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

Rome on Fire

Fires in Rome are relatively rare, or so it seems.  It may just be that, like traffic accidents, fires are numerous but almost always elsewhere, out of one's personal sight.  To our knowledge, there hasn't been a "real" fire in Rome's mountains and rolling hills for decades, even though farmers continue to light small fires to burn trash (or whatever), and it seems logical that the practice would sooner or later produce a conflagration in nearby fields or woods. When I was growing up in the Chicago suburbs in the 1950s, it was legal (and widely practiced) to have an open, circular iron contraption to burn stuff at the back of the property.  And sure enough, the adjacent fields caught on fire on a regular basis, blackening an acre or two of open land.


Despite the rarity of Rome fires, we have seen a few over the years.  Nothing major, but interesting nonetheless.  Four years ago, while exploring the somewhat dicey working-class town/suburb of Trullo for the first time, we came across not one but TWO burning trash bins (above and below).  Young punks resisting authority, we supposed.  Not good publicity for Trullo, but since then the town has experienced something of a regeneration through a substantial program of wall art and wall poetry. 

Then, in the spring of 2017, we happened upon--or in one case, read about--several fires.  In one case, we were on the way to a physician's office in the exclusive quartiere of Coppede'.  There on via Adige was this sad sight.  The owners of the burned automobile at left were there on the sidewalk, grieving and coping, a lot of work ahead of them.  Perhaps more young punk activity; privileged, alienated youth. 

Then, on the return from a hike in the Colli Albani, while passing through Piazza Finocchiaro Aprile, we came upon a more serious blaze along the far side of the railroad track, close to the Tuscolana station.  We parked the scooter and had a look.  This fire was in the papers the next day, but it was apparently put out without consequences.

There were, indeed, consequences to the final fire on our list.  This was a river bank blaze, known by some as the gazometro fire because of its proximity to the iconic Ostiense structure.  We knew this backwater area well, having explored it and observed its inhabitants from afar.  No one was killed, but quite a few "residents" of the river bank--Roma living in huts and tents--were rendered homeless by the blaze. 

 Bill

The Dopolavoro Ferroviario di Roma, and other Railroad Adventures

Piazza Salerno.  It looks peaceful and isn't.  At left,
1929 housing for railroad employees. 

Our "railroad" day began near Piazza Bologna.  Rome the Second Time includes two itineraries that begin at that piazza, but neither includes a complex of interesting buildings off via Catania west of Piazzale delle Province.  We parked at Piazza Salerno, a smallish roundabout, where in the late 1920s Mussolini's Ministry of Transport constructed a large building to house ministry employees.  It has 8 staircases and 3 entrances. 






A remnant of Fascism

High above the entrance on via Salerno one can see the remains of the Fascist imprint: part of the numbering system (probably VII, Fascism's 7th year - 1929) and the fasci, long ago chiseled off the façade by critics of the regime.  The leaded glass windows, on a side street, are also of interest. 

You could be in Vienna

More elegant and ostentatious is the Dopolavoro Ferroviario (railroad after-work center), built between 1925 and 1930 in what one scholar refers to a the "Viennese" style.  At one time the complex contained a theater, a hotel, a restaurant, a gym, a library, and offices--all to serve those lucky railroad workers, the beneficiaries of a powerful trade union.

Unlikely the sign is as old as the building, but
it's cool anyway.

The statues above the impressive curved façade represent the arts. Today, two theaters and what appears to be a defunct bar, Binario Uno (Track One) occupy the space.










Just around the corner to the west, on via Como, a set of lovely elevated statues depict the four social virtues and bridge the art nouveau and art deco styles.  Beneath them, an entrance decorated

One of the four social virtues: a good body

in fanciful theater motifs.

At the corner of via Catania and via Como, a sign makes clear that a section of the larger structure is being converted to condominiums: Residenza Como.  Buyers will have a pool, a gym, a beauty center, and the "possibility" of a parking place. 

Beyond the architectural pleasures of the area, there are social and political lessons to be gleaned: that railroad workers had considerable power, as they did elsewhere at this time (e.g., in the United States, where in 1934 they were rewarded with the Railroad Retirement Act); that the Mussolini regime sought to provide reasonable housing for the industrial working class; that Fascism, for all its faults, valued good architecture and, more remarkably, supported the arts.  Oh, yes: privatization is everywhere. 

The railroads, if not railroad workers, remain important to Italians, as we discovered on our next stop, Piazza del Popolo, where a chunk of one of the most Europe's most elegant squares had been

Another good use for Piazza del Popolo

given over to Trenitalia, the state-owned train company, which was promoting its Frecciarossa 1000, a super-high-speed train not yet in operation.  The sleek snout of the 1000 protruded from a large white box, which we assumed led to a mock-up of the interior. 









Not so.  After a few minutes waiting in line, we were handed 3-D glasses and ushered into a small (and stuffy) theater, where we watched a short film of a very fast train ripping silently through the Italian

countryside.  In a delightful bit of unexpected realism, the film included weeds growing out of concrete retaining walls.  As we learned just days later, you can make the trains run fast, but not necessarily on time.  Where are those Fascists when we need them!

On the way out, Dianne was the recipient of a Frecciarossa 1000 bracelet, seen here on her wrist at our local wine bar.  A keepsake. 












Our third railroad event of the day was a bit of serendipity.  Having been turned away from a neighborhood restaurant on via Taranto ("all sold out"), and famished from another hard day of tourism, this wandering couple happened upon La Veranda, a pizzeria at via Appia and, most

Entrance to the pizzeria - not exactly the club car.
 

appropriately, Rome's busiest railroad line, running just beneath.  The pizza was fine, the steak a bit tough, but the atmosphere--every few minutes, the sound of a train below--was perfect. 

Bill

RST acknowledges Eva Masini, Piazza Bologna: Alle Origini di un Quartiere 'Borghese' (Milano: FrancoAngeli, 2009).