Friday, August 14 2015
My well-laid plans have a way of coming undone in Rome, but something equally worthwhile develops to make the day valuable.
My intention was to see Bramante's Tempietto, and I did. This perfect example of Renaissance architecture is located by the church of San Pietro in Montorio down via Garibaldi from my beloved Fontana dell' Acqua Paola. I walk into a park to the side of the belvedere trying to find the church when I see a Roman woman walking towards me.
"Oh, no, not this way. I'll show you--", and she points me to via Garibaldi and tells me to keep my eyes on the left side of the road.
Sure enough, I come upon a classic early Renaissance church, cheek-by-jowl with the Spanish Institute. I don't see the Tempiello, but go inside the church, and am rewarded: the church is exquisitely Baroque (the interiors may have been designed by Bernini). The church is small and playing in the background are monks chanting. I am delighted to learn that there is Mass here Sundays at both 8:00 a.m. and 11:00 a.m. The Janiculum Hill is fast becoming my favorite place in Rome, for many reasons.
I walk over to the door to the Spanish Institute to see whether I can find anything about the Tempiello when, looking left I see it up a few stairs and beyond two massive doors. The Tempiello was paid for by the King of Spain and the Spanish government remains its custodian. In August it is only open to visitors in the mornings, so I have been lucky. It has indeed been worth the effort, a memorial to Saint Peter in multi-colored marble and a structure as sober as any Roman building of Peter's time.
From San Pietro in Montorio I head for the Piazza Navona, because I want to find the church of the Augustinians, which contains Caravaggio's Virgin of Loreto, or as the painting is otherwise known, The Madonna of the Pilgrims. The painting shows two poor pilgrims on their knees before the Virgin and Child. The Child looks like a strapping two or three year old; Mary's hands press firmly into his flesh to keep a grip on him, even as she looks down tenderly on the elderly woman and the younger man accompanying her. I must say that the details of the painting are hard to see, as the Cavaletti chapel is unlit. However, I have seen it enough times in photographs to know the details of the images, and I'm glad I now know the church of the Augustinians is neither of the two churches in Piazza Navona --which I stopped in before finding the one with the Caravaggio. So many churches to know in this, the ultimate Roman Catholic city. After seeing the Caravaggio Loreto I follow the arrow to the Palazzo Colonna and look at the Caravaggio's there, including Saint John the Baptist.
From the Church of the Augustinians I make my way via della Scrofa which becomes Via Ripietta in search of Augustine's mausoleum. I saw Julia Roberts visit the mausoleum at night in Eat, Pray, Love and always thought the inside of the tomb must be something to see. It is right behind the Ara Pacis, the newest museum in Rome, designed by Richard Meier around an arch to the goddess of Peace built by the Roman Senate in honor of the return of Emperor Augustus from three year's fighting in Gaul. Originally located on the outskirts of Rome, it was moved to its present site in 1938. The Meier building --a transparent rectangular box with white floors and walls-- was used as the site of a retrospective of 300 of the designer Valentino's designs in 2007. The museum is now featuring an exhibit, Feeding the Empire, about Rome and its granary, Sicily.
I am here, however, to see the Mausoleum of Augustus, and I cannot seem to find it: There is a ruin surrounded by chain link fence, a round structure made of bricks, tantalizingly inaccessible. I walk all around its length, but there is no opening for visitors. I stop a man on the street who tells me every time he has walked by it has been closed. The fact is that the mausoleum was closed down to visitors in the 1960s, although it was a site homeless slept in until the protective fence was put in not too long ago. I imagine the producers of Eat, Pray, Love must have made a hefty contribution to be allowed to film there. (I seem to recall the scene shot at the mausoleum includes Julia passing some of the denizens of the night as her male companion leads her into the depths of the tomb.)
The tomb it turns out, could not be renovated in time for the 2,000th anniversary of the death of Augustus in 2014, due to a lack of funds. It is now expected to re-open in 2016. The tomb lies on the Campus Martius and was an extravagant statement of authority: lined with marble, 150' high, topped with a 15' bronze statue of Augustus, it was also the columbarium of the ashes of not only Augustus, but his successors Tiberius and Claudius.
All came to nought: the Vandals pillaged the tomb and scattered the ashes, but they were only the first of the marauders to gratify themselves over Augustus' grave: the tomb was damaged by cannon fire during the wars between the Colonna and Orsini families in the 1100s, made into the site of formal gardens and a palazzo in the 1500s, and used for bullfights in the 1700s, and later still, fireworks displays.
Shelley's Ozymandias comes to mind:
"I MET a Traveler from an antique land,
Who said, "Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desart. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read,
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed:
And on the pedestal these words appear:
"My name is OZYMANDIAS, King of Kings."
