Thursday, December 16, 2010

Ruins, Romans, Riots and a Turtle Fountain


I have been in a bit of funk ever since we came to Rome, and this evening over dinner, I think I figured it out.  I am feeling useless.  It is not just that my identity is tied up in my work, even though that is part of it.  I genuinely find my work very satisfying – I see the results of my efforts.  So right now I am feeling out of balance because that part of my life is missing.  One of my favorite poets, Muriel Rukeyser, once said “Breathe-in experience, breathe-out poetry.”   I am breathing in so many experiences, and other than this blog – not breathing out very much.  I think I need a new metaphor. 
I talk a lot about breath when I am teaching dance classes.  One of the things I try to emphasize to my students is that the exhale is every bit as important as the inhale.  When you do not exhale fully you build up CO2 in your system and this sets off a panicky feeling.  You see this often with small children learning to swim.  When they don’t exhale with their faces in the water, they get panicky and feel like they can’t inhale.  I don’t feel panicky – but I do feel like I can’t take in much more until I find a way to exhale some of these experiences.  I need to process all this as we transition out of Italy and into France, and from being a twosome to being a threesome.
We are wrapping up our four days in Rome, and our three weeks in Italy. We spent our first full day here touring the Colosseum, Palatine Hill and the Forum.  In the big scheme of things, it is hard to imagine that ancient Rome only spanned about 1,000 years – from about 500 B.C. – 500 A.D.  Not a long time to evolve from a tribe of barbarians to a Republic governed by elected Senators, and then on to a vast Empire ruled by a military dictator (Julius Cesar), before plunging in the Dark Ages. 
 
What is wonderful and bizarre is the way modern Rome has grown around all these ancient ruins.  We walked from our hotel to the Colosseum.  As we were trudging along, map master and navigator Josh said, “We should be able to see it really soon.” And sure enough, we walked around the corner and there it was.  Imagine if the Colosseum was plunked down right where Yankee Stadium is in New York.  Rome is this modern, crowded, grimy city with these enormous ancient ruins sprinkled throughout the city.  The Colosseum is as visually spectacular as its history is grisly.  It is a 2,000 year-old marvel of Roman engineering and a monument to mankind (and I am being gender specific) at his most perverse.  Our tour guide pointed out that mornings were when different hunting events were scheduled and also exotic beast on beast competitions, executions were done everyday over the lunch hour, and the gladiator battles were later in the afternoon.  So a whole day of killing, killing and more killing.   While I found it amazing to see the large sections of the Colosseum that survived the years, earthquakes and looting (most of the marble that covered the bricks was “recycled” to the Vatican) it is just hard for me to get past killing as a spectator sport.  Gruesome. 
 

