Power in Rome

Wherever you live, whoever you are, one day or other, you are called to visit the Eternal City. Not only because of the beauty it contains, in the mash of different cultures and lives, but also – and most of all – because it is in Rome, in between these seven hills, the she wolf and the twins, that our western world was born and bloomed in centuries; here and nowhere else, the language of law (not the one of philosophy, which always belonged to the greeks) was spoken since the start. The Romans had four words to eplain power but only one word, the “imperium” was the real power, the power to rule and to punish put together. The power that Augusts avoked to himself to save the Romans and Rome from the decline and fall that was yet to come…

All this and more in my tours for you. I am here, feel free to contact me!

A message from Chris and Angela who walked with me last sunday, a lovely day!: Hello Benedetta.....I just wanted to say thank you again for the wonderful tour you took us on.  Your stories were so interesting. Yesterday we went to The Vatican and also had the tour of St. Peter's Tomb.  The guide was telling us various stories and Angela and I smiled at each other on more than three occasions remembering the lessons we had from you.  We knew the stories and the history because of you.  Thank you again, I will report back to Phil the lovely day spent with you.  Lots of love Chris and Angela xxx

Many tours, Roman walking tours for you

This is me under a greek moon, with my very first bennibag (see shop!)...
I am a journalist, a writer, a blogger, deep in Roman culture and history and art, and everyday life.
Spiritual tour: 4 hours together (from the Trajan Column to Sant'Ivo alla Sapienza) to see and understand with new eyes the silent flow of life that is hidden and obscure to all that run around with blind eyes and closed ears. Join me, have a unique experience in Rome!
I organize many other tours: food tours in the Esquilino, Church tours in the Monti area, shopping tours and whatever suits you best. I will be more than happy to make you happy, please give me a call, see you in Rome
Benedetta

Today, yesterday, always in Rome

Flowers in Sardinia

In the Suburra, where I live (being the first Rione of Rome)0, once upon a time Julius Caesar lived. Yes, the great general the dictator, the man who changed everything in the Eternal City used to live in the middle of the Rome of the people. Not in the Palatine (where August will later build his palace), not in the Aventine (Remo’s hill, the hill of the birds, which is nowadays one of the best places to live in Rome…). No: Caesar, being of a simple equestrian family (not a senatorial one) lived in the Suburra, meaning Sub (under) and Urbs (the City), a place where the crowds lived, where mishaps happened and everyday life just lingered in dark corners…

I happened to guide some people in the Suburra, just a few days and, oh, so many things to see that, living there, I had never,  so to speak, noticed!The Suburra, the Rione Monti, is home of the last Roman artisans, mostly carpenters and, on the 19^th of march, day of Saint Joseph, the ancient spirit of Catholicism rises and the Rione is crossed by a procession of people devoted to the earthly father of Christ. A little piece of tradition that starts its way through the Rione from the Chuurch of San Lorenzo in Fonte, a church so small a cosy one would like to live in it... A church that was nothing more than the house of the centurion who arrested Lorenzo and then became converted and a Christian…After the mass, at eleven o’clock, the snake of people following the holy statue of Joseph and the Child, twists and twirls through the little streets of the ancient Rione. Something a visitor should not miss: today, like yesterday and always.

Please contact me if you happen to come to Rome an would like a very special tour guide! Feel free to write to me t this address: mbennidv@gmail.com I will be happy to answer and very happy to make the best for your stay in Rome...

Paradise regained

Bennibags of my heart, send a mail if you want one!

I do not know why,and it is – believe me - sheer mistery to me, people think that the Middle Ages are a dark period of history and something that altogether scares deep inside, leaving the shadows of the devil somewhere hidden in the bush... But no, no, absolutely not! During the Middle Ages, the great, luminous saints of Catholicism were born and bread: Saint Benedict, Saint Francis, Saint Dominic and many many more that can replenish a big book. So many are the saints and martyrs of the Cathedra of Saint Peter that a huge book (that I am reading right now and that belonged to my grandmother)does not tell the story of everyone of them. Today, for instance, is Saint Anastasia (Anastasis meaning in greek resurrection), but many othe saints are cherished today: Saint Paterno, Saint Leonida and other ones that I do not know. And not only saints but great artists worked and dwelled in those long lost days: Giotto, Pietro Cavallini, Arnolfo di Cambio andnd witers like Dante and Boccaccio and Petrarca and Cecco Angiolieri...

