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!. 

The Fosso di Cecchignola: An unexpected Adventure in Rome's Countryside

RST's 791st post.  Use the search engine at upper left to explore Rome and environs.

Beautiful downtown Cecchignola

Atoche

On a Saturday in mid-May, we took advantage of the unusual sunshine and headed out on the Honda Forza 300 for a day exploring wall art at Laurentina 38 and Corviale.  We never got to either one, but we made a day of it.  We landed in a piazza/park at Cecchignola, where we found a decent piece of wall art by Atoche, and another of Bugs Bunny, apparently by Diamond (both artists we know).





We also found a map of the area, labeled Fosso della Cecchignola (a fosso is a ravine, likely with water running through it).

We were intrigued by the open countryside around us and by an unusual water tower in the distance (and near it, a great "ship" of a building).  Off we went, on a path (the yellow one on the map, beginning lower right) through the undulating countryside, passing several women carrying small shopping bags (where, we wondered had they shopped)?

Intriguing water tower center right, building to the left 

After about 20 minutes, we found ourselves underneath the magnificent water tower, then wandered (still on paths) to the enormous monolith of a building, which turned out to be the Hibiscus Center, housing dozens of companies. It was lunchtime, so bunches of 30-somethings were chatting in small groups or walking back from lunch they had obtained somewhere.

Sensational

Hibiscus Center

In the process of trying to get around the back of the building (we couldn't), we met a woman who told us we should see the church, specially decorated for a day dedicated to Mary (who else?).  Inside, the decorations seemed minimal. Speaking broken English, she could us she was Catholic in the morning and Hare Krishna in the afternoon, or something like that.  She proved hard to shake.



We backtracked around the building, back onto the rural paths, still scrambling to find a way around a local 18th century castle (occupied, as it turned out), but to no avail.  A lovely path through the woods led nowhere, though it did take us along the fosso, here with a huge stone wall built on another wall, and it led us to a good view of the castle. (The castle is open to visits about once/year, it appears, usually in May  - with reservations on its web site.  It's now owned by an architect. Obviously we have to go back. https://www.castellodellacecchignola.it/)

Path in the woods

Walls in the fosso.  Some of these may be from Roman times, since the castle is
built on the foundations of a Roman military base.

Close as one can get to the castle. 

Backtracking again, we walked past a large popular complex of athletic fields, found a narrow path through the woods to a meticulously maintained pathway. People walking their dogs.









We decided NOT to backtrack to the paths we knew ("never go back" is one of our mottos), instead opting to walk a couple of highways.  To get to them, we passed through an architecturally interesting apartment complex (below).

The roads were a mistake.  Lots of cars, narrow roads, no shoulder, sticker bushes, trucks and buses.  Anxiety approaching fear.  After about 30 minutes we came across a break in the barbed wire fencing and headed off across a field of high and dense grasses in the rough direction of where we started.

Castle and water tower in the distance. We headed left.  

A fence loomed ahead--the only way out--but proved to be "moveable."  Small miracles.

 A few minutes of walking through "developments" got us to the Cecchignola piazza, where we found some Ama (garbage collection agency) workers actually collecting garbage!  I couldn't resist a photo.  The blond woman looking at the camera objected vociferously, though I have no idea why.  Illegal to photograph public employees?  Embarrassed to be caught working?

On the bike and home.  Estimated length of the expedition: 6 miles. Strenuous.

Not what we bargained for, but quite an adventure!

Bill

Fai Da Te: The Emergence of Do-It-Yourself Volunteerism in Rome

The commercial side of fai da te (do it yourself)

A few months ago, legendary singer-songwriter Francesco De Gregori picked up a broom and began sweeping via Settembrini in the quartiere of Prati, near the Vatican.  No, it doesn't happen often. Rome's celebrities are not often found cleaning up this famously filthy city.  But De Gregori's afternoon on the sidewalks, in the gutters, and among the garbage cans of the Eternal City (at  least the garbage is eternal) was a sign that Rome's citizens had turned a corner, and one of no small significance.

