May Day in Rome, or Calendimaggio

Happy May Day, bloglings!

For those of you from the other side of the pond, the first day of May is European Labor Day and just about everyone has the day off. Like every holiday in Italy, May Day has its own traditions and customs, and in Rome it is most widely celebrated by heading out of town for a scampagnata, a country outing. This generally involves either an actual picnic on some lush hillside, preferably with a vineyard in view, or an interminable lunch in some large country osteria where every table is reserved for the entire lunch shift because table turn-over doesn't exist for these kinds of meals.

If it's not possible to make it all the way out to the country, or for those who dread the traffic, a picnic in one of Rome's many sprawling public parks is an acceptable substitute. And of course, no Italian holiday would be complete without the tradition of some specific, local, in-season ingredients. And May Day in the vicinity of Rome dictates pecorino cheese, raw fava beans, and for the non-vegetarians, some prosciutto. (And a bottle of Frascati wine, it goes without saying.)

[source]

Another May Day tradition in the city is the free mega-concert in Piazza San Giovanni in Laterano. Every year, between 800,000 and a million people fill the square to hear dozens of different performers, some very well known and most Italian. I cannot tell you what it's like as my agoraphobia would never permit me to attend, not even if I was paid to do so. To be honest, just the thought of being in that crowd makes me almost hyperventilate. But hopefully you don't share my crowd-anxiety, and if you'd like to attend, the music kicks off at 3pm and lasts until midnight.

Concertone di Primo maggio, 2011, Pza San Giovanni in Laterano
[source]

I know you're all wondering, with baited breath no doubt, how your faithful correspondent chose to celebrate this made up important holiday. I'm sorry to disappoint those of you who may imagine that I have some kind of glamorous life, what with living in Rome and all, but I cannot lie to you, dear readers. My May Day has been pretty boring, although productive. I realized this morning that I have literally practically no clothes. And most importantly, I do not own a pair of jeans. Or I didn't until this morning.

I'll let you in on a little secret. I hate shopping. I mean, I really really hate it. It makes me want to throw up just thinking about it. And I especially hate it when there is something specific that I need to buy, because I will almost surely not find it. I should, perhaps, clarify this a little: I hate shopping in Italy. Shopping in the United States, if overwhelming and over-stimulating, is a wonderful, marvelous thing. But shopping in Italy--at least in 2013--is hell on Earth. Why, you ask, darling readers? Because mid-level Italian designers have decided that it's not 2013, but actually 1991. So the shops are full of baggy T-shirts, off-the-shoulder, shapeless, sweater-dresses, M C Hammer pants, and jeans that are intended to be rolled up tightly at the ankle, like we did in 8th grade. All in the attractive colors of brown, beige, and camel. Every shop looks the same and it isn't pretty. It's a wonder I found any decent jeans at all.

My second exciting May Day event was the dreaded cambio di stagione (change of season). This is when you swap out all your winter clothes for your summer clothes and hope there isn't a late spring cold-spell. (This isn't necessary where I come from, by the way. In Seattle, the temperature is more or less the same all year round.) But it is a must in Rome, where not only does the weather jump from 45 to 85 degrees Fahrenheit sometimes in the space of a few weeks, but also where almost no one has more than a puny little wardrobe (roomy, built in closets are unknown in these parts). Thank God for the soppalco (crawl space).

Jealous, right? I'll bet. But just think, if I hadn't opted for a boring May Day, I wouldn't have had the time to write this post, and that's what really matters, amirite? Um, hello? Anyone still reading?

I do want to mention my absolute best May Day ever. It was in 2010, coincidentally just after I began this blog. Here is the post I wrote about that day: Perfezione e Vergogna (before I realized using Italian titles for my posts was not the best idea if I actually wanted people to read them--silly me). It was a wonderful day that included a bike ride in Villa Pamphilj and the requisite endless lunch in the countryside with a big group of friends.

 But those two highly enjoyable outings are not what made that day so special, nor are they the reasons I will remember it forever. No, that is because of something that happened early, early in the morning. Let me set the scene: I was engaged to be married. We I had decided that the wedding would take place in San Pietro in Montorio, just up the street from where I lived at the time on Via Garibaldi. The church is perched on the slope of the Gianicolo Hill, is the sight of Bramante's exquisite Tempietto, and has a view of Rome that makes you me want to weep with ecstasy.

Tempietto di Bramante, 1502
[Source]

The only problem is, just about everyone in Rome wants to get married there. I had talked to the priest months earlier and he had explained that you cannot book a date at that church any more than one year in advance, to avoid "abusi" as he put it. What did that mean for us me? I meant that we I would have to basically stake out the church on the first day of whichever month we hoped to get married in, one year in advance. And hope to get there in time to get a good date.

We had originally planned to get married some time in early June, but I wasn't sure how early we I would have to get to the church on the morning of the first of June to line up. How many other couples would have the same idea? June is probably the most popular month to get married... would I have to wait all night? (I had a vision of Claudio and I with our chess set sitting on the steps of the church on a balmy June night, waiting to pick our wedding date with all of Rome spread at our feet. Pretty romantic, right?)

But still, I was worried. I'd only have this one chance. What if 30 couples got there before us and grabbed all the weekend dates? I decided to do a dry run the month before. I figured I would show up at the church on the morning of the first of May around 6am (they let people in at 7) and see how many couples were waiting and ask them what time they got there. Well, I can tell you it wasn't easy dragging myself out of bed before six on a holiday, but luckily I lived very close to the church. I was rewarded with an incredible sight. I have seen the view of Rome from the Gianicolo probably hundreds of times (although I never tire of it), but never had I seen it at dawn. The city had a golden-rosy glow with just tinge of periwinkle. As beautiful as Rome is at sunset, I think it might be even more glorious at sunrise.

When I arrived at the church, the parking lot was full of cars. A few people were sitting around. Fourteen couples were already there, most had arrived the night before and slept in their cars. One couple had showed up at 2pm the day before. It did not bode well. June will be even worse, I imagined. Then I noticed that someone had a list. It was actually a calendar with the available days and times for weddings shown; as soon as a couple arrived, they blocked off their preferred date and waited until 7am to confirm it with the priest. I gave it a glance, just out of curiosity. All the 4pm weekend slots were already taken of course, except one: Sunday, 29 May. I thought quickly. Early June, late May, did it really make such a difference?

I jotted our names down, just in case, and made a quick call to a very sleepy fidanzatino (not yet maritino). "What? You booked what? When? All right... whatever...." Yes, it would have been nice if he had been as ecstatic as I was, but the important thing was he agreed on the date. I felt rather pathetic being the only lone bride there while everyone else was with their betrothed (except there was one groom whose fiancée was out of town and he had brought a male friend with him to keep him company; before he explained this I was thinking, "Did they change the rules?"). An hour-long wait and a quick meeting with the priest and that was it: we had a date for the wedding, in a church with one of the most amazing settings in the city. And that quiet, serendipitous morning is what May Day will always be for me.

I can't close this (very rambling) post without at least one nugget of history. Long before May Day was called by the pedestrian name of Primo maggio, it used to be called Calendimaggio. This term comes from the ancient Roman calendar, in which the first of the month was called the Kalends. As is the case with most Italian words in my vocabulary, the first time I ever heard the word Calendimaggio was in an opera. One of my favorites in fact, Puccini's Gianni Schicchi. Rinuccio and Lauretta desperately want to get married on Calendimaggio, only their families detest each other. Here's a video of the entire one-act opera, skip to 25:55 for the moment in which the thwarted couple despairs that they won't be able to marry on Calendimaggio.

I first saw this opera as a teenager I decided then and there that I too must wed on Calendimaggio. In fact, this was the original date I had hoped for, but am very happy someone talked me out of it, as John Paul II was beatified that day in 2011 and Rome was bursting to the gills with pilgrims, not to mention the traffic nightmares the Primo maggio concert inevitably causes.

