Too Many Churches

Today I decided to go to church since tomorrow is Sunday and churches won’t be on the agenda. I won’t be free to stick my nose in every little nook and cranny and take photos while services are going on.

I started with Maria della Vitoria – a small church that has the Bernini statue of Saint Teresa de Avila being pierced by an angels sword which sent her into ecstasy. I find the whole story from what I understand of it, to be a little fishy, kind of like that virgin birth thing. What was St. Teresa really up to and who was the “angel”? I checked out a few other churches in the same area that were pretty unremarkable other than being kind of dank and mildewy. All of the churches had women standing outside and begging. They looked like gypsies – not the heavy rosemary-pushing gypsies like in Spain, but thing, sad looking women, one with a baby. All of the churches also had signs in several languages warning of pickpockets.

From there I went to San Geronimo in Laterano (I think that is what his name is) which according to my guide book was supposed to be magnificent. I was unimpressed. I think I’ve already OD’d on all of this Catholic stuff, especially after the Vatican yesterday. From what I can remember there were some nice mosaics and tile work in the floor, and some really big statues, but otherwise, it left me feeling kind of cold. I think I was really lucky that the first church I stumbled across the first day was one of the most beautiful I’ve seen with its blue ceiling and stars and frescoes and candles and people praying, it felt like a church and not a barn like some of these others do.

From there, I stepped across the street because I saw a huge tour group entering another church that had some mosaics outside. I thought maybe I had somehow missed it in my planning. It wasn’t on my agenda to see, but it seemed like it might be worth it.

It seemed to take extra long for the tour group to get inside and when I entered, I saw why. People were crawling up this flight of stairs on their knees. I knew from my guide book that this was the church that had what was supposedly the staircase from Pontius Pilate’s house that Jesus walked up. It was a wooden staircase but it was covered in marble. I found the whole thing dubious. Supposing there really was a historical person named Jesus, what is to say there is really a wooden staircase under those marble stairs and if there is, what is to say they are from Pontius Pilate’s house and that Jesus actually walked on them? I think it is just another one of the stories that have been woven to get people to believe the myth, like the little statue in Costa Rica that mysteriously kept appearing for the little indigenous girl in the forest, or the Virgin of Guadalupe in Mexico who appeared on a cloth to Juan Diego or whatever his name is. I find a lot of these stories, virgin births and resurrections included, to be on par with Romulus and Remus and the she-wolf that suckled them.

Fortunately, there were two other sets of stairs next to the Jesus ones and I went up one to find a fairly unremarkable church. I went down the other and left.
From there I headed towards the Colosseum to visit the Basicila of San Clemente. It also had some nice mosaics, but no photos were allowed, so after a quick visit, I left.

I found myself in front of “Coming Out” a little gay café/restaurant/bar/whatever, right on the corner with a perfect view of the Colosseum. I had kind of planned on eating there at some point and today seemed like the right time since I was there.
I ordered a pizza with sausage and mushrooms and an aranciata (orange soda). The guy who was running the place was not Italian, he looked Indian or Bangladeshi or something. He was in a very bad mood. He did not seem happy that he had customers. Maybe I was there too early or something. He was mopping the floor, smoked a cigarette and then when he was done, he started trying to flag down tourists who were obviously not gay. The pizza was not among the best I’ve had here, the crust was kind of rubbery and hard to cut. I won’t be going back.
From there I walked with huge groups of tourists around the Colosseum. They entered the entrance for Palantine Hill, part of the ruins of the Roman Forum, and I continued walking to see the Boca della Verita – the mouth of truth. It is this kind of hideous round stone with a face carved in it that has a big mouth. Legend has it if you put your hand inside and tell a lie the mouth will bite your hand off. Apparently during the filming of Roman Holiday, Gregory Peck pretended it bit off his hand and freaked out Audrey Hepburn. I will have to watch that movie again to see that scene.

There was a long line of tourists standing in the little building that housed it and when they got their turn, they walked up and stuck their hand inside and turned around for someone to take their picture. Again, I don’t get it. They are supposed to tell a lie or the truth and see if it bites their hand off. It should have bitten their hand off for being foolish.

From there I crossed the river to Trastevere. I found the world’s smallest inhabited island, Tiburtino, which is in the middle of the Tiber. It wasn’t that interesting. There was a church (of course) and a hospital, a gelateria and a café. And a woman begging. That was about it. I headed to Trastevere to see if I could figure out where the old Jewish ghetto was. I was looking for the synagogue which Rick Steves said was to your left with your back to the river. I didn’t see it. Instead I walked around and really regretted going to that gay café and having mediocre pizza when there were so many places to eat in Trastevere. I finally stopped at the Piazza de Santa Maria in Trastevere and just watched people for a while. Some teenage Italian boys were hanging out and playing with this thing on a string that a guy in Granada was performing with next to the river one day when I had lunch. I couldn’t see him, but I heard him. When he finished he came around and asked for money. I told him I didn’t see anything. These guys were just playing and didn’t ask anyone for money.

