Mom and Dad in Rome

My parents arrived last Wednesday and are demonstrating extraordinary stamina. Just hours after landing, Mom was sampling water from a public drinking fountain. These fountains resemble fire hydrants and are rather dirty-looking, but the water is clean and the Romans love it. Dad remained wary, cautioning Mom "not to drink too much." Glad to report that Mom is still alive. They've seen the Colosseum, the Roman Forum, the Sistine Chapel and many churches, listening very patiently to our long commentaries. On Saturday we visited Orvieto, a walled hill-town an hour north of Rome. (Ask them about the eventful train ride there.) Dad especially likes the Italian soups.

Baseball, Italian Style

Carter and Stephen played in their first official Italian baseball game last Saturday. The parents built the field themselves, despite complaints by neighbors who wanted a soccer field instead. Baseball is not common here and the Italians who play it are renegades. But they know what they're doing and the boys love it. David and I felt as if we were watching a game back home...almost. Inning one was interrupted by a dog on the field, which ran about for some time before his owner corralled him. We could hear someone playing an accordion in the distance. Our coach moved equipment with one hand while holding a cigarette in the other. And when the score tightened, the fans began cheering wildly, "Die, Die, Die Bartolo! Die, Die Marco!" And this to the boys they were rooting for! We might use this cheer back in Lower Gwynedd and see how it goes over.

(According to the Italian dictionary, "dai" means "come on" or "go on." So it makes perfect sense, if you're Italian.)

Gypsies

Walk into an historic church or through any heavily trafficked area for that matter and you're likely to encounter a gypsy woman begging. Sometimes she will be hunched over with her forehead to the ground, arms outstretched with hands together in prayer, murmuring. Always there is a basket for coins nearby. A young gypsy woman sits by our supermarket entrance with her daughter nearly everyday. The little girl colors, looks through the glass door or eats food people give her while her mother just sits for hours. I've seen the mother get off the bus and walk to her spot, as if commuting to work. She is very attractive and appears healthy as an ox. I think to myself, why don't you knit or help people with their groceries or do something? Isn't it boring just sitting there all day? We've seen one old gypsy outside a church begging while talking on her cell phone. They can be prostrate and moaning one minute and an instant later, spry as can be, they scurry off. There seems to be a subgroup of musical gypsies who jump on trams, strum their guitars and sing for a stop or two, then jump off after passing around the basket. On one metro a tiny boy strolled down the aisle with a self-playing accordion. Carter and Stephen were somewhat offended that he wasn't actually playing the accordion for his money. Most troubling is how the gypsies exploit their children in this way. We've been told that their culture is based on cheating, stealing and begging. I've seen people give them coins and food and the Italians seem to tolerate them. What is the appropriate Christian response?

Il Casale del Ginepro

A few years ago Davide and Cristina sold their antique shop near Piazza Navona in the center of Rome and bought an 1830 farmhouse in the Umbrian countryside. They diligently restored it and plan to open a bed and breakfast, called Il Casale del Ginepro (Farmhouse among the Junipers), this summer. We spent a wonderful three days visiting them there, taking side trips to Assisi (our favorite town in all of Italy), Perugia and Deruta, which is known for its pottery. Cristina and Giovanna prepared pork roast, lasagna, spaghetti and meatballs (by request), artichokes, homemade salami and a special pie made of grain (we don't know what this was but it was delicious). The stone house has four guest rooms and sits on 2.5 hectares filled with olive and juniper trees. Davide and Cristina speak English, Portuguese, French and German and are gracious, interesting hosts. Ideally, guests would have a rental car and be comfortable around dogs, since Davide and Cristina own three German shepherds. Please contact me if you'd like more details!

