Sunday, December 4, 2005

Rome: DAYS 82-84 GOODBYE FRIENDS

EIGHTY-SECOND DAY
GOODBYE FRIENDS
December 4-5-6

The frenetic pace of Roman life continues unabated.  Our guests, Jay and Rene, have lots of energy and are on the go in a not so subtle attempt to get in as much as possible of Roma in 4 days.  They have been here many times and Rene’s Dad was the Director of the American Academy here in the mid eighties.  Among the staff he is a revered figure because of his lack of pretension and good humor.  He was the first director who really tried to connect the Academy to Roman artistic life.  Rene’s mom, Marianne, just passed away and for Rene this is a rather nostalgic trip. Marianne loved Rome and before we left, Marianne sent us her Roman favorites: walks, restaurants, gelato places and coffee houses.   Jay is a pipe organ buff and is on the move to see organs in as many churches as he can see in 4 days.  There is no keeping up with their program, but as is our practice of trying to do something everyday, we settle on an Edward Manet show at the gallery behind the Vittorio Emmanuel wedding cake in Piazza Venezia, a 1o minute walk from our apartment.  I like museum shows because they tend to be organized in a way that makes them understandable, either by date and time or period or a certain kind of work by the artist.  Manet was one of the artists most responsible for the transition into French impressionism. This show has a lot of his drawings and prints including a few of the original copper plates, which I always love to see.  His paintings are delicious and remarkable.  I never used to think he was as good as some of his buddies like Monet and Pissaro but what did I know?  His best friend for life was Emil Zola who was very critical of his work and blasted him as a small minor league painter who would never make it in the big time.  After that they weren’t such good friends.

Jay has found a couple of late afternoon organ concerts.  Kim and I elect to miss the first and meet for the second.  The church is on Via Corso and the organ is powerful.  The music is grand, but I think I am churched out -  still, a lovely way to see the church and hear the music. 

We sprint from the church to our dinner reservation at Trattoria del Orso.  It is brightly lit and somewhere between Piazza Navona and Piazza del Colona near the Tiber.  This is a great little neighborhood with dozens of small shops and little alleys.  We are the first in at 8:30 and think Rome is dead, but within 5 minutes all the tables are filled and the place is bursting with large families and huge platters of food.  They have great antipasti spread, which we do not order. Our dishes are wonderful, presented in a very sweet Italian atmosphere with happy waiters, happy diners and fresh food.  Most menus in Rome are now in Italian and English and the restaurants always seem to have one guy who speaks English. We will return to this place; I am hoping to take our kids when they visit.

I must go to the bank.  This is fraught with many perils.  The bank is essentially in the suburbs of Rome and rather a long way from our new place.  It wasn’t even really close to the Academy when we were there but at least in the same zip code.  My rent is due and the landlady will not take it in anything but cash. I guess that means she does not pay taxes on my money - another great surprise.   I really don’t care, but the schlep to the bank on the motorino is a pain.  I have carefully researched the route from our place to the film rental store and then to the bank.  Usually, there is some turn that I have not figured out or I just make a wrong turn.  Aside from the movie guy trying to rip me off on late fees, the rest is eerily smooth.  Gliding past St. Peters and up the Aurilian Way, it is a cinch.  But wait, I get to the bank, take a number and I am in for at least a two-hour wait.  But no again.  My teller recognizes me and pulls me into the back where we do our mysterious transaction.  I stuff the bills into an envelope and am out the door in about 15 minutes much to the consternation of those still waiting in line.  I am so surprised that I go to a bar and have my new favorite, coffee corretto, espresso with grappa - really good.  Always remember in Italy, it is the little things.  I am in the here and in the now. 

The American Academy invites us to lunch to say hello to Rene.  It is a very nice gesture and pleasant as well.  The food is the same as when I left. We return to the Academy later that same night to hear a visiting scholar who is writing a memoir of his Roman experience.  His is apparently a work of the heart and mind.  His reading was spectacular and a performance of its own.  It was held in a second floor room of the brilliant Villa Aurelia.  This magnificent 16th century palace has been shinned and buffed by the Academy.  We are fortunate once again to be included. 

It is part of our deal (Kim and I) that when we ride the motor scooter, there will be no drinking.  Shocking, as it may seem, I am abiding by this rule.  It is so difficult and dangerous to ride here that you don’t need to make it harder.  So, no wine, no after party, but lots of rain, lightening and thunder.  Our ride back is exciting, but we are glad to be off the bike.  We go to a local place called, Da Sergio, in the Campo for a farewell dinner with our friends.  I hope they have had fun; they sure tried. and they are so easy to host.  Tomorrow they return to the Bay area for Christmas and a memorial for Rene’s mom, and then back to Bali to their real home.  We are committed to go next year but so much to do and so little time to do it.  We will see.

A few observations of Rome are on my mind.  This morning (Tuesday) we get up to our empty house and Kim starts our routine day.  She is doing a load of washing, I am reading the paper and watching horrible BBC morning news when once again the power goes off.  What kind of fool am I?  Could we possibly expect the TV, the washing machine and one light to be on at the same time? The answer is a firm no.  Will we never learn? Our 15th century building lived without electricity much longer than with it and we have the Roman columns to prove it. We had better learn the ropes on this one or we will blow up Rome someday.  Did I mention the vacuum cleaner, which does not work but also takes lots of power? We have taxed the system and lost.  Later, on our way to our morning shopping we discover another worker’s parade outside our door.  It was the AARP of Italy otherwise known as the pensioners from all over Italy, come to march in Roma.  I am happy for them; they look like they are having fun.  Just one caveat; please keep your whistles at home.  The noise is deafening.  Roman workers and shoppers ignore the whole thing and life goes on.  As usual with such parades, all cars and trucks have been stopped. Outside the barricades it looks like a traffic mess.


It feels like a life, the rain continues to fall on and off everyday, the stores open, people shop, I go to the gym.

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