Shared Houses Make Bad Neighbors: Paint Jobs on the via Casilina

We were waiting in the hot sun for the Trenino that runs along via Casilina, when we saw something that made us wonder how people manage to get along. Across Casilina, in Pigneto, were some substantial palazzi, each with a new paint job. 

Except...except only half of each villa had been newly painted. The other half remained as it was--a trifle shabby. Obviously, the establishments were shared--half owned by one proprietor, half by another. The proprietor who wanted to paint his half wouldn't paint the other half for free, and the other proprietor--one imagines--wouldn't come up with the money, either. Or maybe he, or she, decided that with all the graffiti on the lower floor, it didn't much matter.  

Here's the result:

Bill 

P.S. We found a house in Catford, UK, that's even more "divided." 

Rome's Urban Countryside: a Walk from Pigneto to Centocelle

Rome's more open today than it was just a few weeks ago, so it may be possible to actually walk the walk that we took about a year ago.  If not, maybe in the fall. [This post was first published in April, but we took it down after a few days as events compelled us to write about "Liberation Day" and then the loss of Frederika Randall. We bring it back for the rest of its 10-day or so 'run.']

Rome isn't a mega-city (pop. about 2,800,000), and it sprawls.  One result is that there are surprising swaths of countryside remarkably close to the urban core--and even within it.  One minute you're on an urban thoroughfare, busy with commerce and residences; turn the corner and you're walking on what feels--and is, in some respects--a country road. Then, further on, more urban Rome, in the shape of a phalanx of modern apartment buildings.

We found an example of "country Rome" on a walk from Pigneto, a dense, hip, immigrant neighborhood on the northeast of the urban core, to Centocelle, a suburb further to the east.  We'll pick up our walk on via Acqua Bullicante, a north/south street packed with shops. Imagine you're walking straight south, about halfway between via Prenestina (to the north) and via Casilina (to the south).

On the left side of the street, facing an Esso gas station, note the mural by Atoche (above), a prominent area street artist, whose studio is in Pigneto.  Then, not far ahead, the Supermercato Il Castoro, with a country remnant--an Olive tree--in the front courtyard.

Immediately beyond the supermarket, turn left on via Forma--our "country road."  For the next mile or so, you'll have to be careful as you walk. There's a good deal of traffic, and--typical of the countryside--NO SIDEWALKS.

 Right away, some interesting buildings, including one with some neo-medieval touches.

It seems likely that via Forma once traversed small farms and orchards. A few still survive, now joined by small industrial/commercial sites.

After about a half mile on via Forma, turn right at the "T"--onto via Cori. A few hundred yards ahead, in Piazza Sessa Aurunea, note the Carpe Diem Bar (on your right) and a functioning crossroads nasone, if you haven't brought water.

Turn left (east) just before the fountain, onto via Labico.  More country road. Again, no sidewalks for about a half mile. Lots of traffic. Note an abandoned sculpture park in the weeds on the right.

On the left, a ways down, an old factory with a rusted green gate.

Bill took one of his "found art" photos here (which he later printed at 17 X 22 inches--looks great!)

Continue on until the road forks and there's a huge apartment complex ahead.

The "country" part of the walk is over.  We like exploring the architecture of such apartment complexes, and we went into this one through a nearby gate, coming out the other side on a road.

Make your way to the NEXT street, to the east, via Francesco Ferraironi, and turn right (south).  Follow this street until it curves right onto via Oberdan Petrini. You've got one more block to viale della Primavera.  From that street, head straight east, working your way through the 'hood, to the main drag of Centocelle (which in 2010, Bill called Rome's New Rochelle): via dei Castani (below).

 Then just a bit south to the large piazza that houses the church of San Felice da Cantalice.

On that same piazza, across the street from the church, there's a bar/cafe with outdoor space.  If you're inclined--and the place is open--have a coffee or a glass of wine and contemplate your journey through the Roman countryside.

Just a couple of blocks to the west and a bit south, you'll find the via Casilina tram. If you don't mind being on public transport, it should be operating, as of this writing, at 50% capacity and you must wear a mask. The tram will take you back to Pigneto.

Bill

Villa Certosa: A Hidden Rome Neighborhood

Railroad tracks are usually the enemy of community.  They cut through and divide neighborhoods, bringing with them dirt and noise and a certain trashy, industrial ugliness, leavened, if barely, by the graffiti that often covers their sides.  Paradoxically, rail lines can also create neighborhoods and nurture community, doing so by isolating an area and, effectively, protecting it from outsiders.

Railroads explain the charm of a Rome neighborhood known as Villa Certosa.  Villa Certosa is a spit of land bordered on one side by the multi-track Ferrovia Urbana Roma Giardinetto, which runs adjacent to the busy via Casilina; and another--even more impenetrable and isolating--track to the south and west that eventually passes through the Parco degli aquedotti (Aqueduct Park).  One can access Villa Certosa at several several places along the Casilina line, but the other track is a solid barrier.  Because one can't get through Villa Certosa to go anywhere else (there is one exception to that), there's no reason to go there--unless one lives there.  Or unless you're in quest of "authentic" Rome, the "real" Rome that tourists--even clever and committed ones--never see.

Even then, those looking for a spectacular site are likely to be underwhelmed.  The houses are simple, the pace deliberate, the noise and bustle of via Tor Pignattara, while not that far away, fails to intrude - that's also Villa Certosa's charm.

Perhaps the best place to access Villa Certosa is through Largo Alessi, a stop on the Casilina/Giardinetto line.  Wander southwest on via Galeazzo Alessi, along the tracks. As it turns left, take a right at the first or second street--the second one is via Savorgnan, which runs the length of Villa Certosa. As you turn onto via Savorgnan, you'll see a restaurant that is one of our favorites, Betto e Mary, about which we posted several years ago (recognizing the very Roman food - innards and horsemeat, and the bell that rang for our large "mancia" or tip - which we gave because the bill was so small).

