I was 10 or 11 years old when Rome showed up on my radar for the first time. I lived in the Simon Stevinstraat near the ‘Field’, a scanty lawn larded with dog shit. I went to the Koningin Wilhelmina School, a half Calvinist, half Reformed Protestant institution. Next to the ‘Field’ was the Maria Immaculata School, a catholic elementary girl school. This school was a mystery to me. In the mornings the nuns arrived cycling with their black robes flapping surrounded by happy girls, all fighting to be the one to put the bicycle in the rack.

I never came further that the aula of the school. During the summer movies were shown for the children of the neighborhood. I did not see many. My best friend Peter, who lived next to the ‘Field’ saw more. He was a big fan of a catholic Tarzan who fearlessly flew through the jungle. Did he sing Psalms? Did he carry an alms bag? I forgot the name of the in a short chamois leather trousers from liana to liana dangling hero. The advantage was that when we played jungle on the ‘Field’ I was allowed to be Tarzan…

But this text is about Rome. One Saturday afternoon I went to see a movie in the school. The story was about a circus group that visited Rome. A poor baby elephant escaped and lost its way. The search through busy streets and alleys followed. A couple of nuns found the beast and brought it back safe. I understood half of the story (for some reason I still have problems understanding stories when I see movies), but the black and white images of Rome with many Fiat 500 cars chasing round is engraved in my memory.

I went to the Rietveld Academy and became a fan of the Italian Neo Realism. ‘Bicycle Thieves’, ‘Umberto D’, ‘Riso Amaro’, 'La ciociara' with the actresses Sofia Loren, Silvana Mangano and later of course (for the experts) ‘La Lupa’: Anna Magnani! In ‘Rome Open City’ German soldiers shot her dead. This scene made the movie famous.

I went to Italy with a scholarship, not to Rome but to Florence. My fascination for Rome remained.

ROME AND THE POSSIBILITY TO START A NEW LIFE

After a summer holidays in 1983 spent with mostly Italian friends I went to Rome for a couple of days. I had met Lunetta, an actress. She invited me for her birthday party. Roberto Begnigni came in (he was already quite famous), shook everybody’s hands and left, apparently not very interested in staying.

Lunetta was hopelessly in love with a guy of the lights (a fat dumbo with a thin beard); she paid little attention to me.

And then Mimma entered… accompanied by three guys. She belonged to a species undoubtedly much superior to me.

Trying to treat me a bit decent, Lunetta introduced me to a Belgian girl. The both of us showed little interest: ‘Nice to meet you and how long have you been living here’ and more empty crap. Besides, I was about to leave for Amsterdam, facing a new life in an old environment. From the corner of my eye I had noticed Mimma trying to follow the conversation. Which language had we spoken? Not knowing how to handle this party, I sat in a corner waiting for the right moment to go for the door.

And then Mimma stood before me. She asked me to guard her purse while she went dancing with one of her chaperones.

I had just suffered from an impossible romance with Giovanna. It had been a shadow play of ‘I love you, why don’t you love me, why don’t you understand that I love you, why do you treat me so bad when I have the best intentions…’ I had to start a new life without Italy present. And here I sat with Mimma’s purse… After a couple of dances she sat next to me. What should I talk about? I still had two days left in Rome.

I had my sketch block with me. She showed interest, even more when I pulled out my Japanese filling brush. She wanted to try it and wrote to my stupor this in my block:

Encouraged by this message I asked if we could meet the next day. The gates to Rome had OPENED!

She was script girl; we would meet at a bar frequented by many of Cine Cittá on piazza del Popolo. I sat and wandered over the square for three hours, the square is big…

WHY ROME WILL NEVER TASTE THE SAME AGAIN

I was back in Amsterdam and on one of my trips I met Gianni in 1983. His house was on a corner of Campo dei Fiori. That square was not too touristy then, it smelled authentic.

Gianni studied art restoration. He had made friends with Anna who had finished the same studies. She maybe even gave him lessons. They were best friends with the same passion.

As is the case with many Italians, they were part of a group of friends who saw each other almost every day. Other members were Stefano, Teresa, Cosetta, Annarita and Alain.

Meeting point was Gianni’s house.

The bar downstairs had a great granita di caffe con la panna and on the square we’d drink a prosecco before hitting the town.

Around the corner in via Giubbonari I bought trousers, ties and shirts, so a bit of Rome went back home with me.

Anna lived nearby, across the Tiber in vicolo del Cinque. Stefano had an apartment with amazing views on Rome around the corner of vicolo del Cinque.

Is the Osteria Cacio e Pepe in Trastevere the place where we ate that dish? Was a film or documentary made about the owners, a bunch of former criminals? I have lost so many automatisms; I could get there even blind folded. Spaghetti caccio e pepe is the ultimate Roman pasta dish. And so easy to make…

Another important place in Trastevere was the trattoria da Augusto. You went there for lunch. Augusto had a speech disorder. The menu card was never to be found, so you had to ask Augusto what there was. If you asked him to repeat he’d throw you out; a good guarantee for no tourists visiting. When staying at Anna’s I’d go there a lot. After three visits nobody came to bring you knife, fork or wine. You had to get all by yourself. This enlightened Augusto’s fury. The only remedy was to reply firm: ‘Augusto, se non le prendo io, me le porti tu?’ (Augusto, if I don’t take them, will you bring them to me?). It was finished off with a hissing ‘Vafangule’ from his part.

He also might decide what you’d eat. I experienced more, but I leave it with this. The food was simple, good and cheap. No tourists searching in a guide next table, I was in Rome surrounded by Romans!

Gianni, Stefano, Anna and I visited the San Clemente. On the lowest level under the church was a Mithras altar in one of the Roman houses.

I understand ambivalent feelings. It has to do with passion. Gianni felt an enormous urge to steel the statue of the altar. For at least ten minutes we tried to figure out a plan. