Rome

A February jaunt to Rome

A while back, I was talking with my friends Mark and Ro about visiting Rome together. They had spent the majority of their professional lives in the world of classical music, especially opera, and they have been known to take themselves off to this or that city in order to see one of their friends conduct an opera or a concert.

We talked about going to Rome together, and we finally made it happen in February. We saw their friend (and Ro’s former boss) conduct a concert there, and also had time for some excellent exploration. We all had lists of things we thought we’d like to do or see—or eat!—and we managed to check most items off the lists. Except—oops—I came home with a longer list than I’d left with.

Here’s the story of how we spent five lovely days in la Bella Roma.

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Days 1 & 2 : Feet on the ground, music in our ears

We were traveling in February, and really, we had no expectation of good weather. And yet that’s what we had: nearly a week of warmish days, abundant sunshine and very little wind. That made all the walking so much nicer, not to mention being able to sit outside for lunches and coffee stops.

One place we all wanted to see was the Pantheon, and so our first morning we set off walking in that direction from our apartment in the Prati.

Alas, we had made little progress before Mark noticed that behind some very modern glass walls was a suggestion of a very ancient something. Reflections in the glass prevented a clear view, but we eventually figured out that this was indeed a modern structure enclosing some sort of Roman building, and we decided that an investigation was in order.

It turned out to be one of the fun surprises of our trip: an altar named Ara Pacis Augustae, and usually referred to as Ara Pacis. It was commissioned by the Roman Senate in 13 BC to honor Augustus after he returned from successful wars in what are now Spain and France, and dedicated to the Pax Romana, the Roman vision of peace. I had no idea that the Romans had ever dedicated anything to peace, so this was indeed a discovery.

It’s built entirely of Carrara marble, and it is a wonder of sculpture and design.

With that good start to the day, we set off in earnest in the direction of the Pantheon and one of the coffee shops that my sister-in-law Kathy had recommended, Tazza d’Oro. We took a table outside to enjoy our delicious coffee and local pastries, along with a narrow sliver of a view of the front of the Pantheon, enough to see the letters “M•AGRIP,” for Marcus Agrippa. It was a perfect moment in Rome, and we were all in high spirits.

We went inside to check out the shop and to buy some coffee, and were treated to a multi-sensory experience: the smell of perfectly-roasted coffee, the sounds of cups clinking on saucers and orders being called out, the sights of all the various coffee-making paraphernalia. It was grand! Then we headed across the street to a Venchi shop, my favorite Italian chocolate.

With fuller bellies, we felt ready to turn our attention to the Pantheon, but as Mark had figured out, this was the first Sunday of the month, which means that a great many museums and other attractions are free. The line to get inside the Pantheon wrapped partway around the huge building, and we made the quick decision to come back another day, turning our attention to something that’s been on my list for a very long time: the Trajan Column.

This is not an ordinary column of smooth or fluted marble. This column tells a story, a Homerian-style epic that spirals up the full height of the column. The story is about how Trajan’s armies went to Dacia (modern Romania), fought a series of wars, thoroughly destroyed the Dacian culture, and returned to Rome with untold Dacian wealth.

Here’s a quote from Andrew Curry writing for National Geographic : “Towering over [the forum] was a stone column 126 feet high, crowned with a bronze statue of the conqueror. Spiraling around the column like a modern-day comic strip is a narrative of the Dacian campaigns: Thousands of intricately carved Romans and Dacians march, build, fight, sail, sneak, negotiate, plead, and perish in 155 scenes. Completed in 113, the column has stood for more than 1,900 years.”¹

I studied typography in graduate school, and the inscription on the Trajan Column is widely considered to be the finest example of carved Roman square capitals, the foundation of our modern-day capital letters.

Later I worked for Adobe Systems, and I was there during the time that my friend and colleague Carol Twombly designed a contemporary digital font of the Trajan letters, aptly named Trajan. She acquired copies of rubbings made of the inscription by Edward Catich around 1950, and those rubbings decorated our offices for nearly two years while Carol created her beautiful and remarkably accurate design.