In the Renaissance, Calendimaggio was not only a celebration of the arrival of spring (like May Day around the world), but it was also a day when tradition dictated that young men leave flowers at the doors of their sweethearts and maybe even serenade them. One of the few Italian cities that maintains the tradition of Calendimaggio is Assisi, where a three-day festival takes place during the first week of May every year, with processions, concerts, theater performances, competitions and lots of local townsfolk dressed in gorgeous Renaissance costumes. It starts tomorrow!

Calendimaggio di Assisi
[Source]

Happy Labor Day, May Day, Primo maggio, and Calendimaggio!

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First day of Carnevale in Rome

Flight of the Churches, Brigid Marlin

Carnevale kicks off today, and in honor of that colorful, vivacious, and heady festival, I couldn't help but share with you this gorgeous work of art. Carnevale will be forever linked with Venice (even though it did not originate there) and this fantastical image of Byzantine balloon-churches taking off from Piazza San Marco somehow reminds me of the unforgettable Carnevale I spent in that amazing city in 2005. The painting is the work of Brigid Marlin, an American artist born in 1936 who has been described as the first in a new generation of surrealist artists.   

But this is The Pines of Rome, not The Pines of Venice, and it's been many years since I have visited La Serenissima. Instead, I am going to extol the virtues of Roman Carnevale. It's pretty fantastic, if I do say so myself.

I plan to post a few times over the next ten days of the "holiday", about the traditions, the events and, perhaps best of all, the sweets that make Carnevale Romano just about the most wonderful time of the year. But until then, I leave you with this little taste that I encountered, almost by chance, on my afternoon walk today.

For a bit of background on Roman Carnevale, check out last year's post: Eat, drink, and be merry! Carnival in Rome.

Image sources: 1; 2 and 3, by author

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A quiet New Year's Eve in Rome: Soaking up the simple beauty

Would you like some Trinità dei Monti with your fairy lights? No, that's all right, the fairy lights are enough for me.

Since moving to Rome over eight years ago, I have come to realize that it is the simple things in this splendid city that fascinate and charm me the most. Of course I adore the Pantheon and Castel Sant’Angelo (and while I may not adore the Colosseum or St. Peter’s Basilica, I recognize what works of incredible human achievement they are), but those monuments are not what thrill my soul, nor what make me sometimes think, “How could I ever leave Rome?” Instead it is the minute details, the curiosities, the simple pleasures, which are often overlooked (even though, I must admit, in Rome even the simple things are extraordinary.)

This afternoon I took a long New Year’s Eve walk with my adorable Maritino through some of the most picturesque neighborhoods in the city. I’m a sucker for the twinkling lights and other decorations that make it even more magical than usual at this time of year. I’ve never been one to make too much of a fuss over New Year’s Eve (although I have always dreamed of going to a big fancy ball à la Meg Ryan in When Harry Met Sally). My first priority has always been to be among good friends and I usually end up at a cozy house party and maybe going out for post-midnight drink, and generally I am tucked up in bed by 1am or shortly thereafter.

But this year, the Maritino and I decided to ring in the New Year quietly, on our own. It’s after 8pm, and we still haven’t decided if we’ll go out for an informal dinner or stay in with a bottle of champagne and a movie. Either way, it will be simple and quiet.

But we did create a new tradition: a long, leisurely, afternoon walk through the sparkling city, trodding the sanpietrini of some of the loveliest streets and piazzas of the city, from Via dei Coronari to Via dell’Orso, Piazza San Lorenza in Lucina, Via del Campo Marzio, Via Borgognona and many more. And what simple yet enthralling pleasures awaited us at every turn: ogling the priceless antiques in the store windows, stopping to admire a never before seen (by us) curiosity, reminiscing about moments passed together in hidden corners of the city, marveling at the Borromini and da Cortona that seem to follow us around every bend, grabbing a piping hot slice of pizza al taglio, seeing locals and natives greeting each other with boisterous “Buon Anno!”s and “Happy New Year!”s, catching snippets of the song of an unusually talented street performer, and stopping for a pot of tea at Babington’s. The city was so rich and alive. It made me grateful to be alive and to be able to live in this extraordinary place, and to be able to keep on loving it so passionately, day after day, year after year.

