tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-87677541438639282652024-11-06T03:44:23.907+01:00Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14828646459616359811noreply@blogger.comBlogger33125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8767754143863928265.post-38890142917147886562013-02-23T09:09:00.001+01:002013-02-23T09:09:34.223+01:00

So which International social secretary of the universe scheduled the Oscars and the Italian Election on the same day of the year? One with a hilarious sense of humour I believe. Voting will begin here in Rome on Sunday using state schools as voting stations. State schools will then be closed for a week for disinfestation while Romans go skiing until next weekend. In the meantime,  the

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14828646459616359811noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8767754143863928265.post-85101050019090871602013-01-25T13:17:00.000+01:002013-01-25T13:25:38.933+01:00

Living in Rome makes it impossible to ignore a forthcoming election given that this is where it is  all happening. As the big day gets closer, more posters of politicians are being pasted on every public vertical surface known to man. My particular favourite is over the bus route maps so I can stand at a bus stop and enjoy the surprise of not knowing which bus will arrive

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14828646459616359811noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8767754143863928265.post-81200666355246938592013-01-19T18:33:00.003+01:002013-01-19T18:49:23.130+01:00

If you haven't seen the Nativity in St Peter's Square yet, it's still there for a few more weeks with the Christmas Tree too. The queues might be shorter now and if the snow comes like last year it could be a magical sight. The Nativity lighting changes, taking you from dusk till dawn. The village is based on the town of Matera in Basilicata. As the sun goes down, lights start to twinkle

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14828646459616359811noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8767754143863928265.post-75645461384092850522013-01-07T12:14:00.002+01:002013-01-07T12:16:43.946+01:00

A giant sandwich appeared outside the Rome mayor's office in Piazza del Campidoglio on 6 January, designed to reignite the debate around the so-called "anti-panino" law that banned eating on the streets of the city's historic centre. Police quickly ordered the removal of the enormous rosetta stuffed with mortadella but not before the artwork by Iginio De Luca received applause and was

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14828646459616359811noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8767754143863928265.post-62900924611258450582012-09-30T16:53:00.000+02:002012-09-30T17:02:14.530+02:00

After much sniggering at the very idea of it, two weeks ago I finally sat down to watch episode one of  The Italian Apprentice. The heavily publicised trailer, with the contestants in designer eyewear bopping around in a Milanese boardroom to BTO's " Takin Care of Business", had left me wondering if the programme would stick to the usual formula.  As the series opened, 15

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14828646459616359811noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8767754143863928265.post-68073693798105652642012-02-04T21:04:00.002+01:002012-08-21T16:37:18.344+02:00

For those who wonder what a Mediterranean city looks like in the grip of a Siberian winter here are a few pictures taken today. Above is the view from my bedroom window in central Rome this morning.The Tartaruga Fountain, where Gastrognome's parents fell in love at first sight in the heart of the Jewish Ghetto was extra romantic today with the turtles and nymphs frozen in time. The bridge

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14828646459616359811noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8767754143863928265.post-34845261710662754052011-08-13T23:41:00.008+02:002011-08-14T00:21:06.427+02:00

Eight months in and the ghost of my New Year’s resolution is mocking me yet again as the power shorts out in my apartment. Last New Year’s Eve while savouring a wedge of vegetarian haggis, I resolved to improve my efficiency in 2011. Evidently the gelid Edinburgh wind had brought on an attack of the perverse given that this planned increase in personal productivity was being scheduled to take

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14828646459616359811noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8767754143863928265.post-44414268142043155952010-12-08T23:39:00.017+01:002010-12-09T01:08:08.892+01:00

To a Briton such as myself, the 8th December will always be foremost remembered as the day I heard the world had lost a Beatle.  Here in Rome today, I was distracted by a National holiday which kicks off with the Pope swinging past the Spanish Steps in his Popemobile and officially opening Christmas on the Feast of the Immaculate Conception of Mary.  Back in England, most supermarkets

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14828646459616359811noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8767754143863928265.post-88387712112870379792010-11-05T12:35:00.001+01:002010-11-05T19:17:52.851+01:00

