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Published: June 30th 2005
To live in Rome -- to revel in the age of its monuments, to marvel at what man’s hands can create, to reflect on how history has shaped and been shaped by its peoples, to passively participate in admiring the plunder and booty of an empire, and to breathe in and internalize the timeless appeal of a city that has dazzled onlookers for millenia -- this task could easily take up the time and dedication of an entire lifetime.
In fact, it is actually an Italian saying, “Roma - non basta una vita!” (Rome - one life is not enough!) And indeed, part of the city’s appeal is that it never ceases to amaze you. Even now, after already having lived here for 8 months, the most common sights to me -- the Pantheon, Piazza Navona by night, the angels guarding the passage over the Tevere to Castel Sant’Angelo, sunset over St. Peter’s, the Palatine hill, the Colosseum, and the view from Gianicolo - all continue to fill me with awe.
Though I was well aware that Rome was a beautiful city and surely convinced of my affection for the place, I was having my doubts about the decision
The Roman Forum
The Classic shot from behind the Campidoglioto return to live in Rome after my experience in Ireland. My lack of enthusiasm troubled me deeply, and the airport arrival only served to heighten my sense of alarm. Granted, we had survived an outstandingly long delay, prisoners of the plane for five hours on the tarmac before being allowed to shove off out of London, thus arriving at a very inconvenient 1 am in Rome Ciampino airport. So the aggregrate impatience and less than chipper attitudes of the crowd was quite understandable; what I couldn’t so easily reckon with, however, was the overwhelming selfishness of individuals. The last people to get off the plane was this elderly British couple, both of whom obviously had a great deal of difficulty walking. Thank heavens the Russian girl got up and nudged her male travel companion to give up his seat as well, or I would have truly lost it.
But could it actually be possible that the only one on that 70 person shuttle bus who stopped to help this couple when we got to the arrival lounge was me? I watched with dropped jaw as fit and able-bodied man after man rushed past this couple for whom each
"Gardening" in the city
Balcony in Piazza Cairoli step was both a challenge and a triumph. And after arriving to the top of the staircase they never thought they’d be able to climb, I promised them I would find them a wheelchair, which they had apparently been promised by the travel agency who arranged their package. However, arriving at that late hour, I was met with a series of gruff Italian customs officers, who all just held their hands up with an unspoken ‘it’s not my problem’ and said, “I don’t work for the airport,” curtly ignoring my requests to find out how I COULD get one for them. On top of it all, after assisting them in retrieving their suitcases, we headed over to get one of the luggage carts and I was, literally, almost knocked over by two guys who were sprinting there to grab the last two carts before anyone else could get them. So here we go, twenty-something female backpacker carrying large backpack in the rear, smaller one on the front, plus two people’s carry-on bags on her arms and pulling their suitcases one in each hand with this elderly couple struggling just to walk behind her, and do you think even then anyone
took 30 seconds out of their mad rush to see if they could help? Of course not. I truly wonder what happened to that couple, because the travel representative who met them was as helpful as the customs officials in trying to find them wheelchairs or assistance with their luggage.
I’m not writing all this to pat myself on the back or to try to prop myself up as an extraordinarily kind individual. The fact that it could even be seen as extraordinarily kind as opposed to the normal and obvious reaction to the situation would only be proof of how far off track society in general is becoming. What has become of this world, where people have not only lost respect for the elderly, but have also lost the sense of being a good neighbor and have become immune to suffering right in front of their eyes? I would love to have a scapegoat for this incident, to say “Those selfish Italians!” or “Those inconsiderate Brits!”, but I saw passengers from Britain, Ireland, France, Estonia, Russia, the U.S., Canada, Italy, and the Czech Republic all on board, which tells me this change is somewhat of an international phenomenon.
Fountains
St Peter's Square How can we continue to praise and preach individually-focused, “me first” attitudes in the economic/business world and not expect it to carryover into a destructively selfish social attitude? I wonder how long we will need to uphold the “everyone out for himself” ideals before life even with government becomes anarchic - brutish, nasty, and short.
