How Not To Come Off Monte Mario

 

We 2 "pilgrims" reflected in the glass of the now-closed Lo Zodiaco cafe'

at the top of Monte Mario. Great views still available.

Never ones to shy away from hard truths, your RSTers went last year to mourn at the site of the now-closed Lo Zodiaco cafe' (the bar also is closed). Not long ago, it was a lovers' (and families' and anyone liking a good view) hangout (- he path along the front of it is called "vialetto degli Innamorati" ["Lovers' Lane"]).

We walked up our usual way, from via Gormezzina, near Piazzale Maresciallo Giardino (admitttedly around a closed gate - but the "herd path" was clear), enjoying the wide switchbacks on sampietrini (cobblestones) mostly maintained by the non-profit RomaNatura (the informational boards along the way now are mostly destroyed). (Monte Mario came in at #11 on RST's Top 40, and is an itinerary in our guidebook, Rome the Second Time.)

We checked out the usual cafes in Piazzale delle Medaglie d'Oro (at the end of it, you can see signs for the via Francigena--St. Francis's way, now tantalizingly close to its Vatican destination). Then, in hindsight foolishly, we decided to take the paths that ran down and across the winding, very curvy, not always well-banked road we had scootered down several times, but also had walked down: viale dei Cavalieri di Vittorio Veneto, just below the Hotel Rome Cavalieri.

MAP AT END OF POST

Except the paths seemed to be nonexistent, and we found ourselves plastered against the retaining walls in an effort not to be run over.

Left photo, paths in bad shape.

Friends to whom we described our trek later that night said, "oh, you mean K-2"--that's the name for this outrageously speedy and dangerous separated "highway."

Right photo, Dianne hesitates as any shoulder is about to disappear.

Left photo. No shoulders - or even ditches or brush - wide enough to feel safe.

On closer inspection, the road we just came down on still sports a slogan to the Lazio Ultra (generally right-wing) Gabriele Sandri, killed in 2007 (hence the "Vive"), about whom Bill posted in 2011 here.

We finally got off this road on via Romeo Romei, which skirts the back of (more like a parking lot for) the national Appeals Court. It was under heavy scaffolding on the day we walked by.

All of which is to say, we won't do this one again!

Map below shows Piazzale delle Medaglie d'Oro at top left, Lo Zodiaco (as if it were still open) top center, and the walking path switchbacks leading up to it going off at right.

The big curvy dark stuff in the center was "our path," i.e. the road, leading down to the Corte d'Appelo.

No, don't try this yourselves.

Dianne

Piazza Socrate gets a Makeover. Too bad.

Piazza Socrate has been remodeled. Unfortunately

One of Rome's lesser known piazzas, Socrate juts out on the south flank of Monte Mario, at the confluence of via Fedro and via Cornelio Nipote. It has a commanding view of Vatican City. 

Dianne, enjoying the view, 2018

It's always been a scruffy, inelegant place.

Piazza Socrate, as it appeared 6 years ago

But its elevation, and its location in proximity to St. Peter's, made it a place to stop and look. It was also, so we heard and (likely) observed--a hangout for gay men. The large tree at the edge of the piazza, at the edge of a steep embankment, was a meeting place (below). 

St. Peter's, far right. 2018

That tree is now essentially inaccessible, as is the promontory, now situated behind a substantial fence. All that remains of the piazza--a small piece of isolated green space surrounded by something resembling a traffic circle--is both unappealing and highly public. 

The new fence

No one would ever meet in that space. One can imagine a car now and then pulling over to check out the view. But that's about it.

The traffic circle

With its sharp drop-off near the tree, the pizza's old configuration was not the safest, and likely that's why the city spent thousands to reconfigure it. And maybe the neighbors complained about gay men. As we said at the top. Too bad.

Bill 

Of Pigs and Boars: Rome's Problem with Cinghiali--and Swine Flu

 

There was a time, not so long ago, when a story about a cinghiale (a wild boar) showing up in Rome  brought a smile to one's face. How unusual. Cute critters. 

A wild board in Piazza Verbano

No more. The boars are more common now. Just in the past week, a boar was seen rooting around in a flower bed and a garbage bin in Piazza Verbano (near where we lived one of our times in Rome), in the heart of the neighborhood Trieste/Salario. Police arrived and closed the piazza for 20 minutes. A woman walking her dog in Villa Glori, in toney Parioli, was threatened by cinghiali (and folks are now being warned to keep their dogs away from the animals). Wild boars have also been sighted in the southern suburb of EUR, on the busy thoroughfare Cristoforo Colombo, in Piazzale Pio XII, in Piazza Vescovio (Trieste), on Monte Mario (one of our favorite close-in hiking venues and featured in our guidebook, #11 on RST's Top 40), and around a children's playground in Prati, near the Vatican. According to a veterinarian expert on the subject, the boars are not generally aggressive but will defend themselves, and they may become aggressive if people have food with them. His advice: drop the food and leave. 

A family of cinghiali at a children's playground in Prati. 

A genuine sense of crisis has emerged only in the last few days, when a boar was found dead with the swine flu virus in the Insugherata Reserve, an enormous, largely undeveloped area northwest of the city center. The disease is highly contagious among wild boars and regular pigs, and deadly 98% of the time (ok, we've hiked there as well - and came out on one of the farms ringing it). Now we're learning that there are some 12,000 small pig farms in the region, with all their 43,000 pigs in danger from the virus, which is lethal for the pigs. Although it seems clear that the virus does not spread to humans (and one always worries about when a virus will "jump" to humans), it is a resistant virus, able to survive for up to 100 days in the outdoors (and several months in salami or frozen meat), and it is spreadable by human contact--on one's clothes, for example. 

Now there's at least one article a day in the newspapers about the "la peste suina" (the swine flu, referred to in the papers here as psa [swine flu africana]). It's no secret that the major cause of the problem is Rome's horrendous, decades-old garbage problem. In every section of the city, the garbage bins in which residents throw their refuse are overflowing, to the point where frustrated citizens put their garbage outside the bins, on the ground, where it often remains for days. The boars love these easy pickings, and come into the city to eat. They eat and multiply. Estimates differ, but it's likely there are about 20,000 wild boars in and around Rome--especially, but not entirely, in the areas to the west and north.

There are plans to deal with the problem. The Lazio regional government (in which Rome is located) has created a "red zone" (see map above) where picnicking and other events, and the feeding of animals, will be prohibited. The red zone is bounded on the west and north by the GRA--a super highway that circles the city, and on the east by stretches of the Tiber River. But there is no "natural" barrier to the south, where the red zone will be marked by city streets, including via di Boccea and via Cipro (see the numbers on the map - we were living 2 blocks from via Cipro last month).  And, as a glance at the map reveals, wild boars have been sighted in many areas of the city that are outside the red zone and on the east side of the Tiber (Piazza Verbano is one example). 

The Commune of Rome will fence off some of the garbage bins. Medical authorities will check the farm pigs for disease (not a simple task). Some of the larger green areas will be closed, though which ones and to what extent has not been revealed. And the plan includes efforts to close off the migratory avenues (the "green channels") that the boars use to come into the city proper. How that will happen is not clear.

Dealing with the boar invasion won't be easy. The last half dozen of Rome's mayors have sworn they'll get the city's garbage collected, and, no matter the political party in charge, the problem has only gotten worse. The city's northwest is the site of several enormous parks. Some are heavily used and cared for, including Villa Ada (the source of some of the boars in that area of the city) and Villa Borghese. But others are quite primitive spaces--Monte Mario, Parco del Pineto, and the Insugherata Reserve among them--and it will likely be impossible to find the boars in these areas, let alone remove them or change their migratory patterns. 

In the meantime, we're thinking of staying out of the more remote parts of Monte Mario--for years, a favorite haunt--and leaving Parco del Pineto to the cinghiali. 

