Day 3 - Rome - Chasing Caravaggio

Bonjourno from the land of history, pasta and a million tourists!

Day 3 and by 10:00 a.m. I had taken the metro from my hotel to city center, had the best coffee Rome has to offer, visited 2 churches and saw 6 difference Caravaggios. By now you are asking, um WHY? Let's just say that when one WAKES UP at 4:30 a.m. and cannot get back to sleep, its amazing how much you can accomplish all before the noon hour. Apparently sleep is optional these days.

Who is this Caravaggio chap you ask? Caravaggio is none other than Signor Michaelangelo Merisi. Like with a lot of cultures as of late, the Italians have taken to calling him my his more traditional name to get back some of original splendor of his work (kinda like Ayers Rock now being referred to by its proper Aboriginal Name - Ularu). Why am I chasing Caravaggio you ask? Well, his work is just so prolific that one just cannot DO Rome without taking in the splendor of his masterpieces...oh and the guidebook had a really kick ass tour spelled out.

Day 3 also schooled me in the many faces of the Roman popularis:

The Lovers Weddings are popular in Rome. And apparently a group activity. No need to get dressed up, buy an overpriced gift and suffer through substandard banquet food (though this is Rome, I am sure nothing is substandard about the food) when you can just hang out near some of the most gorgeous churches in Rome and catch a glimpse of a bride and her new groom not only hamming it up for their guests, but also the million tourists gathered around cameras at a ready to catch a glimpse (see pictures in the slideshow to the right).

The Women of Rome are bold, overly made up, clothed in skin tight fashion two sizes too small, and the most unthreatened creatures on the planet. The beauty of them is less obvious (which I was slightly shocked by - think Jersey Girl in many cases), but that doesn't seem to slow them down. They ARE better than the rest of us you know and if you needed further proof, of the two weddings I "attended" yesterday let's just say that it wasn't their looks that landed them those coveted Italian Stallions. But something in the eyes of their newly betrothed said it all...cara mia...that IS real love.

The Men What can any red blooded American woman say about the men in Rome. While no longer the brazen Lotharios of a bygone era, their reputations aren't for naught. Yesterday, I was stared at, gawked at, spoken to in Italian phrases that I am sure warranted a hard slap, chased up and down one set of stairs (not kidding) and passed by on a busy street only to come face to face with the same (shirtless) guy who attempted to chat me up unsuccessfully in the 4 languages he knew, none of which were English. Then there are Le Policia. I've never been a sucker for a man in uniform, but mama mia. I'm thinking it’s a requirement around here that you have to be the descendant of a Roman God to don a uniform. And do they know it. The swagger with which these Adonises carry themselves is next to none. You find your mind wondering what laws you could bend enough without getting into real trouble, just so they talk to you. What rule did I bend you ask? What makes you think that I would stoop so low...Ok fine, I put my feet in the fountain at the Piazza Venezia. I didn't bend the rules on purpose. It was flippin hot and others were doing it too! Being reprimanded with a wink and a smile was just a pleasant side effect ;)

The Expatriot Many of us who have visited Italy in the past, dream of never returning home after sampling the sweet, sweet nectar of la dolce vita. Well, I met a woman who indulged. She was a feisty older woman from Long Island with long flowing grey hair, a penchant for fashion (we met when she complimented by sundress) and a love for Peroni ("beer gives me energy" she said!!!). We chatted over our mid afternoon cocktails in Piazza del Popolo, "the most beautiful piazza in all of the world", according to my new friend. She moved to Roma 40 years ago after ending a torrid affair with a married man - she didn't want to ruin his marriage, so she went in search of her own Italian. She was a fashion designer who had made a pretty penny copying the Italian designs and importing them back to the states. She asked me what I would do here if I never returned. Go to cooking school, I replied. She smiled at this response and for a moment I wondered if she knew something I didn't. 40 years later, widowed with children, she spends her days wiling away the hours in Piazzas such as this one. "Have I told you that this is the most beautiful piazza in all of the world?" she would ask again. Starting out at the masterpiece of architecture, with the sun warming my skin, a cocktail and nibbles on my table, with nothing to do for the first time in years - I’m starting to understand why.

The Freak Factor Rome is bellicima. We get that. But it’s also got a seedy little underbelly. I'm not talking about the brutal history on which this great state was built, nor the sketchy business tucked away down narrow, cobble stoned alleys in the Testaccio. I'm talking about some of the art. Rounding out my search for Caravaggio I ran across no less than 4 paintings depicting the beheading of Holofernes in gruesome detail, David holding the head of Goliath and countless others with demons and sinners depicted in the most unpleasant of circumstances. These people need to lighten up. But probably the most CREEPILICIOUS thing I did yesterday (and some of you won't believe that I did it) was a visit to the "tomb" of the bottom of the Capucin church. Tomb is a relative word - it was more like a series of vestibules "decorated" with the bones of 4,000 Capucin monks. Decorated how you ask? Well, since it is a sacred place and the utmost reverence was requested, I couldn't take photos. Lucky for you, I didn't have to.

Interesting enough, this is where I encountered my Zen moment of the day. In the last vestibule, placed in the dirt closest to the path was a simple quote - "What you are now, we used to be. What we are now, you will be." It doesn't take me being hit over the head with the bones of 4,000 dead guys to understand that message. Life is short, just be. Now THAT is la dolce vita.