This is a photo slideshow Kelly and I did for Stanley "The Manly's" photography workshop. We shot over a period of 3 days and edited for about 16 hours.  The first movement is a sort of spatial analysis, while the second is more of an experiential one.

"Look thou upon me, and have mercy on me; for I am alone and poor.

The troubles of my heart are multiplied: deliver me from my necessities.

See my abjection and my labour; and forgive me all my sins.

Consider my enemies for they are multiplied, and have hated me with an unjust hatred.

Keep thou my soul, and deliver me: I shall not be ashamed, for I have hoped in thee."

Psalm 24: 16-20

I went to 5 pm mass at the Pantheon today.  I observed several things there.  When I arrived, the scene was a typical one: hundreds of tourists (mostly American) milling around, looking up.  It was loud, everyone was talking - I could make out several different languages as I made my way towards the few rows of pews.  I found a spot in the pews amongst the tourists resting there.  As I sat with Billy waiting for mass to begin, I looked at the bank of pews to my right.  There I saw a young girl (maybe 16 years old) and her friend.  She was brushing her hair.  At first I took it as just another strange occurrence (of which I have had many here in Rome).  After she finished brushing her hair, she knelt down on the kneeler and had her friend take a picture of her "praying" in the Pantheon.  Good picture, right?

A lot of people forget that the Pantheon is a church.  It was a temple to all the Roman Gods before it became a church, and it is a feat of structural engineering.  These things often overshadow the fact that it is considered holy ground.  But today, I saw it transformed from landmark to holy space.  A few minutes after the girl had taken her picture (received her false token), several women came through the crowd and started clearing the tourists out for mass.  They asked us three times if we were here for mass.  I was amazed at how quickly everyone was herded out and made to stand behind barriers directly outside the entrance.  I could hear the immense mob outside in the piazza, but it had become significantly more quiet inside.  It was then that I noticed two things: there were only 25 people or so there for mass, and the space is much more impressive when it is empty.  It was depressing to see that out of the 400 or so people packed into the Pantheon earlier, only a handful had stayed to celebrate mass.  But at the same time, I got to see one of the most dynamic spatial transitions in the world.  During the mass the Pantheon felt completely different.  The smell of incense gave me mystic feel while every once in a while I would look up to see the sky slowly darkening through the oculus.  The cantor didn't even need a microphone for his voice to be heard throughout the entire space.  And all the time the largest unreinforced concrete dome in the world loomed above, glorious.  The mass ended and I walked past the swarm of yelling tourists, a smirk on my face.      

"But I am a worm, and no man; a reproach of men, and despised of the people.
All they that see me laugh me to scorn: they shoot out the lip, they shake the head saying,
He trusted on the Lord that he would deliver him: let him deliver him, seeing he delighted in him.
But thou art he that took me out of the womb: thou didst make me hope when I was upon my mother's breasts."

Psalm 22: 6-9

It rained all day today.  It was the first time I've seen it do that here.  We went to the Tempietto.  "The Jewel of the Renaissance."  Let me describe it.  We had hiked up a huge hill, over ancient, slick steps - rain drizzling down on us the whole time.  I had no idea where we were going.  We turned a corner at the top and then we were in a courtyard and there it was: Bramante's masterpiece.  The rain had let up a little.  It stood there looking just like it did in all those slides, pictures, and drawings I have seen.  It occurred to me that I should be happy to be lucky enough to be there.  And I was.  Even with the rain and the walk.

We can only learn through experience.  The only way I would have known how the granite columns encircling the drum of the Tempietto felt was to feel them.  There was a grated hole in the middle of the first floor that looked down into the martyrium of Saint Peter.  I wouldn't have known that if I hadn't of stood on it.

I think I'm finally understanding the worth of studying here.  Sure, it's nice to see the Tempietto, but there is more going on.  In every building we visit, there are years of study, knowledge, and work manifested.  While I will never design another Tempietto, I take the experience and lessons it gives me home.  The ideas behind the material things.  I learned today the true meaning of precedence.  

I realized something at mass today: it’s Lent.  Sure, I got my ashes on Wednesday, but I didn’t really think about it that much.  But this is a holy season. 

I managed to make out this phrase during the gospel: quaranta giorni e quaranta notti.  Forty days and forty nights.  Jesus in the desert.  Is there a reason that I am in Rome for Lent this year?  Is it coincidence?

AMSTERDAM:

Atop Renzo Piano's Nemo Museum

Biking toward the IJ Tower in the East Harbor

All of the lights

ROTTERDAM:

The Erasmus Bridge

Museumpark

Blom's Cube House

PRAGUE:

Sunset on top of Gehry's Dancing House

Stained glass in the St. Vitus Cathedral

The Lennon Wall

I went to Amsterdam and Prague over Spring Break.  Coming off the Istanbul trip, I knew that these cities would seem extra different. 

