Mi garba Garbatella

The tip of my nose is cold. Strange. My dog is nestled against me. The old cat is on the pillow.  I glance at the clock and hazard an arm out from under the duvet. It's cold. It's also 8 o'clock and the centralised heating has been on for two hours. To little effect, or so it would seem. My bedside clock indicates 14°C. So for the first time this winter the temperature outside has dipped below zero.

I get dressed quickly. In Scandinavia in the winter they get temperatures of minus 20 but the houses and flats are a balmy 20°C. In Rome at the first whiff of colder weather (it never gets that cold despite what some people might think) and the heating system demonstrates just how useless it is.

Maybe a coat for the dog today? We head out towards Garbatella and the farmers' market where I can get a week's supply of fresh vegetables and some of that delicious Lariano bread, perfect for making bruschette or bread soup, or some fresh, stuffed pasta. The thought of fresh lemon ricotta ravioli or pumpkin almond tortelli buoys me on. 

 We cross the mighty artery that is the Cristoforo Colombo, every junction has a commemorative plaque or some flowers, testimony to how dangerous the traffic can be. Last year, on this very spot, a cyclist was knocked off his bike by a bus. The cyclist was on the cycle lane but the driver of the bus never saw him. A white bicycle attached to some railings is all that remains to remember a life.

I pass in front of a juggler, even in this chilly weather he is trying to coax a few coins from the jaded motorists waing for the light to turn green. We walk past the great ugly 'Regione Lazio' building - scene of a scandal or two over the years and where from time to time lacklustre demonstrations are staged. 

Just past the roundabout, a man warns me to be careful. There are gypsies with a nasty dog that he says could attack my dog. I thank him for the warning. Fortunately, I'm not going in the direction he has indicated.

 Piazza delle Sette Chiese, part of the pilgrim trail, is quiet this early. A man is feeding some pigeons who flutter around him. The birds swoop, dive, nip and jab at each other as they come in for a crumb. We walk past him into the old part of Garbatella with its project units known as 'lotto'. On the buildings the original stones still mark which number 'lotto' they belong to.

The area was built in the 1920s, the first stone was laid by King Victor Emmanuel in 1918 on Piazza Benedetto Brin.

 Each lotto is made up of several buildings grouped around a common yard or garden. All the families in the 'lotto' could meet if they so wished in these common shared grounds - they were also known as Case Popolare, the rents were cheap.

Today, the cachet of the area has changed. From its origins as a rather seedy area associated with lowlifes and criminals ( as the crow flies it is close to the infamous 'Magliana' district)  it has become trendy. It is seen as an enviable place to live.  Rents have sky-rocketed especially since the closure of the old 'mercati generali'. A popular TV series 'I Cesaroni' depicting the travails of the Cesaroni family, is set here.

The modern area of Garbatella surrounds the large road, Circonvallazione Ostiense, which since a new bridge was built over the metro tracks, links up with the Via Ostiense and thence towards the south of the city. Along this main thoroughfare are all the principal shops and restaurants as well as Garbatella market. Behind the market, towards the train tracks, is a large hangar which houses EATALY a shop and series of restaurants dedicated to promoting Italian food.

On my way to the farmers' market I always pass a curious structure it's a primary school. Four large eagles perched atop indicate its fascist origins. It and the rectangular piazza on which it stands, Piazza Damiano Sauli, were built in the 1930s. 

At  the end of the road, I go down some battered steps littered with broken beer bottles among the weeds. The round structure in front of me is covered in street art and graffitti, the Roman wolf adorns one wall, a clear reminder, as if I needed one, that Garbatella is indeed the true heartland of the Roma (football) fan.  

I go up one of the side ramps into the edifice, a round high ceilinged room which has been partitioned off with large cheerful panels indicating farmer's market. When I discovered this market, at the beginning of 2015, it was seldom busy but it has been found by others. 

There are so many people the sound of their talk is echoing off the vaulted ceiling. My favourite vegetable stall is heaving with produce: large dark green savoy cabbages, cauliflowers, chard, artichokes...... The woman who runs it is running about filling brown paper bags, weighing and toting it up. She's busy. At the goat cheese and truffle counter, a few people are trying some samples. 
 
  I get what I need and head out down past the grandly named, it is an imposing structure, Pallladium Theatre. It also dates to the 1930s. The architect was inspired by ancient Roman architecture. Sadly, due to lack of funds the theatre has had to close down. We loop back up the hill towards the 'Regione Lazio' building. 

 We pass more of the 'lotto' , some of the edifices within are grand, others are smaller. Laundry is draped out of windows on wires to dry in the cold breeze. "Sunday, laundry day", I think.  A wall I see has it's top bricks painted in yellow and red, the Roma football team colours of course. 

Piazza delle Sette Chiese is now bustling with life. Mass is over and the congregation has spilled out onto the square. Children are kicking a ball around, dogs are baying at each other, the 'Pizza al Taglio' shop has a few early customers while the 'gelateria' is closed. Most ice-cream shops close in winter for their annual holiday!

I bump into a fellow dog walker who has just been to the dog park next to the shared communal gardens, an area tended by the inhabitants with flowering plants, fruit trees and a vegetable garden. On a previous visit, I had been saddened to notice the reported theft of a tree. The place is open to all. Who would do that?

My shopping bags are weighing me down a little. Time to hurry home. The juggler has moved on from his post at the traffic lights. Too cold? Or maybe he's earned enough for a warm mug of hot chocolate.