The Rose Garden

On the Aventine hill opposite the Circus Maximus is Rome's rose garden: 10,000 square metres covered in rose bushes from all over the world. There are about 1,100 different types of roses - from the gaudiest to the most exquisite, from China via Mongolia to Italy. Some of these lovely flowers are here for Rome's annual rose competition,  the 'Premio Roma', dedicated to the most beautiful new variety of rose, others are part of the permanent collection.

This year's competition took place on Saturday 20th May, rather unfortunately a warm muggy stormy day. This being Rome, the storms were so intense that they flooded several stations of the underground. 

When I visited the rose garden two days later, the aftermath of the storms was visible on the rose bushes with their water damaged petals bearing the marks of a serious lashing. 

I got off at the wrong stop which meant crossing two of the busy traffic-congested streets  which surround the Circus Maximus. I climbed back up the hill slightly annoyed. I'd always thought there was a stop on the highest point of the hill opposite the entrance of the rose garden. It turned out I wasn't wrong. The stop was for tourist buses.

I crossed the road and went onto Via di Valle Murcia. There were two gates one allowing access to the upper garden and the second to the lower. Last time I'd come here I'd started with the lower half so reason dictated that the upper half was the way to go this time.

To the left of the gate was a large sculpted stone plaque with Hebrew writing on it. On top of the stone were smaller pebbles and stones that were stacked in remembrance. It reminded me of the final scene of 'Schindler's List' ( the acclaimed Steven Spielberg film) where in the final scene, Jews placed stones on Schindler's grave. 

It's an unusual memorial to find at the entrance of a rose garden. But in the end not so unusual when I find out that the garden is set on the site of an ancient Jewish cemetery.

The hill was covered in bushes and vines until the 16th century. In 1645, it became know as the 'Orto degli Ebrei', though for many Romans it was the 'Ortaccio degli Ebrei' ( ugly market garden of the Jews). A small Jewish cemetery was established here. In 1934, the Jewish community obtained a section of the Campo Verano cemetery in the San Lorenzo district of the city. The cemetery was moved to the Verano. For many years the site was abandoned and left to weeds.

An American woman, Countess Mary Gailey Senni, married to the Italian Count Senni,  designed Rome's first rose garden in 1932. In those days it was on the Colle Oppio ( Oppian Hill). She faced considerable opposition and resistance but she was passionate about roses and very determined. She got her way (she was wealthy). In 1933, the first 'Premio Roma' competition took place.

But a great big monster called the second world war came along and the garden on the Colle Oppio was smashed to smithereens. The idea remained. In 1950, a new rose garden opened on the Aventine hill and the competiton was reinstated.

To thank the Jewish community who had allowed the use of a sacred area, a stelle ( commerative plaque) was placed at the entrance of both the upper and lower gardens to remind visitors of its original use.

The paths in the upper part of the garden are laid out in the shape of a menorah, the seven branched candelabra symbolic of the Jewish faith.

I turned right as I entered the gate and walked up towards a trellised tunnel adorned with various rose bushes with climbing stems of roses upon it. There was an English rose section followed by a miniature section. 

 A rather kitsch rose heart stood a the centre of the garden - a perfect photo op or selfie op for the gardens visitors. 

I paused at the information centre with its large photos explaining to visitors the process that went into growing roses. It was all very attractive but rather lacking in substance. I suspected that most visitors only looked at the photos anyway. 

I climbed further up past the rose adorned heart. A family posed as lower down on the central alley of the menorrah, a father snapped his wife and children. 

I left the trellised walkway and stepped onto a branch of the menorrah. Information was scarse. Where was the prize winner anyway? 

The garden is organised into different areas: ancient roses, modern roses and the new species, about 80, entered in the competition. It turned out the upper garden dealt with the permanent collection whereas the lower garden held the prize winners.

