I'm back from England now, and the next few posts will cover my peregrinations. Michael, meanwhile, spent the week getting ready for our ski trip (leaving tomorrow at the crack of dawn!) and making sure the kids didn't party too much.
Getting to Fiumicino is usually pretty straightforward, particularly if you're carrying limited baggage. You hop on a train at Ponterio, change in Terni, then change again either at Tiburtina or Termini. No problem, particularly if you allow plenty of time.
This time, however, I thought I'd try Sulga, the bus that goes directly from Todi to Fiumicino -- how convenient is that? Turns out, well... I'll let you be the judge.
Let me preface the story by saying that the bus schedules here are remarkably difficult to read. They have "giorni festivi", "giorni feriali" (bear in mind that "ferie" means "vacation" or "holiday"), and often another category which I have forgotten. So. Is Sunday a "feast day" or a "giorno feriale" (not being abundantly clear on what exactly that means)?
My best guess was that the bus would leave at 9:40 from "Pian di Porto" (a suburb of Todi just beyond Ponterio, well beyond walking distance, but a perfect Leonardo distance). So, Leo happily picked me up (but it was early morning for him -- his hair was unbrushed!), and off we went. Mysteriously, there wasn't a soul in the parking lot. We got to talking, Leo checked out the schedule with me. Whoops! We were supposed to be using the "giorni festivi" column, which means that I was 30 minutes late for a 9:10 bus. By the way, "giorni feriali" means workdays, for no apparent reason.
No problem! My backup plan was the 9:58 from Ponterio to Terni. Leo happily dropped me off at the station, dusted off his hands with a job well done, and I went to stand on the platform (after having paid him, of course!). Hmm. The signboard had no 9:58. The soonest train to Terni was at 12:07. While that would still get me to Fiumicino on time, we're starting to assume a lot about train connections, etc. Plus, it was annoying not to have the train that I was expecting.
Ring, ring! "Pronto?" says Leonardo. "Um, you're going to kill me [roughly translated], but I messed up somehow, and there's no 9:58. Can you come get me & take me to Terni?" "Nessuno problema." Great. Fantastic. Back he comes. Upon consulting the schedule in the parking lot, he finally realizes that the schedule book I'm using was no longer valid as of the 10th of January or something. Gah!
We arrive in Terni about 25 minutes later, and we see a brief repetition of the Ponterio dance: I pay him, he unloads my suitcases, we kiss, he hops back in, and I wander over to buy my ticket. Since we're in a larger station, there's actually a ticket counter open (Ponterio's regional train office is closed on Sunday and you buy your tickets on the train). Glancing at the board shows that the soonest trains to Rome are delayed by well over an hour. Strange.
When I arrive at the front of the line, I mention Fiumicino to the clerk. His face immediately assumes the "I'm not going to be helpful" expression, and he says that everything that direction is delayed by well over an hour, the line is closed, and he has no further information. I try to enquire as to the nature of the line closure, but wasn't able to understand.
Ring, ring! "Pronto?" says Leonardo. This is starting to feel a bit like a farce. "Un, Leo? I give up. Can you take me to Fiumicino?"
Love,
Alexandra
p.s. While I was waiting for Leo to arrive, I got the updated train schedule at the regional kiosk. It's good until June.
p.p.s. Turns out the line was closed for a very sad reason: someone had ventured onto the track and been killed, so it was closed for the cleanup and investigation
Sunday, January 27, 2013
Saturday, January 26, 2013
Our Vacationmobile
This morning I took the taxi down to the Fiat dealership in Ponterio to pick up the van Alexandra reserved for our vacation next week. The Fiat 500 was not going to transport the seven of us to Switzerland.
But this will!
In America we had a minivan. This is a maxivan! It seats 9, and I don't mean 2 adults and 7 cramped children. I mean 9 rugby players!
And their luggage:
It feels like you are driving a truck. The effect is accentuated by how far forward the driver's seat is, how high you sit relative to the cars, and the fact that it is a 6-speed, manual only.
I got to start by backing this monster 60 feet out past several obstacles. it actually drives easily enough. The gears are very forgiving. I think they are Extremely Low, Very Low, Low, Medium Low, Passing, and I-Can-Almost-Keep-Up-On-The-Autostrada.
And yes, the snow chains are included. For those of you who haven't heard, you will be fined for driving in this region in winter without either snow tires or available chains, even on a clear, sunny day. Given how quickly the weather changes that isn't actually that bad a law.
