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sheep on the Applian Way, Rome

Roman Treasures

Rome is slightly over an hour away from us by fast train, but it always feels like an exotic vacation, even on the briefest trips. In the last month I’ve gone for two overnight stays and found some special treasures—perfect after you’ve experienced the heavy-hitters like the Vatican, Forum, Pantheon, and Colosseum.

Appian Way

The Appian Way

The Via Appia Antica is in the running as the oldest paved road in existence. Begun in 312 BC, it was the first of the Roman superhighways created to move troops and materials—in this case 360 miles from Rome via Naples to Brindisi, an important port town where the Romans bumped up against the Greeks, and an intimidating military presence came in handy.

The most well-preserved section of eleven miles runs through the Appia Antica Archaeological Park, the second largest urban park in Europe. You can get there in fifteen minutes by taxi from central Rome. As I walked along the road paved with large basalt stones, still held in place by an early use of limestone cement, and showing wear tracks from cart wheels, it was impossible not to be swept up in history and natural beauty. This place is simply chock full of interesting things—several catacombs; Roman villas; a tomb of the daughter-in-law of ancient Rome’s richest man, converted in the 1300s to a fortified castle; aqueducts; and flocks of sheep. It was clearly the place to make your mark in Roman times.

We walked for about an hour from the Tomb of Caecilia Metella to the Villa of the Quintilii and were surprised by a flock of sheep running across the road in front of us at top speed. Caecilia’s large, round tomb from 30-10 BC was later incorporated into a walled castle in the early 1300s that is now only a shell. It was fascinating to see what it must have looked like—aided by an excellent VR-tour, complete with helmets—which I had to admit I liked despite my initial skepticism.

Unfortunately, due to a ticketing system hiccup, we didn’t get into the Villa Quintilii, but now have something left to explore. The villa is so large that at first the archeologists believed they were finding a whole town, not a single residence.

The walk itself was stunning. It’s the kind of place where we walked past Seneca’s Tomb and didn’t notice because there were so many things to see—realized it only later when looking at a map. Part of what made this adventure so special was that we were off-season so it wasn’t crowded or hot. The light was stunning with the sun low in the sky. Attempting this in high summer when it’s scalding hot would not be fun.

We had lunch at the Hostaria Antica Roma, a quirky place where the chef has recreated several dishes from the first cookbook in existence, written 2,000 years ago. There are also places to rent bicycles—a great way to explore more of the archeological park—which is enormous.

One more for the, uh, road

Domus Romane di Palazzo Valentini

Back in Rome, and next to Trajan’s Column is the Domus Romane di Palazzo Valentini. Discovered in 2005, when work was being done on the 16th-century Palazzo Valentini, workers discovered a well-preserved house, street, and part of another house from 400 AD, buried from 16 to 23 feet under the palace. These were homes of the rich and powerful. The tour wanders through the private bathing complex of the house consisting of plunging pools of various temperatures, a swimming pool, reception rooms, and the family’s private staircase—many walls still decorated with polychrome marble and painted frescoes. A street that used to run outside the house, and some rooms from the house next door are clearly visible. You can also see how the foundations for the Palazzo were put right through the Roman floors below.

An earthquake in AD 538, and subsequent fire, seem to have partially destroyed the house. The scarred beams and earthquake cracks in the elaborate mosaic floors remain to tell the story.

Spaces for the tour are limited, so advanced booking is critical. An audio tour, in a range of languages, and projections on the walls of what the villa might have looked like help to bring this site to life. Morning tours are slightly longer and include an up-close look at Trajan’s Column.

Basilica di San Clemente

The ‘modern”church, from the before 1100, at the top layer of the archeological strata.

Almost in the shadow of the Colosseum is the Basilica of Saint Clement. The Basilica one sees today was built just before the year 1100, which is pretty amazing all by itself, but excavations revealed that the current structure was built on top of two older ones: a 4th-century basilica, and a 1st-century Roman home that housed a Mithraic temple, used for secret, early-Christian worship around 200 AD. I felt the layers of time as we climbed steep staircases down and down to the earliest structures, deep underground.