 I stepped off the menorah, crossed Via di Valle Murcia and walked through the gates into the lower garden. A small notice close to the gate indicated the names and numbers of the prize winners. But that was it. No indications as to where the winners were. I guessed maybe the central area, a large well-tended oval would house the winning bushes. 

It did. There was also no indication as to which was a winner. I walked around the oval, then walked among the competition bushes: from France, from the USA, from Italy.... and they were numbered. But, not having a pen, I hadn't noted the numbers of the winners as indicated on the photocopied sheet pinned to a post besides the entrance to the lower garden. 

They all looked beautiful to my eye though I've never been too keen on the oranges and yellows. This was where the rose garden failed. More information would have been welcome at this point.

An American prize winner (I Think)

I walked around the bushes. I watched a woman with a real camera take shot after shot. Some kids played on a tree - the perfect climbing tree. The hoses on timers chugged around, dousing some visitors. It was a hot day. Nobody minded.

It was time to go. The roses were beautiful but I couldn't help but feel a little annoyed at the lack of information so typical of Rome. Surely it wasn't that difficult to put up some kind of sign indicating the winners beside the winning roses? Even if, it was only two days after the competition?

I walked down the hill towards the bus stop. Yes. The rose garden was a beautiful place. Yes. Maybe even romantic (if one was into kitsch) as a number of websites suggested. There was some competition though: the orange garden on the Aventine, the view from the Gianicolo...

. As it turns out the site of the rose garden, way back when was dedicated to flowers. In his annals, Tacitus in the 3rd century ad describes the temple of the goddess Flora. The 'floralia', celebrations to the deity took place in the Spring on the Circus Maximus.
The Aventine hill had always been an oasis for the cultivation of flowers.

Dirt, degradation and beauty

I'm sitting on the bus. I was lucky. It arrived on schedule and wasn't too full. I'm sitting near the central door, the one from which people are meant to get off. The doors at the back and front are for getting on.

In front of where I'm sitting is a couple with two heavy suitcases. Their daughters are in the aisle. The oldest is swinging from the higher handholds. 

The mother glances up from her map, "Serena, stop that. We're not at home." She observes me observing her.

"Excuse me. can you tell me if we are far from our hotel?" She speaks slowly, over-enunciating the words and is clearly relieved when I answer in English.

"It's another 6 stops. that's where I'm getting off," and so a conversation starts punctuated by the loose rattling of one of the buses fittings as we bump over pot-holes and cobbles. They are from London and are spending the Easter weekend in Rome. They're already concerned about their early flight back on Tuesday and a little anxious about getting around on public transport. I reassure them, from their hotel the 160 bus will get them to all the tourist sites they can visit in a weekend.

"That is so ugly. And it's everywhere," the mother says. I follow her gaze to a graffitti covered wall alongside the road we are travelling on. 

"The train from the airport was covered in it," says her husband. I nod. There isn't much one can say. Buildings all over the city in all areas have been defaced in such a way. The authorities seem unable to do anything about it. 

 A judge in Milan recently let off two teenagers who were caught in the act. They came from a 'good family' as they say (i.e. wealthy) and their misdemeanour was to be ascribed to 'the high-spirited pranks of youth."

We have arrived at our destination and alight from the bus. I point out the large modern block of their hotel. Alas, the walls sport the works of the 'writers', the name given in Italy to people who squiggle lines all over buildings and monuments. I sadly observe the over-flowing bins, the weeds growing out of cracks in the pavements and the abundance of excrement from the neighbourhood dogs left there by their lazy owners.

There is in fact a rather bizarre rule which states that dogs can dump in the street provided it is in the area around the base of a tree. There the owners don't have to pick up. I know this because a magistrate, Labrador owner, had proudly told me he never cleaned up after his dog. He must have read my look of distaste. He reassured me and explained the rule. His dog was well-trained.

The family have one last question, "is there anything to visit here?"

