7:00 AM: the alarm rings. Eyes closed, I search for my phone and desperately start hitting the snooze button… but a few minutes later my half-awakened consciousness smacks me in the face–“Not today! Today you are not waking up with Rome. Today is THE day, the productive day, the one where you’ll get to tick off the long unchecked list of to-dos.”
I throw myself out of bed, actually throw myself out, because any slower attempt would result in a two hour “snooze”. I walk out onto the terrace with my caffè doppio, eyes still squinting, my skin awakened by that morning chilly air, filling my body with goosebumps. I quickly grab a throw, curl myself into it and sit on my precious terrace… in a state of “dormiveglia”, listening to the sounds of a city which is still asleep, observing my beloved Rome light up, slowly acquiring all its pastel colors.
The streets are still quiet and empty except for the sound of seagulls, recent additions to Rome’s skyline, the garbage men shuffling bags into trucks and a whistling man walking himself home after a night of revelry.
It’s now 7:45, but Rome never wakes up before 9:00: I’m ahead of schedule. I feel confident. It’s a promising day. I’m already beating Rome: 1-0.
Rome won’t have the best of me, not today! Yesterday Rome won: this city always wins Mondays, but Mondays don’t count–they exist for the sole purpose of easing us into the week, the real week which, at least here, “officially” starts on Tuesday. I tell myself that today I won’t be caught up in any unnecessary chats, strolls, errands, mid-day coffees or evening aperitivos. NOT TODAY.
A high pitched bark and a concerned look from Penny snaps me out of my thoughts and back into reality. It’s somehow 8:30 AM. I must have observed the roman roofs for a little too long, but my dog makes sure I get back on track. “Andiamo”, leash on, “e via”: we are heading down Rome’s streets for her morning walk and my morning cappuccino “al bar”.
After a brief stroll, one dog encounter and a few corner sniffs, we get to Caffe Ciampini, right in time for opening at 9:00 AM. Time isn’t wasted deciding what to have: Ale, the bartender, already knows. “Buongiorno! Cappuccino, espresso, cornetto vuoto e un bicchiere di acqua frizzante”–a perfectly creamy cappuccino, one espresso, a plain cornetto and a glass of sparkling water. We exchange a few friendly words “del piu e del meno” (of everything and nothing) and with a “a domani” (see you tomorrow), we’re off.
We start walking decisively towards home, with an unusually fast New York style pace, as if we were running away from something, trying to ignore all distractions and suppressing the innate craving of enjoying that clear blue day for a little while longer.
It takes just one chubby labrador and its owner–an older beautiful lady, with impeccable grey hair tied up in a ponytail, holding various bags filled with goods from the market–to do the trick. “How could we properly get through a dense work day without some good food at home?!” I tell myself that a quick stop by the market won’t steal too much time, but will make us a whole lot happier. We walk down Via Di Campo Marzio, right by the Chiesa della Santa Maria Della Concezione and onto Via della Maddalena.
On our way to the market, lively Rome is taking shape, waking up as the sun warms the streets. When we need to make a right turn onto Via delle Coppelle, we see a line and it can’t be for anything else than one of Rome’s best and oldest butcher shops Feroci… zucchine ripiene or a saltimbocca alla romana would make for a great dinner and would require very little prep. I take a quick detour, run in, grab a ticket—#67–I have at least seven customers ahead of me, enough time to run over to my original destination, the small market in Piazza Delle Coppelle (a real gem, known by few). I quickly grab the daily fall “necessities”: broccoli romani, puntarelle, clementini e castagne. When I go to pay, Alberto shouts, “Signori e’ appena arrivata la mozzarella, e’ freschissima!” (“Miss, the mozzarella just arrived..it’s so fresh!”). How could anyone say no to that?! My answer is simple “Dato che ci siamo aggiungi anche del pane, dei pomodori e del basilico grazie!” (“At this point, add also some bread, tomatoes, and basil, thank you!”) I leave with two huge green bags: oops, I got carried away… I’ll have to call a couple of friends to finish it all up.
My phone rings, I don’t pick up, I don’t have any free hands to do so. It rings again, ceaselessly, it must be mom! After the third call, I stop, put the bags down and answer “Mamma dimmi?!” (“Mom, tell me”). “Are you at the market by any chance? I ordered a swordfish carpaccio at Er Pesciarolo right on the square’s corner, can you please go by and bring it over later?” A few minutes later, with one extra bag, I look down at my watch, “Shoot! it’s 11:00am!!” How could it be? I speed walk to Feroci and obviously my calculations were wrong, I missed my turn, and while I decide if it’s worth waiting a minute longer, I grab a new ticket…72…only two people in front of me. It’s worth the wait! It always is.
And you can imagine where the rest of the day went: I surrendered to Rome, to its beauty, to it’s smells, to its will of being enjoyed. My pace is slower, Roman. Why not have another coffee (one accompanied by orange water at Roscioli caffé), peek into a few churches (just like Santa Maria Dell’Anima and San Luigi dei Francesi ), go buy some fresh peonies da Stefano at Campo dei Fiori and get some pizza al taglio at the Forno Di Campo Dei Fiori or/and at the Gian Fornaio in Cola di Rienzo? Or maybe do all the above and more: the options are endless and so is the day.
I head to Caffe’ Sant Eustachio for one more very needed coffee and a chat with owner and friend Fede. Rome’s famous cafè is only a few streets down, but why take the shorter route when the longer one could take me into the Pantheon, one of those Roman buildings I’ve entered a myriad of times, but not enough for its grandiosity to stop amusing me.
A chat with Fede turns into a lazy lunch at L’Amatricianella of buccie di patate, cicoria ripassata and a amatriciana to share, followed by a stroll all the way to Trastevere for Otaleg’s gelato. On other days, a less gluttonous passeggiata in Villa Borghese with a peak into the National Gallery of Modern Art works just as well. All things which don’t stop me from an evening aperitivo at Hotel Locarno and hosting a gaggle of friends for dinner.
If you have lived in Rome you know what I’m talking about: ogni scusa e’ buona (every excuse is good) to enjoy the dolce far niente. It’s a city of temptations where a quick coffee run somehow turns into a reason to “run” to the fori romani, pass by the colosseum, cross the Parco Del Colle Oppio and end up at Panella for a caffè with zabaione followed by a maritozzo con la panna at Regoli…
In a few words, “A Roma c’e sempre domani …”: there is always tomorrow for everything but life.
Life just happens here, between a coffee, a chat, a lunch and a passeggiata. Unexpectedly, spontaneously, without too much planning. It might not be the most efficient way to live, but it’s definitely a pretty damn good one.