Quiet, unassuming streets.

Not far ahead you'll begin to see more commercial activity, including Bar Shakespeare, with benches outside.  There's beer and wine, and the wine list is surprisingly long and good; so get yourself a glass of wine and sit out front with the dog-walking locals, or in a very funky outdoor back room.

A few paces beyond, and you'll be in the "town center," Largo dei Savorgnan, also known as Piazza Ciro Principessa.  Here there's another bar--less hip and cool than Bar Shakespeare, but no less authentic.

The other bar.

--as well as the seat of local government. (below).

A large mural identifies Villa Certosa's local hero son, Ciro Principessa, in whose name there's a yearly festival, held in May.  Raised in Naples, Principessa had been living in Villa Certosa for two years (he was 17; the year was 1979).  A committed anti-Fascist, he was working in a library on nearby via Tor Pignattara when Claudio Minetti, a militant neo-Fascist, entered the library with a companion and asked to borrow a book.  Principessa asked for his library card and Minetti ran out with the book.  Principessa gave chase, and in the ensuing struggle, Minetti stabbed Principessa in the chest.  He died in the hospital.

Below, the poster reads: Fascism is not an opinion, it's a crime.

Having absorbed the minimalist delights of the piazza, continue on the main street until you hit the "T," where you can go right and under the tracks to the famed via del Mandrione in Tuscolano, or left (which we suggest), working your way downhill until you reach via Tor Pignattara, and Villa Certosa ends.   If you turn right at the T, at the end of the tunnel you'll find yourself on a particularly intimidating section of via del Mandrione, with few outlets.

Maybe a hundred yards before you get to via Tor Pignattara, there's an entrance to some older buildings on your right.  In back--you have to be a bit intrepid here--there's ANOTHER wine bar.  This one looks like a back yard, and it was closed when we came through, but apparently it exists.

The other wine bar.  

Villa Certosa has TWO WINE BARS, and all without a hint of gentrification.

We first heard about Villa Certosa from our friend Patrick.  Otherwise we might never have found it.  Thanks, Patrick!

Bill

The University at Tor Vergata: A Brief Tour

The latest addition to the club of Rome universities is Tor Vergata, named after the alternating red and grey bricks of a striped 14th-century tower.  It is a long way from the Centro, out there to the east with all those other "Tors": Tor Sapienza, Tor Bella Monaca, Torre Maura, Tor Borgata.  I would add Tor Pignattara, except that this community, long considered to be inhumanely removed (in more ways than one) from central Rome, seems in comparison to Tor Vergata very close in, indeed. 

Our first thought on considering how to out there was to take the Via Casilina trolley/train.  This was a mistake--the university is located three stops beyond the GRA--though in retrospect, in the absence of a scooter or car we would consider the Metro and a bus transfer--that, in reverse, is how we got home.  The trolley stopped frequently, and the ride, through an uglier part of outlying Rome, took well over an hour.  Even then, we weren't "there."  From the local natives we determined that the school was to the west, which it was; about a mile, in the mid-day sun.

At last we found the entrance to the campus--somewhat understated, we thought--down a dirt hill and through a parking lot. 





Things improved after that.  We found the academic core: a set of reasonably attractive  buildings in the style of contemporary modernism.  A trifle sterile, perhaps.  Alfredo Lambertucci and Tommaso Valle, architects. 




In one of the buildings, students studied at tables in a hallway.  Tor Vergata offers 113 courses of study through six "faculties": economics, law, engineering, letters, medicine, and science.  In the 2010/11 school year, the school claimed 43,000 students and 1,538 faculty. 

We came across a new, and on this day, almost empty, classroom.  Students were scarce elsewhere.  Perhaps the school year was not yet in full swing; it was early October. 




Outside, a small group was celebrating a graduation or some other achievement; the object of that celebration (center) was wearing a laurel wreath (appropriately, the Italian word for graduated is laureata). 




The Economics Department was preparing to host a leadership event, using English and a Warhol-style soup can, with Campus standing in for Campbell's. 

Away from the core, where, in the U.S., one might have expected green fields with athletes perfecting their skills, was a vast plain of dust and scrub, bisected here and there by streets too broad for the few vehicles using them.  A sign for "Scavi"--excavations--suggested that efforts to build on this ground had been halted when ruins or artifacts were discovered.  We wondered if Sergio Leone had thought about filming his spaghetti westerns out here. 

To the far west--at least a mile from the core, and hidden from it, the husk of Calatrava's unfinished--and unlike to remain unfinished--swimming pool.  It was to be a key venue for the World Swimming Championships (held in 2009). 

And to the south, framing the Alban Hills in the distance, a curious double arch, reminiscent of what Mussolini's planners had in mind for E42--the 1942 exposition intended to commemorate the founding event of Fascism, the 1922 March on Rome.  Italian Fascism never dies; it just reappears in weird places.  And, to the arch's left, visible two photos above, a huge cross. 

Nearby, in the midst of the desolation, we found a lovely church, recently constructed (2002, Vittorio De Feo) but with a judicious and appealing postmodern look.  According to one architectural guide, the building combines the geometric qualities of Russian constructivism, Bernini's facility with light, and the atemporalism of 1930s modernism.


It was open, and we had a look around. 





To be honest, we doubt we've done justice to the campus at Tor Vergata.  Yes, parts of it reminded us of Zabriski Point.  But Tor Vergata is reputed to have thousands of students, and we observed only dozens.  It would look different packed with young bodies. 

But maybe not different enough. 
Bill
On the celebrity modern architect working in Rome see an earlier post on 5 of Rome's "Starchitects".