Here are just a few photos from our epic five-hour walk. I would have taken more, but I was so busy feeding my pupils with the gorgeousness all around me, I simply forgot most of the time!

What's hiding behind that plant on Via dei Coronari?

Oh, no big deal, just a fragment of an ancient sculpture, plastered right into the wall of a building.

You know when you walk around the corner and run into a massive church you don't remember ever seeing before? (If this were Twitter, the hashtag would be: #onlyinRome) (In case you were wondering, it's San Salvatore in Lauro)

An almond cupcake by the fire at Babington's. Delicious, but can't compare to Christina's!

Tea and cake at Babington's: it costs at least as much as a full meal any decent trattoria, but it is the only place to get proper cup of tea in Rome.

Happy New Year, my darling bloglings! Thank you for reading my humble words in 2012. I promise there will be more, hopefully many more, posts in 2013. I wish you a thrilling New Year’s Eve wherever and however you might be celebrating it. Here’s to drinking in the beauty that is all around us every moment, whether simple or extraordinary, or both!

All photos by author

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Thanksgiving in Italy and a new vocabulary word

Learning a new Italian word is always fun, but learning one that even the Maritino himself does not know is exciting indeed. The fact that this occurred just in time for Thanksgiving made me particularly grateful.

So, without further ado, I give you...

La batata.

And before you think I just have a bad cold and can't pronounce my Ps at the moment, I am not talking about a patata (potato) but something much, much yummier.

The sweet potato. What Thanksgiving dinner would be complete without it? Since I humbly volunteer every year to provide the sweet potatoes for my autumnal expat-family feast (i.e. I tell everyone else they'd better not even think about making them, that they are my specialty), it may seem odd that by my 8th Roman Thanksgiving meal, I still hadn't come across this term. (Apparently, like parannanza, it is not a word that gets thrown around right and left.)

I generally wander into my local fruit stand a few days before Thanksgiving mumbling something about patate dolci and il giorno del ringraziamento. Living in Trastevere has its benefits, and one is that the green grocers and specialty stores stock Thanksgiving products this time of year, as if by magic.

But this year, with an exceptionally busy week (we don't get days off for Thanksgiving over here, unfortunately), I was short on time to do my shopping and stopped by the organic store across the street from my aparment, just on the off chance they might have some last-minute sweet potatoes.

Not only did they have the most strangely shaped (and, as it turns out, delicious) sweet potatoes I have ever respectively seen and eaten, I also noted their charming little name on the sign beside them. Batate. When, just a short time later as I was roasting them up, the Maritino asked me what that heavenly smell was (or at least, that is how I choose to recall the moment), I informed him proudly:

Sto preparando le batate!!

Patate??

No, batate!!

Che cosa sono le batate??!!

(I don't really think this dialogue requires a translation, do you?)

He didn't want to admit at first that I knew a word that he didn't. In fact, he playfully insisted that there was no such thing. I had to drag out the giant Devoti Italian-Italian dictionary, but eventually he gave in. I mean, you can't argue with Devoti. Since in the paragraph-long description, it states that batate are also known as patate dolci (literally sweet potatoes) or patate americane (American potatoes), somehow this has become my new nickname.

Photo source

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Carnival in Rome: Commedia dell'Arte in Piazza Navona!

Just a few more days until Carnevale is over and interminable Lent will be upon us! In fact this is the last weekend, and as rain is predicted for the next few days, I recommend you hurry to Piazza Navona or one of the other spots in the city where festivities are taking place today, while the sun lasts!

I happened upon this troupe of Commedia dell'Arte players yesterday afternoon and was thoroughly enchanted. Watching them ride around in their horse-drawn cart, singing Neapolitan songs, presenting puppet shoes and putting on theatrics with baroque palaces as a backdrop was enough to make me feel I had stepped back in time. Their play is called Gli innamorati immaginari (Imaginary lovers) and you can see it today at 10:30am and 4pm. Don't forget your mask and confetti! Arlequino, Pulcinella and Colombina await you!

