and four days in Rome

Our first day in Rome, I was still excited to be in Italy. The swamping of Venice by tourists was down heartening, but I figured Rome would be a big city, lots of things to do, it would be able to absorb and obfuscate the tour-minded. The airport reminded me of a Fellinni film, the glamorous Italian style, the rush of modernity. I was optimistic. The bus ride was pleasant, and our room was only blocks from the central train station, where the bus dropped us off. We arrived at 10am and were told we could not check in until 4pm. So Hope and I had 6 hours to kill. It was raining lightly, but we both had spent time in Seattle, toughened by months on end of rain, and so went out into the mild weather to pass the time. Aimless, I suggested we check out the Coliseum, it wasn’t far from where we were and on the way we could get some food.



Until now everything seemed fine.
At our first meal in Rome, however, things began to turn with regard my appreciation for the culture. We were sitting outside a little pizzeria. There were two waiters. The headwaiter was Italian. The second was foreign, maybe from Southeast Asia. The headwaiter came to our table and was immediately disingenuously shmoozy in a way that was lame and creepy. He had stuff on his face, a large piece of something or other stuck to the left of his chin and his smile was more of a grimace. After taking our order he approached the second waiter and reported what we had ordered and told him to write it down.



The second waiter was clearing a table which he had moments before been commanded to do. He stopped and wrote down our order and disappeared into the restaurant. The headwaiter smile/grimaced at us. Before I go on I want to point out that I know nothing of the established relationship of these two people. I know nothing of their interaction before we sat down at the table. I can only report what I saw. But we watched, throughout our meal, the headwaiter yell and ride the second over various meaningless restaurant tasks. The second waiter stood up for himself, did his job, never got mad for the railings he got, simply went about his business. At one point, the headwaiter commanded the second go retrieve something from the kitchen. The second left and in the process dropped his pen on the ground. When the second was gone, the Head picked up the pen off the ground. I watched him do this. He held the pen with disgusts. Clicked it a few times and then tossed it back on the ground. He knew it was the seconds. Had seen him several time use it to write down the order the headwaiter delivered. He knew. And what he did next solidified my dislike for this man, that restaurant and eventually Rome in general. He actually kicked the pen into the corner behind a table, made sure that it was well hidden and looked up at me and smiled/grimaced. That act, that display of pettiness for pettiness sake we would see again. When the second came back, Hope pointed out his pen in the corner and he smiled and nodded and went about his business.
We shortly left for the Coliseum, potted the thing down a street, looming in anachronistic bravado, and walked towards it. When we reached an overlook I was at first captured by the architecture. I scanned the crumbling structure, imagining the construction, the battles, and the streams of people attending the games and then I saw the streams of tourist snaking a line out of the entrance and causing me to immediately be put off.



We walked down and found the grounds crawling with people. It started raining harder so we took shelter in one of the closed arches of the Coliseum to wait out the rain.
It was here, sheltered by the Coliseum, that I found one of the things that annoys me in this world. Umbrella salesmen who think that just because it’s raining, that I want an umbrella. Men, hundreds of them, all over the city, carried umbrellas for sale. And they would try to hard sell you a bumber like if I wanted one, I wouldn’t have bought one and they had to talk me into it. I grew up in Seattle where it rains all the time. Not life threatening or anything. And not the most measured by inches per year, but a lot, steady and all the time. I have never owned an umbrella. I get wet and then I dry. In Seattle you can spot the people who didn’t grow up there by the umbrellas. So my feeling is the same wherever I go. I can’t bring myself to buy an umbrella. I am close to doing so here in Oslo as I’ll need to draw outside even in the winter months and an umbrella will help with that. But even so I haven’t yet done it and I am trying to think of a way not to. So when the first guy asked I laughed. It was barely raining. And the second guy, not three steps behind the first, still I laughed. And as the rain increased the hard selling increased. I realize these guys need to make a living, but I don’t want an umbrella. I just don’t. I’ll wait it out or get wet. And as we stood, waiting it out, under the Coliseum, bumbermonger after bumbermonger approached demanding that we buy umbrellas and become indignant when we decline, as if I am obligated to buy a portable roof to keep of the water falling from the sky. I am not obligated. I am not. The humor quickly wore off. Because if I wanted to buy an umbrella, if I wanted one, would I not have had ample opportunity to purchase one from the four guys that just asked me.



