Student Bloggers

When I signed up to study abroad in Rome, I knew I was going to be in constant contact with some of the world’s greatest art. The sculpture, the paintings, the architecture—Rome has it all, and then some. What I wasn’t expecting was the incredible attention to detail in all the buildings—the floors are often made of original renaissance mosaic, the ancient columns on the faces of national monuments showcase some of the world’s rarest marbles, and even the cobblestones in the historical center have been laid out in a specific way in order to honor their history (legend has it that when you walk through historical Rome, you’re walking on the same stones Saint Peter walked on when he preached Christianity in ancient times).

With all this rich detail in every aspect of Roman achievement, what’s impressed me the most has been the ceilings. We do a lot of things well in America, but Italy is leaps and bounds ahead of us in the ceiling department. And I’m not just talking about the Sistine Chapel, either. History has crowned Michelangelo the undisputed king of Italian ceilings, but here in Rome everywhere I go there’s more ceiling art to take in. Every time I wander into a new church or villa (or even an apartment complex!) there’s more to marvel at. There are so many impressive ceilings in Rome that it’s almost become a game—the rules are simple: stare at the ceiling for as long as you can without bumping into a tourist or getting a neck cramp.

Tips of the trade thus far: if you want to avoid neck cramps from staring open-mouthed at ceilings, I recommend tilting your head straight back but slightly to the right to minimize cramping. And to avoid both pesky tourists and running face-first into a marble column while you gawk, I recommend swinging your arms around in lieu of actually looking where you’re going—the tourists will steer clear of you and, as a bonus, it’ll keep you from breaking your nose on a slab of imported Egyptian red marble.

A professor here at Arcadia in Rome told me that Roman ceilings are intricate because ancient Romans thought of themselves as the gods’ chosen people. Any time they looked up, whether they were outside or inside, they wanted to be reminded of the beauty of the gods, and the many ways in which the gods had blessed them with various talents. While the cockiness of Ancient Romans is no historical secret (Et tu, Brute?) the notion of creating an intricate ceiling as a religious tribute really is beautiful. And in a way, it's a testament to what kind of people the ancient Romans were.

As a Thoroughly Modern Millie, I try to keep my feet planted as firmly on the ground as possible. I look down, I watch where I’m going, and I try not to stumble and fall. But I do fall, practically all the time. In fact, there’s at least one cathedral that I will never return to because I tripped and fell and let out an involuntary Tarzan-yell on the way down. Due to embarrassment, I can never go back there. Maybe the Ancient Roman lesson in this is that, if you’re going to fall anyway, you might as well pick your head up and enjoy life a little before you do. Marvel, gawk, remind yourself that there are things in the world worth experiencing. And while you marvel, let the beauty of the gods guide you—they might ram you full-force into an angry German tourist, but they also might point you toward some pretty amazing adventures.