Homeschooling

Generally homeschooling has gone better than I expected (thank you to Silvia, Jen and others who have been praying). On a typical weekday, David leaves the apartment early, I get up, have coffee, check email and do a few chores before the boys awake. They eat breakfast and try to start schoolwork by about 9 a.m., which seems late but we usually go to bed later here than at home. We try to put in at least three hours of work. Both boys do math almost everyday, which David corrects. Some days Carter teaches Stephen Latin (for pay) and two afternoons a week a Dartmouth student comes to the apartment to tutor Italian. I'm overseeing a few literature and writing projects. Some subjects we've put off until we get home, such as science and Carter's Latin. The boys have been for the most part cooperative, though Carter resists cello and Stephen is often distracted by the people, cats and dogs in the complex. It's also difficult to teach in this small space because everybody hears everybody's conversations, so concentration is futile. Of course the field trips are wonderful and really everyday in a foreign culture is a learning experience. In a few hours we leave for Perugia to visit Giovanna and her daughter Cristina and son-in-law Davide. They own a farm there.

Freude

As throngs headed toward St. Peter's Square this sunlit Easter, we walked in the opposite direction, to a concert hall at the other end of the street to hear Beethoven's 9th Symphony. The bass opened the choral section with one majestic word, "Freude," which means joy in German. I was relieved the symphony would not be sung in Italian, as that would diminish its power. It is one of my favorite works, sublime I think, and altogether appropriate for Easter. Lorin Maazel conducted in a modest, clear, workmanlike style, impressive considering the disparate groups under his direction. This concert followed a sunrise service high on a Borghese Park overlook. For once Rome was not busy or noisy. We even heard church bells ringing. Yesterday we saw the Catacombs of St. Domitilla. Contrary to popular belief, Christians didn't hide in catacombs to avoid Roman persecution but rather used them as burial places. These particular catacombs contained a spacious 3rd-century church, almost completely submerged, and one of the first depictions of Jesus.

Another Vote (David) for Caravaggio

For some reason, I've found the disconnect between the actual events described in Scripture, on the one hand, and, on the other, their portrayal in Renaissance art (the elaborate costumes at the Cross, the zebra-striped palace where the Annunciation occurs), more offputting this winter than on our previous visits to Italy. Caravaggio is the one consistent exception. The painting that blows me away more than any of the other wonderful Caravaggios (even more than than the Crucifixion of Peter and the Conversion of St. Paul, our previous favorites) is the Madonna of the Pilgrims, which Carter nicely described a few posts ago. There's something about the contrast between Mary's elegant maroon velvet dress and the pilgrim's dirty feet that seems intensely spiritual-- and it's perfect in its niche inside a quiet lovely church just a few feet way from the crowded Piazza Navona. Caravaggio was rebelling, apparently, against the exalted tone of prior religious art. Some people think he goes too far in the other direction, that he overly humanizes Scripture, but he seems to me to beautifully capture the spirit of the Savior who came to save the sick, not the healthy.

Menorah in Arch of Titus

A Day in Ruins

Because we purchased certain discount cards, we visited the Colosseum, Palatine Hill and the Roman Forum all in one day. These ruins completely amazed me when I first saw them in 1992. Here I was walking on paths trod by Augustus Caesar perhaps...or Peter...or Paul! That giddiness has given way to a more thorough understanding of what I'm looking at, thanks to reading we have been doing as a family. Carter thinks that the outside of the Colosseum is better than the inside (it is) and wonders why more fuss in not made about remains of Iron-Age huts, perhaps those of Romulus himself (who legend says founded Rome in 753 B.C.) on the Palatine Hill. I agree, and we've started compiling a list of underappreciated sites. Why are the Spanish Steps a must-see and the hut of Romulus virtually unknown? In the Forum we all liked the Arch of Titus, especially the panel showing victorious Romans carting off the menorah after defeating the Jews. (David noted that he didn't realize just how troublesome the Jews were for the Romans.) On another note, Stephen has found a friend in the apartment, an 11-year-old boy named Andrea. They have been playing soccer and filming special effects together with Stephen's camera. Stephen also participated in his first Italian baseball game. He didn't get to do much since it was a game for boys ages 13-15 (Carter would have played but was sick). The field was impressive. It is somehow connected to the 1960 Rome Olympics, but we're not sure how.