Rome--and no doubt most if not all Italian cities--has no tradition of volunteerism.  Romans believe that the high taxes they pay should be enough for the city to provide essential public services and, furthermore, that it would be wrong for citizens to break that contract with the public sphere by taking on duties that were properly in the government sphere.  It is not that Romans are tolerant of dirt.  Indeed, home interiors are generally spotless; marble and wood floors glisten(rugs harbor dirt and dust), and the stairways of apartment houses are routinely swept and washed.  Outside is another matter.

One city government after another--left, center, and now right/populist, under Mayor Virginia Raggi--has promised--and failed--to clean the streets, repair the seriously pot-holed asphalt and stone streets, pick up the garbage, and mow the grass in the parks.

The good news is that people are beginning to take these matters into their own hands, here and there, bit by bit.  Volunteerism remains inchoate, but there are signs of it.  The phrase of the moment is "fai da te": Do it yourself.  Indeed, on May 10 the newspaper La Repubblica referred to Rome as "la capitale del fai-da-te" (the capital of do-it-yourself).  Hard to believe.

A homeowner doing some hard work on via Olbia

We first noticed the signs of change three years ago, while living on via Olbia (it runs off via Gallia) in the San Giovanni neighborhood.  There, on a street where all the villini (small houses) are protected by stone walls and iron gates, a local resident was sweeping the sidewalk.  Bravo!

Cleaning up after the dog in Piazza Re di Roma

About the same time, we noticed a man picking up after his dog in Piazza Re di Roma. Another first!

Some hope here

And, then, this time in Monteverdi Vecchio, an effort to grow some flowers around the trunk of a dead tree.

Community involvement--a form of volunteerism

In Villa Sciara, also in Monteverdi Vecchio, a handwritten sign about keeping the park clean for school children.

Story in La Repubblica about people in Monteverde cleaning the streets, "fai da te"

Those were signs, but what's happening today is on another scale altogether.  Across Rome, public-spirited citizens have come together in associations to accomplish tasks left undone by the city government.  One of them, named Retake Roma, reportedly has 42,000 followers and, using the internet, organizes 20 events each week in the capital, cleaning the streets and parks.  Organized a few months ago, "Tappami" fills the potholes in the streets.  Another association, working with the city government, conducts "surveillance" activities in the parks, perhaps keeping on eye on comportment while keeping track of areas that need repair or cleaning.  And then there's an organization, "AnonimiAttivisiti" (anonymous activists) that brazenly mark out bicycling lanes where they didn't before exist.  On via Muggia in Prati, the portiere (doorman, super) of one of the buildings managed to get permission from the city government to become an authorized gardener (cost: 100 Euro) and then raise money to buy equipment (700 Euro) from area residents, all so that he could cut the grass once a week.  According to La Repubblica, there are now 94 authorized--voluntary-- gardeners in Rome. 

Finally, in Salario (where we lived for a time in the spring), Trieste (just to the north) and other areas of the city, young men, recently-arrived immigrants of African origin, are sweeping the quartiere's streets.  Each sweeper--and there are perhaps a half dozen within a 12-block area--usually has one or two boxes, often marked with the words "pulisco il tuo quartiere" (I'm cleaning your neighborhood) and, on top of the box, a cup for a "mancia" (a tip).  On the surface, it works; the streets are cleaner, and the guys are making a few bucks.  Not exactly "fai-da-te" (the "doing" is being done by someone else) but a new, and welcome contribution to the city's new "look" and "feel."

Bill

Rome is Degraded. Can't wait to Return

A personal favorite.  No orange fencing or yellow tape here, probably because this project, intended to protect
pedestrians and vehicles from the collapsing wall at left, was initiated years ago--perhaps decades ago--before
orange fencing was invented.  Maybe before plastic was invented.  The road is via di Porta San Pancrazio, on the Gianicolo, below the steps leading from Acqua Paola.  Via Garibaldi is ahead. 

Because we're in Rome only once each year (though for an extended period), we see both less--and more--than year-around residents.  We miss many of the day-to-day details of the city's governance.  But our absence also provides a greater sense of change, of how today's Rome differs from last year's Rome. 

