Postcards from Rome
/In Paris 12 days earlier, I had called Mommy, who was in Vintar, my hometown in Ilocos Norte. She had sounded okay, besides the usual complaints about her sleeplessness and worry over family matters. The night before we flew home, I was thoroughly exhausted. I plopped down in bed with my legs raised up on the wall and, with a ten-euro phone card, I called her. When she picked up, the first thing she said was, “Nalaing man ngarud ta immawag ka, balasang ko. Matayak sa metten…”
I got up and said, in Ilocano, “Mommy! What do you mean you’re about to die?”
My mother went on to explain that she had been reading the Medical Encyclopedia and that based on the color of her stools, she thought she was bleeding inside. I argued that she needed to go see her doctor instead of diagnosing herself. My siblings and I had made sure she had all the medical attention she needed. So, even if I knew she had not been feeling well lately, I was utterly surprised to hear her say she thought she was close to death. It didn’t help that Mommy was hard of hearing and it was a challenge to get one sentence through to her and make sure she understood. Before I could get her assurance that she would see the doctor right away, the minutes allowed by my ten euros elapsed and the line was cut.
“Because Rome is excessively rich in history and art, it’s almost impossible to notice the smaller, less popular things strewn about the city.”
It was late at night, and I still needed to pack for our early flight the next day. I resolved to call my mother once I got home in Toronto. When I finally did get home, my son said his grandma was seriously ill and to call the Philippines right away. When I did, my sister Venus picked up the phone. Her voice dejected, she said they were at the hospital and that Mommy was “fifty-fifty.”
“What do you mean, 50-50?” I yelled. “Hand her the phone, let me talk to her!”
“She won’t recognize you; she does not even know who I am.”
I started looking for flights home, hardly getting any sleep. The next day, I reported for work for the sole purpose of asking for another leave to go see my dying mother. Around noon, I got a text from Venus saying Mommy was gone.
I do not know how I survived the long trip from Toronto to Vintar.
Several days later, at my mother’s wake in our home in Vintar, the mailman came with a postcard from Rome, one I had mailed when I was there. I had written to her that I was at Saint Peter’s praying hard for her health and wishing she could be there with me.
How was I to know that she would be gone before that postcard arrived? I had nowhere to go but to deal with two heartaches that year. And for all the wonderful things I saw in Europe and the great time I spent with Karl and Farah, my memories of Rome, Saint Peter’s in particular, became bittersweet.
Rome, 2005. Clockwise, from left: A store-bought postcard similar to what I sent Mommy; me at St. Peter’s dome with St. Peter’s square behind me (Photo by Karl Solis); Karl and me at the Roman Forum (Photo by Farah Solis)
Fast forward to 2022. When we were starting to emerge from our Covid bubbles with more confidence, I did some revenge traveling with my friends, going to Europe twice that year. As a general rule, we visit a new place each time and avoid repeats, but because our main destinations were Malta and Sicily, both quite close to Rome, we decided to throw in six days there on the way home.
In Rome for the second time, we stayed at a boutique hotel on Via Cavour, two blocks from the Grand Hotel Palatino where I had stayed 17 years earlier. Each time we walked by the Palatino, I remembered the night when I heard Mommy’s voice for the last time. The times we were at Saint Peter’s, I recalled the stabbing pain of receiving the Vatican postcard from the mailman at the door as my mother lay in a coffin inside the house. Not once did I think of the lost love that broke my heart all those many years ago, because the heartache had long been healed. However, I became a little girl again, longing for Mommy’s warm hug, wishing mothers would never die.
Saint Peter’s Basilica, 2022. Left: Altar honoring Saint Peter’s tomb at the level of the Vatican Grottoes. The actual tomb is directly beneath it, at the level of the Vatican Necropolis. This altar lies directly beneath the Papal altar on the main floor, which altar is housed by Gian Lorenzo Bernini’s canopy (baldacchino). Michelangelo’s famous dome up above is aligned with all these elements.
Top right: The Chair of Saint Peter that encases an ancient wooden chair, likely of Byzantine origin but traditionally held to have been Saint Peter’s. The gilt bronze enclosure was designed by Bernini.
Bottom right: A little girl inspects Pius XI’s coat of arms on the basilica’s marble floor.
(Photos by Odette Foronda)
On my first visit to Rome in 2005, I went down to the Vatican Grottoes – one level below the main floor – to the altar labeled Sepulcrum Sancti Petri Apostoli (Tomb of Saint Peter) as shown in the above photo, thinking, the way I believe most pilgrims do, that the Apostle’s tomb was right there in the center of the altar.
Wrong. I learned many years later that the actual tomb is deep beneath the Vatican Grottoes, a multi-level complex called the Vatican Necropolis, and getting access is not as easy as buying a museum ticket online. Months before heading out to Rome in 2022, I applied for tickets by emailing the Vatican Scavi Office, keeping my fingers tightly crossed. I was fortunate to have been granted those precious tickets, which bore a specific date and time, plus guidelines on Covid safety, what to wear, what to bring, when to arrive, etc. The guided tour was to be 90 minutes.