Basilica of St. Clement

It’s moving to see these structures, still intact with their early-medieval wall paintings, columns and alters—as well as signs of earlier Republic buildings, like the Roman mint and an apartment block, separated by a street that’s clearly visible. At this period, the population of Rome was around 1,000,000 people so urban density was important. There were many five-story apartment buildings and multi-level houses for nobles.

This visit is less-structured than some of the others, and in some ways more intimate. We did book in advance (always critical), but because it was February, I was by myself on the lowest level—otherworldly and magical.

We had dinner at Hostaria Costanza, set into one tiny part of the massive walls of the Pompeo Theater, built in 61 BC. The setting would have been enough by itself, but the food was lovely, and the staff was smart, funny, and attentive. The kind of crew that noticed with amusement that as soon as we walked through the door Lola, our dog, found the location of the kitchen and was staring in that direction with her considerable focus and powers of persuasion.

And don’t forget to visit another of my favorite archeological treasures in Rome, Ostia Antica.

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Little treasures of 2021

Here are some of my favorite adventures and discoveries of the year. If you’ve stuck with me this long you know that as much as I love an over-the-top Relais & Chateaux-type joint I find even more delight in small places that may be a little rough around the edges, but are one of a kind. A couple from this year have stuck in my mind with such fondness that I figured you have to know about them.

Greater Bologna

The photo above is from Ca’ Lo Spicchio, a house from the 1500s in the mountains about 45 minutes away from both Bologna and Modena that offers one room for rent. It’s almost impossible to find, but worth the drive down one-lane unpaved mountain roads, except when Google Maps is insistent that you turn up a goat path. Run by a retired advertising executive and his fashion-industry partner every detail is thought through and done with an attentive eye, from the building restoration to the guest room touches. Their home also includes two dogs, seven cats, two horses, chickens who are the focus of attention from the fox they befriend, and one of the best situated pools I’ve seen. The guest suite has a bed and lounge up more of a ladder than staircase located above the living room with a big fireplace and wood-burning stove. Definitionally cozy.

The Truffle Hunters

One of my favorite films of the year, The Truffle Hunters is a documentary with intelligence, heart, a poetic eye, and humor, beloved at Sundance and Cannes. It’s a breath of fresh air —not one cliched drone shot—with every frame filled with creativity. I laughed out loud several times the first time I saw it as each new scene was a surprising delight, and I could feel the fun the filmmakers had creating it. The film follows a men hunting white truffles in Piedmont, Italy—a notoriously closed and suspicious group who somehow opened up to these two American filmmakers, Michael Dweck and Gregory Kershaw—who shot the documentary over three years. Dweck and Kershaw were able to capture the men’s trials and joy, as well as the cutthroat, competitive world of selling and marketing this high-priced delicacy when supplies are dwindling due to climate change and competition. It embodies so much of what I love about Italy, and the Italians, and I hope you get as much joy and inspiration from it as I did.

Tivoli

On a trip to pick up Sebastian at the Rome airport we spent a night in the small town of Tivoli, which is more car-friendly than driving into the center of Rome. What started out as a night of convenience turned into love. Tivoli is the nearest town to two of greater Rome’s heavy-hitting sites—Hadrian’s Villa and Villa d’Este—but it turned out to be charming in its own right. The modern outskirts that you spiral around to reach the historical center on a plateau are not promising, but once you get to the old town it has that mix that I love—real, working, a little dingy, and bursting with life.

At night we walked Lola down a dark, narrow medieval street when from behind a shuttered second floor window we heard “Alexa, spegni la luce” (“Alexa, turn off the light”). Perfect moment.

