Dal Mio Balcone / From My Balcony

It’s the latest from Rome: all the tidings, ridings, and snidings, straight from my 3rd-floor balcony.

All the eventi well-meant-i, with the best of intenti.

I Made a Garden

Because it’s not a balcony if there are no plants. And because I am an obsessive gardener. And because I have made a garden practically everywhere I have ever lived. Lobelia, Carnations, Primroses, Marigolds, Parsley, Hyacinth.

Now it’s a balcony.

And at least half of this large apartment is now perfumed with the gorgeous scent of hyacinth flowers. It’s like living in a floral greenhouse.

Been Biking!

A local train ride to the outskirts, and a lovely Saturday riverside bike ride with a stop for lunch, with my friends Carlo and Giulia. And cows.

This is new to me — I never stop for lunch. But I could get used to it.

Critical Mass Ride

The monthly Critical Mass bicycle ride in Rome is part of a global effort to reclaim streets from cars, so masses of riders mass together (here in Rome on the last Friday night of each month) and go for a nice slow cruise together.

A lovely event. Lots of bike unity, high spirits, and a chance to see many highlight spots of the city lit up on a mild Spring night.

Apparently, none of the cars in Rome got the memo. Cue: much angry honking. Which we ignored.

I got mail!

Thanks so much to Geneva, Laurie, and Nancy! Bikes and birds! You have no idea how thrilled I was to get these. They are now on display in my living room. The one that smells of heavenly hyacinths.

The Rome Marathon

The Rome Marathon went right past my building. I had been meaning to look up the route, because I knew the event was coming soon. Instead, I looked up from my bed one Sunday morning and saw that the route was coming past my building that very moment! I zipped over to the nearest balcony to watch.

The leaders go by in a microsecond-flash of Kenyan and Ethiopian pride. The rest of the runners you can actually see.

It’s very inspiring to watch a marathon. So much effort, the culmination of months of hard training.

It was early in the route, so many were still running upright and speedily. Next come the joggers and power-walkers, and then the struggling stragglers.

It’s less inspiring to see that after the last walkers and the sweep trucks and the police escorts have gone, the street is a carpet of plastic water bottles.

I could see that there were garbage trucks waaaaay down the street making slow progress, but I could also see that people were tripping and skidding on water bottles. An outrage! My neighbors were in danger!

And I know the word in Italian for trash! It’s spazzatura!

Knowing I could both sweep and handle a conversation, I threw on some pants and headed outside with my broom.

I cleared the nearby walkways, sweeping the bottles into neat curbside piles for the garbage trucks to collect. Then, feeling utterly heroic, I leaned my broom against a wall and bought myself a nice soy cappuccino at Bar Mimmo, and chatted with Francesco, the barman, all about spazzatura.

I got more mail!

Darla and Hillary, thanks and more thanks! I was so happy to get postcards of PA and NJ! They are now in the “Geography” section of the mail display in my hyacinth-scented living room.

It Was The Easter Season

So this happened on the Saturday night a week before the Easter / Pasqua weekend: a singing, sacred procession through my neighborhood, people carrying a large cross and candles, stopping for megaphoned prayers along the way.

I heard the chants and went out on my balcony to see what was up. The procession paused at the market across the street for some prayers, and then at a shrine to Mary which is in a wall nearby, before heading down the street to the local parish church of St. Galla.

This was a week before the observance of Holy Saturday, and the Calendar of Saints Days which came with my kitchen says that this particular Saturday is Le Palme, and that the next day is the Annunciation del Signore, so I have no idea what happened to Palm Sunday around here, but there’s been lots and lots of praying.

The mail keeps coming!

From Richard, Darla and Hillary! These are great, and I thank each of you with the profuseness of the heavenly scent of hyacinths currently wafting through my Roman rooms. And I sent you all emails.

Easter Sunday

I was invited to a lunch for Easter Sunday, so I made this gigantic Blueberry Pop Tart to bring along.

I figured it went well with all the gigantic chocolate eggs around here.

Places To Bike In Rome

I do a lot of sitting in my apartment typing things, so I make sure I also do a lot of riding around on a bicycle outdoors. Rome is an amazing place to bike.

It’s not a perfect system, but there are protected bikeway sections in the city, and they will take you to some truly beautiful places.

It is all so inviting.

One Place to Ride is in Parco della Caffarella

This vast park, Parco della Caffarella, is amazing in scale and beauty. It is located SE of the center of the city, and abuts both the Appia Antica and the Roman Aqueducts Park, and is over 7 square miles of paths and greenspace for walkers and bikers. One can pretty much bike or walk anywhere.

On weekends there are dozens of groups having picnics and birthday parties in the fields. And since it’s a venerable space in Rome, it is also full of ancient ruins and heritage buildings.

And sheep. Did I mention there are sheep?

I have only encountered the sheep once, but there is also a farm full of animals along one of the paths, and people are always stopping there to see all the animals and feed them. So far I have seen goats, chickens, horses, possibly pigs, donkeys, turkeys, geese, a peacock, dogs, cats, and llamas or alpacas (I am not sure how to tell those apart).

Everybody seems to want to feed the animals. People bring carrots, they pick fresh grasses from the park to shove into the farmyard fence, or they just hand over fistfuls from their open bag of potato chips.

One day a local family came by with pastries and wine, which they shared in a cup through the fence with their friend, the farmer. So I guess it’s also okay to feed the farmer.

I now save prime compost items from my kitchen and bring them with me to give to the animals: leaves, peels, bits of over-ripe fruit. The animals eat everything.

But that peacock, man. It took several visits to get a picture of the elusive peacock. At first I could only hear him, but then began to get glimpses. That peacock is not into being photographed at all.

But finally.

The Parco della Caffarella is actually one of the largest urban greenspaces in all of Europe. And it’s only about an 8-minute bike ride to the entrance from where I live and write, here On My Balcony.