Last Wednesday I was out with two Italian friends. After a very nice dinner we went to Hotel Butterfly, which with its trees full of thousands of lights seemed to come straight out of a fairy tale. Around two o’clock – when this placed under the stars shut down – we got in the car to go home. At least that’s what we thought. Because when we drove along the river Tevere ten minutes later, the car was suddenly put aside, some drinks were bought and we sat down on the edge of the river for a chat. Without any consultation, without one of the three of us asking what we were doing or why. And perhaps that’s the very best answer to that frequently asked question why I decided to make Rome my home again.
When, after five minutes, the Dutch realised that the Italians weren’t making any effort to either go home or to go to another place, they started to look around a bit puzzled
It reminds me of the time I had dinner with a mixed group of Italians and Dutch people. After everyone had left the restaurant, the Italians flocked together in groups on the pavement while continuing the conversations they had over dinner. When, after five minutes, the Dutch realised that the Italians weren’t making any effort to either go home or to go to another place, they started to look around a bit puzzled. Should they take the initiative and come up with a plan? They looked at me in despair and I shook my head with a smile. The Italians had not even thought about that for a second. Perhaps we would be standing here for another ten minutes, perhaps it would be an hour and a half. Chissà. Who knows? Where people from other places really tend to plan things in life – What are we going to do after this dinner? And next week? And next year? – there’s only one reality in Rome. The here and now.
So, what is this unique life in Rome for me then?
And in that Roman reality there are so many other things that make this city unique. For me, it’s not the Trevi Fountain or the Coliseum. The Vatican or the Altare della Patria. Because all these beautiful buildings only shape the unique backdrop of a life that is more special and at times more elusive than could ever be captured in stones. So, what is this unique life in Rome for me then?
It’s the nun who went viral last month after being photographed with a Victoria Secret bag – the lingerie brand known worldwide for its exuberant, sexy and lace bras and panties.
It is the collective talent of the Romans to drive in five lanes on a three-lane-road.
It’s the male barista who asked my opinion about his new Dolce & Gabbana parfume. Before I knew it, he sprayed it all over me leaving me with this heavy men’s scent all over me for the rest of the day.
It’s the children playing football at Piazza Minerva, kicking the ball against the ancient walls of the surrounding monuments, aware of the grandeur of their unusual football field but too much swallowed up in the game to even bother for a second.
It’s speeding up when the traffic light has been orange for a bit already. Even at zebra crossings, yes.
It’s the pumped up fitness boy who never finished school who strictly corrected me last week in Piazza Navona when I confused Barberini with Borromini, the architect of the Sant’Agnese in Agone church.
It’s elegantly strolling through the streets on my highest heels and with blow-dried hair without anyone saying “Pff… look at her”.
It’s the traffic controller in Piazza Venezia who, with his cap, whistle and stop sign standing on a small elevation to create some length (and awe) probably has the most challenging job in town.
It’s the drops you feel on your head when you walk down the street on a summer night. You wonder if it will rain after all, only to realise very quickly that it’s just the nonnas who, as soon as it gets dark, generously water the plants on their balconies.
It is the Italian single mother who had her first child when she was 48 years old and is surprised when people find that at least a little unusual, as her friends were all so late when starting to have babies.
It’s the carabinieri who glide through the streets in their Lotus Evora worth almost a hundred thousand euros (it was a present) on their daily patrol round.
It’s the pasta carbonara which is dark yellow in color (the only colour a carbonara should have).
It’s the magical view from the Gianicolo hill where on a weekday evening at least thirty-five dates take place at the same time (let’s say the Roman men are not the most innovative in determining a location for a romantic evening).
It’s the non-existent bus times schedule so that technically a bus can never be late in Rome. No, not even when it finally appears after you’ve been waiting for forty-five minutes.
It’s the Roman waiters who always seem to have fun while working and keep coming round at your table to make jokes.
It’s the endless search for a parking place to just double park in the end. For now, it’s fine and if that other car you’re completely blocking needs to get out later on, they will make that clear by honking loudly. An efficient system that always works in Rome.
It’s the clattering sound of small espresso cups being placed on saucers for the many coffees that the Romans take al banco, standing at the bar.
It is the “Annamo raga” instead of “Andiamo ragazzi”, which simply means “Let’s go guys”.
It’s playing Whitney Houston on the highest volume in the small Fiat 500 while making three extra rounds at Piazza Venezia.
It’s the hot August days, the November days full of rain and the short winters with clear blue skies.
It is the fact that the majority of all phone calls made (and Italians call really a lot) start with “Ciao mamma!”.
It’s the discotheques that all have a summer and winter version. The winter version is simply inside, whereas the summer version is an open air version where you dance under the stars all night long. Best invention ever.
It’s my eternal search for tabacchi, little tobacco shops, of which you still find one in almost every street. Not for cigarettes, but for bus tickets.
It’s the more than a thousand fountains in the city where you can fill your bottle with the cleanest water at any time of the day. Those aqueducts of the Romans weren’t such a crazy idea at all.
It’s eating the most delicious panino of your life at some shabby gas station.
It’s the tradition to bring in the cake at midnight, whether it’s a birthday, wedding or graduation party, so you’re having this piece of super sweet pastry with your sixth beer of the night. Not a great combination I can tell you, but nowadays I’m prepared for it.
It’s every now and then taking off your mouth mask to greet someone in the street with two kisses and a hug.
But above all it’s the city where La Dolce Vita was born.
All these little things, which of course are only a fraction of what makes life in Rome so special, have one thing in common. They are full off an enormous zest for life and concentrate on the here and now. There is almost something paradoxical about how one can live so in the present in a city where two thousand year old history literally looms up in front of you at every single corner.
It is very special to realise that also the memories and beautiful moments I create here will be part of the history of the city forever
But if you now got the impression the Romans don’t pay much attention to the unique history of their city, you’re wrong. I don’t know a local who doesn’t sigh when passing by the Coliseum and making comments on what a true spectacle it is. The history is inside us all, as the result of a life that is passed on for thousands of years. It is very special to realise that also the memories and beautiful moments I create here will be part of the history of the city forever. Just like all the memories of the millions of other residents and visitors made in Rome, or I should say Mamma Roma, as the Romans affectionately call their city. So the next time you’re in Rome, follow that world-famous saying: “When in Rome, do as the Romans do”. Um, except for speeding up at orange traffic lights perhaps.