Bill 

P.S. Two days after I drafted this account, the papers reported 16 dead wild boars in the Insugherata, 2 of which had swine flu (only 2? why did the others die?), and that 650 pigs would have to be destroyed to keep the disease from spreading. The day before, it was reported that, because of the small number of cases, pig farmers were not required to register with the authorities. Today, May 11, the word was that a woman in the suburb of Bufalotta couldn't leave her house because there were 20 boars outside; a 4th case of swine flu was reported; and residents who live inside the affected area--presumably the "red zone," were asked to disinfect their shoes whenever they left that area. Good luck on enforcing that one!. 

Calatrava's swimming pool: viewed from Rome's mountains

This post is about a swimming pool.  It's in the photo above, but you were probably looking at the Alban hills, or the moon, or the city at dusk.

Rome is circled by mountains on 3 sides: to the southwest, the Colli Albani--the Alban Hills--beckon with a set of charming small towns, including Frascati and Rocca di Papa, sitting below the highest mountain in the chain, Monte Cavo.  To the north and east, Tivoli provides  access to the higher mountains in the Monti Lucretili, a group that includes Monte Sterparo and, beyond it to the west, the highest of Rome's nearby mountains, Monte Gennaro. Then, much closer to the city--indeed, right in it--there's a low chain of mountains (hills, really) that includes Monte Mario (about 400 feet vertical from the river), with its close-up views of the Vatican and one of Rome's great bars, for its view: Lo Zodiaco.  And to the south of Monte Mario, and in the same chain, the Gianicolo.

We've been all over these mountains--walked every trail and been to every peak in the Colli Albani, done most of the major mountains in the Lucretili range, and walked the length of the Monte Mario complex more than once. Each hike has its pleasures (and, we should add, its irritations).

One of the minor pleasures is catching a glimpse, from any of the summits and many of the trails, of one of the outstanding architectural features of Rome's periphery: a swimming pool.

But not just any swimming pool.  To be seen from a distance, of course, the pool has to be a big one, and this one is.  Up close it's a soaring, curving, triangular hulk of a building, set in the far suburbs to Rome's east, near Tor Vergata, the newest of Rome's universities.  It was designed by starchitect Santiago Calatrava for the 2009 World Swimming Championships, and construction began in 2007.  But before it could be completed, Rome's right-wing mayor, Gianni Alemanno, cancelled the project. Here's what it looked like a few years ago:

And here's how it looks as we journey around Rome's horn of hills and mountains, beginning with the Alban Hills and moving counterclockwise.  In the photo below, Monte Cavo is to the left--with antennas--and the pool can be seen on the right, just above a dark set of lower hills.  The photo was taken from a mountain to the north and east of Monte Cavo.

Frascati is only a few miles from Monte Cavo, and set lower in the Colli Albani.  Here's the pool from Frascati.  Surprisingly close:

Tivoli is on the edge of another range, the Monte Lucretili, further north.  Here's what the pool looks like from the hills above Tivoli (about 600 vertical feet from the town).  Charming Tivoli is in the foreground, the white triangle of the pool about 1/4 from the right edge and near the horizon.

Below, the cross on Monte Sterpara--about a two hour hike from Tivoli, which is out of the photo to the left.  The pool, near the horizon, is to the left.

Monte Gennaro is the tallest mountain in the Lucretili range, with a hike up of from 2,000 to 3500 feet, depending on where you start.  Because Gennaro is high and further away, the pool gets smaller.  Below, we've cropped and modified the photo to make the pool more visible (if barely, at far upper left).  Don't complain.  In the foreground is the concrete platform atop the mountain.

Now, as we move back into the city to its west, the pool gets closer and, thankfully, more visible--though not much.  Below, photographed from the path up Mont Mario (near the Foro Italico), the pool is at left, against a backdrop of the Colli Albani:

 . 

We've raved before about the views from the top of Monte Mario, at the Lo Zodiaco bar.  Here's proof.  That's Rome, the Colli Albani, and the Calatrava pool, at dusk:

You don't have to climb even Monte Mario to see the pool.  The photo below is from the terrace of the American Academy in Rome, during its yearly open house showcasing the work of its fellows.  Put that June event on your calendar--if only to see the Calatrava pool.

