Rome (21 Jul 1997)
20th July 1997
The train got into Rome at 21:05. Setting about finding the YH, I felt something I hadn’t felt in Venice: safe. No tension about the dark. The metro and buses were bustling at that hour and people were friendly, going out of their way to point me to my stop. The YH reminded me of my hostel at BITS – it even had a PA system to announce phone calls. Spacious, a pleasing sense of space and light, sounds of traffic through the grounds all night. I would probably like to live and work in Rome for a few months – live in and experience this city. Don’t really like this tourist mode I’m in now, though I’m being a very effective tourist thanks to the AA Explorer!
21 Jul 1997
First things first – I went to the station to book return tickets on a couchette. Took 40 mins in the queue. It was 11ish by the time I set out to see the city. The heat was already terrible. I didn’t really feel like seeing sights. But you can’t be a tourist and not do your duty, so I dragged my feet to the Colosseo.
The Colosseum
It was huge but not awe-inspiring. Millions of tourists crawling all over it. Surprising: no entrance fee to get in. Going up to the first floor costs, which I paid – too crowded below. From the top I looked all around it and tried to imagine it in ancient times. Down below there was a bride and groom taking photos in front of the Colosseum. She was dressed in classical white. There are chaps around here dressed as ancient Romans – short skirts, swords – who pose for photos and then look for the equivalent of baksheesh. It’s a bit sad that people have to make a living that way.
Castel Saint Angelo
Castel St. Angelo next – Hadrian’s mausoleum, then palace, fort, prison, now museum. A lot of steps. My feet were killing me by then, after long waits in queues, walking in uncomfortable shoes. The rooms were quite haphazard, as though built at different times and not particularly reconciled to each other. Many pointless nooks and crannies. Not the best use of space. The feeling of just filling time, doing it because I was in Rome and had to. But I was pleasantly surprised to find a larger collection than I’d expected.
Saint Peter’s Basilica
Next I wearily trudged to Saint Peter’s Basilica, noticing that the Tiber slinks past the Castel Saint Angelo.
St Peter’s Basilica turned out to be a mind-enhancing experience. From the square, through the entrance, and then the climb up to the cupola (dome): more steps, a lot more steps, spiral steps, slanting steps, stone steps, concrete steps, steel steps – two levels at the top: one looking inwards and down at the basilica, the other higher, looking out over the rooftops of Rome.
Rome from the top is unassuming and matter-of-fact. Its buildings look run-down and dusty. The cobbled roads are everywhere – not pretty or touristy, very utilitarian, the cracks filled with cigarette stubs and dirt. Not enough rain to wash it clean. Rome certainly felt more crowed with tourists than London, but then maybe London handles tourists better – tucks them into its enormous parks, not littering the streets with them!
Back down and inside: the interior is enormous and awe-inspiring. Not cluttered with paintings. The ceiling is decorated ornately but is too far up to look at closely. There is a pleasing sense of space and light; cool and solemn without feeling gloomy. Marble floors, marbles of different kinds and colours on the walls, blending harmoniously. Many aisles and chapels within, facing different directions, not partitioned. The inner facing balcony of the cupola was covered in mosaics – flat panels giving the impression of shading and blending through juxtaposed flat colours. The skill is in determining which shades go where, not in mixing them. I’d missed the mosaics of the Basilica San Marco in Venice; these were fair compensation. Since my BITS days of painting large auditorium panels, I have always loved this style of “mosaic” art – where small adjacent solid colour patches combined give an impression of shading and depth.
Michelangelo’s Pieta is near the entrance, enclosed in glass: Mary holding the crucified Jesus in her arms. Another brilliant sculpture. I’m getting repetitive with adjectives for Michelangelo.
I went back the following evening for the mass. The choir music flowed over everything while evening sun streamed in through the high windows and transformed the place, a soft glow settling over it.
St Peter’s has a strict dress code – no shorts, no sleeveless tops. Ironically, this has made the entrance area a common public dressing room: everyone standing there pulling on trousers over shorts, or wrap-around skirts, or sweaters, and on the way out taking it all off again. I wonder what God would say if he took a peek outside.
