I was looking through my photo files. There are 1000s of images that never see the light of day. And I found one of my Rome shots which inspired me to go wandering through old blogs I had written about Rome. I found this which was lovely because I have been missing Rome.
I remember falling madly and passionately in love with Rome. I had gone there expecting to be disappointed by a myth fallen on hard times but found something else ...
Rome was a city that was more than I imagined a city could be. It was a mix of ancient and beautiful, of sophistication, and of real people who wanted to chat.
I stayed on Campo de' Fiori, in a hotel with the same name. The entrance was stunning, it felt like stepping into a story. Outside, there was a daily market, there in the square,where I could buy flowers and food. There was a superb little bookshop where I found a good book and, on another corner, a delicatessen with wine and cheese for my evening because ... I was in Rome and one must have a nice chianti, with good cheese, while reading that new book.
It was a city of angels. Bernini and his students had sculpted a series of them on Ponte Sant'Angelo in the 17th century. There was the arrogant angel by Raffaello da Montelupo. I loved his 1544 rendering of the Archangel Michael. And Peter Anton Verschaffelt's rooftop Michael, sculpted 1752.
Angels and archways perhaps. I felt so comfortable with the architecture there. I spent hours, wandering alone in Castel Sant'Angelo, fascinated by the history and feeling found in that ancient place. It was originally built as a mausoleum for Hadrian, then converted into a fortress for the pope and Vatican City. It even served time as a prison. I found magical, to be wandering the old hallways, or simply sitting in the sun trying to comprehend the fact that Rome's River Tiber was below me.
I had lunch with Paolo, a friend of a friend, and we wandered the city for a while. He told me his stories of the city he loved. And, after work, an old friend took me home to dinner, with his family on the back of his scooter, And his wife cooked an exquisite Roman feast, introducing me to mozzarella di bufala and prosciutto, veal, artichokes and chard ... and much conversation. Later, there was a midnight tour of Rome, on the way back to the hotel.
The next day, I bought a painting from a different Paolo, in Piazza Navone ... the place where the artists gather. He took me off to a cafe for coffee and we talked for a long time. He had been a history teacher until his art had become self-supporting. We talked of movies, books, writers, societies, children and life. His painting, the painting I bought, was a titled 'Diving into Life' ... it seemed like a painting I had to have.
I loved Piazza San Pietro, in Vatican City, and bought the ticket that allowed me to climb the 300+ steps to the cupola on top of the Basilica. You reach the top and voila, there is Rome, far below in all of her beauty.
Inside the Basilica, the sculptures fell outside of my ability to describe them. I stared for a long time, perhaps hoping to absorb the beauty via some kind of osmosis. Michelangelo's Pieta was stunning but Bernini's monument to Alexander VII was almost overwhelming. Somehow, Bernini had made heavy red marble seem like soft velvet.
I loved Rome.
The Pantheon took my breath when I turned a corner and found it unexpectedly there in front of me. The Trevi Fountain, even the Spanish Steps at midnight, all but abandoned.
I have to go back, and soon, there is no other solution.
