Non Basta Una Vita

A post about a trip taken two months ago is probably grounds for some sort of New Year’s resolution regarding timeliness...

Slotted between a day trip to Canterbury and a weekend in Germany was a week spent enjoying the sun and splendour of Italy. My sister Suz(anna) joined Tom and I for this voyage to central and southern Italy. I don’t think we could have seen nor done more. And, if two day jaunts have me churning out 1500 words (Tom is always asking about my word count = 8), a tale of epic proportions surely waits below.

Italy was seven full, glorious days of sun and heat, and us often overdressed, watch tans, beautiful blue skies, fleeting daylight hours (post-‘fall back’) and early rising to make the most of them, free* city buses, second-class trains, dragging around my exhausted and famished travel companions, jugs of wine on the table, catching the end of the sidewalk terrace season, perfectly cooked pasta (al dente!), personal records for pizza consumed, our first hostel-dorm experiences, sleeping after and rising before our dorm-mates, whispering and preparing in the dark, speaking a mere ten Italian phrases and otherwise being spoiled by English-speaking Italians, a love-hate relationship with audio-guides, endless conservation projects, piazzas, holy relics and Renaissance masterworks. Italy was intense.
*Free because no one checks... (it started out innocently enough on our first ride when we couldn’t find a ticket stand and then the ticket machine at the stop was broken and then the bus driver didn’t sell tickets or seem to care that we had boarded the bus anyway...)

We arrived in the Italian capital late on a Saturday night via RyanAir (rant allowance used up in Germany post) and quickly realized why we use the Italian word for graffiti. Some pizza-priced-by-weight to go and it was lights out in our dorm shared with a McGill alumnus/Torontonian, another Torontonian and a Chinese traveller.

Sunday was our day for the free, outdoor sights of Roma. After a struggle amidst jostling crowds just to stay on the subway platform, we tunnelled our way to Piazza del Popolo. This vast public space is inhabited by an obelisk, twin churches and Santa Maria del Popolo. In the dimly lit interiors of the latter, we encountered the first of many religious images dedicated to skulls and skeletal grim reapers juxtaposed with paintings by Raphael. From there, we wandered through palm trees up to Pincio Hill – an urban park unexpectedly unpaved – for views across the city. On the Spanish Steps, we were sure we witnessed a pickpocket readying the fake-baby ruse. We experienced the undulating, baroque drama of tormented architect Borromini’s San Carlo alle Quattro Fontane. We braved the gruesome chapels of Santa Maria della Concezione adorned with the skeletons of thousands of Capuchin monks – phalangeal chandeliers! We arrived upon the ferociously alive Trevi Fountain via narrow, unassuming streets and found it in a small square; we threw a coin in to ‘ensure our return to the city’ and then sampled our first tastes of addictive gelato. At the iconic Pantheon, we were spellbound at the sight of the pristine dome – the rest was almost superfluous.

Lunch time. We found a restaurant on a side street off of Piazza Navona and learned too late that an asterisk next to a menu offering means ‘prepared from frozen goods’ - Italians take fresh pasta seriously! We then perused the market around Bernini’s Fountain of the Four Rivers. Before crossing the Tiber, we passed through Il Campo and recalled its dark history of Inquisition executions. We circled around Bramante’s model Tempietto a few times before actually finding it within San Pietro in Montorio’s cloister. We strolled through the narrow, meandering streets of quiet Trastevere, below hanging laundry, in the fading daylight. Finally, we supped leisurely on a terrace and only had to huddle around the candle flame for warmth after the first course - fresh delights all around this time! We caught our first free bus back to the hostel and zoned out.

And really, we saw so much more that day – more than I can list and more than we understood. We were in the Eternal City, epicenter of one of the greatest historical empires and home to the people who left traces of themselves in every corner of Europe.

A whole day was dedicated (and necessary) for the Vatican. It was a sea of people, and inescapable lines and waiting. The world’s smallest independent state is a square kilometer surrounded by massive walls open only at Piazza di San Pietro. We entered through airport-like security to visit the Vatican Museums and experience collections attesting to the enormous wealth of the Catholic Church. We chose the intermediate-length(?!) itinerary: we saw Egyptian mummies (a first for me), Greek, Roman and Etruscan antiquities, the Tapestry Gallery, the striking Map Gallery, former papal apartments painted with frescoes by Raphael, ... and the circuit culminated hours later in the Sistine Chapel. Quiet and no photographs were requested; nonetheless, the sheer quantity of people had the chapel’s volume at a definite loud hum, accentuated by barked reprimands from the guards to the numerous recalcitrant visitors. Yet, beyond this commotion, there were Michelangelo’s Creation and his Last Judgement. (...) We then collapsed in the museum’s café, imbibed some pizza and abandoned all thoughts of going back to any missed galleries.