Temperatures plummeted last week and somewhere between devouring a cream filled croissant and downing my second cup of Fortnum’s smoky Earl Grey, I was forcing to carry out an emergency "cambio di stagione".  Traditionally it takes a whole weekend to store away the linen and unwrap the cashmere but masterfully I achieved it in under 15 minutes partly due to the absence of my mid-weight early

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14828646459616359811noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8767754143863928265.post-16110381989703280582010-10-06T02:13:00.006+02:002012-08-21T16:39:08.160+02:00

If Oscar Wilde had been Roman, he would most certainly have written “The Importance of Being Important.”  For many Romans, “Earnest” is about as unfamiliar a concept as buying shoes from a cash-and-carry.  "Important" on the other hand means extra special dispensation and social distinction above all others. In other words: Special. Who knows if this goal to be special could be an

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14828646459616359811noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8767754143863928265.post-67260942948035570112010-09-23T19:35:00.013+02:002010-09-26T01:21:53.411+02:00

My great love of film has already predisposed me well to becoming a Roman as what I lack in my vegetarianism, I can claw back as a film buff.  For a Roman, going to the cinema is up there in his top 5 pursuits of pleasure during winter, so when a film opens which was actually filmed in the city, its release is greatly anticipated and then slammed if it doesn't represent Rome the way

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14828646459616359811noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8767754143863928265.post-16494308347942757352010-09-17T23:03:00.009+02:002010-09-18T00:06:13.635+02:00

“No good deed goes unpunished” I was reminded of this once again as I nearly came a cropper on my bike, whilst dropping off a bottle of Prosecco for a friend, as a favour, last week. As I pushed my cycle across a pedestrian crossing, barely a chalky trace of which remained visible on the tarmac, I encountered the most deadly of all hybrids: Roman white-van man. As he edged his way around a corner

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14828646459616359811noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8767754143863928265.post-40049505600960044712010-09-11T01:46:00.006+02:002010-09-11T23:53:41.985+02:00

The peaceful vibe in Rome has changed this week and the reason is “il rientro” It’s all Romans can talk about and it’s being blamed for everything from lack of parking to the end of "The Party along the Tiber". Tourists might be forgiven for believing Rome is currently involved in an Italian space program given that “il rientro” sounds like something could be heading, shuttle-shaped in our

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14828646459616359811noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8767754143863928265.post-70906278932540305532010-09-01T16:30:00.003+02:002010-09-01T22:06:35.895+02:00

Apparently there are 14,ooo lawyers currently practicing in Rome.  That’s 14,000 more than Starbucks cafes in the Eternal city and 13,998 more than public toilets available to tourists in the city centre.  Nothing untoward so far for a new Roman whose transformation is on schedule, in fact, alarm bells shouldn’t start ringing until you hear that not so long ago, I moved into an

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14828646459616359811noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8767754143863928265.post-81792968625514207452010-08-06T21:24:00.007+02:002010-08-15T01:12:39.317+02:00

Frequent trips back to London serve to sharpen my perspective of the Eternal city less I become inclined to regard its haunting beauty and sanguine chaos as commonplace in every capital.  Before a summer trip back, my general disposition is of one who has just been called up for jury service and dragged off the set of an episode of Jeux sans Frontieres, c 1974.  As I change out of my

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14828646459616359811noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8767754143863928265.post-34573219778112700952010-07-02T01:12:00.004+02:002010-07-02T18:16:43.269+02:00

Who doesn’t love surprises? Well me, if the definition of a surprise is something you don’t see coming because who can predict outcomes which aren’t a result of the sane, reliable, logical methods employed and trusted all of one’s life?  The secret of becoming a new Roman is to visualise these alternative outcomes- little surprises as moments of magic which put a bemused smile on your

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14828646459616359811noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8767754143863928265.post-24562639373999569542010-06-24T16:49:00.004+02:002010-06-24T23:37:37.031+02:00

Lately, I’ve been taking stock of my ongoing transformation from precise Briton to abstract new Roman and asking myself some really harsh questions, such as: Will I ever manage to leave the cheese counter having purchased something I can actually stomach?  Will I ever be able to buy clothes in Rome, given that only extra-small is ever hung on show and my size is generally stored down in the

