We are Trasteverini, almost.

9/19/06
For better of for worse, we have moved into the Trastevere apt. The building, by American standards, should be condemned. The apartment we are housed in is charming, though, to say the least. It appears to be two medieval houses that were connected by a narrow gangway that is suspended over the next level by what looks to be toothpicks and rebar. I’ll try to take a picture so you don’t think I’m kidding. We’re on the fourth floor (American fifth) and you can feel and hear each step of the occupants that are wedged into the attic above us. The front room of the house is roughly 75 feet away from the back room, and we spend most of our time getting from room to room. It’s rather the same as how we’ve spent our time in Rome so far, getting from apartment to apartment and retracing our steps innumerable times.

Trastevere is a welcome break from the madness of the city center. The people are more varied, more diverse, without being more tourists, if that makes any sense. We wish we could stay on this street: it has everything. San Francesco a Ripa connects with the Viale de Trastevere at an odd angle, and is a one-way shot, so the traffic doesn’t really funnel through that much. That doesn’t mean that we don’t have 250 Vespas parked outside out bldg… you can’t escape that fact no matter where you go. But the street is lined with extraordinarily interesting shops: a rosticceria (roasted rosemary chicken and potatoes and grilled veggies); a fornaio (fresh bread of all ilk, pastries, and cornetti), a laundry (Tom loves that); numerous restaurants (Indian below and Sushi around the corner, real anomolies in Italy, and the sushi is passable!!); a hair salon (Bed Head and BIGsexyhair); a Greek place (haven’t checked that one out yet); Big Mama’s Jazz club (it’s underground so we can’t hear it); numerous Gelaterias (why is gelato so addictive?); Rome’s biggest flea market around the corner (the Porta Portese is known for its good deals and pickpockets); and Rome’s most popular pizzeria: Ivo (lines for the counter spill into the street during all open hours).

If only we could stay. Right now we’re so ridiculously fed up with italy-acomm.com s empty promises that we’re ready to change our tickets and come home. We spent these last few nights tormenting ourselves with the possibility that we might have to abandon our dream trip and come home. The prospect sent me into a spiral of despair so deep that I found myself, frustrated, crying, sitting in the middle of some huge marble steps in a torrential downpour, crying my eyes out. I had spent all day looking for a kind face and somewhere to recharge my cellphone credit so I could call my mom and scream about my unhappiness. Of course it was Sunday, and all of Italy is shuttered; the people in the stores that ARE open are also openly hostile.

Well, two older ladies saw me sopping and squinted from under their umbrellas: “Are you okay, dearie?” I must’ve looked miserable: hair plastered down, nose a brilliant red, and mascara raccooning my eyes. They were from Iowa, and I regaled them with my story of apartment hell and the lost dream of Italy being the mystery and miracle that it was 10 years (and five years) ago. They said they’d pray for me. I was touched, even though some of my friends would laugh and think (“to their own personal unicorn” {it’s an inside joke}) but it got me thinking about prayer. It’s really just a concentrated thought that has hopes of being channeled somewhere useful. And if someone offers to pray for you, even if you’re an agnostic or else, you should appreciate that fact that someone is going to take the time to concentrate their thoughts on you or your problems or the world around you. That’s pretty special, and while the end result may still but bad, you can know that at least a few people in the world wanted your problems to come first. There’s no sweeter notion of human compassion that that, holy or otherwise.

So we’re here until at least the 2nd of Oct. After that, all is in the wind. If we make it that far, we will be pleased to entertain my mom and aunt, my sister, her husband, two babies, and a good friend. We hope they find a more hospitable Rome than we have encountered so far.