We stayed at the Residenze Gregoriane, which is part of a palace from the 1500s. It has only three rooms, decorated in an older Italian aesthetic, and serves breakfast in a perfect courtyard adorned by frescoes and mosaics created by some of the same artisans who worked on the Villa d’Este. The family who runs it is one of warmest and most welcoming we’ve run across, which is saying a lot in Italy.

We visited Hadrian’s Villa on a very hot day and we lost our breath in more than one way. Another visit is in the cards during the cooler months. Built between 118 and 138 AD the ruins of this single palace are extensive and gorgeous. It has been revered since Renaissance times and I had one of those moments, which I occasionally get in a Roman ruin, where I am overcome with the sophistication, beauty, and grace of the lives of the elite Romans. This architecture had a goal of impressing visitors, no doubt, but it transcends its “look how rich and powerful I am” mission into something profoundly pleasing. Which many of other such palaces don’t. Looking at you, Forbidden City.

Also near, and somewhere I am excited to visit, is the Villa d’Este, started in 1560. A masterpiece of Italian garden design, it’s known for its fountains, including one that is an organ fueled by water.

Tivoli is a great base for those seeking a deeper experience of Rome beyond the main sites in the center. Close by is also the Temple of the Vestal Virgins, among the other UNESCO sites.

Maremma

This part of Tuscany, bordering the Tyrrhenian Sea, is not very well-known. On the mainland there are many Etruscan sites and gorgeous beaches. Just off the coast are the islands of the Tuscan archipelago. We went for an a couple of nights to the Hotel Torre Mozza, with seven rooms. Our room was in the 16th-century watchtower that juts into the Mediterranean and had a door cut through the thick defensive walls opening over the waves.

The island of Elba is a short ferry ride away from Piombino. I had spent several days on the island a couple years ago, but this trip we just went over to the island for memorable lunch on a small square at the Trattoria Moderna di Matteo in the tiny town of Capoliveri.

“Ancora Tu” by Lucio Battisti 

Sebastian introduced me to this Italian mega-hit from 1976, “Ancora Tu” (“You Again”), from one of Italy’s biggest musical stars of the 1960s and 70s, Lucio Battisti. I just love the poignant way it captures the magic of a familiar love.

You again, it doesn’t surprise me, you know. / Ancora tu, non mi sorprende lo sai.
You again, but, weren’t we supposed to not see each other any more? / Ancora tu, ma non dovevamo vederci più?
And, how are you? Useless question. / E come stai. Domanda inutile.
You’re like me, and we can’t help but laugh. / Stai come me, e ci scappa da ridere.
My love, have you eaten or not? / Amore mio, hai già mangiato o no?
I, too, am hungry and not only of you. / Ho fame anch’io e non soltanto di te.
How beautiful you are, you seem younger / Che bella sei, sembri più giovane
or perhaps you’re just nicer. / o forse sei solo più simpatica.
Oh, I know what you want to know. / Oh io lo so cosa tu vuoi sapere.
No one, no, I just restarted to smoke. / Nessuna no, ho solo ripreso a fumare.
It is still you, unfortunately the only one. / Sei ancora tu, purtroppo l’unica.
Still you, the incorrigible one. / Ancora tu, l’incorregibile.
But to leave you is not possible. / Ma lasciarti non è possibile.
No, to leave you is not possible. / No, lasciarti non è possibile.
To leave you is not possible. / Lasciarti non è possibile.
No, to leave you is not possible. / No, lasciarti non è possibile.
It is still you, unfortunately the only one. / Sei ancora tu, purtroppo l’unica.
It is still you, the incorrigible one. / Ancora tu, l’incorregibile.
But to leave you is not possible. / Ma lasciarti non è possibile.
No, to leave you is not possible. / No, lasciarti non è possibile.
To leave you is not possible. / Lasciarti non è possibile.
No, to leave you is not possible./ No, lasciarti non è possibile.
Desperation, joy of mine, / Disperazione, gioia mia.
I’ll be still yours, hoping it’s not madness. / Sarò ancora tuo, sperando che non sia follia.
But, let it be what will be. / Ma sia quel che sia.
Hold me, my love, / Abbracciami amore mio,
hold me, my love, / abbracciami amor mio,
‘cause now I want it too. / Ché adesso lo voglio anch’io.
You again, it doesn’t surprise me, you know. / Ancora tu, non mi sorprende lo sai.
You again, but, weren’t we supposed to not see each other any more? / Ancora tu, ma non dovevamo vederci più?
And, how are you? Useless question. / E come stai? Domanda inutile.
You’re like me, and we can’t help but laugh. / Stai come me, e ci scappa da ridere.
My love, have you eaten or not? / Amore mio, hai già mangiato o no?
I, too, am hungry and not only of you. / Ho fame anch’io e non soltanto di te.
How beautiful you are, you seem younger / Che bella sei, sembri più giovane
or perhaps you’re just nicer. / o forse sei solo più simpatica.

