Rome: DAY 12

TWELFTH DAY

September 24, 2005

A large group of Visitors and Fellows gathered this morning on the Tiber Island just across from the Jewish Ghetto.  Our Arts Director, who is not Jewish, has had a home in this section of Rome for many years.  The Ghetto is small and always was.  It is about 4 or 5 square blocks, which for hundreds of years was walled and gated.  It opened at 8AM and closed at 11PM.  Dana Prescott, our group leader, had more information than she could get delivered in the 3 plus hours that we spent marching around the small area.  She has lived in Rome for over twenty years and will be here for the balance of her career or longer.  She loves Rome the same way I love San Francisco.  No holds barred, all out, Rome is the only city that supports life on the planet, as she knows it.  Her tour takes us to her favorite pastry shop and a piece of cheesecake made with Chocolate and Ricotta cheese - very rich and sweet.  We walk around to significant churches and monuments and finally a stop at the Synagogue.  It is old and lovely.  Kim thinks we should go to services there for the Holidays.  I am not sure I would go that far but we did get invited to come.  It has a square roof and feels very Sephardic, which it is. It is large and ornate although Dana says that this community was the poorest in Europe.  There are some 15,000 Jews in Rome and about 30 thousand in the entire country.  The surrounding neighborhood is still mostly Jewish but the walls and gates actually no longer exist.  We end up at a Trattoria that serves Artichokes made the Jewish way, whatever that is.  They do a demonstration and the leaves are heavily peeled, the chock is pushed down into the deep fryer and comes out like a French fry with crispy edges.  No wonder they taste so good. Isn’t everything deep fried good?  One of the big historical questions about the Jews in Rome is what did Pope Pius do to help them avoid the German concentration camps.  Clearly, not enough, as thousands of Italian Jews were rounded up and killed.  There is evidence that he tried, but the spin is not much.

The tour ends and Kimberly, who listens to every word wants more.  She is a tireless student and goes to every lecture and tour possible.  I am hungry and this time I win.  We stop at a café for a light lunch and go back to Trastevere where I am preparing to confront the local Mervyn’s called something else.  Sometimes, it is hard to differentiate Italy from the US.  This department store reminds me of the Mervyns at Masonic and Geary, racks of polyester at low prices and no help.  I wander around and read labels and sizes in Italian.  At this point, I speak no Italian, but it doesn’t matter because no one is looking at me.  I think you could steal the store.  Finally, I find a cotton shirt that is not too fitted and voila, I buy it.  I will now be very fashionable and look like an Italian.  We take the steady 75 up the hill and return to our domicile.