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Thursday, July 30, 2009

Random notes from an atheist in Rome.

I've been spending time in the evenings wondering what I might to with my summer vacation this year. I'm supposed to be on vacation even now, but there are some things that keep me around town. I'll take off for parts unknown to me as soon as some of that stuff clears up. In the meantime I was leafing through my old journals, and I thought I'd write up some snippets from a trip to Rome some years ago.
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In St Peter's, April 2001
Inside Saint Peter's is like an indoor Boulevard of Popes. Huge statues. How strong, how noble, how mighty and just, these popes. Surrounded by angels and children, they are eternally stomping serpents and comforting the sick, larger than life.
It's an amazing place. The marble. The gilt. The tremendous amount of labor. It makes me wonder - Does the Church celebrate God? Or itself? I thought the Catholic mission was to be saved, to follow Christ, to succor the sick and aid the poor. But I never did really get my catechism.
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Taking the bus in Rome can be a real adventure. There are no maps. Well, hardly any. For each bus that stops at a stop, its next stops are listed. Which is alright if you either know Rome really well or if you want an obviously-named stop, like 'Coliseum' or 'Pyramid'. Otherwise, you can easily find yourself deep in some residential neighborhood with no landmarks to grab onto. And if where you want to go doesn't happen to be on any of the bus routes that stop at the stop you have found, well, good luck.
The tramway is the nicest way to get across Rome. It's fast and fairly clean and not underground. To find out where it will take you, just go and find out.
I have a map of Rome that has about half the bus stops marked on it, and none of the tram lines. It's one of those maps that tries to show everything, but in an easily portable format. So naturally it's all reduced to such miniscule type that the printers couldn't even handle it.
However unclear the list of stops might be, at least there is one. It is, however, all you get. There is no indication as to when the bus might come around to whisk your weary feet onward. Perhaps a precise timetable is too much to expect, but there's not even an 'every 15 minutes' or 'every hour' noted. Maybe there's no service at all on Tuesdays. Maybe the last bus of the day just went by. You just get to the stop and wait. The bus might come soon; it might come late. If you don't feel like waiting, you can walk. Or get a cheap eastern-european car like everyone else.
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You cannot go to the Vatican gardens. The Vatican invites you to St Peter's, and to tour the Sistine Chapel and attached museum for the price of 18,000 lira (about $9 back in 2001), but otherwise there are rather serious guards to keep you out of their city.
I was looking forward to strolling around in the greenery, taking a break from the crowds and the buildings. On my map it's quite large, with several roads through it. I imagine lawns and flowers and statuary. And benches to relax on while having a couple of cookies and the last of my bottle of water on this hot summer day. Perhaps there are such places in the Vatican garden, I don't know.
Coming out of the museum, I continued my way clockwise around Vatican City, thinking there would be some gate, some stairway, some way in. The wall is impressive. It's a retaining wall encircling the hill, not a fence; and the place did used to be a fortress, after all.
But it still is.
The pope needs his privacy.
But all that?
Well, they run the whole Catholic Church from here. It's a big thing. They've got acres of offices, and probably barracks to house all those serious church guys, why shouldn't they keep their garden private? And don't forget, terrorism has been on the rise everywhere - it's probably not such a bad idea to keep the fortress.
I am Kept Out.
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That was in 2001, when I spent three days in Rome. When next I went to Rome I was deeply grateful of having made that first, footsore visit. I mean, I walked everywhere. Miles and miles. Breaking down and taking the bus only happened twice, to get to and from the apartment of a friend of a friend way out in a southern suburb for one night.
So when I landed in Rome in 2005 with two American friends and a rather large (certainly for Rome!, probably tiny by American standards, at least it was painted RED, that's what I liked about it) van, I thanked goodness that I recognised this plaza and that square, and had a sense that our destination was rather to the northwest of wherever we were. Because no matter how hard it is to get around in Rome by public transport, driving it is many times worse.
We had lucked into a parking space not too far from the Coliseum, about halfway up the Forum. Finished with those sights, we wanted to get to the Vatican. Easy. There's a major boulevard going more or less straight there from this one huge roundabout. At the roundabout, alas, the markings were for those who knew their way already, and being surrounded by Roman drivers I didn't have the nerve to risk our insurance deductable by cutting across the maniacs headed my way. I missed the exit. I figured I'd just take the next one, and work my way back. Yeah. I found myself in a maze of one-lane, one-way streets, often blocked by trucks unloading entire loads of goods. It took us the better part of an hour, but we made it to larger streets at last. (And, it should be said, this way my companions did see the Trevi fountain, and the Obelisk, and many other wonders we had been resigned to missing because of our tight schedule. Sorry about spreading car exhaust around so many outdoor cafés! I swear, we could have reached out the window and helped ourselves to cappucinos there was so little clearance.) Lesson: if you want to get there, just go around the roundabout an extra turn. If you're there to see the details, walk.
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I loved Rome; it's the most interesting city I've ever been to. I love Italy. Arezzo, Florence, Pisa, Siena, even tourist-ridden Venice and crowded, dirty Naples; I've never been anywhere in Italy I didn't like. Well, maybe except for the garbage and dirt that accumulates. I gotta go back!
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