Tuesday, February 16, 2010

Multicultural Reading Notes

Multi-cultural readings

The Egyptian Lover

I don’t quite know what the true meaning to this tall tale might be. It began from the perspective of a young Cleopatra from Egypt but quickly changed to the man she was meeting in Italy. He told of his life with Cleopatra and the struggles he had with his wife. Wanting to leave her but not wanting to really be without her. An accidental mix-up of love letters caused his to lose both women. So what is the moral of the story then? He mentions one quote that seems to tie each characters struggles together though, “what life do we lead, and above all, what life do we learn.” This man made many mistakes over and over yet never learned from them. Both of the women seemed to know of these problems with his fidelity yet allowed it to happen over and over again. Therefore I believe that the idea that the author is trying to get across is that we must learn from the life we lead as to live a better one. Or in other words we can have a wonderful, full and beautiful life but we must learn from our mistakes in order to live it.

Home…Sickness

I loved this story. It seems to relate so much to one of our older writing assignments. It talks about feeling so far from home, missing all the simple luxuries that we take for granted and barely realize we have. But it also discusses the opposing argument, what it is like to return home and miss all the small pleasures that we learned and gained while in our ‘new’ home. In the end the author talks about the feelings you get when you finally return home and you aren’t the same, the things your thought you missed you don’t care about and you begin to noticed what your missing there. This characters entire perspective changed from Africa to Italy and back. I imagine that this is the same sensation that we will experience, the same feelings of happiness and lose when we return home. I think everyone should read this story because I honestly LOVED it.

Independent Project Outline

Natalia Valle

Independent Research Project

I am planning to explore the life of immigrants through Italian eyes. I want to know how an Irish immigrant feels stereotyped by Italians or if he doesn’t feel any stereotypes. I want to know if a Romania immigrant feels forced to work at the market because of his background or if that seems to be his only option. I would like to research if certain immigrant nations are looked down upon more then others. Lastly, I would like to see if language, skin color, accent etc plans a part in these stereotypes and which one is judged more. These are all things that I plan to look deep into through people I find and meet within the Esquilino Market.

Outline:

  • Interview Sean (Irish immigrant bartender) works in the Campo, fluent in English and Italian.
  • Interview a market vendor (Find out nation, how they feel integrated/stereotyped and what their impression of Italians are).
  • Interview a native Italian (Find out impression of immigration in Italy and/or immigrants in general vs English speaking immigrants).

Tuesday, February 9, 2010

Assignment #5: Venice, Florence and Back Home a remix

Home: 1. the place in which one's domestic affections are centered.
2. any place of residence or refuge: a heavenly home.

Home. When I think of home I think of my mom, I think of curling up in her bed on sundays when my dad makes us the most delicious eggs and we sit for hours watching our DVR shows together. That to me is the most basic sense of home. My grandmother bringing Havana over to accompany Chico, giving everyone in sight warm hugs and kisses all over our faces. My brother head locking me and laughing hysterically as my little sister tries to pry him off of me. This is home, my home, no one else's impression or description would be the same.

Since coming to Rome my description of home is different. I look toward my home here for inspiration, I think of the Campo market, the vendors, the one Euro case of eggs and my pocka-dot sheets. I think of opening the door/windows and letting the cool air in and allowing the warm sun to fall across my face as I lye in bed. I think of long walks in the cold and cappuccini that warm me to my bones. This is my current home and this is what makes me feel comfortable, feel safe, feel at ease. It's funny how you don't understand the importance of these things until your away from them. You can't describe the things that you consider home in Rome until your AWAY from Rome.

Florence was incredible, but florence was far and cold. Far meaning far from home, from Rome. Cold because its northern and cold because you don't know anything. You don't know what street your on when your late for class or which left it was to the vendor that gave you the great deal on scarves. Its new and new can be great but new gets old. It gets old fast and you can't decide whether you want more new or if you want home. I wanted home.

