dove Via dei Marsi?
I knew three things: I knew the address of the school, I knew it was within a mile of the train station, and I knew the general direction. So I decided to go for it. However, it is a street that is only a block long, so it took a bit of circling to hone in on it. I had to ask directions quite a few times, and noone in this neighborhood seemed to speak English. With a little Italian, and a lot of help (most notably from a woman in a grocery store who left her groceries to come outside and point the way for the final leg of my journey) I did finally find Via dei Marsi, 58. It is an unimposing entrance, a doorway to a courtyard. Within the courtyard I found a commemorative plaque, and a window through which I watched a classroom. I was able to enter an exterior door but since I did not have an appointment, I stopped there. Inside I took a photo of something rather mundane: their lunch menu (mostly pasta!) I sat on the steps of the school for a moment, to rest and reflect. Being here was special because it was the first school she had opened, where her ideas really found their shape. It was also fun to peek through the windows and see the bambini (it looked to be an age 3-6 class) going about their day in the same manner as Kimberly’s classroom. Maria Montessori’s observations of the way children learn transcend nationality.

Well, my time was up; I was due to meet Linda, Carrie, and Leslie at a church in Piazza Barbarini (unfortunately during the whole walk, Bababa-baba-barino ran through my head.) We were convening after our mornings spent following our various curiosities - Linda and Leslie to Area Sacra (where Julias Caesar died), Carrie to an inspiring chuch, and me on the self-fashioned Montessori tour. History, spirituality, and education. Well, enough with the intellectual stuff; time for gelato and the Spanish Steps!

Paparazzi
(What? They aren't here to take pictures of us?)
From our meeting place we walked uphill to the top of the Spanish Steps. En route we got our first taste of gelato; the look on my face as the first bite of Hazelnut crossed my lips . . . heaven on a spoon. A few blocks later we saw a crowd around a hotel, Hassler Villa Medici, described by my guidebook as follows: “Offering stunning views of Rome, this famous hotel draws Hollywood stars and world leaders who seek its discretion . . .” There was a large crowd plus a few paparazzi with three foot long telephoto lenses. We asked around and the consensus was that Tom Cruise (in town to get married to Kate whats-her-name) would be coming out the door any minute. Leslie and Linda waited about thirty seconds; Carrie and I waited about five minutes. (The 16-year-old inside of me, fan of Risky Business and Top Gun, would not have minded a glimpse; despite his current odd opinions, he was the cutie of my youth.) But five minutes was long enough to wait. I suspect that a hotel “known for its descretion” has an exit other than the doors at the top of a major tourist attraction!

The Spanish Steps are a walk-by (or in this case, a “walk-down”) attraction. Picturesque, wide steps with several landings, lots of tourists sitting here and there, and a fountain at the foot of the steps.

Feeling at Home
(but it's still not Home-Home)
From there we walked “home”, down the major shopping street, past Gucci and Prada and Ferrari, then through the more local area, where Linda and I had had dinner Saturday night, then over the pedestrian Sant’Angelo bridge, back to our hotel. All without any 4-map corner conferences. We were suddenly more confident in navigating. An area that had seemed so new and confusing now seemed familiar and comfortable. Of course, there are always newer areas of the new place, and before another day passes, I will find myself lost again . . . (more foreshadowing)

We arrived at the hotel at about 5:30 and agreed upon a 7pm dinner. I spent every minute of that time writing in this journal. We ate dinner somewhere called Zigaetana, where the food was not as memorable as the name.


Exhausted, I fell asleep quite early, at the end of another momentous day!

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Photos

"Our" street
Our hotel was on Via Properzio; follow that across busy Via Stefano Porcari (treacherous for pedestrians) to find quiet Via d'Ombrellari; after one block, this changes to Verba D'Orfeo, passing beneath an arch in the wall that runs parallel to Via Della Conciliazione (the street that leads to the Vatican.)

Amici che camminano lungo il fiume
Friends stroll along the Tiber River.

Casa dei Bambini
Via de Marsi, 58

Better Than The Original!
This is the collage that I created from my own photos, and sent to Shutterfly for them to make posters for the teachers' gifts . . . in a way they are even better than what I lost. Maybe that's where the Karma comes around?

Et Tu, Fluffy?
Area Sacre, which is where Julius Caesar was killed, is in modern times . . . a cat sanctuary! Look closely, there are three kitties in this photo.

More "Umbrella" Trees
I just love these trees!