Exploring the Esquiline

The Esquiline stands the tallest and most extensive of Rome's famed seven hills of origin. To the modern day visitor it is associated with the hub of chaos and noise that is Rome's central station - Roma Termini - and it is home to Rome's ethnic market, once on Piazza Vittorio, now inside a more recent edifice round the back of Piazza Vittorio. Even though it is called Nuovo Mercato Esquilino, it is no longer so 'nuovo', as it moved to the site over ten years ago.

The area is known for its many Indian, Chinese, Korean and Thai restaurants which sit alongside some of the cities cheapest (but not very good) tourist restaurants. 

My first foray into the district was over twenty years ago when following the advice of my backpacker's guide book I sat down for dinner at one of the latter. The service was fast, the food unexceptional and, just as the guide book said, the bill was totted up on the paper tablecloth. It was cheap though. 

Aside from being an excellent place for food, Rome's mercato centrale, was recently opened in a renovated side hall of Termini station, the Esquiline also comprises the Basilica of Santa Maria Maggiore, Santa Croce in Gerusalemme, the remains of the Aqueduct of Nero which provided water for his Golden Palace (Domus Aurea), Porta Maggiore and Porta Tiburtina, the temple of Minerva Medica on Via Giolitti as well as the largest porticoed square in Rome on Piazza Vittorio where in the summer a three-screen open air cinema is set up.

There was a cool breeze blowing when I got out of the metro at San Giovanni as well as an ominous cloud covered sky offering the promise of rain. First things first, I got a quick snack to eat in the narrow park that ran alongside the city walls, the Aurelian walls named after the Emperor Aurelius, from Porta San Giovanni to the Basilica of Santa Croce in Gerusalemme. 

This being the year-of-the-immigrant a number of them were lying on benches or on the straw-like grass, which I've always figured must be itchy to lie on (not to mention all the bugs). I passed an elderly Italian who was enjoying an al fresco pee as undoubtedly was his dog. I watched the pigeons flutter in and out of perches on the city wall and ate my surprisingly tasty tuna, egg and lettuce pre-packed oily bread sandwich. Someone in the manufacturing process had come up with the idea of adding a squeeze of lemon to pick the flavour up. 

Sandwich polished off and bird watching bored, I moved on. I passed the dog play area where a black and white setter was cavorting around. It was opposite the deserted kiddy playground. Iit was just after lunchtime. I could well imagine Italian mamas' concerns over the hazards of going on a swing or down a slide as the digestive process starts. 

Santa Croce in Gerusalemme underwhelmed in terms of appearance. It stood a symmetrical block with saints atop - San Giovanni in Laterano's plainer, duller brother.However it is one of the pilgrim seven churches. Nothing tempted me to take a peek inside, but to be fair, I'm rarely attracted by the insides of churches and basilica. Too often they are displays of tacky opulence which make me wonder what happened to the poverty vow. On the piazza outside was a cute fountain with three angel heads spitting water, or at least, fitted to do so. No water was flowing. 

I passed the granatiere museum (grenadiers). There was also a fanteria (infantry) museum hidden further back. Who visited them? Maybe some nostalgic retired service men?

I strode on. The air was thick with car fumes which reminded me of something I'd read. People in big cities breathed in as much smoke as heavy smokers, mainly from exhaust fumes and other minuscule air pollutants. I was approaching one of Rome's busiest junctions. It was also an important, but neglected, Roman ruin: the grand old Porta Maggiore. 

I passed through an arch in the Aurelian walls and there standing tall and solid was the white travertine marble Porta Maggiore, originally called the Porta Praenestina because of the road that used to pass through it. It was built in 53 Ad under the Emperor Claudius at the convergence of the aqueducts Aqua Claudia and Anio Novus. Two important roads passed under the arches, the Via Praenestina, which led to the town of Palestrina, and the Via Labicana, today called the Casilina. The current Via Labicana runs between the Colosseum and the hill which comprises the Domus Aurea.
On the attic of the gate are inscribed words of praise to Claudius, Vespasian and Titus, all of whom were involved in work on the 11 great Roman aqueducts. 
In 271 the Emperor Aurelian integrated the gate into the Aurelian walls, early evidence of architectural recycling. It became known as the Porta Maggiore (Great gate) either because it is the most impressive gate in the walls or because one of the roads from it leads to the Basilica of Santa Maria Maggiore devoted to worship of the Virgin.

One of Rome's most interesting tombs stands outside the Porta Maggiore, the baker's tomb, built as a large baker's oven. It was erected in the first century by the baker, Marcus Virgilius Eurysace. He was a former slave who had bought his freedom. The tomb was intended for him and his wife. 

Nowadays Porta Maggiore is a noisy, busy traffic junction. Roads lead from it to Termini Station, to the center of Rome or outwards towards the University District of San Lorenzo and further onto the Casilina. Three tram lines cross here and the archaeological site acts as a tram stop each side serving different destinations. It is chaotic and dirty.The weedy dust that surrounds the monumental gate is strewn with all manner of litter: broken beer bottles, metal cans, plastic wrappers as well as discarded garments and lost shoes.

I head away from the gate, down Via Giolitti, the road which runs down one side of Termini Station. I want to find the Temple of Minerva Medica. I know it's up here. I pass the offices of Porta Portese, the paper that advertises just about anything. An old tram rattles disturbingly close past me. It's empty. Other than the tram and a passed out wino the road is deserted. 

The first thing I learn about the Temple is that it isn't a temple but a 4th century nymphaeum which was once mistakenly identified as a temple to Minerva Medica mentioned by Cicero. The actual temple is believed to have existed on the Esquiline but closer to Via Merulana. The octagonal structure of the nymphaeum is well preserved though the roof collapsed in the 19th century. Today it is a largely forgotten ruin stuck in an unpopular rather seedy neighbourhood. Part of it has been restructured and visible up the inside was some scaffolding.

I turn off Via Giolitti down a small tree lined road which leads onto Via di Porta Maggiore one of the large avenues which lead up to the Esquiline's most important square Piazza Vittorio. The avenue is lined by restaurants, Chinese owned clothes and shoe shops full of very little, and some of Rome's cheapest hotels. 
I tuck down the side of Piazza Vittorio onto Via Principe Amedeo where all the ethnic supermarkets are as well as some Indian restaurants. I stop off to get some Chinese chives, coriander and mange touts, this is the only place I can get them.
I return to the grandiose but dilapidated colonnade that runs around Piazza Vittorio. A sad shadow of its glorious past.

 It is the biggest square in Rome and it was built after the unification between 1882 and 1887. It was named after the first Italian king. It is made up of 280 columns and the large luxurious buildings had originally housed the dignitaries of the different Ministries in the area.

Today the vast area under the colonnades is neglected with scuffed tiles and plaster peeling from the facades of the old palazzi. 
The vast trading store Mas (Magazzini allo Statuto) has gone out of business leaving behind boarded up windows and dusty hoardings. Mas began its life at the start of the 19th century as a luxurious three floor shop with enormous crystal chandeliers. In pre-first world war times it was the shop of the wealthy bourgeoisie. Over time and as the area changed to become Rome's largest ethnic district the shop became a symbol of cut price everything and was nicknamed the temple of trash.

Many cheap Indian fast food restaurants have started up in the area adding to the piazzas run down, beat up, down-on-its-luck image. These restaurants facades are brightly, garishly plastered in photos of the dishes served within - though if the food is as bright as its pictures suggest, it might be an idea to stay clear. Under the porticoes stalls are set up selling clothes, shoes, pots and pans... a sad display in a place which had been once so magnificent.

During the edification of Piazza Vittorio extensive excavations revealed large pauper's graves from the ancient Esquiline graveyard where slaves, miscreants and assassins had been interred. To make the piazza and its gardens, churches and buildings were knocked down.

All that remains of one of the most important palazzi in the area, the Villa Palombara, is the porta magica (the magic door) - a door engraved in alchemist formulae. Beside it, like guards, stand two squat marble statues representing the Egyptian god Bes. 
It was built in the 1600s by the Marquis Massimiliano Palombara. He was part of a group called the 'alchemists of Palazzo Riario.' They gathered at the court of the Queen Regent Christina of Sweden who was a supporter of alchemy, science and great thinkers such as Descartes.

