Hello again everyone.
Everythings been going really great over here in Italy. I just completed an assignment for one of my classes that I'd like to share with you all. It's just a few journal entries, and theyre pretty long. But they can give you some of the highlights of whats been happening over here.
Everything's been going well though. I am now officially on spring break, and am leaving for Amsterdam first thing tomorrow morning. After a few days there with everyone, I'll be returning to Italy and checking out the northern region of the country for a few days. It should be a really good time.
Zack Henry
Journal Entries
Entry 1
Date: Thursday 3 February 2011
It’s easy to get turned around walking through the narrow, cobblestone streets of Rome. The buildings on either side of these ancient streets jut straight up, obscuring nearly all vision except for what’s in front of you and a sliver of sky above. The turning and twisting streets, a relic from ancient Rome, all connect with each other, and if one were to walk long enough he would either find his way, or find and old ruin or church or something of that nature.
I was walking the streets of Rome, not knowing exactly where I was headed but knowing that I would get there eventually. As I was walking through the cobblestone streets, I turned a corner and lost my breath as I saw the Pantheon for the first time. The giant building is placed in the middle of a network of the aforementioned streets, in the middle of Piazza Rotunda. To just stumble upon this 2000-year-old building is brings about a unique feeling indeed.
The powerful Corinthian pillars out front are massive, and give the building a strong, sturdy look from the outside. The outside of the massive dome reiterates this appearance. The huge domed building looks like it could stand there for another 2000 years without any problem.
As I approached the front door, walking through the pillars, I got my first glimpse inside. At this point my heart was racing, I had seem photos of this place but to be in its physical presence is another feeling completely. As I entered the large doorway, through the two huge metal doors that were held open, my breath escaped me. I looked up without thinking, my mind immediately drawn to the immenseness of the dome. The massive dome dwarfs everything and everyone in the building, just as the designers planned. Each alcove carved into the dome is perfect, precision that I would be impressed with if done by a machine in modern times. The fact that it was done by hand near the beginning of the Common Era is almost unfathomable to me.
One of the most striking features of the Pantheon’s dome, aside from its size, is the hole in the top of it. It is referred to as an ocular hole, meaning that it is a round, eyelike opening. Right where the cornerstone should be, the apex of the dome, there is nothing. There’s just a perfect circle that opens the dome to the heavens above.
Not being an architect, I know not the mathematical details and structural calculations that make the oculus possible. But even as a student of English, and understanding the concept of a dome, this architectural feature is extremely impressive. Like with the alcoves, whose precision was required for aesthetic purposes, the precision of the large dome and the smaller round hole at the top are structurally necessary. It is the perfection of the circle above that supports the massive dome. The fact that people built this with their hands so long ago, before much of the building technology that we have now existed, is mind stretching. Not only did these people build this, they built it perfectly, perfectly enough for me to be able to stand under the dome 2000 years later. It makes me wonder if our buildings be standing in 2000 years.
While inside my thoughts led to the contrast of the beauty of this building and that of a church, or a sculpture. Roman churches are breathtaking just as the Pantheon, but the source of their beauty comes from the intricacies of the ceilings, the gold inlay and the glass chandeliers. The beauty from a sculpture comes from its attention to detail and its realism, the appearance of real things carved from raw stone by human hands. In contrast, the inside of the Pantheon’s dome is stark in comparison to that of a church. It doesn’t resemble anything in our natural world with perfect detail. But the sheer size of the dome, and its perfectly spaced alcoves instill a feeling of awe in all those who gaze upwards at it. It’s almost brutish in its strength, but the precision of it all gives it a powerful elegance.
After spending a few moments inside, awestruck by my surroundings, I walk back out into the Piazza Rotunda. I am overwhelmed by a feeling of calmness, and don’t look around the piazza much. I make two left turns, and continue on my involuntary tour of the narrow, Roman streets.
Entry 2
Date: Saturday 5 February 2011
This day began with a mission to go to the famous Villa Borghese in northern Rome. My roommate and I were supposed to meet up with some friends in the huge park, and planned on exploring. We became lost on our way there, and took a bus a few too many stops. As we were walking from where we finally escaped the bus, we noticed a large crowd of people all walking in the same direction. I remembered that there was a rugby game scheduled for the day. Shortly after this realization we also discovered that we were right next to the stadium where the game would be played, and this river of people were all of the fans. It didn’t take long for us to decide thereafter that our plans had changed for the day. We would go to the rugby game.