We worked our Rome itinerary with this one item as a non-negotiable. What an astonishing 90 minutes it was! But just like many hard-to-access attractions, photography was not allowed in the underground maze of alleyways lined with graves of Romans and early Christians. We could not come close to the special spot, however, and were permitted to view it from about four meters away. The cordoned-off section is where Saint Peter’s tomb is located, and it has a wall filled with Latin graffiti by the faithful who visited the tomb in the third and fourth centuries.
After three weeks on the road, my wanderlust was partially sated. I came home tired but content, with tons of photos, new learning, wonderful memories, plus the Covid virus in my system, although I was thankfully asymptomatic. While I quarantined at home, I came up with quite a few images that I could send to Mommy as postcards. But maybe she won’t need them, because I feel that she finally made it to Rome with me this time around.
Rome by Night
I wanted to visit the iconic sights once more and take in the magnificent views without having to jostle my way through thick crowds. The fix to that was to book several tours with a professional photographer who would take me to the best spots to shoot these iconic sights, complete with historical bits and photography coaching. I was out walking the streets of Rome at odd hours – mostly during the night – with funny and warm and talented Giulio d’Ercole, who runs Rome Photo Fun Tours, and who not only taught me quite a few shooting tricks but became a friend in the process. I spent about 14 hours on his tours, mostly when my friends were in bed, making Alberta, the hotel owner, wonder if I were out dancing most nights.
When the crowds have thinned, i.e., from 11 o’clock or so Rome, lit up like old times in the warm yellow color of lamplights, transforms into pure magic.
A view of St. Peter’s from Ponte Umberto (Photo by Odette Foronda)
Castel Sant’Angelo viewed from Ponte Sant’Angelo (Photo by Odette Foronda)
The Pantheon (Photo by Odette Foronda)
The Colosseum (Photo by Odette Foronda)
A section of the Roman Forum (Photo by Odette Foronda)
Teatro di Marcello (Photo by Odette Foronda)
Fountain of Neptune at Piazza Navona (Photo by Odette Foronda)
Altare della Patria (Photo by Odette Foronda)
Michelangelo or Bernini?
No need to take sides, for when you walk the streets of Rome, it’s hard to run out of the eye candy left by these two great artists. Michelangelo has Florence, for sure, where his beautiful David reigns supreme. And in Rome, there’s St. Peter’s Dome, the Sistine Chapel ceiling, his haunting Pietà inside Saint Peter’s, and his Moses at Saint Peter in Chains.
However, if you visit Rome today, Bernini’s works, all stunning, outnumber Michelangelo’s. Born over a century apart, they both became the pope’s artist of choice. But because the beautification of Rome was more frantic during Bernini’s time, he had more commissions. He studied Michelangelo’s work, seeking to do better. In the end, all is fine, for if you say Renaissance sculpture, I say Michelangelo; and if you say Baroque, I say Bernini.
Some of the most stunning works in Rome. Clockwise, from top left: Bernini’s bronze baldacchino underneath Michelangelo’s dome at St. Peter’s; Michelangelo’s Pietà at St. Peter’s; Michelangelo’s Moses at the church of Saint Peter in Chains; Bernini’s Apollo and Daphne at Galleria Borghese; The Goat Amalthea with the Infant Jupiter and a Faun, which Bernini did when he was eleven, at Galleria Borghese; Bernini’s Four Rivers Fountain at Piazza Navona; Bernini’s sculptures adorning the tomb of Alexander VII at St. Peter’s; Bernini’s Rape of Proserpina at Galleria Borghese. At the center is Bernini’s David, also at the Galleria Borghese. (Photos by Odette Foronda)
Via Appia Antica
In 73 BC, the slave Spartacus, who had been born a free man but was forced to fight as a gladiator, escaped his gladiator training school and fled to Mount Vesuvius, where he organized an army of runaway slaves. From there, they ravaged the Campania countryside as they killed slave masters. They had the upper hand for about three years. Later, however, the slaves’ collective rage was no match to the power of the Roman legions. Spartacus died in battle while 6,000 of his men were captured and crucified on crosses that lined the Via Appia all the way to Rome.
The Via Appia, or Appian Way, is the first and most famous of ancient Roman roads. Begun in 312 BC by a magistrate named Appius Claudius Caecus, at its longest it ran from Brindisi on the heel of Italy’s boot all the way to Rome. Today, a section of the original road survives just outside the city. It’s lined with ancient tombs and some churches that mark the location of the catacombs where early Christians and some Romans were buried. It is said that the Apostle Peter, fleeing persecution in Rome, met the Risen Jesus on this road, and he said, “Domine, quo vadis?” Lord, where are you going? When Jesus said He was on His way to be crucified again, Peter turned back to Rome where he was later hung on a cross upside down.
