There's No Place Like Rome...

I'm back! I'm back! Did you miss me? I missed you guys! I've finally shaken off enough jet lag to hammer out my first post-honeymoon post.

Aside: As for the La Mia Italia "contest" -- did you read everyone's submissions? Do you have a favorite? If you feel more motivated than I do, send me an email (ahirswap AT gmail DOT com) by May 15 with your vote, which counts as an entry into the contest for the person you've voted for. After I get all the votes, I'll do a random draw for the winner, chosen from the votes received. If I don't get any votes, I'll just randomly draw from all entries. Can't go back on my promise of prizes ...

So, how shall we kick off the month of May? While I ride out the rest of my jet lag, I'll hand it over to my more energetic cousin Fabio for today and put my bragging rights to good use.

If you were with us way back in November, you might recall when I introduced you to my bionically enhanced super cousin. Since then he's made quite a name for himself in the world of parkour here in Rome. His most recent appearance was on Le Iene, a popular sort of undercover investigative reporting/comedy/variety show here in Italy where this season between segments with the reporters they've had different dance/acrobatic groups perform. Click here to watch the segment. Fabio is the one with the shaved head. Click here to watch a taping of the rehearsal. Fabio is the one in the red t-shirt who steals the script off the desk.

Speaking of Le Iene, might I digress for one moment? Am I the only one who thinks that Jeff in Puglia is the long-lost twin of Paolo Kessisoglu, half of the show's dynamic duo? (That is, if you're not counting Hilary's dynamic duo.)

Judge for yourself:



Who is who, right? That's what you're thinking? I know!
PS Jeff?! When's that Rome trip happening?

Anyhoo, back to today's hero: this latest video was born as a sort of pitch for a FootLocker commercial and at the same time as a kind of anti-drug PSA. Fabio is really active in getting young people in Rome's outlying neighborhoods involved with parkour, in the process keeping them away from drugs and crime, giving them something positive to take part in that also has an adrenalin factor.

Strangely enough, Fabio says that it's a misconception that parkour or freerunning is risky: he tells me they do so much training and practice that the actual risk involved once you are properly trained is minimal. Um, I'll take his word for it.

If you'd like to know more about parkour and see two more videos, just click back to my previous article.

Here's the latest, which is a bit different than the previous videos in that here they are actually out and about in the city, which makes for some amusingly puzzled bystanders. Running on walls, you know... all in a day's work. Watch as Fabio mysteriously emerges (hatches?) from a closet after a pair of shoes gets stolen... and the plot thickens...

Nabbed

It was inevitable that sooner or later, I would catch the arrotino in the act. Little do people know that I can spy with James Bond-like stealth and ease from the comfort and privacy of my office, which is on the roof of our building.

If you haven't already read my exposè on this neighborhood character, I heartily invite you to do so by clicking on the aformentioned link, before you behold and share with me now his folkloric cry. (Feed readers, click through to the post.) Speaking of which, I might add: this guy has got one splendid set of pipes.

All together now:

"ARRRROOOOOTTIIIIINOOOOO!"



Did you catch Pietro and his dog Nano, too?

Guest Blogger: Eugenio, Wine Expert Extraordinaire (Part Two)

Welcome back to my two-part series on my pal Eugenio (read part one here). Thanks for your comments on part one; it's encouraging to see that I'm not the only one who feels a little unsure about where to start when it comes to knowing about wines. So, without further ado:

Q: You often hear experts talking about smelling things like tobacco, or grass, or other smells… how is it possible to distinguish these smells? Do you need to take a course?

A: It’s true. Wine experts have chosen to tell the story of the scents of wine by using examples of scents that are common to everyone. It’s easier and more understandable when you hear someone say they smell “cinnamon” rather than “aldeide cinnamica,” no? That’s where we get the perfume families that describe the scents: floral (acacia, violet…), fruit (berries, tropical fruit), herbal (hay, mushroom, grass), spice (pepper, liquorice, vanilla), toasted (coffee, cocoa, smoked), ethereal (wax, varnish, caramel), etc.
To identify them it’s enough to just remind yourself of common scents and then look for them in the wine.

Q: Why is it important to smell wine?

A: It’s important in order to appreciate the characteristics typical to a wine and its quality. And then let’s think of the role that scent covers in certain animal species. From bees to dogs, and lastly in humans. Scent gives psychological and physical emotions, and it determines choices. Have you ever eaten something that you hated the smell of? I don’t think so…

Q: You were a judge for the International Wine Challenge, and from what I understand, it’s kind of like the Oscars for wine. How did you become a judge? What was the experience like for you?

