Layer Cake

In October 2023, declining the bus trip back to our hotel, travel friends Sandra, Mary and I set out on an ambitious hike from central Rome to our hotel some 4 miles distant. And we made it thanks to Sandra's GPS prowess. It was hot, it was noisy and dirty, it was...Rome! But what we saw! The hazy day photos are from that walk - I managed this sunny photo in 2024 on my return visit.

Just as travel and history interweave, so did the fortunes and failures of states in the early centuries. Indeed, as we know, borders are fluid and nationhood a sometime thing. Reading the history this magnificent structure has seen is a fine case in point.

When I spent my solo week in Rome in 2024, one of the many admission tickets I purchased was one to Castel Sant'Angelo.  The visit was astounding.  I entered at the level of the bridge in the photo above and over the course of the day trudged uphill through history. Literally, as we say. 

Given that there are so many websites available to an interested reader, I won't write its long story; you can explore at leisure sites like this official website. There's a link to book your tickets if you really get enthused. I started with my favourite SmartHistory site - they too allude to the layered history of the place.  In fact, the more online resources I explore, the more I see that it's inescapable - the layered look lives here. I'll just park a few other links here and there, for reference and future armchair travels.

At the risk of restating myself, this blog is for me, primarily (though I am delighted to have you along on the read.) I'm just going to  post my favourite photos of the visit and recapture the feelings the place. Okay with you?

Visiting Castel Sant'Angelo involves a circular tour of the structure, one layer at a time, with soaring views over the city, architectural detail at one's fingertips and escapes into vastly different history-filled interiors at each level.

 I'm really struggling to capture the feelings the visit gave me - my heart was racing throughout. I'm copping out a bit and including a  walking tour video. I'll go there again, and you are warmly invited. It's not narrated, so you can enjoy the background noise and pretend you're there in person. 

Here's a link to the official site again, for more description.

Art, historical fragments, interpretive panels lead the traveller onward.

The bottom circuit of the building is the base of the second century Mausoleum of Hadrian. The structure became part of the defensive system of the city in the 400s. The circular corridor was comissioned by a Renaissance pope. In places, the original Roman walls of the mausoleum are visible, all once clad in marble, pinched by Roman citizens in the 14th century. Sensible reuse policy carried on through history, evident all around you in Rome.

Niches in the massive walls contain architectural bits, removed from context, most still unidentified.

The road rises before you, and you enter, awe not optional, the vaulted corridor, 12 metres high leading to the 'Helicoidal Ramp' processing up to the hall of urns, the resting place (at one time) of the Emperor and his people.

Above, an evocative empty niche, where the remains of Hadrian and his family were once at rest. The holes in the stone mark the location of iron clamps which held sumptuous marble wall panels.

More stairs - Roman brick! - and a niche of indeterminate age (to me, anyway) and this quote from Henry James on a panel nearby: "At last for the first time I live. It beats everything! It leaves the Rome of your fancy, your education, nowhere. It makes Venice-Florence-Oxford- London seem like little cities made of paste-board. I went reeling and moaning thro' the streets in a fever of enjoyment."  

Now that may be overstating it a bit, but I was pretty overwhelmed at this point. And looking back, even with photos, I've lost the continuity of the day's wandering. So many layers of history in one spot...I've had to do a lot of reading and viewing to get it somewhat clear in my head.

After this point, I entered a museum floor, chocka with images and  artefactsand medieval weapons. 

 Two fascinating models had this time traveller zooming. Above, a recreation of the medieval edifice, become part of the city's defensive system in the 400s; to the right an educated guess as to the appearance of Hadrian's mausoleum. 

And then suddenly, I was outdoors, in a closed courtyard on the fourth level overlooked by a delicious patchwork of stucco and stone walls attesting to many alterations over many centuries.

 This somewhat neglected-feeling space was the 16th century Court of Honour, or Angel's courtyard (for the presence of  Archangel Michael in his 1544 iteration.)  This space is described as the central hub to the upper residential areas of the castle and was designed as a reception area for the papal apartments. Not especially splendid now; some decorative elements removed over time, is my guess.

I walked through an unassuming door and entered the stunning white and gold Hall of Apollo. There are ten fresco panels depicting mythological scenes and floral designs. Grotesques are a recurring theme, the style Renaissance with lots of classical references. 

Pope Nicholas V had the room built and decorated (by a student of Raphael's, I see) in the mid-1400s as a reception area. Dressed to impress. This room marks the moment when Castel evolved from strictly a defensive function to a comfy papal residence, AI tells me.