Il cantautore italiano Lucio Battisti 1969

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On elections, mayors, and boars

Italy’s largest cities—Rome, Milan, Turin, Naples, and Bologna—recently held mayoral elections, as did our village. Perhaps our election was less covered in the international press, but that doesn’t mean that it lacked drama.

Rome’s election was largely about trash and wild boar. The incumbent, Virginia Raggi, the Five Star Movement candidate (an anti-immigrant, Eurosceptic, right-wing party), was elected in 2016 but didn’t even qualify for the 2021 runoff election, largely because of Rome’s handling of basic services. When I’ve been to Rome over the past few years, especially in the suburbs, I’d see piles of overflowing trash surrounding groups of dozens of mounded dumpsters every couple of kilometers. This plentiful availability of food is heaven for rats, of course, but also wild boar. The wild boar population in Italy soared during quarantine as hunting was suspended, made worse by climate change and a longer breeding season, and boar from the countryside around Rome have started to make their way into the city providing many moments that were perfect kindling for social media.

A video shot in a parking lot of a grocery store near Rome of a woman being pursued by a group of boar, who are after her groceries, got international attention.

Then, several days before the election, unfortunately for Mayor Raggi, thirteen boar decided to stroll down a busy Roman street, which launched a Twitter storm, including helpful suggestions that the bike lanes be replaced by wild boar lanes.

The mayor’s race in Rome was won by the center-left candidate, Roberto Gualtieri.

Which brings me to the photo at the top, which I cannot resist sharing, as we are on the subject of wild boar. As reported in The Guardian this hapless man was sunbathing in a park in Berlin in the nude when a wild boar ran away with a plastic bag that contained his laptop. The nudest gave chase. The photographer, Adele Landauer, stated he “gave it his all.” After he successfully got the swine to drop the bag, and his laptop was recovered, he returned to his sunbathing spot to the cheers of onlookers.

But closer to home, and back on topic, our own incumbent mayor was running against two challengers. (He is the first non-communist mayor the village has had since the war.) From when we moved here nearly ten years ago the election norms have changed. It used to be that the only sign of an election were a few posters in the square featuring the smiling faces of the candidates. But now glossy, color, multi-page booklets of campaign promises started to invade our mailbox several weeks before the election. A friend of ours declared that he was going to vote for the candidate who’d made no promises, said nothing, and published nothing. The day after our friend’s declaration the biggest, fatest pamphlet of them all, from candidate #3, appeared in our mailbox, nixing our friend’s well-thought out plan.

One of the candidates positioned himself as the outsider challenger, although he had been mayor before. One of his vows was to replace our centralized trash depositories, which some deem unsightly in “One Of The Most Beautiful Villages In Italy,” with door to door trash collection. As popular as this ideas was, the village has a strong collective memory and I kept hearing the stories of how when he had been mayor before he wanted a stronger connection between our village and the neighboring town. As much sense as this might make on a practical level he somehow overlooked the fact that we’ve always hated them, and they have always hated us.