Big City Life facade

"Here?" I echo. The 'Big City Life' project springs to mind, a group of buildings whose facades have been decorated by the works of street artists. The idea being to create an open air art gallery. Such works have cropped up, on commission, all over the city. I blame the graffitti artist, 'Banksy', for the craze.

I shake my head, "No. There's nothing much here." The murals of the Big City Life project aren't aging well.

Big City Life detail

I wish the family a pleasant holiday and cross the road. Here too, outside the gate to my appartment block, the bins are over-flowing. Large bin liners are lining the pavement. The crows have been at them, they are full of holes and remnants of food are strewn all over the place. Later, the rats will come and get their share. 

The newish mayor, Virginia Raggi, a proponent of the Five Star Movement was supposed to get to grips with the rubbish problem and clean up the city but  so far the problem seems to be getting worse. 

Discarded cups

It's hard to say what the mayor has achieved since she took office almost a year ago. She changed the austerity Christmas lights on the Christmas tree on Piazza Venezia after citizens complained, she signed an ordinance forbidding people from eating in cabins on the beach, and brought the speed limit on the Cristoforo Colombo down to an absurd 30kms per hour. She may have done a few other 'useful' things. 

Unfortunately, in many areas the city itself seems to have become a gigantic waste disposal plant: abandoned fridges and old TVs are left on street corners, filthy mattresses, stained sofas are left curbside as well as mountains of old clothes. Some roads and areas (such as Ponte Galleria or along the Magliana) are notorious for the amount of discarded household appliances and furniture that can be found on them.

The farmers' market in Garbatella

The centre, the area the tourists see, is the tidiest. The areas tourists rarely venture to are the dirtiest and the most run down. Not that that has stopped people blaming the state of the streets and the increase in rubbish on the tourists. 

But maybe it's the tourists the Romans should be thanking. In the last few weeks the dirt of Rome has made it to the foreign press, notably the New York Times. It's a real 'figuraccia' for the city. 

People have taken to the streets in some areas, brooms and  binbags in hand to do the work they pay for. Some politicians have tried to benefit from the situation. Finally, the rubbish trucks have rolled out and started clearing up the waste in the outlying areas. 

Let's hope it lasts.

 

Notes on Rione Trevi

I'm in the Trevi district today, Rome's second administrative area. It isn't big, only fifty-five hectares but there's THAT fountain. Rome's largest Baroque fountain and one of the world's most famous. Anita Ekberg waded into the fountain and cavorted under the gushing water in Fellini's La Dolce Vita. A scene which, over the years, has inspired many. 

Just this past April a young Italian stripped and swam across the fountain. A week later a young Spaniard stripped and dipped into the fountain to purify himself. Both were greeted by the polizia municipale and handed a 450 euro fine. Bathing in Rome's fountains is strictly forbidden. 

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 Trevi fountain facts  

1. The fountain was designed by Nicola Salvi even though he didn't win the contest for the commision organised by Pope Clement XII. Alessandro Galilei won the contest but as he was a Florentine, the Romans were  outraged so the Pope gave in. Salvi, a Roman, got the job. He never saw the finished work.

2. It is 26.3 metres high and 49.15metres wide.

3. It spills around 80 million litres of water a day. 

4. It is made of Travertine stone which was quarried from Tivoli (a town 35kms east of Rome).

5. It is situated at the junction of three roads (tre vie in Italian) hence its name

6. An estimated 3000 euros are thrown into the fountain each day. It is, of course, forbidden  to steal the coins that are thrown in the fountain though many have tried.

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Daily thousands of tourists gather round the fountain with their annoying selfie sticks. They try to grab a photo with the stunning white backdrop of Neptune but without the hordes of other people trying to do exactly the same thing. Sometimes I wonder: do they actually see the fountain, or is it just another photo op? 

But the Trevi district isn't just about a fountain. It encompasses the Palazzo del Quirinale, one of three official residences of the President of the Repubblic. 