The magic door is the only one that remains of five gate doors to Villa Palombara. According to the legend the marquis met an alchemist at a dinner party who claimed he could change metal to gold with some special herbs. By morning the alchemist had vanished leaving some gold flakes as evidence of the successful transformation with an indecipherable sheet said to contain the alchemical 'recipe.'  The Marquis was unable to read the inscription so he had the recipe engraved around his doors in the hope that one day someone would be able to read and understand it. Strange beliefs still surround the door fueled by the mysterious symbol on top of it. 
Today the lone surviving magic door stands beside the remains of the nymphaeum of Severus, also a survivor as it is one of fifteen monster fountains which used to exist in Rome.

In the center of the park is a fountain by Mario Rutelli, (grandfather of a past Roman mayor, Francesco Rutelli). It has been dubbed by the locals the 'fritto misto', as it shows a man intertwined in a dolphin intertwined in an octopus but in such a way that the marine creatures are hard to distinguish one from the other. It used to stand at the center of the fountain on Piazza Esedra but was replaced. A 'fritto misto', by the way, is a typical antipasto made of battered and fried fish and vegetables such as baccala (cod), stuffed zucchini flowers etc... Try one when in Rome.
 
I crossed over into the park where a large screen had been erected for the summer outdoors cinema. Rain was imminent, the clouds were pressing down ever closer. 

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A flock of pigeons were pecking at some bread and pizza crusts that had been tossed on the ground. As always lots of people were sitting on the benches some eating, some drinking,some listening to music or reading books. The roses were in flower. Near the nymphaeum, in a palm grove, a person was sleeping (passed out ?) on the yellowing grass. At the foot of the nymphaeum reclined some Roman street cats, safe behind the barriers that protected the monument from human predators. A grey tabby sat proud on a fallen stone.The cats had water and no doubt one of the many gattare would come and feed them. The colony was known as the cats of the porta magica as their enclosure comprised both the nymphaeum and the gate. Maybe they knew something about it that humans didn't? Who knew what went on at the darkest hours of the night? 
The porta magica half hidden away didn't look as scary, or magical, as some stories would suggest. I felt no emanations of occult forces, though I wouldn't have minded if any stone I picked up changed to gold. I could always do with some more gold in my life!
 

My walk was almost over. I left the park through one of its large black wrought iron gates. I crossed the road opposite the gaping maw of a metro A entrance. I walked under the portico to Via del Statuto past the demised Mas building. One of my favourite shops was closed for lunch, it sold all manner of pulses as well as Middle Eastern produce. Next to it was the famed Pasticceria Regoli. In the window were some tempting cakes topped with a crest of small wild strawberries or large coronas of marzipan. I was making for my last stop, large wet drops plopped out of the sky with instant soaking effect. By the time I stood outside the Basilica of Santa Maria Maggiore my feet in their sandals were soaked through. A gull seemed to be enjoying the rain alongside a crust of pizza a tourist had tossed it. I stood beside the fountain at the foot of the Column of Peace, a 14 metre column which once stood in the Temple of Peace (later Basilica of Massenzio). Up high stands a statue of the virgin. The rain was now bucketing down. The two armed soldiers standing guard on the piazza made the basilica uninviting. It would for now remain one of the umpteen places of holy worship I haven't visited yet in Rome. I crossed the road to the bus stop. I was lucky. The bus came by within five minutes.

Ostia

I have never been well-disposed towards Ostia. Maybe because of an old Gerald Seymour novel, I read it before I came to live in Italy, which described only too eloquently the seediness and filth of its free beaches (also something very nasty happens to a female character there). Maybe because it's where writer/poet/film director, Pier Paolo Pasolini was murdered. It could also be because of the constant Ostia Mafia stories in the local press. 