In June of 2005 I was at Vinexpo in Bordeaux to choose wines for my Italian and Swiss companies. I was stressing out a poor French producer because I was telling her about the defects I had found in her wine. A woman saw this and came up to me, asking me if I was a sommelier and if I was familiar with the IWC, inviting me to stop by their stand to chat.
I stopped by, got to know the organizers and had a nice chat with them. In the months following we exchanged emails, they evaluated my resumè and then they invited me to participate as a judge in the Challenge. I told them that I was available and I was honored by the offer, which would allow me to taste wines alongside the world’s foremost wine experts, learning from the Senior Judges who I had the pleasure of working with in the beautiful Barbican Center in London.

Behind the scenes at the International Wine Challenge 2006, held at London's Barbican Center

The IWC is the most important wine tasting competition in the world: more than 9,300 wines are tasted and evaluated by 150 judges, only three of which were Italian. Let’s not forget that Italy is the biggest producer of wine in the world. To represent Italy alongside my two “made in Italy” colleagues was an honor for me. Working side by side with these “Masters of Wine” was a completely unexpected goal for me, especially considering that I’m “only” 38.

Q: The whole “scene” that happens at the table when they bring you the bottle of wine you ordered can be intimidating for someone who doesn’t know anything about wine. Tell us then, what is one really supposed to do when the bottle arrives? Are you really supposed to smell the cork?

A: I don’t smell the cork but smell the wine to see if it smells of cork. If this is the case, then I ask them to bring out another bottle. If it’s not the case, then I nod to the server and pour myself a nice glass that I enjoy completely relaxed in good company. It’s fantastic exchanging impressions of wine with my friends. A bottle of special wine can be a gift of invaluable emotions, making an evening unforgettable.

Q: What was or what is the biggest satisfaction you gain from your work?

A: To count among my clients: both colleagues and sommelier restaurant owners, many of whom are the biggest Italian and foreign wine experts in their field; associations dedicated to the promotion of the culture of “drinking well;” not to mention also a few indulgent VIPs famous on a global scale. In Italy you know we have a privacy law, otherwise I would name some names…
This is the payback for all the hard work I do on a daily basis in finding important wines with little prices.

Q: One last question, just for fun: in your opinion, what is “the” wine of 2007?

A: Can I have a back-up question, please? It’s like asking a father which of his children he likes the best. And I have lots of children, at least in an enological sense…
Given that, I’ll close my eyes and respond to you in good faith. I’m betting on Ruchè 2006 from Nadia Verrua. It’s coming out in May 2007 and I think it’s going to make people talk a lot about it. And in tasting it, you’ll understand why…

Thanks, Shelley, for the interview! I wish all your readers a wonderful holiday if they are coming to Italy. And don’t forget that the ancient name of Italy was Enotria, or “Country of Wine.” Surely there’s a reason for this name, no? In vino veritas…

Grazie to you, Euge, for the generous information you shared…I had fun picking your brain a bit on a topic that continues to fascinate me. Wishing you all the best in 2007!

If you are interested in contacting Eugenio, you can write to him at: bigliocca AT caveduroi DOT com. Soon he will also be launching a long-awaited website, delayed due to his impossibly heavy workload, at www.caveduroi.com. Keep an eye out for it, and happy wine tasting!

Guest Blogger: Eugenio, Wine Expert Extraordinaire (Part One)

Among my pals here in Italy, I am lucky to count a person who I think has hands-down the coolest and most glamorous job of anyone I know. Eugenio Bigliocca, founder and owner of Cave du Roi, a wine sales and distribution company, is a bona fide international wine expert. And if you think I’m exaggerating because he’s a friend of mine, then I’ll let his resumè speak for itself. Besides the fact that he has been a sommelier certified by the Italian Sommelier’s Association (AIS) since 1994, he is often called on by Slow Food, Italy’s premier foundation for promoting education and appreciation of excellent food and wine, to present and discuss wine; he works with some of Italy’s top up-and-coming “diamond in the rough” wine producers, scouring the Italian countryside personally to discover them and sometimes signing their wines for exclusive distribution; in addition, last year he was asked to become a judge for the International Wine Challenge, a kind of “Oscars” in the international wine community, one of the highest honors that can be bestowed upon someone who works in the field of wine tasting, sales and education.

Since the day I met Eugenio a few years ago, I have been continually impressed by his approach to wine. I’m a total wine amateur—I drink it, but can’t say I know how to properly “appreciate” it. That being said, I’ll admit that I always believed that in order to be a real wine expert, a job pre-requistite was to be a colossal snob. I was not only intimidated by the field of wine appreciation, I was turned off by the idea that you had to have a major superiority complex to be part of this “in” club.