Set on the highest of the seven hills on which Rome was built, it's a massive building (110,500 square metres), the ninth largest palace in the world.To give a sense of its gigantic size, the White House in the USA is one-twentieth of its size.

But what really catches the eye on Piazza del Qurinale is the central fountain - the Dioscuri Fountain. It features 5.5metre-tall statues of Castor and Pollux taming horses. They had previously flanked the entrance to the baths of Constantine.

The obelisk in between them stands 14 metres high and originally came from the entrance to the mausoleum of Augustus. As for the central basin, it was an ancient Roman shell which had been used as a trough on the Roman Forum.

I head down some steps onto Via della Dattaria and into the heart of the Trevi district. It is crowded as ever. A sign indicating the archaeological remains of the acqua vergine acqueduct catches my attention. But the entrance to the site is closed and hidden behind a metal shutter with no indication as to when it would open again. 

I beat a retreat and find myself in front of a Magnum store. I shake my head. Why in a country with the best ice-cream in the world would they do that? The store is full of young tourists all eager to dip their Magnums in melted chocolate, cover them in multi-coloured sprinkles and customise their treat.

I continue my walk and on a deceptively small Piazza dominated by the blinding whiteness of the sculpture is the Trevi Fountain. A police car is parked on a corner. The vigili are keeping an eye on the crowd.

This time I ignore the fountain and turn up a narrow alley way. People are ambling slowly up it. Some stop at the souvenir shops which line the streets, others queue up for an ice-cream from one of the many 'gelaterie' on the streets where even if they are not the best ice-creams in Rome, they will be more genuine than those on offer at the Magnum store.

Viccolo Scanderberg, one of many alleyways in the Trevi area.

But before heading for the last marvel of the area, I go and check out a curiosity, one I often took for granted as I would hurry to the 'Quirinetta'  theatre in its incarnation as an original version cinema. 

I first passed through it on a guided tour, a year before I moved to Rome. It was one of these mad dashes where in three hours the principal sites were covered: the Colosseum, Piazza Venezia, the Trevi Fountain, the Pantheon and Piazza Navona. It was spitting with rain that day and our guide led us through some back alleys to the Trevi Fountain. We paused for shelter in the Galleria Sciarra. Our guide had little time for our questions, "it's just a passage way," she scoffed and waved her yellow stick to herd us along.

Galleria Sciarra which links Piazzetta del'Oratorio to Via Minghetti is in the Roman Liberty style. Its central part was painted between 1885 and 1888 by Giuseppe Cellini. The main theme is a celebration of woman as angel, wife and mother.

Most tourists tend to come across it almost by accident. It's not sign-posted as if the authorities want to keep it hidden.   

My final stop in the Trevi district has to be Piazza Barberini  and the Fountain of the Triton, sculpted by Bernini. It was commissioned by his patron Pope Urban VIII (Maffeo Barberini) to stand on Piazza Barberini near Palazzo Barberini which today houses the Galleria Nazionale d'Arte Antica. The Galleria is well worth a visit.

Piazza Barberini is surrounded by streets and at certain times of the day jam packed with buses, taxis and other vehicles. It's also one of the most polluted areas in the centre of the city. The fountain has had over the years a number of expensive clean up jobs to remove the grime coughed up by the traffic.
 
The fountain bears the Barberini coat of arms: three bees under the Papal tiara and the keys to St. Peter's. The bees symbolised hard work and dedication. It was the last work Bernini did for his patron as Urban VIII died shortly after its completion.

As I wander through the streets of the Trevi district I realise that I haven't found the district's crest: a shield with three swords.

All the old bins, large metal containers with the district's crest in gold, in the central touristic part of the city, have been removed. No doubt another security measure. The new bins are plastic stands with large transparent bin bags. Unattractive but all the rubbish is visible so nothing can be concealed in them.

Eventually above a large McDonalds sign I find an old shield. But the symbols have been erased by time and all that can be read are the words 'Trevi'.