Unexpected Delights in Rome
Planned sightseeing and famous points of interest on a trip are all well and good, but I find that what really gives a trip its spice and creates the finest lasting memories are the unexpected delights: places or events that one just trips across accidentally, spontaneous and unplanned. At lunch on Sunday we all talked about some of these and listed the bounty from our just completed trip to Rome.
Chagall exhibit
While we happened to be in Rome there was an exhibit of works by Marc Chagall: "Chagall delle meraviglie (Chagall in Wonderland)" at the Victor Emmanuel monument. I'm a big fan of Chagall, Isaac less so, but we both enjoyed the exhibit immensely. It was beautifully displayed and the space was comfortable for viewing. In one part of the gallery there were paintings in a mezzanine above the main floor from which one could look down and see two dozen large paintings in one glance, which had quite a powerful effect.
A tiny display in a small gallery at the beginning showed some mass-printed ephemera, broadsheet entertainment for the people, that had unusual images of anthropomorphized animals and people floating over villages, printed in color with big blotches of primary pigments. It was a revelation: these were the sources of so many of the at-times bizarre imagery that we associate with Chagall's iconography! It was quite a discovery for me, and has greatly filled out my understanding and appreciation of Chagall's work. Perhaps I will say more once I plow through the remarkably heavy exhibition catalog.
Tomasso in Formis
On one of our big church-touring days we were making our way from S. Stefano Rotundo to Ss. Giovanni e Paulo, under Bill's guidance since he had the oracle (i.e., the map) in hand. Partway there we encountered an open gate that led into a garden that seemed the shortest path to our destination, so in we went. What a lovely, peaceful garden it was, too! Paths, stately trees, and an abundance of blooming acanthus with very few people around. We strolled with pleasure. Along the way we saw a brick wall with an open gate in it! Well, we were accepting open-gate invitations that day so in we went.
What we found was a small, narrow but long courtyard that looked like a forgotten alleyway off another forgotten alleyway, but actually it was a tiny piazza / garden in front of an equally tiny church called San Tomasso in Formis; we had no idea what "in Formis" might mean,* but it sounds like the Latin word for "ants" so we started referring to is as Saint Thomas in Ants. According to the Churches of Rome Wiki entry:
The church is ancient, but was rebuilt in 1209 by the Trinitarian Order. It had been given to St John of Matha by Pope Innocent III two years before, and was the first seat of the Order. They also built a hospital adjacent to the church, but after it had fallen into decline it was demolished in 1925. The appellation, in Formis, refers to the aqueduct of Claudius.
The church was restored several times in the 16th and 18th centuries, and little is left of the medieval furnishings and decorations.
Relics of de Matha are preserved in the church, it seems. The church itself is tiny — smaller than most suburban houses of recent vintage in the US — but charming. The restoration and current decoration reveal little of its great age, but its location does: it's evident that its surroundings have had centuries to come and go and hide it so out of the way.
Catacombs at St. Agnese
I mentioned in my previous posting, about our morning spent at the church of Sant'Agnese outside the walls, that we hadn't really expected to tour the catacombs there, although we knew that there were catacombs. In fact, we had thought to visit the Catacombs of Priscilla, which weren't very distant; Isaac and I had been there before and enjoyed the experience.
So it came as a nice surprise that the catacombs at Sant'Agnese were open and that the guide was available to give us a tour. The three of us were joined by a mother and her two children — children who thankfully were very interested in their tour — and we had the tour in alternating Italian and English, which was fun. I thought it an extra treat that our path took us past a grate-covered window through which we could see the marble casket that held the remains of Agnes beneath the altar of the church. Catacombs are a unique experience, to be sure, and there were several points of interest in these, so I'm pleased that we got to compare it to the catacombs we had visited previously.
Chapel at Santa Maria dell'Umiltà
On our last full day in Rome, our other traveling companions, the "marys", had reservations for a Papal audience; Isaac and I went to pick up their tickets at Santa Maria dell'Umiltà, the residence for American priests doing graduate studies in Rome, which handles all such matters for American visitors. Once we were buzzed in through the inconspicuous door on the street, we found another quiet atrium where I could sit on a bench while Isaac collected the tickets. He did and joined me on the bench.
