© Ginda
Simpson
So what if I am barely
over jet lag from a recent trip to the United States? When I discover that Rome is to
celebrate its Notte Bianca again on September 17, I am ready to risk
knocking my biological clock off my night table. “What fun!” I muse, contemplating a
whole night in the company of possibly two million other souls, out and about,
in the streets and piazzas of Rome, where the lights will be kept on: hence the
name La Notte Bianca, meaning “The White
Night.”
Created and organized by
the Municipality of Rome and its Chamber of Commerce in cooperation with the
Ministry of National Heritage and Culture, La Notte Bianca has
great expectations for a grand turnout in spite of predictions for heavy
rainfall. For the third year in a row, the city will light up and welcome its
citizens and its visitors, inviting all to experience a night of festivity and
magic.
I call my lifelong friend,
Rita, a native of the eternal city, to ask if she is interested in accompanying
me on such an outing. It does not
take her long to cast practicality to the wind and agree to be my companion and
guide. Giorgio, her sensible
companion, bulks at invitations to join us, certain that we are slightly off our
rockers. Umm… well Rita and I
are both grandmothers.
But, oh to be young and adventurous for one bright night, in a magical
city, seems a romantic notion to us both.
“I refuse to participate
in such madness – you know this is one great big party put on by the ‘Leftists’
and the idea of gracing it with my presence makes me shudder. It’s my taxes that are paying for your
entertainment, so go, enjoy,” Giorgio offers expansively, cautioning us to be
careful. Then, thinking of his
taxes, he adds teasingly, “I hope it pours on the whole bunch of
you.”
With over 500 events to
choose from, we plan our evening in advance. There are places we want to see that for
one reason or another have eluded us over the years - some due to poor timing
and some because they are rarely open to the public. And tonight, these and many others are
opening their doors to us, most of them with no admissions fee – a generous gift
(thank you, Giorgio) in light of how costly sightseeing can be. State and private museums, villas and
gardens, theatres, libraries, churches and places of worship, shops, galleries
and restaurants have switched on their lights and have turned up the
music.
Rita, a Roman driver
extraordinaire, gets from the outskirts of the city to the banks of the Tiber in
record time. It is obvious we
will not find a parking place any closer to our first destination, so we lock up
the car and begin our jaunt to Rome’s synagogue in the Jewish Ghetto. We are as carefree as we can be,
laughing at our own madness as we open our umbrellas to shield us from the light
drizzle. The lights that bank the
river cast shimmering reflections on the surface of its fast-moving waters. The wind is picking up and in an
instant, the sky opens up and down comes a torrent of water, in gushing
cascades, sending revelers scurrying to the shelter of trees and doorways. We quickly don our raingear, plastic
ponchos that cover our clothing well, but our shoes are soaked before we even
cross over la Isola Tiberina, our footsteps splashing over the worn
stones of the oldest bridge over the Tiber still in use, built in 62 B.C. Already a line of people wraps around
the perimeter of the synagogue, but we are not so easily discouraged. We wait en masse, our linked umbrellas
forming an extended, multi-domed roof, beneath which we slither like one long,
slippery snake, towards the entrance.
I have come more then once to the gates of the Great Temple only to find
them closed, or when open, permitting worshippers only. Disappointed by my failed attempts to
see its interior, I am on a mission tonight and my obstinacy and patience are
rewarded.
The Great Synagogue, known
as the Tempio Maggiore, was constructed in 1904 on the ruins of the
abolished Ghetto. Built on the
banks of the Tiber in the heart of the city, it stands out for its unusual
architecture, its aluminum dome the only square dome to be seen above the
rooftops of Rome. The design of the
synagogue stands out as a visible celebration of freedom for the Jewish
community.
There has been a Jewish
community in the eternal city for a period that spans 22 centuries, a continuity
that has witnessed a rich cultural life that included an important rabbinical
academy where men of science and culture gathered. In 1492, a large population of Jews
migrated to Rome after their expulsion from Spain. Sixty years later, Rome’s Jewish
population was forced into the Ghetto where thousands lived side by side, the
poor alongside the wealthy, peddlers and craftsmen, bankers and
businessmen. After the unification
of Italy in 1870, Victor Emmanuel II dismantled the ghetto, granting the Jews of
Rome full citizenship. In 1943, over two thousand Roman Jews were deported. The Jewish population today numbers
around 15,000 and many Jewish families have remained in this characteristic
area, where kosher butchers and bakers are still to be found. There are several Jewish-Roman
restaurants that draw many visitors who wish to sample their unique
cuisine.
From the Synagogue, Rita
leads me through the ruins of the old fish market, which over time had grown up
under the Portico of Ottavia. Beneath these arches, the fishmongers cried out
the merits of the catch of the day.
There was a curious marble plaque that was used to measure the fish from
head to tail. If the head and upper
part of the body up to the first fin measured longer than the plaque, this
portion, considered a delicacy, had to be given up as a tribute. Tonight, I am more intrigued with the
columns and fragments of this earlier Rome as seen through the arch. The view of
the illuminated Theater of Marcellus framed by the larger stone arch of the
Portico is a picture postcard, to be sure, and it injects a surge of pleasure
through my veins. Rita knows the
intricate alleyways of old Rome and leads me through a maze of cobbled streets
till we exit onto the Via del Teatro di Marcello and now face the
Campidoglio, its facades and piazza designed by Michelangelo now softly
lit and inviting. As we round the
Piazza Venezia, passing in front of the massive Victor Emmanuel monument, I am
awed by its nighttime magnificence.
