First Impressions

I lived for six months in Mexico City in 2013 and so far Rome resembles that chaotic capital in its decaying buildings, ad hoc constructions, stark sunlight, men upon white plastic chairs, tiny businesses on every street, and most of all the explosion of life that greets one as soon as they venture from their doorway to discover vine drenched alleyways and cascading, open spaces prior to being sucked into twisting alleyways cast in shadow and towered on both sides by windowless walls.

Sitting beside the Tiber, what strikes me first is how rural this world suddenly seems, protected on both sides by fast flowing torrents of traffic in which mopeds resemble leaves caught in the current of the tarmaced surface. The river itself, beyond an immaculate cycle path, is cut off from the chaos by wide high walls and then kept from intrusion by wild bushes and undergrowth, strewn here and there with slowly autumnal trees, lost flood lights and other such failed attempts at urbanisation.

Old men, their skin like tanned leather, raise their arms toward the clear blue sky, clutching in their palms leaves from a plant which contains no smell, the health giving properties thus known only to them. Each thrust is performed as a half-hearted routine, like one who continues in their duty when their watch has ended.

Tourists find themselves by the river and wander only as far as to gaze upon the olive green water before turning to greedily retreat to more illustrious sights, spoilt as they are by former glories.

The streets teem with life and the warnings I’d received concerning appropriate attire seem to have been lost upon those I see as smart businessmen are outnumbered by youth and idleness.

Lost in music, I stand upon a crowded bus feeling once more at home, surrounded by the life, the verve and the vigour of a city, a place assured of its place in the past while striving for something of value in the time to come.