And from there, it just keeps getting more splendid. Room leads to room and my brain was quickly full, but my phone kept clicking away. Which is why I do this. In my Febuary free time, I am loving researching and putting myself back into the moment via photos.

These rooms feature decorative elements dating

from Clement VII's 1527 sojourn. Although some features were replaced over time, his name shows up on the coffered ceiling.

And this photo, I love. It affirms the multilayered history I'm struggling with. The room is called La Salla delle Giustizia, or Hall of Justice. This is where trials for such notables as the philosopher Giordano Bruno, whose statue I sought out in Campo de'Fiore later, at the urging of my friend Larry. I skipped the display of torture instruments involved in the pursuit of justice at the time.

And on the topic of multilayered! The stone blocks  are some  of the actual interior walls of Hadrian's Mausoleum. The  fresco above the door depicting St. Michael the Archangel with the symbols of justice dates from the 1550's. And the long view is a peek into the next room featuring a black and white photo exhibit celebrating the centenary of the birth of the beloved Italian actor Marcello Mastroianni. 

If I remember correctly, at this point my brain was chocka and I found an exit onto the circular walkway atop the battlements. The Marcia Ronda (patrol path) changes in nature as you walk around the top, marvelling at the stupendous views of Rome. At various points around the circumference one enters the domain of different Renaissance popes and their decorating self-expression.

The walk varies in character from heavy masonry passages open to the sky, to arbour-covered stretches. Here and there, stairs lead up and down to other levels and new discoveries. 

At various points, you can enter the apartments of the popes who sheltered there over the years in times of trouble, like the Sack of Rome in 1527. 

There's even an elevated passage called the Passetto di Borgo (c. 1280) that leads from the Vatican to the Castel Sant'Angelo. It  was re-opened in 2025, the year after my visit. (As if there weren't already enough reasons to get back here.)

Outside each apartment, the adjacent section of the walkway was done up in the style of the day. So, while distracted by the views one also has to take in sumptuous ceilings, floors and wall treatments. Fortunately there were marble benches here and there upon which to regain one's composure.

The most sumptuous apartments were those of Paul III, the Counter-Reformation pope, with that 'back-atcha Luther' over- the-top Baroque style . 

The frescoes feature scenes of Alexander the Great and his exploits, an association the triumphant pope appreciated.

This apartment truly has 'the best view from a balcony'. Exiting the sumptuous interior, I was drawn into the brilliant sunshine, onto the colonnaded walkway and out along the entrance bridge leading back across the Tiber. I've enlarged the photo so you can be there too.

As if that sublime moment were not enough, there was still another layer to experience. A peak experience, the roof of Castel Sant'Angelo.  

A last opportunity to take in the wonder of the Tiber flowing through Rome, the same presence the writers made no attempt to bring to life, in my high school Living Latin textbook.

To follow with my eyes the route of the Via della Conciliazione to St. Peter's Basilica, which I'd walked on my long way home a few days ago..

To play 'where's Waldo' with the Pantheon and the Vittoriano floating in the haze.

To feel the robust ancient stone under my elbows as I leaned to drink in the Tiber and its bridges.

 

And to exchange a word with St. Michael the Archangel (1753 version)  sheathing his sword after calling 'game' on the 590 AD plague - God's wrath had been appeased. The legend has it that Pope Gregory I was leading a procession to the Mausoleum of Hadrian when he experienced the vision. 

From that point onward this place became known as  The Church of the Holy Angel - Castel Sant'Angelo.

Acceptance

 I love walking. Travel affords such splendid opportunities. Generally I'm too impatient to learn local bus routes and schedules so I just set out. Most days involve from 15 to 18 thousand 'steps' as measured by my most motivational Fitbit. 

During a stay in hot and sunny South Kensington a few years ago I ambled from 'home' in an Edwardian terrace off Kensington Church Street all the way through the royal parklands, totally distracted by 'sights' and tours, ending up at St. Martin in the Fields, about 3 and half miles (and seven hours) of pavement later. Mercifully a taxi appeared after a long day of avoiding centre city political demonstrations, so I didn't  have to do the return journey. 

My 2024 solo stays in Rome and Florence were full walking also - very convoluted and often totally lost, and I loved every minute. And naturally, every visit on group tours involves miles of glorious guided tours.

A minor knee injury this winter has pointed out choices that I may have to begin making on my travels. But not for the first time. It was on a visit Lindos on the fascinating island of Rhodes last October that I heard myself say "pass" and suprising myself. I passed on the trek up to the Acropolis of Lindos.

