The Eternal City

12 years ago, in October 2013, I scribbled a few thoughts about Rome, based on our first visit here:
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Have you ever tasted a sauce, or a stock, or even a wine for that matter, and found it to be so complex, and to contain so many layers of competing and complimentary flavours, that it takes a little time to form an immediate impression about whether you like it or not?
Rome is that flavour.
Rome goes way beyond sweet, sour, salty, spicy.  These are just some of the elements I've detected in the past several days that go to making up the flavour of Rome:

• The organic chaos of the traffic, particularly at large sweeping city roundabouts,
• The number of people who smoke in the street,
• The charm of waiters and shop-keepers who patiently and playfully engage in faltering attempts to order in Italian,
• The extraordinary grandness and beauty of the architecture,
• The wealth and influence of the Catholic Church,
• Frank and loud public exchanges of opinion, complete with gesticulation,
• Street vendors who can instantly revert from sunglasses sales to umbrella sales at the first spit of rain,
• Aloof boutique vendors,
• Sardine tin buses,
• Beggars, exposing deformities and supplicating themselves in front of a cup which ALWAYS contains a single coin,
• Street performers who endure hours in the sun for a handful of coins,
• Pamphleteers around major tourist sites buzzing and stinging like March flies,
• Exceptional food and coffee,
• The sense of history,
• Statues and fountains of extraordinary beauty,
• Tiny alleys of plum and ochre coloured stucco and undulating cobblestones,
• Mopeds and bicycles,
• Car horns and the sirens of emergency vehicles,
• Double parking / corner parking / crazy parking!
• Pilgrimages.

It's an extraordinarily complex and addictive flavour, and one which I hope to return to one day.
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Well, I consider myself to be really fortunate to have had a chance to return.  And, although it is in many ways a different city than it was in 2012, the observations I noted at the time remain.  Smokers are now supplemented by vapers and, in 2025 the number of pilgrims is multiplied by the Catholic jubilee.

This time we have been staying in Testaccio, which is about 2km south of the historical centre of the city and just a little bit grittier:  lots of graffiti, murals, restoration, uneven street cobblestones and hectic traffic.  But it has its charm too.  Our apartment is in an old building of similar apartments all surrounding a central courtyard and stacked about 5 storeys high.  There is a small park directly opposite, and just around the corner is the Piazza Testaccio, which we first saw at about 6pm on Sunday evening when it was chock full of families, grandparents down to toddlers, who were laughing and kicking footballs and generally enjoying the late summer evening.  Dory nailed it when she called it a happy place.

During this visit I have been a little less focused on the primary historical sites of the city (as if you can avoid such things in Rome!) and more focused on art treasures.  We found our way to the Contarelli Chapel a few days ago and I was surprised to find myself moved to tears standing in front of Carravagio’s St Matthew paintings.  Each time we wander by a large church, cathedral or basilica we have been making a point of spending ten minutes inside soaking up the sheer beauty of the interior.  And today I had my internal art thermostat completely baked by the delights of the Borghese Gallery!  I’m beyond words to describe the sensory overload I experienced there.