calcio (italy 1- me 1)

Here in Rome, through a friend I was lucky enough to be invited a couple of times to join a game of 5-a-side calcio (a.k.a soccer, a.k.a football) played on a small AstroTurf pitch at a local club in the suburbs. Kicking the ball around with a team of Italians yelling at you in Italian and not really knowing what they were saying or what I was doing proved to be highly entertaining, and it was refreshing to get a taste of real Italy. My team lost the first match, however we won the second due no doubt to my incredible skills and coordination with a round ball. I’m sure if you asked my team mates they would all agree. I decided to retire from my illustrious Italian football career on a high but not before losing a couple of toenails and relinquishing my Adidas sponsorship after throwing out my shoes. The pain was short-lived once we hit the local communist club post-match for some cheap food, beer, wine and whatever else commies do at commie places.

piccolo teatro

For the last month, from the window of my apartment I, along with what appeared to be pedestrian traffic, have been witnessing what I thought was an ongoing neighborhood argument between the owner of a bar and a woman living in the apartment above complaining about the noise. After seeing the woman throw a bucket of water out the window several times over, it was becoming a little bit like groundhog day. I decided to venture down and investigate. It turns out I was watching the start of some Roman performance art – the bar is actually a little theatre, the onlookers the audience, and the woman and owner the characters in a play based on Don Juan and his conquests. Once I had established this I was instantly intrigued and a little bit scared. I bought a ticket.

The theatre named Piccolo Teatro Campo d’Arte, is located just off Campo dei Fiori in Via dei Cappellari. From the street it is just a door. After entering you descend via a narrow candle-lit staircase into an intricate network of World War 2 bunker-like spaces that could probably accommodate no more than 12 people each.

The play itself called Le Dissolute Assolte, was the most curious and interesting thing I have witnessed in Rome so far. The sets were intricate, the dialogue difficult to understand, the costumes burlesque, and the women extraordinary and beautiful. We were ushered through the story by our host and main character, Don Juan, via pitch-black tunnels joining the dimly-lit spaces together, in each of which a different woman waited for the audience to arrive. It was fascinating. The final scene took place in a tiny little bar and as the play was extremely intimate lending itself to interactivity, we all drank and played a role in the story. Once the play was over we applauded the actors and then they joined us for a drink and a review. I probably understood only twenty five percent of the dialogue but I think I go more out of the experience than anyone else, perhaps for that very reason.

della palma gelato

If a shop in Rome doesn’t sell pizza, it sells gelato. I wouldn’t be surprised if this is enforced by law. Earlier in the year I received a tip-off that the best gelato in Rome and the world for that matter isn’t found at one of the more popular gelaterie (that need not be named here) listed in guidebooks  – it’s found at Della Palma. Yeah that’s right. Della Palma. I can now release the results of my investigation: DELLA PALMA HAS THE BEST GELATO IN THE WORLD.

Just off the main piazza where the Pantheon sits, you can choose from its 150+ flavours of this irresistibly cold food. They also sell fantastic pastries, coffee and candies. This little baby you see below is Limoncello, Pistachio and Frutta del Bosco (Fruit of the Forest). Della Palma can also be found in my other favourite city too – NYC. Look it up if you are in the area.

Gelato…an essential ingredient in every “Roman Holiday” (sorry)

palazzo massimo alle terme

One of the much lesser known Classical Roman art galleries in Rome is the Palazzo Massimo alle Terme. Housed in a palace located next to Roma Termini train station, this gallery lives in the shadows of the Vatican, Villa Borghese and all the other over-subscribed tourist attractions, yet displays an interesting collection (even for non-aficionados like myself) that is worthy of the same attention given to the bigger names.

To escape the crowds and heat for a couple of hours, head to the Palazzo and find yourself alone in cool, light-filled rooms occupied by Greek inspired bronze and marble sculptures, mosaics and frescoes dating back to the 2nd century BC.

big mama

Rome can be a lonely place at night if you are here alone. Thousands of people around you but no one to talk to or hold you at night. So I thought I would pay Big Mama a little visit. No this isn’t heading where you think it is.