When we first encountered Eugenio after coincidentally sitting next to him at a dinner for a mutual friend, we ended up talking to him literally non-stop for the three hours or so the dinner lasted. I was instantly intrigued and completely enchanted by his down-to-earth approach, and above all his passion for wine, which was tangible and contagious. I took the chance that first evening to ask him lots of “wine for dummies” questions and he never once made me feel ignorant or silly, bringing me instead, even if just for a moment, into that exclusive club I never thought I could join.

For a while when I was contemplating my transition away from my rather overwhelming job as director of a large US university study abroad center, we toyed with the idea of becoming partners in a wine business here in Rome. We talked about opening a wine shop, a wine bar…we let our imaginations run wild. Unfortunately we never took this dream project to fruition; as his business continues to skyrocket and my newborn business of hosting tourists in our apartments picks up the pace slowly but surely, we’ve left our plans aside for the moment. But I can certainly say that if ever there was a perfect person to dream up an incredible business plan with, Euge is the man.

Needless to say, he keeps us in good supply because we get all our wines from him and him alone, including the bottles I leave for my guests in the apartments. It's a little like having a personal wine shopper who knows your tastes and introduces you to amazing wines you weren't aware of, without going broke. So I can definitely admit that in this respect I, and my guests, are quite spoiled!

But enough of my gushing. I’ll let you read for yourself why I think he’s such a rare find in the world of wines. I asked him if he would allow me to “interview” him for my blog, and he was happy to oblige. I’m hoping we’ll all learn a little something new in the process. Grazie, Euge!

Q: How did you start working in the field of wines?

A: Out of passion. When I was five years old I used to help my grandfather bottle wines and… that’s where my mania for “the nectar of Bacchus” started.

Q: What was or what is the biggest obstacle you’ve had to/have to overcome in your work?

A: The incompetence that reigns sovereign over many “experts in the field.” I’m referring to those restaurants and barmen who chose a wine based only on its notoriety or price.

Q: What’s your philosophy on wine? By that I mean: how do you work, who are the producers you work with, what sets you apart from others in your field?

A: I personally choose wines made by “small producers,” almost always unknown to the media. I deal with denominations (denominazioni) of notable origin, made by excellent producers who are often still complete “unknowns.” I love working with someone who makes 30,000 bottles of a quality wine that dreams are made of, rather than 1,000,000 bottles of medium-level quality.

With respect to my competitors, I differentiate myself because by choice, I don’t sell famous brands, but rather “niche” wines. I’ve chosen the path of non-devotion to the celebrated super-famous wines, which are hardly ever truly extraordinary, unless you’re talking about their price.

I try to discover enological jewels and to tell their story to true wine lovers, meaning those who don’t buy wine with a guide in their hand, but who are gifted with critical capability and feeling. And those who trust my judgement, obviously! I like to surprise my clients and ignite their curiosity with my definition of what constitutes a good new wine. My competetive advantage is often better quality at a lower price.

Q: For someone who doesn’t know anything about wine, but would like to start somewhere, what’s your advice?

A: I suggest they sign up for a course held by a qualified professional, for example in Italy I’m referring to something like a course with the Italian Sommelier’s Association or ONAV (National Organization of Wine Tasters). I think it’s impractical to try to teach yourself. I think in this field it’s essential to start off on the right foot.

Q: In your opinion, how can someone tell a “good wine” without being an expert? What are the characteristics that a person should look for?

A: Above all, I would look for an absence of defects. That means I would try to understand if the wine smells excessively like sulfur dioxide. Do you smell a “stink” of burnt rubber or sulfur? Or if it smells excessively like vinegar. Or if it has really strong notes of wood with hints of vanilla. In this last case we’re in the presence of a misuse of the barriques. In the mouth we’re trying to taste if there’s excessive acidity or if it’s well-blended with the alcohols. A wine-tasting course is useful because it teaches you in just a few hours of lessons how to recognize the values and defects of a wine.

Q: Lots of people think a good wine has to be expensive. Is this true, or is it a false myth?

A: False. In a market economy, a wine’s price is determined exclusively by supply and demand. There are incredible wines that cost little only because they aren’t yet in high demand. And these are the wines that I devote my attention to. That being said, I can maintain that I’ve never drunk an expensive wine (by that I mean more than €50 a bottle) of truly low quality, but medium quality, yes.

Q: What then in your opinion is a reasonable price for a “good” wine, or maybe it’s impossible to say because it always depends on something?

A: Often the price is connected directly to the denomination (DOC) of the wine or the region where it was produced. It’s hard to generalize. I would say that in an enoteca (wine shop) I’m willing to spend €12 for vintage wines and €25 for reserve wines, at least as a jumping-off point.