Michael
But this will!
In America we had a minivan. This is a maxivan! It seats 9, and I don't mean 2 adults and 7 cramped children. I mean 9 rugby players!
And their luggage:
It feels like you are driving a truck. The effect is accentuated by how far forward the driver's seat is, how high you sit relative to the cars, and the fact that it is a 6-speed, manual only.
I got to start by backing this monster 60 feet out past several obstacles. it actually drives easily enough. The gears are very forgiving. I think they are Extremely Low, Very Low, Low, Medium Low, Passing, and I-Can-Almost-Keep-Up-On-The-Autostrada.
And yes, the snow chains are included. For those of you who haven't heard, you will be fined for driving in this region in winter without either snow tires or available chains, even on a clear, sunny day. Given how quickly the weather changes that isn't actually that bad a law.
Michael
Titignano
Last Saturday I returned from a business trip to the United States. My return trip was uneventful except that I decided to try a cheaper and more Earth-friendly way to get from Fiumicino to Todi. Instead of using a car service, I would use a regional bus service called Sulga.
There were only two problems. I didn't know from exactly where the bus departed, and the bus departure times were something like 7:15 (before my plane arrived) and 2:00 (by which time I could be back in Todi taking a nap). There was also a bus that departed at a reasonable time--9:00--but it wasn't clear that it actually stopped in Todi.
"Information" at the airport pointed me outside to a bus departure area. Only one problem: no ticket office, no kiosk, and no signs for Sulga. Back in to inquire at a shuttle service counter. They looked it up online and decided it didn't depart from there, only from a Rome transit station called Tiburtina. I knew about an extended stop the bus made there, so I decided to pick it up at that point.
The shuttle service was more than willing to sell me their services. Unwilling to pay their price to Tiburtina, I opted for the trip to Termini, where I knew there was a convenient Metro link to Tiburtina. The shuttle turned out to be a pleasant unguided tour of Rome, passing all the ancient landmarks on its way to Termini. Another passenger, a grad student from MIT who was on his first trip to Italy and hadn't made a single plan or learned a single word in Italian, quizzed me on the words he needed to know and where he might want to go.
One Metro ride later I was at Tiburtina. Regional buses? "Fuori" ("Outside", in the sense of "You have to exit the station"). Ten minutes of signless wandering later, I found the regional bus station across the street, on the other side of an underpass and beyond some construction. No problem buying a Sulga ticket to Todi for the 10:30 departure.
Checking with the driver, however, revealed that this particular bus does not stop in Todi. It only travels the autostrada past Todi. Much to my relief he would, however, make an unscheduled stop at a service station at the exit for a town near Todi. Leonardo met me there, and that is how I managed to take a shuttle, a subway, a bus, and a taxi to get home. And yes, it was still cheaper than the car service, by half.
Why do I tell you all that? Because clearly I would have worked up an appetite with all that travel! Our wonderful, delightful, thoughtful children had given us a dinner out for Christmas, and we had decided that the evening between my return and Alexandra's departure to London was the time to use it.
Alexandra knew about a slightly unusual restaurant nearby. This restaurant is at an old monastery called Titignano. You must make a reservation at this restaurant, and you must be on time for your seating.
So after an afternoon of the usual Hook chaos (this time involving a tutor and three extra children), off we went with no time to spare. Picture the scene: it has been snowing, but the roads are clear and the temperature above freezing. The place is up in the hills and down a potholed gravel road. We don't know exactly where and don't have a GPS, but we do have directions. It is after dark and foggy. And we are driving a tiny 1968 Fiat 500.
Alexandra, the directions, and the Fiat all performed wonderfully and we arrived only a few minutes late, meaning perfectly on time for Italy.
The meal! The place is a fixed-price, fixed-menu place. Wine and water were already on the table, and appetizers came out almost immediately after we arrived. We had been warned that the food would keep coming, so we knew to pace ourselves. The food did keep coming, and all of it was wonderful. It was a very relaxing experience to sit and talk over an unhurried meal. The service was not slow--we generally had the next course just as we finished the previous one--but it was after 11:00 when we finally pushed ourselves away from the table and made our way home.
