by Melinda Pillsbury-Foster
At this time of year the shepherds came
down from the hills into Rome to set up their braziers. In the
evening you could find them by the flow of the embers and the rich
scent of roasting chestnuts. I usually bought mine where the bridge
flows over the Tiber River as a pathway to Castel Sant'Angelo. The
shepherd had not changed his clothes to come into the city, and was
always garbed in clothing which showed the wear of long, rough use.
His hair was long, coming down past his shoulders.
The chestnuts were always so hot they
would burn your hand through the newspaper cornucopia, which the
shepherd rolled himself to hold them. Even through my leather gloves
I could feel the heat sinking into my fingers as I handed him 50 Lire
in payment along with a tip. He would always smile as I left,
nodding as he said, “Buon
Natale.”
As I walked into the night my eyes were drawn to the angel which sits
atop Castel Sant'Angelo, lit up against the dark sky, seeming almost
about to take flight. Castel Sant'Angelo means Castle of the
Archangel.
The
building was originally built as a tomb for Emperor Hadrian in 139
AD, it had taken sixteen years to complete. Later, it fell to the
use of the popes, who built a secret corridor, called the Passetto di
Borgo. Through this passage popes flee the Vatican to take refuge in
the beautiful apartments maintained for their use, as happened when
the army of Charles de Bourbon's sacked Rome in 1527.
When the shepherds
come down they bring their bagpipes and fill the city with the sounds
of their ancient instruments, too. Watching as they held them, close
to their chests, the sounds swelling into the air around me, gave me
a sense of reaching into the past. At first, the sound surprised me,
as I had always associated bagpipes with Scots.
Walking
on cobblestones, eating my cooling chestnuts, my next stop would be
for Cioccolata Calda, heavy with chocolate and cream.
Rome was once the
center of our world, a meeting place for diverse cultures and
beliefs. It is right that walking through Rome during Christmas
summons both the memory of the birth of the Prince of Peace and the
winter still ahead, as on Solstice the earth begins its turn from
winter toward the rebirth of spring.
No comments:
Post a Comment