Roma

Before coming to Rome, I heard from people who had visited or studied here their many opinions of the city, and the general consensus wasn’t quite what one would expect. For one of the most famous cities in the world, it didn't seem like anyone had anything nice to say.

“It’s touristy”

“It’s crowded”

“It’s dirty”

I would be lying if I said it didn’t make me a little nervous, but the criticisms seemed poorly thought out, and as I mentioned in my previous blog post, I promised myself that I would keep in open mind.  

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Sunday morning I woke up at 4:45 AM. The air outside my apartment was cool, and in the quieter suburbs of the city only the sound of birds could be heard over the whisper of the gas stove. I kept the lights off and was sure to be quiet so as not to disturb my soon-to-be-hungover roommates. I sat in silence eating my toast and sipping my coffee, waiting for the night bus that would take me to my friends hostel.

I pulled on my coat and stepped out of my apartment building into the stillness of the plaza. The eeriness would have bothered me in any other city, but it doesn’t here. The dark stillness of the dawn can be disconcerting in many places, but in Rome it just doesn’t feel that way. It’s peaceful.

The bus arrived shortly, and I was soon being whipped through the dark streets with the same terrifying rattle and shake and high velocity that one would expect from Roman bus drivers. I met my friend (shout out Margaret Bickley) around 6:15 and we hurried to the metro to get to the Piazza del Populo where the sun would soon be rising over the city. 

The normally bustling Piazza was empty, save for the occasional seagull. We were worried we had missed the sunrise, but we ascended the final steps towards the top of the Piazza just in time. The soft yellow lights of Saint Peters Basilica glowed in the distance, and the morning bells of the cathedrals echoed through the streets. For a city of 2.7 million people, Rome was quiet. Calm. 

Our goal was to make it to the Vatican early, as entrance is free for the last Sunday of the month. Satisfied with the early morning views, We started heading that way, and made our way through empty streets, searching for any cafeteria where we could get a croissant. Finally we found one, and despite it being early on a weekend morning, we received the same patience and understanding for not speaking Italian that I always get from people here. 

Although I had been in Rome for about 3 weeks by this point, I had yet to visit the Vatican. I wish someone had grabbed me by the collar and yelled in my face, insisting I visit it the first thing I arrived here. In fact, I heard more people say “you can see Rome in a day” (Spoiler alert: they’re wrong) and talk about how much they liked the Pantheon or the Trevi Fountain more.

I felt lucky to have experienced the Vatican while it was mostly empty. Like the rest of the city, the basilica was quiet and calm, seemingly unaware of its own magnificence. As we passed through the vestibule into the sanctuary, Michelangelo’s Pietá sculpture sat quietly in the corner, its depiction of Mary holding her dying son appearing real, almost alive. We walked further into the hall, feeling insignificant to the sheer majesty of it.

"You are Peter, and on this rock I will build my Church, to you I will give the keys of the kingdom of heaven"

I didn’t bother to take any more pictures on the inside. I was so blown away that I couldn’t take a second to stop looking at all of it, let alone pull out my camera. Pictures wouldn't do it justice anyway. Many people were tearing up, many were praying. A group of nuns walked past me as I stared in awe at the magnitude of the altar that towered above. Small congregations of mass gathered together under beautifully intricate depictions of the gospels. Margaret and I both felt that we could have spent hours looking at the inside of the basilica, but we agreed we should climb to the top of the dome before it got busy. We did so, taking a 600 step journey that would have been much less peaceful had the normal horde of tourists been around. We stepped out onto the small balcony, and looked out towards the city.

Basically every block of Rome, no matter the wealth of the neighborhood, is covered in graffiti. There are cigarette butts on the ground everywhere and plenty of trash latching to every curb. The buses and metro are gross, and streets are worn down and broken. Below us in the city center, the tranquility of a few hours before had given way to the typical chaos. Tourists lined up around the block. Cars honked loudly in traffic. Dense crowds packed every street corner. You could say the critics were right. Yet, while I stood on the dome of the Saint Peters Basilica, none of that seemed to matter. As I looked out towards the epicenter of the greatest empire this world has ever seen, towards the inspiration of some of the most amazing artwork, architecture, and music mankind has ever produced, towards a city with endless culture and history around every corner, those criticisms felt petty. Rome is touristy. It’s crowded. It’s dirty. Like humanity itself, it is imperfect, and it is ugly. But when I took a step back and gazed upon the overwhelming beauty of it, those imperfections seemed to lose their significance.