They are a flat, larger town surrounded by the necessary modern bleak morass of car dealerships, gas stations, and grocery stores. They have a Renaissance center with a pedestrian-only main street that runs from one end of the old town walls to the other that is perfect for the passeggiata. A well-known artist friend of ours who grew up between our village and Milan has defined the passeggiata as the fatal flaw in the psyche of our valley neighbors. As they gather several times a week to parade up and down the main street, all dressed up to see and be seen, they have come to think of themselves as fashionable and superior, even though, according to him, they are mere bourgeoisie.

We are, to them, insular, brutish, simple mountain folk (probably inbred) who sit smugly in our steep, walled village and look down on them. This is true, both literally and figuratively. They are also jealous of our superior cultural events. This animosity is not a recent thing. In 1450 a group of raiders from the town breached the main 13th-century gate to our village and stole the gate key, which was not returned for two centuries and is now safely housed in a local museum. It was viewed as an act of hostility and the echoes lasted for centuries. In 1685, Federigo Nomi wrote a 11,848 line rhyming heroic/comic poem about the great key stealing event, and other hostilities between the towns, and was not afraid to name names of prominent local families.

This very gate was defiled in 1450 by the neighboring town when they stole the key. For 200 years.

I don’t know how deeply this historical slight influenced the election or not but the candidate advocating for closer ties lost to the incumbent.

We had a dinner party a few nights before our election and the most pressing topic was one of the candidate’s proposal to replace some of the paving stones in the square. The discussion of this went on for longer than one would imagine, largely having to do with how thick the proposed new, large pavers would be. Another hot topic is the state of repair, or more often disrepair, of the two elevators which whisk people from the lower parking lot up to the level of the town. The debate about these kinds of issues can get brutal, especially on the village Facebook group, where some of the election debates have not yet subsided and allowed us to get back to the usual discussion of lost dogs, weather, photos people take of the sun rising and setting over the village, and photos of transgressions to the beauty of the village of things like electrical boxes being placed over frescoes in historical niches.

The day of voting is always wonderful. The elections take over the village school, which to the delight of the kids is closed for election day and also the two days following so that the classrooms can be adequately disinfected. We always vote in classroom number 3, where our son attended fourth grade. One wall is all windows, has a door open to a grassy area outside, and is usually filled with sun. There are about five people running voting in each room. We happen to know everyone in number 3 so no IDs are needed. They hand us the ballot and a pencil. There are three small tables with little curtains and you unfold the paper ballot and put a huge “X”, in pencil, over the name of the person you are voting for. Then you fold the paper back up and drop it in a box. You know almost everyone walking to and from the school to vote, as well as having a coffee in the nearby cafe after voting. Voting here always brings a huge smile to my face.

The election, as well as re-entry to the world from quarantine, was the subject of this year’s village play, the Tovaglia a Quadri, which I will write about next week.

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Holiday gift inspirations: wearable history

As I described in a previous Itch, my saga to find an antique Roman coin ring has been achieved after many years of searching. But when I was thinking of special things I could share with you that would make great gifts, and easily ship outside of Italy, I decided to go back to the ring’s source and ask the owner what items he has at the moment that he particularly loves—it varies all the time as all pieces are one of a kind. The small store Serra, in Rome, mainly has beautiful china, silver, and crystal, but Alessandro (the fourth generation of the family to have the store) has a passion for history and antique coins and intaglio which he makes into jewelry. He speaks excellent English, can tell you the history of everything he sells, and the authenticity is guaranteed. And he is kindly offering Itch readers a 10% discount.

