We visited the Villa Borghese Museum today. Originally a suburban party villa, the collection that now resides there was started by by Cardinal Scipion Borghese, the nephew of Pope Paul V. From those 17th Century beginnings, coming to Napoleon’s brother-in-law and finally transforming into a public museum in the 1700s.
The museum boasts the world’s greatest Caravaggio collection and one of the best Bernini collections you can find. There is no photography in the 20-room museum, but here are our favorite sculptures for the day, first a Bernini, his famous Apollo and Daphne. It must be seen in the round, and up close. Then, even someone with little understanding of sculpture, like me, is awed. Another incredible piece is Antonio Canova’s Pauline Bonaparte, which was quite scandalous. She’s reclining on a mattress, which looks for all the world like a different stone, or perhaps like an actual mattress.
The detail in both are incredible.
All of the Caravaggios are in one room. Bernini, meanwhile, absolutely steals the show. He always does. His talent was so great that he could convert even the unartistic viewers. The man had a gift. And makes you redefine your concept of having a gift.
There is a park on the property. We rented a two-person, pedal yourself rickshaw and drove it around, enjoying the beautiful afternoon weather. I took a lot of pictures.
We had a War Eagle moment at the museum, Ren’s first international one. We were waiting to go inside — you visit by appointment — and a lady walked by and noticed my shirt. Guess I’ll have to make a WEM section for the site after all.
We went across the Tiber River into Trastevere, which has gone from medieval village, to working class neighborhood to Left Bank to high priced neighborhood to rustic and touristy. The graffiti is plentiful, though. To get there we caught a bus, which took us to a tram. We missed our stop on the tram, so we got off about six stops later to catch a tram headed the original direction. We took the correct stop (which was the intial stop for the first tram, incidentall) and wandered deep into the neighborhood.
The sky was growing dark and we are stumbling through alleys. Occassionally we wander across a little piazza that Americans have overtaken. Mostly we feel like we are in alleys. A policeman finally helps us find our way to Trattoria da Lucia. Rick Steves says “lets you enjoy simple, traditional food at a good price in a great scene. It’s the quintessential rustic, 100 percent Roman Trastevere dining experience, and has been family-run since World War II. You’ll meet four generations of the family, including Giuliano and Renato, their uncle Ennio and Ennio’s mom — pictured on the menu in the 1950s. The family specialty is spaghetti alla Gricia with pancetta bacon.”
We sit in the alley under the stars, in Italy. We are serenaded by an old man on an accordion who says “U.S.A.!” and then launches into a passionate “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.” It was perfect.
Steves has given us three great restaurants in a row, so I say pick up his books before your next European visit. I had the spaghetti alla Gricia, which was profoundly delicious. We’re ripping off that dish. And we also found the most simple, delicious summer dessert. When we get settled at home after the trip you’ll have to stop by and have some.
A table of four American ladies, a mother and her three adult daughters, were seated next to us. We exchanged names and hometowns and notes and tips on traveling in Rome. Turns out they are from not far from where my family lives. Turns out one of the ladies’ daughters is going to a basketball camp at Auburn. She gives us her card. She is a financial adviser.
We need one of those.
We got turned around in the alleys of Trastevere trying to leave, somehow emerging blocks away from where we needed to be. At first it was The Yankee’s fault (and she’s usually great at this) and then I took over, pointing us in at least the right direction. Time was of the essence. Meals aren’t to be rushed through here. Late starts and two hour dinners are the norm, and the waiters aren’t necessarily in a hurry to produce the check.
Our hotel is on the exact opposite side of Rome from Trattoria da Lucia and the buses stop running at midnight. We finally make it back to the tram stop, catching what might have been the last ride of the night back across the Tiber. We caught the absolute last bus, waiting out what seems to be the driver’s mandatory break at St. Peter’s, still miles from our place.
Finally we made it back to our neighborhood. But we missed the stop. We needed the fourth stop. The Yankee (who really is good at this sort of thing, normally) insisted we’d just made the third stop. Turns out the fifth stop is at the bus station, so we walked back from there. I’ll give her grief over that for days.
In addition to the slideshow above, there is a brief photo gallery on the day.
Tomorrow our cruise begins!