My mom always tells me I'm the home-body in the family. Wow, was she right. I would much rather sit cozy on a coach with a book or some online TV then go out and explore. But I'm trying, I'm trying to get the most out of this trip without killing myself over it.

When we were in florence things were so different from Rome. The people were much more excited about Americans. But maybe excited is the wrong word, maybe understanding of American's in better. With so may English speakers and even more American universities it makes sense that they are used to "our kind." The vendors at the street shops were pushy, much more then the Roman vendors, they even got mad a few times when I looked at something but decided against it. It was sometimes even uncomfortable to glance at something to long as you walked past it.

After a few days of easing (as much as thats possible) into Florence, we made a quick day trip to Prato. Prato is a darker city, smaller, and a bit sad. It was a gloomy day out, granted, but I found the area sad. Everything was dark, no street lamps, no beautifully paved streets, a lot of larger, unexciting buildings and fewer people. The shopping was good if you had some money to spend, which of course I didn't after my amazing leather jacket purchase. But the moment we stepped off the train the atmosphere around me changed. The feelings I had in Florence melted away as Prato took over me. It was an immediate difference and immediate change.

Skipping forward a bit I find myself on a weekend trip to Venice. Oh, Venice the city that is sinking and the city that screams romance and beauty. But it was wet and raining and it was a familiar seaside town, and it was an older version of Seattle. How I seemed to forget what rain for hours felt like. It rained and it rained, the wind blew in my face until I was perminently shivering down to my bones. But this feeling, unlike in Florence was at least familiar. I could remember how to react to a bus riding by about to hit a puddle or what to wear in a what can only be described as hurricane rains. I was finally, since December, in familiar circumstances.

So while Venice may have been more of home it still wasn't Seattle and it wasn't Rome. It was an hour on a plane, 30 on a bus, and 40 on a boat until we were even within in a 15 walk of the hotel. A restaurant was always a boat trip away and Saint Marc's was separated by bridges and alleys from every direction. It was the most confusing city I had ever seen. It had cobble stone roads that were covered in green algae from years of being covered in water, the stairs to the stream would be covered to nearly street level within and hour and half of raining. It wasn't home and even though for a brief moment it may have been confused for such, it simply wasn't in the end. I loved Venice, even more then Florence but home had become Rome since arriving here in January.

It was odd that when I was in Rome all I wanted was to escape to Florence. Then when in Florence, all I wanted was to return home to Rome. Prato was an even more extreme feeling. I not only was desperate to return to Florence but I was mentally exhausted from everything outside of Rome. Venice, while it was in the race, slowly faded out into a wet abyss. My home had shifted. I NEEDED Rome. I even cancelled my trip to Cinque Terre in order to return to Rome sooner.

After a long 3 and half days and a few delays I arrived on the train headed to Rome. It was around 4:45 and I was excited for my return and my mind was jumping from plan to plan for the rest of night. With a bit of confusion we realized that our train was certainly not an express. It would be a four hour trip with frequent stops in between Florence and Rome. I pushed away my sadness and realized it didn't matter because I was going home and I was with, what I could imagine to be, the perfect traveling companions. Here we go.

After some games of Moxie, reading of the The Time Travelers Wife, some iphone games in which Marisa plastered lips and goggly-eyes on my photo, I was a bit anxious to arrive. I wanted my stiff bed and my 39 cent pasta. I was sweating a little, the train was a little bit to warm and everyone was getting tired of traveling. We heard the word Roma sing over the intercom and all of our faces turned red with happiness. We were here, we were home. I could take a hot shower for as long as I felt like!

We were wrong though. We jumped off as soon as the train pulled to a halt. Our luggage was already in our hands and jackets zipped up. We began to walk to our right as soon as our feet hit the pavement. Within the next 30 seconds the train pulled away and my mind felt lost. Where were the bright lights of Termini? Where were the people running to catch trains, the McDonald's that served breakfast?