By day, it sits, imposing and awkward, in the midst of one of the busiest
thoroughfares in Rome and its elegance is lost in the raging traffic at its
feet. By night, though, it is
another vision altogether. It is as
if I am seeing it for the first time.
Stately and proud, it is a monument of white beauty, wrapped tonight in
the glistening velvet mantle of a blue-black sky.
The grandiose and modern
Via dei Fori Imperiali, built by Mussolini in the 1930’s is closed to automobile
traffic this evening. We walk arm
in arm towards the Colisseum, head-on.
With no angry traffic biting at our heels, we are free to stroll and
focus on the impressive arena with its ragged stone arches. To our right, the Roman Forum is
tantalizing with its illuminated Corinthian columns of white marble.
O, Roma, non
fa la stupida stasera.
Shamelessly, you have pulled out all
the stops. Trickling fountains and
lighted ruins, you use these charms to bewitch your visitors and I am under your
spell yet again.
Passing by the Arch of
Constantine, we hike towards the Circus Maximus. It is past midnight and we are still
going strong, Giorgio. My feet
are burning in my soggy shoes and my plastic poncho has become sauna-like. What a relief to enter the Old Roman
Houses of the Celio and remove our wet gear. Re-opened to the public in 2002, these
dwellings consisting of 20 rooms representing a complex of Roman houses from
different periods, the earliest dating from the third century. It is believed that the first residence
belonged to John and Paul, officers at the court of Constantine, martyred and
subsequently buried on the site of their home, around 361 A.D. In the fifth century, the Basilica of
Saints John and Paul was erected above the site. Discoveries made in 1887 by a priest
excavating beneath the basilica brought to light a complex of richly decorated
rooms that had been transformed into an elegant pagan house. Further archeological studies revealed
that the original structures included an apartment block for craftsmen and a
wealthy residence.
Our guide is very
knowledgeable about the stratified structures of the Celio, enlightening us to
the various aspects of ancient Roman daily life, a history told by the remnants
left behind in these rooms finely decorated with vivid frescoes. We spend more than an hour wandering
through the many layers of ancient Rome, in dwellings where daily life consisted
of earning one’s bread and enjoying one’s leisure. Not much has changed in two thousand
years!
I cannot imagine a more
pleasing way to see the Case Romane, but by soft light in the company of
a dear friend, while outside the heavens deliver a steady downpour on all who
find themselves above ground in modern Rome. When we surface, it is past one in the
morning; yet the crowds continue to enjoy “La Notte Bagnata - The Wet
Night.” Rita and I walk till my
feet can take no more; we board a bus to take us back to her parked car,
arriving home at 2 a.m. Not bad
for two grandmothers! Giorgio
is snoring contentedly on the couch in front of the TV. We feed our hunger with some Jewish
pastries that Giorgio purchased earlier and chat until four o’clock in the
morning. Before finally dropping
into our beds, we set the alarm to wake us at 6:30. An hour later we slip back out of the
house without disturbing Giorgio.
The Palazzo Farnese, home
to the French Embassy in Rome, is opening its doors to the public, a rare
occurrence indeed. We don’t want to
miss this chance to see the interior of this elegant Renaissance palace, one of
the most beautiful in Rome. We
arrive before the crowds. It is so
quiet we can hear the pigeons and the dribble of water in the fountains. Glistening filaments of water trickle
from the stone Farnese lilies into great basins of Egyptian granite taken
centuries ago from the ruins of the baths of Caracalla. Begun in 1534 and
completed fifty-five years later, the Farnese is magnificent. Michelangelo designed the famous cornice
and central loggia window above its entrance. Inside we are awed at every turn, by its
vestibule, its grand staircase, its frescoed salons and the elegance of its art
and furnishings and I wish my eye could photograph this splendor.
Giorgio later joins us and
immediately asks how we made out last night. Do I detect a hint of sadistic
pleasure as he recounts the evening news? “The weatherman reported very heavy
rains last night,” he tells us with a questioning look.
“Davvero?” I reply,
“That’s so strange. I guess we were
just lucky because we remained dry while we waited outside the Synagogue. Strange indeed, since people told us it
was raining elsewhere. Then it did
drizzle ever so lightly for the next two hours while we walked around the
city. And then it poured but only
after we were inside visiting the Roman Houses. I suppose we were just lucky, but it was
not nice of you to wish us rain,” I teased.
Giorgio doesn’t know what
to make of my version of the evening’s weather but I can see he is chewing it
very slowly, debating whether to swallow the tale I have dished up for his
mid-morning snack. To my complete amazement, he has fallen for my words. It is only then that I ask him to look
at my feet, shod in Rita’s tennis shoes three sizes too big for me. Only a man would fail to notice the
comical appearance of my clown feet.
“So,” he shrugs, “what about
them?”
I pull my own shoes from a
plastic bag. Sturdy walking shoes
of brown suede, they are now saturated, as weighty as two bricks and will take
forever to dry. Giorgio laughs at
my joke and I almost forgive him for wishing so much rain on the ‘Leftist’
populace of Rome.
La
Notte Bianca
www.lanottebianca.it