The Neighbours



As you now are aware, we have settled in Aventino. We have made a “Google Maps” map that marks our abode and Ian’s office – (apologies that earlier versions of this post left you in limbo but) the reference is:

http://maps.google.com/maps/ms?ie=UTF8&hl=en&msa=0&msid=115571076803304747106.00044cc76915ffaf6874f&z=17

Click that and you should go to Google Maps and to our marked map. Then click on satellite and you will get a great view.

In our apartment building there are clearly some other people but we do not see or hear from them much. A couple of people above us frequently seem to come home very late, walk around and listen to music – but they are not really a problem. A young woman and a German Shepherd reside in the basement. The other apartment on our level, owned by our landlady, is being renovated – has been for some months now. The builders have been a headache and she has sacked a few. The latest “sackee” was quite enthusiastic and made a small hole in our living room with his coal chisel – mistakes happen – “Eh!”

We look out over three sides of the building (from the first floor) – with pleasant gardens to the north and east, and a tall apartment building blocking out much of the street noise about twenty metres to the south. The western sun is blocked by the other apartment and stairwell on our floor.

To enter our flat we negotiate three doors – one to the street, one shared with the next-door unit and our own door. We don’t have a terrace but we are very secure. From the door next to the street, about ten steps down our marble spiral staircase, we can see two churches within 200 metres and there are at least another three further up the hill. Our street rubbish bins are 50 metres up the street on our side – blue for bottles, glass and plastic, white for paper and green for general rubbish. We have never forgotten to put the bin out – it’s always out.

Turning left outside our door, we walk past the entrance to the nearby apartment building, veer left past the service station, dodging puddles of oil on the cobblestones and the traffic. The servo does not have any clear start or ending and just “merges” with Via di Santa Prisca. So on weekday mornings, as the rat-runners whiz up the street, and as others jockey for a place at the servo pumps, and as the mechanics and customers wheel and deal for the day’s repairs, we blissfully stroll around and on the roadway with an eye to the on-coming vehicles.

That obstacle behind us we are then on Viale Aventino, a broad avenue that runs from its intersection with Via di Santa Prisca to the Circo Massimo (and to my office). Probably six lanes wide, Viale Aventino is in three parts. A central corridor is a busway and tramway with raised platforms where the buses and trams stop. Only two bus routes run through this centre path along with taxis and limousines and ambulances and police cars. Oh! And some Romans in a hurry and prepared to break the rules. Other buses take the two lanes either side of this central “divider”, along with the bulk of other vehicles – mostly small cars and “motos”.

At the traffic lights, the motos manouvre until they are near the front and when “the flag drops”, the throttles twist and with a massed whine, but not much speed, this herd of vespas moves in a wobbling, but unstoppable cloud across the intersection.

As a pedestrian, one has choices. Those with death wishes jaywalk. The careful and patient find the remnants of paint that used to mark zebra crossings and cross (basically jaywalk). Or there are some pedestrian lights, some automatic, some requiring a button push. The green, amber and red symbols (or sometimes the “avante” and “stop”) are interesting. When green goes to amber, the Roman gets to guess how long will elapse before the red. If misjudged, he or she finds themselves in front of the whining vespas. A lot of ineffectual horn tooting results, some uniquely Roman hand gestures and a fair amount of “Eh!”ing.

So we walk towards the city, past a small pizzeria, and alimentaire, and currently some delightful hedges of star jasmine in full perfume. Onwards are three bars (coffee and alcohol) with street-side tables, the supermercado, a ristorante, a pharmacy, two hairdressers, an antique restorer, a moto dealer, and a lot of other places that we are yet to really work out. Around the corner, with the UN flag fluttering to our right, we are on Via del Circo Massimo and we are walking along the valley between our Aventine hill and the Palantine hill, past the Metro station (Circo Massimo).

