Today was the first day I wandered outside the Appian Walls (surrounding Rome proper). Ok, so like 10 steps outside the Appian Walls, but hey, I got out. My first stop was the Non-Catholic Cemetary and the much anticipated meeting with my own personal guardian angel. Ok what many of you may not know is that I am the BIGGEST SCARDY CAT IN THE ENTIRE WORLD and despite my previous interaction with the Capuchin Monks, the idea of going into a cemetery on an overcast day, ALONE is so not my cup of tea - I don't care WHO is buried there.
But to my surprise, this place is so lovely its almost like entering a private and well-kept park. Row after row of beautiful headstones, monuments, flowers, trees, benches and the much revered guardians of the dead - multi-colored cats. I looked towards the top of the hill and there she was, in the top row, easily spotted from the moment you enter the iron gates. The Angel of Grief - a monument to undying love by a man who died 9 months to the day after the dedication of this beautiful and moving (and much copied) work of art was completed to honor his beloved.
Now I have to admit, despite that fact that she and I are "besties", I always have a bit of trepidation when I meet with her face to face. It seems I have to be in the right "headspace" for our meetings - usually preceded by words of encouragement from a close friend who held my hand during our last encounter in New Orleans, but I figured she wouldn't be to thrilled with me calling her at 3:00 a.m. to provide me with the much needed "YOU CAN DO IT!" No, this time I needed to be "all growed up".
I took a deep breath and wound my way between the tightly placed plots of many famous and everyday non-catholic Roman citizens and expatriates before I found myself, face to face with her in all of her glorious beauty. I snapped picture after picture from every angle I could (a few of which you can see in my Picasa Webalbum) before we sat down to "chat".
Now many of you already know, I'm kinda nuts - but cut me some slack. You had any luck finding answers to the meaning of your own life on this earth? No, didn't think so. So, for 20 minutes I sat in quiet reflection "talking" with my guide. She patiently listened and at the end, despite the looming cool, gray skies, a single ray of sunshine shown down upon me. With this tears came to my eyes, and I thanked her for showing me through her beauty what love is and went on my way.
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Next stop, Ostia Antica. Ostia Antica is probably the best preserved ancient site in all of Italy, showing how ancient Romans actually lived - some say better than Pompeii. A short train ride from the Non-Catholic Cemetary (and one AWESOME serenade of "My Way" on an accordion later) I landed in the quiet little town of Ostia.
Like with the ruins in the Roman Forum, this place is SO massive that despite the countless tour buses and individuals spilling off the train, you could wander hours here, barely seeing another soul. The planning that went into ancient Roman cities was astounding - Amphitheatres, bath houses, gymnasiums, markets, government buildings, apartments, restaurants, temples, hospitals. I walked on and on until one point I was surrounded by nothing and no one but the terracotta bricks, marble remnants, mosaic floors, trees, tall grasses and flowers. It was like...heaven. There was an eerie peace in this place. It was like they were calling out to us to learn from their achievements (a remarkable sense of communal society, art and culture) and to head their warnings about their mistakes (greed and power) if we do not want to be destined to repeat them.
A few hours later I returned to Rome, looking at her through a different lens than I had the past few days. She was no longer this bustling hub of overpriced tourist attractions, cars and irritated Romans. She was instead a city, rich in history, going through yet another evolution of who she will eventually become. There seems to be an even stronger sense of preservation here than in years past - more antiquities uncovered, more of an effort to charge visitors for even a simple "peak" at their prized artifacts, security unlike any I have encountered elsewhere in the world. The Romans are a proud people and want to keep it that way.
But, I uncovered yet another dark side to this city. Today the Jewish Ghetto is a bustling center of small business with signs in Hebrew and Italian, delightful little cafes displaying the flag of Isreal and Italy, tree lined streets along the Tiber and the most beautiful Synagogue I have ever set my eyes on. But its history is tragic. In ancient and medieval times Jewish Romans were forced to either hide their religious beliefs or publicly attend Catholic Masses in modest churches constructed in the center of the neighborhood and wear yellow arm bands in order to not face persecution. In recent history, on October 16, 1943, 3,000 Jews were rounded up in the main square by the Nazi regime and shipped off to Auschwitz. Only 15 survived.
Today, signs of intolerance still abound. At each corner of the square around the Synagogue, sits a state sanctioned armed century not to mention to ever present Cabianari. For pedestrian access you must wind through these metal gates that act as deterrents for vehicles to attempting to barge through. Even the trash cans around the square have been removed.
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As I sat down to write this blog I began to wonder what all of my adventures today had in common, when the title of today's entry flying into my brain. Reflecting on the past...It is something we all must do from time to time to remind ourselves who we are, where we come from, what our ancestors created that enabled us to live the lives we have today. But the true answer is not that simple. We are much more than that. We are love, we are community, we are compassion and tolerance for ourselves and for one another. These are the lessons we are destined to learn. These are the lessons we are destined to live.
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