An Evening in Rome. Best-laid plans, and all that....

What do you do in Rome? As a friend once said, “you walk out the door.” So true, though these days we often walk out the door with a plan. Sometimes things go “according to plan” and sometimes, especially in Rome, they don’t. This is the story of one of those days—an evening, to be precise. With a “lieto” (happy) ending.

Our day began, as usual, at our coffee bar of choice, based on a couple of good experiences we had had there over the past two days, including one just the day before, when we had enjoyed a couple of Campari “Spritz” in the cool night air. The bar, on Via Pomezia at Via Cerveteri, is Bar Anima Nera (Black Soul), though we call it the "Mad Hatter," after the fine drawings that grace the inside walls. The structure in front of the bar is on most days a vegetable stand.

A chilly morning drove us inside, pleasant enough with our daily newspaper (“Il Messaggero”) but when we went to pay the new Italian guy got the price of our caffè Americani wrong (E2.50 rather than the customary E1.50), and another new Italian guy served us our cornetto with a cough. Perhaps a harbinger of things to come.

Our mid-day adventure—a Metro A excursion to Aurelia and Prati to see a couple of closed edicole (newsstands) worked out fine. After doing some work at home in our rented apartment at Piazza dei Re di Roma, our plan was to take the Metro to Piazza Repubblica and a 64 (or 40) bus to Chiesa Nuova for an opening at Maja Arte Contemporanea, via di Monserrato 20, then tack to nearby Bar Peru, a favorite of ours in years past, for an aperitivo and cena—apericena, a one-price drink and plate of good food selected from a variety of prepared dishes available at the bar.

The opening was well attended and the wine (a Ribolla Gialla) was nice, but the art, while colorful and organic in a Victorian sort of way, was not of the sort to invite our serious consideration.

After a few minutes, we departed for Bar Peru.

Lo and behold, Bar Peru had, so it seemed, changed hands and look. The stools on the street were gone (maybe the police objected), replaced by tables across the street in the piazza. Inside, there was no apericena to be had.

We ordered two Campari “Spritz,” took a raised table inside, and lamented the changes. The new ownership appeared to be Asian.

The Spritz were excellent (the bar is amply supplied with Campari), the bartender terrific, and we enjoyed the chips and the peanuts in a Depero Campari & soda bottle. But what to do now, early in the evening. Via Giulia was just a block away, toward the Tevere, and we headed there, not knowing what we’d find. The street was dark and mostly quiet. The Accademia of Hungary in Rome, in a palazzo designed by Borromini mid-17th century and one of our favorite places, was open, and a sign mentioned a concert of piano, violin and flute. “First floor,” said the bored attendant, and up the stone stairs we went, just as the flautist was wrapping up the first performance. We took seats and for 45 minutes were thoroughly entertained by a remarkable 24-year-old woman violinist (Ludovica Mastrostefano) and her equally compelling piano accompanist (Sara Damiani). Popular Romanian tunes by Béla Bartók; Sonata n.3 by Edvard Grieg. Delightful!

So far so good. Afterwards, Dianne wanted to eat, Bill to drink, and we settled on Il Goccetto, our favorite wine bar (on nearby via dei Banchi Vecchi), which has both. It was absolutely full, spilling out onto the street (as it usually does). Disappointed, we left. Checked some other places, then decided (it was about 8:30) to head home. Caught the 64 bus (the "watch your wallet" bus) on Corso Vittorio Emanuele II. A man on the bus warned a tourist with luggage that a sciopero (a strike) of some transport services had already begun. Rumor was that the subway wouldn’t run after 9 p.m. We thought he was wrong. We ended up near the controversial Pope John Paul II statue/sculpture in Piazza dei Cinquecento, where a small ProPal (pro-Palestinian) protest was going on. 

Walked toward the lit-up Termini station, avoiding the buses. Found 5 clustered Carabinieri (state police) just outside the station, and we inquired, in Italian, if there was a strike going on at that moment. Yes, said one of them, a woman, authoritatively. The Metro (the subway), she added, was not running.

What to do? Dianne’s app said it was a 40-minute walk to our Re di Roma digs, and, having done the walk just the other day, we headed off on foot, down Via Cavour and into the piazza behind Santa Maria Maggiore, soon coming upon a Metro entrance. The electronic signed warned that service was "non garantite," but people were entering, and so we did.

Below, at the turnstiles of the Piazza Vittorio Emanuele stop, we asked a woman employee if there was service in our direction. Before she could answer she scurried away to deter several people whom she deemed not to have paid. We decided to give it a try. The train came. We took it. Finally secure at home, and having reached 19,000 steps (about 8 miles) for the day, we relished a plate of cold cuts and cheeses and a bottle of Circeo doc, as Bill called it, in our cozy living room, excited at having “sopravissuti” (survived) and had such an exhilarating time doing it. What do you do in Rome? Walk out the door!

Bill

PS from Dianne: Sometimes you get what you need.