Still more or less mobile, we entered the welcoming double colonnade of the piazza and queued (very British of us!) for grand St. Peter’s Basilica. It was overwhelming to be in such instantly recognizable, symbolic spaces. Michelangelo’s dome and his Pièta waited inside along with mosaics composed of the tiniest pieces. We later dined on panini on the very second-class train to Naples followed by a heavily graffiti-ed, subway-like ride further south to coastal Sorrento. With a poor quality map and only a general idea of the direction of the hostel, we nevertheless found our accommodations. While still in London, Google Street View had insistently shown a vegetation-topped wall instead of a hostel and a Google-error was starting to seem less and less likely... Suz and I bunked with two Scandinavian girls while Tom was segregated into a private room off the kitchen!

In the early morning light, we hopped a bus travelling along the Amalfi Coast to Positano. Winding, narrow, cliff-hugging roads – Tom was sure he had seen this before in a Gran Turismo course! When I wasn’t preoccupied by the sheer drop out my window, I could appreciate the sparkling sea vista. I realized that we had an expert driver when we successfully(!) backed up along a tight curve to allow for a passing bus, and I relaxed (slightly). Positano is a collection of colourful, Moorish-inspired and precariously-positioned dwellings. We got off the bus too early and started the long, labyrinthine descent to the town’s tiled Duomo. We got directions from an old woman at a vegetable stand and really only understood the oft-repeated ‘walk’ and ‘stairs’ and some pointing. The plan was to get a map at the tourist office and then venture off along hiking trails, but once we arrived at the beach and the turquoise waters, we decided instead to relax and soak up that powerful sun. While the weather was not perfect for bikinis, that didn’t stop many vacationers. Overdressed as usual, we rolled up our jeans and waded in the water, and Tom did what he always does when in proximity to water: he skipped rocks. Tom later disappeared for a bit and rematerialized with a deli feast. Once we were sated and had removed the sand and pebbles from our toes, we caught the bus to Amalfi.

Amalfi, a once powerful Maritime Republic, is another hillside town dotted with citrus groves. From its docks, we boarded a boat for the Emerald Grotto. It was great just to be out on the water with the sun and cooling wind. Within the sea cavern, our rower-guide joked in all languages and revealed the chamber’s ghostly green, underwater glow for us. Back on land, I indulged in a tartufo – essentially an ice cream truffle. The Cathedral of Amalfi was an unexpected complex with an unexpected relic: the bones of Saint Andrew travelled through various countries before reaching this town. The cathedral has a wonderfully delicate cloister, and an intricately painted and sculpted crypt. Emerging from the depths, we sampled some limoncello – the local specialty. I was the only one who stayed awake for the bus ride back to Sorrento. That day was a perfectly timed rest after two break-neck days in Rome.

Pompeii does not lie in the shadow of Mount Vesuvius as I had imagined. The volcano that devastated the city in AD79 (and preserved it for future generations) was visible only as an outline in the distance. The site has been an archaeological dig for the last 250 years; six meters of ash buried villas, mosaics, statues, temples and 20,000 citizens. Fifty hectares are impossible to visit in one day, so we mapped out our plan of attack and regrouped a couple of times to evaluate our progress and reconsider our route. The streets were paved with massive stones and large villas emerged beyond inconspicuous entrances; frescoes were still visible within. The forum, amphitheatres, arena and brothels (with suggestive paintings for the uninspired!) triggered images of a vibrant social life. Most artefacts and objects of daily life have made their way into museum collections, and so it was all the more striking and real to see the plaster casts of victims, placed where found, in the context of their life and death. Some had agonized expressions immobilized by the hot ash during their attempt to escape. Also in contrast to the pale ruins was the plant life: gardens, rows of sycamores, olive trees, vineyards and orchards carefully recreated the past flora. We left the ancient city and its stray dogs and (stray) lizards with the setting sun.

We carted our backpacks out of the luggage store and made our way to Naples. The hostel’s estimated 20-minute walk from the train station proved to be very optimistic; we did, however, survive the streets in this city of elevated crime and disappearing tourists. The hostel staff was very chill / watching tv and, to apparently stump them, we asked them to recommend a non-pizza eatery. In a small square behind the hostel, we found great food served by great staff otherwise engrossed in a soccer game. And, before leaving, we may have witnessed a mafia pay-off. A rough-looking guy in an impeccable suit came in and collected a wad of cash from the owner. Tip: ‘mafia’ is not an English word so keep your voice down when commenting about these types of transactions. Our roommates were decidedly antisocial (and asleep) when we returned, so we chatted with some other travellers in the common room and learned of the secret entrance to the Colosseum.

