Cannons, Carabineri, and Calcio: AS Roma vs. FC Basel

During my whole time here in Rome, I have made it a priority to attend at least one football match at the Stadio Olimpico, where AS Roma and SS Lazio, the two resident calcio teams do battle every Saturday against other teams of the Serie A, Italy's premier football league. As our semester began to wind down, one fixture came to mind: the Derby della Capitale between Roma and Lazio, where an entire city would choose sides and battle for two hours. Sadly, tickets were unsurprisingly steep, but just as hope was waning, tickets for a match between Roma and FC Basel, a Swiss outfit, became available at a reasonable price.

Setting out into the cold Roman night on gameday, it became painfully aware just how far away the Olimpico was. Way north of the Piazza del Popolo, it took us more than an hour to reach the ticket stiles. Apparently, Italians are late for everything except for football matches, because will call had closed exactly at kickoff and our tickets were in the wind. Frantically, we rushed to the entrance and started pleading with the carabineri to let us in. After determining that we were indeed American students with a long standing affection for Roma (the fake jerseys probably helped), our tickets were finally delivered and we rushed to our seats.

Walking up the concourse, I was instantly overwhelmed, standing in one of the cathedrals of world football. 70,000 seats framed an immaculate field, and the songs and chats wafted down from the ultras section. However, fans were not happy: Basel had gone 1-0 up, and Roma was struggling. But as we shuffled through the packed throngs to our seats, fortunes began to turn. Roma began to dominate possession, with Captain Fantastic, Francesco Totti, pulling the strings from midfield. Soon after, Roma had a penalty, as Totti was hauled down in the box after trying to latch onto a crossfield pass. With the whole stadium waiting with bated breath, Totti stepped and placed his penalty in the bottom corner-cue massive celebrations, the aforementioned cannon shot crackling in the night air, and Totti's ubiquitous thumb-sucking celebration. 1-1, parity restored.

With the scores level at the break, the second half opened with Roma and Basel trading weak shots and wasted opportunites. But by the 60th minute, the game had once again tilted in Roma's favor. Urged on by the faithful, we (meaning myself and the three friends who had accompanied me) witnessed a spectacular team move. Receiving a throw-in near the halfway line, Totti flicked the ball with the outside of his right boot to his teammate Simone Perrotta, who took one touch to play it to Daniele de Rossi, the holding midfielder. Surging forward, de Rossi carved Basel's back line open with a defence-splitting pass to his striker, Mirko Vucinic, who blasted a left-footed shot past the helpless keeper and into the left corner of the net. The goal was a prime example of why I love football so much: free, flowing motion, capped off with an exquisite finish to set the Olimpico alight in celebration.

With the lead and qualification to the next round of the Europa League in hand, Roma set up shop to weather the impending Basel storm. Attack after attack crashed to nothing upon Roma's stalwart defensive line, aided by the interventions of an in-form Roma goalkeeper. The final whistle blew, the Olimpico cheered, and we went home happy, having experience easily one of our most memorable nights in the Italian capital.

Florentine Weekend

As the December 17th date crept closer, signaling the end of our time in the Eternal City, the class managed to stave off thoughts of leaving Rome with a weekend sojourn to the north, to visit the epicenter of the Renaissance, Florence. Having traveled to the city with my family two summers earlier, I was prepared for a rehash of previous events, but Brunelleschi's Duomo, Botticelli's Venus, and Michelangelo's David still managed to awe and inspire. After dropping our bags off in the hostel, I trekked back over the Arno to revisit an old friend: the quattro formaggi lasagna at Trattoria Gabriello, right off the Piazza Santa Trinita. It arrived piping hot, full of bubbly gorgonzola and parmesan, with a carafe of house red and crusty bread, and was just as good as the first time we met.

The group reunited to take in the Baptistry, Duomo, and the Museo Opera dell'Duomo all in one very jammed afternoon. After standing among the perfectly ordered symmetry of Arnolfo di Cambio's design and gazing upon Michelangelo's second Pieta, a small contingent broke away to scale the immense dome. Having hiked to the top of Saint Paul's in London and chipping away at my long-standing fear of heights, I felt I could deal my phobia another blow by climbing Brunelleschi's design. After countless stairs and too-small doorways, I emerged from the trapdoor to one of the most vast and breathtaking vistas encountered in my lifetime. The whole of Florence was laid bare for the eye to see, and I even managed to make a call home from the lantern to talk to the parents (probably not good for the phone bill, but why not?). Dinner was spent together with the group, where we helped ourselves to bistecca alla fiorentina: huge slabs of steak, cooked rare, and coated with lemon juice and olive oil. Very simple, but oh-so-good.

The next day began with a trip to Santa Maria del Carmine, to look upon Masaccio's Brancacci Chapel. Often called the "Sistine Chapel of the early Renaissance," it is certainly worthy of that moniker. Brilliant hues burst from the frescoed walls, and Masaccio's early mastery of perspective, chiarascuro, and humanism are all on display, and it is easy to see why Masaccio's work is considered the forerunner of Renaissance technique. The Bargello Museum was next on the itinerary, and we beheld the Bologna's bronze Mercury statue, two crowned lions (my favorite pieces in the museum), and the two competing bronze designs from Brunelleschi and Ghiberti for the Baptistry doors (Ghiberti won). The major highlight, however, was the recently restored David, by Donatello. An extremely curious piece, it is most famous for its extremely boyish and erotic pose, with one hand on his hip in an extremely effeminate manner. I was happy to view the statue, as it had been on the ground in the restoration cycle when I had last come to the museum. After the museum, we again had lunch free to ourselves, and three of us went to La Maremma, another favorite place of mine from my last visit. We shared plates of Tuscan salami, bruschetta with three different kinds of olive oil, after which we moved onto the pasta. Bucatini with duck sauce, lemon penne with sausage, and risotto with shaved truffle and gorgonzola were enjoyed by all.

Up next was the Uffizi, the mammoth museum packed to the gills with every Renaissance masterpiece imaginable. Everyone makes a beeline for the Botticelli room, and although such an action is certainly warranted, I lingered in the very first room, which contains three massive altar paintings of Madonna and Child, done by Duccio, Cimabue, and Giotto. Made with tempera (egg yolk mixed with pigment), viewers can see three different art styles depicting the same subject within the same room: Cimabue's Byzantine tradition, Duccio's Siennese influence, and Giotto's move towards the early Renaissance.

As our time in Florence drew to a close, we had time to step into Santa Maria Novella, seconds away from the train station. Notable for its Giotto crucifix and immense side chapels, we came for Massacio's Holy Trinity. Located along the left-hand wall, the fresco, like Massacio's work in the Brancacci chapel, demonstrates masterful use and understanding of perspective and foreshortening. The pyramidal form, with God as the pinnacle, is a perfectly ordered work of Renaissance style, and was an excellent cap to the weekend's activities.