There was one little follow-on incident that touches on life in small towns in Italy. Somehow Alexandra managed to leave her license and libretto (essentially proof of automobile ownership that you are required to have with you in the car at all times) at the restaurant. The restaurant contacted her to figure out how to return them. Alexandra asked if they could mail them to Todi since she was out of the country and would need them immediately upon returning. Yes, but they had a better way. The director's daughter works in a home goods store in Todi. They would send them with her and I could pick them up there. And so it happened.
Michael
There were only two problems. I didn't know from exactly where the bus departed, and the bus departure times were something like 7:15 (before my plane arrived) and 2:00 (by which time I could be back in Todi taking a nap). There was also a bus that departed at a reasonable time--9:00--but it wasn't clear that it actually stopped in Todi.
"Information" at the airport pointed me outside to a bus departure area. Only one problem: no ticket office, no kiosk, and no signs for Sulga. Back in to inquire at a shuttle service counter. They looked it up online and decided it didn't depart from there, only from a Rome transit station called Tiburtina. I knew about an extended stop the bus made there, so I decided to pick it up at that point.
The shuttle service was more than willing to sell me their services. Unwilling to pay their price to Tiburtina, I opted for the trip to Termini, where I knew there was a convenient Metro link to Tiburtina. The shuttle turned out to be a pleasant unguided tour of Rome, passing all the ancient landmarks on its way to Termini. Another passenger, a grad student from MIT who was on his first trip to Italy and hadn't made a single plan or learned a single word in Italian, quizzed me on the words he needed to know and where he might want to go.
One Metro ride later I was at Tiburtina. Regional buses? "Fuori" ("Outside", in the sense of "You have to exit the station"). Ten minutes of signless wandering later, I found the regional bus station across the street, on the other side of an underpass and beyond some construction. No problem buying a Sulga ticket to Todi for the 10:30 departure.
Checking with the driver, however, revealed that this particular bus does not stop in Todi. It only travels the autostrada past Todi. Much to my relief he would, however, make an unscheduled stop at a service station at the exit for a town near Todi. Leonardo met me there, and that is how I managed to take a shuttle, a subway, a bus, and a taxi to get home. And yes, it was still cheaper than the car service, by half.
Why do I tell you all that? Because clearly I would have worked up an appetite with all that travel! Our wonderful, delightful, thoughtful children had given us a dinner out for Christmas, and we had decided that the evening between my return and Alexandra's departure to London was the time to use it.
Alexandra knew about a slightly unusual restaurant nearby. This restaurant is at an old monastery called Titignano. You must make a reservation at this restaurant, and you must be on time for your seating.
So after an afternoon of the usual Hook chaos (this time involving a tutor and three extra children), off we went with no time to spare. Picture the scene: it has been snowing, but the roads are clear and the temperature above freezing. The place is up in the hills and down a potholed gravel road. We don't know exactly where and don't have a GPS, but we do have directions. It is after dark and foggy. And we are driving a tiny 1968 Fiat 500.
Alexandra, the directions, and the Fiat all performed wonderfully and we arrived only a few minutes late, meaning perfectly on time for Italy.
The meal! The place is a fixed-price, fixed-menu place. Wine and water were already on the table, and appetizers came out almost immediately after we arrived. We had been warned that the food would keep coming, so we knew to pace ourselves. The food did keep coming, and all of it was wonderful. It was a very relaxing experience to sit and talk over an unhurried meal. The service was not slow--we generally had the next course just as we finished the previous one--but it was after 11:00 when we finally pushed ourselves away from the table and made our way home.
There was one little follow-on incident that touches on life in small towns in Italy. Somehow Alexandra managed to leave her license and libretto (essentially proof of automobile ownership that you are required to have with you in the car at all times) at the restaurant. The restaurant contacted her to figure out how to return them. Alexandra asked if they could mail them to Todi since she was out of the country and would need them immediately upon returning. Yes, but they had a better way. The director's daughter works in a home goods store in Todi. They would send them with her and I could pick them up there. And so it happened.
Michael
Thursday, January 17, 2013
Saint Anthony's Fire at the Butchers'
Today my curiosity got the better of me, and I finally asked Andrea and Paola what in the world their building had been before. It's this lovely arcaded space with a portion of an obviously very old fresco. Andrea told me that most recently it had been a cooperative/insurance office for a guild, essentially -- that is, around 1862 or so.
They had also found some engraved stones at some point during renovations that indicated that in the 1300s it had been a hospital associated with the next-door church (Sant'Antonio) as a treatment center for Saint Anthony's Fire. Consumed by curiosity rather than said fire, I did some research. There are three possible ailments that are referred to by this name. The first is shingles. The second is erisipelas. However, the one that I suspect they were treating is ergotism. This one is pretty interesting -- caused by an alkaloid produced by a particular fungus that grows on various grains in the proper conditions. Apparently there were a few plagues (? for want of a better word) of ergotism during medieval times. If you check out the link, there are some fairly dramatic paintings of what we're talking about.
I'm not in a hurry to eat moldy rye now. Maybe I'll get Andrea to give me some sausages instead...
Alexandra
They had also found some engraved stones at some point during renovations that indicated that in the 1300s it had been a hospital associated with the next-door church (Sant'Antonio) as a treatment center for Saint Anthony's Fire. Consumed by curiosity rather than said fire, I did some research. There are three possible ailments that are referred to by this name. The first is shingles. The second is erisipelas. However, the one that I suspect they were treating is ergotism. This one is pretty interesting -- caused by an alkaloid produced by a particular fungus that grows on various grains in the proper conditions. Apparently there were a few plagues (? for want of a better word) of ergotism during medieval times. If you check out the link, there are some fairly dramatic paintings of what we're talking about.I'm not in a hurry to eat moldy rye now. Maybe I'll get Andrea to give me some sausages instead...
Alexandra
SNOW!!!!!
It's been going between snowing and raining for the past few days, but today was the first time it actually started to stick. There's some debate about whether there is going to be school tomorrow or not. Scouts is already canceled (even though there is only about an inch of snow). It's still exciting though! It was snowing really hard and the flakes were really big. The church looks very pretty with the snow on the grass and steps.
Love,
Ashley
Love,
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
Put away the scales; bigne fritti are here!
As I went for my cappuccino today, I saw the fateful sign on the door: "Bigne Fritti." For those who followed our last adventures, you know what I mean. For those who didn't, click here to know all.
Excuse me while I go into a sugar coma and a gustatory trance...
Love,
Alexandra
Excuse me while I go into a sugar coma and a gustatory trance...
Love,
Alexandra
Friday, January 11, 2013
I scavi
Last week, Michael & I were able to visit the underground areas of Saint Peter's...where they have excavated the old cemetery in the attempts to find Saint Peter's bones. And just wait until you hear what we saw! Unfortunately, we have no pictures, since they were prohibited during the tour.
The guide prefaced her tour by telling us about why Saint Peter's was built at that location; I'll try to repeat her explanation as best I can. The site was used for many centuries as a necropolis (the word "cemetery" has only been used in Christian times; it has a similar connotation to "dormitory" -- as a resting place, with the implication of a resurrection or future life; from Websters.com:
Origin:
1375–1425; late Middle English < Late Latin coemētērium < Greekkoimētḗrion a sleeping place, equivalent to koimē- (variant stem ofkoimân to put to sleep) + -tērion suffix of locality
), which literally means "city of the dead." The necropolis was much like a city, having small streets (paths, really) lined with crypts -- which resemble very small houses. Inside the crypts were frescoes, urns holding bones or ashes, sarcophagi, holes for providing food or drink to the dead or spirits, and steps up to the (flat) roofs so the living could enjoy a meal in the company of their dead ancestors.
Next to the necropolis could be found Nero's circus -- a place for horseracing and executions, in which was located the obelisk which today stands in the center of St. Peter's piazza.
And now we come to St. Peter's death. We don't have anything biblical about the death (not a big surprise given the time span covered in the Bible), but tradition (supported by contemporary writings to some degree) has it that he was martyred in Nero's circus: crucified upside down, in the year A.D. 64.
His friends requested his body for burial, and (in accordance with Jewish law) buried him simply, wrapped only in a linen cloth, in the cemetery next to the circus. Given what is known of crucifixions and the care of bodies at the time, it is very possible that his body was hewn from the crucifix, possibly leaving his feet in place. Sounds gory, but it's important later in this narrative.
The location of Peter's grave was maintained by oral tradition. In A.D. 161, some of the church members decided that the spot should be marked a bit better than by simply pointing it out to others. So a small monument was built (about 4 feet high or so). It was rather plain, with two (I think) columns and an unadorned pediment. There were no inscriptions for fear of desecration.
In about 316 or so, Constantine decided the time had come to build a church on Peter. Sort of tickles a ghoulish funny bone, but you get my point. Can you imagine? Building a church on sloping, poorly drained land that was covered, moreover, by a necropolis? If you think that the Roman citizens took this lying down, you have another think coming. After all, the crypts of their ancestors (which were to be revered, remember), would be filled in (best case) or completely razed (those on the upper level of the site). People were not happy and (in a time when land was readily available in the center of Rome) major restitutions had to be paid.
Eventually, however, Constantine prevailed, and the first basilica of St. Peter's was built, with the altar positioned above what was believed to be St. Peter's tomb (including the monument). Big problem, though: tourists in that day were no better from tourists in our day. They delighted in defacing ("Augustus was here!" and "RK + IL") not to mention chipping out souvenirs (can't you see the Roman moms tsk-tsking about a chunk of granite in their kids' rooms and just tossing it out because they didn't know where it came from?). Constantine's solution? Encase that monument. Taking plain marble (once again not inscribed), he built a simple box around the monument. At this point, the grave is starting to resemble those nesting Russian dolls. Or maybe the house that Jack built?
Being outside the city's walls, and known to house reliquaries and other items used in worship that were made of precious metals and gems, the basilica was extremely vulnerable to theft. It was raided several times, and it was decided to build a defensive wall around the basilica.
In the 15th century, the basilica was starting to tilt. Leaning tower of Peter, anyone? After much discussion, Pope Julius II decided that repair would not be possible and the (highly unpopular) decision to raze the building was taken. In the process, tombs were destroyed (previous popes, important nobles, etc.) and people were vexed. However, progress will have sway, and here we are today with the St. Peter's basilica ("new and improved!") that we know & love. Bramante designed the main part of the church (started in 1506); the work was later taken over and improved by Michelangelo practically at gunpoint by the pope -- he modified the design and structural methods, and his section is still level today. As usually happens, the project took longer than planned and was over budget. Under duress (notice a pattern here?), Maderno designed the facade, which only 400 years later is 7" out of plumb. In fact, the original design for towers on either side had to be ditched because of the instability of the local soil. As a matter of fact, the excavations will not extend any further towards the front of the basilica for fear of instability; the current fill must remain undisturbed (but I'm getting ahead of myself here).
When the newly sited (but old, from the original basilica) altar was located, the actual site of St. Peter's body had to be taken on faith; it had been obscured somewhat by the intervening 1300 years (I hope no one's surprised at that...I can't keep track of most things for 2 days). Many elements from the original basilica were kept, including the large porphyry circle on which Charlemagne was crowned in the year 800.
In 1938, Pope Pius XI thought it would be nice to locate Peter's grave finally. However, it was to be done in secrecy, partly for fear of vandals and partly because it seemed like it would be more fun to say "Aha!" if they found it and not say anything if they didn't. Maybe like hunting for heffalumps? It certainly started with their digging a big pit. But not from above! It's rather difficult to conduct a discreet archaeological investigation if you start by removing the altar in St. Peter's basilica. Instead, they had to go in from the side (and actually from below the level they thought they needed), making the excavations that much more complicated.
If you noticed the timing, you have to figure that World War II interrupted the works somewhat. However, the archaeologists worked off and on, in the course of which they discovered some incredibly detailed (pagan) sarcophagi, intact crypts, and so on. One of the treasures was the earliest known Christian crypt. While disguised to include pagan symbols, the mosaics clearly show Jesus as the fisher of men, the grapevine ("I am the vine; you are the branches"), and other Christian references.
As we wound our way through the necropolis, we could appreciate how much work went into the excavations. At some point (towards the altar area of the basilica above), we had to deviate from the direct route, because the road of the necropolis converged (heightwise) with the crypts above, and there was no access. We wound our way around, and were then shown a hole that was identified during the excavations. It had originally held a simple burial (there was no room for a sarcophagus, coffin, or anything other than a body), and was in the right location. There aren't a whole lot of reasons to disinter people in this sort of place, so of course the speculation is that this was St. Peter's original burial location. Time to dig upwards!
Not wanting to disturb these finds, though, the archaeologists moved backwards before going up and back around. Do you know what they found? A marble box! And looking in one location slightly below the dirt level of the box, we could see little columns. From a small monument. If this sounds familiar, you've been paying attention! Feeling rather like sleuths, we followed our guide around the marble box, and found a plaster ... wall? Filler? It didn't look like much of anything, but it was definitely not part of the original marble box. It had been covered with graffiti, and it would have asked too much for the archaeologists not to dig in here, don't you think?
Whether or not you would have been able to exercise restraint, they were not. Behind this plasterwork, they found a wooden box. And in the box were some (168, to be precise) bone fragments, wrapped in purple and gold cloth. Drumroll please! This is highly significant because purple and gold cloth during the Roman period was only used either for royalty or by special permission of the emperor. So these bones were important. There's no record of any emperor's burial anywhere near this location after Constantine (when the box was built).
Of course, the bones were sent of post-haste in utmost secrecy to the expert of the day. He was able to determine that the bones had the following characteristics:
The guide prefaced her tour by telling us about why Saint Peter's was built at that location; I'll try to repeat her explanation as best I can. The site was used for many centuries as a necropolis (the word "cemetery" has only been used in Christian times; it has a similar connotation to "dormitory" -- as a resting place, with the implication of a resurrection or future life; from Websters.com:
Origin:
1375–1425; late Middle English < Late Latin coemētērium < Greekkoimētḗrion a sleeping place, equivalent to koimē- (variant stem ofkoimân to put to sleep) + -tērion suffix of locality
), which literally means "city of the dead." The necropolis was much like a city, having small streets (paths, really) lined with crypts -- which resemble very small houses. Inside the crypts were frescoes, urns holding bones or ashes, sarcophagi, holes for providing food or drink to the dead or spirits, and steps up to the (flat) roofs so the living could enjoy a meal in the company of their dead ancestors.
Next to the necropolis could be found Nero's circus -- a place for horseracing and executions, in which was located the obelisk which today stands in the center of St. Peter's piazza.
And now we come to St. Peter's death. We don't have anything biblical about the death (not a big surprise given the time span covered in the Bible), but tradition (supported by contemporary writings to some degree) has it that he was martyred in Nero's circus: crucified upside down, in the year A.D. 64.
His friends requested his body for burial, and (in accordance with Jewish law) buried him simply, wrapped only in a linen cloth, in the cemetery next to the circus. Given what is known of crucifixions and the care of bodies at the time, it is very possible that his body was hewn from the crucifix, possibly leaving his feet in place. Sounds gory, but it's important later in this narrative.
The location of Peter's grave was maintained by oral tradition. In A.D. 161, some of the church members decided that the spot should be marked a bit better than by simply pointing it out to others. So a small monument was built (about 4 feet high or so). It was rather plain, with two (I think) columns and an unadorned pediment. There were no inscriptions for fear of desecration.
In about 316 or so, Constantine decided the time had come to build a church on Peter. Sort of tickles a ghoulish funny bone, but you get my point. Can you imagine? Building a church on sloping, poorly drained land that was covered, moreover, by a necropolis? If you think that the Roman citizens took this lying down, you have another think coming. After all, the crypts of their ancestors (which were to be revered, remember), would be filled in (best case) or completely razed (those on the upper level of the site). People were not happy and (in a time when land was readily available in the center of Rome) major restitutions had to be paid.
Eventually, however, Constantine prevailed, and the first basilica of St. Peter's was built, with the altar positioned above what was believed to be St. Peter's tomb (including the monument). Big problem, though: tourists in that day were no better from tourists in our day. They delighted in defacing ("Augustus was here!" and "RK + IL") not to mention chipping out souvenirs (can't you see the Roman moms tsk-tsking about a chunk of granite in their kids' rooms and just tossing it out because they didn't know where it came from?). Constantine's solution? Encase that monument. Taking plain marble (once again not inscribed), he built a simple box around the monument. At this point, the grave is starting to resemble those nesting Russian dolls. Or maybe the house that Jack built?
Being outside the city's walls, and known to house reliquaries and other items used in worship that were made of precious metals and gems, the basilica was extremely vulnerable to theft. It was raided several times, and it was decided to build a defensive wall around the basilica.
