Roman Re-Entry

 

That's right, friends: I'm back. 

For a Fall term of teaching, that is. I'm staying in a different AirBnB (this one has AC, I'm thrilled to report, but no oven and for the first 5 days and counting, no hot water to speak of...no wait, I must be brutally honest. 4 minutes of hot water. Then it runs cold again). 

Re-entry into Rome is muggy and swampy and in glaring sun, almost too bright to take. There is the threat of thunderstorms, but generally, the threat expires with no action. So the barometric headache just lingers. 

Re-entry into Rome is a test of acquired but rusting language skills. So far, I've had to struggle to recall the word for 'bill' (for my sit-down lunch), but otherwise, I have surprised myself. And the bonus: my ear for listening and understanding is still pretty good. 

Simone is missing his unicorn. 

He will return to the store after finding it.

For all the information, call this number.

Re-entry into Rome is far more quiet than I expected, but I am in a different neighborhood, with a higher rate of Italian language-only, working class residents. I might hear English spoken on the street, but there is still a drastic reduction in tourists. Conversely, I cannot find a place to toss my recycling. Regular trash and 'organici' (compost), yes. Recycling, no. 

This is a main square in the neighborhood, highly populated on weekends by children with soccer balls and scooters, senior citizens killing time together, and political speeches. The fountain in the center is a more modern one, by Roman standards, meant to evoke the history of the neighborhood - Testaccio - which was built upon an ancient trash heap of pottery shards, the remains of broken oil and wine vessels. 

A better close-up of that fountain.

Re-entry into Rome means being ready to unload your groceries on the conveyor belt and scurrying to their collection at the end to bag them yourself while simultaneously, mentally translating that spoken Italian euro sum AND getting as much exact change as you can out of your wallet (because the cashier is going to ask you for it anyway, so you might as well get ahead). Now that I've seen what American baggers can do to my fragile groceries, I'm happy to do the bagging myself, but no, I don't like that pressure of doing so much at once, either. 

Re-entry into Rome means sore feet, stair climbing and wistfully looking at elevators you are not allowed to use...and accepting that the explanation you were given for the prohibition against elevator usage is nonsensical, and thus, more or less Italian. 

There it is. One of two elevators that you need a key to use, and the AirBnb host says she didn't obtain one because she was 'not around' when the elevators were installed. 

That's the best explanation I got. 

I asked if I could use one of them to just get my bags up to the second floor. 

She said she asked on my behalf. And the answer was 'no.' It is at once infuriating and Italian, this kind of thing. 

Re-entry into Rome means still wearing a face mask on public transit. Well, for about 60% of the riders. The rest are fine with risking Covid transmission and/or a fine. At present, the case rate is relatively low, but we shall see what the season brings. Italy is just now rolling out the second booster for people over the age of 60. 

Re-entry into Rome means food adventures. Within reason, I am here for it.

Is this not a sunny, bright kind of lunch? Risotto made with purple cabbage, a dollop of soft cheese and a sprinkling of pistachios, sliced oranges and fennel, and a sweet slice of cantaloupe draped in prosciutto. You need to go off the beaten path for lunches like this (translation: go outside the city center), which don't offer the standard tourist-driven array of pastas and sandwiches. But what a reward when you do it. And with the exchange rate being so favorable right now, I can easily tell you the cost: $12.

Once I found a small bottle of chili oil as well as ground chili flakes, I ordered a takeaway quattro formaggi (four cheeses) pizza...and it was fabulous. 

I also ordered puntarelle...the sliced, curling stalks of chicory, quickly sauteed in olive oil, anchovy and lemon. The point was to absolve some guilt over that pizza. 

But it's really, really good. 

Re-entry into Rome means a new group of students, who are also here for it. It is nice to see the energy and enthusiasm again. May it continue through the term. 

Here we are - all 18 of us - at the Villa Giulia, Etruscan Museum of Art.

Sweating, naturally. 

Re-entry into Rome also means renewing friendships. Here is my friends' view of the sunset from their terrace.  

And here is the harvest moon from their terrace.

And here is what they just 'whipped up' for dinner:

(and if you two are reading this, don't worry: the pasta comes in another entry)

Re-entry in September is tough because the calendar says autumn, but the temperatures do not. Even Italians are, I think, based on my casual observation in the last couple of years, overlooking their usual annual puffy coat day, which was September 15. 

It will be 84F on this September 15. 

We'll see what this one brings. After all, re-entry into Rome has already included seeing jackets and scarves on early mornings. 

Re-entry is a rhythm I'm still seeking out...I think I have time to find it.