Big Mama is a blues and jazz club located in a cramped basement in Trastevere. Picture me sitting at the end of the bar, no job, no friends, nowhere to go, doing shots of grappa and listening to Italy’s answer to John Lee Hooker. It wasn’t quite like that. The band were Italian but I didn’t do any shots and they belted out, very well I must add, the best of The Beatles. Ferris Bueller would have been envious. I’m pretty sure they learned the lyrics by ear and didn’t quite understand what they were singing. But then I didn’t understand the support band’s explanations in between each Beatles song that they covered. And the explanations went on longer than the songs themselves. How the lyrics “Baby you can drive my car” requires a 10 minute explanation is beyond me. Italians like to talk.

Anyway…for 15 Euro you can buy an annual membership to Big Mama, and the drinks are quite reasonable. You can also buy a novel one of the guitarists has written, from the cloakroom. Italians also love a plug. So far I have only been once but I will be working that membership card ’til there’s nothing left.

roma – prima impressione

I’ve been in Rome for a week now. This is not the first time I have been to this wonderful city but I don’t remember it like this. I may be getting ahead of myself but I have fallen head over heels in love. I think I know why too. It’s not the Colosseum, the Vatican, the Roman Forum or any other one of Rome’s headline acts that I am yet to visit. The other day someone gave me a bike and I rode to the top of Giancolo just above Trastevere and took the photo you now see at the top of my site. You can take a photo in virtually any direction wherever you stand in Rome and it will look like a postcard. Its so ridiculous I’ve actually given up. A few days ago some new friends drove me out to their humble home and we shared some of the best Italian food and wine I have tasted. Yesterday I sat on the marble stairs of a fountain in the sun, watching the swarms of tourists push their way into the Pantheon whilst I ate a panchetta panino and sipped from a can of Peroni.

It’s the simplicity in such a shambolic city that I have fallen in love with. I may be coming from an extremely privileged position – I am not here to work or get involved in the politics of this country – but the purity of Rome, extracted from all its chaos the way I am choosing to do, is utterly irresistible.

If you visit Rome don’t stay in a hotel. Find an apartment in a little lane somewhere in Centro Storico (Historical Centre). From around 5 O’clock take some time out from your relentless sight-seeing for aperitif – a tradition that allows you to sit at a lively bar in a postcard piazza and buy a drink whilst sampling the food for free. Not too dissimilar to Spain’s tapas tradition. You can pick up your current read, stumble across an empty space and sit in the sun trying not to get distracted by the beauty (I think I read the same page 7 times before giving up). If you need respite from the noise then catch a train to one of the many impossible clifftop towns an hour or so out of Rome, or go for a run around one of Rome’s lovingly nurtured parks. Just don’t rush Rome. Take the time to live like a Roman. Yes its an old cliché but there’s a reason for it.

italiano intensivo

So I have commenced my primary function here in Rome, that of attending Italian language classes. I have chosen to undertake the ‘Intensivo’ option to give my learning the shock treatment it needs. Intensivo consists of between 3-4 hours of class a day, 5 days a week for 4 weeks. This is my story:

Day 1 was not without it’s quirks. I arrived at the school to find it situated in a grand old building that could easily be mistaken for a foreign embassy. I climbed up the giant marble staircase and into the school office to announce my presence, armed only with what I like to refer to as ‘Robot Italian’. This is where I go over and over in my head what I need to say, then deliver it, convincing the recipient that I have a reasonable grasp of the language. They proceed to begin a conversation and I just stare back at them blankly having no idea what has just gone down. Anyway…they handed me a placement test to determine my level. That particular day I was having a really off day. I’m not sure if it was a pizza hangover and my brain was filled with cheese, but I ended up failing the test and being placed in an elementary class alongside a Korean hip hop posse of 17 year olds, a Peruvian nun and some Russian defectors. In total there were around 30 students in the class which is not ideal for learning languages. And its funny how no matter where you are in the world and how old the people are, put them in a classroom in those seats with the little half desk half arm rest things sticking out, and people misbehave. Call me a nerd, TP, whatever, but I am not here to listen to a bunch of kids yapping away whilst a Peruvian nun stares them down as the teacher continually tells them to stop talking. I needed to take action and pronto.

