09 Oct 1985, Posted by Scott An Chora in Travelogue, No Comments.

10/09 St. Peter’s Basilica, Rome Italy

It was an early arrival into Rome.  I had in my pocket a few phone numbers and a couple of addresses handed to me along the way.  After two attempts at one of these addresses there still was no answer so I obtained a map and began walking towards Saint Peter’s square.  I jumped on to the subway surprised to see all the graffiti.  Unnecessary scars.  As I entered the St. Peter’s courtyard I heard whispers, like the voices of the past that never really left.  Each pillar that surrounded me gave me the impression they were watching my every step.  Just stones but they did have a way of making me feel connected to the past or were perhaps, just perhaps, waiting to greet.  The first thing I noticed as I entered through the main doors of the cathedral and approached the altar was that there were no stain glassed windows.  As I reached the main dome just left of the alter I laid down on the cold marble floor to get a unique perspective on the cathedral’s dome until a priest wandered up, kicked me and asked me to remove myself from the floor.

I took advantage of being alone and added myself to the rear of a tour.  I thought it always valuable to follow around someone who knew all its secrets.  I suppose I got lucky because this tour I kind of joined included a walk to the roof.  I tried to pay but they gestured for me to put it away.  Not only was the view of the city worth the climb but to get a look down on the altar really gives one the perspective on how large this building is.  Wandering down through the catacombs, I eventually ended up in front of the “Pieta” and must have stood there for quite some time, studying every curve.

Marble white as still moonlight, a dream carved from shapeless stone.  I am convinced that this is the pinnacle of all human art. Like trumpets heralding the coming of judgment day, lifting the Christ as our witness.  To take not just a moment but a pivotal moment in the human story and to focus the audience’s attention to the beauty of the knowledge and to place that moment in stone is unparalleled.  The posture in her hand and the look from her eyes conveyed both a gesture of sacrifice and offering captured at the same moment.  I understand something about human pride but I have a hard time understanding why Michael would place his across her blouse and blemish something that was so perfect.

Bless those hearts, who wish me well, who bring words of beauty back
no make believe, or mockery but everything, a rose should be

So beautiful, my little rose, who waits for spring, till love proposed,
Keep your thorns, save that sweetness, for awhile
and in that perfect date, unfold, spreading easily, that smile

Beautiful rose.

I began wandering the streets just south of Peter’s square.  With a map in hand and another address I sought out some locals.  I spend roughly ten minutes knocking on one door trying to get somebody to acknowledge me.  I ended up meeting his mother, who explained he was still serving in the military and that she didn’t expect him back for a few more weeks.  We’ll, so much for best made plans.  I noticed a line outside the Vatican wall was beginning to grow but it was still only about 25 percent of the designated queuing area, so I decided that this was as good time as any to see the Vatican.  I got caught wandering through the gardens and was asked to get back in the building.  I used the looking for a restroom excuse again.  From Rafael’s brush, to the statues that lined the corridors, every corner bled wealth.  I had to question the scales between the palace and the solution, it got me thinking.  There is a creative force that has established all the rules in which we live; I refer to this a God.  Clear, consistent, never contradicting and most of all with the intent of love.  I believe the praise and worship that God seeks is the loving we give to one another and nothing more.  I have read the word of others and some perspective on the subject rub me the wrong way.  I find it hard to accept that God’s design for humanity was based on the human laws of slavery.  I find hard to accept that God seeks a blood sacrifice in order to forgive or to bless.  I only know these facts: (1) I only know my environment by its appearance, (2) It appears that my space is in motion, (3) I can and will eventually die, (4) I have no direct knowledge of what death entails, (5) I value life, especially my life (6) Men and women are different, yet joined in life, (7) In order to survive, choices must be made, (8) I am curious by nature and seek truth, (9) I understand the difference between right and wrong, and the effect it had on others (10) I cry and recognize suffering, (11) I must sleep and dream to renew my strength, (12) children are our priority and (13) I am my brother’s keeper.

It seems to me that religions places a lot more emphasis on the deliverer or the delivery and neglect the actual message.  I guess it comes from the word ritual, so why would I be seeking a solution or even the truth.  Eventually those walls need to come down and be exposed to the sunlight, or we will die in its dark corners.  In the Sistine Chapel they didn’t provide anywhere to sit.  It appeared that they wanted people to come in, view the ceiling and leave.  Nobody stopped me from sitting against the wall.  I sat there putting all the pieces together in my mind and sketched out a small prayer.

Merciful God, forgive me, evil thoughts run through my mind
and I have followed in their direction, too many times
I place my faith, my love, my soul in you, for I know that in your guidance, a light will see me through

Merciful God, forgive me, all those things that I have done
I never stopped and thought of consequence, only thought of having fun
I place my faith, my love, my soul in you, for I know that in your guidance, a light will see me through

Merciful God, forgive me, I have avoided many things
Though given the opportunities, I still let it slip away
I place my faith, my love, my soul in you, for I know that in your guidance, a light will see me through

This day was beginning to come to an end and I needed to start looking for a place to spend the night.  Luckily I kept some pages from the portion of my travel guide I left behind with Jim.  I continue to reduce weight by removing sections of places I had already been or didn’t plan on visiting.  I found a nice hotel conveniently located but had to share a room with seven Americans.  These were the type of Americans that gave the rest of us a bad name.  They were loud, obnoxious and the dialog of fucking Italian chicks ever eased.  I claimed a bed and began trekking across the city, back to the train station to retrieve my bags.  When I returned my roommates suggested that I join their little group of chick hunters for dinner.  Bad idea, it was like hanging around with a bunch of fifth graders.  It’s my experience that when one fifth grader gets in trouble the rest are punished too.  They would argue which way to go, where to eat and they would rough house each other prior to approaching a young lady.  It was embarrassing.  We did managing to come to a consensus and sat down to a really nice meal and a few bottles of wine and a lot of beer.  After dinner and when our wandering reached the Spanish Steps, I had decided to hang out with the crowd there rather than continuing on their hunt.  After a few conversations I walked the Trinita Dei Monti until overlooking the Piazza Del Popolo, danced between clubs but before the sun rose I was in bed, dead tired.  Rome demands a lot of walking.