Calatrava's swimming pool: viewed from Rome's mountains

This post is about a swimming pool.  It's in the photo above, but you were probably looking at the Alban hills, or the moon, or the city at dusk.

Rome is circled by mountains on 3 sides: to the southwest, the Colli Albani--the Alban Hills--beckon with a set of charming small towns, including Frascati and Rocca di Papa, sitting below the highest mountain in the chain, Monte Cavo.  To the north and east, Tivoli provides  access to the higher mountains in the Monti Lucretili, a group that includes Monte Sterparo and, beyond it to the west, the highest of Rome's nearby mountains, Monte Gennaro. Then, much closer to the city--indeed, right in it--there's a low chain of mountains (hills, really) that includes Monte Mario (about 400 feet vertical from the river), with its close-up views of the Vatican and one of Rome's great bars, for its view: Lo Zodiaco.  And to the south of Monte Mario, and in the same chain, the Gianicolo.

We've been all over these mountains--walked every trail and been to every peak in the Colli Albani, done most of the major mountains in the Lucretili range, and walked the length of the Monte Mario complex more than once. Each hike has its pleasures (and, we should add, its irritations).

One of the minor pleasures is catching a glimpse, from any of the summits and many of the trails, of one of the outstanding architectural features of Rome's periphery: a swimming pool.

But not just any swimming pool.  To be seen from a distance, of course, the pool has to be a big one, and this one is.  Up close it's a soaring, curving, triangular hulk of a building, set in the far suburbs to Rome's east, near Tor Vergata, the newest of Rome's universities.  It was designed by starchitect Santiago Calatrava for the 2009 World Swimming Championships, and construction began in 2007.  But before it could be completed, Rome's right-wing mayor, Gianni Alemanno, cancelled the project. Here's what it looked like a few years ago:

And here's how it looks as we journey around Rome's horn of hills and mountains, beginning with the Alban Hills and moving counterclockwise.  In the photo below, Monte Cavo is to the left--with antennas--and the pool can be seen on the right, just above a dark set of lower hills.  The photo was taken from a mountain to the north and east of Monte Cavo.

Frascati is only a few miles from Monte Cavo, and set lower in the Colli Albani.  Here's the pool from Frascati.  Surprisingly close:

Tivoli is on the edge of another range, the Monte Lucretili, further north.  Here's what the pool looks like from the hills above Tivoli (about 600 vertical feet from the town).  Charming Tivoli is in the foreground, the white triangle of the pool about 1/4 from the right edge and near the horizon.

Below, the cross on Monte Sterpara--about a two hour hike from Tivoli, which is out of the photo to the left.  The pool, near the horizon, is to the left.

Monte Gennaro is the tallest mountain in the Lucretili range, with a hike up of from 2,000 to 3500 feet, depending on where you start.  Because Gennaro is high and further away, the pool gets smaller.  Below, we've cropped and modified the photo to make the pool more visible (if barely, at far upper left).  Don't complain.  In the foreground is the concrete platform atop the mountain.

Now, as we move back into the city to its west, the pool gets closer and, thankfully, more visible--though not much.  Below, photographed from the path up Mont Mario (near the Foro Italico), the pool is at left, against a backdrop of the Colli Albani:

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We've raved before about the views from the top of Monte Mario, at the Lo Zodiaco bar.  Here's proof.  That's Rome, the Colli Albani, and the Calatrava pool, at dusk:

You don't have to climb even Monte Mario to see the pool.  The photo below is from the terrace of the American Academy in Rome, during its yearly open house showcasing the work of its fellows.  Put that June event on your calendar--if only to see the Calatrava pool.

Bill

Santiago Calatrava's Unfinished Swimming Pool at Tor Vergata

Walking to the pool

Late in our last visit to Rome, we ventured east of the city on public transportation to have a look at Rome's newest university, Tor Vergata, and to finally see a building we had heard much about: Santiago Calatrava's Palanuoto (swimming pool), located, we knew, somewhere near the university.   Our tour of the university was satisfying (more on that in an earlier post), but the pool evaded our grasp. 

Dianne in the olive trees

A long, hot walk over a barren plain (right above), and through an abandoned tract of olive trees (being harvested by squatters), brought us no closer than a half mile, we estimated.  That's Dianne in the grove, with our goal in the distance. 

We surrendered and returned two days later, this time on the scooter.  Even that proved problematic, as we carved turn after turn on new roads leading nowhere, mostly frequented by bicyclists in tandem, enjoying the emptiness. 

Abandoned road

We parked on a traffic circle, climbed over a railing and through an opening in a perimeter fence and up a road abandoned to geckos and weeds.

Calatrava's swimming pool, through the weeds

Moving along a second fence, we found no opening and gave up on our plan of getting within touching distance of the structure.  We took several photos; they all resemble the one on the left, shot from a low angle to emphasize the tumbleweed look.    

Calatrava's idea of how the Sports City would look

We assumed then that the pool was under construction.  No no.  Here's the story:  What we charmingly referred to as Calatrava's "pool" was, in fact, one of two fan-shaped pavilions that together were to comprise a "Sports City," intended for general sports use but especially designed for the 2009 World Swimming Championships in Rome.  Calatrava's conception, taken from his web site, is at right.

The tower, designed to house the Rector of the new
university.  Appropriately grandiose. 
Looks like a new EUR. 

The Sports City was to be located at one end of a massive promenade, modeled after the ancient Circus Maximus, with the university's Rectorate (meaning the building housing the rector, the university's president) at the other end.  The new university's buildings were to be distributed along this promenade. 

