This week we spent some hard time in the centro storico observing firsthand how the beginning of the imperial age in Rome changed the topography of the city. Yet again, I've discovered that many of Rome's great monuments were built on a scale that I previously could not have imagined. I was especially floored by the magnitude of Augustus' Forum, which we had the special privilege of viewing from ground level on Tuesday. And really, the remains of the original structure are pretty scant -- I can't imagine what the intact structure would have looked like. I've tried to really make myself use my imaginative powers this week to envision the sites we've visited in all their original grandeur, and it's often felt like a bit of a stretch. This was especially true when we went to view several of the houses on the Palatine, originally sumptuously painted with elaborate frescoes, to which we were lucky enough to get special access. The remains of the frescoes, some of the best extant, are stunning in themselves, but I struggle to picture the total effect of an entire aristocratic villa full of these paintings, fleshed out with rich furnishings filling the rooms and luxuriously dressed patricians going about their extravagant routines. I'm always grateful when we find in a museum an attempted reconstruction of a room, work of art, etc.: they usually seem a little cheesy and lack secure historical accuracy, but they go a long way toward helping me get my mind around the foreign culture I'm studying.
On Wednesday, we saw very successfully deployed another technique for highlighting the classical-ness of the classical world, so to speak: starkly juxtaposing ancient and modern. We took the metro out of the center to the Centrale Montemartini museum, part of the Capitoline Museums, which is housed in Rome's first electrical power plant, re-vamped for the purpose. Once inside, we were immediately jarred by the sight of high classical sculptures displayed right in front of the power plant's original machinery -- heavy, dark metal, bolts, gauges and all. The exhibition was originally intended to be temporary, but it was such a hit that after its 1997 debut it's been a permanent fixture, for good reason. We got an excellent lecture tour of the museum by Eric Varner, of Emory University, who pointed out several interesting examples of statues of emperors re-carved into other likenesses due to damnatio memoriae, or memory sanctions on bad guys.
After a few days in the city, we were already for a trip out of town yesterday. We hit the road for Terracina and Sperlonga, two beautiful little towns a couple of hours South along the Tyrrhenian Coast. There we visited the site of a villa of the emperor Tiberius, known to have some bizarre predilections when it came to entertainment and his personal life. The villa includes an amazing grotto right next to the beach, where Tiberius had set up a floating platform for dinner parties and several colossal statue groups inside. After taking a look at the grotto and the remains of the statues, we hit the beach. The water was much clearer, and I managed to stay sea urchin-free!
Outside of our daily lectures and trips, the major event of the week was having dinner at the American Academy. As students of the summer school, we're entitled to sign up for meals there whenever we like, but they're not cheap, so it was a special occasion for our whole group to stay on for dinner after a lecture and reception. We were all pretty excited to meet some of the fellows, and I made a special point of branching out from our group and sitting next to strangers for just this reason. Unfortunately, my plan went terribly awry. I won't dwell on the experience here, but take my word for it, it's a really good story. In short, I met three extraordinarily rude people, spent most of the meal silent, and didn't get much food for my 21 euros. Today, however, I had a very positive lunchtime experience at the AA that went a long way toward restoring my faith in the possibility of successful academics also being decent human beings. I talked with a professor who was extremely generous in describing his research project to me and even -- this is big -- seemed interested in me in return.
To end with a more positive contrast: last night, when I went out to meet my friend Roberta for gelato at the Trevi fountain after dark, I realized fully for the first time how different Rome by day is from Rome by night. As I walked around the neighborhood of the Pantheon while waiting for my friend, it seemed that everyone had come out of hiding. During the day, there are plenty of people around, to be sure, but in the blazing sun, everyone is visibly exhausted to one extent or another, and even at the most amazing sites, there's an atmosphere of endurance of the heat that even the biggest, coldest gelato can't quite melt away. At night, the piazzas and narrow streets are full of people leisurely strolling and sitting out at cafes, taking their sweet time with their food, drink and conversation. There's a distinct festive atmosphere that palpably springs from shared relief at the setting of the sun. Not only the people but the buildings of Rome take on a completely different aspect after dark, glowing warmly in the street light and revealing all their hidden charms to passersby who can afford remove their hats and sunglasses and lift their eyes, the moon having replaced the blinding sun. I've got to see more of this nighttime city -- I've usually been too exhausted or caught up with course work to get out in the evening, but my time is precious here, and I don't want to waste a minute I could spend wandering around the city after dark.
I've taken tons of pictures this week, and I'm still working on getting them online. In the meantime, I've put up a batch from last week, a bit belatedly, here:
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| Rome: Week 2 |
Happy weekend, and enjoy!
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