Amsterdam is a very progressive city.  The first thing I noticed was its excellent transportation system.  Metro, trams, buses, and trains combine to make one of the most impressive public transportation infrastructures I have ever seen.  The city is so easy to move around in.  Bicyclists are everywhere.  There are bike lanes on every road.  In some instances there were actually separate roads and bridges for bikes.  It was amazing.  The first day we rented bikes and went riding around the modern section of the city near the IJ tower block by Neutelings Riedijk.  The pure simplicity of contemporary architecture there was a welcome change from the temple fronts of Rome.  The housing in the Eastern harbor of Amsterdam was great.  Each complex had its own unique view of the canals and its own well-designed green space.  Back toward the city center, the canals radiate around Centraal station.  The place had such a nice feel to it.  The apartments leaning suspiciously sideways, forwards, backwards, the wide, promenade-like streets, the little bridges traversing the canals, public squares with their massive churches and government buildings.  It was all wonderful.  I really enjoyed seeing different architectural styles so close to one another.  On one block you would see a late Gothic church next to a French chateau and a minimalist flat.  The mansard roof was also a welcome sight.  When we went to Vondelpark in the southern part of the city, I was really impressed with its layout.   There were very wide bike paths all around – the park was very much focused on the bicyclist.  But there were still a lot of people walking around as well.  It was just a good mix of public activity.  Amsterdam was the first city I have seen while abroad where I would actually consider living (the numerous McDonald’s and abundant nightlife helped a little).  Amsterdam is doing something right.

I also visited Rotterdam while I was in the Netherlands.  Rotterdam is also very ahead of its time.  It had the same network of bike paths and tram lines that Amsterdam has, except to a greater extent.  Rotterdam’s Museumpark, while under construction, was shaping up to be an exceptional green space.  The Dutch architects have incredible planning abilities.  We visited the Cube House by Piet Blom.  I had seen this complex in slides my freshmen year.  The slides were very misleading.  I remember doubting that a complex of swiveled cubes would ever work as housing.  But when I got there and explored it my thoughts changed completely.  The cubes are all set above a road on trunk-like cores.  The housing is right next to a train station, so public transportation is easily accessible.  It reminded me of tree houses.  There were shops and other services at the base of most of the trunks.  It was the coolest mixed-use development I have ever seen. 

From the Netherlands I traveled to Prague, Czech Republic.  Prague was an entirely different environment.  While I would say that Amsterdam is almost the complete opposite of Rome (lots of new construction, wide streets, McDonald’s everywhere), Prague is its distant cousin.  It is a charming city.   There is something about its dirt-blackened statues and castles.  It was interesting to see public spaces like Old Town square and compare them to Roman spaces like Campo dei Fiori.  I noticed a difference in scale and also number.  Prague is also all about the details.  I tried to pay attention to every building I was passing (accentuated corners with sculpture, over-fenestration), but there was just too much of it.  I think that’s part of the allure of Prague.  All the details coming together in a beautiful jumble.  The first day we were there, we had drinks in Gehry’s Dancing House and got to watch the sunset over the Vltava River from the terrace on the 7^th floor.  That was one of those moments where you go: “Wow.  What am I doing here?”  The Prague Castle and St. Vitus Cathedral were also amazing.  I have never seen stained glass so intricate.  Another highlight of the trip was stumbling upon a random park (which I later learned was Vojanovy sady), where we discovered a flock of peacocks.  It was so surprising to find this gem a few blocks away from the St. Charles Bridge.  But that embodies my experience of Prague.  Discovery of some of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen and not knowing what they’re called. 

Prague also had very efficient public transportation.  The best part of the system was the streetcars.  The streetcars immediately made me realize what my hometown is missing.  In Saint Paul, there used to be a similar network of streetcars, much like the ones in Prague today.  Around the 1950s, car companies came and ripped up all the tracks to make way for the motor vehicles.  It’s all very ironic because nowadays they are building a light rail system due to traffic/green initiatives.  I can’t help but wonder what my city would have been like if the streetcars had not gone extinct.  And when I saw Prague’s system, I was struck with a picture of what might have been.  I would love to not have to own a car.  I would love to not have to pay for gas.  I would love not to support companies like BP and Chevron.  Prague showed me what direction Saint Paul should go in. 

When it came time to return to Rome, I was relieved.  Travelling takes a lot out of you, especially when it is to countries where the languages spoken are languages like Dutch and Czech.  But Spring Break was also a learning experience.  I saw the advantages that the cities have over my own, mainly transportation and green space.  I’m excited to take my experiences home with me and maybe change things.                                  

ISTANBUL:

The crescent moon

Hagia Sophia

Cax and I with our Turkish bros

Istanbul.  I don’t know where to begin.  It’s been a week since we left.  This week has seemed like a month.  I guess that’s a good example of my perception of time while abroad.

Istanbul was an experience.  It was the most exotic city I’ve ever been to.  A lot of people got nervous when it was announced that the Rome program was going to Istanbul instead of the Barcelona program.  People get uneasy when talking about the Middle East, Americans in particular.  I know the word Istanbul connects indirectly with other words in the average American’s mind: 9/11, terrorism, instability, suicide bombers, jihad, bin Laden, etc.  While I didn’t really even consider these things before going, I was aware of them.  A lot of us were saying that it was good that we were going to Istanbul because none of us would ever go there on our own.  “A once-in-a-lifetime, unique experience.”  That’s how we dealt with it.  And it’s true.  I probably would have never gone to Istanbul on my own.  But why?  Having gone there, I see now.  Istanbul is no different from any other city - be it Paris or New York.  It’s ignorance and fear of the Islamic culture that soils our view of it.  I think it was terribly important for me to go to Istanbul.