Bill

Raffaele de Vico: Everywhere, but Hardly a Household Name

A dapper de Vico, appropriately in the bushes

If you're headed to Rome and been brushing up on your Rick Steves, you'll have read about Michelangelo, Borromini, Caravaggio, Piranesi, Bernini and a dozen other luminaries of Rome's art and architectural past. Maybe even Marcello Piacentini, who was the creative force behind EUR on the city's outskirts, or Luigi Moretti, who designed several of Rome's best modernist buildings.

A name you won't find in the index to your Blue Guide is Raffaele de Vico, though in your week or two in Rome you'll probably experience more of his work than that of any of his much more famous counterparts. Before Palazzo Braschi gave de Vico his own show in the spring of 2018, we had never heard of him.  And now, for us, he's everywhere.



Raffaele de Vico (1881-1969), an architect, designed a few buildings and other structures in Rome, but none are notable--indeed, none are "tourist attractions."  One that we've always liked--we've been by it hundreds of times and wondered what it housed--is a serbatoio (literally a tank--a building housing a waterworks) --in via Eleniana, a few steps from Porta Maggiore.  It was completed in 1934.



Another, in the famous Verano Cemetery, is an impressive memorial to those who died in the Great War.  We've been in the cemetery more than once, but because it's so large--or because the architect in this case is not so well known--never had it pointed out.

Great War monument, Verano Cemetery

Monument to the regions of Italy, never built.

De Vico also designed (1944) a spectacular monument to the regions of Italy, which--had it been constructed (if it could have been constructed)--would have
been off-the-charts cool.







There's a hint of de Vico's future importance early on, when as a youth he became interested in plants.  Yes, plants.  At the Academia di Belle Art di Roma, he studied classical plants with Giacomo Boni while pursuing a degree in architecture. For a while he worked with many other professionals on the monument to Vittorio Emanuele II, making important friends and contacts, including sculptor Adolfo Cozza.  In about 1913 he was appointed professor of architecture at the Liceo artistico di Roma, while exploring "green" (plant-related) projects.

Impressive neo-classical serbatoio, Villa Borghese

After serving four years in a non-combat role in World War I, in 1920 de Vico took up residence in a house in Villa Borghese, where he lived the rest of his life. The Villa is the site of another of his few buildings--a second serbatoio, and an impressive one.










De Vico completed his degree in architecture in 1923, then (1924) took a position as a consultant to the city's garden services agency. Marcello Piacentini nominated him to be general advisor for the EUR gardens, and he was appointed in 1940. He served as head of EUR garden services from 1955 to 1961. In 1950, he and others founded the Italian Association of Landscape Architects.

And that's why you'll see so much of de Vico as you tour the city.  As a landscape architect (and perhaps to a lesser extent, as an architect), he had a hand in designing and planting dozens of Rome's piazzas, boulevards, and parks, as well as some of its hills and "mountains." He landscaped Parco Savello (better known as Garden of the Oranges) on the Aventino (1931). He was involved in the restoration of Villa Sciarra (1930). He worked on Piazza Bologna and Piazza Verbano (1930), on the Piazza Sempione gardens in Monte Sacro (1926), on Piazza Monte Grappa (in della Vittoria, 1930), and the still-lovely Parco Virgiliano (in the Trieste quartiere).

Parco Virgiliano

He drew up some elaborate plans for Monte Mario (1951), though most of his ideas were never realized:

He is also credited with designing Testaccio Park, though, having been up Monte Testaccio, it's hard to see that any of his contributions remain.

Carlo Montani painting of Testaccio Park, 1935

Several of de Vico's "creations" are specially notable.  One is his contribution to Colle Oppio, the hilly area just across from the Coliseum. If you're near the Coliseum it's worth trekking the few paces up the hill--and especially so these days, when volunteers have been cleaning things up.

Montani, Colle Oppio, looking toward the Coliseum

The fountain in Parco Cestio (below)--part of the Colle Oppio--is attractively designed and remains a favorite spot for sitting and relaxing:

View of the Coliseum, fountain in foreground

Here's de Vico, photographed while supervising the the installation of the fountain (1939): 

Then there is the landscaping along viale Carlo Felice, which runs east from the basilica

Viale Carlo Felice (right) and adjacent park, 

of San Giovanni in Laterano. Today it's a favorite place for itinerant merchants to lay out their
wares.

