5-20-06

There were a number of interesting experiences today, but I would be amiss if I did not begin with the most moving of them all. Several days ago, or so it seems, in actuality it could only have been a mere two days ago, my friend asked me what was the most beautiful thing I had seen during my time in Rome. To be honest, the answer I did not want to reveal to her, was that I thought the Roman women the most beautiful in the world, but now I have a better answer, for in the Musei Capitolini I saw something that awoke a deep desire within me. I must admit that it was somewhat of a carnal desire, but a beautiful desire non the less, and one which was awaken by the craft of a long buried sculpture, so how evil could this desire be? In walking through the halls of canvases I found little to excite my interest, or awaken my passion. I saw portraits of the saints in all manner of torture and ascension. I saw the infant Christ cradled in his mothers arms, and St. Bartholomew as he was pierced with the arrows of his former friends. But as I said, these images did not interest me. Rather, it was a series of four sculptures, in the same building, but on a lower floor. These sculptures, I do not remember the names except that the plaque next to them read “Herms” and they were from a time near the birth of Christ depicted in the halls above their heads, these sculptures were the most beautiful things I have yet seen. I attempted, quickly, to copy down their main features, so that I would be able to remember them at some later point, perhaps when my artistic skills have been tried enough as to render a portrait which actually resembles its subject, and copy the details from my memory. But I doubt that the images of these four lovely will soon leave my subconscious mind. The most striking of them, was the second on the left wall when one first enters the room from the covered piazza containing Marcus Aurelia’s’ statue. Her curls come to her forehead and sweep back over her neck and down her back, she wears what would be a thin bronze headdress, her clothing blends into the torso of the statue as it is apparent that she possesses no lower extremities, and her face. Her face is what drew me to her. Her lightly arched brows, her thin nose, but most importantly her mouth. Her mouth is formed in such a way as to reveal to the spectator that this young woman knows something, the secret of life? Perhaps. But I believe it is the secret of her affections, as she looks into your eyes with her own, one is not perturbed by their lifeless marble gaze, but intrigued, intrigued to see that she is watching you watching her, intrigued to see that she enjoys your gaze, that she blossoms under your careful eye and is ready, at any moment, to part he marble lips and speak your name. That her cheeks, pulled into a knowing smile, are ready to push air across her warm tongue, past her perfect snow white teeth, to form the sounds of your name.

I did not discover this statue until the afternoon. The first part of the day consisted of walking to the Campidoglio, where our group was to meet Professor Benson, looking at the Marble Faun, and getting some lunch. The walk in the morning was uneventful. The Marble Faun was somewhat unimpressive, although I understand that the image, to Nathanial Hawthorne, may have contained all of the enthralling verisimilitude I assigned to the statue, which caught my eye. The walk out for lunch, though, was quite interesting. We walked down from the museum and crossed a few perilous Roman streets. As we were walking towards Trastevere a gentlemen stopped his car and called us over. He then proceeded to ask us for directions. We, not speaking Italian yet wishing to be useful, answered his him as best we could, pointing and gesticulating in wild fashion while loudly exclaiming, “I don’t speak Italian, but I think the Vatican is that way. Is that were you’re going? I think Trastevere is over there, I know where that is.” This “dialogue” continued until the gentlemen folded his hands together and bobbed his head a few times while saying grazi, grazi and then, pointing to a couple a few steps ahead of us, said something which I would imagine interprets as “I think I’ll just ask those kind people over there.”

After our incident with direction giving, we proceeded across Ponte Cestio to Isola Tiberina, and then across to Trastevere. Or at least we attempted to do so. We found, upon leaving Isola Tiberina, that a film crew had set up shop on the bridge and they seemed to be attempting to film some sort of melodrama, as the actress they were filming was looking longingly into the Tiber and weeping so as to make her mascara run in little rivulets down her cheeks. During a break in the filming we were able to slip across the bridge and look for something to eat, but every pizzeria and resturanta was closed down, or at least there were no customers at their tables. After wandering about for a few minutes, I hypothesized that they were all attending the wedding, which was taking place in one of the churches in the area. All of the cars had little white bows on them as though gift wrapped especially for the occasion. We decided after a few minutes to cross back to the Isola Tiberina and try our luck with the little pizzeria there. It was delicious. We sat at a small table looking out towards San Bartolomeo and enjoyed what I would call sandwiches, because I am not sure of their Italian name.

Then I went to our local grocery store and picked up a fish, a lemon, a red pepper and some sort of spice I couldn’t identify. I think that the fish was some sort of trout. It was an interesting experience because I didn’t know how to order the fish; I just sort of pointed and said “that one.” The guy behind the counter was very nice about it, he weighed it and asked if I needed more, I said “no” and then he asked if I wanted it cleaned. When I got back to the apartment I tried to look up some fish recopies online, but our connection here comes and goes, so I had to sort of make it up as I went along. I cut the head off, and then tried to peel off the skin. That only half worked. Then I tried to cut the fish into two halves, and that half worked. I got one side pretty nicely, but the other side was mangled. So I took the good side, which still had the skin on it, and rubbed some garlic and lemon and pepper and mystery spice onto it and grilled it using the grill feature of our microwave. That turned out really nicely, even I was impressed. Then I took the remainder of the fish and cooked that with the peppers in some olive oil and put it over some of the fresh pasta I had picked up on Tuesday. Then I went to bed.