It was the wrong stop, we had jumped off one stop to early. No. No. No. It couldn't be. I was tired and all I wanted was to go home. Julie with her soothing motherly voice calmed everyone done. She smiled sweetly and just as any mother would do took care of us. She got us home. We took a metro to Termini and then a car from Termini to the house. Thank God she was there because Mick would have had to deal wth my tears and stress and he already knows by now that that is normally unavoidable.

After the long trek with our bags up the many flights of stairs, I was home. It smelled of dust and stale air, but I didn't care at all. I opened some windows and sat on the couch with nothing unpacked, listening to the guitar player in the Campo playing his familiar song. Here I was finally and all I wanted to do was close my eyes and sit here, not even move an inch. I wanted to relish this smell, this feeling, this utter relaxation. I was in Rome and until I left I didn't know how important it was to me. I didn't know that Florence was great until Prato was lonely. I am now in my bed writing about Rome, I am warm under my covers and I am full of pasta in my belly, I am happy.

I miss my real home a bit though. I guess now that I am back in my current home I miss my old home. But I know that I am only weeks away from my moms bed and DVR with my dads eggs. I can probably do without the headlock but I don't think I want to do without it. Funny how that works.

Monday, February 1, 2010

Assignment #4: Home Away From Home

Home : 1. the place in which one's domestic affections are centered.
2. any place of residence or refuge: a heavenly home.

Home. When I think of home I think of my mom, I think of curling up in her bed on sundays when my dad makes us the most delicious eggs and we sit for hours watching our DVR shows together. That to me is the most basic sense on home. My grandmother bringing Havana over to accompany Chico, giving everyone in sight warm hugs and kisses all over our faces. My brother head locking me and laughing hysterically and my little sister trying to pry him off of me. This is home, my home, no one else's impression or description would be the same.

Since coming to Rome my description of home is different. I look toward my home here for inspiration, I think of the Campo market, the vendors, the one Euro case of eggs and my pocka-dot sheets. I think of opening the door/windows and letting the cool air in and allow the warm sun to fall across my face as I lye in bed. I think of long walks in the cold and cappuccinos that warm me to my bones. This is my current home and this is what makes me feel comfortable, feel safe, feel at ease. It funny how you don't understand the importance of these things until your away from them. You can't describe the things that you consider home in Rome until your AWAY from Rome.

Florence was incredible, but florence was far and cold. Far meaning far from home, from Rome. Cold because its northern and cold because you don't know anything. You don't know what street your on when your late for class or which left it was to the vendor that gave you the great deal on scarfs. Its new and new can be great but new gets old. It gets old fast and you can't decide whether you want more new or if you want home. I wanted home.

My mom always tells me I'm the home-body in the family. Wow, was she right. I would much rather sit cozy on a coach with a book or some online TV then go out and explore. But I'm trying, I'm trying to get the most out of this trip without killing myself over it.

When we were in florence things were so different from Rome. The people were much more excited about Americans. But maybe excited is the wrong word, maybe understanding of American's in better. With so may English speakers and even more American universities it makes sense that they are used to "our kind." The vendors at the street shops were pushy, much more then the Roman vendors, they even got mad a few times when I looked at something but decided against it. It was sometimes even uncomfortable to look at something to long as you walked past it.

After a few days of easing (as much as thats possible) into Florence, we made a quick day trip to Prato. Prata is a darker city, smaller, and a bit sad. It was a bit of gloomy day out, granted, but I found the area sad. Everything was dark, no street lamps no beautifully paved streets, a lot of larger, unexciting buildings and fewer people. The shopping was good if you had some money to spend, which of course I didn't after my amazing leather jacket purchase. But the moment we stepped off the train the atmosphere around me changed. The feelings I had in Florence melted away as Prato took of me. It was an immediate difference, and immediate change.

It was odd that when I was in Rome all I wanted was to escape to Florence. Then when in Florence, all I wanted was to return home to Rome. Prato was an even more extreme feeling. I not only was desperate to return to Florence but I was mentally exhausted from everything outside of Rome. My home had shifted. I NEEDED Rome. I even cancelled my trip to Cinque Terre in order to return to Rome sooner.