The charm of Piazza dell'Indipendenza (charming despite a taxi lane running through its center, replacing the trolleys of yesteryear) is indebted to de Vico's skills. It's close to the Termini station. There's a nice cafe in center of the piazza, which somehow seems immune to the traffic.

Piazza dell'Indipendenza, then with trams

De Vico also did significant "green" work on Villa Glori, on the city's north side, including the viale dei Settanta, in the Parco della Rimembranza (1924) and a reconstructed portal of Villa Capponi on via Flaminia at the entrance to the viale dei Settanta.

Villa Glori, viale dei Settanta, as it looked in 1924

One of de Vico's greatest achievements is the design and landscaping of Piazza Mazzini, and the intersecting Viale Mazzini, both completed in 1926. The sculptures that grace the marvelous fountain in the piazza were done by someone else. The fasci--the symbol of Mussolini's Fascist regime--remain.

Piazza Mazzini, 1926 and, above, painting by Moldani, 1935

Lots of de Vico to see in Rome--if you know what you're looking for, and at.

Bill

A villa you can't see, and a great view you can

A couple of weeks ago, while living in the district "della Vittoria" (just to the north of its more famous neighbor, Prati), we decided to have a look at Villa Miani, which sits on the south shoulder of Monte Mario.  We had read about it in the newspaper: the first building on the site appeared sometime before 1835, and over time the buildings, adapted and restructured, functioned as a sanitorium and as a university for the Episcopal Church.  It belonged to a Venetian nobleman for the 50 years before 1981. Claudia Cardinale once lived there.  Today it hosts weddings and large social events--dinner for 600.  We were eager to see it.

No, you can't go up there.  

The road up to Villa Miani, via Trionfale, ascends the hill from near the southern end of Piazzale Clodio.  We took both the road and a stairway that shortens the route but is ill-maintained, bushes and tall grass erupting from both sides.  It was probably last cleared and swept 5 years ago.  Having reached the side road to Villa Miani, a guard made it clear that not only was the road closed to the public except for special events, but that views of the Villa from higher ground in back also were not possible.



We moved on, seeking a view of the Villa from higher ground in back (no matter what the guard said), via the road above, via Alberto Cadlolo.  The guard was right.  The Villa was visually inaccessible.  We wondered why the newspaper had made so much out of a complex that can't be seen, let alone visited, unless you're attending a big wedding (as apparently most of our Italian friends have).

Along that same road, however, we were able to catch a view of the back of the massive Cavalieri Hilton Hotel, which, unlike Villa Miani, can also be viewed from the front, albeit from a long way away.

The Rome Hilton.  Maybe the same architect as Corviale.  

Balconies of the wealthy.  

As the street ambles southward, via Cadlolo becomes via Fedro, lined by properties and apartments of the wealthy.  We noticed that the residents do little to tidy up outside their complexes and gates.






The road then turns east and into Piazzale Socrate.  We had never been there, and it's certainly not much to look at, we thought, having been victimized by Rome's fabled tree-trimmers.  Indeed, it could be Rome's ugliest piazzale.

Rome's ugliest piazza.  

But we were in for a treat.

Just beyond the piazza to the east, the hill turns steeply downward.  A fence--designed to keep

The site seems to attract guys.

onlookers from falling off the hill--had thankfully been breached in several spots, allowing us to proceed onto a small promontory.

With an extraordinary view, of St. Peter's and more.

Dianne, at Piazzale Socrate

Incredibly, this view was featured just a few days later (May 1) in Il Messaggero, our newspaper of choice this year (cheaper than La Repubblica, but still a hefty E1.40). According to the paper, which had surveyed social media posts by Romans and tourists, Piazzale Socrate was the most-favored place for "scatti" (snapshots), selfies, and "likes," ahead of such notable sites as the Pincio and the Gianicolo.  We don't quite believe that Piazzale Socrate is more popular than the Spanish Steps or the Trevi fountain for selfies and other pics--it's too out of the way for that--but the view is undeniably spectacular, and, some might think, the best in Rome.  Just don't fall off.

Bill