All too evidently it could be because of the level of pollution. The mouth of the Tiber empties its filth into the sea at Fiumicino, where Rome's biggest airport is located. It pollutes the beaches along the coast causing mountains of foam on the beaches, waters so murky that your limbs become invisible as soon as you enter them, and large tides of blooming toxic algae responsible for nasty skin rashes which extend as far up the coast as Fregene. This doesn't stop thousands upon thousands of Romans from heading to the coast as soon as the hot weather hits the city. It may be, as is said of the Neapolitan and the bacteria filled water of the bay of Naples, that Romans, having grown up and every summer bathed in the waters of Ostia, are immune to whatever they may encounter there. 

Ostia is connected to Rome via a direct train line which also stops at Ostia Antica, a far more worth while place to visit than Ostia Lido. The modern town was developed in 1884 near the ancient settlement after reclamation of some  malaria-mosquito-infested marshland (the pond of Ostia). Once the train line opened  in 1924 the resort became a Roman favorite and many Art Nouveau houses were built along the sea front.

After the second world war many beach establishments (stablimenti) were built on the beach. This lead to a boom in tourism further enhanced by the opening of the Cristoforo Colombo avenue which connects Ostia to the EUR district in Rome. A road only too well-known nowadays for its high levels of fatalities. However, as of the early 1970s the effects of pollution began to be noticed and less people came to the beaches. Thus began Ostia's decline. 

Going there on a busy weekday morning, as I waited for the train at the station of San Paolo I was puzzled by the contradictory information that kept flashing up : treno fuori servizio (train not running) then followed by 'next train to Ostia:11.33'. I wasn't the only one confused. However, as there were quite a few people on the platform it looked as if the train was running. It was. At a punctual 11.39 it rolled in, reminding me of its nickname the 'misery' line. The Rome Ostia line is notorious for its frequent breakdowns, delays and at rush hour over-crowding which has lent it another unattractive nickname: 'the cattle shuttle.' Just a few hours earlier the train had been stopped for an hour between Ostia Antica and Acilia because of a 'guasto' (breakdown).
 My trip was uneventful, a slow trundle through the dusty suburbs of the city past vast clumps of overgrown weeds and grasses, some yellow grass fields and blocks upon blocks of siena, ochre, bronze buildings in differing states of disrepair.

I came out of the station underpass onto a vast piazza full of yellowing trees and dotted with bus stops. Round the square ran a covered arcade full of typical seaside shops touting beach toys, swimsuits and other sea paraphernalia as well as an ice-cream shop (gelateria), a bar and a large supermarket. I was headed seawards, basically a straight line from the central station. 

I crossed a street, walked past a closed funfair and in front of a church, Santa Maria Regina Pacis. It all looked abandoned and forlorn. Broken beer bottles and cans littered the pavement. I crossed another street in front of the town hall, the Palazzo del Governatorato: it's a vast edifice, it was built in 1924 and elaborately decorated with a dark sea-themed design all over its facade. It once housed a primary school.

I walked down a pedestrian street towards the sea front and the long line of bathing establishments. The area had been cleaned up and lots of restaurants offering various takes on sea food and fish have popped up since the last time I was there. 

 I crossed over onto the lungomare and the pontile an inelegant cement structure that extended out to sea. The water was still murky and the beaches were largely deserted. The season hadn't yet started. A lone crow seemed to be enjoying the sea breeze close to an over-tanned elderly woman who appeared to be preening herself and smiling in a way that suggested she might have been a few clams short of a bouillabaisse. A couple were taking a selfie, at least there weren't any high walls for them to fall off. I watched the waves ebbing and flowing, breaking in a foamy mass over some rocks. A lone surfer glided by. It was hot. 

I walked back towards the central square, a small fenced off path led to a tiny free beach. It looked as if the town council weren't giving away too much for free. But I knew that the larger free beaches were out of town at the cancelli (the gates) setting of a nightmarish scene in a Seymour thriller. 

In recent years, Ostia has hit the headlines only too often with Mafia related tales and scandals. Drug raids, savage attacks against reporters, drive by shootings and the like pepper the Ostian daily routine. The current Mayor, Virginia Raggi, has vowed to fight the scourge but as Ostia residents only too well know: "if you don't see anything, and you don't say anything, you've got a good chance of making it to an old age." The problem persists.