Where'd everybody go?

SquiSanto, the café/bar on the corner, where I get my morning cappuccino and cornetto is closed. So is the bakery around the corner, the one that only opened last July. Even La Cuccuna, the ever reliable pizzeria and tavola caldo (hot buffet) across the street, is dark. What gives? It’s Ferragosta. All (well, most) of the Romans have blown town, leaving the city in the hands of the tourists and stranieri.

Ferragosta coincides with the Feast of the Assumption but it goes back to pagan times. It’s a harvest festival and its origins lay in a festival to Diana (nevermind that she is the goddess of the hunt and not agriculture). It has been celebrated consistently throughout Roman history. The “agosta” in its name refers not to the month but to Caesar Augustus, during whose reign the celebrations were particularly robust.

Historically, Romans would celebrate the harvest by taking a full month off. These days, it’s more like two weeks but it makes for a pretty quiet city as shops started closing down a week or so ago. The exodus hit full swing over the weekend and most residential streets looked like dorm parking lots after the last day of classes, cars every which way with trunks and hatches standing open while people jammed their last few bags before heading to the shore or the mountains. I took a long walk around town the other night and had to keep reminding myself it was Saturday. Ghost town might have been too strong of an expression, but not by much.
Usually August in Rome is reason enough to head for the hills but after a brutal July (I know it was hot back home but please understand, air conditioning is still a rarity over here.), things have been pretty pleasant over here. Warm, but not too bad. Today’s a beaut, nice breeze, low humidity. Still, when in Rome one does as the Romans do, even if that means getting out of Rome so I’m hitting the road myself. I’m heading back to the states for a few weeks and while I’m really enjoying myself over here, there are a few things I’m really looking forward to: (And don’t think of this as complaining. Think of this as a gratitude list in advance.):

Lemonade. I don’t get this, Italy is crazy about lemons. It’s a natural, yet it is next to impossible to find. I did stumble upon a stand a few weeks back and was halfway through a long pull on the straw when I became painfully aware that they serve it entirely unsweetened and expect the customer to sweeten it to their own liking. My cheeks still haven’t relaxed.

Dryers, as in clothes dryers. Most Roman apts. have a washer but few have dryers. My initial apt had a spiffy little all in one unit. It took about 4 hours to do a load and it kinda baked the clothes dry (to a crackly crunch). Oh, and it blew every circuit breaker in the place if you plugged anything else in. The current washer is an improvement (about an hour and a half to wash a small load), but to dry items, we rely on a drying rack that sits in perpetual use by the dining room table. I’ve got a fan blowing across the current batch. I’m hoping they’ll be dry enough for packing by bedtime.

Rita’s Italian Ice. Makes no sense, right? I think Italian ice is a US take on granita, the Italian slushie. A lemon granita on a hot day is pretty close to heaven (lemonade would be closer) but there are usually only three available flavors. I miss the breadth of selections at Rita’s. I miss the raspberry. I miss the wild black cherry. I miss the cotton candy. (So great to be an adult and to have an adult palate.)

Movies. I haven’t been to the movies since I got here. Most US films are dubbed over here and I can’t follow the language yet. I haven’t really missed them and I have no idea what’s showing these days. (I did see that Sylvester Stallone and Julia Roberts squared off this weekend.) Still, I’ve always been a fan and hope to find myself in theater before too long. (I understand they’re air conditioned.)

Green space. Rome is tough on the feet. There’s not a lot of grass and the pavement can be extremely uneven, especially those little San Pietro stones. I spent my first few weeks rolling my ankle on a daily basis. Looking forward to heading out to the Gunpowder or, better yet, Michigan.

Michigan. There is no Michigan in Rome.

Family and Friends. OK this should have been first. Looking forward to spending time with a bunch of people in a bunch of states and there’s probably no need to elaborate but there are a lot of folks that I’ve missed seeing or working with or just knowing that I could pick up a phone and call. Whenever. So long as it was reasonable. (By the way, did anybody ever find my Blackberry?)

Gotta pack. I’ll pick this up again mid-September. Ciao.