After a long 3 and half days and a few delays I arrived on the train headed to Rome. It was around 4:45 and I was excited for my return and my mind was jumping from plan to plan for the rest of night. With a bit of confusion we realized that our train was certainly not an express. It would be a four hour trip with frequent stops in between Florence and Rome. I pushed away my sadness and realized it didn't matter because I was going home and I was with, what I could imagine to be, the perfect traveling companions. Here we go.

After some games of Moxie, reading of the The Time Travelers Wife, some iphone games in which Marisa plastered lips and goggly-eyes on my photo, I was a bit anxious to arrive. I wanted my stiff bed and my 39 cent pasta. I was sweating a little, the train was a little bit to warm and everyone was getting a bit tired of traveling. We heard the word Roma sing over the intercom and all f our faces turned white from happiness. We were here, we were home. I could take a hot shower for as long as I felt like!

We were wrong though. We jumped off as soon as the train pulled to a halt. Our luggage was already in our hands and jackets zipped up. We began to walk to our right as soon as our feet hit the pavement. Within the next 30 seconds the train pulled away and my mind felt lost. Where were the bright lights of Termini? Where were the people running to catch trains, the McDonald's that served breakfast?

It was the wrong stop, we had jumped off one stop to early. No. No. No. It couldn't be. I was tired and all I wanted was to go home. Julie with her soothing motherly voice calmed everyone done. She smiled sweetly and just as any mother would do took care of us. She got us home. We took a metro to Termini and then a car from Termini to the House. Thank God she was there because Mick would have had to deal wth my tears and stress and he already knows by now that that is normally unavoidable.

After the long trek with our bags up the many flights of stairs, I was home. It smelled of dust and stale air, but I didn't care at all. I opened some windows and sat on the couch with nothing unpacked, listening to the guitar player in the Campo playing his familiar song. Here I was finally and all I wanted to do was close my eyes and sit here, not move even an inch. I wanted to relish this smell, this feeling, this utter relaxation. I was in Rome and until I left I didn't know how important it was to me. I didn't know the Florence was great until Prato was lonely. I am now in my bed writing about Rome, I am warm under my covers and I am full of pasta in my belly, I am happy.

I miss my real home a bit though. I guess now that I am back in my current home I miss my old home. But I know that I am only weeks away from my moms bed and DVR with my dads eggs. I can probably do without the headlock but I don't think I want to do without it. Funny how that works.

Monday, January 25, 2010

Assignment #3: Marketplace

Borderland: "an uncertain, intermediate district, space, or condition." According to Dictionary.com.

An intermediate? As in something that is not meant to remain, something temporary. The Market is a borderland filled with immigrants, visitors, families...people. It is a moment in time when a man from India can sell his beans and seeds next to a man from Nigera selling soaps and hair products. The market is a place were fish are as available as apples and foreign fruits lie next to bottles of beer. This was the marketplace that I visited.

After I was done looking things over in this massive building my limbs were cold and the sun was out so I decided a walk wouldn't hurt. I had about 20 minutes left to explore, and thats exactly what I did. I walked in and out of weaving streets searching for areas that would allow the sun to warm me the most. I practiced my minimal Italian at a bakery selling the most delicious smelling doughnuts. She was an immigrant, her Italian sounded unfamiliar and she rolled certain letters quickly off her tongue. She smiled warmly, but was quite. I think we both felt odd not understanding one another. I went into an Asian food store as well. This was a completely different feeling. Not only could I not read a single package but I became completely relient on pictures. There were soft noodles and veggies, then it must be vegetable flavored broth with noodles...right?

When I walked out of the store and continued to follow the fall of the sun on the sidewalk I found an area almost exclusively middle eastern. Everyone smiled and stared blankly at me as I walked past them. It was not only immigrants among immigrants, it was now people versus people, insiders versus outsiders, visitors versus locals, I felt uneasy. I don't think it was who they were or what they looked like but merely that I was surrounded by a culture and a language I knew nothing about. They would speak to me and I was stare back and grin a bit, did they think I was rude?