Here's Eugenio and his lovely girlfriend Mariana with Ale and I on the right (like how my shirt matches the tablecloth and curtains?? I totally planned that, you know) during a once-in-a-lifetime vacation we took last summer to St. Petersburg, Russia. He's a total giveaway: look how he's holding the glass, next to us amateurs! Even though he's holding the glass, he was actually the only one who wouldn't brave trying the "chacha," a gut-burningly strong traditional after-dinner drink (or perhaps anytime drink, for that matter) from the country of Georgia. I remember him saying, "You guys are out of your minds! If I don't see the bottle and I don't know where it comes from, there's no way I'm drinking it. You don't understand how risky that can be!" See what happens when your profession causes you to "know too much"? You miss all the fun! ;-) That is, if you consider swigging the taste equivalent of gasoline and rubbing alcohol "fun." Well, like they say, when in St. Petersburg...

The interview continues in my next post, where we talk about what the heck it means when someone says they “smell tobacco” or “smell grass” in wine, and what you’re really supposed to do when they bring that bottle of wine to the table for you to taste. Stay tuned!

The Neighborhood Knife Sharpener

When I first moved to my neighborhood, every once in a while I would hear someone yelling some word at intervals. I thought it was a name, and this person was calling someone. It sounded like "OOOO TIIIII NOOOO!” I kept thinking: Tino, would you stop getting lost, for God's sake? But it kept happening, with a sort of regularity that I just couldn't make sense of. So I figured maybe it was a crazy person—I mean, how is it possible that the same person yells out the same name every week for the entire neighborhood to hear? As we say here when we have no idea about something: BOH.

One day when I heard it start up and Ale happened to be home, I said to him, “What IS that?”
He said, “Oh, that’s just the arrotino.”
“The WHAT?”
“You know, the guy who sharpens the knives.”

Um, ok. So, there’s this guy, you see. And he goes around my neighborhood to this day on Friday mornings, yelling out “AAA ROOOO TIIIII NOOOO!” in the apparent hope that people will come out of their houses with their knives for him to sharpen. I even read an article on Trastevere that says that people actually lower BASKETS from their windows, full of their knives to sharpen. Besides sounding quite perilous, is that not just a little too quaint, a little too nostalgic, even for my old-fashioned neighborhood? Is it possible?

In doing a bit of research for this post, I have come to learn that I am not the only one puzzled by this most mysterious figure. I myself have only actually seen him once. He rides around on a makeshift bicycle, and when there are knives to sharpen, he flips it over and turns the pedals with his hands to run the wheel that sharpens the knives.

I found some discussions in Italian about this and came up with two photos. Many of the Italians on the forums couldn’t believe that someone had actually captured a traditional arrotino in flesh and blood:



But folks, it doesn’t stop there. There is an even more high-tech version of the arrotino. Once when I understood Italian better, I was over at a friend’s house and heard something coming over a loudspeaker from outside. The piped-through-a-megaphone voice was shouting this: “Donne! E’ arrivato l’arrotino!” Basically it was a recorded voice yelling “Women! The knife sharpener has arrived!” My friends told me it was a classic thing that they had always heard as they were growing up. They said a car with loudspeakers tied to it would slowly drive around to announce "the arrival." They could all recite the recording by heart, word for word, which had me laughing. In fact, I found a hilarious yet very informative blog post that talks about this phenomenon, (unfortunately only in Italian), in which Mr. Diego tells us that the voice says the same thing and is the same man in ALL OF ITALY. It’s a recording and none of the Italians I found online seem to know who this famous man actually is. Does he really exist?

When I first heard it, I thought this whole recording was so incredibly, well, fifties. I mean, come on—did people really go outside to have this guy sharpen their knives? Yelling: "Women!" I’d never even heard of such a thing and was immediately intrigued.

I found an mp3/Flash video file that records the voice. It’s a funny article in Italian asking: Who is the Knife Sharpener? You can listen to it here (if you don't read Italian, click on "avanti" to go through the screens first, to get to the audio file. Even if you don't speak Italian, it's worth a look.) Here’s the translation (very loosely, as I did it myself) of what he says:

Women! The knife sharpener has arrived!
He sharpens knives, scissors, little scissors, silk scissors, prosciutto knives!
Women! The knife sharpener and umbrella repairman has arrived!
We fix umbrellas! The umbrella repairman, women!
We repair gas kitchens! We have replacement parts for gas kitchens!
If you have a gas leak we fix it! If your kitchen smokes, we take the smoke out of your gas kitchen! We work right away! Immediately! The knife sharpener has arrived!