To our left is Rome’s rose garden, currently open due to the climax of this year’s international competition and looking a picture. Up the hill from the garden, we come to a road that runs past three old churches and two parks, one of which is the popular “Orange Garden” with its spectacular views over the Tiber. The most distant of the churches has a connection with the Order of Malta and a Maltese Cross flag. It also has a “spy-hole” in a gate that enables the viewer a “peak” at St Peter’s Basilica in the distance. Usually, the tourists are lined up to look through this hole. Santa Sanselmo also has a delightful gift shop with all sorts of treasures, some of which have a religious angle to them. The church is well guarded by the Carabineri due to its neighbour being the Arab Republic of Egypt’s embassy.

There a couple of very sweet (very expensive) hotels on the hill and a range of apartments, villas and convents running down to our home. The Aventine hill has an air of serenity to it, even at its base where we live. Although we tend to walk into the Centro historico, or old city, we are well supplied by buses and metros. We have been attending some great private dinners at colleagues’ apartments across Rome lately and find little difficulty in getting around, with only one cab needed.

A certain lack of clarity on our part led the driver to want to take his two “gringos” to the Hotel di Santa Prisca rather than to Via di Santa Prisca. A certain outrage on our part that we were being taken for anything other than residents, but a certain lack of enthusiasm (and Italino) to argue the point … it was a nice night so we got out and walked the last kilometre home. After all, it is a nice neighbourhood.

A somewhat unusual blog this time – we are coming to you from the north of England – northern Yorkshire in fact. We have settled into our final Rome residence, but more about that at some future blog.

My office had a four day weekend including May Day, so we took the opportunity to travel to visit Lachlan and Emily. We flew into Liverpool (John Lennon Airport) and drove a "renta" the two or so hours to beautiful Skipton. This is a significant market town, a centre for the district, not far from the well-known tourist haunt of Bolton Abbey.

Photo: The scene of a Turner painting - and reputed to be the most beautiful view in England ("and hence - the world") near Kirkby Lonsdale and "Ruskin's Walk"

Our expectations of this part of the world (given we had never before been to the north of England) were far exceeded – had a delightful time. First, of course, we saw L & M again. They are just great and seem really very happy and well settled. But we were also the tourists, on this Spring weekend that is notable for Skipton as the “water festival”. You see Skipton is connected to Liverpool (and the rest of England) by the Liverpool-Skipton canal, so this weekend the canal boats gather at Skipton and there is a carnival atmosphere with crowds of people, decorated boats and street entertainment and partying.

On Thursday night we walked through he woods around the castle with Lachlan and had our first taste of the dry-stone walls that enclose the fields, the sheep, and the wildflowers (especially the blue-bells).

Lach worked at nearby Settle on Friday so we drove him there in the early morning and went on to the Lakes District, eventually finishing beyond Lake Windermere – so many stunning views. After pick up he took us via the scenic route through the dales and moors to the “Tarn” or lake/loch.

Photo: Skipton Castle and the Keep

On Saturday we pottered about and went through the Skipton Castle before driving to Bolton Abbey for a short “bush walk”. The weather was glorious and the locals were our on the banks of the river in force, barbequing and swimming (at least the brave few swam).

The blue skies and warm conditions could not last and Sunday was cold and damp, but it did not stop us walking to church and venturing out to see the canal boats and activities. Pub food does wonders for one’s outlook on life.

Skipton enjoys street markets on four days of the week in the High Street in addition to many interesting and varied permanent shops. This is James Herriot country and it is not hard to translate the present habits with the “all Creatures Great and Small” narratives.

Photo: Bolton Priory

So, as an avid collector of peculiar hats from all parts of the world, I made some very good purchases from the market – a “county hat” (the standard peaked cap), a “trilby” and a “deer stalker”. Why would Ian purchase a deer-stalker? Elementary my “deer” Watson! One never knows when one is confronted by a stag, or a night out playing “Cluedo”.

So our photos this time are all English. Must toddle off now – almost tea time.