400 year old mosaics and old fashionedness

We walked into the baptistery and looked up above our heads. The description outside the building said that this small church had been constructed in the 400s, before Christianity had gotten it’s act together and consolidated the ideas of the Church into any kind of coherent ideology. The tiny chapel had once belonged to the Arian cult of early Christianity, who gave it its mosaic-covered ceiling.

And the Baptistery of the Arians in Ravenna is stunning. It looks as though it were tiled just yesterday, when in fact the images are over 1500 years old. They are strikingly accurate depictions of people, with each of the disciples around the perimeter with a distinct face, and with Jesus and John the Baptist at the center. In this tiny town that was once the capital of three separate empires (the Roman, the Byzantine, and the Ostrogoth) has some of the oldest intact mosaics in the world!

There are at least five sites in the town that have intact paleo-christian art inside them, and they are all unbelievably well preserved. The church of San Vitale had a huge and mosaic-covered apse, with an arch covered in the Apostles and at the center an image that me and Laura dubbed, Rainbow Jesus, because he has a circle of rainbow colors around him.

It was interesting to see how certain symbols have changed over the more-than-one-thousand years since the mosaics were made. For instance I doubt you would ever see a Rainbow Jesus these days because of the connotation rainbows have with the gay community, and some religious people have become so anti-gay that Rainbow Jesus to them might border on blasphemy. Another example is that of the ancient floor of the church, which was once covered wall to wall in swastikas. For obvious reasons, that is no longer an acceptable symbol to cover a church with, but in the 400s it was a sacred symbol.

The town itself is really tiny and sleepy, but for some reason it, too was bombarded during the war. It is amazing that only one of the churches with the beautiful mosaics was hit. This was unfortunately one of the oldest, San Giovanni Evangelista, founded by the Empress Galla in the early 400s. They rebuilt the church after the war, but the mosaics that were there were mostly destroyed.

It rained the entire day, from the moment we stepped off of the train in Ravenna. Luckily it was not very cold there, but when we returned to Ferrara it was snowing! And bitter, humid cold! Me and Laura rode our bikes down Viale Cavour from the station back to our house, which is actually kind of far. Once we were here we had just enough time to put on warm clothes and then leave again to go to Mass at the cathedral.

Mass is at 6:00 PM every Sunday in the cathedral, and the words are exactly the same as in the States. There are nuns who sing (terribly) and do all the readings, and the music is all very similar to the way it is in the USA. Except that the wine is for the priest only (I think that has something to do with people realizing if they shared the cup of wine, they died of plague…) One funny thing is that when it’s time for Communion everyone just sort of mashes forward toward the altar, because there are no ushers to keep everyone in line! Everyone just jostles for position like they are at a sporting event. It’s hilariously Italian. Also the priest tonight sounded a bit like the Godfather to me.

Today was the first time I had taken the train since arriving in Italy! The trains are really nice here in the North, since even the regional “Bacon Trains” have new seats and some even have a computer that tells you how fast you are going! In Ferrara over the last week I finished my intensive language class (which was one of the hardest classes I have ever taken, since we crammed 40 hours of class into two weeks), and on Friday I took my bike around the city because the sun was out and it was pretty.

I rode about 7 km through the city and around the outside of the walls, and there were so many cute dogs everywhere that kept coming up to my bici (bike) and wanting to play with me. I saw the most beautiful boxer I have ever seen in my life! And I nearly ran over a Chihuahua that had wandered into my path. The walls are really pretty and it is amazing how well they have held up against time (and bombs).

I am slowly learning more and more about this city and everything is becoming more home-like. I love coming back to Carmen’s house and having dinner. Everything I eat is the greatest thing ever because I never have time to eat during the day, and plus Carmen is a great cook. I finally managed to take a picture of Leo, but he is terrified of my camera now since the flash popped up and startled him. Apparently Leo is inammorated with blondes, because he has always tried to give “bacini” (read: licks all over my hands and face) to the blonde girls that have lived here.

He is kind of like Italian men, because last night on my way home from Bar Tsunami (a bar near the university that I go to a lot) with my friends a young man came running up beside me as I went past the bar he was leaving on my bici. He grabbed my shoulder, saying, “Amore della mia vita! Bionda, ‘morosa,! Cosa posso fare per innamorarti di me?” (“Love of my life! Blonde, love! What can I do to make you fall in love with me?”) I didn’t even look at him, and I put out my left hand and pushed him away from me as we went down the street.

When I told Carmen about that today at dinner, she said that I shouldn’t have pushed him. I should have kicked him with my foot instead! I think it’s funny how the Italian women just brush men off.

Writing in English is like having a conversation with an old friend. It’s comfortable and I’m really happy to be able to form sentences that express my thoughts. In English you can make up a metaphor on the spot to express exactly how you feel, but here I think that people just use old proverbs. The language itself seems to be much less flexible, which honestly fits somewhat with the reluctant-to-change Italian ideology.

For instance, people here are actually pretty racist. And contradictory. The other night, Carmen got to talking about immigrants who have come into the country as clandestini (illegals), and how angry she is that she pays taxes that go to put them on a plane to deport them back to Libya or Albania or wherever. When she gets angry, her Calebrase accent comes out a lot, kind of like someone from the South of the USA becoming angry and suddenly regaining their accent. She even said, “Italy is a racist country. And nobody wants to talk about it.” And then two seconds later, she is talking about how Gypsies live by stealing and how they have bad blood. Nothing to be done if you are born a Gypsy. And my brain goes, “What is that?!” It’s not always about skin color, either, because they seem to hate Romanians just as much as they hate Tunisians.

I keep getting angry with myself because I keep making excuses for the Italians’ racism. I say to myself, “They’re just a bit old-fashioned.” Of course, I then realize that “old-fashioned” generally also means “ass-backwards,” and I get mad at them for being so out of the loop and mad at myself for not speaking up against it. Certainly every country has its racial problems, but I think that because Italy and France and other Western European countries never had a Civil Rights movement like the US did in the 1950s and 1960s, they are wayyyyyyy behind the times in terms of race relations. And I think that it’s only going to get harder as this decade goes on and the people on whom racism is being exacted get more and more vocal in their demands for equality.

More than anything I am learning that it is really hard to be this far away from everyone you love. I try to keep myself busy with trips and sightseeing and classes, but I find myself daydreaming about being home with the Colorado sunshine and the kitties and my family and Michael. I want a Chipotle burrito and a hug from everyone. I want KBCO, and downtown Louisville, and open spaces. I want snow and not sleet. I want to be able to watch TV and not constantly be tearing my brain out trying to comprehend not just the language but also the giant female bodybuilder in a bikini in the background of a variety show. But it’s ok. Things will get easier.

Something that helps majorly is that is appears that Spring has kind of arrived in Ferrara!! There are more days of sunshine and the grass is all green and beautiful. I don’t think that it gets cold enough here for grass to go dormant in the winter, which is a strange thing. Today I took a walk around the walls in the sunshine. It was pretty much the most awesome thing ever. Also, I am switching up into more difficult classes. Three will be in Italian and then one in English.

This weekend we are going to Padova (Padua). I promise to write more often now that I have conquered the Italian internet, and to stop writing a novel every time.

Pictures from Ravenna:

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