The picture isn't entirely bleak.  On the positive side, the efforts of Tevereterna and other organizations are beginning to reshape Romans' relationship to the Tevere, a relationship damaged, we once thought permanently, by the enormous walls erected in the late-19th century to control flooding.  The enormous and powerful William Kentridge mural on the west bank may mark a turning point in this regard.  Incredibly, Romans are beginning (but just beginning) to pick up after their dogs.  So, too, the turn to private sources of funding to restore Rome's public monuments and buildings holds promise for cleaning up and repairing Rome's cultural heritage.  More on this in a future post. 

In some ways, however, the city and environs appear to be more degraded (degrado is the Italian word) than ever. 

1) The pothole problem.  The Romans refers to the holes in their streets as "buchi"--that is, holes.  And they are, we believe, rightfully concerned that their streets are becoming more hazardous year by year.  Our perspective on this derives from the 700 miles we put on the scooter each time we visit, over roads in every section of the city.  Hitting a pothole or a rough patch of road can be dangerous, but avoiding potholes is dangerous too, especially when the streets are wet, but any time.  Pothole avoidance inevitably distracts the driver from other problems on the road, and may take the scooter into the path of another, faster-moving vehicle, approaching from behind.

The worst Rome road by far is a quagmire of potholes, bumps and gravel leading to a sports facility on the north end of the city; simply scary.  Of the major consular roads, via Salaria may be the worst; as one exits Rome proper and moves onto the narrow, 2-lane, fast-moving "highway" north of the city, the right 2/3 of both lanes is simply undriveable on a scooter.  The left 1/3 is fine, but it positions the scooter perilously close to oncoming traffic.  In the city, most streets are worse than they were last year, in our opinion.  I was too busy dodging potholes to photograph them.

The Bernini "bee fountain" on via Veneto, nicely framed by
orange fencing

2) The orange fencing problem.  Whoever has the orange fencing contract for Rome is doing very well, indeed.  It's everywhere.  Its purpose is to fence off projects while they're being worked on.

Useless fencing on the Lungotevere

That's noble, except that one seldom sees anyone working in or around the orange-fenced areas, and it's rare that a project gets done and the fencing removed. 

Collapsed fountain, Flaminio, rear of
Tree Bar

Put another way, the city appears to be adept at installing the orange fencing, yet rather inefficient at getting the required work done and the fencing removed.  Hence the impression--and it's really just that--that the orange fencing is accumulating, year after year. 

Almost an art work.  For patrons of bar, right.

 However
appropriate it might be in protecting citizens from say, walking into a hole, it's also bright, ugly, and, as a sign that not much is getting done, all too obvious. On this trip alone,  we took a dozen photos of orange fencing, and could have taken dozens more.  We're sharing just a few.

Protecting peds from fallen tree.  Looks like it
didn't fall yesterday.

3) The yellow tape problem.  Yellow tape is sometimes used for the same purpose as orange fencing: to mark a potential hazard.  Here's a good example: a large portion of a tree has fallen on the sidewalk, and the danger is set off with yellow plastic tape.  The same tape is used for crowd and automobile management, for example to mark areas where parking is prohibited during a soccer match.  As letters to the editor in the local papers reveal, the authorities often fail to remove this "control" tape when as event is over.  So it remains in place, sometimes for weeks.

4. The trash problem.  Not exactly man bites dog.  Everyone--literally, not figuratively--knows that Rome has a trash problem.  Trash is--figuratively, not literally--everywhere. 

Piazza Mancini, Flaminio

Every neighborhood,  almost every sidewalk.  On one street after another, garbage bags, boxes, mattresses, construction debris--you name it--sits on the street next to overflowing trash bins.

Why?  No one seems to know. Too few bins?  Infrequent pickups?  Lazy garbage workers?  Obstructionist unions?  Tight budgets?  Romans who don't care?  If Virginia Raggi, the newly-elected mayor, can find a solution and clean up the city, she's a cinch to get re-elected. Good luck.

