“So, what are your weekend plans?” It was already after lunch on Friday when I still had no answer to this question. Well, the day before me and my friend made plans to go for aperitivo on Saturday evening, but that was really it. Besides, this is Italy, and such a plan is anything but set in stone. Here, agendas are just a little less important, and it is not uncommon for things to be cancelled at the last minute. Funny enough, this is in sharp contrast with the almost obsessive reservation policy. Calling places in advance to secure a spot: perhaps the most important unwritten rule in Rome you need to know.
Not much later, I suddenly got a message: “Anne!! I have just landed in Rome!”. Wait a minute, had I missed something?
Not much later, it was almost four on Friday afternoon, I suddenly got a message: “Anne!! I have just landed in Rome!”. The sender? One of the best friends of my Spanish friend whom I had met at her party in Spain four weeks earlier. Wait a minute, had I missed something? But no. It turned out that he had travelled to Rome for a reunion with two Italian college friends, and he immediately invited me to join them that evening. My initial protest “shouldn’t it be just the three of you as you must have so much to catch up on?” was immediately dismissed and he informed me that the reservation had already been changed from three to four people. I had no choice. Once I arrived at the chic sushi restaurant with its spectacular view over the Spanish Steps, the two bouncers outside the door took me in from head to toe. I had forgotten to check what kind of restaurant I was expected at and the jeans I was wearing were a bit casual for the occasion, to say the least. Thank God I had swapped my sandals for a pair of heels at the last minute. What was the name of the reservation? Uhm, I had no idea, actually. “But my friends are already here,” I said, gesturing casually with my hands and already setting foot inside. But the bouncers were implacable: before I could correctly name the first and last name and the time of the reservation, I was not allowed to enter.
The tables for both lunch and dinner on Saturday were already booked. The best cacio e pepe would await at one thirty sharp, and at night they would go for the best pizza in town
Once I had joined the guys inside, I asked them about their plans for the weekend. I heard things like the Pantheon and the Vatican Museums, but when exactly that was all to happen was still completely unclear. The tables for both lunch and dinner on Saturday were already booked, however. The best cacio e pepe – the primordial Roman pasta with only pepper and pecorino cheese – would await at one thirty sharp, and at night they would go for the best pizza in town. But wasn’t it a smart idea to book the Vatican Museums too? Or the Pantheon? Well, no one had thought of that, and so it came that on Saturday afternoon – the gentlemen insisted that I would join them the next day as well – we stood there somewhat bemused. The message from the officer on duty was unmistakable. He kept shouting it to the crowd that had gathered in front of the Pantheon on the otherwise so serene square: “Oggi solo con prenotazioni!”: only with reservation today.
Getting into a nightclub in Rome is more complicated than visiting the Pope
However, their attention was soon diverted for there was a much more pressing problem that they were dealing with: where would they go out at night? The night before, they had failed to get into the trendy nightclub I had recommended, and with this debacle still fresh in their minds, this deep concern is what the whole afternoon was really about. As we walked past the reunions of the two-thousand-year-old Forum Romanum, the guys were diligently peering at their phone screens to find a nightclub that all three considered good enough for their annual reunion. However, again they would need to get themselves on the guest list, because here too applies: no reservation, no entrance. I promised to help and after having phoned and texted some friends – who of course are friends of friends of the owners of these places who can often “arrange something” – I was very sorry I had to disappoint them: getting into a nightclub in Rome is more complicated than visiting the Pope.
It is so often said, and in my experience so often confirmed: Italians are impulsive and prefer to do whatever they feel like doing over what their agenda tells them to do. But don’t be fooled
It is so often said, and in my experience so often confirmed: Italians are impulsive and prefer to do whatever they feel like doing over what their agenda tells them to do. But don’t be fooled. Because, no matter how spontaneous life really is here, when it comes to reserving tables, the Italians suddenly turn out to be true organisational talents who are very good at planning far ahead. Eating well is nothing less but a holy thing, and I can guarantee you: you want to have dinner wherever all those Italians are going for dinner. So, here’s my golden advice for a weekend in Rome: do whatever you feel like doing at any moment in time, but make sure to also book some tables here and there. This way, you’re sure to no end up at the corner kebab shop. Unless, of course, that greasy comfort food is exactly what you want to eat away your sorrow for not getting into that hip and happening nightclub.