In Mr. Diego’s post, he even mentions “my” arrotino here in Trastevere, one of the last of the traditional knife sharpeners. He asks if nowadays anyone really comes out of their houses with knives and umbrellas, and notes that the “gas kitchen” mentioned on the recording no longer exists. Yet, the omnipresent recording persists. Truth be told, many butchers still utilize this service, and the one time I saw my biking arrotino in action was when he was sharpening knives for the fruit seller in front of my house. These are the things that remind me that Trastevere is probably the only true village left in this big capital city, and I hope that enough people keep lowering baskets full of knives (slowly and carefully, of course, so as to avoid any unfortunate "mishaps") to have my arrotino pedaling along for many years to come.

So, another local mystery, somewhat solved...all that was missing was some evidence that I had actually seen an arrotino in action. Well, I guess the guardian angel of bloggers decided to smile down on me, because, although I had never actually seen one of these cars driving around before, only heard it coming from who knows where...just a few days after I wrote a draft of this post to publish later, I was walking down the street and I heard his native call! I felt like I was spotting an exotic animal on an urban jungle safari. I struggled with my camera: hurry, hurry, he's coming this way! And in the end, I got it. Not very exciting, I grant you, and I'm quite convinced that the arrotino himself thought I was either out of my mind or a very confused tourist (um, the Colosseum is THAT way) but still, proof that the elusive figure known as the arrotino does still exist. And his car's not all that shabby, either. Business must be good in the umbrella-repairing field lately. It is raining today, after all.

Sidewalk Masterpieces

Today I’d like to introduce you to another neighborhood personality. His name is Amadeo, and he is the only sidewalk artist I know. You can't see him that well because I wanted to get the mural into the photo, and the sidewalk was narrow and full of people, making it really hard to get a decent picture.

As with any big city, in Rome there are a lot of people who will ask you for money on the street. Some are street performers, some play music on public transport and come around asking for money, some wash windshields or shine headlights, and some simply hold out a cup. Some are intrusive, others are innocuous.

Early on when I moved to Rome, after seeing all this, I quickly made a personal rule to never give money to any of them. It’s not that I wanted to be stingy; I actually consider myself a pretty generous person. It’s just that there are so many of them: how to distinguish who is more in need, and who isn’t? For me it was impossible, so the best policy was just not giving to anyone.

Well, I have to say that all that changed shortly after I started seeing Amadeo, or rather, his sidewalk art. On my walk home from work, I started to notice these colorful murals sketched in chalk on the sidewalk in front of the #8 tram depot. I was always so curious to find out who was sketching them. They seemed like free little gifts, left for us weary workers on our way home after a long day in the office.

Then one day after I started working from home, I walked by in the middle of the day and I saw a man standing by the mural, smiling and trying to chat with passersby. His smile is contagious. Many people glare at him or take pains to try to avoid him as they walk by, writing him off as “one of those crazy street people,” or maybe they are just taken aback by him trying to say hi to them. But I have to say, I was won over by his smile and friendly personality. I’ve never seen him harass people. And above all, I was touched by his artwork, which always has some title that I find very interesting. The one below is called “The Doors of Perception.”

That particular day I had my camera in my purse and since I had recently started my blog, I decided to stop and chat with Amadeo. Like I said, most people walk right by him, annoyed. He was so pleased that someone stopped by to admire his artwork. When I asked if I could take a few photos, he smiled and proudly posed by one of the murals. “Take all the photos you want!” he told me.

I gave him a couple euros, “for chalk,” I told him, and he beamed. I really enjoyed my brief encounter with this artist, and he always draws in the exact same spot: right in front of the end of the line of the #8 tram (just steps away from Caffè Camerino). So, when you’re getting your caffè completo, why not check and see if Amadeo has sketched out a new masterpiece? Maybe he’ll be standing by to give you a smile and a wave.

The Cofffee with Three F's

I’d like to introduce you to my new friends Alessandro and Massimo. They, along with the barista magic they perform on every incredible coffee confection in their bar Cafffè Camerino, are the reasons why Italy will probably be the last and only stronghold that Starbucks won’t succeed in infiltrating. How could the Seattle coffee giant possibly compete against smiling faces like this?

Yes, blogging can be a tough job sometimes, but somebody’s gotta do it. So, I rolled up my sleeves and made the sacrifice for you, dear readers, when I ordered the caffè (cafffè?) completo, a.k.a.: the complete coffee. Oh, and complete it most certainly is. Wanna see?

