Rome's Public Markets: a Cautionary Tale

Rome's neighborhoods remain vibrant communities in most respects, in part because the big box stores and malls that have damaged American cities are generally located far on the city's outskirts. Yet we have noticed that one element of the traditional Roman neighborhood appears to be in trouble: the neighborhood's central market. 

Our first recognition of the problem emerged in San Lorenzo, where it was clear that the central market, and the local, traditional system of food distribution, was in difficulty. Roughly half that market had been replaced by tables and chairs for drinkers (mostly) and diners of nearby restaurants and bars. And the half that remained was only partially populated. Only one butcher--a 72 year old man--continues to practice the craft in San Lorenzo. We talked to him, and he bemoaned the fate of his trade. He had very few offerings compared to butcher shops we've seen in other neighborhoods. He clearly saw himself as the "last butcher in San Lorenzo." And we counted only two fresh fruit and vegetables shops in the area. 

More than half of San Lorenzo's public market is now tables and chairs--or empty.

Friends tell us that the new indoor market in Testaccio is also troubled--more cafés and bars than traditional market offerings. The newish Trionfale market appears to be suffering too, Several years ago, the outdoor/shed market at Quarto Miglio was transformed into a children's playground and a center for street art.

The Quarto Miglio market, on a Saturday, at noon, in 2019. Only one stand was open.

An elaborate program of street art had failed to revive the Quarto Miglio market

Something similar is happening more slowly in the area around Piazza Bologna, where the large indoor public market on via Catania has been serving the community for decades. The market is located in a densely populated area--apartment buildings of up to 10 stories--that ought to be capable of supporting even a large public market. 

 At first glance the market looks healthy. 

But there are empty stalls.

We decided to do a survey. We walked the market, Dianne counting the total number of stores and stalls, Bill counting the number of empty stores and stalls. It was 10:30 in the morning, when one would expect the market to be in full swing.

Dianne's results: 148 stores and stalls

Bill's results: 49 stores and stalls closed (roughly 1/3)

Unfortunately, it's likely that the story of the via Catania market--a story of decline--is being repeated across the city. Chain grocery stores, with expanded hours, are proliferating.  Many of the daily (and mostly women) shoppers that once had their mornings free to shop at the market are now working. Young Romans are getting married at an average age of 32--and then having few children, or none at all. Fewer households having regular meals, fewer families and fewer family members to shop for. And, of course, the supermarkets have taken business away from the public markets. The future looks grim.

Bill 

For other posts on public markets, of the many references on this blog, see the following:

On Testaccio's "new" market: https://www.romethesecondtime.com/2012/08/testaccios-new-market-rst-weighs-in.html

On our favorite public market: https://www.romethesecondtime.com/2010/02/rst-top-40-26-best-market-in-romepiazza.html

Shopping again in Rome - a feast for the eyes

Part of the sweets counter at our favorite coffee bar/pasticceria (pastry shop) off Piazza Mazzini.
Do you believe all those jells and marzipan, not to mention the mini cakes?

My number came up at "Piccolo Forno" (which means "small oven" or
in essence a baked goods shop).

Back to shopping.  This time not signs, but sights - some of the ones that make us drool, make us buy, make us look, make us crazy.

In addition to the delectable-looking sweets above, we enjoyed scanning the many breads and other foods in this not-so-small Piccolo Forno (photo left), which had just about any kind of prepared food (stuffed tomatoes? pasta? salami?), along with breads and rolls. It attracted a crowd, as you can see.  We had to figure out how to take a number and wait our turn (not the easiest thing to do among Italians). Only about 1/3 of the counter space is shown in this photo.  The forno was in a large indoor public market.

Hoverboard shopper checking out at our local
(when we lived in the Salaria neighborhood)
small-sized Carrefour market. Notable and
customary - the cashier sits rather than stands;
you bag your own groceries; you pay for the bag
 (as now in New York and Los Angeles).
Re the customer - he's on a board that lights up.

Besides vistas of incredibly tasting looking offerings, there are strange sights, like the shopper at left on a "hoverboard."  In trying to figure out if this was even legal in Rome (it shouldn't be; we pedestrians need to survive), I learned that, although the vendors have gone out of business where we live in Los Angeles, the state of California allows these devices. And in London apparently one can buy them, but they are banned under the 1835 Highways Act, which states people cannot use the footway (sidewalk? marciapiedi?) to “lead or drive any horse, ass, sheep, mule, swine, or cattle or carriage of any description” which list apparently includes hoverboards.

