by
Melinda Pillsbury-Foster
At
this time of year the shepherds came down from the hills into Rome to
set up their braziers. In the evening you could find them by the
flow of the embers and the rich scent of roasting chestnuts. I
usually bought mine where the bridge flows over the Tiber River as a
pathway to Castel Sant'Angelo. The shepherd had not changed his
clothes to come into the city, and was always garbed in clothing
which showed the wear of long, rough use. His hair was long, coming
down past his shoulders.
The
chestnuts were always so hot they would burn your hand through the
newspaper cornucopia, which the shepherd rolled himself to hold them.
Even through my leather gloves I could feel the heat sinking into my
fingers as I handed him 50 Lire in payment along with a tip. He
would always smile as I left, nodding as he said, “Buon
Natale.”
As I walked into the night my eyes were
drawn to the angel which sits atop Castel Sant'Angelo, lit up against
the dark sky, seeming almost about to take flight. Castel
Sant'Angelo means Castle of the Archangel.
The
building was originally built as a tomb for Emperor Hadrian in 139
AD, it had taken sixteen years to complete. Later, it fell to the
use of the popes, who built a secret corridor, called the Passetto di
Borgo. Through this passage popes flee the Vatican to take refuge in
the beautiful apartments maintained for their use, as happened when
the army of Charles de Bourbon's sacked Rome in 1527.
When
the shepherds come down they bring their bagpipes and fill the city
with the sounds of their ancient instruments, too. Watching as they
held them, close to their chests, the sounds swelling into the air
around me, gave me a sense of reaching into the past. At first, the
sound surprised me, as I had always associated bagpipes with Scots.
Walking
on cobblestones, eating my cooling chestnuts, my next stop would be
for Cioccolata Calda, heavy with chocolate and cream.
Rome
was once the center of our world, a meeting place for diverse
cultures and beliefs. It is right that walking through Rome during
Christmas summons both the memory of the birth of the Prince of
Peace and the winter still ahead, as on Solstice the earth begins its
turn from winter toward the rebirth of spring.
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