Something I learned from Alessandro while researching this article is that that making jewelry from coins and intaglio is far more ancient than I’d realized. As Alessandro wrote:

“The custom of encrusting coins to create jewelry is extremely ancient; its origins are to be found in the Greek world and the most widespread was in Rome between the first and third centuries AD. The Romans attributed a talismanic and amuletic power to the jewels thus made, giving the coin a much more complex task than that for which it was minted. Glyptics, or intaglio, are the “minute but not lesser” art of engraving precious and semi-precious stones (but also glass pastes). In Roman times they were widely used for rings, for men or women, necklaces, bracelets and earrings. The engraved stones were worked by skilled engravers — the themes of the figures were chosen by the customers or left to the aesthetic sense of the artist. Almost always the choice was of mythological or allegorical subjects. Still today there is a flourishing market of these ancient stones, which over time have been found because they were often removed and thrown away by those seeking only gold and silver, as by the Barbarians in the days of the invasions.”

Here are a few of Alessandro’s favorite things in the store at the moment. He, of course, has a much wider variety available. To purchase you can contact Alessandro directly at info@serra-roma.it. (I am passing this along because I love this jewelry … no commission.)

Silver ring with a Roman coin of a Gorgon DRACHM – NEAPOLIS (411-348 B.C.). Because of their legendary and powerful gaze that could turn one to stone, images of the Gorgons were put upon objects and buildings for protection. Reverse is Artemis. She was the Hellenic goddess of the hunt, wild animals, wilderness, childbirth, virginity and protector of young girls, bringing and relieving disease in women; she often was depicted as a huntress carrying a bow and arrows. € 670,00 + € 50,00 shipping with insurance (and don’t forget to ask for the 10% discount.)

Gilded silver earrings with original Roman coins depicting Julia Mamea and Emperor Septimius Severus. -Coin 1: Denarius_Front: IVLIA MAMAEA, draped and diademated bust right. JVLIA MAMAEA (180-235 AC). She was the nephew of the emperor Septimius Severus—guy on on the other coin. -Coin 2: Denarius_Front: SEVERVS PIVS AVG. Head right. LVCIVS SEPTIMIVS SEVERVS ( 193-211 A.D.). Born in A.D. 146 at Leptis Magna in Africa, Severus was a soldier of outstanding ability, holding a series of increasingly important commands until, at the death of Commodus, he was governor of Upper Pannonia. Severus was saluted as emperor by the troops at Carnantum. He spent much of his reign in campaigning in different parts of the Empire and also visiting many of the provinces. He died at York on February 4th, A.D. 211. € 890,00 + € 50 shipping with insurance (before 10% Itch discount.)

Gold ring with a Roman intaglio (Ist century A.D. – engraved cornelian) depicting two winged Nike facing each other. Nike is the goddess of strength, speed and victory. €2.550,00 + €50 shipping including insurance (before 10% Itch discount.)

 

Silver and leather bracelet with original Roman coin depicting Apollo. Denarius_ Front: Laureated head of Apollo. PANSA behind. Apollo is the symbol of male beauty, god of music, art, knowledge, illness resolution, archery and the sun. He is always depicted as a beautiful man with the perfect body form. Rear: C. VIBIUS C. Minerva who leads a quadriga at a gallop. Minerva was the Roman goddess of wisdom and strategic warfare and the sponsor of arts and trade. € 590,00 + € 50,00 shipping with insurance. (Before 10% discount.)

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The new man in my life

He may be a bit old for me, but everyone says he has the perfect body. He’s the mysterious, quiet type and never leaves my side. John doesn’t wholeheartedly embrace this new relationship but tries to understand my passion. My new love’s name is Apollo and he comes from around 90 BC.

I’ve been on an eight-year quest to find the perfect ring made with an antique coin. Nearly every window of any jeweler I’ve passed by for years has been scanned for “my ring” and always come up short. This quest hasn’t stopped with me—friends and family have also been on the lookout and will occasionally send a text photo asking “Could this be it?”

John, meanwhile, has been all sang froid and thought he had the perfect hand to play. We live on nine acres of land that is listed as archaeologically significant for possible Etruscan and Roman artifacts. Whenever I whined about wanting this kind of ring he’d tell me to go out in the yard and find the coin myself. Unfortunately all of our restoration, trenching for putting power lines underground, and gardening has turned up nothing more significant than broken bits of recent crockery.

