The fall of an empire, the rebirth, and the thriving in between
I woke up in Rome on November 6th. I would say that I tried to push back on the despair that consumed me that morning but it felt so immense- like a boulder on my chest- that I gave up immediately. The irony of going from Copenhagen, a city that I felt invigorated by and inspired by their communal approach to creating a better society, to Rome, the home of one of the largest empiric collapses in the known world, on Election Day was… a lot.
All year people have been, well-meaningly, joking that this November is a good time to be out of the country, but the isolation of being a million miles away on one of the most important days in our country's history was bizarre and sad. The night before, we searched for Americans to commiserate in our anxiety with and the best we could find was a couple from Belfast who offered condolences for our country and the state it’s in.
With nothing left to do but continue, we left the hostel and headed to the colosseum.
I moved like a zombie through the city, stunned to learn I had absolutely no idea who the majority of my country was. The awe and wonder of the eternal city was ash in my mouth as I feared for people I loved, for myself, my country, and grieved for the future I saw for myself just yesterday.
Between the forum and the colosseum is a church. Like most of the churches in Rome, the facade is unassuming. Plain. Boring. We wandered in in a trance. Also like most of the churches in Rome, the inside was absolutely breathtaking, completely belying the don’t-look-twice outside. Pink and green, baroque, marble columns towering over us, the space behind the altar covered in gold and blue mosaics depicting important people and parables from the Bible; an intricately carved golden ceiling, complete with filigree and symbolism, and huge sculpted flowers dotting the gridded ceiling. A feast for the eyes. A place that doesn’t hold any religious meaning for me, but felt reverent all the same.
I sat down in the first pew and began to quietly cry- the numbness finally breaking in the peaceful retreat of the sanctuary. Tourists quietly milled through the church, admiring the frescos, the sculpture, catching a glimpse of me and looking away. After many fat, hot tears had rolled down my cheeks, a woman tapped my shoulder and handed me a tissue with an understanding, sad smile. I struggled to hold back more tears as I quickly soaked it. Such a seemingly innocuous and simple act, something that took so little from her, but meant the whole world to me in that moment. In a city swarming with people who seemingly didn’t care or couldn’t relate, I felt seen and held. It reminded me that I still believe in people, that people are still good, and that we still have each other.
I had been looking forward to showing Grant Rome. I came in 2019 on a solo trip for a week, one of the bravest things I had done in my life until that point, and loved it. Rome is chaotic and magical, full of Italians yelling, mopeds zipping around cars, cars whizzing past people, warm sunsets that light 2,000 year old buildings ablaze, mouthwatering rectangular pizza sold by the kilogram. A strange collision of modern day life and the past, built up around the skeletons of a thriving ancient metropolis. It’s hard to put aside the past for the present as it stares down at you all around town.
The highlight for me-both times-has been wandering into churches, painfully boring and plain on the outside, only to have the wind sucked out of me inside. No one has churches like Rome. Every couple blocks you can find an absolutely breathtaking site that could have at least one art school text book dedicated to.
Shout out to the Medici family for making this Renaissance beauty possible
Several architectural styles exist in Rome since its been inhabited for thousands of years. The churches that I found myself drawn to were the Baroque ones, a style that, essentially, took the Renaissance style and made it even more grand, more dramatic. I read that one of the design elements of the Baroque style is to draw the viewer's eye upward, to create the illusion of looking into the heavens. I can personally attest to the effectiveness of that as I craned my neck staring up for minutes at a time, wishing I could stretch it like a giraffe to be closer to the frescos above. One of my favorites from this trip was the Chiesa di Sant'Ignazio di Loyola-a now Tik Tok famous church so you can experience a fraction of the wonder for yourself there. The Baroque style was created in response to the Protestant reformation as a way to awe the populace back into Catholicism’s arms. Propaganda, essentially. The long dead previous popes would be glad to hear that, between the other-worldly churches and the vulnerability of the moment, this life-long agnostic found herself searching for god in churches across the ancient city. I didn’t find them, but maybe I’ll have more luck in the Buddhist temples in Thailand.
