This fountain stands in front of the Temple of Hercules on the Aventine hill. The temple dates from around 200 B.C. I have no idea when this fountain was constructed or what is depicts but the fountains here are my weakness! It was evening by the time I snapped this picture, but the ambient light illuminated this enough, I think.

Circus Maximus

The above is a picture of the Circus Maximus. The lighting is not particularly good, but this at least gives a bit of an impression of the entire trash-strewn length of it. We visited it in early evening, as the sun was setting on a cloudy day; perhaps one day I'll get a better photograph. The place was active, there were dogs chasing frisbees, and the cutest baby boy rolling around in delight with his momma in the grass. We took pictures and then walked to the end, where we were astonished by the aerial performance of massive flocks of birds far in the distance...they wheeled and flowed, shimmering and coalescing like mother-of-pearl in the darkening sky. They are difficult to describe, but they may be one of the most amazing things I have seen in the Eternal City.

Real Rome

Included is a candid shot of a common sight in my area of Italy: the Roman villa. As you can see, many people have vineyards, but perhaps more surprisingly, palm trees are very common in this area as well. The wall is crumbling, there is wet wash hanging on a line. This is the Rome not seen in the guidebooks, but I've been seeing a lot of it firsthand!

For a European city, Roma is comparitively dirty. They don't seem to have a trash-collector's union/guild like in Germany or Switzerland. Most of the apartment building are smoke-shadowed and aging, but painted pleasing pastel colors. There is the constand threat of pick-pocketing on the metro and around large tourist attractions; violent crime is rare in Rome but petty theft is rampant. I was almost attacked by gypsies on the Spanish Steps! I was with a friend at the time, which was lucky because I had no idea what was happening until it was all over, but he was aware and ready for anything. Apparently two of them converged behind us as we began our descent down the Steps, but I began to run down the Steps quite fast just for fun, and apparently they did not want to draw attention to themselves by following us. Lucky! They have quite developed strategies for robbing, involving children or pretending to sell something. Supposedly the best way is to utterly refuse to let them touch you, and not to allow them to move behind you and slash your backpack. I haven't had any trouble, but I am cautious when I am in crowds!

I saw some very interesting things when I ventured into Rome a second time: I especially enjoyed the Capuchin Crypt, or "Bone Church" located on the Via Veneto. The church above the crypt is a functioning one, but I merely visted the rooms below, which was packed with the remains of hundreds of monks. Chandeliers of clavicles! Stacks of skulls! There were tiny half-mummified monks reclining in their moldering robes in alcoves and a chilling inscription at the finish, "What you are, we used to be. What we are, you will be."

After the Capuchin monks I visited the Spanish Steps (anticlimactic) and afterward the Keats-Shelley Memorial House, which is the house where Keats breathed his last and which has been subsequently converted into a museum housing a great deal of memorabilia. Byron and Wordsworth were also honored, but to a lesser extent. The house itself was a darling little dose of Victorian quaintness, with creaking wood floors, heavy drapery and the smell of books. They had quite a few of Percy and Mary Shelley's personal correspondence, perhaps the most poignant of which was a letter from Percy Shelley to a medical friend requesting a lethal dose of prussic acid (a derivative of cyanide that was a popular mehod of suicide at the time) not to take immediately--he assured the friend--but merely for the comfort of holding "the key to the chamber of perpetual rest". The room in which Keats died from tuberculosis was tiny and narrow, with a rusty red tiled floor and sea-green walls. The Memorial House possessed both a death and life mask of Keats, and from those I have quite a good sense of what he looked like...far better than from a formal portrait or an etching. There is also a revealing little sketch done by the one friend in attendance on Keats around 2am the night before the poet died the next morning. The sketchis titled "2 o'clock, done by candlelight to keep me awake," and depicts Keats' blank face and sweat-curling hair as his head rests on his pillow.

Quite interesting.

This. Is. Roma.

Even before I arrived in the Fiumicino airport I had a taste of Italian culture. One of the stewardesses on my plane (who resembled a worn Sophia Loren) introduced me to the manners of her culture be throwing an astonishing tantrum and treating the other airline personnel and the passengers with equal surliness and Latin drama.

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The first view of Rome was not nearly as disappointing, however. We arrived at 6:50 AM Roman time, and the city--laid out in twinkling golden lights--was surrounded by a thick bank of curling clouds under a pink and white sunrise. As we descended further, I could make out one of the famous seven hills on which Rome is built.

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I had to wait until today for my first proper view of the city. We woke up at 5:30 AM to attend mass at Saint Peter's Basilica. So many things could be said about that church, I might begin by saying it had many more 'rooms' than I expected--it consists of a huge, shadowy main hall from which branch off many 'chaplets'. Many things in St. Peter's are on a grand scale: beautiful giants carved in marble, the vast dome high above, Christ's words painted high on the walls so loud they seem to be shouted in thunder. But all this gargantuan splendor cannot dwarf the Pieta, which reclines small and flawless behind its bullet-proof glass.

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After the Basilica, I crossed the Tiber and visited the Pantheon, which proved anticlimactic after St. Peter's. The only significant about the Pantheon is its dome; the paintings inside suffer from poor lighting, and it's amazing how one's enjoyment of something can be spoiled by artic temperatures inside and an odd smell.

I progressed to the Forum, laid out in ruined splendor in the afternoon sunlight. It was quite beuatiful but somewhat crowded and I resolved to return sometime in the early morning before I leave Rome, in order to experience the place unspoilt by fellow tourists. (I should not neglect to mention that I visited the place site where Julius Caesar was killed. This was a strange place...half-ruined except for a stage and steps that remain intact. Although one can hardly imagine the famous murder occurring in this sleepy, humble place overrun by grass and contented cats.)
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This sight concluded my first day in Rome, except for an unimpressive lunch. I have heard that Italian cuisine is world-famous, but this has not been the case: it is utterly impossible to dine in this city without eating complex corbohydrates, their pizza is paper thin and running in grease, and the concept of a salad--perfected in the United States--has apparently not gained popularity here. Not to say that everything I have eaten has been sub-par: I have already discovered the best croissants I have ever tasted and they serve pineapple juice at breakfast.

Classes begin tomorrow!

Cows, continued.

Here is one of the closeups of my bovine friends taken the same morning. They were watching me carefully!

This morning I noticed the light was particularly lovely, so I hurried outside to take some indiscriminant photographs. As usual, the neighbors' herd of cows became the subject of my efforts. These cows are quite shy, but after much coaxing, I have managed to befriend them and they will now allow me to photograph them from only a few feet away. This morning, however, I had only snapped a few pictures before I saw the neighbors themselves approaching down the fence line in their battered Ford. They (crusty ranchers) must have thought I was insane: standing outside in the 30 degree early-morning chill taking pictures of their cows with my pajamas fluttering around me! I walked away as nonchalantly as I could. ;P

I got some decent closeups, but I felt this long shot captured the mood of the morning the best.

Horses: here and elsewhere

A few days ago I participated (as the photographer) in a photoshoot of Domino, one of our young Morgan geldings. He is for sale, and my mother--the horsewoman of the family--intends to post this picture and others in classified ads, etc. I will be interested in archiving other photos of horses I encounter in Europe, particularly of Italian and French horses, of whom I know very little. Lipizzaners and Andalusians, here I come!

Last days in America the beautiful...

This initial post celebrates the official launch of Project Europa! ... my informal web log of adventures during a semester overseas.