So you, fifth salesman in line, what makes you think I want one of your umbrellas any more then I want that guys umbrellas? And it went on. And on. And on. I we wondered where they came from, all these umbrellas. Who would plan for rain in such a way? Eventually I saw a shop, an umbrella shop, filled with umbrellas and men collecting them, as many as they could carry. Salesmen. Umbrella salesmen.
The rain let up and we decided to walk up to the Pantheon. As we walked the rain came harder and then let up and stopped all together and still the guys with the umbrellas. We made it to the Pantheon, a little wet but no harm done. It started raining again and, uckily, there were guys there selling umbrellas, just in case we broke down. We didn’t.
The Pantheon was also packed with tourist. But I was there and wet and I didn’t have an umbrella so we went in.






It was perhaps, one of the most magnificent places I have ever stood in. Despite the hundreds of people taking stupid flash photography and milling about, it was still serene and mystical. The rain fell through the oculus as through a hole in the sky. Drifting down. We hung out there a while. I was awed. The porch on the Pantheon was gathering more and more people as the rain continued to pick up. Eventually Hope and I decided to go sit in a café that ringed the piazza where the Pantheon sat and have some coffee and wait out the storm sitting down. And by now it was a storm. It was two o’clock by this time so we still had some time to kill before we could check into our room. We choose a café, the closest to the Pantheon and found a table. Since we had just eaten we ordered coffee and a desert. The total of Hope’s coffee and tiramisu and my tea and chocolate cake was over twenty euros. But we were there and the rain was now actually pouring from the sky. So sitting and drinking five euro tea was all right.



The thing was the owner of the restaurant was all bent out of shape because we didn’t order food. We ordered twenty dollars worth of product. It’s not like we were drinking water. And it’s pouring down rain, pouring down rain. This group of three people comes to sit down and the waiters are asking them if they are going to order food. The owner is standing over our table yelling that they can’t sit unless they order food. Not just coffee. They say they aren’t interested in food and the waiter turns them away. Tells them they can’t sit down. Tells them to go out into the rain and find some other place to sit. Another group comes and the same thing happens and we know it’s because of us because we weren’t asked whether we were going to have food or not and they keep hovering around our table and side eyeing us like were bringing down their house. But the thing is, it’s going to cost us twenty euros to sit here out of the rain. And it’s not like we imagined we couldn’t order something. So this next group says they are interested in ordering food. And all of that would have been fine, but I swear to God the owner, a real piece of work, topped himself. As the group of four people began to order, one gentleman ordered a pizza that him and his grandmother were going to split. The waiter looked at the owner and I could see the uncertain fear in his eyes. He asked if this was all right. The owner, man this really rips into my gut, he looked at the table and said no. They had to leave. And at this time it’s really pouring rain. I mean thick sheets of rain like Noah saw. And this owner kicks this table out of his restaurant into the rain. Old ladies and all because they wanted to split a pizza. Unconscionable. And I could see maybe if the place was full of people and there were other people waiting to sit, but it was half empty. And so another example of Roman’s. I grew more and more uncomfortable with the sidelong glares and the whole situation so eventually left. Hope wanted to stay because we were paying. But to me it’s not worth it. So after I finished I went and stood under the Pantheon to wait out the storm. Hope sat for a while longer to spite the guy. Eventually she paid and when she found me she reported that they charged us 10 euros just to sit there. Amazing.

While waiting under the Pantheon porch for it to stop raining, a group of Christians from Korea began to sing gospel songs really loud. The Pantheon is currently a catholic basilica, but its origins are as a house of the roman gods, thus the name Pantheon. And I wondered if this group of people realized that that was the case and they are, in fact, worshipping in front of a pagan building. Anyway, they sang and people watched. Eventually the rain let up and it was close to four so Hope and I decided to head back to the room. Not a block away from the Pantheon the rain picked up. And picked up. And fell harder and harder until it was raining so hard that walking in it was difficult and eventually we had to stop and find shelter. The worst part was I had to find our way back without the map because I couldn’t pull it out in the rain. We are now soaked through and the rain isn’t letting up. We find shelter in an car entrance to a building and we’re not there thirty seconds when a guy comes and kicks us out. It’s literally raining so hard you can’t see across the street and this guy is like, you can’t be here, with his tsk-ing Italian disapproval. So we head out again. And there is no shelter for blocks. Eventually we find a cloths shop and stand there. But the lady comes out, and although she doesn’t tell us to leave, our being there disgusts her. She shakes her head and goes back into the shop. Eventually I tell hope we just have to keep going. It’s not going to stop and we’re already wet. Hope is reluctant, but I insist. So we head out and find our way and make it to the hostel completely soaked. The kicker is people were still trying to sell us umbrellas. I mean I am as wet as if I had just gotten out of a witch dunking and these guys are asking me if I want to buy an umbrella. How is that going to help at this point? So yeah, maybe I should have bought an umbrella earlier, but how was I to know there would be a mini biblical flood in the afternoon?
The Hotel was pleasant. We stayed in the rest of the afternoon. I eventually got some food and beer at a grocery store and we ate and drank for under 10 euros that night. I decided the next morning I would get up at 7am and go to the Coliseum before the throng of people showed up.