The opponents were Ireland and Italy. The event was the Six Nations Tournament, a prestigious European rugby tournament. As we entered the stadium, the excitement could be felt in the air. There seemed to be as many Ireland fans as there were Italian fans. This is a result of the disparity between the popularity of the sport in each of the nations. Rugby is very prominent in Ireland, and has quite the following. In contrast, Italy has only had a national team for 10 years, and the popularity of the sport pales in comparison to the passion felt for soccer.
Once we made it to our seats, we introduced ourselves to the gentleman and his wife sitting in front of us. They were Irish, and they came to Rome to watch their team play. My roommate and I had a great time with our new Irish friend, Gary. He taught us the rules of the sport, and thoroughly answered any questions we had. At one point in the conversation, we learned that our Irish friend, Gary, had been to California and had been to our school back in Santa Barbara. That gave us all a good trip talking about back home, and getting a visitor’s perspective on it.
The weather on this Saturday was beautiful, with a cool temperature but with radiant, warm sunshine. It was brisk as a good winter day should be.
Right before the game began, the fans sang the anthem for each team. For both the Irish and Italian songs, fans of both teams sang in unison. It was quite the scene hearing all of those people singing the same song in a stadium. As the game began, the crowd quieted down, except for the occasional reaction to events in the game.
The game ended as a real nail-biter. Ireland came back at the last second to defeat the Italians. If Italy had held onto it, it would have been their first time defeating the Irish. But no such luck. We left after the game was over, and walked home to tell our classmates about why we never met them at the park.
Entry 3
Date: Thursday 3 March 2011
The Keats Shelly Museum in Rome made for a fantastic morning during my stay here. I went with my class and met in front the steps in Piazza Spagna, right next to the museum. As we entered, we scaled the narrow, winding staircase to the second floor, where the poet John Keats lived during his stay in Rome. It is the place where he came to die from tuberculosis. We reached the floor of the museum after a few flights of stairs. We entered a room with its walls covered by bookshelves, nearly from the floor to the ceiling. There were thousands of old books on the dark wooden shelves. The wood of the cabinets was accentuated by alternating maroon, grey, and black tiles on the floor. The room was softly lit with a modest chandelier hanging in the middle, and accent lighting shining upwards from above the cabinets.
There were display cases placed throughout the room containing handwritten letters from such poets as Oscar Wilde and Walt Whitman. Seeing the handwriting of these two writers, knowing that they actually wrote it with their hands, really got my mind racing. In a separate display there were locks of hair from famous poets, even from Keats himself.
Through a doorway out of the book room was the room in which Keats lived and died. The interior was starkly decorated, to model how it looked when the poet deceased. While inside, I looked up at the ceiling. This, I thought, was the last thing he saw. This is what John Keats was looking at in his final moments. My thoughts were running wild.
We departed shortly after and proceeded to scale the Spanish steps and move on to other sites. But for the rest of the day, the Keats museum stuck with me. I suspect that because it was the place where he actually lived, wrote, slept, and died, the impact of the experience was increased greatly. Not knowing what to expect going into this place, I was greatly satisfied with the experience.
Entry 4
Date: Saturday 5 March 2011
The long tradition of Carnevale has been adhered to in Venice for as long as people have been recognizing lent. The festivities that occur there are world-known and recognized as a great time for everyone. This year graced me with the luxury to visit the city during the magical weekend of Carnevale. The scene unfolding in the streets of Venice during the days and night of the festival are something to behold indeed. The weather during my visit was wonderful; the clear Venetian air was fresh to all who shared its breath. We reached the city on Saturday morning and roamed the streets all day. We came across many street musicians, and at one point, a highlight of the day, a full on band. These four gentlemen had with them two saxophones, a guitar, and percussion. Boy those guys could play. The crowd around the band was filled with good feelings, enjoying the sunshine and the nearby waterway.
The canals in Venice are truly remarkable. Replacing the roads, they make the city of Venice ultra unique. The lack of cars, and everything that comes with them, gives the city a feeling like nowhere else. There are no noises from the engines, no smog, no traffic. It’s all walking and boats. Where there would be roads there are instead waterways. Instead of a highway, there’s the Grand Canal. Motorboats, water taxis, and the traditional gondolas make use of this wide canal, with pedestrian bridges spanning across it every few hundred meters.
