The Enigma of SPQR

Many would say that I am lucky and in fact, I call myself fortunate. I get to spend a lot of my time in one of the most ancient and vibrant cities in the world. There is no city on this earth like Rome. The old and the new not only lie side by side but fuse themselves together in a way that you will not witness anywhere else on our planet. As you wander down its many varied streets, some cobbled, some asphalted, many cracked and broken, confusing and meandering, you are held spellbound by the many phases of history that you walk through, even to turn around is to discover unexpected wonder. Amid the frenetic traffic and chaos that is Rome, there still remains a timeless imperial dignity and faded beauty. From signorina to signora, to an almost immortal and mythical matrona; a slow and steady march through the ages, absorbing the new but never entirely abandoning the old. This is Rome.

Her children, however, are even more noteworthy. Like every child, they depend on their mother but at the same time take her for granted. They race around with their noisy machines, cars and scooters, at every hour of the day or night on destinations that only God knows where. Their spirits are restless and energetic, and the art of staying still seems to have never been discovered by them. They love their mother, yet do not take much pride in keeping her pristine. They appear to have anarchy flowing in their veins and instinctively engage in every act of civil disobedience that is available. In the age when many civilizations still wore nappies, Rome had grown into a sophisticated and ever-expanding city with marvels that would still awe us today even with our great technological advances. Yet its modern citizenry appears to have the mentality of a villager deeply engrained within them. A duality that exists on every level. On the roads, cars blow horns without any obvious reason except maybe due to impatience and a childish frustration backed by adult aggression. They are parked with complete disregard in every conceivable space, even blocking zebra crossings in broad daylight, with a certainty of right, ignoring the equally relevant rights of pedestrians, especially the disabled, elderly and parents with children. The enforcers of the law seem strangely blinkered to the potential danger of this civil disorder as they hop out their patrol cars, double lined, for a shot of morning coffee. They drop litter blithely as they stroll along or stand at corners chatting yet rise up in outrage against embattled mayors because the rubbish collection is not efficient enough (which by the way, it is not).

The disorder that reigns on the frenzy of the roads spills out inevitably onto the uneven pavements and sidewalks. Walking in this city is not a straightforward endeavour. Romans stop dead in their tracks on a whim. They commandeer the centre line, swerving unpredictably from left to right without discernible intention. They do not give way unless a collision is imminent and aggressively bear down on you no matter how much space is available on either side. Signalled crossings are ignored in the same way as drivers disregard a zebra crossing and red and green appear to be only the last resort and no one it seems waits on a curb for traffic to go by. They position themselves dangerously into the street and await an opportune moment to cross.

Then there is that distasteful but untouchable subject of dog mess. Rome’s uneven pavements, barring the tourist dominated centre, is covered in dog mess. Maybe covered is a word too strong, but it is indeed not advisable to walk with your head up. Watching always where you put your feet is, without doubt, the better option. However, woe betide anyone who criticizes the ever-growing number of dog owners! It is interpreted as an attack on the age-old, faithful companions of humankind and with a great hue and cry, all sensible suggestions to avoid slushing and sliding in dog poo is quickly silenced. It is clear to everyone that the fault does not lie with the darling pooches but with their owners who conveniently turn their backs as their babies carry out their natural business. What can be done? Could you imagine if a mayor decided that all dog owners should have their animals licenced and a DNA register be made of them (the dogs in this case, not the owners)? Any dog litter could then be traced back to its irresponsible owner, who would receive a justifiable fine. Sounds reasonable enough as this legislation would also protect dogs from being abandoned. Might as well propose bringing back public executions on the Ponte Sant’Angelo for this will undoubtedly be the fate of our erstwhile and fictitious mayor. Dogs are beautiful and trustworthy companions, but many owners let down their image on Rome’s streets.

Don’t get me wrong, the virtues of the Roman citizenry are many-fold. Their love of children is a wonderful thing to behold. As any mother knows, it is almost impossible to get out of your building from your apartment without running the gauntlet of admirers and ‘cooers’ of your little bundle of joy. Thank God arriving early for an appointment is not a requirement. (I cannot forget being advised by the British Embassy in Rome to arrive early for an interview due to necessary security checks but when I came as instructed the Roman guards rudely sent me away, and I could not enter until the exact hour. Which, of course, made me late for my appointment.)

Pregnant women are treated with deep respect and courtesy as should be their due. They are always allowed first in queues, and in supermarkets, a new checkout is often opened just for their convenience. On the Metro young men hastily abandon their hard-earned seats to graciously present it to the glowing mother to be. Being a person for whom knowing the root of behaviours — especially those taken for granted — is very important, I have always wondered why this action is so prevalent and almost sanctified. Is it the influence of the Catholic Church? The Madonna and child imagery ingrained into civic duty? Is it the Italian’s mythical love of family and children? Is it because the birthrate in Italy is so low that every potential addition is cherished? I don’t know, but it is always something that makes me smile in appreciation of a good thing done.

With Rome and her children, you can only scratch the surface. When you think that you are unable to bear any more of the unceasing chaos or the habitual unthinking rudeness you always encounter something or someone who fills you with happiness, humour, wonder and joy. Despite everything you are still compelled to return and you will sure to be both disappointed and on the other hand enchanted, sometimes at the same time.