The marketplace was the most comfortable place I was that day. Everyone was aware of their differences and didn't seem to care at all. Even there I am the outsider though. I am the one who isn't a part of the action and can only stand there, point and smile. The only moment I was in understanding with a local was when we followed me repeating "I love you to much americana." Was I that obvious? Am I that American? Even with my thick black hair and darkened skin, am I that different looking from the Italian women?

It is similar to the story we read in our multicultural short story book. She was a part of the masses in India, a part of her wanted to be among them and the other part of her wanted to create a massive separation between the two. I know now what she was feeling. I want people to see me here and think I am one of them, to give me the local prices to think I speak their beautiful language, yet there is a piece of me that misses home which wants to be the American that they see fully, and be proud. The light beer and peanuts girl was right, you can want to be two things at once, but I also think that you always want one more then other.

If I had to choose, to be a member of the market as my own type of immigrant, I would choose to be an American one. I love my home, my family, my culture and my country. But for a few moments every once in a while it feel good to immerse yourself so much so that you begin to feels like you are a part of it, until you don't again.

Friday, January 22, 2010

Journal Entry

I didn't completely understand the hourglass assignment, it was a tiny bit confusing but I am going to make my attempt anyway. This week have visited both the Jewish Synogogue as well as read about the Catholic religion. Both of these have some contradictions in their foundations but beyond religious politics the one contradiction that stands out to me, is the difference in their public perception over the years. How many instances in history can we account for Jewish prosecution? To many. And yet here in the Rome we are faced with a place were Catholicism was brought to be the religion of the state, and no one really thought twice about it. It was slowly accepted without to many issues involved. In this same city we see the Jewish religion pigeonholed into a 5 block radius and forced into work they didn't deserve and lives that they couldn't change. How is this fair? Granted, we can all look back now and admit that but why the Jews? And why not Catholics? Why is it that Catholicism has never had to be explained or had to struggle to gain approval, it was merely chosen and accepted, but why not for the Jews?

As a Christian myself, I know the struggles that each religion has gone through in order to get their freedom from prosecution. And i would never claim that the Catholic religion has not gone through its far share of issues. But it is hard to so often see and be faced with the pains of the Jewish people and that it has been the result of not only a Facist government but of a government that claimed to be Catholic. I do not blame catholics and I do not blame people that practice it, but I do blame the officials of the time who claimed to be religious and simply contradicted those statements with brutal actions.

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

Roman Baths: The Cornerstone of a Luxurious Culture


“I leave; I get myself some towels and follow my servant. I run and catch up with the others who are going to the baths and I say to them one and all, ‘How are you? Have a good bath! Have a good supper!’” (Yegul, 30). This was the common thought in regards to to attending the baths, they were a piece of each Roman’s daily routine. The baths were decedent and often enriched with mosaics and statutes throughout the bathing sanctums and the gardens. Both young and old, men and women (in later years), and all people of all religions used the baths for their own purposes.

It was said that there were “so many baths that you would be at a loss to know where to bathe,” (41). At the peak of the Rome empire it was said that Rome had over 900 public baths. Thermae’s were expansive in scale, used by all who could pay or chose to come, opulent and had incredibly detailed décor. Very skilled workers were required to create these structures and mosaics. The balnae’s were less common and usually private owned by wealthy elite, some of the wealthy even had balnaes in their homes.

According to Yegul, “among the most effective punishments that could be imposed by the government on a community was the closing down of its baths for a period of time,”(30). This was because the baths, as mentioned before, were much more then bathing centers. They had garden, libraries, gyms, lecture halls and even shopping. These grand buildings were essential parts to the city of Rome at this time.

