Rome: Pagan and Pious

Those who died on September 11th, those who lost their loved ones, those heroes who worked to save others, and all Americans are in my prayers today.

Today I want to remember two fantastic days in Rome. September 10, 2008, was our class trip to the Capitoline Museums, where we saw the stone monuments of Rome's history and mythology. On September 11, we spent a warm and dusty morning harvesting grapes in the vineyards, then rode into Trastevere to visit the church of Santa Cecilia.

September 10

On Wednesday afternoon, buses brought us to the Capitoline Hill, where the Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus once stood above the Forum. Inside we saw reliefs depicting the coronation of emperors, the foundations of the Temple,

the various body parts of the statue of Constantine,

the famous She-Wolf suckling Rome's founders,

Rows of philosophers, their profiles gleaming in the sunset,

and the large golden statue of Emperor Marcus Aurelius.

The Christians only saved it because they thought it was Emperor Constantine!

Leaving the Museum, many of us strolled to a Gelateria near the Pantheon, where they served amazing mousse gelato in an ice cream parlor setting.

We slurped from our tiny spoons by the obelisk and fountain facing the Pantheon. The last tour groups of the day followed a guide, who was inevitably holding a bright umbrella into the air as a beacon. Pigeons fluttered into their nests in the forest of columns on the temple's facade. Italian parents helped their children drink water at the public fountain. Couples sat at the cafes on the eastern side of the piazza, glasses of rose wine resting on tablecloths. A never-ending flow of people drifted out of the alley leading from the Corso and the Trevi Fountain. We sat under the obelisk, a break in the stream, as the crowd divided, then gathered again, heading northwest into the streets leading to Piazza Navona.

 September 11

Thursday morning brought us outside onto the school grounds for the Vendemmia. Every year the Fall Romers tromp into the vineyards and help to harvest that year's crop of grapes. Every green leaf and vine shown in the sunrise as we grabbed red crates and clippers to break the tough stems. Hundreds of bluish-purple grapes, like dusty jewels, dropped softly into the buckets. The rich tan dust underfoot stained our hands and T-shirts. It was soon joined by purple stains as grape fights sprang up here and there throughout the vineyards.

 

Cleaned up and dressed for church, buses brought us into Rome once more. Standing on my bus, Dr. Flusche (our Art professor and an amazing woman) told us about the quiet neighborhood of Trastevere, encouraging us to visit its streets of simplistic beauty often. Another Rome Regret: that I didn't take her advice and go to Trastevere more! We all freaked out a little bit when we saw a sign for Casa di Dante, since we had just spent a semester reading Dante's Divina Commedia. Dr. Flusche brought us back down to earth, reminding us that Dante had lived in Florence.

 Waiting in the courtyard of the church, we discovered that it was an unofficial "Purple Day"--it was easy to be wearing similar outfits with a limited amount of clothing.

Santa Cecilia contains beautiful paintings and mosaics, though it is more modest than some of its Baroque neighbors. Angels on the ceiling hold musical instruments, commemorating Cecilia as the patron saint of music. Dr. Lowery told us the legends of Cecilia's death in the 2nd century, and of her body, which is incorrupt.

A sculptor's representation of her body.

Lifelike and pure, this marble statue makes us see every fold of fabric, and even the saint's delicate fingers evoking the Trinity.

The crypt is the masterpiece of this church, for the arches, ceiling, and floor are covered in glittering mosaics. Unfortunately, I don't have any pictures, but imagine seraphim with six gold wings against a bright blue background. Monsignor Fucinaro celebrated mass as we gazed on saints, evangelists, and angels.

At twilight we crossed the river and posed in front of the Temple of Hercules with muscles flexed.

Following the Circus Maximus, we got on the metro and headed home.