At times this place does get to you. I mean, we have had two full days enjoying Julius Caesar's favorite places. One, the Borghese Gardens, which sit high above the Piazza Dei Popolo, offer a bit of respite from the cobblestone walkways which make up much of the Roman landscape. It's a typically pleasant place, like almost any city park anywhere, except for the incredible artistry and age of the fountains and Roman columns from centuries hence. You can also still drink from the fountains that are fed from the original aqueducts. Yes, the very one's that Julius, Brutus, Cassius, Titinius, The Soothsayer, Portia, and everyone else drank from.
Julius' other favorite hangout was located in a place that shocked all of us. It was in the "Jewish Ghetto or Jewish Quarters", a small area where most of the oldest dated ruins and remains from very ancient Rome have been found. It turns out that Julius enjoyed the company of the Jews and offered protection for them. The story of this small area of Rome runs through many eras, but as you would expect, the history of what happened here in the 1930's and 1940's during the War is quite noteworthy...
I will say before going any further on this topic, that this is only the second place, with St. Francis's tomb being the first, where I have felt anything internally, any sense of vibration or stillness, but this feeling was not one of serenity. There was a silence in the few small blocks of the Ghetto that was uncanny, no, impossible not to feel. I felt as if the walls of the buildings were witnesses to horrific acts and tremendous torment, and they were speaking to me, screaming, crying. This was not a pleasant place.
The Catholic Church teaches about sins of commission and sins of omission: Things that you do, and things that you should have done. The more we read about the history of these Quarters, the more upsetting it was to understand the attitude and the ignorance that these people had to endure and live with. One Papal edict after edict throughout the centuries had subjected the Jews to hardship after hardship and left them with fewer rights than any good conscience could ever dream up. The only thing that came to mind was the plight of the Negro slaves in America. But, once again, when the Church not only turned its back and let the Nazis relocate over two thousand people to Auschwitz, from where only sixty-one returned, and then issued a Papal document explaining that it was in the interest of self preservation and prudence, it makes you wonder what exactly is the source of the real ignorance that allows an organization to live with a policy that dehumanizes a race. This was a pitiful place, and one that upset me tremendously. Of course, there were stories of good people and priests who risked their lives to help the Jews, but it did little to shift the focus from the hierarchy who ignored them.
Yesterday, we finally entered the Coliseum. Aliyah's friend, Musa, attached us to one of his tours and charged us only for the admission, which was very kind of him. We sat and listened to the excellent guide as she explained that exactly where we were sitting was once the site of Nero's statue, which stood taller than the Coliseum. The Emperor Nero burned down sixty percent of the City in sixty-four A.D. or thereabouts and blamed it on the Christians, who then became fair game for the events in the Coliseum and throughout the Empire. After he burned the City, he drained his private lake and it was there, next to his statue and palace, that they built the Coliseum.
The arena's scale is unbelievable, very much the size of the Phillies' ballpark or the Eagles'. It sat between fifty and eighty thousand people, and was so well designed that it could fill to capacity in only fifteen minutes, and also empty in fifteen minutes. The word, arena, comes from the Latin word for sand which is "rena". They would cover the wooden or marble floor during events with sand, so they could clean it up easier afterwards.(If you can wrap your head around that?) There were twenty-one elevators beneath the floor, so the gladiators, Christians, or whoever was in play, never knew what was going to pop up. They averaged three hundred events each year for almost three hundred years! The top priority of the Emperors was to keep the citizens content and happy with them. Each citizen had a marble ID card, which signified your social status and allowed you access to all events and buildings. The guide went on to explain the magnitude of the effort involved to capture animals and prisoners from around the known world at the time to keep the games going. The Coliseum also served different style meals on different days, and if you think that this is impressive, somebody's theater about a mile from the Coliseum sat three hundred thousand people. I can go on and on about what we learned, but we can save all of that for picnic talk at our house when we get home.
Last night we went to the Trevi Fountain, which is simply stunning, and quite the tourist magnet. My Dad would be so happy that I stood at the exact place where Al Alberts sang "Three Coins in a Fountain." It's the scale, the concept, the function, the history, the design; everything about these beautiful sights and buildings that is amazing... We walked and walked, passing through piazza after piazza, all delightful and filled with ruins, history, atmosphere, fountains, and celebration. The constant beauty of each and every setting is quite amazing, and the City seems to be alive everywhere- alive like South Street, but without the filth, attitude, and decadence. Here, there is an ambiance, more of an appreciation of the good life- La Dolce Vita. Of course, we are spending night after night sitting in wonderful little cafes eating our pasta and pizza while really impressive street musicians serenade us, and countless vendors approach us trying to sell roses. I miss my home turf, but I will miss Roma.
I'm more bogged down than blogged out at this point as I approach the one month mark of my sojourn. I've enjoyed blogging, it's allowed me to "low talk" to myself as much as I wanted without Nancy or Monica saying that they can't hear me from the front or back of the van, and Lisa reaffirming this fact passionately with complete emotional life and death type of conviction. The suitcase existence is starting to get to me, but we still have a few things left to do with Aliyah here, and then off to Florence to catch our flight. I will try to finalize this blog with one more entry tomorrow. Until then, it's Ciao for Chow. Alberto, Liscillia, and Aliyaho
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