Thursday, 14 May 2015

The Other Spanish Steps

My original intention was to focus on details today. I even mounted the nifty 50mm on the K3 for that purpose. These are wildflowers on Ponte Vittorio Emanuele II.

Interior of Chiesa Nova. That there is Reubens' work.

Front door of Chiessa Nova. St Filipi and his band only inherited this church, so had no say in the exterior, which is completely at odds with the sumptuous interior

The "bar" where I had a beer.

Heading down to Ponte Aurellius (aka Ponte Sisto). This part of town had quite a rough edge. Not that there was ever any hint of danger.

Pontes Aurelius. What a hoot.

The buildings close in across the Tiber

A little square. This place was no bigger than a backyard, and appeared to have random seating just left about. I've seen this pattern a few times, now. There was a coffee shop and delicatessen, and some old guys playing cards on a drum. I am not much of a street photographer, or I'd have approached the men. On the other hand, I'm always afraid people won't appreciate being made curiosities in their own homes.  

The other Spanissh Steps. Over my left shoulder is the church of St Pietro in Montorio.

The dome under St Pietro in Montario, as it looks seconds before closing time.

St Pietro in Montario

The steps back down that I'd already been up

Interior of St Maria in Trastavere

Piazza of St Maria in Trastavere. Not the apartments adjoining the side of the church. I stood against the wall of those apartments wondering where the church was.

Isola Triberina. A 10s exposure, even using a ten stop ND filter. It was a very bright and hazy day. Not good for this kind of shooting.

And from the other side. I've always wanted to see this bridge.

Passing shot of the Pantheon.
Today was going to be a simple one. Wander down to the Piazza Navona to purchase my ticket for the next few days of major attractions, then maybe walk through to the Isola Tiberina … just because. A long coffee and a few church interiors were also planned, so I brought the K3 and tripod rather than the little LX100. I’ve been taking a lot of shots of cityscapes and buildings, so I thought I might concentrate on details today.

Anyway…

On my way to the Piazza Navona, I decided to go one bridge further along before crossing the Tiber at the Ponte Vittorio Emmanuelle II. Rather than stick to the corso, I ducked off down a lane and wandered back and forth before emerging eventually back on the main drag in front of a church. In fact, it was called the Chiessa Nova. I sat in front of it for a bit eating cashews and drinking water before deciding to just go inside.

I’m very glad I did.

This place isn’t even on the tourist map, and it isn’t in Lonely Planet, but it has a ceiling painted by Reubens and an amazing collection of art. It’s the home base of an order called the Congregazione dell Oratorio di San Flipo Neri. Now, I think the guide said this was a secular order, and Filipi was a bit of a humanist. The order has one word in their canon, which is “love”. I’m not sure what all that meant, or if I even heard correctly, but these guys love their art.

Best of all, thought, Chiessi Nova was deserted except for two lonely volunteers who gave me a tour and let me use my tripod. It is very rare to be allowed to use a tripod in places like this. At least, I was able to use my tripod until one of the order came out of nowhere and told me what else I could do with my tripod. Not much of an orator, this bloke; rather direct. I think I got the guides in trouble.

Anyway, from there it was a ramble through some rather dodgy looking bits, and a beer with some olives at a bar. If you can call sitting at a little table with flowers on it being in a bar. But, I thought it was time to get back on track and find the Isola Tiburina…

Oh… but I forgot about the Piazza Navona. In my defence, I thought it was pretty forgettable. Two outrageously over the top fountains and a hundred merchants flogging prints in the baking heat. Well, okay, ninety were flogging prints, while about ten were real artists selling their stuff. That’s it for the Piazza Navona.

Back to the Isola Tiberina, which I don’t actually get to for some time because instead I emerged at the river in front of a very old looking bridge. I actually guessed it was Middle Age vintage, but when I sidled up to it I discovered it was commissioned by none other than Marcus Aurelius. The thought struck me hard that if this was the only bridge in Rome that he built, and that he did so with a major project in mind… there was every chance he had walked the same ground as I was standing on.

Notwithstanding the acute sense that has been with me every moment I’ve been here of the millions of ghostly footprints over which I am stepping all the time, to realize, and to realize quite unexpectedly, that I was at a particular nexus with a particular person… was moving.

I stopped and sketched the bridge, then walked over it. My plan was now to skirt the south bank and cross the Isola Tiberina and head home.