I was in Rome for two reasons. I figured being so close in Venice I should check it out and one of my advisors was there from UW teaching this quarter at the Rome Program. Her name is Kathryn Merlino and she is the vernacular half of my team. So I wanted to take the opportunity to talk to her about what I had done over the summer and show her some things. We had planned on this, but not set a date. So after the Coliseum I intended to go to the UW Rome Center and see if I could connect with her. I would meet Hope in the afternoon and we would go and do some stuff. The Coliseum was great in the morning. I showed up before it opened and drew for a little while. Then went in and took some photographs and read some history. After that I walked up through the ruins of the Forum and found the district where the Rome Program was located.



I found the program offices and went in. Some of the kids from UW were arriving. I knew some by site, others by name. I asked after Kathryn, but she wasn’t around that day. I left her a note saying I would come back the next day to set up a meeting. I then went and found Hope. We had lunch on the Piazza Navono. And then went to Campidoglio to see the head of Constantine.




The sculpture here was pretty cool. The head was awesome. And the building, designed by Michelangelo, was magnificent. On this trip I saw a lot of buildings that I always really wanted to see. This was one of them. I missed the bronze of Romulus and Remus suckling at the teat of the wolf. But the other sculpture was amazing. Then we walked past another of my favorite architectural items, Trajan's column.



This was a column erected for the Emperor Trajan and it contains a spiraling story carved in the column in relief. After this we headed back to the room. The next day we were heading to the Vatican.
I met Kathryn at 10am and we made arrangements to talk the following day. Then Hope and I walked up through Trastevere to a botanical garden and a nice view of the city and eventually to the Vatican. I wanted to see the Sistine Chapel, but we didn’t get there until close to three and the last people are let in at 3:15 so there was no way we were getting in there. We walked around St. Peters, I looked for something for my grandma at the Vatican gift shop, but could find nothing reasonable. Hope sent some postcards from the Vatican.




I would have too, had I had anyone’s address. I’m just not a fan of fancied up churches, and this is a pretty fancy church. I understand them in terms of architectural development, but give me a simple, understated place to worship any day and spend all that extra cash on helping people out in the world. I mean compare Gamel Aker to St. Peters, I’d rather be in Gamel Aker. Any day. So although there are some beautiful things in the cathedral, it wasn’t my favorite place as far as house of God goes. And I told Him so.








To top it off, the Vatican was over run with tourist. And it was here that I finally decided that Rome has the worst management of its tourists and tourist sights of all the places I’ve been. And that there is no respect for the sites that these people visit. I believe the Romans themselves generate this lack of respect. If they are not going to respect the cultural things that make their city great, why should the throng come to snap pictures of it respect anything about it? In their defense, Rome has been a tourist destination for more then 2000 years and I can see how that would, eventually, eat at you. But still.
After the Vatican we made our way back to Trastevere. A lot of the things I wanted to do and see in Rome were courtesy of my buddy Josh who had been to Rome the year before on the Rome Program and who had sent me an email listing the places he recommended. One of them was his neighborhood, Trastevere. And where I found Rome a disagreeable city for the most part, I like the neighborhood of Trastevere. It was filled with artists and families and people just living. The streets were quaint and quiet and there was a lot of graffiti. It’s across the Tiber from the main part of Rome.



We made our way back here and found a place to have dinner. But there is this thing I also found annoying about Italy. No one, or the few places we wanted to eat anyway, served food between 3 and 7. I understand it’s cultural, but it’s still annoying. So we had a few beers at this place and then split. Still hungry. Eventually we made it back to the area where the hostel was, planning on eating from the grocery store. But it was after nine and they were closed, so we ate at a pizzeria. It was fine. A couple of beers here and I was ready to go to sleep. Hope wanted to go out, but I’d been up since 7 and wasn’t really in the mood. Plus, unless you have someone to show you where to go, it’s a crapshoot and I didn’t feel like exploring the nightlife. Just didn’t feel like it in general the whole trip. So we turned in. I think Hope was a little disappointed by this.
The next day I got up early again, planning to make it back to Vatican to see the Sistine Chapel before I had to meet Kathryn at 1. I struck out on a different path then I had traveled thus far and ended up at Circus Maximus, which was great.



