Eleven years in Rome: My annual reasons for living here

Me and Marina at the Roman Forum,.
Me and Marina at the Roman Forum,.

When I retired to Rome in 2014, I knew I’d be here the rest of my life. I fell that much in love with this city when I spent a 16-month sabbatical here from 2001-03. So I’m not going to say I’m surprised I’m still here after 11 years. I won’t use the tired cliche “Time went by so fast!” regurgitated ad nauseum at every high school reunion.

Frankly, my 11 years here have crawled by. When you retire, life goes slow. When you retire to Rome, life crawls by at the pace of a leisurely lunch in the Lazio countryside. Except for waiting on buses that often never come, I’ve enjoyed every minute here. I’ve savored every day.

I’m glad life in Rome has gone slow. There is more pasta to eat, more art to admire, more Romans to meet.

Every Jan. 11 I’m reminded of why I moved here. It marks my anniversary of my arrival in Rome. Saturday will be my 11-year anniversary and like every Jan. 11, Marina and I will dine at Taverna dei Fori Imperiali, the trattoria in the Monti neighborhood where I first ate when I arrived that cold Jan. 11 night in 2014.

And, as always this time of year, I have jotted down 50 reasons why I still love living in this crazy city. Hope some of them remind you of your lovely days in Rome or inspire you to visit. I have great pride in this town even though I’m one of its biggest critics.

But there is so much to love about it, too. Hope this blog convinces you that I still do.

To wit:

Isola Tiberina. Wikipedia photo

I love crossing Ponte Garibaldi and seeing sunbathers laying about Isola Tiberina near Ospedale Fatebenefratelli, the hospital that continues the tiny island’s history of medicine and healing dating back to 293 B.C.

I love the seafood ravioli at Mercato Testaccio.

I love the vintage black and white photos of old Rome regularly displayed in exhibitions at Museo di Roma in Trastevere.

I love Corriere dello Sport’s biting analyses after AS Roma games, win or lose.

I love sunbathing with other Romans at the Forum Fitness Center after swimming 1,000 meters under a warm Italian summer sun.

I love the meatballs in gravy, the kind Italian grandmothers make, around the corner at Franz, a cheap diner filled with Italian comfort food.

View of Rome from Gianicolo Hill. Wikipedia photo

I love the panoramic view of the city from Gianicolo Hill with a bottle of wine and good friends.

I love the train from Fiumicino Airport to Trastevere Stazione near my home for only €8.

I love the spa at Acquamadre, near the Jewish Ghetto and where a thermal bath existed for the masses 2,000 years ago.

I love smelling the grass after a light rain in Doria Pamphili, my Monteverde neighborhood’s huge park, designed in the 17th century and former home of the Pamphilis, a family of Roman nobles.

Easter frappe. Photo by Marina Pascucci

I love the chocolate-covered frappe, the sweet fried dough sticks, sold in every supermarket during Easter.

I love my little Pedrini espresso maker with which I produce, without question, the world’s greatest cappuccino, perfect to sip on my balcony while watching Rome wake up.

I love seeing a table full of priests eating pasta with a bottle of red wine at one of the plethora of restaurants with outdoor seating near the Vatican.

I love Dario always finding the perfect wine match for food at Sensi di vini, his tiny enoteca around the corner.

I love evil Juventus languishing in fifth place.

Pilates instructor Alessandra Pelonara. Photo by Marina Pascucci

I love Marina’s studio portrait photographs, making Rome’s ordinary people look so extraordinary.

I love Trapizzino, the tiny Roman fast-food joint in my old Testaccio neighborhood that produces the city’s best street food: fresh meat, chicken, vegetables and gravy in pockets of fresh homemade bread.

I love AS Roma leading Italy’s Serie A in attendance.

I love the sweet smell of oranges on the vine atop Aventino Hill with a panoramic view of Rome down below.

Caravaggio’s apartment in Campo Marzio.

I love Campo Marzio and passing Caravaggio’s old apartment that still stands and then around the corner where he murdered a man, sparking a life on the run that led to his death.

