All Roads Lead To Rome

And it doesnt help to simply play by the rules. The pedestrian lights might turn green, but that seems to be of the least consequence for the cars and buses pushing full throttle ahead. They have a patron saint watching over them, so why worry? But Santa Francesca Romanas benediction does not, apparently, extend to the pedestrian. His wits alone can save him, the thumb rule being that he should never ever dare make eye contact with the drivers.

For, to do this is to acknowledge their presence. And that effectively absolves them of any responsibility for what might happen. No matter how large or noisy the vehicle bearing down, the key is to appear totally oblivous of it. Foreigners tend to mistake this behaviour for a disregard for road rules. The more kindly ones would put it down to some strange national sickness. But Romans boast the kind of peripheral vision that would put owls to shame.

 

Once on the road, just keep going. There is a certain tacit understanding between driver and pedestrian that each will stick to plan. So the driver makes his own calculations and estimates about angles, speed and direction. You alter the course, and his timing and calculation goes awry. And theres no guessing who the loser will be.

These slight problems apart, Romans would tell you, passegiata via walk the street to feel the texture and complexities of the city. I started with a leisurely stroll along the majestic Via Veneto, made so famous by Fellini. After a decade of urban terrorism the La Dolce Vita night life is showing a slow comeback. Its a motley crowd that frequents the street now from down and out actors and decadent Roman nobility to seedy gigolos hanging on the arms of wealthy American tourists and businessmen staying in the fine hotels nearby.

If this does not please your sensibilities, take a quick walk to the top end of the street, past the macabre crypt of the Capuchin church, elaborately decorated with skeletons and assorted bones, to reach the bustling Piazza Barbernini, with its Triton fountain.

Not far from here, at Porta Pinciana, is Villa Borghese, a lovely park which has the Casina Borghese, a treasure house of such wonders as Canovas reclining nude statue of Pauline Borghese, Napoleons sister, some breathtaking Bernini sculptures, and fine paintings by Titian, Raphael and Caravaggio.

As the twilight hour approached, I veered towards the less upmarket but more colourful area around Piazza di Spagna with its lovely Bernini fountain and the famous Spanish Steps, the favourite haunt of the youngsters of the city. This evening, some 50 febrile young things stood in a semicircle, their eyes riveted to scene before them. A young woman (who looked no more than 15 years old) lay across the steps, clad only in a bikini top and a pair of cutoffs, stoically bearing the pricks of a Bic pen operated with a motor burning a red rose tattoo above her right breast.

It was no pleasant sight and I moved on to the more joyful Piazza Navonna. I returned to this square every evening to idly watch the quintessential Roman family outing, the father heading the entourage trailed by his children, the plump mother bringing up the rear.

The Italians tend to be rather protective about their daughters. But the sons are allowed a good time, and they make the most of it. Groups of young man gather together at street corners to croon bella, bella at every passing female form. The more adventurous engage themselves trying to chat up foreign girls for a possible date, who see them as an amusing diversion.

Rome today resembles a once-charming courtesan trying desperately to entice a world that prefers to ignore her or is at best, irritated by her. With over 30 lakhs inhabitants and 13 lakh visitors a year, the city is overburdened. Bureaucratic inefficiencies have been stifling the city. Visitors are repelled by the screaming traffic, the exasperating strikes and political demonstrations...

Evidence is everywhere of a capital that has seen 50 changes of government in as many years. Its economy is sagging, its institutions are in a shambles, its laws commonly ignored. And the politician-mafia nexus threatens to destroy the little order that is still extant.

But Rome is a survivor. At the hour of the passagiata, the evening stroll, you would never for a moment think this is a nation beset with problems. The chic jackets, beautiful bags and shoes and the Versac suits are worn with as much panache as ever.

Guess what was the most fashionable accessory in Rome last summer? A Ferragamo scarf, Gucci bag or shoes? No, you are wide off the mark. It is the telefonini that has caught the imagination of these peoples. Youll spot it everywhere, and for good reason. The Romans just love to talk.

Perhaps nowhere in Italy is the arte di arrangiarsi the art of making do or surviving with style learned with such skill and practised with such a sense of resignation. Pazienza ( patience) is the word. If nothing else, their 2,500-year history has taught them it takes time to get things accomplished.

Rome may have seen many social changes and political upheavals. But the ancient lives on here, in the Colosseum, the Forum and St Peters Square. Despite its problems and murderous traffic, it is a city best explored on foot. There is always an element of mystery you never know where the sinuous streets of Rome will lead you. Just a stop away from the busy throughfares are secret perspectives staircases, gardens, fountains, small sculptures. And, of course, there are its people adding to Romes many-splendoured hues.