Naples has the chaotic traffic we were told to expect in Rome. Crosswalks are merely locations where you stare down drivers; it’s your nerve against their braking power. We stared our way over to Castel Nuovo and the Palazzo Reale. A jumble of buildings teetered over the Piazza del Plebiscito. Set out in the Tyrrhenian Sea, we explored the Castel dell’Ovo, wandered through the neighbouring fishing village and surveyed the city’s coastline. We then rushed to Spaccanapoli (free bus!) and navigated the narrow streets of the old city to arrive at the Duomo before its early afternoon closing. Within, the head of St. Januarius and two vials of his blood safeguard the city of Naples. (...) In this, the birthplace of pizza, lunch was obviously the original, simple and delectable margherita and marinara pizzas. After lunch, at a more leisurely pace, we discovered Spaccanapoli’s pedestrian-sized streets with pick-ups and scooters nevertheless scraping by. By far, this was the best part of the city. Supersized churches materialized on small setbacks along narrow roads. Flags, laundry and balconies overhead made for activity in all directions. A little gelato refresher later and we ended the day at the Museo Archeologico Nazionale di Napoli. Those Pompeii artefacts needed for us to fully recreate the city in our mind’s eye were found here. And, the peculiar Gabinetto Segreto (‘Secret Cabinet’) exposed the erotic and mostly phallic collections of those lost souls.

Return to Rome - 2000 years ago. It was a time of emperors, gladiators, slaves, nobles and plebeians. We found the secret ticket booth for the Roman Forum and the Colosseum (great intel – no line-ups!). And, we learned a valuable lesson on Palatine Hill: don’t do the audio-guide backwards! It seemed convenient given our entry point, but the usual system was not in place – no sign posts indicating the number of the relevant commentary. Were we standing in the right place? Were we listening to the right one? Very little remains of the Emperors’ villas and they require great imaginary reconstruction to see anything. This was why those recordings were so important and why we were so confused. From the Farnese Gardens, we took in a view of the whole Roman Forum; we determined to do this part in the right order and raced around to #1 before becoming similarly aimless. The site was like a convoluted puzzle on top of a convoluted puzzle. Much of the architecture became quarries or simply deteriorated with the effects of time. To visualize this political, religious and social center as it would have been, there were great histories told of vestal virgins tending the eternal flame of Rome, of Julius Caesar’s murder and of victorious armies marching amongst cheering crowds with prisoners and booty in tow. We needed to get to the Colosseum before last entry at 3.30, so we rushed back out the secret door and across the street. Once inside, we caught our breath. We would have until sundown to explore this place. Not surprisingly, we decided to forgo the audio-guide. The Colosseum meant entertainment for most Romans, but death for unfortunate exotic animals, prisoners of war and gladiators. Stray cats seen in the stands and the sub-arena passageways live in more favourable times today... And then the sun set on another icon. We paused to look back after leaving. Despite having thrown our coin in Trevi Fountain, it’s hard to know if we’ll ever make it back. The day ended where Rome legendarily began: on Capitoline Hill with twin brothers Romulus and Remus.

Our last morning, we exchanged stories of Montreal with our hostel-mates: coincidentally, another McGill alumnus/American and a girl from NDG. It was my first Hallowe’en without a pumpkin, but I bore up and finalised our itinerary for the day. We had so many maps of Rome between the three of us and, at that, a few had already succumbed to some gelato and coffee mishaps (not mine)! The first stops of the day were the angel-crowned former mausoleum Castel d’Angelo and then the Basilica di San Pietro in Vincoli with Michelangelo’s Moses and the chains (believed to be) worn during Saint Peter’s imprisonment. At Santa Maria in Cosmedin’s Mouth of Truth, none of us dared tell a lie (seriously!) lest the legends be true and the mouth snap shut on us! We picnicked along the historically strategic Appian Way before descending into the Catacombs of San Callisto. The first Christians rid themselves of the Roman tradition of cremation with their new belief in resurrection – just in case! These catacombs have 20km of passageways on multiple levels lined with tiered alcoves for the dead. All bones have been moved from the public galleries after years of tourists pilfering ‘souvenirs’. Up for air and again the light was fading. The sun had been our great ally on this trip despite abandoning us all too early every day.

We chose our last hostel for its location close to the airport, but, seemingly, shuttle buses don’t run all night and our flight was at 6.30am. After brief delusions of walking to the airport and a conversation with some Americans who had spotted a wolf on their late night bus ride, we scraped together the last of our cash for a taxi. And, finally, we headed to ‘downtown’ Ciampino for a snack before calling it a (brief) night.

The expression goes ‘Roma, non basta una vita’ (‘Rome, a lifetime is not enough’), but, after a week, Italy had depleted our physical resources. We sent Suz back to Canada spent from her vacation! Eventually (and soon), we will return to roam the northern regions of Il Bel Paese.