As my group and I meandered through the streets of Venice during the daytime, we took in the great feelings being put off by everyone in the city. Most were dressed up, wearing every sort of costume imaginable. You could sense that everyone was ready to party, to have a good time in the coming nights before the end of the celebration, Ash Wednesday. The outfits that the people wear really contribute to everyone’s happiness level, the masks are supposed to hide your identity so that what you do doesn’t make it back to your reputation. An important factor to consider in the night’s proceedings.
Piazza San Marco was the final destination for our group of six. We deliberately made our way to that end of town, but knew that we had several hours before the piazza would come to life. We wandered the narrow streets of Venice for hours, crossing bridge after bridge. There were crowds on the street, people who had come from everywhere imaginable. All the shops were busy, the shopkeepers busily serving gelato, masks, cigarettes, whatever they were selling. The vivid colors of the Venetian buildings seemed to add to the warmth of the sunshine and the freshness of the air.
As the day began to fall into night, my group and I made our way to San Marco, the center of the Carnevale festivities. As we were walking there we realized that we were in a river of people, all making the same turns and all heading to the same place. When our part of the river finally made it to San Marco, all of our breaths seemed to escape us. The decoration and the activity of the piazza are things that I will never forget. There was a giant stage built, with loud music ringing out over the crowd. The square was filled with people, most of whom were dressed in elaborate costumes. Camera’s flashed everywhere, the spotlights from the stage reached up into the darkening sky. This was the point, standing in Piazza San Marco, in which I fully realized that this was Carnevale, and we were in Venice for it.
Entry 5
Date: Friday 11 March 2011
The sprawling mass of civilization that is called Rome has stood for upwards of 2500 years. It is a chaotic, crowded, ancient city. Coming from California, living in Rome is a definite change of scenery. Being constantly surrounded by all the marble and concrete that makes up the city of Rome has made me realize how great it is to be surrounded by hills and grass instead. The Villa Borghese in Rome is a natural retreat from the urban commotion. The enormous park spans 148 acres, and is peppered with fountains and statues. Within its borders are the famous Galleria Borghese, a zoo, and countless trees and hedges.
The day seemed to be made for the park. The weather was perfect as my roommate and I entered the park via the entrance near Piazza Popolo. We reached the paved road that runs through the park and threw down our skateboards. As I pushed myself forward I felt the cool spring air against my face. The smell of trees and dirt pleased my senses, senses that have encountered only city for too long. I could feel the texture of the street below me through my skateboard. Pavement feels different through a skateboard.
As we moved through the park, we began to notice that different areas of the park have different feels. We observed that the types and layout of trees throughout different regions give the park a variety of environments. One area will feel like an unorganized patch of land, with large trees covering grassy ground, whereas another such area will feel like a well-groomed garden. This effect gives the park a fresh feeling where ever you explore.
As my companion and I skate, I notice that we are the only ones riding skateboards. It seems that we brought our California ways with us. Only one stranger, a Greek man who is the same age as us, approaches us. He’s mounted on a bicycle, and is curious about our boards. We invite him to ride down a hill with us, so that we can show him instead of tell him. He agrees, and we have a few great runs with our new friend. After enlightening the Greek on our Californian style, we part ways with him. He rides his bike away, and we push our skateboards in the other direction, further into the park.
Architect Flaminio Ponzio built the Villa Borghese in 1605. He based his work off of the sketches of Cardinal Scipione Borghese. The Villa was originally Borghese’s vacation home of sorts outside of the city of Rome. The Cardinal decided to turn his private vineyard into an extensive network of gardens. The park was redesigned in the 19th century, and in 1903 the commune of Rome purchased the grounds and gave it to the public for their use.
There are people everywhere throughout the park. Many Romans are walking their dogs, couples are lying in the grass, and families and other groups are zooming around on their rented bicycles or Segways. The feeling in the park is a peaceful one, the cherry blossoms are beginning to bloom and the wildflowers are beginning to grow. The winter dormancy of the trees is nearly over, as the weather is getting increasingly warmer. In the coming months many of the trees throughout the Villa Borghese will bear leaves, and the wildflowers will emerge, and the people of Rome will flock to the peaceful park to escape the crowded, chaotic city that they call home.