With Rick Steves’ free audio guides (pro tip: never go anywhere in Europe without checking if there’s a free history guide from Rick Steves first. A European-history-tour-guide living legend) in hand, we wandered through the colosseum and Roman Forum for five hours. Let me give you the most abbreviated version of, possibly, the most influential empire in history: beginning in 500 BC, the Roman Empire grew for 500 years, peaked for 200 and fell for 300. Rome began as a democracy and Julius Cesar became its first emperor (dictator) after defeating his rival, who wanted to retain democracy, in a bloody civil war. For 200 years after Christ, Rome remained a polytheistic nation that used its military might to conquer areas from England to Africa. Rome adopted Christianity under Emperor Constantine in a last ditch effort to create harmony and unison as Christianity was globally on the rise. When Rome fell, it was split in two. The eastern part of the empire was relabeled as the Byzantine empire and consolidated power in Constantinople, today’s Istanbul. There was a vacuum of power in the western part of the former empire and what remained was divided into feudal states. Europe was plunged into the medieval period, a period of little to no cultural, artistic, economic, scholarly advancement.
view of the Temple of Castor and Pollux (constructed in 6 AD) from what would have been the home of the vestal virgins- a group of women chosen for their virginity to lead the sacrifices. These women served a term of nearly 40 years.
When Rome fell, the biggest vestiges of the empire that remained, and still persist today, were the Romance language and the Roman Catholic Church. It’s hard to not be morbidly curious about what will remain of our empire when it falls.
Rome seems to be there for me in big moments of personal growth and challenges. Something about the magic of a city, still standing after 2500 years, with all of its iterations, failures and successes on display must be healing. And the pizza, pasta, and gelato.
Florence and the rebirth
We left Rome for Florence, and later Venice, not realizing that there was meaning in the path we chose out of convenience. Like I said before, when the Roman Empire fell, the vacuum of power plunged Europe into the Dark Ages-or the medieval era-a thousand years of struggle, political and economic instability, and a lack of cultural or intellectual achievements. The Renaissance, a period of rebirth, produced new philosophies, stronger economies, and scholarly and artistic masterpieces, is often noted as the end of the medieval period and it began in little old Florence, Italy.
this is NOT the infamous Duomo. Much, much, much too small.
In Florence, unable to afford the steep museum entrance fees, we prioritized eating. Some of the standouts were: traditional florentine wild boar ragu, a perfectly simple and honest dish; pillow-soft gnocchi in mouth watering Alfredo (note that it's notcalled this at any authentic Italian place but “al burro”); an unassuming ciambella fritta that looked like a sugar donut but was so much better-perfectly chewy and airy, a balanced sweetness, and hint of lemon- and possibly my favorite thing I’ve eaten in the whole country; rich, creamy pistachio gelatos; an arancini with black squid ink and a chewy mozzarella center; a crisp, cold cannoli that they filled with fluffy mascarpone in front of us; incredibly fresh, crispy, bright haricot verts that we sautéed with garlic and spicy EVOO. Italy’s food rarely disappoints.
We saw David in the Galleria dell’Accademia and, while I didn’t think I would at first, kind of totally understood the hype. From every angle, David told a different story. Gazing at him straight on, he’s confident and cool, waiting for his perfect shot to slay Goliath, another, perhaps some doubt is creeping into his stony eyes? And the grace that the 17’ tall, butt-naked-mortal-carved-out-of-marble conveys is an impressive feat. At any moment I was sure he would reach up with his perfect hand and tousle his curly hair. I am now ruined for sculpture and will be avoiding seeing all other lifeless forms parading as sculpture for the rest of my life.