All photos by author

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Happy (belated) Saint Valentine's Day, lovers!

I meant to post yesterday, something informative and well-researched  about the origins of Saint Valentine's Day and just who St. Valentine was, but somehow the day got away from me, so that post will have to wait until next year. I did, however, write a Valentine's day post for the blog of the wonderful Beehive Hotel, right here in Rome, recently named the No. 2 hotel in the world!! Linda, the owner and a friend of mine, asked me to write a post about my experiences getting married in Italy, and you can find it here.

But I can't resist sharing a photo, even though it does give away Maritino's real name, that I have tried so diligently to keep private! But as I said, I can't help but share this:

These adorable scrabble cookies were made by the newest baking sensation to hit Rome: Calliope Cakes. I will do a more thorough post about this amazing cake- cookie- and cupcake-baker soon, but these Valentine's day cookies were just too wonderful not to share. Here are a few other too-adorable-to-eat but too-yummy-to-resist Valentine's day cookies by Calliope Cakes:

These cookies are so intricate and skillfully done, I just can't get enough of them!

Valentine's day may be over, but guess what, people, it's Carnevale! If there was ever an excuse to stuff yourself with sinful treats, this is it!

Photo sources: 1, by author; 2, 3 by Calliope Cakes.

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Eat, drink and be merry! Carnival in Rome!

Today is the first day of Carnival, and we all know the celebrations in Rome can't rival those Venice. In fact these days no one associates Carnival with Rome. But just a few hundred years ago (the blink of an eye in Rome-time), Rome was the place to be to celebrate this raucous, bacchanalian late-winter event.

Carnival is a ten day period (in the past it was much longer and sometimes began right after Christmas, on St. Stephen's day) that directly precedes Lent, the 40-day period in the Catholic liturgical calendar that in turn precedes Easter. In the Catholic religion, Lent is a period of sober reflection and abstinence from the earthly pleasures of life. Although today most Catholics try to give up one or two things they particularly enjoy (I always try to give up sugar or chocolate), traditionally it was a time of general fasting, during which alcohol, meat and rich foods were not consumed. Carnival was the last hurrah before this strict period of restraint, and in fact the name, Carnevale in Italian, derives from the phrase "farewell to meat" as this was the last chance to eat it for a while. It could also be translated as "farewell to the flesh," and in fact, part of the reason masks were worn was to facilitate marital infidelity and other no-nos.

Detail from Carnival in Rome, Johannes Lingelbach, ca 1650

In Rome, a city that was at times repressed due to papal influence (I say "at times" because certain popes were more lascivious than kings), Carnival was celebrated with particular exuberance. (Carnival celebrations have also been linked to pre-Christian winter festivities such as Saturnalia.) In addition to masked balls, theatrical spectacles, bull fights and general carousing, the most popular pastimes took place on Via del Corso.

Roman Carnival, Ippolito Caffi

Previously called Via Lata, this wide straight road leading from Piazza Venezia to Piazza del Popolo has been an important thoroughfare in Rome since ancient times, connecting with Via Flaminia and continuing into northern Italy. During the Renaissance and beyond, it became the place to be seen during Carnival. Horse-drawn coaches would drive up and down the street, with people in garish costumes and elaborate masks greeting each other and often playing pranks. The wealthy citizens would rent rooms in the palaces that faced Via del Corso to watch the spectacle from above.

Carnival on the Corso, Ippolito Caffi

More exciting still, Via del Corso was also the site of many races (in fact, the street's name was changed for this very reason, corso in Italian means race.) Most famous was the corso dei berberi, the Race of the Berbers, when riderless Berber horses would race from the top to the bottom of Via del Corso. The empty saddles of the unfortunate creatures were studded with nails to make them run faster.

