First impressions of Rome
Rome. A city that never sleeps, but always chills. A city filled with thousand tourists with open mouths and disposable cameras, a city where the quantity of churches exceeds the quantity of supermarkets and probably even cafes. A city where no one speaks English. Ok, last statement is not completely true, but I have to admit that of all the places I’ve been in, Rome is the one with the smallest amount of those who do speak English. That complicates my life just a little bit since io non parlol’Italiano. But later about that.
Rome is a big surprise to me, because everything that I’ve heard about Italy is just so wrong. People here are open, joyful, eager to please, helpful, passionate, not irritating, which was my greatest fear – I thought that every person in Rome would cross the border of my comfort zone, scream something in my face with his hands all around the planet. I’m glad that I was wrong, since I’ll have to spend here almost a year of my life.
I came to Rome some time ago to study in Conservatorio di Santa Cecilia, but my first two weeks had nothing to do with that, I was in a 100% “tourist mode” – walked km around the city, just to enjoy a place where every tiny bit of the ground is made of two thousand years of history, to see all the must sees with my own two eyes, to check out the most important places that all intelligent people go to (cause I’m all so full of it, would be a shame to tell my friends that “Ahh, no, haven’t seen the Colosseo…”).
I remember one thing my mom said before I left to Rome, that I should pack my bag carefully, because it is a city of well dressed woman, I thought – what the hell, I’m going here to study, not to shine with my nonexistent pack of popular labeled dresses, and what a surprise – I was right, Rome is full with hipsters, but I guess nobody calls them that here. Although fashion shops are not a rare thing here – on one street you can find 3 ZARAs, 2 H&Ms, 2 Piazza Italias and etc. But the most fashionable place here is THE market, that is on… every metro station, every square, every single street that has some free space and people that might buy something, and by something I mean everything – from small electronic gadgets to furs, from bicycles to Louis Vuitton bags, underwear, jeans etc. Now I know where these girls in their 14ns get all this fancy stuff, 5 Euros per bag – who wouldn’t like that.
I’m going to write a lot of different things about Rome and my time here, I’m going to share it because maybe you would even find something useful or interesting in all my posts, I’m not sure, only wiki knows everything about everything, but I guess a “real life” experience could be handy for some. At least I’ll have something to rely on when I’m old and grey and I have to prove to my grandchildren that it is true, been there seen that. Anyway, some first impressions on Rome. I’m not a photographer, so don’t judge my skills too harshly.
I love your post! Keep it up please, and have a nice stay in Rome.
awesome post! I look forward to more
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Letters To The Roman Friend
From Martial
Now is windy and the waves are cresting over
Fall is soon to come to change the place entirely.
Change of colors moves me, Postum, even stronger
Than a girlfriend while she’s changing her attire.
Maidens comfort you but to a certain limit —
Can’t go further than an elbow or a kneeline.
While apart from body, beauty is more splendid —
An embrace is as impossible as treason.
I’m sending to you, Postum-friend, some reading.
How’s the capital? Soft bed and rude awakening?
How’s Caesar? What’s he doing? Still intriguing?
Still intriguing, I imagine, and engorging.
In my garden, I am sitting with a night-light
No maid nor mate, not even a companion
But instead of weak and mighty of this planet,
Buzzing pests in their unanimous dominion.
Here, was laid away an Asian merchant. Clever
Merchant was he — very diligent yet decent.
He died suddenly — malaria. To barter
Business did he come, and surely not for this one.
Next to him — a legionnaire under a quartz grave.
In the battles, he brought fame to the Empire.
Many times could have been killed! Yet died an old brave.
Even here, there is no ordinance, my dear.
Maybe, chicken really aren’t birds, my Postum,
Yet a chicken brain should rather take precautions.
An empire, if you happened to be born to,
better live in distant province, by the ocean.
Far away from Caesar, and away from tempests
No need to cringe, to rush or to be fearful,
You are saying procurators are all looters,
But I’d rather choose a looter than a slayer.
Under thunderstorm, to stay with you, hetaera, —
I agree but let us deal without haggling:
To demand sesterces from a flesh that covers
is the same as stripping roofs of their own shingle.
Are you saying that I leak? Well, where’s a puddle?
Leaving puddles hasn’t been among my habits.
Once you find yourself some-body for a husband,
Then you’ll see him take a leak under your blankets.
Here, we’ve covered more than half of our life span
As an old slave, by the tavern, has just said it,
«Turning back, we look but only see old ruins».
Surely, his view is barbaric, but yet candid.
’ve been to hills and now busy with some flowers.
Have to find a pitcher, so to pour them water.
How’s in Libya, my Postum, or wherever?
Is it possible that we are still at war there?
You remember, friend, the procurator’s sister?
On the skinny side, however with those plump legs.
You have slept with her then… she became a priestess.
Priestess, Postum, and confers with the creators.
Do come here, we’ll have a drink with bread and olives —
Or with plums. You’ll tell me news about the nation.
In the garden you will sleep under clear heavens,
And I’ll tell you how they name the constellations.
Postum, friend of yours once tendered to addition,
Soon shall reimburse deduction, his old duty…
Take the savings, which you’ll find under my cushion.
Haven’t got much but for funeral — it’s plenty.
On your skewbald, take a ride to the hetaeras,
Their house is right by the town limit,
Bid the price we used to pay — for them to love us —
They should now get the same — for their lament.
Laurel’s leaves so green — it makes your body shudder.
Wide ajar the door — a tiny window’s dusty —
Long deserted bed — an armchair is abandoned —
Noontime sun has been absorbed by the upholstery.
With the wind, by sea point cape, a boat, is wrestling.
Roars the gulf behind the black fence of the pine trees.
On the old and wind-cracked bench — Pliny the Elder.
And a thrush is chirping in the mane of cypress.
Joseph Brodsky