In a scene from one of the greatest films ever made, (in fact it is my all time favorite film, and has been since I was twelve years old) two English gentlemen, a vicar and a young unmarried man, are walking through a field in Surrey, talking about fate. They had previously met by chance in Florence, and their paths have once again crossed, by happenstance, it seems, in the south of England.
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Rome ever get you down? It's not easy to livethis city. I hear my fellow expatriates (myself included) complain often about any number of frustrating things about this crazy city, from the bureaucracy nightmares to the dishonest cab drivers and everything in between. But for so many of us, something connects us with this city, often something we can't describe.
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Recently, Travel & Leisure Magazine came up with this year's World's Best Awards. Their readers rank everything from cities to hotels, spas and airlines, by region and worldwide. This was released back in July, but as usual, I'm a little out of the loop. It's hard to keep your finger on the pulse of the world when you live in eternally laid-back Rome.
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Turns out not only did Rome's streets get their names for very particular reasons, but their piazzas do too. Today something made me think of the tiny piazza hidden somewhere between the Pantheon and Largo Argentina: Piazza della Pigna, or Pinecone Square, named for a very famous pinecone found there.
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An article in last Thursday’s Telegraph bearing this provocatively titled article has created a bit of a buzz among my expatriate friends here in Rome. So I'm here to ask the question: Are Italian women really the unhappiest in all of Europe?
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When you think of ancient Roman architecture and sculpture, when you imagine yourself traveling back to the time of the Caesars (please don’t tell me I’m the only one who fantasizes about time travel) what do you see? Immaculate white marble statues and gleaming, bright white temples and palaces? Well, think again.
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Then lucky you! Because while nearly everyone you know is getting sunburnt and dehydrated under the hot August sun, or steaming in traffic, or fighting a crowd of rowdy sea-crazed Romans, or perhaps even getting stung by a jellyfish, you can immerse yourself in the air-conditioned and inspiring culture you can't find anywhere but Rome.
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On Friday evening I attended this summer’s final performance of the Miracle Players’s new show. An annual tradition I look forward to every year, it’s a very entertaining way to kick off the weekend. For those who haven’t had the pleasure of attending one of these outdoor performances, they are produced by 5 English-speaking actors who put together a 40-minute play about Rome (ancient or not) every summer, and perform it overlooking the Roman Forum.
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Translation of the ancient Greek: a man wiping himself off or, more succinctly, the wiper (or in some translations, the scraper). I love these nice, literal titles. The man in question is using a stirgil (a curved spatula-like instrument) to wipe off his sweat. Looks a bit like a medieval torture device!
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One of the many things that delights me about this city is its street names. Every street, road and alleyway in this town was christened for a very specific reason. The one on my mind today is Vicolo dell'Atleta. Athlete's Alley.
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Rome is a place brimming with photo opportunities, from nuns buying corkscrews at Ikea to gladiators in the metro, not to mention the real wonders. Now, I may not be a decent photographer (well, maybe I'm half-way decent. If youask me to take your photo, I will make sure you are in the center, and that you can see whatever is behind you, and not, say, the pavement)...
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Once upon a time, when I started this blog -ah, my life was so much simpler then- I was ambitious enough to think that I would write six times a week, with every day of the week dedicated to a different topic. And I chose Monday as history day. I had the lofty idea that I would write out a concise history of Rome, one blog post at a time.
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