Today I went to the old Jewish ghetto. I thought I could get there easily by taking bus 492 that stops at Piazza Independenza, very near my hotel, but I was wrong. I took the bus all the way to the Tiber and got off but I was very far away from the ghetto. It took me over 30 minutes to walk there. I knew that you could only see the synagogue with a tour (for security reasons) and that the tour started at :15 after the hour. It was a few minutes past 12:15 when I arrived, panting and sweating.
Fortunately, they let me join the tour that had already started. The woman leading the tour spoka ina Englisha with a very heavy Italian accent. There were times I was not sure what language she was speaking. Since I missed the beginning of the tour which explained the origin of the current synagogue, I was a little lost, but I could follow most of it.
I had to put on a yarmulke when I entered the synagogue. She explained that in Rome all Jews are Orthodox, but some practice more and some less. We first saw a small chapel and then went to the main chapel, which was really beautiful and decorated in art nouveau style since it was built at the beginning of the 20th century. We were not allowed to take pictures.
From there I signed up for a tour of the ghetto which was to start at 1:15. Our guide, Claudio, spoke better English than the first tour guide. He walked us around the few blocks that used to make up the Jewish ghetto after the Pope who was in power during the counter-reformation forced all Jews inside the ghetto. He explained that in Rome, Jews had been there as long as anyone, and longer than in any other part of Europe because of their early affiliation with the Roman empire. I’m not sure if they always existed or not, but at some point restrictions were placed on the kind of work Jews could do – they were not able to join guilds, so there was a lot of work that was out of reach for them. Even the building of the synagogue had to be done by Christian builders because Jews were not allowed to engage in construction.
The area where the ghetto was is very interesting because it is one part of Rome where you can see the many layers of civilizations that are piled on top of one another. In fact, it seems like there is an entire other civilization buried under present-day Rome. It’s one reason why there are only two subway lines. Every time they begin digging for anything, they uncover another buried part of the ancient city.
From the right hand side of the synagogue, we could see ancient Roman ruins next to an 8th century guild house, next to a medieval church, next to 19th century buildings. There is only one street remaining from the original ghetto – all other buildings were cleared in the 19th century after the Jews were released from the ghetto (when Italy was unified in 1870). From the one street you could get an idea of the crowded conditions in which people lived. In a small three or four block area, over 5,000 people lived in very cramped, disease-ridden conditions. At one point the guide said, “you cannot imagine what it was like”. My first thought was, ‘yes, like present day Palestine’. I thought of a Palestinian student who was sent to my class mistakenly. After class I talked to him a little and asked him how he got out of Palestine. He told me he had won a lottery and had mixed feelings about leaving everything behind, but he said, “it is very terrible there, you cannot imagine what it is like”. The similarities were so sad for me. Here thousands of Jews were forced to live in cramped, unsanitary conditions , which allowed the Nazis, when they came, to simply seal off the ends of the streets and go door to door rounding people up for extermination. In Palestine, the conditions are similar, and rather than round people up, Israel just drops bombs. When will people learn?
I was going to eat in the ghetto at one of the Roman-Jewish restaurants, but I decided I would stick with my original plan and go to Trastevere because I wanted pasta and I wasn’t sure what was on the menus at these other places (when I return to Rome next time, I will try them).
I was really hungry since I’d only had a light breakfast in anticipation of my morning cannoli (which I had from Giulani’s, and which was as good as ever), and a sizeable lunch (I was planning on a primo and secondo plato like Italians do it).
As soon as I started seeing restaurants, I started looking for the place that would have the honor of feeding me one of my last meals. I settled on a place on a little square that had several menu options that included primo, secondo, desert, wine and all the water you could drink. It seemed like a good choice. What I didn’t take into account was how crowded the place was. There was one woman working as a server and one guy who seemed to be just bussing tables. So I had to wait a long time for my food and when it came there were often things missing, like the oil and vinegar for my salad, or my glass of wine. Even when most of the tables cleared, the service was still slow. It wasn’t that I was in a hurry or anything, but I also didn’t want to spend the entire afternoon there. The food was okay. Not my favorite meal.
I was going to come back to my hotel for a rest, but since it was my last day, I decided to head to the Pantheon one last time. I took a tram to something Argentina and then walked. I thought maybe the Pantheon would not be too crowded because it was late.
I was wrong.
After stepping inside for a few minutes and deciding I didn’t like it that much since they have converted it to a basilica (aren’t there enough churches in Rome?), I went outside and sat on a wall enjoying watching the people passing by and the beautiful colors of the orange and rust buildings in the afternoon sun.