Ground was broken for the Tor Vergata campus (named after the alternating red and grey bricks of a "striped tower" sold in 1361 as part of the Annibaldi estate) in March, 2007.  But rising costs for Sports City led the right-wing Mayor, Gianni Alemanno, to halt the pool project.  The 2009 swimming competition was moved to the Foro Italico complex (on the Tevere, across from the Flaminio district) and to other hastily constructed pools, some of them carved out of tennis courts. 

Calatrava's Sports City was also linked to Rome's bid for the 2020 summer Olympic games.  Most of the other venues already existed.  But the world financial crisis intervened, and in late 2011 or 2012 the new premier, economic technician Mario Monti, ended Rome's Olympic bid by refusing it state support, despite an offer of 380 million Euros (of about 500 million needed) from a private Swiss group for Sports City, in exchange for 25 years of ownership of the structure. 

In July 2011, a report in La Repubblica remarked on the surrounding "moonscape" and characterized the site as one "dove non si vede l'ombra di un operaio" (where one doesn't see even the shadow of a worker).  By mid-February of the following year, the same newspaper referred to what there was of Calatrava's Sports City as "a cathedral in the desert," an "emblem of defeat," a "vero e proprio capolavoro senza futuro" (a veritable masterpiece without a future). 

When the Olympic bid was abandoned, Mayor Alemanno, who had earlier blocked the Calatrava project, was now upset.  He argued that the games would have helped expand the region's tourist potential by developing areas around Ostia, on the sea.  La Repubblica's Robert Mania, perhaps thinking of Mussolini's ambitious plans to extend the city to the Mediterranean--and beyond--wrote, "Ma questa idea di Roma che si estende verso il mare non avevamo gia sentita?"  (This idea of Rome extending itself toward the sea--haven't we already heard of this?).  Another overreach, another failed Italian--and perhaps imperial--dream.
Bill

The University at Tor Vergata: A Brief Tour

The latest addition to the club of Rome universities is Tor Vergata, named after the alternating red and grey bricks of a striped 14th-century tower.  It is a long way from the Centro, out there to the east with all those other "Tors": Tor Sapienza, Tor Bella Monaca, Torre Maura, Tor Borgata.  I would add Tor Pignattara, except that this community, long considered to be inhumanely removed (in more ways than one) from central Rome, seems in comparison to Tor Vergata very close in, indeed. 

Our first thought on considering how to out there was to take the Via Casilina trolley/train.  This was a mistake--the university is located three stops beyond the GRA--though in retrospect, in the absence of a scooter or car we would consider the Metro and a bus transfer--that, in reverse, is how we got home.  The trolley stopped frequently, and the ride, through an uglier part of outlying Rome, took well over an hour.  Even then, we weren't "there."  From the local natives we determined that the school was to the west, which it was; about a mile, in the mid-day sun.

At last we found the entrance to the campus--somewhat understated, we thought--down a dirt hill and through a parking lot. 





Things improved after that.  We found the academic core: a set of reasonably attractive  buildings in the style of contemporary modernism.  A trifle sterile, perhaps.  Alfredo Lambertucci and Tommaso Valle, architects. 




In one of the buildings, students studied at tables in a hallway.  Tor Vergata offers 113 courses of study through six "faculties": economics, law, engineering, letters, medicine, and science.  In the 2010/11 school year, the school claimed 43,000 students and 1,538 faculty. 

We came across a new, and on this day, almost empty, classroom.  Students were scarce elsewhere.  Perhaps the school year was not yet in full swing; it was early October. 




Outside, a small group was celebrating a graduation or some other achievement; the object of that celebration (center) was wearing a laurel wreath (appropriately, the Italian word for graduated is laureata). 




The Economics Department was preparing to host a leadership event, using English and a Warhol-style soup can, with Campus standing in for Campbell's. 

Away from the core, where, in the U.S., one might have expected green fields with athletes perfecting their skills, was a vast plain of dust and scrub, bisected here and there by streets too broad for the few vehicles using them.  A sign for "Scavi"--excavations--suggested that efforts to build on this ground had been halted when ruins or artifacts were discovered.  We wondered if Sergio Leone had thought about filming his spaghetti westerns out here. 

To the far west--at least a mile from the core, and hidden from it, the husk of Calatrava's unfinished--and unlike to remain unfinished--swimming pool.  It was to be a key venue for the World Swimming Championships (held in 2009). 

And to the south, framing the Alban Hills in the distance, a curious double arch, reminiscent of what Mussolini's planners had in mind for E42--the 1942 exposition intended to commemorate the founding event of Fascism, the 1922 March on Rome.  Italian Fascism never dies; it just reappears in weird places.  And, to the arch's left, visible two photos above, a huge cross. 

Nearby, in the midst of the desolation, we found a lovely church, recently constructed (2002, Vittorio De Feo) but with a judicious and appealing postmodern look.  According to one architectural guide, the building combines the geometric qualities of Russian constructivism, Bernini's facility with light, and the atemporalism of 1930s modernism.


It was open, and we had a look around. 





To be honest, we doubt we've done justice to the campus at Tor Vergata.  Yes, parts of it reminded us of Zabriski Point.  But Tor Vergata is reputed to have thousands of students, and we observed only dozens.  It would look different packed with young bodies. 

But maybe not different enough. 
Bill
On the celebrity modern architect working in Rome see an earlier post on 5 of Rome's "Starchitects".

Parking a Scooter? Try a Space for the Handicapped

Scooter parking for the handicapped?  Probably not.  The series of symbols on the sign--above: no parking, below: parking/handicapped--likely were designed to suggest that the small space to the left of the yellow line was to remain empty to allow sufficient space for the handicapped driver of an automobile.  The photo was taken at Tor Vergata, a new campus of the University of Rome, far from the centro, where parking appeared to be ample by Roman standards.  Apparently the driver of this scooter couldn't resist.  Bill