I can’t take credit for discovering this little slice (drop) of heaven in a cup, made even more heavenly by its price: just 1 euro. No, that honor goes to one of my favorite former students, whose love for Rome drove him to discover the most intriguing hidden gems in the city, among them this. He told me about the caffè completo, and after three years in Rome at the time, I still hadn’t ever heard of it. I've only seen it at this particular bar. It’s like a mini-cappuccino, but better. On the bottom there is, according to Alessandro, “un cremino di cioccolato speciale,” which I think is a chocolate square, and maybe that’s how it starts out in the cup—I’ll never really know because of course it’s one of their trade secrets. By the time it gets to you, it’s a melty chocolate sauce. That’s because they add your espresso on top, along with a dollop of fresh whipped cream and a sprinkling of cacao. Drool.

Maxwell House, you ain’t got nothin’ on Caffè Camerino, because let me tell you that the caffè completo really is good to the last drop. The last desperate spoonful actually, as I scraped the bottom of my cup to capture every bit of that cremino that I possibly could. They took the cup away to prevent me from licking the bottom. That’s just not proper, you see. And since there wasn’t any bread to sop it up, I simply looked on in awe at the remains of what I had just enjoyed.

Now, my blog isn’t exactly The New York Times, even though Massimo told me he got a photo in there too, but my readers are just as special as theirs; Massimo is even going to be looking up my blog so he can print out a copy of my post for Ale, who told me he doesn’t have a computer. Who needs a computer when you’ve got skills like this?

Oh, and in the morning? Don’t miss their delectable cornetto ai ceriali, a whole-grain croissant with warm honey inside. Double drool. Plus, when Christmas rolls around, they are really the best place to get an amazing assortment of panettone and pandoro Italian Christmas cakes (hey, maybe that will merit a return trip).

Folks, when in Rome, do as the Romans do and try "il caffè con tre effe." Why three F’s? I have no idea. Maybe because it’s just so F-ing good! (Oh, come on, I just couldn’t resist…)

Cafffè Camerino
Largo Arenula 30

Fabio: My Bionic Supercousin

Folks, I've been keeping a secret from you. My Roman cousin, Fabio, is a superhero not unlike Spiderman. If you think I'm kidding, at the end of this post I will provide you with audio-visual proof.

If you've been following my adopted Roman family tree, Fabio is Dario's brother. You'll remember Dario, the aspiring actor who had his 15 minutes of fame on the movie set? Needless to say, I am marrying into an extraordinary famiglia.

Have any of you ever heard of parkour? The Wikipedia article defines it like this:

Parkour is a physical discipline inspired by human movement, focusing on uninterrupted, efficient forward motion over, under, around and through obstacles (both man-made and natural) in one's environment. Such movement may come in the form of running, jumping, climbing and other more complex techniques. The goal of parkour is to adapt one's movement to any given obstacle.

I didn't know this existed as a sport until Fabio started doing it. I guess holding the title of world champion in Kung Fu sword fighting wasn't enough. (I think he held this title more than once, actually). So, quite the phenomenon, my little cugino.

Fabio just got back from NYC where he did a parkour exhibition and also shot a special for MTV. I think he might even appear in an Adidas commercial, or there was talk of a sponsorship deal. Parkour originated in France and apparently hasn't really taken off yet in the States, so it was good timing for his trip. I was told that the New Yorkers, generally known for their fearlessness in underground and extreme urban subcultures, told Fabio he was the craziest of them all. This was to be taken as quite the compliment! Bravo cuginetto!!

So, without further ado, I invite you to watch these videos, and judge for yourself whether or not Spiderman has come to life on the outskirts of Rome.

Music to My Ears

I live above a restaurant. What this basically means is that, as long as the weather is nice, I get serenaded about 2-4 times daily. It’s usually twice at lunch and twice at dinner. This seems charming the first time. But it’s been about 5 years now, and I can tell you: they only have about 3 songs in their entire repertoire. I’m not complaining. But you can set a watch by it, and I think by now I could sing all the words to “Besame Mucho” in my sleep. (Why is a song in Spanish one of the 3? I don’t know.)

And not only music, my friends. There is also a mago (magician) in a shiny red suit and top hat, who is my absolute personal neighborhood favorite. He walks around with an electronic bullhorn that he uses to periodically interrupt his magic show with the following (sung):
“A-Oh, A-Oh, Na Na Na Oh.”

Gotta get a picture of him for you one of these days. His “tricks” consist of: a plastic magic wand that a plastic flower pops out of; a Plexiglas box that, when tapped with a magic plastic bone, produces silk handkerchiefs; and a tie that, when stroked, stands on end. But I digress, and this is a G-rated blog (his show is full of “subtle innuendo”). Whenever I see the mago on the streets of my neighborhood, I start singing his catch phrase and he is always kind enough to raise the bullhorn and give me a “shout out.” Love that guy. He once told us he even does weddings (mental note to self: book mago). But he only stops by “our” restaurant once in a blue moon. I guess he has other hot spots in the neighborhood that pay better.

