n class="drop">Ifirst experienced Rome in 1971 on my honeymoon, visiting my wife’s uncle, a priest who served for a decade at the Vatican, with the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith. What I remember most vividly is a Fellini-esque evening performance of Aidawith elephants in the Baths of Caracalla, followed by a hair-raising, inebriated drive home through Roman traffic. The city then was an electric blend of the sacred and profane: a cocktail of religious piety, garish energy, and opiate nostalgia; repellant and addictive at the same time. I loved it.Read Full Article »