David’s hand is an extra stunning aspect of the sculpture. If you think it looks slightly disproportional, you’re right. Michelangelo made it intentionally slightly larger to indicate God’s subtle hand in helping David slay Goliath
You may have heard of the Stendhal Syndrome-the psychosomatic condition of being unable to physically process all the beauty before you-the thing I’ve been experiencing all across Europe. But did you know it’s also called Florence Syndrome? Check’s out.
The delicious food and hunky marble masterpieces aside, the thing I will remember the most about Florence was the menacingly beautiful dome of the Cathedral of Santa Maria del Florence. I, presumably like you, have seen many pictures of the infamous ruddy dome-the largest masonry dome in the world. Maybe I’m a bad judge of size (there’s a David joke in there somewhere), but my jaw dropped to the ground when we finally saw the church in all its colossal glory. So big, the church was larger than my field of vision; I couldn’t take it all in without my eyes swiveling around its gargantuan facade. I was overwhelmed with its beauty, the Florence Syndrome had sunk its teeth into me again.
The facade was decorated in a unique way that I had never seen before. Green, pink and black marble squares and rectangles standing in opposition to a stark white face. Circular windows with geometric patterns reminiscent of the Notre Dame and 15’ tall copper doors, with intricate stories cast into its panels. The white facade stretched back to the red-brown dome, nearly out of place in contrast to the clean, stark marble of the church's body. Completely opposite the many churches in Rome, the outside of the church was far more magnificent than the inside with the exception being the largest fresco in the world covering the entirety of the dome. But at that point -and I hate to admit it- we were a bit frescoed out.
This doesn’t even capture a third of the church’s facade
What started as bewildering awe soon transformed into something closer to an eerie uneasiness. The dome seemed to be watching us as we explored the different corners of the city. I looked up from a gelato shop and there it was, a mile away, staring at me. Are those it’s windows? Or some unearthly beings’ giant eyes? We strolled to dinner on the other side of town and there it was again, staring at me from across the city, lurking at the end of the gift shop lined street. We couldn’t escape it. All week I waited for the thing lying just under the ground, its head sticking up masking as the dome, to stand up and start walking through the city. Did the Florentines who made their home here hundreds of years ago live in fear or awe of the duomo? I surely was living in both.
The view from the roof of the public library- looks kinda small here
We in part owe the Bubonic plague a big thank you for all this beauty (and for the secularism, inalienable human rights, and many of the other good things we have…). Hit particularly hard by the plague, with more than 40% of the population dying, when Florence finally emerged from the grips of the pandemic, the ruling Medici family felt strongly about patronizing artists and bringing beauty back to life. And citizens felt strongly about channeling their new found gratitude for life into participating. With the patronage of the Medici family, and eventually a Medici being installed as the Pope, Renaissance ideals were able to completely reshape the art world as we know it and created several masterpieces we know and revere today, along with laying the groundwork for the evolution of art to come.
One of the key elements of humanism, the movement that propelled the Renaissance, is the emphasis on the beauty and valuation of a human life and their role in shaping their life rather than God’s. In the medieval period, the art, dark and full of suffering, mirrored the societal sentiments of the day. Art during this time was primarily used as a tool by the church to promote Catholicism through fear. Renaissance art, instead, paid more attention to the human form, the pursuit of knowledge and beauty, and, overall, a decentering of God from life and a centering of humanity. I guess I take it for granted that I don’t have to consider my life as a reflection of God’s will-gives some important context to what a big deal the Italian Masters are.
Thriving after the fall of an empire
Like many of the other people we’d met in the hostels in Italy, we were making our way north from Rome to Florence to Venice. Venice was surreal and strange-what felt like a mirage, but there we were, the hard marble bridge under our feet, the blue green water below us, crossing from one island to another. Opulent churches with bulbous domes rose above the jammed tight homes, an array of boats and gondolas darted through the canals, men tenaciously tried to sell me a single rose. Adding to the mirage effect is the specific venetian light that seemed to wash over the islands. The day we went to Burano, Venice sat hazy in the distance, like a blue-gray paper cut out. In the city, the sunlight glittered brilliantly and blindingly in the canals captured in my camera like the glint of a diamond. In the evenings, a purple glow hovered on the horizon, drenched the grandiose buildings, and bounced off the wooden speed boats as they cruised down the grand canal.
