Hills and Catacombs

On to the third week of my Roman "holiday," and the museum trips are getting more and more numerous. The whole class took a tour of the Capitoline Museum, next to the Piazza Venezia and one of the "seven" hills of Rome. Housing mostly sculpture, the Capitoline contains such pieces as the iconic She-Wolf, the Dying Gaul, and the Marble Faun (which Nathaniel Hawthorne took as inspiration for his book of the same name). It was one of those museums where there's simply too much stuff; there were around four rooms filled with over a hundred busts of Roman dignitaries. Still, it was an interesting antithesis to the truly postmodern Ara Pacis museum.

Yesterday the ten members of the St. Peter's history class took a drive up the old Appian Way to delve into the Catacombs of San Sebastiano, an important early Christian site for its use as a temporary tomb for the bodies of the Apostles Paul and Peter. We tunneled deep into the necropolis, and enjoyed a truly original experience. I hate to use the Indiana Jones reference again, but it really felt like a giant boulder was going to roll towards us at any moment. There were remnants of ancient frescoes, fully preserved sarcophagi dating from the 1st century, and a set of immaculate family mausoleums with the pottery shards still housed inside. Although I had to stoop the entire way (I guess everybody was 5'6 at the time), it was refreshing to view a Roman treasure that had not been trampled by the tourist horde.

Wait..we have to study?

These were the exact words uttered by my peers as we awoke on Monday morning. The first weekend, devoid of any papers or exams, was what we expected every day to be like. It was only when we shuffled into the Pantheon Institute that we faced the cold reality that we were actually here for business, and not for pleasure. Syllabi were handed out, books were purchased (my wallet went into cardiac arrest at the amount), and presentations were assigned. Within the first week, all of us began to slowly assimilate into Roman daily life. Supermarkets, traffic, and locals were all navigated with equal amounts of trepidation and confidence. Instead of culture shock, many of us felt wallet shock, as the burden of daily expenses made us acutely aware of our spending (probably a good thing in the long run). It was immediately made clear that cooking at home was infinitely more sensible than going out for dinner, as a meal for six in our dome cost as little as 3 euros.

Our first class trip took us to the Villa Giulia, the National museum of Etruscan art. Originally the summer retreat of Pope Julius II, the Villa Giulia now houses an extensive collection of Etruscan art, ranging from the Apollo of Veii to the Eurphronios Krater, an immaculate vase that the Met paid a million dollars for to highlight their ancient art collection. Following negotiations with Italy (the vase was stolen by tombaroli, nastier versions of Indiana Jones) the vase was returned and now rests in the Giulia. It was one of the more interesting museums I've been to, what with it being the Pope's residence and all.

Up next was the Ara Pacis of Augustae, and the subsequent museum it is housed in. Literally meaning "altar of peace," the structure was commissioned by Augustus to commemorate his reign of peace along with his return from campaigns in Gaul. Constructed completely of white marble, the altar is decorated with several friezes that borrow from the panels on the Parthenon, another example of the Roman affection for Greek design. The altar itself is housed in a building done by Richard Meier, an American architect and proponent of the Minimalist modern style. The clash between old and new is readily apparent, and Romans have both hated and loved the new structure since it was built in 2006.

Il Prima ora in Roma

Ciao, tutti!

If my first bar experience in Rome is indicative of my entire time in the Eternal City, then my semester will be a loud, messy, and altogether humorous one. As the twenty or so Kenyon College students got up from the Fiumicino Airport bar and shuffled towards the bus, a friend of mine was unfortunate enough to knock over a table laden with cappuccinos, glasses, and plates. As the items tumbled to the Fiumicino floor and red faces began to emerge, I could only clutch my oversized travel bags and hope that Italians would have a harder time identifying me as a clumsy tourist by the end of December. For one semester, I leave the comforting confines of Gambier, Ohio and get plunked down in the heart of Rome, where I will attempt to ingest as much pasta, gelato, and culture as I can (in that order).

After slowly navigating the streets with the rest of our backpack-wearing gaggle, we finally reached the safety of 30 Santa Maria dell' Anima, a former convent that served as our housing. We lugged our suitcases up five floors (we will have the most well-sculpted legs at Kenyon next semester) and piled into our various rooms. Dumping our things, we got our cameras and maps, ready to stride out into one of the jewels of Europe-but had a nap instead.