I wanted to see the original inscription… and we arrived at the exact wrong time of day; the sunlight was hitting the letters straight-on, leaving no shadows to help discern the shapes. So that you can see it, I did find a photograph at the New World Encyclopedia, below.

1 National Geographic
2 New World Encyclopedia

After that we walked through a tiny portion of the forum area, a huge expanse that is full of too many enticing things to see in one day. We passed through one area of ongoing excavations that includes structures not seen elsewhere in the forum.

Suddenly we were all hungry, so we looked for lunch. By now, we weren’t far from the Colosseum, which meant a great many pizza joints, but we walked off the beaten path just far enough to find a tiny restaurant tucked into a quiet side street, La Cicala e la Formica (The Grasshopper and the Ant). After enjoying a nice lunch, we were intrigued by one item on the dessert menu: chocolate salami. We had to try it, and yum!

Made with crushed plain biscuits, chocolate, butter, sugar, eggs, and sometimes rum, the mixture is formed into a soft mound, then rolled into a salami shape. It’s then wrapped in paper and foil, and placed into the refrigerator to set. When it’s sliced, it really does resemble a regular ol’ salami.

While we savored this dessert, we talked about the next day’s events; we had been invited to lunch with the conductor and his wife, followed later by the evening concert. I’d been wondering about some kind of gift for them, and we decided that a chocolate salami was the perfect thing. It fell to me, with my extremely limited Italian, to ask the owner, Andrea, if he’d sell us one of the treats.

“No.”

First he said that the chocolate salami is much too big to give as a gift, holding up his hands about 30″ apart (76cm). Well, yeah, that’s a lot of dessert.

“Can you make us a smaller one, to pick up tomorrow?”

He made pained noises and clearly did not want to do this. I tried to explain that we were attending a concert the next day, and the conductor was a friend; we thought he would enjoy a gift of Andrea’s delicious chocolate salami. This information didn’t seem to help, so I gave up. Disappointed, I returned to my friends and said it couldn’t be done … but then inspiration struck.

I returned inside and mentioned the name of our friend the conductor—Antonio Pappano—and in a flash, everything changed. Our host’s face suddenly relaxed into a beatific smile as his eyes went wide with wonder.

“You know the maestro Antonio Pappano?”
“I don’t, but my friends know him well. We’re having lunch with him tomorrow before the concert, and we think that your chocolate salami will make him happy.”
“I will make a salami for you to pick up before your lunch tomorrow.”

And we left, armed with Andrea’s cell phone number, skipping along the street like giddy children at the thought of presenting our gift the next day.

The next morning we returned to Andrea’s restaurant to pick up our chocolate salami, and then headed to the hotel to meet Antonio and Pam for lunch. After hearing Mark and Ro speak so fondly of both of them, it was a pleasure to make their acquaintance, and it didn’t take long to see the mutual affection among these old friends. Lunch was delicious and convivial, with a great deal of laughter, and here is Antonio receiving his gift of a chocolate salami.

Heading home, we had a slow wander that included a stop at the offices for the Accademia Nazionale di Santa Cecilia, founded in 1585 and one of the oldest musical institutions in the world. It comprises a symphony, a chorus, and a music academy, all internationally renowned.

Antonio Pappano was the Music Director there 2005-2023, and Music Director of London’s Royal Opera House 2002-2024, where Ro worked with him. He conducted the orchestra at the coronation of King Charles III and Camilla.

Tonight’s performance was Verdi’s Requiem, a booming performance with a full orchestra, a full choir, and four immensely talented soloists. I greatly enjoyed the performance of the soprano, Masabane Cecilia Rangwanasha. YouTube has a very short clip of the concert. It was magnificent!

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Day 3 : A scavenger hunt

The next day we returned to the Pantheon area to find the other coffee shop that Kathy had recommended, Sant Eustachio il Caffé, which dates to 1938 although coffee has been served at this location for much longer. It’s charming and a little old-fashioned, and the interior is awash in the cheerful sunflower yellow of the company’s logo.

