Parco Gianicolense. I had never heard or seen the name before I spotted it on my paper map of Rome last Saturday afternoon. I was looking for sites in my neighborhood to check out, as I really hadn’t explored Trastevere as extensively as I had other parts of Rome.
It turns out Gianicolense is a public hilltop park that offers spectacular views of the entire city of Rome. And it was right in my backyard! It took me less than ten minutes to walk to the park from my apartment here in Trastevere.
What I saw when I got to the top of the hill blew me away. The view from the top was nothing less than a picturesque panorama of Rome. Looking out at the city, I was able to pick out many of the landmarks that I’ve already visited, from the Pantheon (wide grey dome on left side of the picture) to the Altare della Patria “wedding cake” monument of Vittorio Emanuel II (big white structure on the right side). My favorite aspect of the view, however, was the dark outline of the Apennine Mountains that frames the whole scene from a distance.
 |
| View of the city from near Parco Gianicolense |
The park’s name, derived from the
Italian name for the hill it sits on, Gianicolo, is translated into English as “Janiculum”. The name derives from “Janus”, the two-faced
Roman god, as the hill was once used as a pagan shrine. Interestingly, The Janiculum Hill is not one
of the legendary “Seven Hills of Rome”, as it is west of the Tiber River.
After taking plenty of pictures of the city, I started to
explore the park’s interior. To my
surprise, I found rows and rows of stone busts depicting famous Italians from
throughout history lining the interior walkways of the park. I found the coupling of the busts with the
beautiful views of the city a very potent combination. It seems fitting to me that many of Italy’s
great minds and military leaders are now immortalized in a spot that overlooks the
city they fought so hard to defend. Finally, I crossed to the opposite end of the park, where I was rewarded with this glimpse of the dome of St. Peter’s Basilica through the trees. This view of the Basilica was a very unique angle for me, as I’m used to seeing the dome of St. Peter’s on my walk to school or on my way to other site visits – in the context of the cityscape. It was really neat to be able to see the dome all by itself, framed by the beautiful greenery of Gianicolense.
 |
| St. Peter's through the greenery of Parco Gianicolense |
I woke up early on Sunday morning in order to walk to St. Peter’s square and receive the “Angelus Domini” (Sunday blessing) from Pope Francis. Pictured below is a panorama of the square I took while waiting for the Pope to appear.
|
| Panorama of the "welcoming arms" of Bernini's St. Peter's Square |
I listened carefully from my spot near the center of the square, trying to translate the handful of Italian words I recognized in my mind. The Pope started his message by asking Chi è Gesù per ognuno di noi? (Who is Jesus for each one of us?) The Pope then put his question into the context of the Gospel of St. Luke, and finally transitioned to a reflection on the meaning of the question in the modern world.
The Pope ultimately instructed the crowd to let go of any unwarranted fears and uncertainties, and to find the strength to carry on through Christ. He then blessed the crowd and recognized a few special visiting groups – who subsequently cheered, flew banners in the air, and jumped up and down. The Pope is a ROCK STAR!
 |
| The throngs of people leaving St. Peter's after the Angelus Domini |
The Pope draws a lot of pilgrims to Rome. The pilgrims come to see the Pope, just as people interested in history come to see the historical sites, but no one – or at least not many people – feel the need to actually live in Rome just to be close to the Pope or the history here. The main reason why some people do come from abroad to live in Rome – and I’m specifically talking about non-Catholic ex-pats here – is because of the nice weather.
The Mediterranean climate is what brought a sick John Keats to Rome in 1820. The reason why I mention Keats now is because I spent this afternoon (Monday) in the Keats-Shelley House, a “British Museum Abroad” as I was told by a dapper-looking Prince Charles in the Museum’s introductory video.
And so just like that I transition from an afternoon spent in St. Peter’s square to an afternoon spent in the Roman residence of a second generation Romanticist. QUITE a contrast there.
 |
| The Keats-Shelley Museum borders the Spanish Steps. The second window from the top on the left side is Keats's bedroom |
 |
| Room where John Keats lived, and died, in Rome |
Keats met Shelley briefly in 1816, and the two corresponded by written letter for some time afterwards. When word of Keats’ death reached Shelley, who was living in Pisa at the time with Lord Byron, Shelley was moved to write the famous Elegy, Adonais, for his friend. Stanza 49 of the Elegy perhaps best captures Shelley’s despair:
“…Go thou to Rome, – at
once the Paradise;
The grave, the city,
and the wilderness; …
Where, like an infant’s
smile, over the dead
A light of laughing
flowers along the grass is spread.”
In a tragic twist of fate, Shelley drowned at sea just four months after the death of Keats. Now the despair shifted onto the shoulders of Lord Byron, who would elope to Greece and die one year later of fever. Only the good die young. Byron was 36. Shelley was 29. Keats was 25. Yeesh. That’s all the tragedy this blog post can handle.
So anyways, I have to admit that I was a little apprehensive about being all alone here in Rome this weekend (as my roommates have been in Florence), but I’m glad that I got the opportunity to rest my legs, and still do a little bit of exploring at my own pace. In the spirit of being alone though, I’d like to end this post with an excerpt that takes me back to my first adventure in Parco Gianicolense on Saturday – from John Keats’s O Solitude:
“O SOLITUDE! If I must
with thee dwell,
Let it not be among the
jumbled heap
Of murky buildings;
climb with me the steep, –
Nature’s observatory –
whence the dell,
It’s flowery slopes,
its river’s crystal swell,
May seem a span; let me
thy vigils keep
‘Mongst boughs
pavillion’d, where the deer’s swift leap
Startles the wild bee
from the fox-glove bell.
But though I’ll gladly
trace these scenes with thee,
Yet the sweet converse
of an innocent mind,
Whose words are images
of thoughts refin’d,
Is my soul’s pleasure;
and it sure must be
Almost the highest
bliss of human-kind,
When to thy haunts two
kindred spirits flee.”
Ciao,Brock
--
Read more from Brock at http://brockdemarkrome.blogspot.com/
For more information on the U of A Renaissance in Rome program at http://studyabroad.uark.edu/renrome
