"Why not?"
"It's Chinese. Chinese is bad."
I laugh. I've been using it for years and my plants are flourishing. And, as a quick perusal of the bag confirms when I return to my flat, the only thing Chinese about the soil is that I bought it in a so-called Chinese shop. The soil itself comes from a region near Lake Trasimeno, in Umbria, most definitely not from China.
The Chinese shop is not, as one might think, a shop that sells Chinese food and objects, but rather a shop of Chinese (though in Italy the term Chinese is an umbrella term for almost all Asian nationalities) ownership .It sells just about anything at cheap prices. Over the years, 'Chinese' shops have popped up all over the city much to the annoyance of the native owned shops who do not appreciate the competition.
It's on the wrong side of the Cristoforo Colombo - a large and dangerous road that connects Rome to the coast at Ostia - and opposite the areas of Garbatella, home of the 'real' Roman, and San Paolo, characterised by the Basilica of St. Paul outside-the-walls.
The only tourists here are those who are staying in the large hotel, opened seven years ago, which backs onto the condominium complex I live in. I see them at the local discount buying pasta, tomato 'passata' and chocolate to bring home, some may even stock up on dried herbs such as basil or origano or dried peperoncino.
Now and again I have come across them in my local tabaccaio buying bus tickets and attempting to get information out of the owner Marco. He can't speak English and sullenly answers in Italian which the tourists can't understand.
"It's not as if I could speak Italian if I went to their countries," I've heard him grumble time and again. Fortunately, his impressively tatooed daughter, Chiara, knows enough English to communicate. Likewise, most of the staff in my local discount can say their numbers in English.
But what makes my area unpopular is that it bears the moniker - 'Tor.' For many people this puts it in the same class as such peripheral zones as Tor Bella Monaca and Tor di Quinto, sadly famed for their weekly drug busts.
When I moved here my ex-landlord laughed, "Eh! If you can't afford it you have to go to the periphery," he said, his large rotund belly shaking with mirth. Futile were my attempts to explain that I was still well within the city limits.
My Tor, that is Tor Marancia, was built up in the 1950s - a large part of the original dwellings were 'case popolari' funded by the state to provide housing for the poor, and they have remained so to this day.
On my road, on one side there are large expensive condominium blocks whereas on the other there is a chain of 'case popolari' apartment blocks.They may also explain why there are two discount supermarkets on my road.
Up until about five years ago there were no smaller grocery shops but in the last five years Bangladeshi and Pakistani owned shops have opened offering just a little bit more variety such as plantain, sweet potatoes and coriander, than the usual eggplants and zucchini found in all Italian supermarkets year round.
Every morning, bright and early, I walk my dog around the neighbourhood. We often go past Ali's flower stall next to the Pizza al Taglio(pizza by the slice) which is always packed to the rafters at lunchtime, and past a beauty shop until we reach a small park encircled by roads. There is a play area for children and a fenced in play area for dogs. Flocks of large grey green parrots feast on the grass and on the leaves. .
Before going into the doggy playground I check that a large male dog is not there. He tends to go for mine. He isn't. I go in and let my dog run free. Some men from the local tennis club throw in some used tennis balls and the dogs jump excitedly as the tennis balls bounce around them.
On Mondays and Fridays, the road that runs alongside the doggy playground is busier than usual. On a parking lot between the Cristofo Colombo and the park, three rows of stalls have been set up for the local market.
Three of them sell fruit and vegetables from the South of Lazio, one also has bread and large balls of mozarella cheese swimming in their milky brine. There are stalls which sell clothes with prominent labels stating 'Italian design' all the better to hide their actual, 'Made in China' or 'Made in Taiwan' status.
If anyone needs pots and pans, spare parts for their 'Foletto' vaccuum cleaners sold door-to-door, bed and bathroom linen, cushions, pictures, herbs and diverse plants, beads and other paraphernalia for do-it-yourself jewellery as well as clusters of garlic that could ward off the most fool-hardy of vampires alongside fragrant sachets of dried lavender which the vendor insists are from Provence in France, this is the place to come to.There is a larger daily market just up the hill at Montagnola which is specialised in food stuff, with excellent fish and meat stalls.
Once my dog has enjoyed her romp, it is time to head home. Sometimes we head down the graffitti-decorated road which passes by the old 'Fiera di Roma.' Most of the facilities are now disused, though a part houses a 'Police Car Museum'.
Or we go down a residential road on which there is the areas principal fornaio (baker's) who sells rolls, bread, pizza slices and rather dry plum cakes (none of which contain any plums - it's just a name).
In February 2015, the first of these facade-high designs went up. Each facade was painted in bright colours and various ways by different artists.
Today, a small number of visitors can be found walking among the buildings, admiring (or not) and photographing the facades.
At the foot of this complex, there is a small shop, my last stop before I complete the loop home.
I see a mountain of fresh artichokes of the type called mammole. The owner notes my interest, "they are from Sardinia. They are the best not like those Sicilian artichokes."
"Aren't the Sicilian ones any good?"
He looks disgusted, "tough. No flavour." He is Sardinian.
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