A youngish asian couple came and sat next to me. When they sat down an older white guy said something to them in some foreign language. When they responded in English, he said, “oh you speak English, where are you from?” The woman answered, “well, we are from L.A.” The guy, who I had determined was American said, “oh, and you learned English there?” I was so embarrassed for him. Come on dude, just because they were Asian you assumed they “learned” English in the country they grew up in? If I was the woman, I would have said, “well your English is pretty good to” so that he might realize what a stupid ass he was being.
Instead, they had a nice conversation. The couple was Korean-American, their parents were born in Korea, they were born in the US. They were now living in Berlin working at a missionary school and had a group of 72 students with them touring Rome. The dumb white guy was from north of Ann Arbor, Michigan, where I guess they don’t have any Asians who speak English, and he was here with a church group. I enjoyed listening to their conversation and hearing how much they had in common and also waiting for the next opportunity for Mr. guy from Michigan to say something stupid. He did, when he said what a good job Koreans do making cars – that Hoondea – they corrected him Hyundai? Yes, my son has one and I can never pronounce it right – so much for his language skills.
I realized I was close to Giolitti, the gelateria and since it was my last day, I thought I’d get a gelato, even though I was full. I passed one place where a train of monks in gray robes entered only to realize it was also a gelateria. They had huge piles of gelato on display in their cases. I went inside and it was packed. I checked my guide book and it was listed as being famous for its Willy-Wonka like atmosphere – if that included monks in gray robes and lots of tourists, my book was right.
I didn’t like the colors of the gelato, and it was so crowded, I decided to go to Giolitti, since I knew their ice cream was good. I recognized the blue and pinkish church that I looked at when I was eating my spaghetti yesterday, so I knew I was close. Turns out the osteria I ate at yesterday was just a few doors down from the Willy Wonka gelateria, and all of this was just down the street from the Pantheon. Who knew?
I got to Giolitti and a large group of Germanish/Swissish teenagers were outside whooping it up and making a lot of noise and blocking the street. Inside the place was packed. It was a total mob scene. I have now learned that gelato is something you get at night after the tourists are gone.
I got pink grapefruit and limoncello. For some reason, I didn’t get whipped cream. I felt really sorry for the three guys behind the counter. They looked really tired and stressed.
I ate my ice cream on the steps of the Parliament building. It was quiet and shady. I then headed up the street to UPIM, a department store I read about that had prices like H&M. It was hot and the clothes were very conservative and traditional. They had sweaters and jackets out. I guess they are expecting cooler temperatures. I didn’t buy anything.
I stepped outside and waited for the 492. There were other buses that went to Termini Station, but I just wanted to get as close as I could to my hotel. I was really tired at this point.
The bus came and it was packed. I squeezed on to the rear. After we took off in rush hour traffic, moving very slowly, I noticed there was a lot of noise behind me. I could hear some guys singing in English and a group of girls chattering in English. I was thinking of what the Italians must have thought about all of this. The guys were singing all kinds of stupid songs – 99 bottles of beer on the wall, etc., when we got to Piazza Barberini, they sang, ‘Ba Ba Ba, Ba Baberini”, they sang BINGO, they sang Sweet Caroline, any song that popped into their heads. I glanced around to look at them and they looked like they might have been juniors or seniors in high school, but they could have been older. They were acting like idiots. A young woman got on and was talking on her cell phone when she heard the singing she made a comment to her friend on the phone that she had to get off because of the noise. The guy behind me heard her and commented as well. I wanted to say something to the singing idiots and let them know that they were visitors and were giving people a very bad impression of Americans, but I didn’t want to be identified with them, plus, if they didn’t already know that, I doubt they would have listened to me.
When we got to Piazza Independenza I could not wait to get off and to my surprise, they all piled off too. The rest of the passengers on the bus must have breathed an enormous sigh of relief as there were 30-40 of them, and I could not see one sign of an adult chaperone. Who were they and what were they doing in Rome and why were they unsupervised?
I came home and decided once and for all that Rome is great, but unfortunately is spoiled by the tourists. It’s a good lesson for me. I will only travel to places in the future where large tour groups do not go. I’m lucky that I’ve had lots of experiences of tour group free travel, but unfortunately, I think it has spoiled me. I think about my three weeks in Daegu when the sight of me would raise curiosity and delight in Koreans I passed at tourist sights because there were so few Western tourists. Had they had to endure the enormous groups of three-quarter length short, sandal wearing camera-clicking, English only speaking, loud and obnoxious groups that I’ve seen here, I don’t think they would have been as delighted to see me. Now my question is, if I return to Italy, where can I go that these people aren’t?
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