One of the crowded aisles in a "casalinghi"
store.

We typically spread our food shopping among large (not in the US sense) markets, small markets, chains, family-run places, and mini markets (the last about which we've written before - many run by Egyptians and Bangladeshi). One of our go-to places for non-food items is the "casalinghi" or "housewares" store. In Rome, these are almost all run by Chinese immigrants, and carry very inexpensive (as well as pretty flimsy) goods of all types - think Dollar Stores (photo right).  The aisles are always crammed and narrow, and often you have to ask one of the store employees (who speak varying levels of Italian) where something is.  And someone in the store can find in a nook or cranny somewhere that child's potty chair, those hangers, or that candle. Bill and I still recall being in a casalinghi and asking for candles. The woman at the register yelled at the top of her lungs "candele!, candele!", and out popped another employee leading us to the candles "section" of the store.

And, finally (for this shopping installment), below is a sight from the Centro - the center of old Rome where there are still artisan shops. Here the proprietor is advertising and showing off his or her goods by hanging them outside, in front of the store, on an "Ape" truck (we've written about the "ape" - or "bee" truck previously - it sounds like a bee with its tiny motor and 3 wheels).

You might also note here the bicycle tucked into a parking space behind a scooter, and the Ape tucked into a space supposedly limited to scooter parking, taking up an area that would hold 4-6 scooters (when you drive a scooter
- and have to park it - you notice these things).

Dianne

Monte Mario Alto: the Suburb that's Nowhere near Monte Mario

In our latest effort to escape the powerful gravitational pull of central Rome, RST got on the scooter and headed out the heavily trafficked and not-too-safe via Trionfale to an area known as Monte Mario Alto, which we had never heard of and on our map had some curvy streets that we thought might yield this or that pleasure.

The first thing you need to know is that Monte Mario Alto is nowhere near Monte Mario, the 500-foot hill near the Olympic Stadium.  The second is that you don't have to drive (let alone risk your life on a scooter) to get there; there's a train station in the center of "town," and it's clearly labeled Monte Mario (not Monte Mario Alto). More information on using the train to get to Monte Mario Alto is at the end of this post.



Anyway, we parked the scooter and headed slightly uphill on via Vicenzo Troya, arriving a few minutes later in what appeared to be the town square: Piazza Nostra Signora di Guadalupe.  There are a couple of businesses in the square, including a comfortable coffee bar, run (and owned) for many years by a Filipino woman, with whom we had a nice chat about, among other topics, being a decades-long immigrant and how long it had been since she'd seen her adult children in the Philippines. We were the only ones at the bar, but there were the usual several men at tables outside, smoking and chatting in the wide piazza.

Across the way there's a newspaper stand amply graffitied, and a sign in the red and yellow of the Roma soccer team: La Curva Sud non si Divide!  PGU Roma.  Curva Sud  (literally "south curve") refers to the section of the Olympic Stadium (in US football, it would be the end zone) where the Roma fans sit, and the sign appears to suggest that the curva (the fans there) are united.  We have no idea what PGU stands for.




At one end of the piazza is the church for which the piazza is named: Parrochia Nostra Signora di Guadalupe (Our Lady of Guadalupe parish), built in the late 1920s and early 1930s, originally to serve Mexican nuns.  The parish priest was outside talking with his flock.  We admired the heavy metal doors of the church (below).

Gorgeous doors that feature the agricultural themes and stylized Art Deco design,
popular under Fascism. We couldn't figure out the artist, but the work
resembles that of Duilio Cambellotti (described in a future post). These types of
decorated doors are on many churches in Rome and hearken back to
 Ghiberti's doors on the Baptistry in Florence.

Turning a bit north and then left (vague, yes, but this isn't an itinerary, really), we came upon Monte Mario Alto's public marketplace, on Piazza Pietro Thouar.  We were a bit late to observe it at its mid-morning best, but even so, it seemed clear that the market had seen better days--perhaps the victim of several supermarkets in the area.

But the side of the market had some interesting "graffiti"--what Bill calls "found art."