Look on my works ye Mighty, and despair!
No thing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that Colossal Wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away."
Sic transit gloria
***
From the tomb of Augustus, I went on to the Piazza di Popolo, clearly visible from the nearby via Corso. From there I went on to Santa Maria Maggiore, one of the three Vatican basilicas on my list. I started from the Spanish Steps, making my way up to via Sistina, which flows into via delle Quatre Fontane and Via Agostino Depretis before ending in the Piazza di Santa Maria Maggiore. However, on my way I pass the Palazzo Barberini and go in. Caravaggio's Judith Cutting Off The Head Of Holofernes is not on display, so I take a pass, as I saw the painting at the Metropolitan Museum's Caravaggio retrospective years ago, and in Rome on my first visit. I buy the postcard in the gift shop instead and continue my travels.
By this point in the day I am thinking about returning to the apartment and what I will do after, ad I think stopping briefly in the church will do. However, it would be impossible to miss the piazza di Santa Maria Maggiore which I have to walk around to get to the front of, where visitors come in. The plaza is enormous and at the front I see the first priests I've seen since I got to Rome. They are tall and young and wearing black soutanes. I am carrying a bottle of water in one hand, a bottle of half-consumed Diet Coke in the other, and I feel a bit abashed entering the church that way, wondering whether I'll be stopped at the door. However, the guard lets me in without a glance and as I walk inside the basilica I am gobsmacked: the enormous space is spectacular, with a coffered ceiling of gilded squares with gilded rosettes, one after the other. The side panels are on two levels, also gilded and including images of the life of Mary. I don't have time to stop, as I'm trying to get back to the apartment by 3:30 p.m., so I buy a postcard to keep the image alive in my head.
From Santa Maria Maggiore I pick up via Cavour (which I will follow tomorrow to get to Tiburtino Station). I follow it to its end by the Aventine Hill, having passed the Baths of Diocletian, the Colosseum, and the Arch of Constantine. However, I have gone too far south and am now in Testaccio, where my friends live. I learn this by chatting with a cyclist paused for a break near a gas station near piazza Albania. Realizing I am near the Pyramid of Cestius and therefore, near the Protestant Cemetery --where Keats is buried, I abandon my plan to arrive at the apartment by 3:30 p.m. and decide to find the grave, another stop on my list.
The pyramid is easy to find. The road to the cemetery is adjoining, a visiting English couple, also in search of their poets' graves, confirm. However, the cemetery is closed for the week of ferragosto.
"But you can see Keats' grave through the window grate in the wall near the beginning of the cemetery wall", one of them tells me. I retrace my steps and indeed, I find the grate and can see through it a small, rectangular grey stone with no name on it. The famous inscription "His name was writ in water", is clearly visible. Next to Keats' grave is that of Joseph Severn, whom Keats entrusted with the task of burying him and putting up the headstone.
Another reminder of the transience of all things, another place to see on my list checked off, it is time to turn to material matters, specifically, the quest for sustenance. Walking along the main street leading to the Tiber, via Marmorata, I come across a samuleria offering luscious cheeses, dried fruits, marinated vegetables, and best of all, dried figs from Sicily. It is called Volpetti, and I am putty in the hands of the young Sri Lankan-Italian who serves me. He invites me to sample, then heats up one of the sandwiches I've bought and tells me to slow down and eat it at the counter, rather than walk and eat --a recipe for a bad digestion. The prices are high, but the quality is superb --and with ferragosto weekend looming, I don't want to be caught without provisions and at the mercy of the tourist traps in Trastevere.
One last stop: I head for Lungotevere Testaccio 15, where my friends live. A young woman approaches and tells me she is the granddaughter of the concierge And would I come in. She puts me in the tiny elevator, and takes me to her grandmother, who confirms that my friends live on the floor above. I walk up, see a mezuzah and a shamrock on the door and bet I have come to the right place. I ring the bell, and indeed, I have.
I spend the rest of the afternoon at the playground before crossing Ponte Sublicio and making my way home, a day well spent.
***
On returning home, I realize that my ticket for Tivoli tomorrow is from Tiburtina, not Termini station. Tiburtina is even farther away than Termini, but my train leaves at 10:33 a.m,, so I ought to be able to make it there, between public transport and feet. The train leaves visitors farther from the Villa d'Este than the bus, so I'll have to find my way to the Villa d'Este quickly, as the train arrives at 11:15 a.m., and my ticket is for 11:30 a.m. However, Google Maps says it's an 8 minute walk through the center of Tivoli, so I'm crossing my fingers.
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