La Festa de' Noantri, the festival of the Trasteverini

Festa de' Noantri procession, 1950s [source]

 

I remember that morning like it was yesterday: a bright mid-summer dawn, just weeks after moving into my dream Trastevere apartment. In a haze of grogginess and not enough sleep, I hear a booming, nasal voice. It's Sunday and seems impossibly early for whatever is happening, especially as it's happening right outside my bedroom window. 


I bury my head in my pillow as I hear a monotone voice bleating out of a loudspeaker. Yes, a loudspeaker. A half-blind glance at my phone shows it’s not even 7am. "...Madre di Dio, prega per noi peccatori..."

Madre di Dio, what the...?

This I had to see. I flop out of bed and stumble over to the window. "Ave Maria, piena di grazia..." the voice drones on. Opening the shutters, I peer below.

Festa de' Noantri, Via Garibaldi, 2010, Crazy o'clock AM

Festa de' Noantri, Via Garibaldi, 2010

Festa de' Noantri, Via Garibaldi, 2010

A procession, a full-on religious procession, was trundling past my window. There were priests, altar boys, a smattering of older ladies in somber dress. They were all doing a call-and-repeat version of the Ave Maria that I have since become much more familiar with. Oh, and they were carrying a gigantic statue of the Virgin Mary on their shoulders. One thing I have learned living in Italy is that Italians love the Virgin Mary. I mean, they love her more than Jesus. Or so it seemed to my then-non-Catholic self. I had almost literally stumbled upon the Festa de’ Noantri.

The pictures I've included here were not, of course, taken that morning, but four years later, when I was sadly packing up to leave that very same apartment and knew I was going to miss everything about it (besides the landlord).  Little did I know then that my new apartment would be on the self-same procession route. It’s actually not so improbable; the Festa de’ Noantri procession goes down practically every street in Trastevere.

For a little bit of historical background (and a break from my nonsensical reminiscing), the festival dates back to 1535 when, after a storm, a cedar statue of the Madonna was fished out of the Tiber (on the Trastevere side, let it be noted!). Exactly where the statue came from is still a mystery, but where it ended up is not. It was donated to the order of the Carmelites, and hence it became known as the Madonna del Carmine (although many still refer to it as the Madonna della Fiumarola, since it was found in the river). The statue was kept in San Crisogono, an ancient church in Piazza Sonnino, and was immediately considered the protectress of the trasteverini. The statue was eventually transferred to the unassuming church of Sant’Agata, right across the square.

Every July, the first Saturday after the 16^th to be precise, a major 8-day festival takes place in my beloved neighborhood to celebrate this “miraculous” statue (if you can consider a statue be fished out of a river a miracle). The original statue stays put in Sant’Agata (these days she’s too precious to move about), but a 19^th-century polychrome wooden copy is carried about to much fanfare and jubilation (and yes, they change her outfit every year). 

Festa de' Noantri, Pza San Francesco d'Assisi, 2012

Festa de' Noantri, Pza San Francesco d'Assisi, 2012

Festa de' Noantri, Via San Francesco a Ripa, 2012

After a goodly number of masses and benediction ceremonies, she is carried in solemn procession from Sant’Agata to the original statue’s first home, San Crisogono. But don’t think they just walk her across the square. That would be too easy. No, she is carried down Via della Lungaretta, Via della Luce and into Piazza San Francesco d’Assisi (where another celebration takes place), down Via San Francesco a Ripa, Via Natale del Grande, Via Roma Libera, and many more streets in Trastevere, until she is finally deposited at San Crisogono, where she stays for the duration of the festival.

Festa de' Noantri, Via San Francesco a Ripa, 2013

Festa de' Noantri, Via San Francesco a Ripa, 2013

Festa de' Noantri, Via San Francesco a Ripa, 2013

My friend Jill watching the procession from across the street

Then the partying begins: street concerts of traditional music (cue: Roma,nun fa’ la stupida sta sera), old folks literally dancing in the streets, stall selling porchetta in Piazza Sonnino, bersaglieri playing their trumpets while they run (seriously impressive), and endless shouts of “Evviva Maria!” to be heard at any time of day or night. At the end of the festival, the pièce de resistance is when hundreds of people line the river or stand on the bridges to watch the Madonna float down the Tiber on a boat at sunset, from Ponte Sant’Angelo to Ponte Garibaldi.

Madonna della Fiumarola, Ponte Garibaldi, 2012

Madonna della Fiumarola, Isola Tiberina, 2012

So why is it called the Festa “de’ Noantri”? The word Noantri is a dialectical version of “noi altri” (us others). This was a way the residents of Trastevere voiced their indignation at the phrase, “voi altri che abitate in altri quartieri” (you others who live in other neighborhoods), with which they were referenced by the Roman populace. They were considered 2^nd-class citizens because they lived on the wrong side of the tracks Tiber. 

I feel very differently about the Festa de' Noantri these days, and that has less to do with the fact that I'm a Catholic convert (that's a story for another post), and more to do with the fact that the procession no longer wakes me up on Sunday mornings. It still passes under my bedroom window (although I now live in a different apartment on a different street), but it does so around 7 o’clock on Saturday night instead of 7 o’clock on Sunday morning, and that makes all the difference. In fact, I’ve come to love this festival. I’m now in my 8^th year of witnessing it on my very street and it literally never gets old.

