Intriguing Independent Book Stores - those that remain - in Rome

English-language book stores (or bookshops, as the English call them) in Rome have dwindled over the years (along with map stores, to our chagrin) - I have an RIP at the end of this post for a couple of them.

Marcello at the desk of Anglo-American Bookshop, with his favorite book
(just kidding)

We unfortunately see the same trend in the US, as reading of books in print declines and screens and earphones take over. Yet, there are 2 older stalwarts in the independent book store market that remain in Rome, plus an upstart. These three are all appealing options for those looking for English-language books. We have personal ties of sorts to all of them (and they all carry Rome the Second Time and Modern Rome).

The most Italian of these is Anglo-American Bookshop at via della Vite 102, founded in 1953, when, as it says on its site, "This choice was very courageous as the English language was not yet considered a recognized language worldwide for any type of exchange (economic, cultural, tourist etc.)." Hmmm.  [The "Story" is still only in Italian on the site, but you can click your 'translate' button to get it in English.] 

We've always appreciated Anglo-American because our Italian friends shop for their English language books there, and because they sell more of our books than anyone else (except, unfortunately, Amazon). They are still ordering Rome the Second Time 10 years after its publication. Marcello, who manages the shop, is friendly and helpful. The location is ideal, very near the Spanish Steps. The shop is large, with lots of sections, magazines, and book paraphernalia.









The most American/English of the three is Almost Corner Bookshop in Trastevere at via del Moro 45. Owned for many years by Dermot O'Connell, who moved from Saudi Arabia in the 2000s to buy it (from the founder, who opened it in 1991), the bookshop recently was sold. It's tiny and chock full of books. You'll find Scottish patriot Anita Ross at the desk, as she has been for years; she's very knowledgeable and helpful.

Translator Frederika Randall and author Giacomo Sartori,
of "I Am God" at Almost Corner Bookshop.

We also like Almost Corner because of the events there, many involving our friends. Frederika Randall brought in now-Paris-based Italian author Giacomo Sartori, whose fascinating 2016 novel "I Am God" she translated and sheparded to US publication (named one of the NYT's best books in translation a year or so ago - look for a review in this space soon). 

And we had a terrific free trip to the nearby hilltown of Montecelio and its surprisingly excellent Archaeological Museum "Rodolfo Lanciani" (Museo Civico Archeologico "Rodolfo Lanciani") where Notre Dame (in Rome) Professor Ingrid Rowland gave a reading from her extensive scholarship on Italy (our favorite of hers, her book on Giordano Bruno). 

Ingrid Rowland being introduced at the Montecelio Archeological
Museum in an outing sponsored by Almost Corner Bookshop.

That day as I recall she read from her Pompeii book and talked about the mystic German monk, Athanasius Kircher, who ended up in the monastery, Santuario della Mentorella, well behind Tivoli (near Guadagnolo), which we hiked up to and almost killed ourselves hiking down from (it's on a precipice; we took the wrong path - and I hadn't read yet the part about Kircher's heart being burned in the church on his death - maybe that should've been an omen). Photos of our near-death trip and the sanctuary are at the end of this post.

In Montecelio's excellent Museo Civico Archeologico
"Rodolfo Lanciani."

The author readings and trip were all courtesy of Almost Corner. Again, great book store location, helpful and friendly staff. There's a nice story on prior owner Dermot O'Connell here: https://books.substack.com/p/notebook-bookselling-at-the-crossroads

The appealing entrance to Otherwise
Bookshop near Piazza Navona.

And then the upstart. To open an independent bookstore in these trying times is indeed courageous.  Otherwise Bookshop is just off Piazza Navona, in fact practically on Piazza Pasquino on via del Governo Vecchio.


Otherwise is across the street from its Italian counterpart, Altroquando, which has a pub and reading area in its basement. It was at that pub that we gave a talk on our approach to Rome - talk about the need for courage! - to Romans. Otherwise has a full schedule of events, including book clubs, poetry slams, and music.

Audience for our talk on our "second time" take on Rome at
Otherwise Bookshop's pub below its sister bookshop, Altrove.

Just before our talk at Otherwise began.

I also originally cited Feltrinelli International, which WAS an adequate bookshop selling books in languages other than Italian near Piazza della Repubblica - part of that immense publishing house and chain and soulless compared to these other three. Just before this post went live, Feltrinelli announced it was closing several stores, among them this international bookshop.

So the RIPs besides Feltrinelli International?  Among them, The Lion Bookshop, the grand dame of English-language bookshops in Rome, which simply closed one day in 2011. And, the Trastevere Open Door Bookshop which exists, but has turned into only a used-book store.

Dianne

The rock-perched Santuario della Mentorella where
the philosophical monk Kircher hung out.

Taking the wrong path (the view down was precipitous). Note the path is marked (lower right) and there's a cable to hold onto, upper right--suggesting the steepness of the hill.  

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

Hiking: Tivoli to San Polo, 10 miles, 2300 feet, great views

One view from the long ridge between Tivoli and San Polo de' Cavalieri.  The hill town at center is Castel Madama.
We've hired near it too in the past, encountering one of our more brutal brier patches.

As the body ages, long rides on the scooter become less enticing.  And so we've taken to doing some of our hiking from train depots.  On a hot Sunday in early June, we scootered in the a.m. to Piazza Independenza in central Rome, walked 10 minutes to Termini, and caught the train for Tivoli (takes about an hour, less on the return).  Our plan (we've done it twice before) was to hike from the Tivoli train station to San Polo de' Cavalieri, a small hill town roughly 5 miles distant.  10 miles total.  Varied terrain, delightful views.

Monte Cattillo, seen from the Tivoli bar,
with requisite beer, after the hike. 

The hike goes up over the shoulder of Monte Catillo (seen here from a bar after the hike).  The trailhead is about half a mile from the train station: exit the station right, downhill to the roundabout, take the road right, up to the arch, and turn right up the road, where you'll find the marked path around Monte Catillo).  Then uphill through scrub to a lone oak (this much we described in an itinerary in our first book), through a lovely grove of oak trees and onto a long ridge, finally pitching down off the ridge, then up on a road and some other tracks to San Polo, where we ate the tramezzini we had purchased in a Tivoli bar in the morning.

Benches line the right side of the street in San Polo.  

We sat on one of the benches on the town's main street.

Bar Centrale.  Quiet, but open, on a Sunday afternoon. 

Or you could buy lunch at Bar Centrale.











Or, from San Polo, you could go on to Monte Gennaro - another 6 hours or so!  We've climbed Gennaro half a dozen times, from several directions, but never from this one.  Tivoli and San Polo are in the Lucreteli, and Monte Gennaro is the highest mountain outside Rome.  The Tivoli to San Polo hike gives you the flavor of the Lucretili and some small town and farm ambience as well.

The ritorno (return) is a reversal of the andato (no good translation, sort of "going" or "the way there"): down from San Polo, steep climb up a hot road to the ridge, more or less flat journey along the mostly open ridge (great views on both sides, especially left), descent through the oaks, the scrub, and along the shoulder of Monte Catillo and down into Tivoli.

There used to be a lot of cows in these pastures, and bathtubs were used as rural fontane (fountains) to provide the animals with water.

Dianne at the oak grove, on the descent.  Several years ago, during a drought,
we feared the oaks might die.  Today, they appear healthy.  Red and white trail
marker on the tree.  A clear path.

Descent into Tivoli.  The white triangle just below the horizon and about 2/3 of the way toward the
right side of the frame, is Santiago Calatrava's famous, but unfinished and unused, swimming pool.  

A short section of road at the beginning and end of the hike. 

The numbers are hours and minutes estimated to reach the
destination, not distance.