Again we sat outside to enjoy our coffee and pastries, and we had a look around at the fascinating little piazza where we found ourselves. Just across from us stood a church with a most surprising thing on top: the head of a stag with a cross coming out of its head. We learned that this is the symbol of both Saint Eustace himself and Saint Hubert, both patron saints of hunters. The church is the Basilica di Sant’Eustachio.

We walked around the neighborhood, peeking into shops and admiring bits of architecture. And then we headed to the Pantheon, one of the most beautiful and perfect buildings in the world. Without trying, we had timed it just right, arriving during lunch hour, so there was no one waiting in line, as there were when we passed by later in the day.

The photograph that opens this post shows the inside of the perfect dome and its huge oculus (27 feet, or 8 meters across), the opening that allows light to enter, while also reducing the weight of the dome to prevent potential collapse. The dome is built of concrete mixed with scoria and tufa, which also help to reduce the overall weight. Everything they did has worked, as the building dates to 125 AD, and remarkably, remained standing while so many Roman buildings were damaged or collapsed. It was consecrated as a church in the early 7th century, and it remains a church to this day; regular use could help explain why the building still stands.

Mark and Ro had suggested the possibility of visiting the three locations in Puccini’s opera Tosca, and that is what we did next, a sort of operatic scavenger hunt. The first act takes place in the Sant’Andrea Della Valle church. It was begun in 1590, completed in 1650, in a grand and ornate style that builds on its Renaissance foundations and moves into the beginnings of the more theatrical baroque era.

Act Two is set in the Palazzo Farnese, built 1517-1589. It is currently home to the French embassy. Built and used by the powerful Farnese family, the building and its art include works by Sangallo, Michelangelo, Raphael, Carracci, and a great many others.

The final act of Tosca takes place in the Castel Sant’Angelo, a colossal fortress built about 123 AD as a mausoleum for Emperor Hadrian and his family, later used as a fortress and a prison, and now houses a museum. The Passeto di Borgo is a secret passage that enables an endangered pope to escape from the Vatican and arrive here.

The Tosca scavenger hunt took us on an interesting walking tour to places we wouldn’t otherwise have found. We found artisan shops, ancient stables, intriguing inscriptions, and beautiful architecture. It was a day well spent.

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Day 4 : Layers of history

Kathy had recommended two basilicas that are near each other, and we decided to make a day of seeing both of them. We began with the Basilica San Clemente, dedicated to Saint Clement, the third pope after Saint Peter.

This is a great place to see many layers of the history of Roman life, all under one roof. Somewhat below the current street level stands a 12th-century basilica; it was constructed atop another basilica dating to 292 AD. Below that is a 1st-century temple to Mithras, which was probably part of a private home. This is constructed atop a building from earlier in the 1st century, which may have been part of the Roman mint. Whew!

There is a lot to see here, including some wonderful medieval frescos and a mosaic of gold in the apse, dating to the 12th century. One person we spoke with suggested that the creek that flows beneath the lowest level of construction may have been used to flood the Colosseum for its mock naval battles.

Of all the glories to be seen in San Clemente, my favorite was the mosaic floor. As soon as we walked in, I noticed the ever-changing geometric patterns of the mosaics. They are remarkable, and I made a lot of photographs of them. The craftsmanship and artistry are remarkable, and one of the many things I like is the way the artists blended one pattern into the next, as seen in the lower left photo.

I see detail, so I was making photos of various sections of the floor. But I wanted to give you an idea of what the whole San Clemente floor looks like from above, and I found the photograph below. It comes from David Lown, an art historian who runs a walking tour company named Walks in Rome. (His tours look intriguing.)

In a twist that I adore, we actually know the names of these artists. Beginning with Lorenzo Cosmati in the 12th century, a family dynasty was founded that spanned four generations of remarkably skilled artisans. Lorenzo began to develop his unique style to create patterns that are lovely in their own right, but they also include symbolism from Greek philosophy, Christianity, astronomy and nature.

The patterns are created by using bits of stone, cut into various shapes and fitted into white Carrara marble. Typical stones used include porphyry (reddish-purple), serpentine (deep green), and colored marble. Much of the stone was repurposed from Roman materials, including remarkably thin slices of columns used to make perfect circles. Roman glass also appears in many of the floors, as well as pieces of Roman inscriptions, such as memorial stones, seen below.

