Weekly blog #139: How ‘il dolce far niente’ became a dire necessity

It’s the beautiful art of slow living that was invented by the Italians and that they named so very poetically: il dolce far niente. In other words: the sweet art of doing nothing. An endless lunch on Sunday afternoon, followed by lounging in the hammock with your sun hat on, while the languid sounds of jazz music reach your ears from a crackling gramophone player that someone turned on near an open window. It’s sometimes a dream, sometimes reality and almost by default the setting of an old Italian film scene. 

Il dolce far niente imposed by the Italian government as a precautionary measure

But every now and then, like last week, il dolce far niente is a lot less romantic than it suggests. It is a dire necessity and goes by a different name: Red Weather Alert. Il dolce far niente imposed by the Italian government as a precautionary measure in no less than 22 cities across the country, from north to south. Because it was hot, incredibly hot. During my last week in Rome, the temperatures constantly hovered around forty degrees Celsius. Most of the time, it stayed just below that, with 39 degrees on the thermometer, but last Monday and Tuesday the temperature went through the somewhat psychological barrier of forty degrees: 41 degrees. And, as the Italians said it themselves, you could feel all 41 of them… “Si sentivano tutti e 41… “

There was the urgent advice not to undertake any physical activity during the day between eleven and six. But with a move on my to-do list, that proved impossible

A Red Weather Alert it was, but what does that even mean? Among other things, the urgent advice not to undertake any physical activity during the day between eleven and six. But with a move on my to-do list, that proved impossible. As I told you in the previous blog, I was going to leave the city for the months of July and August, for exactly this reason.

Heading off to the beach is the very worst idea on such a day

I can only say that it was pretty intense at times. From Monday to Friday, I was sorting things out, packing things and bringing things away. Except for Wednesday, when I took a very necessary break from all the hassle of moving. It was the day of San Pietro e Paolo, the patron saints of Rome, and therefore a day off for all Romans. Heading off to the beach is the very worst idea on such a day, as the rest of the city is doing exactly the same. But luckily my friends, born and raised in the villages around Rome and therefore real locals, never disappoint and they knew exactly where we could go: the non-touristy and also somewhat impassable side of the lake of Castel Gandolfo, less than half an hour from Rome. 

We installed ourselves on our towels and soon my friend pulled pieces of pizza and a bottle of wine out of his backpack

Once here, my mouth literally fell open. I had been by the lake before, but not on this side. We clambered down from the dense forest path through the bushes, while I let myself down from one branch to the next. A few moments later, we were standing on the rocks that rose from the water. We installed ourselves on our towels and soon my friend pulled slices of pizza and a bottle of wine out of his backpack. I swam in crystal-clear water amongst fishes and turtles, which were once released by humans and have lived there ever since. Surrounded by impressive nature, there was no one to be seen except for some swimmers and canoeists who sporadically passed by. We swam, took naps on the rocks and ate pizza. And for just one day last week, il dolce far niente was back to what it was meant to be, instead of it being a Red Weather Alert. I couldn’t be more content.