Venice, founded by refugees from the fallen Roman Empire, eventually joined forces with the Byzantine Empire and, through the power of trade and its strategic location in the lagoon, became one of the most powerful and profitable city-states in Europe during its darkest period. An incongruous and unexpected sight in the city was the first indication of the city’s reach: Islamic windows on the buildings.
As the merchants continued to trade with the increasingly muslim, Byzantine Empire, Venetians began to covet the luxurious items from the east and often incorporated Islamic styles into their homes as a show of superiority. Venice also borrowed from other worlds the merchants stepped into. This is best demonstrated in the modge-podge architectural stylings of the famous St Mark's Basilica. From the Greco columns, to the Roman arches to the Islamic domes. The church is unlike anything I’ve ever seen. Alternating colored marble columns hold up shimmering golden mosaics; the onion domes are topped like an ornate birthday cake with gilded statues and cement filigree that looks like small organic explosions of movement. Unlike the disappointingly simple interiors of the Florence duomo, the inside of this church was just as breathtaking. With nearly every surface of the walls and ceiling covered in medieval, golden mosaics, it was hard to look away from its magnificence.
Stunning and strange St. Mark’s Basilica
With only two full days in Venice, we moved as quickly as we could without feeling like we were just checking off boxes. We wandered the labyrinth of streets, each turn putting us out somewhere new and completely unpredictable, taking in the sights and artisan store fronts. We watched the sunset on Venice and wandered through the wind-whipped streets to find wine and cicchetti, their iteration of tapas.
Our second day we took a boat tour to Murano and Burano, two of the forty nearby islands famed for their glass making and lacemakers, respectively. Murano was so infamous for its stunning glass that it wouldn’t let the glassworkers leave the island for fear of the secrets leaving with them. As a consolation for their freedom they were given the same status and perks as aristocrats. While the glass is undeniably stunning, I preferred the lacework. We watched as one woman made the same stitch over and over again, creating delicate lace out of nothing, as she explained she is one of seven women that knows one of seven stitches. When she’s done with her speciality stitch, she passes it on to the next woman to expand on the beautiful piece. I love the community element of making lace like that and envied the meditative peace that it surely must bring to the women as they get lost in their craft.
Being present has been a struggle for me; It’s a challenge to align the privilege and momentum of this moment in our lives, finally following a dream of mine and shaping my own life, with the external existential threats that rear their heads daily. I’m working hard to push back on the fear of the future that lays ahead for all of us when we return home and the balance of stepping away from what I can’t control and preparing for what I can. I’m working to surrender to the moment that I’m in; to forget who I am, where I fit, and to open up to the possibilities of who I can be, and how I can see the world. As our time in Europe nears an end, I feel more settled into this lifestyle. It comes with more ease; much of the discomfort of discomfort has fallen away as it becomes more routine. And I absolutely don’t feel the same homesickness I felt just a few weeks ago. The outcome of the election, and what it says about where we are in this moment, has lent clarity to how I want to live my life right now in this time of radical uncertainty. While this realization may have come to me between bus rides throughout Italy, I hope-if it's what you need too- it can come to you from the comfort of your own couch or wherever you may be reading this.
This may be one of my favorite pictures I’ve taken on the trip. What do you think?
I’m leaving Italy with a little more understanding about the complexity and nuance of how an empire falls and what comes after it; with a full belly and body stuck deep in Florence Syndrome; and most importantly, with more determination to be present and grateful than ever.
Now, on to the former Habsburg capitals!
Ciao ciao
-Amelia