Not planning to get here and then getting here and seeing the place where they had all those chariot races. Today it just a big field with a faint bowl shape where people jog and gypsies sleep. I wonder if people running here think about how they are running in the tracks of the ancients. I would. Just walking there made me think of the races and the violence. I made it to the Vatican by 8:30. The line for the Sistine Chapel was already so large that it simply wasn’t worth it. It stretched around five blocks and it wasn’t even open yet. So I decided to skip it. There was, however, something I had neglected to do the day before. Josh had asked me if I would, when I visited the Vatican, try to locate a small door where unwanted babies are left to be raised by the church. So instead of seeing the Chapel, I walked the perimeter of the Vatican looking for this door. I found three doors. One was this back door, which I don’t think was it.



The second was a door for the Vatican train. The Vatican has it’s own train line if you didn’t know. The doors were huge steel. I found a path that lead up to the rail lines. The lines were fenced off and the path, paved, ended there. But next to the path, on the Vatican side, was a small grove of trees, which was enclosed by a waist high wall. There was a break in the wall and I figured two things, maybe the door I was looking for was back there in the grove, because I assumed a door like that would have to be both secluded and accessible and this place fit the bill. And second that those big steel doors were cool and I wanted to get a closer look. So I made my way into the grove of trees. The grove broke into a small lawn before hitting the Vatican wall and as I came out of the trees into this lawn I noticed out of the corner of my eye a couple standing there looking at me.



I glanced up and found them both with I-just-been-caught eyes. It was a young woman, pretty but street hard, and an older man, nicely dressed. I kept walking, the space wasn’t that big. I realized that I had intruded into some sort of transaction. Either at the beginning or the end of a transfer of money for sex or drugs. I walked up to the train doors. Looked at them for a moment. Nodded like I was really interested and turned around to see what they were up to. But they had left. So that was interesting. I also found this door.



Of the three doors that were accessible on the whole exterior of the Vatican, this is the most likely candidate for the baby-leaving door. But I don’t think this is it either.
I met Kathryn at 1 and we had a good talk about my thesis. She gave me some good advice and directions to go. In the afternoon Hope and I went to a couple of museums. I was ready to leave Rome and not really go back ever. That night we were going to have dinner at an another restaurant. But sitting there, looking at the prices, feeling the vibe off the waiter we deiced to just go back and have pizza and beers again. Which was fine by me. The next morning I woke up at four to catch a bus to make my flight to Paris. I left Hope in Rome. She was headed back to the states having decided that a) it was too expensive to come to Norway and dive in the North Sea and b) she had had enough time with me the last three weeks.
I made my flight and landed in Paris a 10am. It felt good to be back in Paris. I dropped off my bags and headed to the Dali museum. A collection of drawings by Dali. Illustrations for various literary works Gargantua and Pantagruel, Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, Tristan and Isolda. I liked these drawings a lot, but was disappointed there were none of his paintings there. Then I went back to the Louver and wondered around the ancient Egypt and Greece exhibits. I was exhausted and found my way back to the Hotel. I got a couple of beers and some food and ate in my room watching French television. The next day I was back in Oslo. And that was my trip to the continent.
And now here I am. I was exhausted when I got here, and a little sick. I had a cold. So I took the last week and rested. I am now getting back into the work. I visited a great church my Knut Knutson the other day. It was by Ikea, where I bought a new chair to read in. That’s pretty exciting. I’ve been sitting on crappy chairs and the bed, which is pretty uncomfortable for three months. Now I can lounge a little, be comfortable while I read. I’ve got a couple of buildings lined up to visit in the next week. And then maybe I’ll start trying to meet people at the architecture school.
To recap, Paris is the best European city I’ve been too. Bavaria has great people and good food. Venice is a charming city loaded with tourists and Italians. Rome has few redeeming qualities. Oslo is where I live.

As a side note two men just showed up at my door looking for faults in the alarm system. I told you about the first alarm that went off and how it was the middle of the night and how I had ripped the alarm from the ceiling in a confused effort to make it stop. Well, it turned out I ripped a few wires from their housing and these men were here to fix it. The alarm goes off a lot as it turns out. A couple times a week. Sometimes in the morning, sometimes in the evening. I think people are starting to ignore it because less and less people are outside waiting for the firemen to come and turn it off. I myself have thought about ignoring it figuring if it really was a fire, and my life became threatened, I could jump out the window. It’s not that high up. I am also pretty much at the exit, so unless the fire were at my door, I’d be fine. But that’s dangerous thinking. I’ll probably just leave when the alarm goes off like I have all my life. Following the alarm bell out of the building so I don’t die in the “fire”.