|Stone pines, Pinus pinea.|
The first thing I noticed during our one day in Rome—other than the crushing push of other tourists and the really annoying street vendors—was the pine trees.
They’re emblematic of Italian landscapes so it was refreshing to my mind’s eye when they finally made their grand appearance.
[The beauty of the trees inspired the symphonic poem Pines of Rome (Pini di Roma) by Ottorino Respighi nearly 100 years ago (1924). The piece depicts different pine trees in Rome during different times of the day. I have to admit I’m rather fond of the work and if you’re familiar with the Disney film Fantasia 2000 you’ve already heard one of the movements.]
|One side of Il Monumento Nazionale a Vittorio Emanuele II. (Note the lovely pine tree.)|
One of my husband’s favorite buildings is considered a controversial eyesore to many other Italians. I thought it was pretty, but I didn’t have many other pieces of architecture to compare it to since I really only saw it and a few other sites on our way to the Vatican. At that time, I didn’t fully understand its context, but I do now.
Considering that this is the building built and dedicated to honor Victor Emmanuel II and the unification (Risorgimento) of Italy, I understand the issues involved after having really thought about it. I won’t go into detail, but the building is really fascinating. There are so many angles to analyze it from and that’s honestly what I ended up taking away from it. Being complicated and controversial is honestly kind of a good thing in Italy so I say let the building do what it does best.
|Walking alongside the Tiber River.|
|Inside St. Peter’s Basilica. The gold ceiling reminded me of home and the arm popping out of the wall added some drama. It was beautiful. I’ll give it that.|
Though I’m not a practicing or even a confirmed Catholic, my life is Catholic-by-culture. My father is very devout and so is my mother-in-law so it was fun for John and I to be naughty Catholic school kids together. (They both expect that from us at this point.)
Once we were there I was uncomfortable amongst the tourists and found all of their pushing in line, cameras, talking loudly, and chatting on their phones (though you’re not supposed to be doing so) incredibly disrespectful.
It felt a lot like a zoo that day but I guess it was the beginning of Easter week.
|It was Good Friday when we visited and these were real palm fronds out front on St Peter’s columns.|
|At least John and I tried on some ‘tough guy’ faces while loitering at the entrance.|
Overall, the Vatican kind of underwhelmed me—and yes, of course I feel guilty now.
I knew I should have picked the botanical garden. (**Just joking!**)
|The view from our hotel room. The rooftop garden in the distance had a tomato jungle growing in it.|
Our walk back to the hotel from Vatican City was a physically painful one for me. (I guess I could have taken a taxi, but I was trying to save money.) My feet and legs had exploded by this point and my swelling disease was throwing a serious fit. Oops!
I was hoping Pope Francis would cruise past us in his Ford Focus and we’d catch a ride with him to our hotel because he’d taken pity on me—but no dice.
To make the time pass I had fun spinning old religious yarns in my head about pilgrims. Despite the pain, that walk was good for me because I was in Rome after all and in the moment. It was a space in life, and in this world, I’d never really lived in and that felt really good. I think I grew a bit more as a person during that short-lived day despite the difficulties—or maybe because of them. That’s so often the case now isn’t it?
Later, after resting, we had an amazing dinner, and of course I didn’t take photos. My mind was yet a bit wild.
I wanted to add though that the art deco era Atlantico Hotel (just a block or so from the train station) was a great place to stay and I highly recommend it. The rooftop restaurant of its sister hotel (Hotel Mediterraneo) was more than outstanding. After a long day it was such a treat to eat dinner while overlooking the Vatican and the Colosseum.
Thoughts of Fellini filled my head—but not for long. I’d look over at John and he was clearly having a difficult time containing himself.
In the morning we’d leave for Venice and this was exciting for my husband. He could not wait to show me the region of his people. I was nervous about this, but curious. I was also terrified of more tourists. (If this trip taught me anything, it’s that I’m not fond of the masses. I just get rattled. This never used to happen, but I think years of illness have really made it worse. That was a difficult realization. I’d changed and not noticed.)
It saddened me to have seen such a tiny sliver of Rome, but I hope to return to it someday.
But Venice, we’ll it’s just a different creature all together…