Sunday, May 23, 2010

On “Thriving” Civilizations: Past and Present

What is left of Rome and the Roman Empire are structures made of brick and stone. They were built to withstand anything, particularly attacks. There was careful design and planning in the construction of this ancient city. The remains speak to this.

In the modern world, we have tall buildings and architectural feats as well; they are not similar, they are just different. In two thousand years, what will be left of the world we live in today? Our skyscrapers, buildings and homes will be just a frame, an empty shell of what was.

As I write this, I am staring at the Roman Forum and the Colosseum. What is left of the incomparable design and building structure is fading into night as the sun sets to the east. The bricks have become redder as the sun moves further east. It is as if I am in Sedona, Arizona – watching the ancient rock formations fade into the purple haze of dusk.

The Forum and the Colosseum have been through earthquakes, fires, wars, floods, pillaging and looting. I know this sounds cliché, but if these walls could talk, they would provide a lot of insight into the past and this, intern, would help us understand the direction for the future.

When the modern world is gone the glass walls of skyscrapers will shatter, the wood frames of homes and buildings will decay and rot while the steel frames will remain standing – lifeless, without walls, floors, windows or character. Will generations to come understand our lifestyle and culture with only small fragments and empty shells? There is no Pantheon, Colosseum or Roman forum in the modern world. We have no pyramids, unless The Luxor in Las Vegas counts, which I am pretty sure it does not.

Even the houses we live in cant compare to historical architecture. Look at the old dwellings of the early Spanish and Mexican – Americans. The pueblo homes, of mud and sticks, dried from the desert sun still stand, and aide in understanding a culture and way of life. Cookie cut and manufactured homes will be left to learn from the modern world. What was once a home will become nothing more trash and litter the grounds where a subdivision once “thrived.” These homes are able to stand up against the natural course of the world.

The buildings in front of me, from the Roman Empire were built brick by brick and stone by stone and over a long period of time. Houses in the United States go up in a little over three months in the “thriving” subdivisions. All a contracting company needs to do is throw up a frame of cheap 2x4 plywood, add some insulation, and nail in some drywall to cover the insulation and frame. Now the frame has become a shell. If the house is in the southwest, it may be sprayed with some cement and eventually given a stucco finish. If the house is in Boise, Idaho, cover it with flimsy plastic/aluminum side panels that resemble wood and consider the job done.

What will become of these structures in the modern world in the next 2000 years? Or even the next 200? I guess the good news is that I wont be around to see it. 


Thursday, May 20, 2010

On Poverty and Lending a Hand

The following is a short piece I wrote after observing a homeless woman walk down the streets of Rome at night:

Traffic lights go from green to red and vise versa. The mopeds speed by and the buses come and go, letting off passengers only to collect new ones. People talk on their iPhones without the care of attention to others around them. The sound of suitcases on wheels bump down the uneven stone covered crosswalks in front of Roma Termini, Rome’s Central Station.

Across the street, beyond the tramlines and bus stop, a woman, dressed in a long black skirt and a hooded down jacket walks parallel to the station. Behind her drags a box, her home, and refuge from the night and the rain. She is elderly. Her hair is white and shoulder length. It sticks out from the front of her hood. She is some ones daughter. She may be a mother or even a grandmother. Poverty is real.

Clenched in her right fist is a plastic bag full of the only possessions she has in this world. She crosses the street and walks along the wall of the stations entrance, the cardboard kitchen appliance box is still firmly held. The entrance wall consists of eight tall and wide glass panels. The barrier between her and the rest of society is transparent.

She lays the box down first. The bag is positioned as if it is a pillow. In the three blocks that she has waked, she has not stopped once to beg for a handout. She has no sign asking for a helping hand, there is no baby slung from her shoulder, and she is not performing an act to get applause or encouragement. Her focus is a place to sleep – a warm one preferably. Luckily it is the 5th of May.

She sits upright with her back against the glass window. I have not seen her face yet, but I know what the lines will tell me. I reach into my pocket, grab all the change and look at it in the palm of my hand. I count four euro or so. I walk up behind where she sits upright, tap on her shoulder, and hand her the change in my hand. She tries to refuse the handout, but all I do is smile. Her face is dirty, with fragments of sand and small clumps of dirt stuck between the wrinkles on her face. I look at her closely; she looks like my grandmother who died almost three years ago. We exchange smiles this time.

I spent the night observing.

I wrote this piece as I walked and observed this unnamed woman. When I left her, I couldn’t stop thinking about her face and smile. The lines and folds of her face told an important story. I will never know this story. Maybe her story was about misfortune, death, alcoholism, drug abuse, a layoff, or heartache. It is possible it was a combination of everything mentioned.

What I know for certain is this: at some point in her life, she laughed, loved, danced, smiled, cheered, hugged, sang, learned and most importantly, she lived.

Regardless of whatever circumstance put her in this place, she should not go to bed hungry, without a smile, or without the feeling that human compassion exists and that a helping hand is there.

