Blackwarren Travelogue: Part Five

We’re reached the end of Blackwarren Editor Ren’s incredible journey through Europe, but not before our final stop. Today, we bring it all home through the ancient capital of the Roman Empire - and some thoughts about family and loss.

Day 8

If anyone knows me well, they know that I love Roman history. Yes, I am that male friend of yours who can't stop thinking about the Roman Empire. And today, with us disembarking our ship, I've come to sacred earth: we finally reached Rome. I'm at my most powerful here, and my most insufferable, as my friends were soon to find out.

It is my genuine belief that it is hard to overstate the impact Rome has made on world history. At the height of its power and prestige, the Roman Empire's presence could be felt from every corner of the known world, and the ideals of its republican past, as well as its embrace of Christianity, forever altered the course of Western history. In the walls of this magnificent city sit some of the most famous structures in the world, and I was going to see as much of it as I possibly could.

We reached our hotel for the next two days, the Villa Agrippina. While the hotel has, shall we say, questionable design choices, the history of the building, like practically everything else in Rome, is absolutely fascinating. Agrippina was the ambitious mother of Emperor Nero, who released a fiddling track that was absolutely fire, and her villa stood on the site of our hotel. We're a stone's throw away from the Vatican and other famous landmarks, so we wasted no time.

What followed was a whirlwind tour of the city, where I dragged a sick Tan and very sleep-deprived Jack and Hal across the Piazza Nouvo, half a dozen baroque churches, the Trevi Fountain, the Pantheon, the Colosseum, the Roman Forum, the Circus Maximus, and the Temple of Hercules, all in the span of three hours. I was abuzz with excited nerd energy, to walk the streets of the Eternal City, and excitedly rattled off every lecture about Roman history I had absorbed through years of study.

We then came back to our hotel to collapse for a few hours and then out for pizza in a delightful little cafe whose claim to fame was Fried Pizza— something that, had I heard about it in America, I would've instantly assumed would've done little more than weld my arteries shut. But this is Italy, so it was amazing. After that, we crawled into bed, ready for our last day in Italy and the staggering tour before us: Vatican City.

Day 9

I'm writing this after our very last walk through the streets of Rome; after a dinner outside, perched on a hilltop overlooking the city, we walked down through Roman streets to find what we were promised was the best Gelato in Rome— and it did not disappoint. My last memory of Rome on this trip will be with my friends, sitting on a bench in front of a beautiful neoclassical church on a wide open square, music playing faintly in the background from a nearby bistro. It was bittersweet; I love my friends, but I'd have done almost anything to have Dad there.

To rewind a bit, the day was dominated by touring the absolute behemoth that was the Vatican Museums. This is a sight to behold; the sheer, unmitigated wealth of the Roman Catholic Church is on full display, from great Renaissance masterpieces like the Sistine Chapel and Raphael's School of Athens, to exotic gifts and collections from around the world, most of them gifts and presents given to the popes from visiting dignitaries or missionaries. It's an insane collection; in one day I saw relics from the first Christian churches spread out through Rome, Greece, and Egypt, Roman masterpieces like the Augustus of Primaporta, renaissance paintings, medieval tapestries and reliquaries, Egyptian mummies, Akkadian tablets, and so much more— and I think we only saw about a third of the displays.

But then, there was St. Peter's Basilica. A quick breakdown of the classification of church buildings: all huge churches are not cathedrals. A cathedral is a church where a Bishop presides; their ceremonial thrones, cathedras, give a cathedral its name. A basilica, on the other hand, is any church grand or important enough to be recognized as historically, culturally, or religiously important. So St. Peter's Basilica is "merely" the biggest church in the world, but not Rome's official cathedral. Anyways-

I am not Catholic myself, but it's hard not to feel the weight of history this sacred site has. St. Peter's Basilica has been the nexus of the Catholic world from the very beginning; while the gargantuan church that stands there now only dates back to 1506 and was completed in 1626, Old St. Peter's Basilica, a Roman structure built by Constantine the Great, was given to Pope Sylvester I in 319, who moved in after finally catching the apostate Tweety. It was built over the site where St. Peter, the disciple of Christ, is traditionally thought to have been executed. In the Catholic Church, St. Peter is considered to be the first Pope and every Pope after him claims inheritance from him.

The inside of the Basilica is amazing to behold. Michelangelo's famous statue, La Pieta, rests here, alongside countless works by great Italian masters. Just below us rests St. Peter's tomb, which brought everything full circle for me. In every city we've stopped at, I've lit a candle to honor Dad. Now, I stand in the Vatican's crypt before St. Peter. If you've ever seen a cartoon or TV show that featured heaven, you may know it's traditional to have St. Peter as heaven's gatekeeper.

I lit my last candle in St. Peter's and prayed one last time— not to be rude or presumptuous, but if this grand edifice is good enough for the Popes, it's good enough for Dad, too. We left after that— I continued on my own; Hal was paranoid about packing up for our very early flight, but Jack and Tan caught up with me. I had one last side mission, to see the Ara Pacis, a Roman site. The Altar of Peace was built by Caesar Augustus to honor the peace he had restored to Rome— a giant piece of Imperial propaganda, it was nonetheless a breathtaking work of art.

Now, I sit here, wallowing in all this bittersweetness only a few hours before my flight leaves. I sometimes wondered if I made the right choice going on this trip; I was up to my elbows in credit card bills for all that we bought. But then I think back to a world map that Dad had hanging in his office; it's a gimmick map, all white and black. You take a coin to rub off the patina of grey, like a scratch card, and reveal a much more colorful map underneath. The point is to scratch off the regions of the world you've visited, one by one, until you reveal the whole colorful map underneath.

Mom and Dad didn't have a lot scratched off; California for Disneyland, New York City, Niagara Falls, then Michigan and Missouri, where the rest of the family are clustered. Then, Paris and London, and Germany— where I was taken as a special birthday gift a few years ago. The cruise line we used was so good, I booked with them again for this trip.

And it was all Dad's idea.

When I get home, I think I'll ask Mom to keep the map; I want to finish filling it out for Dad. I owe him.

This concludes Ren’s bittersweet and fascinating travelogue through Europe. But don’t worry - next week we have even more in store for you when Blackwarren Art Director Ivy Gladstone recounts her trip back home to Puerto Rico for the holidays!