Friday, April 3, 2009
Rome

There is simply too much to see in Rome and if you are addicted to churches or museums, as I am, you have to make certain choices. So, after another big breakfast in our hotel, we set out to view some of the sights that literature has made famous through the centuries, starting with the Spanish Steps.

Picking our way down the Via de Condotti:
On checking my map, I discovered that the Piazza de Spagna stands at the end of one of Rome’s most famous streets—the fashionable Via de Condotti which is the equivalent of New York’s Fifth Avenue in that it houses the showrooms of the country’s best-known couturiers. I picked our way across the map to the famous street and made the discovery that the shops get more expensive and the designer names more famous the closer you get to the steps. We stopped en route to see some of the goodies being offered by Furla and Valentino and Salvatore Ferragamo and marveled all the while at the fact that Italy seemed recession-proof as most of the locals were walking jauntily along the street, their hands laden with bags that announced their pricey buys.

The Spanish Steps and the Church of Trinita del Monti:
We spied the Spanish Steps long before we arrived there as the spires of the Church of Trinita del Monti, being located high on a hill, are easily visible all along the Condotti. As always, the Steps were filled with student groups and morning strollers with their dogs in tow soaking in the sun (for it had turned out to be a beautiful day). Unlike most of his ornate fountain sculpture that adorns the city of Rome and gives it a distinctive character, the little boat-like sculpture in front of the steps are Bernini’s most modest. It does, in fact, portray a sunken boat and lacks the opulent characters that decorate the rest of his work. After Llew and I had posed for pictures, we began our climb up the steps to see the church and receive stirring glimpses of the city of Rome lying in ochre splendor at our feet. The church contains several paintings and sculptural works but this was one place in Rome that was not soundly mobbed and I have to say that for a moment, at least, I enjoyed the seclusion.

Then, when we had descended the steps, we began our perusal of the Piazza de Spagna taking in the Babbington Tea Rooms which were set up in the 19th century for visiting Englishmen and women who, on their Grand Tour of Europe had passed through Rome and felt homesick for the English tea and clotted cream-filled scones of the Home Counties. The atmosphere inside (yes, we did peek in briefly) was warm and cozy like the cups of tea being sipped delicately by the well-heeled patrons.

The Keats-Shelley Memorial House:
Next, we walked to the opposite side of the Steps (still teeming with joyous humanity) to the Keats-Shelley Memorial House, which, for me at least, was like making a pilgrimage. Ever since I was first introduced to his work as an undergraduate in Bombay, John Keats has remained my very favorite poet of all time and on every occasion I try to trace the footsteps of his life. I have, for instance, been to his famous house in Hampstead where he wrote Ode to a Nightingale. And anyone who knows anything about the sad end of Keats’ life knows that because he was afflicted with tuberculosis, he made his way to Italy to escape the cold damp of the English winter, to arrive in Rome with which he fell fully in love. His diary jotting records his rapturous response to the city as seen from the windows of this house that overlooks the Spanish Steps and the piazza beyond. However, despite his sojourn in warmer climes, he barely outlasted that winter. By the following spring, he was too weak to even sit at the window and it was in a bedroom in this house that he breathed his last—at the tender age of 26—perhaps English Poetry’s greatest loss of all time.

Llew and I climbed the marble winding steps with its beautiful wrought iron curving handrail to the top, passing all the time, a number of framed portraits of famous literary men and women who have either made Rome their home for a while or have visited this house upon being inspired by the spirit of Keats and Shelley. When we arrived at the reception desk, a lovely young lady named Josie introduced the home to us and sold us a ticket for 6 euros each. Then began our thoughtful and very quiet perusal of the rooms that make us Keats’ last home—a home crammed with all sorts of memorabilia including bits and pieces of manuscripts of his famous odes, a multitude of sepia-toned photographs, any amount of fragments of letters he wrote and received (for Keats was a prolific letter writer) as well as the poet’s hair and other relics from a short but profoundly productive life.

One can see the bedroom that Keats occupied and in which he breathed his last. Though fully created to replicate the way in which he lived and died, every item in the room is a replacement as the entire contents of the bedroom were burned after his death in accordance with Italian law which decreed that since tuberculosis was spread by contact with the patient (a fallacy, of course), everything that had come in contact with him was destroyed by fire. In vain did Keats’ friends try to salvage some of the personal items associated with his last days. To read the notes was to be deeply moved and I was close to tears as I took in the room, peered out into the sun-soaked piazza to survey the view he once so enjoyed and contemplated the legacy he left behind—a wealth of some of my favorite poems.

The room on the other side of the house is devoted to Shelley and the other Romantics as Shelley and Keats were close friends and the former did provide Keats with companionship in his last weeks. It was not long before Shelley followed Keats to his death, drowning as he did in a shipwreck off the coast of Italy. The two are buried side by side in Rome’s Protestant cemetery, which, unfortunately, we did not have the time to visit. However, a visit to this house should be on the must-see agenda of every lover of English Literature and I was so grateful that I had the opportunity to visit it.