Given this rather crude welcoming to Rome, my negative emotions seemed to be getting the best of me. As the bus navigated its way to the center of town, I found myself wiping tears from my cheeks as the exits for Stazione Tiburtina and Via Nomentana brought back heavy memories. What on earth was I doing here? I kept asking myself. And then it happened. In the midst of my exhaustion, my sorrow, my negativity, we rounded Piazza della Repubblica -- an arch of perfect symmetry all lit up and without the daytime traffic to mar the elegance of the Fontana delle Naiadi-- and I gasped to catch my breath as my spirit was renewed with all the energy and beauty I saw before me. How could I have ever doubted the ability of this remarkable city to stir up emotions of excitement within
me? In fact, a few minutes later I had finally “landed” in my apartment and got to retire my backpack and put an end to this harrowingly long journey. But the allure of Rome was calling, reminding, inviting me to hurry up and rediscover its nooks and crannies, and I barely slept a wink!
With grand plans of seeing everything I never saw in my previous 6 visits to the Eternal City, I scoured my Rough Guide to Rome, highlighting maps and opening and closing times and bus routes, calculating how long it would take to check all these “must do”s off my list. I quickly settled into a comfortable daily “routine”: go to work at 9:15, “the usual” breakfast of OJ, cappuccino, and cornetto at the corner café with my boss at 10, leave around 1:30 or 2, leisurely lunch at home, nap, read, and then the daily stroll starting around 7 or 8. With a prime central location for my living quarters, I have navigated nearly all of central Rome by foot within the last couple of weeks. I’ve enjoyed taking in areas of town I’d never bothered with before such as Testaccio and Monti/San Giovanni, as well as the old favorites and the tourist traps. After the third day in a row waking up with sore hindquarters, I realized that walking everywhere in a city built on 7 hills and a mild case of claustrophobia that compels me to forgo the elevator for the 88 steps to my apartment several times each morning meant that I climb, on average, 600 stairs every day. Were it not for my insatiable penchant for Italian culinary delights like mozzarella di bufala, cannoli, and sfogliatelle, I would probably have the sculpted backside of a contemporary Roman goddess by summer’s end.
Everyday I would think about which area of the city to rediscover on my passagiata that evening, and everyday my intention of staying one hour inevitably turns into two or three hours. Because around every corner is another amazing artifact or Baroque cathedral or breath-taking fountain. Because everyday miracles happen as you find yourself alone in the street accompanied solely by the serenity of the evening just a block or two from Campo dei Fiori. Because a walk in the park here means skirting around Greek and Roman sculptures. Because my lounge is the Spanish Steps and my living room the Roman Forum. Because the uneven cobblestoned streets don’t allow you to rush; one must slow down, linger, window shop, and -- while you’re at it, have a gelato.
So it took me all of three days to throw those grand intentions out my fourth story window…for to try to fit in all the sights of Rome on any stay shorter than a lifetime would be to miss the essence of Rome itself. How could one possibly grasp the feeling of Rome -- the peace and tranquility of the ancient world bathed in moonlight, the laidback “piano, piano…” attitude of the Italians, the incredulousness of mounting a massive obelisk hauled all the way from Egypt or funneling drinking water to all the public fountains throughout the city, the simple pleasures of afternoon siestas and midnight play dates -- if one is hellbent on stacking the itinerary to view the entire contents of the treasure chest of Rome? Like finding a 20 dollar bill in the pocket of last season’s winter jacket, it is the unexpected arrival at a landmark as I aimlessly wander the quiet streets that puts a twinkle in my eye, that lifts the corners of my mouth into a coy Mona Lisa type smile, because I’ve uncovered a secret that the map-toting, follow-the-tour-guide, and let’s-hit-all-of-Rome-in-two-days tourists will never ever know….
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deleted_899
Beautifully written
Hi Jenny, my girlfriend is moving to Rome in September - I've mailed her this blog, I think she'll really appreciate it, it's great!