I love how new mayor Roberto Gualtieri cleaned up my street – finally.

I love Bertini’s, a small wine store near Piazza Bologna with some of the best Italian wine tastings in the city.

Roman Forum at night.

I love walking behind Campodoglio, the seat of Rome’s government, and gazing at the well-preserved temples in an empty Roman Forum under the lights, seeing the center of the world’s most powerful civilization 2,000 years ago at its most romantic.

I love soft nougat Terrone filled with almonds and covered in dark chocolate, which is always on my shelf around Christmas.

Italy prime minister Giorgia Meloni. Wikipedia photo

I love how prime minister Giorgia Meloni, a Roman, cuts such a positive figure for the modern Roman woman.

I love the amatriciana pizza at Pepino’s right next to Ponte Testaccio.

I love no bouncers in any bars except pubs frequented by tourists.

I love Marina’s rotolo di pasta sfoglia prosciutto cotto e gorgonzola: puff pastry roll with cooked ham and gorgonzola. 

I love my annual full-body, all-day medical checkup for €450 at Labaurelia, my private clinic, the same tests of which would cost me more than $1,228 (€1,185). In the U.S.

Me with Monday’s Corriere dello Sport.

I love Roma 2, Lazio 0.

I love sitting among the trees on Angelina’s outdoor terrace in my old Testaccio neighborhood on a warm summer night and eating their stinging nettle ravioli with sage butter.

I love the Roman Insula, the stark remains of a slum where many poor Romans lived during the Roman Empire, at the foot of the stairs leading up to Campidoglio.

I love the smell of garlic and pecorino romano emanating out of Da Enzo al 29 as I wait for a table outside the hole in the wall in Trastevere where they serve arguably the best spaghetti carbonara in Italy.

I love Rome-Milan for €30 on Italo with an advanced purchase.

I love that I’ve only met one Trump supporter, a 30ish Texas expat whose conversation with me in Campo de’ Fiori ended very quickly.

Sistine Chapel in St. Peter’s.

I love not being religious yet being drawn to Rome’s 930 churches, all of which resemble free art museums.

I love Roma goalkeeper Mile Svilar flying out of nowhere to barely flick a shot over the goalpost and quiet a capacity crowd somewhere.

I love Rome’s love and continued admiration for Caravaggio, my favorite artist whose recently discovered painting, Portrait of Monsignor Maffeo Barberini, was given its own room in Palazzo Barberini.

I love Marina, and nearly all my Italian friends, having never been drunk.

I love Cesanese, the pride of Lazio’s growing wine industry.

I love the word francobollo, the one Italian word in which I lose my American accent even though I rarely ask for a stamp at the post office anymore.

I love picnics in Doria Pamphili, sitting by a lake and watching ducks float by, looking hungrily at my rotolo di pasta sfoglia prosciutto cotto e gorgonzola.

I love Dolce Vita Confidential, Shawn Levy’s 2016 book about Rome in the glorious 1950s when Italian cinema was thriving and Rome was falling in love again – with the paparazzi recording every step of the way.

I love Marina’s family feasts, the last of which on Christmas Day consisted of lasagna, scallopini with mushrooms, ravioli, veal, salad, panettone and her brother-in-law’s organic wine.

I love a month’s worth of meds for €2.35.

I love exploring corners of Rome’s Lazio region every two weeks for our TraveLazio, our website dedicated to day trips from Rome, ranging from the prize pecorino in Picinisco in the south to the spectacular views from Tuscania in the north.

I love the twice-yearly month-long saldi (sales) and 50 percent off at Dolce & Gabbana.

I love the gorgonzola e salsiccia (sausage) pizza delivered to my door from around the corner at C’Era Una Volta in 15 minutes just in time for a Roma game. 

I love the gleaming shine the city gave Fontana dei Quattro Fiumi in Piazza Navona in time for the Jubilee, making it look like Gian Lorenzo Bernini built the fountain last month and not in 1651.

Marina Pascucci

I love Marina Pascucci.