During this week, sempre diritto reared its head once again. Literally, it means “always straight” or, straight ahead. Italians often say this when you ask for directions.
It signifies to me that I am lost.
I had a revelation: getting lost is una metafora per la vita. It is not so much that we have lost our way, but that we have found ourselves somewhere we hadn’t expected to go. Like life. Although I say this partly with tongue-in-cheek, I did discover during my 11th week in Rome the beauty of finding myself somewhere I hadn’t planned on being.
One afternoon, I set out to find the Museum of Modern Art to see a Frida Kahlo show. Not surprisingly, after I took the wrong bus, I got lost. I tried to retrace my steps–via l’autobus–and disembarked in the middle of a park. I found myself in the Villa Borghese–a lovely part of Rome which I had never visited. While looking for the museum, I came upon this precious lake where I saw swans, geese and ducks. It was a beautiful sight.
Why have anxiety about getting lost, I concluded, when there are such delights to be found.
This was just one of the experiences I had as I embraced the city I was soon to leave. At the beginning of the week, my landlady, Gina, came into my room to tell me that it was raining dirt. She stood in my room, showing me her coat, saying piove la terra. I know those words–“it is raining dirt”–but I thought certainly I misunderstood her. Of course, it does not rain dirt.
Later that day, I looked out my window and saw the street and a car coated with mud. The next day, on the front page of an Italian newspaper, I saw an article and picture of what is a common experience here: Raining Dirt. Who knew?
One evening, I was looking out my window when I saw a carload of teenagers leave a suitcase on the sidewalk and drive away. In this time of fear and bombings, I thought it strange. So, I told Gina and she called the carabinieri.
15 minutes later, two cops on motorcycles drove up, prodded the valise gently, and made several calls on their telefonini. Finally, they turned it over, saw it was bottomless, and aimed it towards us so that we could see it was empty. The teens were more likely thieves than terrorists.
On the weekend of Week 11, I attended my first Weight Watchers meeting. It felt a little like being in a coop of chickens–lots of clucking in colloquialisms I have yet to learn. Also, the group leader, though friendly and welcoming, was quite overweight. The best part of the meeting for me, however, was at the scale. For the first time since junior high, I actually weighed less than 100! Love those kilograms!!
There was a sweet poignancy about the time I had left in Rome, with just one week left of school and less than two weeks left in Italy. So, my experiences took on an edge. I wanted to continue my mission of living as a Roman, but found myself breaking out in tears at the most simple sight. I thought–it is such a rich city, and soon I shall be leaving it. Ah well, sempre diritto, sempre diritto!
Un Po P.O.V.
This stunning sculpture can be found in a church where I went to see two paintings by Caravaggio. I am struck by the erotic nature of the image.
I love the way that classic sculptors managed to get eroticism into their works–in the guise of biblical imagery. I have not been able to find out the name of the artist of this piece or the story behind the image. This woman, on a tomb in the church, is reaching out to an angel.
In churches and museums all throughout the world, you can see all manner of eroticism. I am sure I am not the first one to notice the sexy nature of Christ on the crucifixion. And, there are no end of biblical stories of men and women, sometimes even fathers and daughters, in states of nudity and provocative positions.
A familiar site around Rome, images of female saints and even the Virgin Mary, in a state of ecstasy. Religious ecstasy, of course.
Leave a Reply