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14828646459616359811noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8767754143863928265.post-24952792539068186012010-06-02T02:11:00.005+02:002010-09-01T17:47:48.156+02:00

When a Roman talks feverishly about a bridge, “Ponte”  there’s little chance he’s referring to anything spanning the Tiber.  He could be enthusing about status-symbol leather goods, trademark The Bridge but the likelihood is, the bridge in question relates to a one-day National holiday, which, if it were to fall on a Tuesday for example, could merge with the nearest weekend to form a

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14828646459616359811noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8767754143863928265.post-19892443364788366392010-05-24T23:28:00.003+02:002010-05-25T00:06:45.631+02:00

Every week, I like to rename Rome, usually inspired by whatever has been the most frustrating, joyous or comical peak of my week, always favouring a one syllable word so the city doesn’t lose its ring.  Once I named it “Why?” after a week of mouthing the word, bemused expression trying to fathom all things bewildering in Rome, such as why the booking of hospital appointment is only

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14828646459616359811noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8767754143863928265.post-14822028114584878872010-05-19T14:34:00.011+02:002010-05-20T01:02:57.545+02:00

What is it about Roman DNA that sends many of them haring around this magnificent city, oblivious to the existence of anyone they don't know by name, driving like rabid dogs frothing at the sight of yet another sparkling fountain?  Could it be that many are suffering from ESS: "Emperor Slave Syndrome"? This condition causes sufferers with a rich heritage of invading, conquering ancestors to

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14828646459616359811noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8767754143863928265.post-49407225016307605322010-05-11T00:47:00.007+02:002010-05-11T22:28:23.531+02:00

I’ve yet to be convinced the uber-stylish residents of Rome really want to see herds of cyclists taking over their streets any time soon. I’d be the first to concede that I can resemble a giant 8 year-old, pedalling through the rain in my flowery Cath Kidson cag in a bag. Romans on scooters on the other hand, generally look effortlessly chic gliding around on what amounts to motorized display

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14828646459616359811noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8767754143863928265.post-80398701243673821252010-05-03T11:32:00.005+02:002010-07-02T18:17:53.071+02:00

A good deal of Romans are currently suffering from an extra virulent fever, which is causing many of them to sleep, work and socialize in burgundy and orange lycra. The fever has risen to 71 but thankfully not on a thermometer. Instead, it’s registering on a league table, as Roma Football Team "La Magica", still have a fighting chance of winning “lo scudetto”, Italy’s premier league

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14828646459616359811noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8767754143863928265.post-75047630993213728702010-04-23T02:34:00.003+02:002010-04-23T03:28:44.895+02:00

There’s an Australian traffic rule that says “Road sense is the offspring of courtesy and the parent of safety.”  To Roman road sense, courtesy and safety would be the disinherited relative with burgeoning Tourette's.  I’ve heard a rumour, although I believe it to be an urban myth, that driving whilst using a mobile phone is illegal in Rome, or maybe only if your phone is a “mattone”,

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14828646459616359811noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8767754143863928265.post-6726540809596669842010-04-13T23:33:00.007+02:002010-04-15T09:12:04.485+02:00

Tell a Roman you are a "veggie" and you’ll be able to read the ensuing facial expression clearer than a tabloid headline on Election Day: Why?  Why, because what was understood, is as inexplicable to a Roman as an announcement of self-imposed celibacy, abstinence from fine wines and chocolate, rejection of art, film, music and literature, voluntary unpaid overtime and boycotting of beach

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14828646459616359811noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8767754143863928265.post-15128511642623156592010-04-07T15:45:00.006+02:002010-04-09T02:51:09.133+02:00

If a Roman says he has a 38, you could be forgiven for thinking he’s about to stick a pistol into your ribs and make off with your Fendi clutch bag. In fact, he’s probably letting you know he’s about to cancel on you; meeting, lesson, meal, date, he won’t be coming because he has “la febbre”, a fever which adult Romans succumb to on average once every three months.  A fever which I, by

Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14828646459616359811noreply@blogger.com6