Ostia Baths

“Ostia was founded by the fourth king of Rome, Ancus Marcius, who was thought to have ruled in the late seventh century about 620 BC.” Ostia’s prime location near the mouth of the Tiber River served as a pivotal point for a number of reasons. Initially, the cityserved as an industrial harbor because of its proximity to Rome and its “up to date” ports that transported goods both in to and out of Rome. Because Ostia was essentially the “mediator” between Rome and a number of foreign nations, the Roman government quickly realized that it was a key port for not only protecting Rome’s imports and exports, but for protecting the city and it’s citizens.

Over time the popularity of Rome as a city center of the world lead to a much larger population in Ostia as well. The city began to mold itself into a commercial site for Romans. The number of baths in a city was usually an indication for the cities wealth, and at its peak Ostia had enough baths to cater to nearly 70,000 people. The city was used because of it’s prime location along the water to import Egyptian grains and other foreign imports. It was until Hadrian’s reign that Ostia saw its peck. During this time the city grew very prosperous and merchants began to build their villas in this seaside town.

As Rome continued to grow the city founded its new port town, Portus. Portus had a better location and much more space to import a larger amount of goods in a shorter period of time. Ostia also, being a very marshy area, began to become very malarial from the mosquitoes. The city was abandoned and like many old cities it was abandoned and emptied out.

Excavations of the area continue today and access to the city to view the remains of the Neptune baths, Forum baths, an amphitheatre, temples and many of the merchant stalls as well as personal homes.

The Neptune Baths

"The Baths of Neptune are well known for its incredibly detailed Antonine mosaics. This compound has a dimension of 67 x 67 meters and was excavated by Lanciani in 1888 and again by Vaglieri in 1909 and 1910. The complex replaced baths from the late first century A.D. and was financed by the Emperor Hadrian and Antonius Pius.”

It was named after the god of Neptune who was said to be close with the emperor. The baths of Neptune have mosaics, which feature mostly imaginary sea creatures, attributed to the reigns of Hadrian and of his successor Antoninus Pius. There is one even of a cupid child riding a dolphin; the sea surrounding this picture is otherwise shown as frightening and strong. This may have something to do with the impact that the sea and Tiber River had on the city of Ostia. The large square to the left of the mosaic would have been busy with people wrestling, stretching, doing jumping jacks, and getting massages from their slaves or masseuses. The niches around the square housed small businesses and merchant stalls.

Forum Baths

The Forum baths in Ostia are a perfect example of what a large thermae would look like. The rooms are preserved enough to see the original set-up and spacing of a bath. It was named for its proximity to the cities Forum and is a great example of why Roman engineers were experts at administering heat. A huge furnace heated both the water and air that flowed through pipes under the floors and into the walls in this bath. It is even evident I certain rooms of the bath house where there is a gap between the marble inside and the cement lining of the building were the hot would have risen to heat the rooms. This heating system is called hypocaust. These baths also included fine marble steps, which were perfect for lounging, conversation on the way toward the pools.

The octagonal room (for sunbathing) leads to the sudatoria (sweating room), then to tepidaria (where Romans were rubbed down by masseuses), and the once-steamy caldarium with three pools. “The frigidarium is conservative in its layout [compared to larger baths in Rome], with eight columns supporting a vaulted roof and cold plunges to north and south. However, the series of warm and hot rooms, which project boldly out from the lines of the old cestrum.” The sunbathing room is octagonal and presents four big windows to the afternoon sun, which, in the absence of heating pipes in the walls, suggests “that it was a heliocaminus or sun room of the type found at Hadrian's villa," (Frank Sear. Roman Architecture. 127).

The Bathing Routine

The term bathing routine is a bit of a contradiction because the Romans had no set routine when enjoying their baths. Any activity or room could be repeated, skipped or visited in a different order all depending on the desires of the bather.

The common day for a urban Roman began early with food and work until around two o’clock or the “8th hour” for men. Women on the other hand began their day with food and baths. The reason for this was mainly to avoid mixed bathing. While the men were working early in the day the women would be taking their baths and later in the evening men would attend to their baths and women would return home to prepare for guests. This would also be because in the mornings the baths would be just beginning to heat up, while by mid day when the men arrived the baths were at their optimal temperature.