Building collapse

6.  Projects that never end--or don't even begin.  We witnessed one of these on our last trip, staying in a building on the Lungotevere at Piazza Gentile da Fabriano.  In February of this year (2016), long before we arrived, several floors of an identical building on the other side of the piazza collapsed, producing tons of rubble that had to be removed from the sidewalk and streets below.  The city moved the debris from the sidewalk but did not remove it, opting to deposit it in a huge mound across the two outbound lanes of the Lungotevere, one of the busiest streets in Rome.  Four months later, when we moved in, the mound was still there, still blocking the outbound Lungotevere, and forcing every vehicle taking that route to turn into the piazza, go around it (passing three major streets), and negotiate a stoplight before moving on.

Rubble storage site: the Lungotevere.  In three weeks at this location, we never saw anyone working here.  Still,
someone dropped off the dumpster.  Progress?

Oh, yes: we can't wait to return.  After all, it's Rome.

Bill
 

"Sorry for the inconvenience.  We're working to improve our city."  Working, maybe.  But not here.

 

Why you don't have to go to Rome in the Spring

It's April, May, or early June, and airfares to Rome are high.  Too high.  You're worried you can't afford the trip.  Relax.  You don't have to be in Rome to know what's going on there.  Without opening a newspaper or checking online, you can be sure that the following will take place:

--Romans in one section of the city or another will complain about the "movida"--that is, late-night public partying by large groups of young people.  These complaints are especially likely to come from residents of San Lorenzo, Testaccio, Campo de' Fiori, Pigneto, and the area around Ponte Milvio.

--A young tourist will have used a tool of some sort to gouge a piece out of a public monument, carve an initial, or otherwise deface one of the city's treasures. 

Rome garbage is eternal. The photo was taken
in Tor Bella Monaca.

--Citizens will be outraged that once again the city has failed properly to collect garbage, allowing it to accumulate in large piles around city bins and elsewhere.  The mayor will issue a vague statement that he's working on the problem.  Mayors will come and go, but Rome's garbage is forever.


--Romans will be on holiday most of the time, or so it seems, celebrating every aspect of their long and complex history: unification, the Republic, the day when Rome was freed from German occupation, various canonizations, and so on.  When these holidays fall on a Thursday or Tuesday, the Friday after or the Monday before - or both a Friday and Monday - will also be holidays, resulting in a long weekend of play called a "ponte"--that is, a "bridge."  In common parlance, a "ponte" translates as "long weekend." 


--There will be complaints and newspaper stories about the high cost of going to the beach--mostly about renting a space and an umbrella.


--Romans will become sick of tourists, even before the peak of the season, loathing especially the big, ugly tour buses that clog the narrow streets, pollute the air, and park in large numbers where they shouldn't.  At the same time, and without a hint of irony, there will be gnashing of teeth over the decline of tourism in Rome. 

--Alitalia, the national airline, will be in the news, grappling with its decline.

Neighbors complained about this "abusivo" sidewalk sale near
San Giovanni in Laterano.

--Various forms of "abusivo"--basically, illegal--stuff will come under attack: abusivi street vendors, abusivi restaurant tables that extend into narrow streets, abusivi additions to the roofs of buildings, abusivi homes in the countryside, abusivi advertising panels, abusivo parking, especially by "i big"--that is, people who drive, or are driven in, expensive cars and think they're privileged. Not too long ago, at a meeting on via Nazionale, about a dozen bankers used the street for their Mercedes and BMWs, their cars jutting out at a right angle--into a critical thoroughfare where parking of any sort is absolutely prohibited.  Nothing, or almost nothing, will be done about any of this. 

"Prati, the abandoned city: 'a bazaar of street sellers invade streets
and sidewalks'"

--Lots will be written about corruption, at all levels.  This year, a postal employee who drove a delivery truck was found to be carrying mail not delivered for four years.

Anticipating a June 6 strike of thousands of government
workers

--The unions will go on strike, creating "caos" in the city.  The newspapers will describe the city as "in tilt."  It will, indeed, be hard to get around during these "scioperi"--strikes--that seem to occur several times a month.  It will be impossible to determine if those behind the strikes are really getting screwed, or if the unions are screwing everyone else.


So stay home.  You know what's going on.
Bill

According to the story, some large, abusivi advertising boards had already been torn down, and four thousand more
were going to be.  We recently noticed that a long string of cartelloni on the Gianicolo, at the side of Acqua Paolo,
had indeed been removed.    

