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The Long Walk |
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written
by julia625 / 10.24.2005 |
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Part 1: |
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Every cemetery obviously has the same purpose; to provide a resting place for the deceased. The two cemeteries I visited, despite the identical purposes, could not have been more different. The first one I visited, the Protestant cemetery, was tucked away on Via Caio Cestio. If you weren’t looking for it, you might not even notice the insignificant gated entryway in the middle of the huge stone wall. Once you entered, you were enveloped by a mass of unique graves and foliage covering a small, rolling, hill. The graves were in no particular order but were vaguely sorted into something resembling horizontal rows. The actual gravestones varied from simply a small plaque on the ground to a full, above ground, sarcophagus complete with a human body carved out of marble resting on the lid. Despite their differences, all the graves somehow fit together very agreeably. Overall, the ambiance of the cemetery was one of peace and familiarity. It was a very comfortable place to be, with low trees and bushes everywhere shielding the while pebbled paths leading through the property. I felt very safe there and could have easily lost myself studying all the unusual burial plots for hours.
The second cemetery, the British Military Cemetery, is located on the Via Nicola Zabaglia. The entrance to this site is much more obvious with a large brick gateway on a wide sidewalk complete with a plaque proclaiming the valor of the British Soldiers who fought and died for Italy. Once you walk through the gateway, the entrance opens up into the sprawling lawn, about the length of a football field, stretching out in front of you. Immediately to your left are the perfect rows of identical, white tombstones, not too big to be tacky or too small to overlook. The grass is perfectly manicured, scarred only by a straight rock path leading across is length and pausing at the large white cross in the center of the lawn, opposite the graves. Although strict, this cemetery is peaceful nonetheless. It is very ordered, as one would expect a military cemetery to be, but still beautiful. It is respectful and tranquil and, despite their identical shapes, the tombstones all bear different, meaningful, inscriptions.
The two cemeteries are visibly polar opposites; one represents total order while the other would not even be considered tidy. Although the landscaping and method are different, the two pieces of land accomplish the same thing. The British Military Cemetery employs a tasteful, pristine style, leaving little room for imperfections yet giving the buried soldiers the respect they deserve. When you enter, you feel yourself going quiet because it seems like the right thing to do. The Protestant Cemetery, on the other hand, uses disorder to its advantage. The miscellaneous tombs promote feelings of reassurance and peace through its comfortable ambiance. It feels as if there are no rules and if you want to spend all day wandering through the graves and remembering their inhabitants you are more then welcome to. It is easy to get lost here and have a private moment with those buried beneath you. Despite their differences, each cemetery is beautiful and respectful in its own way. Each one satisfactorily pays tribute to the deceased buried there and invites the viewer in to both experience and honor the lives of the departed.
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Part 3: |
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I was immediately drawn into the central market at the Piazza Testaccio by the simplest thing possible; the brightness of the colorful skirts hanging in a stand right on the edge of the market. They were not loud or gaudy. They were not meant for tourists, but plain and functional, just like the market. One I pulled myself away from the skirts and ventured into the market I was immediately surprised. I was expecting something similar to the flea market at Porta Portese, where the vendors are almost oppressively trying to draw you to their stands. Instead, there were various people shopping at the meat, cheese, fruit, vegetable and bread stalls lining the indoor marketplace. They were talking quietly among themselves, ordering their goods, paying and moving on to the next booth in a very efficient manner. The marketplace was filled with a pleasant bustle similar to that of the Campo di Fiori, but without the loud American tourists trying to pronounce “2 peaches” in Italian.
Although I was drawn in by the satisfying level of activity in the market, what caught my attention the most was the old women wandering about. There must have been at least 15 women over the age of 60 with their shawls wrapped around their shoulders and wool coats walking around. They were all collecting the necessary food, some in pairs, and then moving on with their business. While the other shoppers and vendors paid our group at least the customary “tourist glance”, the women didn’t seem to notice or care about our presence. These women express the general feeling of the marketplace. The whole market had a rhythmic yet repetitive atmosphere. I felt like if I went there everyday I would find the same vendors in the same spots and the same women shopping at their counters. When I walked into the market, I was excited and confident, ready to try my bargaining skills on a new pair of shoes. However when I walked out of the market, shoeless, I felt like I had disturbed the perfect, habitual world of these women. The market is a purely functional place that is almost inhospitable to tourists.
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