(Part
1.1 of the “All Rover the World” series)
Disorder,
noise, chaotic traffic, daze, huge monuments... The tourist who arrives in Rome
for the first time usually feels a sense of being lost. Formed at the center of
a mountainous group of volcanic origin, the city seems to have gathered in
itself the fire and the burning lava of its volcanoes. – from “Roma in quattro
giorni” (1975)
Rome,
Day 1: Heart, be a lake
It
was past dinner on a Thursday when we entered the Eternal City. That explains
perhaps why it was not quite the Rome as some would have warned us to stumble
into. Not much noise, nor heavy traffic, not the expected chaotic welcome of a
bustling city, not even a certain sense of being lost. It was as if we were
really supposed to be in this place at exactly the right time.
No
longer a stranger to this part of the world, I did not come to Rome in search
of some sort of fire of city life that any capital could offer. This was not to
take away the fact that it was once “Caput Mundi” and still is, in one way or
the other, very much alive and full of marvel and surprises through the years,
or centuries. It is ever evolving, eternal, to mention the obvious. I came to Rome to
be with new friends, looking forward to seeing the glow in their eyes and their
jaws dropping when they experience one monument after the other for the first
time.
For
four days or so, we stayed at a palazzo built on the ruins of what used to be
one of Emperor Domiziano's residences, as hearsay would have it. It enjoys a
view of the lake Albano, the same as that of the Pope's as he, too, was in
“vacation” at Castelgandolfo for the summer. And so, at almost midnight, on our
first day in Rome, I found myself sitting on top of a wall, watching over the
lake like it was the most natural thing to do. It was calm and collected,
mirroring the half-dark of both the city with its sleepy lights and the sky
bedazzled only by a few serene stars.
We
actually started our journey with a sidetrip down by the lake Bolsena, where a
church was witness to a Eucharistic miracle. We arrived early enough to have
caught both the sun and the moon watching us over like two eager eyes
anticipating each of our careful step as we try to befriend the lake. The water
was not that hot, not that cold, either. And it was not clear as to who
conquered who, but after a short while, I was already freestyling comfortably,
oblivious to the absence of salt and waves. It was an easy, necessary
introduction.
A lake. How much sky, how many suns and moons
and stars can it contain in its mysterious, almost haunting tranquility? How
much of my worries and dreams and thoughts can it mirror? I wasn't sure if the
Pope was staring at lake Albano at that same ungodly hour, nor was I
entertaining the idea that he could also be fishing for answers to the very
same questions as mine.
A
lake. Right until that day, I have never been fond of lakes, being the island
freak, archipelagic that I am. It's too dark, menacing in its secrecy and
silence, self-possession. I have always been a child of the sea, out there,
exploring, reaching out to shores and pulling back when it gets too familiar,
always changing wave after wave.
But
a lake is also about gathering, keeping. It's about containment.
It's not about possession nor self-centeredness. It's about recognizing the
things that we need to hold in and hold onto, before we offer ourselves back in
total abandon and sheer vulnerability to the call of the sea. These were the
very thoughts I was telling myself those days as I carried in one
hand a map and in the other, my heart. And I would have had loved for those thoughts to linger like keeping water in the mouth for as long as it takes. At least, for
the next few days that we had there in the Eternal City. (To be continued...) //Unshod Rover for Oasis Holidays
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Unshod Rover is a worldwide-eyed wanderer currently based in Bangalore, India. You may follow his musings and journeys on this blog. "All Rover the World" chronicles his continuing travels wandering about the world and stumbling upon strangers.