I returned home by heading across the bridge that went through Tiburtino. As soon as I got to the other side I saw a sign saying there was a Jewish history museum. From the shape of the building, I recognized it as the synagogue. Turned out Rick Steves was wrong and my guide book did have the ghetto on the right side of the river. I walked through a little and saw lots of Roman-Jewish restaurants that were closed because it was Saturday. I kept walking straight because I wanted to get to the place where I got my granita yesterday.

A different guy was working and before I placed my order he gave me a taste of the fico di India (prickly pear). The flavor was beginning to grow on me. It was obvious they were pushing it. I got lemon with a little melon. The lemon was great, the melon was so-so. I sat in Campo di Fiori which was just at the end of the morning market and people were in the process of dismantling their stalls. It was fun to watch the few remaining vendors interacting – lots of hand gestures flying around.

I took the number 64 bus back to Termini Station. The 64 is notorious for pickpockets (so I’ve read) because it is the bus that does the loop around the main tourist spots. Fortunately, I got on early enough and got a seat. It got more and more crowded as we neared the station.

At one point a huge group of young Italians got on. They all had interesting haircuts, piercings, were wearing scarves, and one boy was eating a huge sandwich with what looked like fresh mozzarella and tomatoes. They were funny to watch. At one point some of the girls got really excited and started speaking loudly and the boys shushed them. It was interesting to note the difference between then and what would be normal teenage behavior on the bus in San Francisco.

I stopped at the “drugstore” in Termini Station that doesn’t sell drugs and bought some apples, water and a few other things and came back to my hotel to take a nap. My plan was to go out around 7, which I thought would be early enough to return to Trastevere to have a nice dinner before the crowds.

I found out from the guy at the desk that the H bus goes to Trastevere. At 6:30 I went to the station to look for the H but did not find it. All buses had numbers but the platforms were lettered. I thought maybe he was mistaken, so I asked at the information counter. She told me bus H from platform F (that didn’t make a lot of sense to me). Sure enough the H came, I got on and soon it was packed. As it rambled towards Trastevere, it got more and more crowded. I was sitting facing an older woman and a younger guy and the guy’s friend was next to me. They were speaking Spanish. The woman started speaking very loudly in Spanish on her cell phone. It turned out they were all from Peru. They didn’t know each other before, but started talking. But first the woman was having a conversation with her friend on the phone. She was telling her friend how much work there was. She said she worked 10 hour days. I guess her friend didn’t want to work that much, so the woman said, you can work five hours, you can work 3 hours, you can work 6 hours, you can work 4 hours, and the conversation went on like that for what seemed like forever, with the woman telling her friend how much money she could earn for each increment of hours.

Finally she finished and started talking to the boys. The guy next to me was not happy in Rome. He was going back to Peru. He had thought it would be different – Europe, you know? It reminded me of the immigrants who come to the US and expect the streets to be paved with gold and instead find themselves cleaning sewers.
The bus seemed to be going pretty far before crossing the bridge. I knew once we crossed the river, I should get off. Finally we crossed the river and I squeeze my way off the bus to find myself in totally unfamiliar and kind of scary environs. I had no idea where I was. I knew I could walk to the area of Trastevere that I was familiar with if I followed the river, but I didn’t know how far it was. I ended up getting on another bus and returning to Boca della Verita and just walking from there.

Trastevere was packed, there were even big tour groups. I was very disappointed. All of the restaurants were full, the streets were packed, and I was hoping that my little find, being kind of out of the way would not be as full as everything else. To top it off there was a demonstration going down the main street. I arrived at the Taverna della Scala and it was also full. There were only tables inside which I decided was fine because people don’t smoke inside.

I ordered a salad with braseola (I wasn’t sure what it was), rucula and grana cheese, saltimbocca roman (veal with ham in some kind of sauce) and asparagus. Everything but the asparagus was good – the asparagus was overcooked and tough. It was a shame, because I love asparagus when it is done right. They cooked it like my mother does. I guess it’s the Italian way. I had pannacotta for desert.
I walked back to the Boca della Verita and caught a bus home.

It is interesting riding the regular buses because they also go through the route that passes many of the monuments. It’s kind of a trip to be on a regular bus with no music and narration and be passing these old Roman ruins or grand monuments and no one really paying attention to them.

So, what I learned today was that Trastevere is really great in the afternoon, late afternoon especially on a weekday. At night it is a mob scene and for me, to be avoided. I will return maybe tomorrow to check out the synagogue and maybe try another place for lunch. In the morning I am going to the Barberini museum because they have some Caravaggios. No churches tomorrow.