Living in Rome is all about the arabesque – the silky moments along the way that make life majestic, like watching Eddie play soccer on a field below an ancient Roman wall, or driving home from George’s karate class along a breathtaking skyline of domes. Lunch in the kids’ school cafeteria sits like a rainbow of color on a plate: grilled salmon, ciccoria and roasted vegetables. And like a diva worthy of La Scala, Lala fills the house with her unforgettable alto. She sings when she is happy and she sings a lot in Rome.
There’s a preponderance of little luxuries here. It’s often sunny, the food is divine, the views are sublime, and healthcare is free. Safe children, clean air, sparkling water. People linger at the bar over coffee or at a favorite sidewalk café sipping Campari. Ciao cara! They rouse fervor for soccer, going on strike, and love. Mamma mia!
One day Italians will know labour reform, fair tax laws and government efficiency. But then they might live to work instead of work to live. Meanwhile, living well seems like labour enough.
I saw a man the other day using the speakerphone on his “cellulare” because he couldn’t hold the phone to his ear and talk with his hands at the same time. It tickled me to see him yelling at the phone while it danced in front of him in tandem with his gestures.
It was an Italian arabesque.
I’ve written about the light in autumn before. It never gets dull here:
And more to keep you posted on our days: