I read a brief passage in one of the guides about the area formerly known as the Jewish Ghetto in Rome. The original ghetto stood along the Tiber on Lungotevere di Cenci in a place where the Tiber had no walls or real banks. Water from the Tiber would flow over its edges a couple of times a year and since this part of the city sat below the level of the river, homes, businesses, shops and places of worship would get flooded. The emperor at the time decided this was the best place for the ghetto. Around 1200 AD. The ghetto went through various phases of containment; gated, curfewed, etc. As various kings and popes obtained power the restrictions became greater. Eventually Jews were forced to sell all their landed property, even that in the ghetto and pay rent instead. They were allowed only to live in the ghetto. They were allowed only one building in which to house a synagogue. For many hundreds of years the Jews of Rome were only Roman. (The Jewish population dates back to @120BC.) As Jews from other countries fled persecution (Spain, Portugal) the Jewish population diversified and Roman Jews were joined by Ashkenazi and Sephardic Jews. The community of the Ghetto created 5 synagogues within their one religious building.
The Ghetto stood and functioned for hundreds of years. In 1901 Rome, in an effort to apologize for the years of discrimination and persecution, the goverement raized the ghetto and began construction of a great synagogue on part of the land where it once stood. Oddly (to me) no Jews took part in designing the building. It was drafted by Romans and Christians. When it was complete in 1904 the king decreed it a national monument. When you stand in the center of Rome you can see the domes of St. Peter's and the synagogue. This was to be a great mark of pride, and recognition for Jews as part of the Roman community. Interestingly, during WWII, the synagogue was not harmed. An agreement was struck to not bomb and of the national monuments of Rome during the Nazi occupation. The king could not have known in 1904 that he would be saving the synagogue.
Now the first level of the synagogue building is a museum. It contains contributions from Roman families for hundreds of years. Documents, textiles, silver work, shawls, ornaments. There is actually very little about WWII overall which surprised me. I did wander about with a little of the, "Can't a People catch a break?!" feeling. I was bummed by the strict rules against taking photographs. In 1982 there was a terrorist bombing at the entrance during the Sukkot holiday. On the last day of Sukkot families bring their children to the synagogue to eat in the sukka and be blessed by the rebbi. During the bombing children were injured and one killed and ever since then they've tightened security down; no pictures, bag searches, police at the gates.
The ghetto area now is mostly the synagogue and a few kosher eateries. I found another little elbow place and had prosciutto with stewed vegetables and rigatoni pomodoro. I haven't had a meal yet that knocked me over but I also haven't left a table with any regrets or disomfort. Everything has hit the proverbial spot.
Speaking of which. I really think it is time for dinner...
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Well, that's special.
Some weeks ago I finally bit the bullet on a pair of Chaco's PedShed shoes. I love my Chaco sandals and thought these would be the perfect addition to my winter footwear wardrobe. Especially since they came with the promise of being able to go sockless for at least part of the winter given the identical eva footbed that the sandals use.
When they arrived I was pretty pleased. The leather feels soft to the touch and the sole has great flex. They just felt a little tight. So I tried out this shoe stretching trick I learned a few years ago: insert a ziplock bag into the shoe, fill part way with water and seal. Place shoe, with bag of water, in the freezer overnight. In the morning, let the shoe sit out for 10 or so minutes before removing the bag of (now) ice. Use a towel to wipe out any excess condensation or ice. Ta da! Since water naturally expands when frozen the even expansion helps stretch your shoe. Works best on leather.
So, I tried the trick. Not once, not twice but many times and still the tightness won't give. It gets the tiniest, smiggiest bit better and then, by the end of the day, they feel tight again (I blame this on my feet swelling during the day, as all our feet do.) You can imagine what it was like trying to put these closer-than-a-glove shoes on this morning. When I travel and walk a metric ton every day my feet swell and I abuse the crap out of them, making them see one more street, one more shop, one more sight before considering turning back. This morning the shoes barely went on, but they did go on. By the time I got back to the Colisseum I was dying. I pulled my Toms out of my bag and slipped them on. In comparison it felt like slipping my hurty feet into little clouds of sleepy heaven. Now, I brought the Toms thinking they would be relief shoes. I did not think I would be wearing them all day. Cause really, they're not supportive enough for that. Tomorrow it's back to the hiking boots. And when I get back stateside I will ice the Chacos. Again. And again. And again.
When they arrived I was pretty pleased. The leather feels soft to the touch and the sole has great flex. They just felt a little tight. So I tried out this shoe stretching trick I learned a few years ago: insert a ziplock bag into the shoe, fill part way with water and seal. Place shoe, with bag of water, in the freezer overnight. In the morning, let the shoe sit out for 10 or so minutes before removing the bag of (now) ice. Use a towel to wipe out any excess condensation or ice. Ta da! Since water naturally expands when frozen the even expansion helps stretch your shoe. Works best on leather.
So, I tried the trick. Not once, not twice but many times and still the tightness won't give. It gets the tiniest, smiggiest bit better and then, by the end of the day, they feel tight again (I blame this on my feet swelling during the day, as all our feet do.) You can imagine what it was like trying to put these closer-than-a-glove shoes on this morning. When I travel and walk a metric ton every day my feet swell and I abuse the crap out of them, making them see one more street, one more shop, one more sight before considering turning back. This morning the shoes barely went on, but they did go on. By the time I got back to the Colisseum I was dying. I pulled my Toms out of my bag and slipped them on. In comparison it felt like slipping my hurty feet into little clouds of sleepy heaven. Now, I brought the Toms thinking they would be relief shoes. I did not think I would be wearing them all day. Cause really, they're not supportive enough for that. Tomorrow it's back to the hiking boots. And when I get back stateside I will ice the Chacos. Again. And again. And again.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
No, America doesn't have history, it has character.
You want history? Try walking into the Colisseum and feeling old. (FYI, the Roma Pass is worth the money for skipping the lines to both the Colisseum and Forum alone. Seriously. Why waste your precious foot power on standing in line?) With construction starting in, oh, 70-72 AD it's hard to see American history as deep and long standing. Walking through the corridors and around the peritmeter I kept thinking about the people who worked on the buildings. (I visited part of the Roman Forum, as well.) Every fluted cornice, flowered edge, grooved corner, carved letter made me think of the hands that created each item. The skill and precision, great enough to last, literally, thousands of years. I would love to leave a mark like that on our world. And I am not talking about using styrofoam to create my great legacy.
Sitting inside the Forum (it seems redundant to call in the Roman Forum...) I sketched the Basillica of Fulvia-Amelia and listened to the families wander past. Everyone seems to flow along at the same sort of steady pace. Built for looking, but not too close, moving, but not too fast. The Tourist Walk. I listened to families chat about the odd cat wandering through the ruins, in places where mere tourists\mortals are no longer allowed to tread. I contemplated the oddness of an an entire city center becoming abandoned enough to go to ruin. There is something fascinating in the contrast between the soft, fleshy, impermanent bodies wandering through the grounds and the tenacious durability of the ruins themselves. it boggles me, given human tendency toward use and sprawl, that this complex came to be an empty monument, rather than a thriving, occupied part of the metropolis.
I sat and watched the crowds around Trevi Fountain, not once, but twice. In the afternoon the crowds seemed evenly spread across the fountain. In the evening the crowd was more concentrated at the front. Seeing dozens and dozens of people performing the ritual of throwing coins over their shoulders I thought about why they did it. What they knew of the legends and superstitions. I watched people creating group shots. A constant flow of excited folks up and down the surrounding stairs. The come, they toss, they snap, they leave. Although my butt was freezing from sitting on the travertine ledge I was glad to sit and watch awhile. Once the sun had gone down there was something different in the air. It seemed more romantic. More magical. Though I don't really understand what it is about night time that does that. The lights were gentle, the water all shiny. I saw a dude steal some coins (bastard) but other than that people were polite, excited, and quick.
I found a little place for dinner that struck the desired balance of price\size\proximity to the metro\offerings to win me over. The food wasn't amazing but the atmosphere was great. Families, couples, obvious friends of the owners. It was warm and warmly lit. They served the wine with a tiny clay pitcher. The gnochi was perfectly cooked. And now, once more, I must sleep. Awesome day. And several more to come.
I will have to do some picture-heavy posts when I get home. Tranfering them while I am here is a giant time suck.
Sitting inside the Forum (it seems redundant to call in the Roman Forum...) I sketched the Basillica of Fulvia-Amelia and listened to the families wander past. Everyone seems to flow along at the same sort of steady pace. Built for looking, but not too close, moving, but not too fast. The Tourist Walk. I listened to families chat about the odd cat wandering through the ruins, in places where mere tourists\mortals are no longer allowed to tread. I contemplated the oddness of an an entire city center becoming abandoned enough to go to ruin. There is something fascinating in the contrast between the soft, fleshy, impermanent bodies wandering through the grounds and the tenacious durability of the ruins themselves. it boggles me, given human tendency toward use and sprawl, that this complex came to be an empty monument, rather than a thriving, occupied part of the metropolis.
I sat and watched the crowds around Trevi Fountain, not once, but twice. In the afternoon the crowds seemed evenly spread across the fountain. In the evening the crowd was more concentrated at the front. Seeing dozens and dozens of people performing the ritual of throwing coins over their shoulders I thought about why they did it. What they knew of the legends and superstitions. I watched people creating group shots. A constant flow of excited folks up and down the surrounding stairs. The come, they toss, they snap, they leave. Although my butt was freezing from sitting on the travertine ledge I was glad to sit and watch awhile. Once the sun had gone down there was something different in the air. It seemed more romantic. More magical. Though I don't really understand what it is about night time that does that. The lights were gentle, the water all shiny. I saw a dude steal some coins (bastard) but other than that people were polite, excited, and quick.
I found a little place for dinner that struck the desired balance of price\size\proximity to the metro\offerings to win me over. The food wasn't amazing but the atmosphere was great. Families, couples, obvious friends of the owners. It was warm and warmly lit. They served the wine with a tiny clay pitcher. The gnochi was perfectly cooked. And now, once more, I must sleep. Awesome day. And several more to come.
I will have to do some picture-heavy posts when I get home. Tranfering them while I am here is a giant time suck.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
It's been a long day. Or two. Three?
I made it! And yet again find myself delicately making my way forward with an odd keyboard where all of the puntuation symbals have resettled themselves somewhere else on the board. So. You've been warned.
Where to start? How about calling everything up to stepping off of the plane in Rome a wash. (We ended up leaving Newark around 11pm? I think.) Managed to get in, get lost in the train station, pay a ransom for some Euro and SHOWERED! It was one of the most beautiful feelings in the whole world. Note to self: expect swathes of blue lint all over yourself if flying in new jeans. Even if they've been washed once.
I spent the rest of my first real evening wandering near the Spanish Steps and all of the fancy pants shops therein. So many gorgeous things, so many Euro on the price tags. The more I travel the more I see our differences overshadowed by our similarities. Kids, everywhere, are crazy. Rambunctious, wear colorful and crazy combinations of clothes, squeel with glee when playing with siblings and amazingly, they really do know how to behave to preserve parental sanity in times of need (like sleeping at the airport and getting delayed over and over again.)
I had the mini-revelation that Italians may love color in their home decor (this is something we speak of quite often at school, the European tendency toward full-throttle color in their home textiles v. Americans palettes of neutrals) but they don't seem too into it on the clothing front. Even Valentino shied away from colors outside of red, white and black. Pretty much every person I have seen since setting foot in Newark (and who could be identified as Italian) was wearing head-to-toe dark colors, well-crafted leather shoes and shiny, black puffer jackets. Stylish, perhaps. But there is a sameness, too. All that chicness creates a kind of uniform. It occured to me that Americans love of color in their day to day wardrobes is also a reflection of their stereotypical boisterous, loudness. Which makes a lot of sense.
