I saw baby seagulls walking on the roofs of ancient cathedrals. I saw stray cats sleeping on Roman ruins. I saw nuns running towards the Vatican to watch the announcement of the new pontiff.
I saw crowded metros and empty churches.
I saw a Russian woman walking under the watchful eyes of a hundred popes, all painted by old masters. I saw an old homeless man painting with oil on a canvas in Piazza del Popolo (how did he afford those materials?) — so concentrated on his painting that he didn't even ask for money. I saw a Muslim woman with her baby begging for money with screams and cursing those who ignored her.
I saw American tourists making huge lines in front of an Italian restaurant managed by Chinese owners with Indian waiters. I saw a white prostitute exchanging obscene insults with a dark drunk man in the night tram while crows and seagulls flew overhead.
I saw poor Italian cashiers saying they missed Mussolini and rich Italian students saying they missed Lenin. I saw a young woman crying in front of an image of the Holy Virgin in Latin Mass. I saw the sunlight coming through the cupola to illuminate a painting of the Cross.
I saw bureaucrats of a government agency telling me that they couldn't do anything for me and it was time to close for lunch anyway. I saw the golden ceilings of the villa of one of the richest and oldest families in Rome who still privately owns paintings by Raphael, Velázquez and Caravaggio and I saw a street full of beggars, prostitutes and migrants in one of the poorest neighbourhoods.
I saw pomegranate flowers and musk roses. I saw the Colosseum shining under the moonlight and San Peter's basilica hidden by the blinding sun.
All this and much more I saw during my brief sojourn in this dirty, chaotic and wonderful town that is Rome.
But now it is time to leave.
Arrivederci.
Oh, I really loved Rome — it's not the first time I visited it, but the first time I spent a considerable amount of time here, and to live in a place even if just for a couple of months is different than to be a tourist. I wish I could have written more about it, but then again, travel writing seems to have turned into one of those things that no one cares much more about, with TikTok and YouTube and Instagram and all that.
And yet, sometimes written observations can be more interesting that videos simply showing things1, at least to me. Personally, I really enjoyed Elizabeth Vigée Le Brun's travel diaries in Italy (I wrote about it a while ago), as well as some of Stendhal's notes and short stories about Rome.
But of course, most people, even my two or three readers, are more concerned about current affairs.
In one of Hemingway's most famous novels — I'm no big fan of Hemingway, but I think this was the only novel of his I read — one character asks another how he went from rich to poor. He answers: “first, gradually, then all at once”.
The same tends to happen with world events. There are first almost imperceptible movements, and then, suddenly, all hell breaks loose.
Things are changing in the world, even if it seems that they aren't. I am sure we are in the final stages of the present system — some call it liberalism, some call it liberal democracy, some call it late-stage capitalism, some call it globalism, some call it — whatever, it is clearly ending.
But what rough beast is coming in its place, it's hard to know.
War, chaos totalitarianism?
The Apocalypse?
Or just a slightly different political system?
Perhaps a new type of Pax Romana, only without the Romans?
Who knows.
What's interesting is that most people, at any rate most Western people, are completely apathetic. Terrible, wondrous things are happening all around them, but they are completely careless and unaware, just playing some stupid game on their phones.
I suppose they are right in a way — I mean, what is the point of worrying about things we can't control? The difference is that they are simply unaware that anything is happening, while a few others are.
But in the end, is there really a difference?
Perhaps they are right. It is time to change. I'll think things over about what to do with this strange blog that lacks a bit more focus, not to mention readers, and I'll be back soon.
(In the last paragraph, I meant back to writing here, but — hopefully — back to Rome as well. Did I say I really loved spending a longer time in this town, even with all of its troubles?)
Arrivederci, dosdevanya, à bientôt.
For those who prefer moving images, I made a short video with random scenes from an afternoon walk in Rome that you can watch above.