A honeymoon in ruins

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It took very little convincing for Kristen to agree to go to Rome for our honeymoon. The only other European city that we’ve been to is Paris, and Rome is noticeably different in many ways. Paris is an expansive city filled with open spaces, wide boulevards, and an often Gothic beauty. It is much more spread out and things are sometimes a very long walk from the city-center. However, the city also has a terrific metro system. Rome does not. Each time the Eternal City tries to expand its metro, more archaeological finds are unearthed and work ceases. Unfortunately, its bus system is also not up to Parisian standards. Rome is instead characterized by narrow, crooked cobble-stoned streets that twist maze-like throughout its heart, often revealing historic treasures around every corner. Indeed, it is a very walk-able city, and most things are all within a half-hour trek from each other. This is thankful since the winding streets are easy to get lost in, even with a map, as the small caverns of buildings block any view of landmarks making one’s sense of direction easily thrown into vertigo. But this, of course, is the fun of it all. Rome is not quite as clean as Paris, and graffiti can be found everywhere, especially along the Tiber, but it does have a lived-in feel that adds to its character and makes one feel oddly at home.

We hit all the major spots in Rome that we wanted to see. The most memorable was the Pantheon, the only ancient Roman building completely intact, which was a five-minute walk from our (very nice) hotel, and was where we would hang out each night before turning in, often getting a pizza or gelato and enjoying it while sitting on the base of the massive pillars, watching couples and other late-night strollers hang out in the piazza. Other great places were the Palatine Hill, where the Caesars had their palaces, and which is now a tranquil and breathtaking hill-top Park riddled with fallen columns and erect archways that once lead to the decadence of a bygone era. From there we could peer down upon the immensity of the Colosseum or the Roman Forum, whose ruins lay nestled in the valley between the Palatine and Capitoline hills. Both of these archaeological wonders, it goes without saying, were simply awesome.

Another moment that not everyone can appreciate, but that meant a great deal to me, was to stand in the death-chamber of the Romantic poet John Keats, whose genius was cut short at an age so close my own now, and reading his piece “When I Have Fears,” which deals with his contemplation of death, which he knew was close in coming. It is a poem I have always adored. His home is right beside the beautiful Spanish Steps, where he would look down to the people from his window and watch life passing by. (It is also where Kristen made sure to get a gelato and try to recreate the famous scene in the film Roman Holiday starring Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck. As we ascended the steps to take the picture we saw two other couples doing the exact same thing, one of which were also on their honeymoon from America.)

The Trevi Fountain was nearby, and while sternly and repeatedly telling pushy North African vendors “non grazzi” (pushy vendors are the bane of every vacation city), we tossed our coins in to ensure our return to Rome (pennies - way I was throwing away my Euros). Not far from there was the most solemn of scenes we found on this trip when we visited the Capuchin Brothers Monumental Cemetery, which is a series of rooms within their monastery that are decorated with the bones of about 4,000 brothers, including chandeliers and complete skeletons still in their robes. Photography was forbidden, unfortunately, but Kristen managed to sneak a little video when no one was looking (my conscience often deters me from doing this but, thankfully, hers does not).

Across the Tiber was the Castel Sant’Angelo, which began as the Emperor Hadrian’s tomb but in the Middle Ages became a fortification for the popes, who fled there through underground passages from the Vatican, not far from there. The castle was an awesome sight and to our surprise we were able wander about at our leisure through the courtyards and crenellated walls, all the while taking in breathtaking views. One of the walls from the castle stretches down streets and connects to the walls of Vatican City.

St. Peter’s square was beautiful, and we were able to have audience with Pope Benedict XVI, who drove by a few feet from us in his pope-mobile (actually, he stood in the back of what was more of an open-air jeep) and then seated himself on the steps of St. Peter’s Basilica to give mass. The square was filled with a cheering flock, and there were a great number of Brazilian flags being waved. Being the skeptical secularists that we are, and not prone to being particularly moved by such arcane theatricality, we only stayed for about fifteen minutes of the three-hour service and then ducked off to see the Sistine Chapel in the Vatican Museums while there were no crowds. The basilica itself we chose to see on our last day and the prevalent reaction was: “Wow, that’s fuckin’ big; wow, that looks fuckin’ expensive.” Lots of marble and lots of gold, perhaps even more than Versailles, and I wasn’t sure that was possible. While we were there an American couple was being married in one of the side chapels, and I can only imagine what that “mandatory donation” cost would have been. The Catholic Church seeks to represent Christ on earth, but that whole blessed are the meek, poor, etc. were lost to them before the Roman Empire had even collapsed.

We saw a lot of Rome, and honestly, each thing was worth it (except walking along the Tiber because it reeked of bird shit). Most of all, the Italian people were pleasant, helpful, and always patient while we tried our best to not murder their language (most gladly spoke English anyway). One of the things that will be hardest to forget is, of course, the food. Unlike Paris, whose menus I couldn’t translate and, frankly, scared the shit out of me, Rome’s food was familiar enough to comfort, different enough to excite, and of a consistent quality I have yet to see in the U.S. It is very difficult to eat a bad meal in Rome, as you’ll need to try very, very hard. Their paninis are fresh and satisfying, their pizza is dirt-cheap and delicious, and their firm pastas are complimented by sauces made from fresh ingredients. Two meals of note are worth telling. The first is quaint: buying grapes in the open air market of Campo de Fiori and washing them in the running water of a public fountain, most of which are drinkable and fed from aqueducts in operation since ancient Rome. We sat at the base of the statue of the philosopher Giordano Bruno, who was burned alive by the church in the square in 1600 for promoting the idea of heliocentrism. Some may lose their appetite over such facts, but to me it was more akin to pouring one’s beer to the ground for a dead homie. The second meal was eating the original fettuccini alfredo at the restaurant where it was invented. This may sound hokey, but the food was great.

With Rome, as with Paris, I return to the U.S. slightly changed. I feel akin to their pace of life and their ideas of space, and I love their preference of quality over quantity. Oddly enough, I also come back feeling a bit more patriotic, as their differences (some, I concede, are superior) serve to remind me of what it means to be American. Most of the graffiti I saw was in broken English, clearly by Italian ruffians who don’t know it too well, and some read things like “Aryan Elite Hatred” while another simply read “Hot Boys.” But one that I saw read: “Fuck you U.S.A.” At first I laughed but quickly recognized an anger deep inside me that can only be explained as patriotism. I’m not a nationalist, and as much as I hate the U.S. actions of the Bush administration I still hold a passion for the things our country at its best symbolizes - Liberty, Equality, Benevolence and Hope. I held my head up a little higher knowing that though America is without the marble of the Roman Republic or the art of the Renaissance and the Enlightenment, it is the greatest champion of their legacies. The Constitution put those ideas into practice with zeal and bore fruit never before tasted by humankind.

Travel changes you, even if only a little, but always for the better. I’ve stood in the Colosseum, heard the Pope speak, touched the Pantheon, smelled the Sistine Chapel, and read the dying words of a genius beside his deathbed in the hopes of learning something of the value of life. All this I did in the romantic companionship of a woman who I’ve felt has been a part of me for nearly eight years. These memories serve to remind me that life is worth living, nay, experiencing, and worth living well. I hear you, Keats, I hear you.

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Photos

Trevi Fountain
Kristen tossing in her coin to ensure a return to Rome.