Although it is merely 945pm I am heading in to hit the hay. I can't wait to sleep in a bed. A flat, padded surface. With blankets that will really cover me. Without my bra on. It's gonna be bliss. I've also included some photos of my adventures in Newark. Rome itself coming soon.
 |
| Early in the adventure |
I spent the rest of my first real evening wandering near the Spanish Steps and all of the fancy pants shops therein. So many gorgeous things, so many Euro on the price tags. The more I travel the more I see our differences overshadowed by our similarities. Kids, everywhere, are crazy. Rambunctious, wear colorful and crazy combinations of clothes, squeel with glee when playing with siblings and amazingly, they really do know how to behave to preserve parental sanity in times of need (like sleeping at the airport and getting delayed over and over again.)
 |
| Waking up in Newark |
I had the mini-revelation that Italians may love color in their home decor (this is something we speak of quite often at school, the European tendency toward full-throttle color in their home textiles v. Americans palettes of neutrals) but they don't seem too into it on the clothing front. Even Valentino shied away from colors outside of red, white and black. Pretty much every person I have seen since setting foot in Newark (and who could be identified as Italian) was wearing head-to-toe dark colors, well-crafted leather shoes and shiny, black puffer jackets. Stylish, perhaps. But there is a sameness, too. All that chicness creates a kind of uniform. It occured to me that Americans love of color in their day to day wardrobes is also a reflection of their stereotypical boisterous, loudness. Which makes a lot of sense.
 |
| Folks on carsousels. ON! |
 | ||
| A plane tugger with it's lonely lights on |
Although it is merely 945pm I am heading in to hit the hay. I can't wait to sleep in a bed. A flat, padded surface. With blankets that will really cover me. Without my bra on. It's gonna be bliss. I've also included some photos of my adventures in Newark. Rome itself coming soon.
Monday, December 27, 2010
Buona sera, signorina, kiss me goodnight!
I write you now from the floor of Newark airport in beautiful, snow-clad NJ. I've been on these floors for over 24 hours now and my butt is tired. My gut is tired of airport food. My phone has been my salvation; providing me with entertainment (camera, Facebook, and Netflix!) and a platform for communicating with the outside world: my insurance agent, my hostel, my family. Given my lackluster love of thumb-typing I shall give a brief, bulleted outline of events that brought us here.
-Christmas! Love, joy, food and gifts
-check facebook befire bed xmas day, learn of impending blizzard
-futile attempts to contact Delta and Alitalia to learn of cancellations
-constant checking of flight status to Rome, where I am headed for New Years
-wait over an hour on hold with my travel agent, no news but suggests I leave for the airport Right Now
-wrangle parents(who were gracious, funny and supportive) onto the road
-witness remains of several accidents enroute to Newark Int'l
- flight status still On Time
-several inches of snow on ground, lim'd visibility
-get checked in, they are trying to get us out early, WOO!
-wait. Wait some more.
-boarding! Early!
-technical issues, confusion, lights and engines shut off. Still at gate.
-sit on plane for over THREE HOURS and learn flight will be canceled. Tech issue delayed departure. Screwed.
-no answers on when airport will reopen. Vague promises of morning departure. And a meal voucher.
-find cold, hard piece of floor to call my own. Sleep fitfully. Shiver. Relocate.
-new sleep location packed. Bodies sprawled everwhere. Like India, or socks exploded from hamper. Chaos.
-manage sleep. And drool. And sleep wrinkles. On drooly face.
-wake at 630 unable to sleep further. Hear traveler say he's gonna need a hip replacement after this trip.
-confusion and rumors abound as people try to locate Alitalia staffers who have also, presumably slept on floors.