Last summer there was an opera singer. He came by every lunchtime and dinnertime and started up with “O Sole Mio,” completely a cappella. Now that takes guts. So, this was OK, until some neighbor of mine, who to this day remains anonymous, decided he (or she) had had just about enough. Thus began the street war of the opera singer versus the CD of Italian lullabies. It was a bitter feud. Every time Mr. Opera came by, he’d manage only a few notes before Mr. Lullaby put in his CD and cranked up his incredibly powerful stereo system full blast, drowning out “Sannnnnta Cecccilllliaaa” with “Cuckoo! Cuckoo!” and about a half-hour more of children’s music sung in Italian by an overly enthusiastic woman. I think Mr. Lullaby won in the end, because I seldom see Mr. Opera anymore, although he was back about a month ago, for a while, and no children’s music came from any windows…so maybe he’s got his courage back.

Currently there’s a 3-man band that stops by, complete with a bass fiddle. They play some rousing tune and every few beats or so chime in harmony: “OH! CHA CHA!” The dining crowds go wild for them. I continue to hear their bass fiddle in my sleep.

My guests have never complained, probably because it is charming if you’re only here for a few days, and it’s never past about 10 pm, so it never interferes with anyone’s beauty sleep. Plus, my side of the neighborhood isn’t really even the touristy side, so relatively speaking, I don’t get too many entertainers. But if you live here, it does lend a certain “My house must have been built on a stage” atmosphere to your surroundings.

Well, with all this talk about street performers under my very window, how could I not share today’s lunchtime serenade with you? Here was our run-of-the-mill accordion player, bravely avoiding the mini traffic jam that piled up on my cobblestone street, when a mini Italian garbage truck passed through. Ready to sing along?

The Sandwich Doctors

That friendly face is Fabio, one half of the fantastic two-man team at the Isola del Panino. Delightfully dubbed “the sandwich doctors” by the students I used to work with, because of the white lab coats they don when they get down to work in their panino laboratory.

Isola del Panino (Sandwich Island) was born about two years ago in the area of Largo Argentina. It was a genius concept: make sandwiches, lots of them, and cheap. Yes, I know: there are snack bars everywhere, overflowing with panini and tramezzini, you say. But, allow me to tell you why I think the sandwich doctors are far superior to a mere bar.

1) A little haven of civilization in the crazy Roman world of elbowing to get to the front of the non-existent line. Please take note of the photo below:

Do you notice anything out of the ordinary? Look closely.

Yes, it is precisely the presence of an electronic numbering system. This may seem petty and insignificant to many of you, but if you live in Rome, you know how frustrating it can be that lines don’t exist, and when they do, some people feel completely entitled to blatantly cut in front of you. This phenomenon has so permeated my very being that the last time I was back in the States, waiting in line to pay for something, I saw a woman out of the corner of my eye getting close to me, and I physically shifted where I was standing to subtly block her from cutting me in line. Then, I came to my senses and realized that I was no longer in Rome, therefore, could rest assured that people would politely take their turn.

So, when Fabio and his partner Sergio installed the numbering system after about a month or two of total and complete mayhem at lunch hour, I was incredibly impressed. What a bold move in this world of line-cutters! In fact, the reaction of the newbies upon entering the shop for the first time is quite interesting. Many scoff at the fact that they have to “take a number,” but Fabio and Sergio are democratic strongholds in their world of sandwich-making.

2) The cost of a sandwich at Isola is a mere €2,30.

It used to be €2 when they first opened. The bar across the street, last time I checked, was charging no less than €10 (nearly $13) for “American breakfast,” consisting of: coffee, orange juice, and toast with jam. Let’s face it: in the historic center of Rome, the tourist is like an animal during hunting season, practically walking around with a flashing neon bull’s-eye posted on his forehead. In a sea of hungry hunters, Isola is a safe haven of honest service.

3) The panini are yummy!

Made to order, you choose the bread, the meat, the toppings: folks, it’s practically the Italian version of Subway, without the eyeball-scorching yellow. Or, you can order one of the many sandwiches ready to go in the display case. Sergio even speaks English because he lived in Australia for a while.

Take a look, then stop in and say hi. You just might see Fabio hanging out front, ready to perform sandwich surgery in his white lab coat.

