Citypack Rome - Softcover

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Introduction to Rome

Rome, more than most capitals, is a city of extremes. For the first day or so, particularly if you visit during a busy time, the noise, bustle, and traffic can seem almost Third World in their intensity. Arrival at Fiumicino airport or, worse still, the seedy confines of Stazione Termini, can be enough to make you think of turning tail for home. The streets appear places of confusion with wanton crowds, the city a labyrinth of belching cars and groaning inefficiency. Tackle the sights against this backdrop, and in the heat of a summer afternoon, and you will always emerge unenchanted, battered rather than enraptured by what—with the right approach—can be one of the most romantic cities in the world. For if you start slowly, and restrict yourself to a few sights, Rome reveals itself as the city of the Caesars, of languorous sunny days, the city of la dolce vita, of art and a galaxy of galleries, of religion, churches, and museums, of fountain-splashed piazzas and majestic monuments to its
golden age of Empire. To uncover this beguiling, but ever more beleaguered, face it is worth ignoring—at least initially—sights such as St. Peter's and the Colosseum (both likely to be besieged by visitors); start instead with a stroll around the Ghetto or Trastevere, or enjoy a quiet cappuccino in Campo de' Fiori or Piazza Navona. Or you might wander into some of the city's greener corners—the Villa Borghese and Pincio Gardens -- oases of calm well away from the traffic and streams of people. Better still, start with one of the lesser-known churches, such as Santa Maria del Popolo or San Clemente. Only with this type of quiet beginning, and reassured of Rome's potential for enchantment, can you begin to uncover a city that keeps its magnificent past hidden beneath a brash and initially unsettling present.


Romans

Rome itself, however, is not the only thing that can come as a shock: its citizens can be as startling as their city. In Italy's national mythology Romans are seen as lazy, stubborn, slovenly, and rude. As ever, there is some truth in the myth. Romans excel in the art of menefreghismo—not giving a damn—an infuriating knack when you want to be served in a bar or seek a little extra space in a bus. Of course there are exceptions, and in their defense Romans have had to develop thick skins to deal with the stresses of living in a city whose facilities barely match its needs, and whose overstretched resources are burdened further by tourists. This said, a smile and a little stuttered Italian may well be rewarded with courtesy, and after a while the Romans' fabled truculence can become almost endearing. You might also begin to enjoy the city's almost Fellini-esque cast of characters, from the pot-bellied restaurateurs and dog-walking old women to the fallen aristocrats, grumpy bartenders, and
rough-fingered matriarchs of the market stalls.