In Rome, the Middle Ages, breathe and prosper in every secluded angle, in every church and in the deepest deep of everyday life. They smile, just to mention one thing, from the beautiful mosaiques of the Christ Pantocrator in many churches (Saint Clement, Saint Mark, Saints Cosma and Damian and on and on in a neverending line), but there is a place, a sacred, golden place where the Middle Ages are so very much alive and palpitating that one could stand in all that beauty for hours on end and the place is the Zenone Chapel in Santa Prassede. Up above, the angels, in golden silent, pray for us on earth, a deer drinks the water of life (the Word of the Father) from a happy spring, Mary is as beautiful as a beautiful doll and all around us is gold like gold is paradise, Paradise regained.

If you want to walk with me for a unique Roman tour, send me a mail: mbennidv@gmail.com

Numa, the great

All throughout its long, long history Rome had its heart divided into two. On the one side: gates open to the east, the Greeks and its Gods and Goddesses and philosophers (how far from Romans were these theorethical fellows from the lawful, practical Romans…), and Egypt with its mysterious and mistycal charms; on the other side, the culture of the Sabins, where the true roots of the Roman seed came: grain and sheep and olive groves and vinyards in the rich countryside that stretches inland, toward the Adriatic sea. It is there in the lands of the Sabins (Sabo meaning sacred) that I spent some of this long, hot, sunny summer. It is there, in the silver hills that I could trace back on the flight of thought where everything began.

It is there that I met, let’s say it in a methaphorical way, the great king Numa, who came after Romulus, and was consacrated to the Gods of his silver lands. He was the one to organize the priesthoods in Rome, he put together Romans and Sabins (after the famous rape of the beautiful sabin girl) to build the future grandness of the Roman venture. He used to talk, for counseling, with the Nymph Egeria, who helped him in the difficult art of ruling his people. He listened to her wise words and ruled in wisdom for many, many years. As I read about him, I could see him come alive in the lands where he always lived, even as the King of Rome. There are no Numas, now in Italy, but the memory of this great King still lives in Plutarch and sometimes, in my sabin nights, I could just hear him wisper in my ear the true story of the forgotten sabin roots of the Roman Empire…

Do as the Romans do

In the heart of the Roman centre, while cars and motorbikes and buses roar their neverending roar and people come an go, in everyday frenzy, as it is in every other city in the world, in the beautifully simple Palazzo Venezia, the Palace of the venetian cardinal Paolo Barbo, who was to become Pope in the end of the Fifteenth century bearing the name of Paul the II,  a lovely garden sleeps its peaceful slumber, hidden in all its renaissance grace in the heart of hearts of the Popes once house, now a museum.

It is shaped exactly like a Roman "viridarium", hidden inside walls as the soul is hidden in the body. It is a dream come true, the loveliest gift for people who like to see Rome in its true face, not rushing from the Colosseum to the Vatican museum seeing too much and understanding little. I took there, during one of my spiritual walks, a little group, some time ago. And while, us four, happy privilegded four, were there in all that beauty, the bells of Saint Mark (the once private basilica of the Pope) started chiming, and ding dong, ding dong, in the silence and in that sweet green, as if time had stopped and we lived  for a long, long minute, in times that are forlon and that caress heart and soul…

Please contact me if you are coming to Rome. Spiritual walks, Food walks, shopping walks, doing just as the Romans do. I will find the right thing for you!. Benedetta bennidv@libero.it

In between pots and pans

On the top of the Esquilino hill, which was, in the days of the Divus Augustus, a cemetery for slaves (where the poet Horatius went to see the witches making their horrid spells)… in a little secluded street off Piazza Santa Maria Maggiore, there is the magnificent Basilica of Santa Prassede. I do not want to make the list of the treasures hidden in this shy but beautiful church, but only tell you the story of the saint to whom the church is dedicated. She was one of two sisters born of a senatorial family. Their father, Pudente, was a great friend of Saint Pauls and such a rich and important man was he that his home (full of gardens and even baths) sloped down from the Esquilino hill towards what is now the cool Monti area. It all belonged to him and to his two daughters who were slaughtered because Christians. Little of very little remains of their vivid memory and martyrdom (meaning being a witness), all saints, who knows why, become statues and bits of paper and loose life and light. What a pity! Where blood and the fire of love used to consume soul and body, only the dust of time has remained…

So very true this is that when, during my spiritual tours, I talk to my guests telling them the stories of, let’s say, Saint Teresa of Avila, their eyes open up in wide bewilderment when I tell them that the beautiful Teresa, while a kid, run away from home together with her brother to join the crusades. Her parents brought them back home and maybe, probably even, spanked her for running away… Yes, the great Saint, the Doctor of the Church was also a naughty little girl, as she said, yes a mystic, “in between pots and pans".

This masterpiece by Lorenzo Lotto shows Mary in the fright of becoming the mother of God. Pleae note the terrified cat running away,  in awe, while God enters Mary's room