The ebbs and flows of populations is a permanent concern for the type of person who insists on being concerned about it (points to self). “There are too many people these days!”, will alternate with “small towns are dying, and the countryside is emptying out!”. Add to these two the increasingly heard refrain: “there are too many of the wrong people here now!’, and the to and fro of population dynamics will occupy a small chunk of the real estate in your brain, serving as one of the lenses through which you view any setting that you will find yourself in.
Rome is no stranger to me; it is for me the centre of my civilization, one that many of you readers will also consider yours. “All roads lead to Rome” in more ways than one (this was horrible of me to say, but it’s just so, so spot on). All the roads, train lines, and ubers in Rome lead me to Trastevere, the neighbourhood located just to the south of Vatican City and the west bank of the river Tiber. It’s here where I plant my bandiera, safe in the knowledge that I can rotate myself in any direction and find action, culture, and inspiration.
As this Substack becomes more and more popular, I have had the opportunity to more and more of you during my travels. This jaunt into Rome was no exception as Antonio, a young student studying Economics, decided to reach out to me for an evening out. I waited for him at the wine bar pictured above (VinAllegro in Piazza Giuditta) where I was immediately entertained by the people sitting next to me: a Dubliner in the whiskey trade, and his neighbour, a Mulatta woman from Hanover, Germany who moved to the Eternal City over a decade ago. It’s very rare that I am not the one who first engages strangers in conversation, so it took me by surprise when she asked me if I needed any tips about where to go out in the city, whether it be restaurants or bars, or any other place in the scope of nightlife.
“Thank you, but no thank you. I tend to wander around and follow where the energy takes me”, was my reply, a very honest one at that. Decades of experience has taught me never to plan anything specifically, with the best and most interesting times of my life being ones that were spontaneous and off of the cuff.
She and the Dubliner live in the same building, and I could tell instantly that he was very taken with her, but that she wasn’t interested in him in the same way. For his sake, I hope he clues in sooner rather than later, as unrequited affections can leave a mark if not dealt with immediately.
Antonio and I made our move into the heart of Trastevere, a neighbourhood popular with the young and with the international crowd. The Italians may be dying out, but spend a Saturday evening in Trastevere and you’ll be able to pretend at least for a few hours that the opposite is the case. Bars, restaurants and clubs all mesh into one another, often without strong delineations between them. A loud cacophony is your constant companion, with your own physical safety assured. It is a safe place.
We sit on the patio in front of a bistro that is attached to a wine cellar connected to a sports pub separated from a pizzeria by nothing….and so on, and so on. Conversations with random strangers begin and end on very friendly and comfortable terms, completely lacking the dread of saying something politically of socially offensive because you don’t know the rules. A group of upper class Mexican women from Guadalajara ask me about tipping protocol in Rome. “10%, and they’ll love you”, I inform them.
The Mexicanas are to our right, while Dutchman Jost and his half-Italian, half-Welsh friend Tina are to our left. They too are fun people, and unlike the Dubliner, Jost is with a woman who is very into him. “Go check out this bar just down the road and to the left”, he tells me. “It’s owned by a guy who moved back to Europe from Canada just like you did”.
Giovanni is in his mid-50s and moved back from Toronto to Rome over 30 years ago. He owns a sports bar that is internationally-focused, meaning that you will see not just soccer on the big screen, but also NFL football too. He gets an international crowd that way, and it makes for good business. “I grew up in Downsview, and my neighbours were Croatian. The Ursa Family.” Small world, as the Ursa family are cousins of my cousins.
We make our way back towards the more chic places, and handsome Antonio keeps getting accosted by females. “Sorry, but I have a girlfriend and she is amazing”, he informs me after I wonder why he insists that we move on.
Trastevere is very Italian at night, and very European as well. The migrants do not present themselves here except in the most tiny of numbers, usually working at a bodega, if at all. The throngs of young people remind me of what life must have been like when we Europeans and Westerners weren’t committing civilizational suicide by way of carefree life choices and the refusal to pair up and have children to guarantee us a future. I think back to the “eating out” scene in Fellini’s Roma (1972) where the director presents us an idealized portrait of what public life was like in the Rome of his youth, when he moved from Rimini to the Italian capital during the Fascist era.
Fellini was lamenting what was already lost, a common sentiment throughout history. I recall reading how denizens of Greenwich Village were decrying New York City by the 1930s, insisting that it was “already over”, a refrain that the artists of the 1970s and 80s would apply to Giuliani’s cleaned-up Gotham.
Change is inevitable, but a night spent in Trastevere allows me to escape our present condition and enjoy a taste of what life must have been like not too long ago.
inb4 "Wine Bar with GF"
Hit the like button above to like this diary entry. Leave a comment if the mood strikes you to do so.
I am all over the place for the next few weeks, but have some pieces planned and that I am already working on.
I've been to the Canadian guy's bar. He's a cool dude and loves the Steelers. Good beer at that place.