Back to school

Day 2 was a lot better. I managed to convince the school (with my meticulously planned Robot Italian, to the extreme where I basically wrote a Choose Your Own Adventure book covering off all the conversation possibilities) that I should be in the next level. I timed this perfectly with my payment – Italians don’t refuse people who are handing them 350 Euro. I’m sure there would have been no problem with moving to the next level, but I like to think I blackmailed them, after all I’m in the land of the Mafioso. I can report that my new class is much better. There are only 10 students and its an eclectically good mix of nationalities and ages. Yes, there’s a nun which is comforting as I missed my little Peruvian friend. The other thing is that I am the only male in the class. Mmm…

le pizze (pt 1)

This is undoubtedly the first of many ‘best pizza in the world’ posts, but just for the record the BEST PIZZA IN THE WORLD can be found at a little place called La Focaccia in the Piazza Navona area of Rome. I’ve always thought taste is somewhat relative to hunger and this little baby tasted the goods. If pizza was an animal I could eat a whole one of them right now. I could eat a whole pizza too…

la pizza a la focaccia

buongiorno roma

arrivato finalmente!

To describe the start of my journey as a bit of a roller coaster ride (maybe a ghost train) is somewhat accurate. But then I wouldn’t expect anything less from me. After unsuccessfully trying to suggest Cathay Pacific upgrade me as birthday present from them to me, and then Desi unsuccessfully requesting that they have a birthday cake waiting for me on the plane, it turned out that the first leg of my flight was half full and extremely pleasant. I had the run of a whole row to myself (it was the bulkhead row too, on a new plane!). The meals were great as was the French wine.

The second leg (which was the one supposed to be good for me according to the check-in lady’s seating plan) was far from it. For 13 hours I was wedged into a corner by a large Italian man who had a sickeningly overpowering stench of man. I ended up with muscle spasms due to fatigue induced by trying to avoid touching him as he spilled over into my seat. To add to that I was consistently the last person to be served on what was an at capacity plane, which meant I didn’t get my choice of meal once…not once. Who would’ve thought Hong Kong to Rome would be a busy sector. Aaah, first world problems. Yep.

Despite this I managed to watch 7 new release films, 3 episodes of Anthony Bourdain’s ‘No Reservations’ and a documentary on The Zuck (a.k.a. Mark Zuckerberg). I have come to the conclusion that flying is exceptionally cheap. Had I watched all this content at the cinema accompanied by my standard boysenberry choctop and Peroni, I would have spend over $200 and it would have taken me weeks, maybe months. Yet I managed to do all this in 24 hours on a plane and end up in a foreign city with a giant suitcase for only 10 times this amount – what a bargain!

To refer to my previous blog (italy 1 – me 0) on what a disaster my mystery hotel deal was developing into, I can confirm my suspicions were correct in terms of the location. I have absolutely no idea where I am as I write these words. The train and taxi rides I strung together to get here from the airport have left me extremely disorientated and exhausted, and the only non Euro-burning way to get to the city centre is via a hotel shuttle bus that runs to the Rail Italia schedule – not on time and frequent strikes, but then again that’s part of the charm of Italy. A bit like an Alfa Romeo actually. The quality of the hotel as it turns out is not so bad after all (but not great – 3.5 star max, not 4). The staff are friendly and the showers are hot. I will point out however, that it has pandered to customer complaints and had a major overhaul in recent months. Basil Fawlty would be rolling in his grave right now (if he were a real person and dead).

I shall not be consumed by location envy however. In 3 days I relocate to a quaint little apartment in Campo dei Fiori, which is “where it’s at” I am told by my dealer. I will then set my sights on locating the best slice of pizza in the world. Stay tuned.