The trip opened my eyes to several important issues/phenomena.  I noticed the difference between myself and the Turkish people (Western vs. Eastern tradition).  The most striking example of this was the call to prayer that happens five times a day.  Getting woken up by a strangely toned song is startling.  The role of women in society is also off-putting.  But for all the differences between myself and them, I couldn’t help but see similarity.  They pray to God five times a day.  I also pray to God.  The same God.  Their mosques are like our churches.  They go to service once a week too, just like me.  Catholicism and Islam share the same ideals.  We’re all in this together.  Even in Istanbul, I felt religious kinship with the people.  To truly know a city you must know its people.  I think I actually started to get know Istanbul’s people on this trip. 

I felt minute immersion during the day while walking around and sketching numerous mosques.  The time that I felt most immersed in the Turkish culture was at night.  At first I was a little hesitant about what I would do at night in Turkey.  I wasn’t sure about the nightlife, having been warned about shady clubs.  The first night I made a very important discovery: the Turkish hookah bar.  It was at hookah bars that I would have some of the most important experiences of my life.  One night, at a very local hookah bar, I met a few Turkish guys.  They shared a room with about four of us.  I got to know them as I returned to the bar the next few nights.  One of them was an aspiring guitarist named Saleh.  Another was a cellist named Cem.  These guys, along with the coal-filler Eyden, became my friends.  They were all devout Muslims.  I explained to them my traditions as a Catholic and they explained theirs to me. 

On the last night, I went out to the hookah bar one last time.  I saw my friends there.  They were with two new guys who spoke a little English.  I got to talking with them.  One of them was an Islamic radical from Vienna who had just come from Egypt.  The other was also from Vienna but lived in Istanbul.  Our conversation turned to politics and eventually religion.  I found myself considering that these men are taking my words as examples of American thought.  In fact I know they were because I was doing the same thing.  They disagreed with American presence in their own respective countries and around the world.  They thought Obama was a puppet.  While I don’t necessarily agree with everything they said (I did feel mildly insulted at points during the conversation), I couldn’t help but think this: I am talking to Islamic radicals.  These are the people that make Americans nervous.  They aren’t bad at all.  And they were really weren’t.  They wanted to know how the United States treated government with respect to religion.  When I explained the concept of separation of Church and State to them they were visibly puzzled because religion is deeply engrained in their government.  We talked about so many things that it is pointless to try to list them here.  All that I have to say is that these conversations I had with these Turkish guys were some of the most important and enlightening conversations of my life. 

Coming back to the hotel at 2 or 3 am, I found myself wondering about something.  This something had to do with my classmates, and to a greater extent, Americans in general.  I went out to the hookah bar every night of the Istanbul trip.  There were some people who didn’t go out anywhere at all.  This occurrence exemplifies an issue that I think plagues many Americans, including everyone on this trip.  I imagine it as a bubble.  This bubble exists for all of us.  It is our comfort zone.  It is our English-speaking, McDonald’s-filled, Mommy-kissing, Facebook-tagging cocoon.  It is carrying our American culture with us.  It is fear of the different.  It is misunderstanding and the lack of will of to understand.  When we’re in a foreign country, in a city like Istanbul, it’s very easy for us to shut ourselves out from our surroundings.  Turkish is easy to ignore.  But we can’t do that!  We must throw ourselves into their world - shock ourselves with their culture.  I kept thinking to myself: when else in my life will I be able to smoke a waterpipe with Turkish bros a few blocks away from the Hagia Sophia?  And at the same time I am doing this extremely extraordinary thing, there are people sleeping at the hotel.  What are you doing?  I’m not trying to promote unhealthy lifestyles, but you can sleep anytime!  What you can’t do any time is get physically purged in a Turkish bath.  We tend to Americanize things everywhere we go.  I’m trying not to force my culture on people.  I can be as American as I want when I get home.  The more you interact with other cultures, the more cultured you become.

I related much more to the Turkish culture at night much more than I did during the day.  The program surprisingly seemed to be geared more toward shopping in the Grand Bazaar and the spice market than architecture.  I would rather have learned the intricacies of the organization of the Bazaar than know where to get the best scarves.  As I have said before, I didn’t come on this trip to shop.  And it frustrated me when we were continually encouraged to spend an afternoon looking for carpets I can’t afford instead of exploring more of the city.  I appreciated all the mosques we saw, but I felt that they were all too similar in configuration.  I was getting bored sketching pendentives and domes.  I know that the mosque is central to Islamic architecture, but in a city of 13 million people, there has to be more than that.

All in all, Istanbul was an amazing experience.  I learned and saw so much.  It broke down a lot of barriers for me.  It made things clearer and brought up new questions.  To think that I never would have gone there is now a ridiculous thought.