My Italian Friends. Walking around the familiar cobblestone streets of Rome for the first time upon my return, I felt like I was back among old friends. Ah, Roma.
I ran into these little guys in one of my favorite piazzas in Rome. They were giggling and running together around the base of a circular fountain. It was like a Fiat commercial.
My first day back was a brand new adventure. In some ways, like I’d never been here before. I spent the better part of my first day here walking around. Had to — otherwise, I would have crashed. Like a shark.
I am living in a different neighborhood — Trastevere. It is kind of like Rome’s Brooklyn. Across a bridge over the Tiber, where many old Roman families live. And, where artists and families have settled.
First thing I did when I arrived. Trip to the local bar — for a cup of Italian black gold — un caffe.
My Italian is much better than I thought, even feared, it would be. My landlords — an Italian woman and her boyfriend from the United Arab Emirates (it used to be his apartment when he was an artist and student) were impressed anyway.
The city is plastered with Pace banners and graffiti about the war. Not in my name, screamed one. Hmmm — in inglese — well, I guess we know who their audience is. Or, the writer.
This is a very short dispatch, reflective only of day one in Rome. There is much more to come.
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