The retaking of the Berbers, Achille Pinelli, 1832

Much more hideous was the Race of the Bi-peds, in which the city's Jews, handicapped and other disadvantaged members of the population were forced to race the same street while objects were thrown at them from the jeering crowds. These barbaric traditions were outlawed in the 19th century and the 17th century respectively. The celebrations culminated on Mardi Gras, just like they do today in New Orleans and Rio de Janeiro, but the Roman grand finale was a candle race down Via del Corso in which the goal was to keep your candle lit while trying to snuff out the candles of everyone around you. No wonder there were so many fires in Rome!

The Candle race on Via del Corso, Ippolito Caffi, ca 1850

Today Roman Carnevale has become mostly a holiday for children when they dress up in costume, throw confetti and are paraded around town by their proud parents. But Rome is trying to revive the ancient traditions (without the cruel races, thankfully!) and this year a record number of events are on offer, from exhibits, to dance and music performances to balls, and most notably several equestrian shows. Events kick off tonight at the historic center of the Carnival action, Piazza del Popolo, with a performance by the orchestra of the Opera di Roma.

Visit the official site of Carnevale Romano, with a detailed list of events.

Photos 1 and 7 by Robbi Huner and Barbara Roppo, courtesy of Zétema Press Office
Other photo sources: 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

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Trastevere's Living Nativity Scene

This past Tuesday night, 20 December, our little parish in Trastevere, Santa Dorotea, staged a pretty impressive living Nativity Scene. I was expecting a couple of kids dressed as shepherds or angels draped with sheets à la The Best Christmas Pageant Ever. I was completely unprepared for a massive production that included over 50 children and dozens of adults, a children's choir, and adult choir, a violinist, a spotlight and numerous live animals. Trastevere's first Living Nativity Scene, staged in our very own Piazza Trilussa, was a resounding success, and I would be lying if I said I didn't tear up a few times during the 90 minute production. Here are a few of my own photos from the event that do not do it justice.

Seeing Mary and Joseph preparing to cross the Ponte Sisto was a magical sight. This was when I started to get as giddy as a child on, well, Christmas. I have nothing against Santa Claus, the reindeer, the tree and all the presents, but as corny as it sounds, this is what Christmas is all about for me, and seeing it reenacted, especially in my stomping ground, the neighborhood I have called home for more than seven years, was intensely moving.

One of my favorite parts of the nativity scene was the shepherds corner. They went into such detail to recreate the atmosphere and it was truly magical.

Mary and Joseph arrived to Debussy's Clair de Lune, its gentle notes overpowering the hushed square. You can see my priest in this photo, to the right of Joseph's head, the inspiring Padre Umberto Fanfarillo who organized the entire production.

See the angel playing violin?

The three wise men also arrived to gut-wrenchingly beautiful music.

A few photos of the stars.

The baby actually seemed divine: he didn't cry once, not even a peep.

This was without a doubt one of the greatest things I have ever experienced in Trastevere, including the Chocolate Festival! I hope to participate next year!

All photos by author

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All Souls' Day

After the all-important Halloween on Monday, and the, for some, even more important Ognissanto (All Saints' Day) yesterday, how about a brief tribute to today's lesser-known holiday, All Souls' Day. If Halloween is the day the dead are permitted to walk the earth, and Ognissanto is the day we celebrate all the saints in heaven, All Souls' Day is the day to reflect upon and remember those we have personally lost, and (if you're Catholic) pray for their speedy passage through Purgatory and onto Paradise.

William Adolphe Bouguereau

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Stuck in the city on Ferragosto?

Then lucky you! Because while nearly everyone you know is getting sunburnt and dehydrated under the hot August sun, or steaming in traffic, or fighting a crowd of rowdy sea-crazed Romans, or perhaps even getting stung by a jellyfish, you can immerse yourself in the air-conditioned and inspiring culture you can't find anywhere but Rome.

Ferragosto, roughly the equivalent of the UK's August bank holiday, falls every year on August 15th and is more than just a national holiday. It is the day in which the city (already half deserted) empties of all but its most stubborn inhabitants (and a few ill-advised tourists who should probably be in the south of Spain by now). The city is eerily quiet and a walk down any normally bustling street will provide nothing but closed and shuttered shops, one after the other. If you are one of the few sorry people whose great-aunt didn't leave you a beach house in her will, or whose best friend doesn't have an apartment in Sardegna, you might feel pretty sorry for yourself.