In the 15th century, the basilica was starting to tilt. Leaning tower of Peter, anyone? After much discussion, Pope Julius II decided that repair would not be possible and the (highly unpopular) decision to raze the building was taken. In the process, tombs were destroyed (previous popes, important nobles, etc.) and people were vexed. However, progress will have sway, and here we are today with the St. Peter's basilica ("new and improved!") that we know & love. Bramante designed the main part of the church (started in 1506); the work was later taken over and improved by Michelangelo practically at gunpoint by the pope -- he modified the design and structural methods, and his section is still level today. As usually happens, the project took longer than planned and was over budget. Under duress (notice a pattern here?), Maderno designed the facade, which only 400 years later is 7" out of plumb. In fact, the original design for towers on either side had to be ditched because of the instability of the local soil. As a matter of fact, the excavations will not extend any further towards the front of the basilica for fear of instability; the current fill must remain undisturbed (but I'm getting ahead of myself here).
When the newly sited (but old, from the original basilica) altar was located, the actual site of St. Peter's body had to be taken on faith; it had been obscured somewhat by the intervening 1300 years (I hope no one's surprised at that...I can't keep track of most things for 2 days). Many elements from the original basilica were kept, including the large porphyry circle on which Charlemagne was crowned in the year 800.
In 1938, Pope Pius XI thought it would be nice to locate Peter's grave finally. However, it was to be done in secrecy, partly for fear of vandals and partly because it seemed like it would be more fun to say "Aha!" if they found it and not say anything if they didn't. Maybe like hunting for heffalumps? It certainly started with their digging a big pit. But not from above! It's rather difficult to conduct a discreet archaeological investigation if you start by removing the altar in St. Peter's basilica. Instead, they had to go in from the side (and actually from below the level they thought they needed), making the excavations that much more complicated.
If you noticed the timing, you have to figure that World War II interrupted the works somewhat. However, the archaeologists worked off and on, in the course of which they discovered some incredibly detailed (pagan) sarcophagi, intact crypts, and so on. One of the treasures was the earliest known Christian crypt. While disguised to include pagan symbols, the mosaics clearly show Jesus as the fisher of men, the grapevine ("I am the vine; you are the branches"), and other Christian references.
As we wound our way through the necropolis, we could appreciate how much work went into the excavations. At some point (towards the altar area of the basilica above), we had to deviate from the direct route, because the road of the necropolis converged (heightwise) with the crypts above, and there was no access. We wound our way around, and were then shown a hole that was identified during the excavations. It had originally held a simple burial (there was no room for a sarcophagus, coffin, or anything other than a body), and was in the right location. There aren't a whole lot of reasons to disinter people in this sort of place, so of course the speculation is that this was St. Peter's original burial location. Time to dig upwards!
Not wanting to disturb these finds, though, the archaeologists moved backwards before going up and back around. Do you know what they found? A marble box! And looking in one location slightly below the dirt level of the box, we could see little columns. From a small monument. If this sounds familiar, you've been paying attention! Feeling rather like sleuths, we followed our guide around the marble box, and found a plaster ... wall? Filler? It didn't look like much of anything, but it was definitely not part of the original marble box. It had been covered with graffiti, and it would have asked too much for the archaeologists not to dig in here, don't you think?
Whether or not you would have been able to exercise restraint, they were not. Behind this plasterwork, they found a wooden box. And in the box were some (168, to be precise) bone fragments, wrapped in purple and gold cloth. Drumroll please! This is highly significant because purple and gold cloth during the Roman period was only used either for royalty or by special permission of the emperor. So these bones were important. There's no record of any emperor's burial anywhere near this location after Constantine (when the box was built).
Of course, the bones were sent of post-haste in utmost secrecy to the expert of the day. He was able to determine that the bones had the following characteristics:
- Belonged to a 60-70 year old male, who was short but very muscular
- Were "old" (undated, but not recent at all)
- Had been initially buried in earth
- Did not include bones belonging to the feet
I think that's it. But still, awfully familiar, don't you think? Given all of this circumstantial evidence, the Pope decided that these were likely to be St. Peter's remains. Seven of the fragments were separated and are in a reliquary in the Pope's private chapel. The other fragments were packed in preservative material (nitrogen, maybe? the guide didn't specify), and sealed in a plastic box that was replaced where the original wooden box had been found.
Phew. That was a lot to write. And read, no doubt. I hope that those who stuck with me found it interesting!
If you know you will be in Rome, you can get a tour of the scavi. Disclaimer: you must write MONTHS in advance (I'm sure the bigger the group, the longer you have to wait). Flexibility in dates would probably help. There is a fee; at the time we went, the fee was 13 euros (about $17 U.S.).
Love,
Alexandra
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