Partially Thwarted

Yesterday was a day of total thwarting. A pesto-laden sandwich exploded on my shirt right after lunch, forcing me to awkwardly hold my purse in front of myself for the rest of the afternoon. I was stared at and followed by a creepy man in the subway, who followed me through the train and seemed to be sniffing my shoulder all the way to Termini; I then went all the way to S. Paolo Fuori le Mure on the nasty B subway only to discover that I was wearing a tank top and had forgotten my sweater at school, ergo, I couldn't go in. I backtracked to the Piramide stop, intending to locate the Protestant cemetery, which was beyond where my map covers. After looking for it for half an hour, I gave up in defeat (spoiler: as I discovered today, it's behind huge walls and the entrance was a block away from where the guidebook claimed). Finally, worn out and dripping with sweat, I hit the Baths of Diocletian hoping there would be good air con in the museum, but there wasn't. Thwarted again!

Today went mostly quite well. We had a tour of Casino Ludovisi this morning, off the spectacular Via Veneto, where apparently Hollywood stars used to congregate in the heydey of Italian/American cinema. The Ludovisi family once owned huge tracts of the area, palaces, statuary collections, etc, but lost almost everything in speculation and are very snooty about what they do have left--namely, this 'casino' which is still bigger than most American mansions. There is still a prince Ludovisi, apparently. Anyway, the house is important because it contains Caravaggio's only mural work, an alchemically-themed composition that involves Jupiter, Neptune, and Pluto all seen from below, with genitals flapping in the breeze.

Following this excursion, we all split up; the art kids headed for the beach, two of my roommates went shopping, and I went...to church. Naturally! No, I headed back to San Paolo, determined to right yesterday's wrong. I think I can say, apart from the amazing innovativeness of Sant'Ivo, San Paolo wins my vote for best church in Rome. It's huge, first of all, but built on a very comprehensible basilica plan, which I love. In front of the facade of the church is a huge palm-tree-bedecked garden enclosed by a colonnade, which was just really attractive. I discovered that this past year has been the Pauline Year, opened by Benedict on June 28, 2009, so it's closing next week. Part of this celebration of the two-thousandth anniversary of Paul's birth is a new set of wooden doors, the so-called Pauline doors, depicting scenes from the saint's life, as well as a 'Pauline flame' placed in front of a statue of the saint, to which you can contribute a candle for 1 euro (I bought the candle, but I'm taking it home!).

As I approached the doors I caught the unmistakable scent of incense, which is unusual for a Catholic church except for special occasions. Then I heard the Hosanna in the Highest hymn in English, which was also surprising. As it turns out, it was an English mass, but one in which eight new priests were being ordained, hence all the incense. I haven't heard a mass in quite a long time, but it makes nice background music to exploring a basilica. I sat and watched for a little at the end--I may not be Catholic, but you must admit that no one does pomp and circumstance like they do! There must have been thirty priests up there, and at least one bishop.

After this pleasant experience, I went to Piramide again to see about this Protestant cemetery business. This time I found the entrance, and am I ever glad I did, because this had to be the most beautiful cemetery I've ever seen! Shelley apparently wrote of it that it could make one in love with death, and indeed a friend brought his heart to Rome to be buried here (the rest of him is in Florence, I think). Keats is also present, with his "one whose name was writ in water" tombstone, but there were so many others that I found incredibly moving, mostly in terms of the testimonials that these monuments provide to the level of grief and mourning of those left behind. A statue of Psyche shedding her mortality, which was erected by a husband for his wife, bore the inscription "Her loss was as that of the keystone of an arch." There were many graves of young children from the 19th century, which was sad, especially when there were multiple children of one family that had died. There were also several tombs of spouses bearing inscriptions of "Together at last," where one had died many years before the other; they remind me of my parents. The side of another tomb carried one of my favorite sayings, which I learned from Anne of Green Gables: "Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning."

So that was awesome, but after that came some thwarting. In front of the Piramide stop is where you can catch bus 118 to get to Via Appia Antica and the catacombs. The bus was supposed to come at :06, :24, and :58. I got there at 2:00 and waited until 2:45. No bus 118, though I had to watch bus 6o fly through about a hundred times. Finally I said screw it, and came home to do laundry, post photos, blog, and apologize to Carla for the communications mix-up that left her standing at the train station in Florence today thinking I was coming in! Whoops. No, tomorrow I'm off to Firenze again, albeit unexpectedly; Carla had some recent setbacks, so I thought I should pop up there while I'm, you know, in the same freakin' country!