Until now.

That's because this year nearly all the civic museums in Rome will be open (despite the fact that it's a holiday and a Monday), and consequently nearly empty, so you can have all the art you want, all to yourself.

Here's a list of museums open this Ferragosto:

Museo di Roma al Palazzo Braschi, Via di San Pantaleo, 10. 9am-7pm. €9
Current exhibits: Poetry in Nature: Watercolors of Onorato Carlandi, plus a special exposition of about 70 works that have until now been kept in the museum's archives.

Museo di Scultura Antica Giovanni Barracco, Corso V. Emanuele II, 116. 9am-7pm. €5.50
Current exhibit: Along the rivers of Babylon, an istallation on the external balcony.

Museo dell'Ara Pacis, Lungotevere in Augusta. 9am-7pm. €9
Current exhibit: The Farnesina Palace and its collections, displaying works on loan from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.

Musei Capitolini, Piazza del Campidoglio, 1. 9am-8pm. €12
Current exhibits: Portraits: the many faces of power, featuring portraits of Roman leaders, and At the altar of God, an exhibit on the life of Pope John Paul II.

Museo dei Mercati Traiani, Via IV Novembre, 94, 9am-7pm. €11
Current exhibit: The photographic dream of Franco Angeli 1967-1975.

Museo Carlo Bilotti (in Villa Borghese) Viale Fiorello La Guardia. 9am-7pm. €7
Current Exhibit: Forattini. Viva l'itaglia.

Museo Pietro Canonica (in Villa Borghese), Piazza Siena. 9am-7pm. €5.50
Current exhibit: Ercole Drei: Sculptor in Rome

Musei di Villa Torlonia, Via Nomentana, 70. 9am-7pm. €5.50
Current exhibits: The unpredictable lightness of material: The art of cast iron between the 1800s and 1900s, and 100 years of Machu Picchu's revelation to the world: 1911-2011.

MACRO, Via Reggio Emilia, 54. 11am-10pm. €11
MACRO Testaccio, Via Orazio Giustiniani, 4. 4pm-12am. €5
Numerous installations and exhibits

Museo di Roma in Trastevere, Piazza Sant'Egidio 1b. 10am-8pm. €4
Current exhibits: Cuba: also an Italian story, and Che Guevara photographer

Enjoy Ferragosto!

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Celebrating Peter and Paul

Happy Saint Peter and Paul's Day!

As the patron saints of the city of Rome, their day is a special occasion (as well as a public holiday) here in the Eternal City. The day begins with a spectacular mass at St. Peter's Basilica which ends with the Pope kissing the feet of the medieval statue of St. Peter.

On tour in the basilica yesterday, as they were setting up for the big event, I was delighted to see the marvelous bronze all decked out in papal vestments and the famous three-tier papal tiara. Despite my many years in Rome, this is the first time that I have seen it all dressed up. The statue itself was almost certainly created by Arnolfo di Cambio, making it a late 13th-century work. The right foot of the sculpture protrudes slightly and for hundreds of years, faithful (and superstitious) visitors have touched, rubbed or even kissed that foot so many millions of times, that its toes have almost completely worn away.

Across town, Peter's co-honoree is celebrated at his mighty church, St. Paul's Outside the Walls with a street fair that lasts most of the day. The second largest church in Rome, and the 3rd most important (after St. John's in Lateran), deserves a post of its own, so I won't go into detail just now. Just one tiny note: even though most of what we see today is no more than 150 years old, due to the heartbreaking damage the great basilica suffered in 1823, nevertheless its external aspect, the courtyard, the columned portico, the gold mosaic facade, the dramatic pediment, is the closest Rome has to offer to what Constantine's St. Peter's Basilica must have looked like in its day.

Photo sources: 1, 2, 3

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