Festa de' Noantri, Piazza San Francesco d'Assini, 2012

If you happen to be in Trastevere tonight (Wed, 24 July 2013), get over to Piazza San Francesco d'Assini, stat! A brass band is playing as I write this, and who knows? Maybe the bersaglieri will show up with their fantastic feathered hats? I know I’ll be watching from my window.



Visit the festival's official site for a program of processions and events. 

All photos (except first) by author.

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Photo day: Mailing a letter to Caravaggio

I gasped and stopped in my tracks when I saw this during my Sunday walk. It's not the first time I've seen Caravaggio-inspired street art in Trastevere. The Medusa electrical box was one thing, but this made my easily excitable heart pound with unexpected delight.

It's not just because it's inspired by my favorite painter Caravaggio, or because it comes from one of my favorite of his paintings (see below), but because it features the face of a very young Mario Minniti, one of Caravaggio’s favorite models. And as much as he hates it when I say it, that handsome face, with its half-moon eyebrows, heavily lidded eyes, prominent nose and rosebud mouth, is strikingly similar to my own Maritino’s face (minus Mario's baby fat, naturally). The similarity is much more noticeable in more mature portraits of Minniti, such as the Bacchus. I would do a side-by-side comparison, but that would put me in some seriously hot water, so you’ll have to take my word for it. Keep your eye out for a post featuring the many portraits of Mario Minniti, coming soon…

The Calling of St. Matthew, Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio, Contarelli Chapel, San Luigi dei Francesi, Rome, 1599-1600

Did anyone else notice the keyhole right over little Mario's heart?

Photo sources: 1 by author; 2

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The charmed life of a foreign correspondent in Italy

Is there a journalist alive who doesn’t—at least in some small way—envy Gregory Peck’s dashing character in Roman Holiday? And it’s not just about spending 24 hours with a classy, beautiful brunette like Audrey Hepburn. What would it be like to live on Via Margutta, zip around late-1950s Rome on a Vespa, spend your evenings playing poker with the international crowd, and dash off the odd article to your paper back home?

Ah, the life of a foreign correspondent.

Well, a foreign correspondent in Italy, that is. I imagine the life of a foreign correspondent in, say, Libya or Iran (at least these days) might be slightly more dangerous and slightly less picturesque. But in Italy, can you think of a more fantastic lifestyle? Ok, ok, I’m sure it involves a good deal of work, but, oh, the payoff...

...well, you get the idea.

100 years ago, 14 foreign journalists living and working in Rome, got together in their usual haunt, Gran Caffè Faraglia in Piazza Venezia, and decided it was high time they had an official association to represent them. The Foreign Press Association was born. Today its members are numbered at 443, and hail from over 50 different countries around the world. American correspondents are outnumbered only by their German counterparts, and include one of my very favorite expat bloggers, Patricia Thomas, (Rome’s own Mozzarella Mamma herself!)

Italy as seen by the world, a new exhibit at the Ara Pacis opened last week, celebrating this important 100-year milestone. It was thrilling to see snippets of articles, headlines and magazine covers from around the world, all with the same subject: il belpaese. Some articles dated back nearly a century; others covered news stories I can well remember since my own arrival here eight years ago. 100 years of top news stories, archeological discoveries, culinary culture, destination pieces, social commentary: it’s all covered in this fascinating exhibit, the first big opening of the season.

Here are a few images from the exhibition:

Historic Archive of the first headquarters of the association

Association members in an audience with Pope John XXIII

Hitler and Mussolini, Newsweek, 1936

Il Conchiglione (The Big Shell) in the conference hall of the Foreign Press Association © Chris Warde-Jones

An article on terrorism in Italy, Der Spiegel, 1977

The death of Pope John Paul II, Paris Match, 2005

President and Mrs. Obama in an audience with Pope Benedict XVI (my photo of a photo)

I imagine it’s fascinating for Italians to witness how their country and culture is portrayed to the world at large by the pen-armed foreigners who’ve made their home here, but who nevertheless bring along their own perspective, culture and experiences. As an expat I have learned so much about my own country, simply by getting an outside look at it. This is not always pleasant. In fact, I was surprised that the inauguration was packed with Italians. I would have expected the majority of those in attendance to be the very same foreign correspondents being celebrated in the exhibit, but I rarely picked up on a foreign language or accent, although there were a few international journalistic legends (whom I would never have recognized had the Maritino not pointed them out to me).

Mayor Gianni Alemanno, Ara Pacis, © Tiffany Parks

The mayor himself was also in attendance, and I don’t mean to be mean, but this was the first time I had ever seen him live and I couldn’t stop myself humming that line from Annie (the Broadway musical, eh, NOT the film!), “What other town has the Empire State and a mayor five-foot-two?” Now, I didn’t get out my tape measure, but even standing up on the podium of the Ara Pacis, he didn’t look a hair taller than me. Rome may not have the Empire State Building, but a Fiorello Laguardia-look-alike we do have!

I learned during the press conference that the "extras" in the last scene of Roman Holiday were the actual members of Italy's Foreign Press Association in 1959! (A shocking dearth of women...) This exhibit is on for less than a month, so don’t miss it! Check out my exhibits calendar for times and dates.

 
PS After months of sporatic posting, I'm aiming to go two-for-two with a post about the new Vermeer exhibit at the Scuderie del Quirinale tomorrow, so stop by!

Photo sources: 1, 2, 

3-8 courtesy of Zetema Ufficio Stampa, 

9-10 by author, 

11

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