Sketch of a Trastevere Alley

A junior reflects on a semester abroad in Rome.

By Daniel Weiss ’24
Date

This entry is part of a series reflecting on the study abroad experience, titled An Abroad Retrospective: Time is Out of Joint. You can read the first entry here. 

September 2022, Rome

Tonight, I spent an hour and a half completing a sketch of a street scene for my Italian Art & Design class. There's no shortage of beautiful spots to sketch in my area. I'm living in Trastevere, which grants me the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to, when giving people directions to my place, tell them that my apartment is about 45 minutes away from the Colosseum by foot. (The Colosseum, by the way, is breathtaking, and the subject of another of my sketches. No wonder its name is literally the Colossus.)

The nights in Rome are getting slowly but steadily chillier. It's a valuable break for everyone after a period of 85-90 degree weather that sustained the first month of our trip. So tonight, I donned my coat, grabbed my notebook, pocketed my art pen, pencil, eraser, and sharpener, and began weaving through the maze of Trastevere.

The nights here are intoxicating. The winds of Rome pick up and carry you through the fairy-lit, cobblestone-lined streets of Trastevere—past street vendors, past restaurants where people enjoy any variety of fine pastas and Roman delicacies; past groups of Italian teenagers basking in the ecstasy of Rome at night and past the busy pizzerias outside of which they spend their evenings; past live jazz that always bumps just the right rhythm for the street at any given moment and past the Italians and tourists alike who stand nearby to listen and dance. Roman nights are a symphony, and no one night is ever the same.

It's hardly a surprise that it was difficult picking which street to draw. I eventually settled on a dimly lit, vine-covered alleyway that housed my favorite pasta place, called La Canonica, which served me the best tortellini I've ever had, in a white sauce with peas and ham. I snapped a photo of the alley and headed back out into the Piazza di Santa Maria: one of my favorite plazas in Trastevere, and also the home of the majestic Santa Maria Fountain. I sat down on the side of the fountain, pulled out the photo, and sketched the night away.

As I sank into my sketchbook, a series of events unfolded around me: first, the older Italian man sitting several feet away from me cackled at a small dog that had thrown its entire body into trying to steal a toy from its owner, who lifted the toy and with it, unexpectedly, her dog, and when she tried to swing the dog off, proceeded to swing the dog in clumsy circles through the air. (The dog, I assure you, was having a very good time: when it finally hit touchdown on the cobblestones, it adorned a stupid grin and wagged its tail wildly. It lunged for the toy again.)

The nights here are intoxicating. The winds of Rome pick up and carry you through the fairy-lit, cobblestone-lined streets of Trastevere—past street vendors, past groups of Italian teenagers basking in the ecstasy of Rome at night and past the Italians and tourists alike who stand nearby to listen and dance.

Daniel Weiss '24

Second, a group of Italians not much older than me sat on the fountain steps a few feet away from me and shared a box of suppli. One of the women sat on the step just behind me and to the side, and she didn't participate much in the conversation. I ignored it for a while, but I became steadily more aware that she was watching me sketch over my shoulder. She seemed to be enjoying herself, so I didn't say anything. At one point, I finally turned around, and she pulled her gaze from the sketch, looked me in the eyes, and said "bella." Beautiful. She went back to her friends. 

Third and finally, a burly, middle-aged man armed with one of the nicest, and I know from my experience in guitar, most expensive Martin guitars available, set up a spot in the piazza to play. He'd had a long conversation with some tourists who were sitting not far from me when I first began the sketch, and eventually I'd been able to pinpoint his accent as coming from New Zealand. For the last third of my sketch, I was serenaded by a set that featured Bob Dylan, The Eagles, and Led Zeppelin. When I finally finished, I walked over, swayed to his music, complimented his guitar, and offered what money I had—which was American. I told him that I hoped he would accept American currency. He laughed. "I don't mind greenbacks at all, mate."

When I got back to the apartment, I took another look at the sketch. Maybe someday I'll get it framed. It's busy: people scattering this way and that, smatterings of fairy lights hanging along the restaurant awnings, the haphazard cobblestones populating the road with an asymmetrical chaos, and, watching it all from just above, a blanket of a night sky. I will miss these nights in Trastevere when I am home.

April 2023, Gambier

I was right. I definitely miss those nights in Trastevere. And the picture did get framed, but not by me. When I left Rome, I gave a few gifts to Fra, a graduate student from Naples who I met during my time in Rome. One of the things I gave Francesca was that drawing, and she was the one who got it framed. I wrote this entry early on in my time in Rome, and eventually, those nights in Trastevere became a norm for me. There was something magical in them, and some of the people on the streets began to recognize me. The streets were a poem.

Like all of Rome, the neighborhood was sociopolitically complex, the product of years of gentrification. There's always a reality behind the poem. Even still, after a long day of studying, that was the highlight of my day and exactly the escape that I needed. But Kenyon gives me something similar. I missed the late nights with friends, the weirdly deep conversations, the plaintive silence of campus at night, the peace and the quiet, along with the parties and the inside jokes and the goofs that make my nights around here. I'll miss this, too, no doubt. Missed you, Kenyon. It's amazing to see you again! It's so good to be here. It's so good to be back.