The second day we went to see Vatican City.  Once you go through the huge walls surrounding the Vatican, you have geographically, and visually, entered another country.  It is pristine, clean, and exudes unthinkable wealth.  The Vatican Museum has been described as “four miles of the finest art of Western Civilization,” and St. Peter’s Basilica as the “most impressive church on earth.” I appreciated seeing the Sistine Chapel, and found Michelangelo’s Pieta in St. Peter’s Basilica heartbreakingly beautiful, but the amount of wealth within those walls was simply incomprehensible to me. 
While we were in Vatican City, helicopters were hovering in the distance over Rome, waiting the results of the “no confidence” vote the in the Italian Parliament.  Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi narrowly survived two votes, avoiding the collapse of his government but setting off a round of violence in the center of Rome.  Nearly 100 people were wounded when protesters and police clashed.  A number of vehicles were set on fire (we could see the billowing smoke from the Vatican) and shop windows near the government center were smashed.  Later as we traveled back to our hotel, and went out to dinner, it was the subject of every television station and most people on the street.
On Wednesday, our goals were modest.  We just needed to find a Laundromat, do a significant amount of laundry, and then head off to explore the Jewish Ghetto.  I was thoroughly entertained that the Laundromat in our area was an Ondoblu – or combination self-serve laundry/ internet point.  The staff was helpful and for the first time since we left Sweden we have all clean clothes! 
The Jewish neighborhood in Rome is interesting.  Jews have been living in Rome since the 3rd Century BC.  After Emperor Titus’ occupation of Judea, and the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem, Titus returned to Rome with riches and enslaved Jews.  Both of which were used to build the Colosseum.   In 1555, anti-Semetic Pope Paul IV issued the orders for the walls of the Ghetto to be built to separate the Jews from the rest of the society.  Outside of the walls of the Ghetto, men needed to wear a yellow patch on their hats and women needed to wear yellow kerchiefs.
When unification of Italy finally occurred in 1870, the new Italian government ended the oppression and discrimination imposed by the Church, the walls of the Ghetto were destroyed and the Jews had equal rights.  This lasted until 1938, when the Fascist government imposed “Racial Laws” that stripped Jews of their public jobs, positions, and right to attend school. 
In October of 1943, Nazi trucks pulled into the Jewish Ghetto and demanded 50 kg of gold from the community to spare the Jews from being taken to concentration camps.  The goal was reached, Jews and non-Jews providing whatever gold they could, but in the end the Nazis still deported over 2,000 Jews to Auschwitz.  Only 16 survived to return to Rome.  While one-fourth of Rome’s Jews died in the Holocaust, most historians agree it would have been much higher if not for the help and support from a wide section of Roman society. 
Our last stop in Jewish Ghetto was the Turtle Fountain (Fontana delle Tartarughe) in Piazza Mattei.  The fountain was designed by Giocomo della Porta in 1581 and constructed by Thaddeus Landini. The bronze figures are standing on four dolphins. The turtles were added in 1658, and they are generally attributed to Gian Lorenzo Bernini.  It is said that the turtles were meant to honor the Jews – “an ancient creature that carries all its belongings on its back.” (Rick Steves)


Our last day in Rome, we went to the Pantheon.  It was great to see such an ancient building (it was a Roman Temple built in 27 B.C.) that is still so much intact.  Mostly we used our last day to wander around the city, eat our last gelato, and buy some Italian chocolate. 
Now we are waiting to board our train to Paris.  Bob is meeting us there, and the three of us will spend ten days in France then fly to Israel.  I am going to teach a number of master classes while in Israel and will spend a little of our time Paris preparing for that.  It’s my version of exhaling. 

When I realized my funky feeling was feeling “useless” – I immediately thought of one of my favorite Marge Piercy poems.  And sharing that seems to be the appropriate way to end this entry.  Arrivederci Italia!



To be of use
by Marge Piercy
The people I love the best
jump into work head first
without dallying in the shallows
and swim off with sure strokes almost out of sight.
They seem to become natives of that element,
the black sleek heads of seals
bouncing like half submerged balls.

I love people who harness themselves, an ox to a heavy cart,
who pull like water buffalo, with massive patience,
who strain in the mud and the muck to move things forward,
who do what has to be done, again and again.

I want to be with people who submerge
in the task, who go into the fields to harvest
and work in a row and pass the bags along,
who stand in the line and haul in their places,
who are not parlor generals and field deserters
but move in a common rhythm
when the food must come in or the fire be put out.

The work of the world is common as mud.
Botched, it smears the hands, crumbles to dust.
But the thing worth doing well done
has a shape that satisfies, clean and evident.
Greek amphoras for wine or oil,
Hopi vases that held corn, are put in museums
but you know they were made to be used.
The pitcher cries for water to carry
and a person for work that is real.

"To be of use" by Marge Piercy © 1973, 1982. 

From CIRCLES ON THE WATER © 1982 by Alfred A. Knopf, Inc. and Middlemarsh, Inc. 
First published in Lunch magazine.



2 comments:

  1. Nice weaving of feelings, personal perspective and historical/factual info. Do hope that doing some "work" (prep for teaching in Israel) in Paris will help to restore your equilibrium. It IS okay to just be and not do, isn't that what sabbaths and sabbaticals are for? The exhaling will come later; maybe you just have to learn to hold your breath longer....

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  2. Michele,

    Your blogs are wonderful to read and I enjoy seeing all of your photos! I hope you and Josh are enjoying your trip (sure sounds like you are!) and that Bob makes it safely over there to meet you!

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