The settings for most baths were very similar. There were smaller venues like the balnaes and larger, public thermaes. In even the simplest of baths you would encounter what is called the apodyterium, or changing room. Here people would often be accompanied by their slave(s) who would bring with them all the essentials for their time at the baths. This would usually consist of a change of clothing, oils, perfumes, sponge, towel and sandals, woodened with heels to protect the bottom of your feet from dirty water and over-heated floor and a strigil. A strigil is a metal rounded scrape, used to remove the dead skin from your body after it has been rubbed with oil and soaked in moisture.

While the baths were often thought to be a place of equaling among the classes, the number of slaves a person has present is usually what would separate the wealthy from the poor or middle class citizens. A person was able to rent slaves for their time at the baths or simply be served by the attendants, this is one of the only ways to separate one person from another.

The garments that bathers wore are still unknown. Unlike the founders of the public baths, Greeks, the Romans found it indecent to enjoy your bath in the nude. They often wore small clothes covering their lower halves much like a Scottish kilt, women were seen wearing something that is similar to a modern day tankini (Yegul, 35). Regardless of what social class you were in, most people wore the same attire to the baths.

Your time would begin with changing your cloths, which your slave would sometimes sit and watch to avoid common petty theft in the baths and also oil your skin before heading to the exercise portion of your activities.

The exercises that the Romans would partake in would not be what we, today, would consider rigorous by any means. The most rigorous activity the Romans would partake in would be boxing or wrestling but normally only until they broke a small sweat and then they would head to the bathing portion of their time (Yegul 36). Something that was thought as good exercise would be, “…reading aloud, walking, running, drilling and playing handball.” There would usually be a small to large courtyard where you would find people participating in these things and would hear the many noises of the baths, including the vendors selling and the yells of hair removal.

Many baths also had something called a natatio, a pool that was used for lounging, swimming and wading but not usually for serious lap swimming unless it was in one of the deeper pools. Yet the deeper pools were commonly used for Olympic training only. At the sound of the tintinnbulum bells, one would know, and often run towards the bath, as it was time to wash.

As mentioned previously, the order in which one would take a bath often differed depending on the bather, but the standard order started with some time in the Sudatoria. This room was used to encourage sweating and was kept at a relatively high temperature and very dry. Next one would continue to the Tepidarium, which was a bit smaller in size but the heat would increase as well as the moisture. The warmest room was the Caldarium, which was heated with hot baths, was wet and moist to wash the body. This is often were the scraping and washing of the skin occurred.

The furnace, which laid beneath the building, was slave ran with a large wood or coal-burning furnace. The smaller sized slaves, or young slaves, were the perfect bath heaters because their small frames would be able to fit into the confined space were the heating system was.

The frigidarium is the last place that bathers would enter. It was a cold pool that was used for a quick dive or splash to terminate the bath. To make sure that it was cooler then the other rooms it would often be the furthest room from the furnace, which was beneath the caldarium commonly.
In the tepidarium, caldarium, and lastly the frigidarium were, “ideal stages for traveling jugglers, gymnasts, conjurers, jesters, and musicians, “ (Yegul 39). They also offered food, and drinks including wine. They were often the perfect setting for vendors because large audiences used them at specific times in the day. Also many people believed that a “good bath called for a good dinner to make a perfect day.” (Yegul 39).

Baths and their Societal Impact

When baths were first introduced as a main part of urban society in the successful era of Rome they became an immediate success and a necessary part of the day. While previously it was common to bath only every week or so, when public baths came to fashion everything changed. It was something that all classes were fortunate to enjoy. Often times baths would cost as little as half a cent to use and others, the larger thermaes mainly, would even sometimes be free due to subsidizing by the government (Carcopino, 254). The wealthy or aspiring politicians could also pay to have the baths free for the day in honor of their name. This meant that along with the highest members of the Roman senate, commoners and certain slaves could even take part in the public baths.