-no sight or word from Alitalia. It is 1130am
-rumors of 2pm departure. Then 4pm. Then 6pm.
-learn new plan. Get new boarding pass. It has no departure time on it.
-pace. Wait. Get new food voucher. I have been her 24 hours
- wander to baggage claim in search of outlet for phone
-witness people sleeping On Top of carousels. Under signs saying not to get on carousels.
-charge phone. Fall asleep laying inside carousel track while listening to netflix. Drool. Shiver. Wake up.
-venture back upstairs and wait like a vulture for gate hall to reopen so i can go through security. Again.
-find new outlet. Wait.
They say we'll be leaving from Newark. I won't believe it until we're an hour in the air. Not much longer now. They say. Pictures to come.
-Christmas! Love, joy, food and gifts
-check facebook befire bed xmas day, learn of impending blizzard
-futile attempts to contact Delta and Alitalia to learn of cancellations
-constant checking of flight status to Rome, where I am headed for New Years
-wait over an hour on hold with my travel agent, no news but suggests I leave for the airport Right Now
-wrangle parents(who were gracious, funny and supportive) onto the road
-witness remains of several accidents enroute to Newark Int'l
- flight status still On Time
-several inches of snow on ground, lim'd visibility
-get checked in, they are trying to get us out early, WOO!
-wait. Wait some more.
-boarding! Early!
-technical issues, confusion, lights and engines shut off. Still at gate.
-sit on plane for over THREE HOURS and learn flight will be canceled. Tech issue delayed departure. Screwed.
-no answers on when airport will reopen. Vague promises of morning departure. And a meal voucher.
-find cold, hard piece of floor to call my own. Sleep fitfully. Shiver. Relocate.
-new sleep location packed. Bodies sprawled everwhere. Like India, or socks exploded from hamper. Chaos.
-manage sleep. And drool. And sleep wrinkles. On drooly face.
-wake at 630 unable to sleep further. Hear traveler say he's gonna need a hip replacement after this trip.
-confusion and rumors abound as people try to locate Alitalia staffers who have also, presumably slept on floors.
-no sight or word from Alitalia. It is 1130am
-rumors of 2pm departure. Then 4pm. Then 6pm.
-learn new plan. Get new boarding pass. It has no departure time on it.
-pace. Wait. Get new food voucher. I have been her 24 hours
- wander to baggage claim in search of outlet for phone
-witness people sleeping On Top of carousels. Under signs saying not to get on carousels.
-charge phone. Fall asleep laying inside carousel track while listening to netflix. Drool. Shiver. Wake up.
-venture back upstairs and wait like a vulture for gate hall to reopen so i can go through security. Again.
-find new outlet. Wait.
They say we'll be leaving from Newark. I won't believe it until we're an hour in the air. Not much longer now. They say. Pictures to come.
Thursday, December 23, 2010
Sleepy, full and happy.
I traveled homeward to my parents' home in New Jersey yesterday only to arrive at an empty house. My parents were still at work and I seized the opportunity to unload my car, wrap a few last gifts and watch the rest of Weeds Season 5. By the time the 'rents rolled in the door I was relaxed, accomplished and making myself at home. I enjoyed a delicious dinner of free-range chicken and home made mashed potatoes with whole garlic cloves crushed in. Snuggling into the loft to sleep last night I thought, "This not having to work stuff is the tits!"
Waking up was yet another pleasant prospect as today held the promise of knocking a few things off of my Mom's to-do list (-->), eat a waffle with honey and peanut butter (check!) and go see Cirque du Soleil!!!!!!
You may recall that I wrote about my mother's birthday a few weeks ago and what we would be doing to celebrate further down the road. Welllll, tonight was the night! Neither of my parents had seen a Cirque performance before which made it all the more special. Sitting in the darkened arena, feeling the drums pound and the seeing the lights flash over the crowd... it was amazing. I turned to look at my mother's face and she was so totally transfixed. At some point I shared with my Mom and Sam that all of the music and vocals were live; that the singers were on stage with the other performers. Every step, every article of costuming, every prop, every note was mesmerizing. Even when the performers showed their humanity a time or two with tiny slip ups.
