Heresy 4-14-12

Ancient colosseums, medieval towns and gothic cathedrals aside, the reality is that Italy pretty much looks like California. Resting on the same latitude line like studs on a leather belt, we and Italy share the same climate, flora and fauna, and it’s hard not to feel like you’re in Southern California when you're here, (minus the palm trees that don’t belong in California anyway).

When I first came here in 1970 I was incredibly disappointed by this. I expected Rome to be exotic and foreign, which would make me pretty darn special for being there, I thought. It was astounding, of course, to see monuments, artwork and structures that were hundreds of years old, but they seemed oddly out of place in a physical setting that felt so familiar. I’m not sure exactly what I expected, but it wasn’t what I got.

Of course, we had already seen lots and lots of gothic cathedrals (and saint body parts in their nifty reliquaries) on our backpacking five-dollar-a-day trip to Europe. In fact, I’m pretty sure we’d seen EVERY gothic cathedral in Europe on that trip. My travel partner had just earned a Master’s Degree in Renaissance music, so his prioritized interest in medieval architecture trumped my desire to, say, eat decent food almost every day. It was that trip that convinced me that once you’d seen one cathedral you’d probably ‘seen them all’, differences in artwork and degrees of overdone gilding aside.

I am aware that saying this out loud is probably the worst kind of heresy for someone on a trip such as ours. I have the urge to chastise myself soundly for even thinking it, ungrateful wretch that I must appear to be. But for the sake of honest disclosure, it just seems only right to let you know what is really running through my mind as I climb ancient cobble stone steps in Labro. Along with the incomprehensible idea that I'm laying my Reebok tennies on the same pathway that someone in the 12th century walked upon is the realization that some things don't really change in 800 years. A balmy, sunny climate must feel the same on my skin as it did on theirs. Love, loss, grief, joy - marriage, having children, going to church, making dinner....those fundamentals of human life must be the same on some level, right? When you look at religious iconography and frescos all day, it's easy to forget that regular people lived in these houses and moved through the routines that get us all from birth to death. I'm endlessly curious about what their lives must have been like, and the structures tease you with hints and ideas.

All I can know for sure is that it feels comfortably familiar here....which is the beauty and puzzle of it all.