Saturday 23 September 2017

September 10-15: HEADBUTTING MODERN AND OLD: FOUR DAYS FOR FOUR MINUTES AND FOUR SECONDS IN ROME

German graffiti on an ATAC train in Rome


For sure, leaving the Puglian red earth lands is a wrench. I've managed to get covered in paint, dust and dirt to my satisfaction; swum in the Adriatic; been appalled at the amount of rubbish on the beach (plastic, cigarette butts, plastic, glass bottles, more plastic); gone barefoot, patted dogs, painted boards and fed mosquitoes; seen my friends and the progress of their permaculture project; eaten fresh fruit from the trees for breakfast; and have an invitation to return and work/learn/live there next March. I down a train travel ritual caffè corretto con grappa at the station cafeteria to soften the farewell blow. 
 
It'll take two trains to go cross-country. The first is a fast regional north to Foggia, with ample final views of olive trees…


 
...and the Adriatic out the carriage window. After lunch and a second coffee in Foggia station's cafeteria I transfer onto a fast Frecciargento to Rome. 

My seat neighbour, an Italian oncologist living in Florida - who's both jet-lagged and hungover from a long-weekend trip to a friend's wedding that took place the day and night before - taps nervously at her phone. Stateside, Hurricane Irma has cancelled her flight and she needs to re-book to get back home for work.  

For whatever reason the train wi-fi is down. Could be caused by the big storm in Rome, finally giving the parched city a little rainy respite from heatwave 'Lucifer', the density of the raindrops blocking the signal. But the oncologist blames Italy - to add insult to injury our fast train is on a go-slow, and running progressively later - we eventually arrive at our destination 50 minutes behind schedule. Whatever the reason for the wi-fi blockage, it proves to be an omen for my stay in Rome.



At Roma Termini the evening sun is shining but gaps in the steel of the building are still dripping heavily from the storm, puddles wetting the platforms. I subway and try to ring my host but the public telephone won't accept my Telecom Italia card, then eats my ninety cents without making a connection. In retrospect, another portent. 

The public transport connections, at least, run smoothly. Metro B to Piramide. A quick directional piece of advice from a Russian woman involving Italian, Russian, a snatch of archaic song about an eagle, and information for finding the correct platform. Onto another train going west out towards the beach.


A metro train arriving at Vitinia station



By a seeming miracle my friend Geraldine is at the top of the escalator. Psychic telegram? No, technology. She's checked some app on her mobile phone and seen my fast train was running late. I drop off my luggage and we go out to eat.

The next morning I wake up in my gorgeous, patio-garden-adjacent suite at my friend’
s home, permaculture, and B&B project, RIPE (Roman Institute of Permaculture Experimentation), https://www.facebook.com/RIPESBB/ but my computer refuses to wake up with me. The next two days are variations on this: 

Deep inside the third? fourth? unsuccessful slow motion wi-fi old ops system reinstall

This isn't how I've envisaged spending time in Rome. The vision being: head into the historic centre, find an arty location with high foot traffic, make poetry books there, meet people, and with luck find chances to surreptitiously sell them said poetry books and publicise my upcoming reading. It seems I still haven't done a high enough level of esoteric practices to be able to see accurately into the future.  Which is, essentially a four day residency in RIPE’s big living room.

Breakfast cleared, time to head for the IT desk at the other end of the table

Nevertheless, maybe my past can help. Half my life ago, before mass, worldwide, neo-right, labour-market deregulation, and the massive growth of the precariat https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Precariat I used to study part time, almost never work a full-time week, and nevertheless earn shitloads of money, as a mainframe computer operator. If it's a software problem I know I have the hard-wiring to fix it myself.   

But sometimes knowledge is a curse. What I haven't reckoned on are the limitations of Italian telecommunications infrastructure - in many areas still not fibre-optic, but running through copper cable - which means network overloads and slow connections. 

Two and a half days, a bit of swearing, periods of rational calm, and one pragmatic and necessary hard-drive erase later, I bite the bullet and go to the nearby Apple store. The saint-like technician plugs a magic cable into their own hard-wiring and the Sierra operations system is back in five  minutes. I treat myself to a Roman felafel and a Croation beer in the late afternoon sun.

When I get back to RIPE I start restoring programmes, tabs and bookmarks, and compare notes on the day with everyone else. The Dutch guest, Paula, on a ten-day holiday, has accomplished yet another awesome, incredibly full day of sightseeing. The Russian guest, Kristina, has done a ton of study towards her upcoming engineering exams. Geraldine has made it to her first black-belt aikido lesson of the season. The three cats slink in for food and return to the warm night. System operations update: happy and calm. 

Experimenting with alternative forms of communication with plants from the garden at RIPE.  A Sicilian zucchini trombetta  PHOTO: Geraldine Schreiber
The next day I finally make it out to see some of the sights and get a bit of a feel for the eternal city. On the 280 bus from Piramide https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pyramid_of_Cestius we pass a very high, long, impressive, old stone wall thing that I can't identitfy, and a fellow passenger offers me some of her anti-inflammatory salve for my swollen ankle.

I get off at Ponte Sisto to cross the Tiber. The bridge is swirling with hang, didgeridoo and electric guitar music, and a lot of arty types catching a few late afternoon rays. I record four minutes and four seconds of video, then sit and stamp titles on the covers of a few poetry books. It’s exactly two months till my next birthday and these moments are a treasured early gift.

Then I cross the rest of the bridge, pass Piazza Trilussa into the Trastevere district, go and do my show at Almost Corner Bookshop https://www.facebook.com/Almost-Corner-Bookshop-183431962225/ meet some lovely people, and perform the miracle of making it snow in Rome.
 
Evidence of climate change PHOTO: Madeline Wulffson
Afterwards, Geraldine and I wander the lively quarter's pedestrian-full alleys and streets, pause for a very cheap beer at a very popular bar, then walk along by the river past Isola Tiberina and another big old stone thing...
We have no idea what this old stone thing is

Given my gaps in knowledge about historical landmarks, it's hard to believe that I studied Latin and Roman culture and history. It's almost as if all memory of it has been erased from my mind, just like all the old data on my hard disk. At least I have a little evidence that I came and saw, and conquered some IT opposition.

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