The Cosmati artisans were immensely popular, and while much of their work is found in and around Rome, there are Cosmati works in other areas, too, including Westminster Abbey in London. In another connection with the 2023 coronation (see the story above about Antonio Pappano), King Charles walked on the Cosmati Pavement during the event.

After a break for lunch, we headed to the Basilica dei Santi Quattro Coronati, where we sat in the church to listen to the nuns chant the hours, saw more of the intricate Cosmati mosaics, and visited the lovely and quiet cloister. We missed our chance to have a tour of the Gothic Hall, with its medieval frescos that were only discovered in 1996. But we did go into the astounding Chapel of San Silvestro, consecrated in 1247; his long reign as Pope was in the early 4th century, about the time that Rome began to Christianize.

The afternoon was winding to an end, and we easily could have found our way to the subway by walking back the way we had come, but Mark suggested that we could see a different part of Rome if we went the opposite direction. We walked much further than intended, but saw some great things along the way.

Before we finally found the subway, we also saw the Porta Asinaria in the 3rd-century fortifications, and walked past the more modern fortifications of the British embassy. It was a remarkably full and satisfying day.

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Day 5 : Parco del Gianicolo and Trastevere

On our last full day in Rome, we wanted to spend the day in the Trastevere neighborhood, including a park, a villa, a church or two, some pasta, a cup of good coffee… It was another beautiful day, perfect for walking, and we were heading toward the Gianicolo Hill, a park with a marvelous view of the city.

Garibaldi is there, hero of Italian unification in 1861. There is also his wife Anita, a battle-tested soldier in her own right. Her statue shows her as a formidable horsewoman: carrying her baby cradled in one arm while the other hand fires a pistol, all while her horse is charging. I didn’t get a good photograph of her statue, but I found this online, by Vincent Drago:

There is a circular walk lined with the busts of 84 partisans who fought alongside Garibaldi on behalf of the fledgling Roman Republic against the combined forces of the Vatican and the French. Many of them were not Italians.

Nearby is a low wall that holds a very long installation, an inscription of the full text of the Roman Republic Constitution. The wall was inaugurated in 2011, the 150th anniversary of the Republic, and it’s impressive. As I was looking at the inscription, sitting high above the center of Rome, a loud boom just about made me jump out of my skin. It was very close by, and did I mention that it was loud?

It turns out that a cannon has been fired at this spot, at noon sharp, every day since 1904, although the tradition goes back to 1847 and a pope who grew weary of constant church bells.

Also nearby is a church I wanted to visit in order to close a circle. In my post about my time in County Donegal, Ireland, last year, I related the story of the Flight of the Earls. (You can read it here.) It’s a good story, but it doesn’t end well for the Irish chieftains, who all died in what is now Italy, never having returned to Ireland. Two of the chieftains are buried in a church here, San Pietro in Montorio. Unfortunately, the day I was there the floor of the church was covered by a huge and ugly blue carpet. I was the only one in the church, so I tried lifting one corner of the carpet, and no-no-no that wasn’t going to work. Eventually, I did find the marker for Hugh O’Neill, but Rory O’Donnell remained hidden.

At the foot of the Gianicolo Hill lies the Trastevere neighborhood, a delightful patchwork of bendy narrow streets and small squares. We found ourselves a good place for lunch, enjoying our pasta and wine outside on a lovely afternoon. Later we tried to go into Santa Cecilia in Trastevere, just one of several intriguing churches in this neighborhood. We didn’t hit the visiting hours correctly, and we were all feeling a little tired after a full week of exploring, so we headed home, leaving the churches of Trastevere for the next visit to Rome.

The next morning, our glorious trip to Rome stumbled to a difficult halt, as Ro took a fall on a sidewalk and broke her leg. It was not the end to the trip that any of us envisioned, but she is now well on her way to recovery, and smiles happily when we speak of this or that adventure during our sunny week in Rome.

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