Rather suddenly a priest dashed by with a small group in tow: "Have you seen the chapel?" he called out. "No," we thought, and the implication was that we should follow him on a path that took us through corridors in the adjacent building and finally let us out at the back of a small chapel. What a chapel! Yes, it was tiny, perhaps only 12 meters long and nicely proportioned, but brilliantly decorated with artwork, mosaics, and plenty of gold. In one chapel was a painting of the Virgin of Guadalupe — our guide explained that it was the first to arrive in Europe, sometime in the 1600s. In the opposite chapel, a beautifully carved, full-sized crucifixion of wood, equally old but of unknown origin. We gawked for awhile, then our priest guide suggested that we could now pray for awhile (I gawked more), then he escorted us back to the courtyard. It almost felt as though we'd imagined it.
Salla Borromini
Late one afternoon we made our way towards Chiesa Nuova (the "new church" — built in the late 16th century — also known as Santa Maria in Vallicella), where we wished to visit. We didn't hurry because it was about 3pm and we didn't expect the church to reopen from its afternoon break until 4pm. We milled about a bit.
As we milled we discovered yet another open door, inviting us in. We found an atrium with a display of large panels about the restoration work being done there. I'm not entirely clear on what was what, but it appeared to be offices and such devoted to the Capitoline Archives, in effect an official library of the city of Rome. As we read the panels we kept seeing reference to the Salla Borromini, the name of Borromini being familiar from a number of beautiful churches he had designed in Renaissance Rome.
Well, it was not entirely clear but it seemed that the Borromini Room was a point of pride for the library. Furthermore, the notes suggested that it might be open, if one could find it someplace upstairs. So, we took to the stairs, and climbed several flights. At each turn it seemed that the building became more and more lonesome and deserted, but we persevered. Finally, at about the third floor (European counting, from the ground floor up three flights), we saw a glass-paneled door behind which we thought we could see some people moving about. Boldly, we walked in and ignored the people staring at us.
Indeed, we were in the Borromini Room. Evidently it was a slow day there because someone scurried off to find a woman (whose name I didn't catch) who could tell us about the room. She didn't speak English, but she had a relative in Boston whom she visited and perhaps she spoke Italian more slowly so that Isaac could translate — at least, that seemed to be the rationale. Indeed, she showed up and led us around the room to admire the design, the proportions, the artwork, the ceiling, the original collection of books — even the new books looked to be a couple of hundred years old. The room itself was designed in the 17th century, originally as a library, for which purpose it still served. This was clearly a point of pride.
It was fascinating and we felt that serendipity was really favoring us that day with a very special treat. As we were finishing our tour the conversation turned more personal. Where were we from, what did we do? Isaac explained that we were: 1) a Catholic priest; 2) an Anglican priest; and 3) a physicist. "Aha," she exclaimed, "you represent the three major religions!" She was manifestly pleased that we appreciated her humor.
We felt we had developed quite a rapport, and it's evident that our guide did too. As we were leaving she dashed off and returned with two copies of the historic guide to the room which she gave to us as mementos. They're in Italian, yes, but I'll spend time deciphering its mysteries nonetheless.
S. Nicola in Carcere excavations
Down from the Capitoline Museum, just past the theater of Marcellus, is a very old church called S. Nicolo in Carcere, "Saint Nicholas in Jail", dating roughly from the 8th century. (We were told that Nicholas was never in jail, but that the name referred to a nearby jail; the explanation had the air of bogus about it, but there you go.) The exterior side walls are odd looking because there are columns half buried in them. We found out why when we were offered a tour of the excavations beneath the church by a guide who spoke reasonable English. We entered the excavations through a locked gate in the confession (the area under the altar where, frequently, important relics are housed).
It was another world. The site, in ancient times, had once seen three adjoining temples, one dedicated to Janus, one to Juno, and one to Spes ("hope"). All three dated from about 250 BCE. When the current church was built it was upon the foundations of the central temple and it incorporated in its outside walls foundations and columns from the nearby temples. Under ground we saw ancient streets (very narrow), old brick arches (very shallow), and the foundation blocks that the temple columns stood on. It was fascinating, and old; when I touched those bricks I was touching probably the oldest thing created by humans that I had ever touched. It was another special adventure.
Our waiter at Ristorante da Ceci
Well, it was a pleasant and unexpected delight that the waiter at our favorite restaurant (more on that story in the fullness of time) was not only attentive, accurate, and efficient, but exceedingly cute and personable as well.