Italian Life

July 25, 2015

Arco degli Acetari a slice of Rome preserved from Middle Ages

This little square near Campo dei Fiori has not changed much for more than 500 years.

At the end of Pellegrino is an inconspicuous archway. When I walked through I felt like I walked onto a set of a Shakespearean theater. The square was ringed by two-story orange apartments. The view of each one was nearly blocked by small trees, ferns and planters on the iron-trussed balconies. A two-wheeled cart, the kind you might see in a Renaissance festival, sat next to a front door. The cobblestone pavement led to little windy staircases. The square even has a name: the Arco degli Acetari, named for the dealers of acetato, the mineral water that came from a spring north of Rome during the Middle Ages. These houses have essentially not changed since the Middle Ages, from the 5th to 15th century AD.
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July 18, 2015

UNO. DUE. TRE STRIKES you’re out — way out — in baseball in Italy

A young fan gets a fist bump from a member of the Italian Baseball League All-Star Team.

I had not seen a baseball game since the 2013 World Series. I’d gone nearly two years without even a popup. For a guy who played the game for 10 years and covered the major leagues as a journalist for seven, I felt in need of a baseball fix. I wanted to smell popcorn in the concession stands, pine tar around the batting cage. Baseball has smells no other sport has. Unlike most sports, these smells are pleasant.

So I go to the Italian Baseball League’s All-Star Game in Bologna. This city smack dab in the middle of Italy is the capital of Emilia-Romagna, the region best known for the greatest cuisine in Italy. It is known for culotello ham cured for 36 months and Parmigianno cheese the locals eat like giant gum drops. It is not known for hulking first basemen or 95 mph fastballs. But Italy does have its pockets of interest. Bologna is one of them. I learn fast after my train from the city center drops me off in the southwest part of town. I was three kilometers from Stadio Gianni Falchi. I wonder if anyone knows what the hell Falchi is, let alone where it is. I walk into a Tabacchi shop and ask to call a taxi. The man behind the counter not only knows where the stadium is, he knows the all-star game is in town.
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July 14, 2015

In the steambath that is Rome in July, mornings on my terrace are paradise

Me on my terrace, my usual perch every morning with my laptop and perfect cappuccino.

Yes, Rome in July is awful as I wrote last week https://johnhendersontravel.com/2015/07/09/july-is-worst-time-to-be-in-rome-or-anywhere-else/. However, in the mornings it is tolerable. On my terrace, it is spectacular. On my terrace is when Rome becomes the city of my dreams. It’s where I feel like this isn’t 2015. It’s 15 AD and I’m a member of the Roman Senate, sitting above the city in obscene luxury, lounging above the great unwashed. I keep looking around for curvy peasant women in togas to feed me grapes. Alas, I feed myself cereal and eggs.
My terrace has become my sanctuary, my home in my home. It’s where I write in the mornings and entertain in the evenings.
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July 9, 2015

July is worst time to be in Rome — or anywhere else

Tourists recovering from Wednesday's 93-degree heat and 50 percent humidity in Piazza del Popolo.

But don’t EVER come to Rome in July. Ever. Every day this month has been 90-95 with 45-50 percent humidity. It’s not as bad as Houston where today it will reach 94 with humidity at 64 percent. But add a good chunk of the 10 million tourists Rome receives every year and put them on a subway system too small to serve Des Moines, Iowa, and La Dolce Vita turns into a puddle of melted flesh.
I take pride in handling extreme weather conditions. I grew up in the Pacific Northwest so rain, cold and eight months without seeing the sun don’t faze me. Neither does searing heat. I lived in Las Vegas for 10 years. Ice and snow? I love them. I lived in Denver for 23 years. But I may have met my match with humidity. It affects me more than I’m willing to admit. Sweat stains are the ultimate in tackiness. I don’t care if we can’t help it. I hate them. I don’t naturally sweat much. Still, I only wear black or white shirts during the day in Rome. I once would rather go out naked than wear shorts in Rome like a common tourist. Now I wouldn’t wear long pants in this heat if threatened by armed gladiators.
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June 21, 2015

Calcio Storico Fiorentino a violent history lesson of Florence’s once gloried past

Calcio Storico Fiorentino started 500 years ago to show Emperor Charles V of Spain they weren't afraid of his invading army.

It’s the opening game of the 2015 Calcio Storico Fiorentino, a Florence tradition that dates back 500 years, back during the Italian Renaissance, when Florence was the biggest economic power in Italy, when art was its monetary unit and artists were its heroes. Yes, Florence. When you think of Florence, you think of the birthplace of the Renaissance, of Michelangelo masterpieces in the Uffizi, of the Ponte Vecchio straddling the Arno River at sunset. But hidden underneath the art, Chianti and romance is a sport that is all about blood, guts and a lot of glory. Calcio Storico Fiorentino combines rugby, soccer and violent assault. For nearly five centuries, Florence’s four major neighborhoods have gathered for one weekend in June and, literally, fight for a city they will risk facial rearrangement to defend.
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