“When the crowds have thinned, i.e., from 11 o’clock or so Rome, lit up like old times in the warm yellow color of lamplights, transforms into pure magic.”
It's possible to visit some catacombs along the Via Appia. We chose those of San Sebastiano beneath the Basilica of Saint Sebastian Outside the Walls. Similar in layout and appearance to the Vatican Necropolis, it holds pagan as well as Christian graves, the most notable being Saint Sebastian’s. Photography was forbidden.
A nice bonus to a visit to Via Appia Antica is the nearby Parco degli Acquedotti, or Aqueduct Park, where some ancient aqueducts still stand.
Via Appia Antica and Aqueduct Park. Clockwise, from top left: A portion of Aqueduct Park; a segment of Via Appia Antica; sculpture of Saint Stephen (by Giorgetti) marking the spot above his tomb at the Basilica of St. Sebastian Outside the Walls; the tomb of Cecilia Metella, the largest surviving pagan tomb on the Appian Way; the footprints of Jesus at the Church of Domine Quo Vadis; a gravestone along the Via Appia. (Photos by Odette Foronda)
Domus Aurea
Want to go back underground? No more tombs on this one, promise. And yes, photography is allowed.
The Domus Aurea or Golden House was the opulent residence that Nero built after the great fire of 64 AD and before his death in 69 AD. It was part of a vast complex that was probably never completed, with colorful pavilions decked in gold and precious stones, a colosseum, gardens, and a lake. His successors, embarrassed at the decadence, tried to obliterate it by stripping the structures and building over them.
For one, Vespasian built the Colosseum over a portion that included the lake. Other emperors erected baths and temples. Ruins of the Domus Aurea were accidentally discovered in 1500 when a Roman fell through a cleft on the hillside and recounted how he found himself in a cave with painted figures. This led Renaissance artists – among them Raphael and Michelangelo – to have themselves lowered there with rope to study the ancient decorations.
The Domus Aurea has been undergoing restoration for decades, with on-and-off periods of welcoming tourists. We were in luck in 2022, because it was open for guided tours that were enhanced by virtual-reality technology, enabling the visitor to visualize how the monument looked in its full grandeur.
The Domus Aurea’s opulent interior and colored frescoes. Bottom right photo was taken on the grounds above the Domus Aurea. (Photos by Odette Foronda)
Ostia Antica
Similar to Pompeii in state of preservation but much closer to Rome is Ostia Antica. A mere 25 kilometers from Rome, Ostia Antica used to be a port at the mouth of the Tiber and was perhaps Rome’s first settlement. It was a naval base during the Punic Wars and a busy commercial port at the height of Rome’s glory. When Rome fell, the city declined and was gradually abandoned. It was later used as quarry for marble. Through the centuries, silting and shifting sands buried the city, beautifully preserving it in mud. The coastline has changed so that Ostia Antica is now four kilometers inland. With more than half of the city still buried, excavations continue, with the accessible part covering 15 hectares,
Views of Ostia Antica (Photo by Odette Foronda)
Because Rome is excessively rich in history and art, it’s almost impossible to notice the smaller, less popular things strewn about the city. For example, Monte Testaccio. Less than three kilometers from the historical center, is a mound made of neatly-piled-up broken pottery pieces. What is now Rome’s working-class district used to be a dumping ground for broken or unusable amphorae mostly used for olive oil, but it was no ordinary dump. The smart Romans broke the amphorae and systematically piled up the pieces, adding layers of lime in between the shards in order to stabilize the mound. We can see today that it remains stable. Archaeologists have since gathered precious historical bits from the engravings on the shards.
Easy-to-miss things. Clockwise, from top left: The Pyramid of Caius Cestius by the Porta San Paolo; a terrace of pottery shards on Monte Testaccio; Fountain of Knowledge; an old lady’s earring with the twins Romulus and Remus suckling on a wolf, at Campo de’ Fiori; stumbling stones that mark the spots where Jewish residents were rounded up by Nazis and sent to Auschwitz, at the Jewish Ghetto; an ammonite fossil on a marble counter at the Church of Sant’Ignazio.
The middle photo is a selfie snapped by Giulio d’Ercole with me, in front of the Altare della Patria. He showed me all the items on this spread, with the exception of the pyramid and Monte Testaccio. Grazie mille, Giulio!
(Middle photo by Giulio d’Ercole; the rest by Odette Foronda)
Cheers to you in heaven, Mommy dearest!
Odette Foronda is a mother of four, grandma of two pretty teenage girls and cute twin three-year-old boys, based in Toronto. Now retired from years of working in the numbers field, she’ll travel as far as her Ilocano purse will allow. She has published 11 books of her travel photos and stories (https://www.blurb.com/user/odettef).
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