Instead, once I was on the far side, I spotted some steps heading down into a hollow out of which rose a veritable sea of shambolic terracotta roofs. I went down the stairs and was quickly lost in a maze of little streets that were rather run down but chock full of art shops, vegan restaurants and quite a few bars. But it was also a living neighbourhood, one where the ancient buildings loom close overhead, three or four stories tall. Here and there vines grew on lattices between the houses.

To complete the feeling of strange isolation, the traffic noise must have been passing overhead, because it was so quite I could hear a burbling nossini before I saw one. I just turned corner after corner, following splashes of colour or noises. I stopped for coffee in a little square not quite as big as an average back yard but yet had a pizzeria, a delicatessen and five old guys sitting playing cards on a 44gallon drum. I’m not kidding.

Eventually I turned one last corner into an alley that ended in a set of really long, steep steps that disappeared onto some trees. I could now hear traffic coming from above so I thought I must be at the end of this delightful little pocket. I climbed the stairs and was confronted by a busy road. However, I could see the stairs continued on the other side, heading up a hill in some sort of terrace.

I crossed the road at a sprint, and climbed the terrace which turned out to be a sort of open-air Stations of the Cross. The stations were set in little alcoves, and I could see the terrace turned once. At the bend, I was greeted by a sweeping view of the city, except from the opposite direction from the views I had enjoyed before. I was on one of the mysterious green hills I had spotted the other day.

The last steep leg of the terrace ended in an iron gate at through that gate was a church and public building, sitting on top of this hill. To be sure, this was no aerie… there was a carpark and some sort of modern administration building, but again I was astonished by what you can reach just by wandering around this place.

It turns out this was the Spanish Institute, and the church was St Pietro in Montorio. I was just in time to spend fifteen minutes inside before a priest chased me out at closing. That surprised me… until I realised it was five o’clock already. I pulled out my map at last and decided it really was time I found the Isola Tiberina. In fact, I was sure I could just about see it from where I was, so I scanned the terracotta roofs and instead noticed a substantial church right in the middle of the little hollow I had come through. My map told me it was St Maria in Trastevere, and it was on the way to the Isola. Sort of.

So, back down the stairs and for the very first time in this city I became truly lost. I was looking for this church with a big clock tower in a space that could not have been more than a square kilometre. But once I was back down in the hollow, I could not see any landmarks at all. I consulted my tourist map, which has actually been really accurate, and discovered that I must be standing right next to the church. All I could see from street level was the wall of a very old apartment block.

Well, it turns out this was because some accommodation had at some point in some century past been built onto the side of the church. I was leaning against the church as I looked my map trying to figure out where the church was. So I followed the wall and tumbled into the Piazza St Maria, and had another of those moments.

Someone was playing Albinoni or some other baroque tragic and a juggler was entertaining a crowd of kids on the steps of the fountain in the very middle of the square. Adults were sitting around it as well, eating pizza and drinking beer. The place was buzzing with talk and screaming kids. But even the screaming kids just fit.

I entered the church and for the second time in one day had no trouble using a tripod. This time, I wasn’t even chastised. The church seemed very old and basic, a traditional basilica. I haven’t had the chance to look it up, but I suspect it was one of the very early ones, built outside the old walls, perhaps.
I had another beer, drinking it while sitting in the threshold of some ancient building or another, and thought I really should find the Isola Tiberina.
This time I did.

Like apparently everything else in this city is was all of about fifteen minutes’ walk away through densely packed and rather dilapidated housing, before emerging in the rather swish neighbourhood round the Tiber. I spent some time taking shots of this odd little island and then finally headed back north along the Via Anula and then past the Pantheon. I ducked in for a quick peak, but the evening was overcast and there was no burning beam of sunlight bouncing off the walls.

I found a small kitchen that advertised itself as part of the “slow food” movement, and had some really, really simple chicken breast and vegetables for dinner. I have to admit I am feeling a bit over, done with bread and pasta so some meat and salad for under 10EU was a steal.


So that’s it… a quiet day, really. And I found the other Spanish Steps.

4 comments:

  1. I'm loving your writings Robert ... They're bringing Italy to me. Thank you x

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  2. Outstanding photo's. Can I come next time?

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  3. Outstanding photo's. Can I come next time?

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  4. Dear Mark, of coarse you can. I have to admit, I am already torn about trying to get both Rome and Istanbul in the one trip. I am acutely aware that I am missing the wider experience of Italy, even though I've got nowhere near enough time to do all the stuff I'd like to.

    So... next time. You'll have to learn to ride a scooter, though, because that's how I'll be travelling. Ask Charlie to teach you.

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