A side note : Acropolis means "a citadel or fortified part of an ancent Greek city, typically built on a hill." We can be forgiven for thinking that the most celebrated Acropolis, that in Athens with the 5th century Parthenon,  Erechtion,  Propylea and Temple of Athena Nike is 'the' Acropolis. But most cities with elevations had them, for the most practical of reasons.

I got lots of reports from returnees from the 116 metre height Lindos acroplis climb confirming I'd chosen well. Wanting to see for myself I had a look for videos of the climb, and am more than ever confident I made the right decision. At minute 1:16 of  'Some Bloke's' YouTube video you'll get my point. Nevertheless, it's a fascinating site so watch to the end. I know I did, a couple of times. Nice bouzouki accompaniment.

The Acropolis of Lindos contains ruins, partially reconstructed, of a number of classical temples and civic buildings, and the medieval fortress of the crusades-era Knights of St. John, who'd conquered Rhodes. The superb vantage point was later taken over by the Ottoman conquerors of the area. I missed them all - but not so much.

I watched a number of our group members head out for the climb without too much regret as another delightful white-washed Greek island town beckoned just off the square. No important buildings here, no captions, nothing to look up. I'll just post these here and sit back and enjoy them with you.

I began my ascent of the village lanes to leave the tourist shops behind and to look for vantage points over the acropolis and the sea.

I quickly found much to love. The patterned pebble-mosaic floors of some of the shops and courtyards reminded me of those I saw in Mostar last year. 

Then I  became intrigued with the stone doorways of many of the whitewashed houses. Some of them were carved with intricate patterns. Were the stone doorways the remnants of former stone houses, the doorcase kept in original state after the walls received their coat of whitewash? Or were they architectural salvage, repurposed from an earlier civic or religious building? 

And were the homes - either white or original stone - maintained by municipal rules, like those in Mykonos, for instance, to preserve an attractive traditional look?

I learned that Lindos has been a magnet for jet-setters since the 1950s (don't take my word for it) so perhaps this pleasing palette of perfect blue sea white buildings in the sun evolved during that long-ago time?

Ah no, I read of 'interventions' in the 1980s and 90s. Interventions?

As I googled about I came up with some facts. This link was fascinating. I did read that traditional Lindian dwellings, known as kamarika had walls up to two feet thick, composed of straw, sand and lime, ideal protection from the intense sun of summer. And no, they weren't all white with limewash; many retained their earthy ochre coloured walls.

Whitewash seems to be a relatively modern development.

Details about the fascinating doorcases began to emerge. Shipping flourished in the 16th century and the now-famous sea-captain's houses began to appear. Their design combined traditional styles and features of the nobles houses of Rhodes.

This link to the article states there are some thirty of these still today, most owned by Europeans. The link contains some delightful photos, also.

More facts about Lindos' history, in case either of us wants to read more, is available on this site. The Roman era, the Byzantine empire, the time of the Knights of Rhodes and Malta and the Ottoman conquest all feature.These realizations suggest the best way to appreciate Lindos is perched on a warm stone wall overlooking the sea, and wandering its serpentine lanes. Which I did then, and am doing again just now in these photos.

I was adrift in a heaven of high stone walls, dramatic gateways and  pebble-mosaic floors, and the carved doorways of these captain's houses, some with a room above the door, the better to see the the sea. The carvings on the doorways, standouts against the white walls (according to my sources) feature "Byzantine, medieval and Ottoman elements." I could have stood and studied for days.

But my watch told me it was time to begin my meander back to the meeting-point in the square (these times always made exciting by the realization that one is lost.) My arrival in the shopping streets was a relief, as I then knew where I was. I reconnected with my travel friend Jo (some euros were harmed in the making of this photograph) and we proceeded to encounter yet one more charming feature of old Lindos. 

The patient donkeys, long the only goods transport in this pedestrian-only town, have been co-opted as tourist attractions, and sometimes put into service carrying the footsore traveller. But we prevailed.

We arrived on time at the central square, where our somewhat anxious tour manager Pablo was counting returnees and shooing them onto the dedicated shuttle, to travel back across the island, to the docks, to the tenders, to the ship. And this lovely day was packed under memories of the many other destinations that followed. Thanks to my photos, and this blog, I have just spent this rainy February morning back in Lindos. What could only be nicer might be anticipating a week's stay, booked in a little white house above the harbour, overlooking the acropolis. Sigh.