Grateful for the shade. 

The trail is well marked (above, a typical sign) in a way it wasn't some years ago, when we first did the hike.  There are just a couple of places where one can go wrong: on the way to San Polo, having passed the lone pine, bear to the right and slightly upward at the fork (the intersection is marked).



Then, about halfway to San Polo, be careful to avoid pitching downward to the left (that's another trail, and a shorter hike) and stay more or less on the ridge.  There are some lovely and cool shaded stretches.







The total dislivello (elevation gain) is about 2300 feet (total for both directions, which involve ups and downs both ways).  That means this one's for hikers, not walkers.  Lots of rocky paths, so hiking boots are highly recommended.  There's water at the Tivoli train station (look for the eagle fountain at one end) and at the fountain in San Polo's main square--but none on the trail, with one exception that's quite close to San Polo.

Water is available at the eagle fountain on the north end of the Tivoli train station.  
You'll be headed for Monte Catillo, whose top is marked by the cross in the center
of this photo.  You can go to the top or across the shoulder on the way to San Polo..

We described another hike from the Tivoli station to the higher Monte Sterparo in 2016. That blog post includes some photos of our "cow map" that has part of this hike on it as well.

We've been partial to Tivoli for a long time, not only for hiking, but also for just the feel of this small, very old town (dating from the ancient Romans), the magnificent 19th-century Villa Gregoriana (#6 on the RST Top 40) and the more famous 16th century Villa d'Este with its fountains (the wild and the ordered, respectively, were compared in Rome the Second Time).

Bill

"Spolia" in Rome: Reading the Middle Ages' Use of Roman Materials

What is one to make of this column?  And which way is up?  What looks like a capital - at right - is in fact the base - below.  The photo at right is the photo below turned upside down.  Christians making Santa Maria in Cosmedin used a Roman capital to shore up a column that was too short compared to the others.  You can also see the different marble blocks used to support a row of columns below.  

Even those on a first-time trip to Rome soon learn that successive generations used the materials of ancient Rome for their building blocks and decorations.  Maria Fabricius Hansen, in her recent book, "The Spolia Churches of Rome" brings new insight to this well-known fact of the "spoils" of Rome, and makes going back to a church you've visited many times seem like a first-time trip.

Hansen focuses her exploration of spolia on religious buildings and brings a wealth of historical knowledge to bear.  You can enjoy yourself without her book, finding spolia everywhere, but you'll learn a lot more with it.  We ducked into San Giorgio in Velabro one afternoon while passing by and couldn't resist a photo of it:

We had learned from Hansen's book that the Christian builders usually put similar columns in pairs, across from each other.  But in this church they didn't.  She takes her educated guess at the dates of the various capitals:  on the left here, Corinthian capitals from the first to fifth or sixth centuries, but she guesses the capital on the right (the one almost out of the picture, an Ionic one) is from the first century. The next two on the right, fluted columns with matching Corinthian capitals, she dates as first century, but the next two (grey) are of the Early Christian period.  She theorizes that the differences between the right and left "may have been intended to reflect the liturgical tradition of separating the sexes in the church, with the 'good' side on the right designed for the male members of the congregation."  "Monotony was associated with the 'sinister' left side."

Once you start looking for spolia, you can hardly stop.  Here are just a few examples we've photographed:

A shop in Tivoli.

Exterior of the supposed home of Cola di Rienzo on via L. Petroselli,
across the street and not far from Santa Maria in Cosmedin.

Christian writing added to a column in the Basilica of San Nicola in Carcere,
via del Teatro di Marcello, 46

The two photos at left and below are from the Baptistery of San Giovanni in Laterano, a gorgeous, much-remodeled structure (including by Borromini).  Hansen points out the red porphyry columns--of various thicknesses and heights--are topped with an entablature that has the ancient Roman decoration turned backwards, or inward, with verses engraved by order of Pope Sixtus III on the previously undecorated, outward facing side.