I stood in the train station for ten minutes as the rain started in slowly and moved in fast and hard. I looked at her from the transparent barrier created by the wall of windows. I just could not stop thinking, “what if this was my nana?” I would not want my own grandmother to go to bed hungry or without a warm feeling in her heart.

At the lower level of the station there was a grocery store. I went and got her strawberries, bread, and water. Strange combination, I know, but I chose strawberries because I wondered the last time she had eaten them. Did she remembered the flavor when the juice reached the taste buds or what it felt like to have the small coarse grainy seeds pass through her teeth.

On my way out, I passed a McDonalds. I am morally against the company and the practices they have, but I felt that she would want a cheeseburger as well, or two. The total came to two euro. I handed the cashier a twenty-euro note. I stuffed the change into my pocket. When I brought the food out to her, she refused to take it. No Senoré. She spoke no English. I took her hand and left the food. She put the strawberries under her blanket, to save them for later. As I walked away, I could hear the bag from McDonalds opening.

In this twenty-minute period, I never once thought about money. It did not matter. I just did what I knew felt right. When I walked towards the metro, I pulled out the change from McDonalds to place it in my wallet. I counted twenty-three euro. The cashier had miscounted, and gave me an extra five-euro, the exact amount I spent on the purchase of this woman’s meal. There was a reason I decided to buy her dinner tonight.

I made a difference in this woman’s night, and in her life. I know she’ll remember that someone showed her decency and compassion when she had nothing. She needed the food more than I needed the money. I am not foolish to think that I can change the entire world, but I know I can make a difference. I walked all of Rome and saw the Colosseum, Pantheon, Roman Forum and everything in between, and this moment, was most significant. The bottom line is that there are too many people in this world and the money and resource is not available to help everyone. But helping just one makes an impact, and if everyone threw out a hand here in there, maybe the world could be a better place. But who know, I sure don’t. 


Saturday, May 15, 2010

On Rome


I was meant to leave for Italy on Sunday, the second of May. I intended on going to Florence and Rome. Saturday afternoon I got online to purchase my bus ticket to Bremen Airport, the airport in Germany that caters to RyanAir flights. When I got online, the bus was sold out. This meant I had to travel on Monday, and because of this, I decided to spend my entire time in Rome. I didn’t want to split up 4 days between both Florence and Rome, so when I landed in Milan on the 3rd of May, I went straight to Rome.

My train ride to Rome went through Tuscany. All I can say is this countryside is absolutely beautiful and green. Rolling hills with vineyards. Small establishment towns built on hilltops designed to center around a church at the top. I am not sure why the placement is here; maybe it brings the people and church clergy closer to God. It is the closest thing to touch the skies of heaven. The tips of the church scrape the sky with the beliefs held inside. I can even see the communities off in the distance with a church at the top.  Small rivers wind in and around the landscape. There is no real flat land. This is a complete contrast to the Netherlands.

The hills and landscape are alive in beauty, color, and scenery. The grasses and plants very in shades of green and the land that has been plowed to make room for the new harvest of grapes. The ground resembles the stripes on a watermelon rind. Everything feels alive. The history is alive in these small villages of Tuscany. This is the type of area that I prefer. If I could, I would stay in this area and explore more – maybe I will have time in July. The homes and buildings are old. The vineyards have been producing grapes for years. New grapes sprout with each harvest but the soil is acting on instinct.

The train weaved in and out of tunnels built inside the mountains of this region. The railroad had to be built around the existing landscape. Is it strange that I am traveling at 140km/h under a mountain? Are we meant to be taking trains through mountains and underwater? Is this too far?

I enjoyed the train travel more so than anything. I got to really see the country. On a plane, I contribute to a lot of pollution and the high-speed train works off of magnetism. I felt like I am making less of a carbon footprint.

In Rome, over the course of four days, I saw almost everything there was to see. I walked the entire city at least five times. I couch surfed with a professor from a university in Rome. He had a lot of insight into things to do and made my experience a lot better. I went to all the tourist sites from the Colosseum to the Vatican and some places off the tourist trail. The Roman Baths, were a really cool structure. So much remains and being place about 2 kilometers outside the center, it is less concentrated with tourists. I think I saw a total of thirty people while I was there. It is nice to have pictures of structures without any people in them.

The Vatican was an interesting experience. There was so much to see and it was sort of overwhelming. I ended up joining in on a walking tour so that I could learn about what I was seeing. The art was impressive, I’ll admit that, but being in the Vatican didn’t move me. I enjoyed walking around Rome more. It was more interesting to see the remains of a society that thrived for so long. It was cool to walk around the entire city and see small artifices from the empire. Seeing a column that was 2000 years old was way more interesting for me.

Overall, I really enjoyed Rome and I would have loved to spend more time there. The food was amazing and the coffee was the best I have ever tasted. The right amount of foam, milk, and espresso made for a cappuccino that required no sugar. The best part was that this cost under a euro fifty. Mmmm. I love the Netherlands but the coffee here is bitter and overpriced. Missing the coffee already.

Love and Peace ~ JP Popovich