 

Progress....in Tuscolano!

Every edition of La Repubblica, Italy's rough equivalent of the New York Times, contains something--an article or a letter to the editor--about how dirty and unkempt Rome is.  RST couldn't agree more.  But now and then--this may be the first time, actually--we are surprised to observe a change for the better, some place that's been cleaned up in some substantial way, making a difference in the urban scene.

It happened not long ago, in the quartiere of Tuscolano, a gritty neighborhood near the (Tuscolano) train station.  As an exit strategy, we were spending two nights at the Holiday Inn Express, a modern hotel that's at most a 6-minute walk from the station, where we can catch the train for the Fiumicino airport for about 1/8 the cost of a taxi.

Anyway, while there we went to the station to buy tickets and check on times.  The route took us under the railway overpass.  In October of 2011, it looked like this:

Via Tuscolana, October 2011

Nine months later, our jaws dropped when we passed the same area.  A work crew had been through, clearing brush and debris.  Repairs had been made in the concrete.  One could actually sit here now.  And some advertisers had invested in the space.  You never know.

Via Tuscolana, July 2012

Bill

The Piazza's Filthy: Why?

Piazza Bologna is filthy--on Sunday, that is.  According to La Repubblica, it's filthy (sporca) on Sunday because of funding cuts for overtime workers--gli straordinari--that have prevented L'Ama (the governmental entity in charge of cleaning Rome's streets and squares, the folks with the dark red trucks--photo, right) from hiring people to clean up on that day.

What makes it especially troubling is that the Piazza, located in an upper-middle-class area in Rome's northeast, is often an active square on Saturday nights, a place where one finds the "movida" (the getting together of large numbers of young people). 

The newspapers present this as a social tragedy.  The article opens with the story of a young mother pushing a stroller, only to have it hung up on a bunch of plastic cups.   Worse still, a group of old people (anziani/ancients) reading newspapers on nearby benches find themselves surrounded by beer bottles, wastepaper and plastic bags.  The president of the Municipio (the local jurisdiction) reported that he had received "dozens" of phone calls from area residents "infuriated" by the degraded condition of the piazza. 

OK, so the piazza is a mess on Sundays, and the budget won't support overtime.  As everyone knows, Italy is a financial mess, and the city's no exception.  As the papers often say, things are "in tilt." 

In a situation such as this, would it be too much to ask the local folks who enjoy Piazza Bologna on Sundays to lend a hand and pick up the trash?  With 2 or 3 people--even old people--it might take 20 minutes to make the whole piazza look respectable, 3 minutes to pick up the junk around the benches and on the paths. 

Yes, it is too much to ask--in Rome, anyway.  Romans have little sense of working voluntarily for the public good.  If the "state" doesn't do it, it won't get done.  They pay their taxes, so the thinking goes, and that's enough.  

Well, it isn't enough.   What stinks in Piazza Bologna isn't the trash, it's the attitude that most Romans have toward their public spaces, and toward lending a hand--voluntarily--to solve a public problem.
Bill   [from Dianne- okay, Italians are not Canadians, but neither are we.  You're being a bit hard on them, aren't you, Bill?]

Wallpapering Dumpsters?

Wallpapering dumpsters? That's what the artist Finley (her last name, and the only one she uses) does. She does it in New York City, where these pictures were taken by Rob Bennett for today's New York Times, whose Penelope Green got the scoop. But she also does it in Rome, where she lives--and we don't mean Rome, New York.

Ours minds are boggled. Wouldn't Finley have to move mountains of garbage just to get access to Rome's bins? Where goes she find the wallpaper, from our experience a commodity as rare in Rome as Kraft processed cheese slices (which by the way are delicious)? How will Rome's mayor--an ex-thug who detests art and has failed to get the dumpsters emptied on a timely basis (how difficult can that be?) react to Finley's guerilla tactics? Will Romans, who have rejected carpeting for their homes because of a genetic fondness for the unadorned surface, turn away from the wallpapered dumpster in disgust? Stay tuned. And if you come upon one of Finley's creations, send a photo our way.

Bill