The Piazza Barberini:
Then, it was time to tear ourselves away from the Spanish Steps and pick our way towards the Piazza Barberini. Our excellent map of Rome made such sightseeing very easy and by the time we arrived at the Piazza made famous by Bernini’s wonderful sculptural fountain of Triton who blows a conch-shell from which water flows abundantly, we were ready for lunch. After we took in the frenzy of the traffic as it sped around the piazza and spied the endless grand windows of the Villa Barberini (so-called because it was built by a member of the Barberini family who eventually became the Pope and thought it prudent to use his position to build a grand mansion for his family-members—a bit like Pakistan’s politicians, what?) we settled down in a street-side trattoria called Pepy’s Bar whose cocktails are well-known and ordered (no, not a cocktail) but a couple of paninis and a cold beer. There is no better spot from which to do some serious people watching than this eatery that spills out on to the pavement and offers wonderful views of the passing city. Our feet felt well rested by the time we stood up to continue our exploration of the sprawling city of Rome.

Along the Via Veneto:
Using the lovely DK Eye-Witness Guide to Rome, I decided that we would walk along the Via Veneto taking one of the marvelous walking tours that loops around the area. But not before we climbed up a short hill to see Bernini’s Fountains of the Four Seasons that stand at the four corners of a busy intersection, each one representing a different season by the portrayals of an appropriate Roman god or goddess.

Then, we began our tour of the area taking in the streets made famous by Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck in Roman Holiday, for it was along these streets that they had whizzed by in that famous Vespa. An exploration of the area requires a slow climb up a winding hill that allowed us to view the grand buildings and the grander shops that made the area so fashionable and so photographed—as in the films of Frederico Fellini, for instance. The US Consulate is in this area but though we tried to spy the star-spangled banner, we were unable to find it.

The Church of Santa Maria della Vittoria:
But coursing through the network of streets, all beautifully laid out and maintained and giving Rome its unique character, we arrived at the Church of Santa Maria della Vittoria that I was particularly keen to see as it contains the somewhat infamous sculpture by Bernini that depicts The Ecstasy of Saint Teresa. Llew and I had watched Simon Schama’s series on the History of Art on TV, a couple of years ago, and had remembered his commentary upon this sculpture which is Bernini’s most controversial and it was for this reason that I decided that we should not leave Rome without discovering it for ourselves.

Upon arrival at the church steps, we discovered that it was closed in the siesta hours that commonly shut down Italian churches. This gave us the opportunity to rest our legs as we sank down on the steps and waited. In about 20 minutes, we joined the large number of fellow art-lovers who made their way inside the church for precisely the same reason.

And there was the little chapel on the left side of the altar, Bernini’s most controversial work. It is spell-bindingly beautiful. The angel who stands on her left with an arrow in his hand ready to plunge it again into her breast matches the depiction of Saint Teresa as an idealistically gorgeous young woman. Teresa’s expression is what causes all the controversy as generations of scholars have commented upon the sexual nature of the expression—far from being bathed in mystical ecstasy, she seems to appear to be in the throes of sexual passion. What is even more provocative (at least to my imagination) is the fact that her experience is being viewed from two balconies on either side of the chapel in which a bunch of men look upon the scene as if at a play or an opera! I do not recall Schama talking about this aspect of the scene but it is the one I found most note-worthy. After taking pictures (the entire chapel is very well-lit), we left the church and found our way to the Piazza della Republica which is a large circle dominated by a rather ugly fountain whose sculptural figures are badly in need of a cleaning. The fountain parapet afforded an opportunity for more rest and people watching and we did just that.

The Church of Santa Maria degli Angeli:
Then because the doors to the Church of Santa Maria degli Angeli stood temptingly in front of us, we thought of exploring it—only to discover that it was designed by Michelangelo himself but has been largely reconstructed since his time. As we have often found, Italian churches are hugely deceptive because their entrances belie the majesty and greatness that lie within. Upon entering this church, we walked into an impressive rotunda and a spacious nave whose walls, floors and altars were filled with sculpture, pietra dura (marble inlay) everywhere and an abundance of frescoes.

And then because we were just a hop away from the huge central railway terminus called Termini, we decided to take a look at it tool. This was the station through which I had made my entry into Rome during my graduate school days while traveling on a Eurail pass, 22 years ago, and I recall eating one of the most delicious minestrone soups in its cafeteria! (Some things are hard for a foodie to forget!) This time, we found the station full of touts and hangers-on and after a quick stroll through its lobby, we hopped into the bus that would take us back to our hotel—but not before we stopped at a supermercati to buy some Lavazza coffee to carry back to London (as I have grown addicted to it) and some large packets of Baci chocolate!

Dinner at La Francescana:
That evening, we had our meal at La Francescana, a very family-friendly trattoria that lay very close to our hotel and which was recommended by the receptionist. We enjoyed a pitcher of Chianti and then Veal and a plate of pasta both of which were superb. Since we always fill up on the lovely Italian bread that is brought to the table (lovely dipped in olive oil and balsamic vinegar), we were too full for dessert and on a rather stuffed note, we returned to our hotel for the night—so pleased that we had traversed some of Rome’s lesser-known parts and had fully enjoyed our travels.