February 2005 Archives

It's one of the best sights in Rome, and must be seen after dark to be truly appreciated. It's not by Michelangelo or Bernini, and you won't find it in most art history textbooks. But it is one of the most memorable sculptures in town. It's the Trevi Fountain, nestled in rabbit-warren streets in the heart of old Rome. Art critics scoff at it, but the light dancing in the fountain on a clear evening is magical.

On a cool November night, the small square is uncrowded, the restaurants still have plenty of tables, and gelato can be had without a wait. And it's easy to find a spot to throw your coin into the fountain, guaranteeing your return to Rome some day.

In summer, I'm told, this experience is significantly less romantic due to the crush of crowds and the suffocating heat and humidity. But we enjoyed our November Trevi fountain.

If you look closely at the base of the fountain, it appears that the sculptures and the building behind them are growing out of rough rocks, like a tree with roots.

More celebrated in the art world is Bernini's masterful Four Rivers Fountain, in the Piazza Navona. This piazza is one of the largest pedestrian-only piazzas in the city and the fountain is its mighty centerpiece.

Each of the men carved into the fountain represents one of the four greatest rivers known at the time of the Renaissance. Intriguingly, one of the figures, the Nile, has his head covered, as nobody knew where its headwaters were at the time the sculpture was carved.

The center of the chunk of marble reveals the buildings behind like a keyhole.

From another perspective, a confused horse surgese through the middle of the sculpture while one of the rivers raises his hand in horror while being run over by a BMW.

Some of these river guys need to hit the gym.

But then again, at night, everything looks better.

Click here for previous chapters of "A Week in Rome".

A long subway ride from the old city, deep in the Roman suburbs, is a massive but ordinary-looking outcropping of the Vatican known commonly as St. Paul's Outside the Walls (of the city of Rome). One of the largest churches in the world, it is about as far from any other tourist attraction as you can get and still be roughly inside Rome. On the blustery November afternoon when we took the trip, we thought we'd see the peaceful columns of a stately cathedral, good for a picture or two. We got a full-blown religious experience.

The streets outside the far-flung subway station were nearly empty as we walked through the rain toward the flat, featureless backside of the church. A few police cars were parked along the side, and a few nicely dressed people drifted in and out of a small door. We wandered around the front, which faces a poorly maintained park. The grey day seemed to sop up whatever color the unkempt grass had to offer. The front of the church was deserted, and we wondered if we had stumbled into the wrong place altogether, or if the cathedral was closed.

Disappointed after the riches of Florence and the Vatican City, we wandered back the way we came, past the small door. We saw some tourists disappearing inside, and in a last-ditch effort to get something out of our long trek to this place, decided to follow them.

We found ourselves in a small anteroom. A young priest, dressed in formal robes, motioned for us to go forward toward another door around a corner. We did so, and as we stepped through the inner doorway, were bathed in a blaze of candlelight and color.

Some kind of massive ceremony was going on. Another young priest motioned for use to proceed into the main section of the cathedral. On our way we passed crowds of robed priests and altar boys.

Along the side of the great cathedral, shafts of light come in from above and reflect on the marble below. Dad takes it all in.

A crowd of about a thousand parishoners is packed in, watching a ceremony presided over by an older man, perhaps a bishop or a cardinal. It is clear from the behavior of the parishioners that this man is special, as they strain to take pictures of him, flashes sparkling throughout the crowd. Signs warning not to take pictures are universally ignored. Video cameras run. Parishoners in wheelchairs are parked throughout. The crowd is diverse in age, from young families to the elderly. Priests are dotted throughout the crowd, watching with rapt attention.

Well, almost all of them were paying attention. Some were looking a bit, er, bored.

Or maybe just over-inspired. In the back, the fathful take to their knees as the ceremony, which seemed to involve the blessing of some sort of artifact, went a hundred yards away in the altar.

Worshipping, as they are, in one of the most religiously significant places in the history of the earth, surrounded by the ghosts of Athena and Zeus and those that came even before them. Rome is, above all, a spiritual place.