So I meet my lovely niece, Christine Sarkis, in Rome as she started her Italian vacation. She’s a travel editor and had recently done a story about unusual stores in Rome, including a small store noted for its jewelry created from coins, called Serra. Mysteriously we found time in our crowded morning to go to the shop. And I met Apollo.

Alessandro Serra, the third-generation of the family to have the shop, became fascinated by Roman history, and through it, by coins, which helped to make the abstract tangible. The coins find their way into our modern world mainly as a result of having been buried for safety, particularly at the fall of the Roman Empire. When troves of a few hundred coins are found they find their way to experts who verify them, and then sell at auction (with the guarantee of taking them back if found to be inauthentic.) Alessandro started buying at auction and assembled an interesting collection from which he makes jewelry. Part of the reason that Roman coins are relatively plentiful is that the empire was so widespread, and controlled by soldiers, all of whom needed to be paid every month. Silver coinage was a way to do that and made its way to all corners of Europe.

In addition to being built Apollo is also the god of sun, light, music, truth, healing, knowledge, and the arts, all things I like. And archery, which I don’t know much about but am open to. On the back of the coin is Minerva in her chariot pulled by four horses. In Rome she was best known for arts, trade, and strategy.

I find meaning wearing something that was created by another human so long ago. That was carried around in so many pockets and traded for countless glasses of wine, meals, horses, bread, and God knows what else by people who were so different, yet exactly the same, as me. I was hiking recently on an Etruscan trail (next week’s Itch) that was stunning. I realized that it was more beautiful to me because the natural beauty had been shaped by humans living thousands of years ago. (Somehow more compelling than our more recent interventions. I wonder if a Target parking lot will every give a future generation a rush.)

My coin was widely used in 90BC and was similar to a nickle today. It’s called a denarius, from which many of the current words for money, like dinero, comes. It was the backbone of Roman coinage throughout the empire from about 200 BC to the middle of the  3rd century AD.

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My new favorite thing in Rome: Ostia Antica

Every so often Italy offers up something that takes my breath away. Ostia Antica is near the top of that list. This archeological site near Rome is huge, almost empty of tourists, gorgeous, and compellingly, unnervingly revealing of little human details of the 100,000 people who lived there in its prime, in the 2nd and 3rd centuries A.D.

Things like this bar, at the intersection of two major streets, with a mosaic floor angled towards the front door that roughly translates “Fortunatus’s Place. You know you’re thirsty — come on in and drink.”

The streets still bear the marks of the carts which passed over 2,000 years ago.

Ostia Antica was founded sometime between 700 to 400 B.C. as Rome’s port at the mouth of the Tiber. It thrived for several hundred years and then fell into ruin at the end of the Empire. The city was silted over after that, preserving it. It’s over 80 acres and only about 2/3 is excavated. I walked for hours, passing only a handful of people.

I found it humbling. It’s beautiful and sophisticated with everything a city needed: forum, baths, temples, theaters, fire and police departments with barracks, markets, guildhalls, factories, warehouses, shops with living quarters over them, and homes, both grand and modest. The city was originally five stories and there are still staircases that ascend into nothingness. The balance and harmony of the public spaces and private buildings certainly beat what I see being created today.

Little details reveal themselves everywhere. The mosaics are diverse and abundant. (I found a good collection of photos of mosaics here.) There are still remnants of decorative frescoes in some of the homes.

The site is not too hard to get to from central Rome—you can even get there on the Metro because Mussolini believed that the Romans all needed easy access to the sea, so the line was extended to the coast. It is also just a few kilometers from Rome’s main airport, Fiumicino. In case you’d like more information I found an article in the New York Times about Ostia Antica that was interesting.

Trust me, go. And for more ideas about things to do in Rome after you’ve visited the main sites, here’s an article with other places I love.

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