The amazing thing about Rome is that in every corner there’s a famous church, a sculpture by Michelangelo, a painting by Caravaggio or something else from one of the thousand art history slides I’ve studied at Williams. On top of that is the somewhat shocking fact that I live here now. I can walk by the Pantheon at 2:00 am and see it in a state of calm, resting from the throngs of travelers that penetrate its doors every day. The word “travel” implies the need to eventually return home and, as one of the world’s biggest tourist stops has become my home, I see things a bit differently now.
Thousands of sneaker-wearing tourists flood the city every day. Everyone has a camera, iPhone, or iPad (yes, iPad) glued to their hand, spending the majority of their Trevi or St. Peter’s visit snapping pictures or videotaping panoramas and then getting out of there. A new world and its beautiful sights are frantically absorbed through the lens of a camera.
Of course, I was guilty of the same thing and calmed down only after the initial rush of living here subsided to a constant pleasure and appreciation for the city. But anytime I go somewhere new in my travels, I still find myself subconsciously looking for the best view that can fit in a 4×6 box.
Perhaps part of the reason we do this, at least for travelers my age, is that every picture is taken with Instagram or Facebook in mind. Informational pamphlets are thrown aside, aggression flares up when someone gets in the way of a photo and I often wonder if those scantily-clad girls even know what they’re standing in front of.
In our age of status updates, instant uploads, tweets and “checking in”, it seems as though exploring has developed a dual-purpose. Our lives are dictated by the need to prove that we have been somewhere and done something, when oftentimes we haven’t truly experienced it.
Having a great picture can solidify a memory (I mean, come on, I’m an Insta-ho and all over Facebook), but by looking at something more with my own eyes, perhaps I’ll have something to say about it, questions to think about or a personal experience that becomes special simply because it can’t be shared.