Charcoal, Propane Tanks, and Soccer Balls

In my quest to bring you a look at the lively and interesting characters in my neighborhood, I’d like to introduce Ascenzo. (Ah-shen-so) He runs this little shop called “Spaccio Carbone.” It’s a pretty old-fashioned name, for a pretty old-fashioned shop. It means something like “coal dealer.” When I stopped to chat with him the other evening, he proudly handed me his business card, which states that he sells: bombole (propane tanks), kerosene, carbone (charcoal), and legna (wood). All of which is true. But just look at this picture! The man has just about everything stuffed into this little corner of history.

When I asked Ascenzo how many years he’s been working in his little shop, he stopped for a moment, did a bit of math on his fingers, and then proclaimed in his super scratchy yet very jovial voice: “Cinnnnquannntaaaa duuuuueee …. (fiffffftttttyyyy twwwooooo)… assspetttta! (Wait!) Cinnnnquaannnnttaaa ssssseiiiii… (fifty-six).”

That’s really something. The man has seen it all. He knew Vincenzo, Alessandro’s grandfather who ran the restaurant downstairs in the days of “La Dolce Vita.” Every day I see Ascenzo sitting in his little chair, either reading the newspaper or doing crossword puzzles. I love it. Just the simple act of always seeing him there gives me this great sense of stability and community. He is one of my favorite neighborhood people. Quiet, humble, and sincere.

I remember when I had first moved into the neighborhood about 4 years ago, barely spoke Italian and in desperate need of clothespins. (Can you be in desperate need of clothespins? For me in the beginning, without much Italian, every need seemed a bit desperate.) I walked into his little shop and used my golden phrase in Italian: “I don’t know how to say this in Italian, but…” and then proceeded with hand gestures and my limited vocabulary to describe the act of hanging out clothes to dry. Not only did he give me a mini-Italian lesson (pinze, people, pinze), he told me all about some family members he has, living in Philadelphia. He even gave me a free bar of “rose-scented” soap, patting my hand and telling me, “This is so you’ll be a happy customer and come back again sometime.”

He was overjoyed that I wanted to take this picture. Afterwards, you should have seen the look on his face when I showed it to him on the digital camera screen. Delighted. I didn’t go into explaining the idea of a blog… some things are just better left unsaid.

As I walked away, he called out: “Remember, if you ever need anything… just let me know… and please, come over and buy something once in a while… help me out…”

When you make it over to Trastevere, go by and see Ascenzo. He’s on Via della Luce 68, near the crossroad with Via della Lungaretta. I’m sure you’ll find something you could use in his shop. Maybe you can even help him with his crossword puzzle.

Rome As I See It

Because even gladiators have to eat once in a while...

11:42 am, seen outside the Metro Colosseo stop

Saturday Sightseeing

Buon sabato! A couple of photos to give you an idea of where I'm coming from, and the colorful characters you'll find here in my neighborhood, Trastevere.

This here is Giancarlo, waiter extrordinaire at the restaurant next to my front door. He speaks a little of just about every language imaginable, and has been a waiter the world over, from Los Angeles to Belgium. Sometimes he takes to wearing a name tag that says "Chef" (don't ask).

Did you think I was kidding when I said "restaurant next to my front door"? I was not. We don't ever really eat at this restaurant, even though it was once owned by Alessandro's grandfather (and still bears his name, Vincenzo). It's not that the food isn't edible, but it is a bit of a tourist trap. Let me tell you though, when that rare McDonald's craving hits (yes, I am guilty, please don't hate me), I take great pains to hide the massive shopping bag they give you when reentering my apartment. I always wonder if the diners think I'm crazy: you live in Rome, yet you go to McDonald's? Only once in a blue moon, promise.

Now, if you were to turn around, you would see this, the "Antica Frutteria." It is run by Piero (man in the green shirt helping the ladies pick their fruit and veggies), his son Andrea, and their little dog Nano (unfortunately not pictured here!). We sometimes call it the fruit boutique because it is a bit pricey, but Piero is an interesting character and a valuable source of neighborhood info. He is the eyes and ears of my street and pretty much knows everything about everyone. They are from Sardegna and just opened back up recently after the summer holidays, but this photo was taken before summer.

Last but not least. Now, of course you are wondering, what in the world does shortbread and whiskey have anything to with Rome? Well, it doesn't, really. Except that every once in a while I get really lucky and my guests spoil me by bringing me a little present. Such luck occurred last night when some lovely guests from Perthshire in Scotland brought me these goodies. (I'm half tempted to visit after seeing where they come from!) No, this is not simply shameless showing off. I am going to use this gift to demonstrate something useful about Rome, just watch!

So, let's say you get to Rome and can't stand the food (highly unlikely, but we are theorizing here). Where do you go to get something from home (ie, shortbread should you be Scottish? See the connection?) Why, Castroni of course! World food market haven for expats.

Buon weekend!