The full title of Hansen's book is "The Spolia Churches of Rome: Recycling Antiquity in the Middle Ages."  It costs more than your average guidebook, but is worth it.

Dianne

Yes, that's me holding her book in the baptistery.

History, Myth and Mystery through Italian Trail Markers

The best of trail markers - at the top.  Here, Monte Gennaro - "Rome's mountain," complete with cross, Italian flag, and
clear markers - once you are up there - of the various ways down.

Who would have thought trail markers would have turned into a debate about Italian war history, geology and hiking myth?

Here's a mysterious one - again, on Monte Gennaro - the
traditional trail marker has been replaced with... well, you
see what.

We shouldn't have been surprised.  Signed trails in central Italy can be more entertainment than guides much of the time.  Since we've hiked almost every peak within 50 miles of Rome - and there are probably 100 - we like to think we're experts.

Yet, getting lost is one of our fortes as well. It's partly us, it's partly the trail maps slapped over WWII maps and not updated, it's partly the vandalism of trail markers, and it's partly the inadequacies of central Italy's trail system.  Central Italians tend to prefer the sea to the mountains.  And, after all, it's not the Alps. Still, as I said, it can be entertaining.  So here are some of the markers we learned from, puzzled over, and laughed at so far this Spring.

First, we learned some history.  On our hike to Monti Gemma and Malaina, that Bill wrote about recently, one of our fellow hikers told the story he was told by a guide as they were hiking around Monte Cassino (where the Allies in February 1944 bombed the abbey to smithereens trying to drive out the Germans).  That story, as our fellow hiker reported to our group, was that some thought the markers were to commemorate the Poles who actually took Monte Cassino, after multiple attempts by multiple armies, 3 months later, on May 18, 1944. The Polish flag is red and white.

Polish flag

Austria-Hungary flag; the Austria-
Germany flag of 1918-1919 is pure
red and white.

No, he was told by this guide, the generally consistent red and white trail markers derived from the Austro-Hungarians in World War I marking their retreat line with the colors of their flag.  I don't think he meant to say they were around Monte Cassino, which is south of Rome, but just that this is how the system started.

A confused and confusing marker -
red and white? yellow and red? blue?

"No, no," said our guide, Domenico, that's a myth.  As Domenico told his version of the story, the marking system in central Italy--basically in all the Apennines which run lengthwise through the country--was red and yellow.  They did not use white because the rocks of the Apennines are limestone, which is white, and so white is not a good color to use.

CAI's red and white - no mistaking it here.

But, after World War II, the Europeans decided to use one coloring system.  The dominant Italian group maintaining the trail system is CAI (rhymes with "eye"), Club Alpino Italiano ("Italian Alpine Club").  The red and white was used in the Alps, and because the northern Italians dominate the hiking scene - their mountains are higher (though the Gran Sasso a few hours from Rome is 10,000 feet) - they won out. The central Italians clearly think to this day that white is just plain wrong.  BTW, I googled quite a bit, and it looks like Domenico's story is likely the correct one.

Look behind the cows and calves and you'll see blue markers.   So blue is still in use.
  On the high plain on Monte Gennaro.  Can't resist the animal shots.

First we saw just blacked-over markers.  Was the trail out of commission?

And then we discovered this Spring on our perhaps 5th hike up "Rome's mountain"--Monte Gennaro, the tallest that looms outside of the city--that the trail markers had been "cancellato," or blacked out, probably with spray paint.

First the CAI sign is spray painted over black, then
someone has written: "CAI? No! thanks"

We went back and forth on the trail a few times to see if there was some reason the trail might have been re-routed, but, finding nothing, kept going.  We thought perhaps someone wanted to turn the trails more back to nature, as has happened to some extent in the Adirondacks in New York.  By eliminating trail markers, fewer people take the trails and one route does not become eroded.