You'll find this piece on Bill's website: http://www.foundartphotos.com

Back to via Trionfale, we noticed this building, a once-handsome structure from the late 1950s, now housing a technical training facility.

The sign reads "60 years of quality technical instruction." The degraded state of the building and the weeds don't exactly
underscore the slogan.

We crossed via Trionfale and made our way around the back of the station.  We passed this industrial building.  Note the new-ish bike path.  This is no podunk.

We soon came to the rear of another church, Parrocchia S. Luigi Maria di Monfort, built in the 1960s, a nice contrast to the 1930s church and an indication of the expansion of Rome's population into the suburbs. The graffiti on the walls between the church and the bike path reflect the left- and right-wing sloganeering around Rome.

"Attention: No racism."

Not everyone in Monte Mario Alto is on board with liberal progressivism.  This graffiti translates: "With the Syria of Assad, forward to Victory."  

And the following poster, with its slogan, "Tomorrow Belongs to Us," is put up by a right-wing organization. Chillingly prescient of the Salvini government.

"Tomorrow Belongs to Us!"

Around the front of the church, the courtyard was open--but the church closed.  However, our interest in the structure was noticed by a cleric who let us in and walked away, telling us to close the door behind us!  (Life in a small town?)  We enjoyed the interior with its 1960s art reflected in the liturgical furnishings and stained glass window behind the altar.

Always interesting to us is the addition of "homey" touches to modernist features in contemporary churches.

Satiated with church stuff, we followed via di Torrevecchia westward, into the more upscale side of Monte Mario Alto.  We imagine that middle-class people live here and commute to Rome.

We found a café with a sidewalk tent, and had a forgettable but surely tasty lunch, complete with our regular Coca Lite.  There are several other cafés and restaurants on this more modern side of town, the 'sides' being fairly clearly demarcated by via Trionfale..

Back to the scooter, and home to Salario--and we're still alive!

Bill

Re: arriving/departing by train. Regular trains leave from the Roma Ostiense station and the trip takes less than 30 minutes. Here's a map showing the station in the community:

"No Bolkestein" Say what?

The sign outside the new Testaccio market said, "No Bolkestein."  What?  What could that mean? 

If you spend much time around Rome's public markets, you'll see more of those "No Bolkestein" signs.  Here's some background:  The phrase refers to Fritz Bolkestein, a former commissioner of the European Union.  In 2006, Bolkestein issued an EU directive designed to create a "free market" for certain services, including food trucks, public markets stalls, and beach concessions.  As Bolkestein saw it, services were monopolized or controlled by only a few organizations or families, which held long-term licenses (some for 10 years) that were automatically renewable.  Competition, he claimed, was stifled. 

The sign on the truck, parked at an open-air market in the Val Malaina/Serpentara neighborhood, might be translated "Get Bolkestein out of the markets" 

As we understand it, Fritz Bolkestein had the authority to issue the directive, but it had to be implemented by national, regional, and local governments.  In 2010, The Italian government implemented at least parts of the directive, applying it to beach concessions and "ambulanti"--that is, licensed street sellers. Under the new regulations, street seller licenses would not automatically be renewed. 


New regulations for beach concessions proved especially unpopular among those already licensed to operate such concessions.  They argued that the Bolkestein directive would change a locally grown, "Made-in-Italy" brand of "beach tourism" into "beach supermarkets" controlled by multinational corporations and foreign investors. 


In Rome,  anti-Bolkestein protests began in 2005, anticipating the proclamation of the directive; some 50,000 workers participated in a demonstration that year.  Street traders again took to the streets--to Piazza della Repubblica, actually--in September 2016.

The No Bolkestein protest march, Piazza della
Repubblica, 2016.  The sign in the middle photo reads
"Salviamo Mercati" (let's save the markets).

Newly elected Rome mayor Virginia Raggi--the local leader of the anti-government party M5S (Movimento Cinque Stelle, 5 Star) was behind the No Bolkestein movement.  Under Raggi's leadership, the Rome council approved (31-7) her motion to postpone the implementation of the Bolkestein directive--indeed, all directives designed to increase competition in the services sector.  The council vote included extending trading licenses for stands to 2020.  Although it looks like Raggi's initiative was intended to help individual small businesses, in fact a majority of Rome's food trucks were (and are) owned by one family group: the Tredicine. 
Bill