Today was one more awesome day in a string of what have proven to be a few fantastic weeks. The semester is wrapped, my grades are great, my RAs rocked closing, my students are all safely off on their way home, I've slept and feasted and it's not even Christmas yet. There's still time for a few more Christmas Miracles! to be had. (Whenever something goes right or well at this time of year my family is prone to shouting out, "It's a Christmas Miracle!")
Tomorrow we bake, tidy, soothe the nerves of the hostess and enjoy the sparking tree in the corner. Hurray!
 |
| I should totally have gotten this for my Mama for Xmas! |
Waking up was yet another pleasant prospect as today held the promise of knocking a few things off of my Mom's to-do list (-->), eat a waffle with honey and peanut butter (check!) and go see Cirque du Soleil!!!!!!
You may recall that I wrote about my mother's birthday a few weeks ago and what we would be doing to celebrate further down the road. Welllll, tonight was the night! Neither of my parents had seen a Cirque performance before which made it all the more special. Sitting in the darkened arena, feeling the drums pound and the seeing the lights flash over the crowd... it was amazing. I turned to look at my mother's face and she was so totally transfixed. At some point I shared with my Mom and Sam that all of the music and vocals were live; that the singers were on stage with the other performers. Every step, every article of costuming, every prop, every note was mesmerizing. Even when the performers showed their humanity a time or two with tiny slip ups.
Today was one more awesome day in a string of what have proven to be a few fantastic weeks. The semester is wrapped, my grades are great, my RAs rocked closing, my students are all safely off on their way home, I've slept and feasted and it's not even Christmas yet. There's still time for a few more Christmas Miracles! to be had. (Whenever something goes right or well at this time of year my family is prone to shouting out, "It's a Christmas Miracle!")
Tomorrow we bake, tidy, soothe the nerves of the hostess and enjoy the sparking tree in the corner. Hurray!
Monday, December 20, 2010
Repurposing, redecorating and celebrating!
Good afternoon! I write you now from the comfort and familiarity of my sofa. Drinking Blue Moon's "Winter Abbey Ale", watching old seasons of "Weeds" and renewing my holiday cheer.
Several years ago my Mom got me a silver, twiggy, fiber-optic Christmas tree. I loved it! It's been a fabulous little tree. But, somewhere, during my many house moves it seemed to have gotten a bit wobbly. I dismantled the base completely to find the source of the wobbly bits. The sleeve that held the pretty trunk of my little tree had broken off one its supports. After hunting about for alternative ways to support the base I came up with some hot glue and twist ties. The following year the base was less stable than ever and I had to prop the tree up by sliding books beneath the base on one side. It was very sad. Very Charlie Brown.
I hit on the idea of turning my dress form into the new base for my "tree". The beauty of the fiber-optic tree was that there was no need for lights. The dress form needed lights. With lights on I knew I could string her up with ornaments, topper and beads. She's a thing of beauty. I hope you enjoy her, too!
Several years ago my Mom got me a silver, twiggy, fiber-optic Christmas tree. I loved it! It's been a fabulous little tree. But, somewhere, during my many house moves it seemed to have gotten a bit wobbly. I dismantled the base completely to find the source of the wobbly bits. The sleeve that held the pretty trunk of my little tree had broken off one its supports. After hunting about for alternative ways to support the base I came up with some hot glue and twist ties. The following year the base was less stable than ever and I had to prop the tree up by sliding books beneath the base on one side. It was very sad. Very Charlie Brown.
I hit on the idea of turning my dress form into the new base for my "tree". The beauty of the fiber-optic tree was that there was no need for lights. The dress form needed lights. With lights on I knew I could string her up with ornaments, topper and beads. She's a thing of beauty. I hope you enjoy her, too!
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