But then we saw the reason here.  Someone is having a feud with the hiking section maintaining the trails:  the Tivoli section of CAI (Tivoli is the closest 'large' town).   Soon we saw that CAI had come along and painted their red and white markers over the black paint, and then someone else had come along and written on the CAI markers various blasphemes at CAI (see the photos).  We haven't been able to figure out the source of the feud.  But there it is.

This one says "CAI section Tivoli - Mafiosi!" - more
blasphemous tree signs (who would've thought that was
even a concept) are at the end of the post.

 

This says "Path of the Partisans" and points a different
direction from the trail.  What's the politics here?
Still on Monte Gennaro.

On a recent hike on some nice mountains behind Tivoli 20 miles outside of Rome, we took an incredibly steep trail down (we had taken it up a few years ago).  It now has been marked with extensive stonework, by a mountain biking group.  How anyone can bike this trail - or run it (we saw a trail runner too) is totally beyond our comprehension.  One can barely keep upright hiking it.

Dianne with a "uomini"

But, this group has moved a lot of stones to put in large markers of stacked stones, what we call 'cairns' and are called "uomini" or "little men" in Italian - these are the largest 'little men' we've seen.  These, by the way, are useful where the white doesn't show up against the limestone. The group also put in some stone circles and other markers that some might argue are not consistent with the wild.  But since one is hiking amidst grazing farm animals, and ex-farm buildings and stone farm walls (as in the cow photo above), this is a different kind of 'wild.'  We haven't yet come down on one side of the debate.

Your guess is as good as ours.  

A couple other words to the wise trekker.  Often the signs have been vandalized.  One can have very clear signs, and then none at all.  If you see a map on a signboard (most of those have been demolished as well - by vandals, not because of feuds), take a picture with your camera or phone. We encountered a young German hiking behind Tivoli and he managed using this technique plus a GPS app.  Of course, even the pictures can be wrong and misleading.  But it's a start.  And, the two of us debate the use of GPS.  It seems like cheating.  One of us (that's me!) likes to haul out the iPhone now and then to see if we're anywhere near where we should be.  The other one (that's Bill) enjoys the pleasure following the anxiety of losing the trail.

The young German knew enough to fill up  his water bottle
at the Tivoli train station (nice 'statue' to symbols of
Tivoli, including the aqueducts).

Classic CAI  trail markers - this is trail #215 in Rome - on Monte Mario.
  These are great, until they disappear.  BTW, the numbers are hours and
 minutes,  not kilometers or miles (yep, we made that mistake once - 
believe me, 2 hours is a lot longer than 2 kilometers!).  And who
knows what sign was once in those pieces of metal now framing nothing.

These pleasures and anxieties can be found in the parks and hills within Rome as well. Monte Mario, which is the most significant 'mountain' IN Rome, is a great hiking spot, with lots of trails, totally confusing markings, and everything from waist-high weeds to great views (of St. Peter's, of the Tiber, of all of Rome).  We've written about it before, and we suggested a hike up it in our first guidebook, "Rome The Second Time."  Since we published that itinerary, the 'mountain' or park has had trails added, and markers added and deleted.  If you don't mind being a little lost at times, go for it.

We found this map on a signboard on Monte Mario.  It has its
defects - no numbered trails.  Where we came in and out
isn't even on the map, but it gave us some sense of where
we were.

 The last time we were on Monte Mario we encountered 4 English-speaking 'pilgrims,' who were walking the via Francigena, St. Frances's walk.  They had 100 miles under their hiking belts, from Orvieto north of Rome, and were within a couple hours of their destination - St. Peter's.  They were doing it all with some "turn left here, turn right" typed directions.  Impressive!  We, of course, told them where to find the best bar with a view in the next 30 minutes of their walk.  The pilgrims seemed happy to get that information.

We've said it before, but it bears repeating, "buon trekking."  Dianne

"CAI section Tivoli - Shits!"

"CAI section Tivoli - Bastards!"