Yegul discusses stories of emperors who would join his fellow public in the baths nearby. The emperor would then use this time to “appeal for public support and to increase popularity.” Because the baths were a community center at the time this would be like having a quick brunch with President Obama.

By creating these extravagant baths for the public, the emperor would be showing a great deal of generosity. The baths were very expensive to maintain. Besides the attendants and masseuses you also had to import all of the wood for the furnace from Tuscany. Water was also used in immense amounts, some baths were so large and so often used that they required their own aqueducts and the result was that more water per head was channeled into ancient Rome than is used in modern-day New York City.

While their masters would be leisurely enjoying a bath in the Forum or Neptune baths in Ostia, the slaves would be left to watch all of their belongs or used as attendants for the bathing process. Multiple bathhouses have found evidence in drawings that indicate slaves were able to use the facilities, it would have been a very rare occasion (Fagan, 200). The slaves that were caught while not guarding their master’s belongings would have been subject to punishments.

Another use of the baths, beyond cleaning and socializing was to better your health. Many doctors believed that the baths had a healing power on the body. With a short life expectancy in those times, many tried using the baths as a remedy for their illness. With this being said, there is no evidence toward separate baths for the sick. This caused for diseases to flow within the baths especially toward those who were careless with their sandals and their ending cleanse (Fagan, 85).

Unfortunately, baths were also known to attract some of the less pleasant aspects of society, such as prostitutes and acts of drunkenness and gluttony. Some people even went as far as having ‘love baths’ in which you could enjoy a “nicely cushioned couch and a lovely lady to love,” (Yegul, 42). This gave certain people a bad opinion of the baths, specifically when they saw their use as vain, over-consuming and used for reasons of lust or sobering from “indiscretion and indulgence” the previous nights (Yegul).

Thankfully for us, Ostia is still being excavated and with the help of more funds. Hopefully we will be to see more into the lives that Romans lived. So, while I do wish that we still had baths to enjoy today it might be something that is left in the past for our amusement. The baths tell us a lot about who the Romans were, how they lived to spend their days and also how interaction and communication were key parts to being a good citizen. Maybe we should take a note from their book.

Roman Baths, Book Bibliography

1. Balsdon, J.P.V.D. Roman Women, Their History and Habits. London: The Bodley Head Ltd, 1962. Print.

2. Carcopino, Jerome. Daily Life in Ancient Rome : The People and the City at the Height of the Empire. New Haven : Yale UP, 2003.

3. Conference, International. Roman baths and bathing proceedings of the first International Conference on Roman Baths held at Bath, England, 30 March-4 April 1992. Portsmouth, R.I: Journal of Roman Archaeology, 1999. Print.

4. Delaine, Janet. The Baths of Caracalla A Study in the Design, Construction, and Economics of Large-Scale Building Projects in Imperial Rome (Journal of Roman Archaeology Supplementary Series , No 25). Hettinger: Journal of Roman Archaeology, 1997. Print.

5. Fagan, Garrett G. Bathing in Public in the Roman World. New York: University of Michigan, 1999. Print.

6. Menen, Aubrey. Cities in the Sand. New York: Dial Press, 1973

7. Piranomonte, Marina. The Baths of Caracalla. Milan: Electa, 1998. Print.

8. Yegul, Fikret. Baths and Bathing in Classical Antiquity. New York: MIT Press, 1992.

Internet Bibliography

1. "Baths at Ostia - Ostia, Italy - Great Buildings Online." Architecture Design Architectural Images History Models and More - ArchitectureWeek Great Buildings. Web. 9 Jan. 2010.

2. "Ostia - Introduction." Ostia - Harbour City of Ancient Rome. Web. 6 Jan. 2010. .

3. "Ostia Antica: Baths of Neptune (Terme di Nettuno)." Italy: The Ancient Rome. Web. 6 Jan. 2010. .

4. "Roman Baths and Bathing (FalcoPhiles)." Marcus Didius Falco and Lindsey Davis Fan Site (FalcoPhiles). Web. 3 Jan. 2010. .