Balcony life

The day I came to Italy in July 1998 was a scorcher. I got off the train from the airport at Ponte Lungo and dragged my suitcase to the flat I was going to stay in. 

It was so hot the air seemed to shimmer. The tarmac was melting and the wheels of my case left tracks behind them. 

The city appeared to be deserted. The windows were all shuttered. There wasn't a person in sight. All the shops were closed. A bus rattled past as I crossed the road, it had only two passengers on it, a sad trail of blue diesel exhaust smoke floated on the air in its wake. 

It was also a far cry from the Rome I had visited the year before. I had been staying in a hotel near the central station of Termini and had never strayed off the well beaten and crowded tourist path. I was now getting my first glimpse of the Rome the vast majority of Romans lived in.

Once I got to the flat, I threw open the window and heavy shutters of my room, and let the hot outdoor air enter the cool dark interior. I didn't get it then, it took a while. The city wasn't deserted but the people were ensconced in their shuttered dwellings as protection from the sun. The heavy shutters helped maintain indoor temperatures cooler than outdoors. In those days few were the flats that had air-conditioning units.

I was to learn that just as Northerners dislike the rain, Romans dislike the sun and the heat. Indeed, in the holiday month, August, many Romans choose to go on holiday to Scandinavian countries or England, Scotland, Ireland, Germany, or if they can't afford to leave their own country they will head for the hills and the mountains of central Italy and the North. All that in a bid to get to some fresher air. 
  


And those who are sun-lovers will go down in droves to roast on the beaches of the South.

It was in those early months that I noticed that balconies were functional spaces, akin in some instances to a broom cupboard.  

In my first small flat on Ponte Lungo the balcony was tiny and overlooked a bus depot. It was home to the various brooms and cleaning products that the landlady had thoughtfully provided as well as a rope on which we could hang our clothes to dry.

On most mornings, my flatmate and I would get two of the kitchen chairs and sit out on the balcony. We sipped our hot coffees and gazed into the distant view over the bus depot of a church spire and clusters of TV antennae.

We even got watered on as our upstairs neighbour tended to her plants. Our cry of surprise startled her. She hadn't expected anyone to be there.
  
In the evenings we would enjoy a glass of chilled white wine as we chatted about the day. Rows upon rows of empty balconies stretched out around us. Some had clothes fluttering in the breeze, one had a family dog on it, other than that they were unused. 


Yet surely the balcony is another room to be enjoyed. My balcony is covered in plants: cacti, aloe vera, various herbs, cat grass, pepperoncino plants.... it's an ecosystem in its own right. A few bees flutter around and dive into the flowers.  I have a pigeon guest who likes to steal the cat food.  



 It's a little messy not like my neighbours' hyper-neat and weekly-cleaned balconies. There,  flowering plants are replaced every March, most having died due to abandonment over the Winter. There may be a some clean pots of ever greens. 

Once the local supermarkets stock the usual herbs: basil, oregano, parsley, thyme and rosemary, they may find themselves out on the balcony but not too near the edges for fear of the pigeons. The railings sparkle in the sun, they're so clean and the tiles are immaculate, the air is ripe with the smell of ammonia.

 On my less pristine 15 square metres of balcony I have a small table and two chairs so I can eat out there whenever the weather permits. 


I'm not the only one who does this. But none of my Italian neighbours do. 

In the really hot months, July and August I have my sun-lounger so I can enjoy the sun even more while keeping the flat shuttered and closed - as my flat is on the top floor this barely makes a difference.

 As the Winter falls away and Spring approaches it is once more time to plant some seeds, for the herbs and chilli peppers I like to grow, and start cutting away and clearing up the dead leaves that have accumulated over the colder months when the balcony is a little neglected. 


The animals start asking to go out again. The cat will scratch on the French window in the kitchen to be let out - no cat flap here - while the dog will more patiently stand by it and stare out as she waits for her human to open the door.

Give it a few more weeks and balcony life will be in full swing, the living-room forgotten until the following October.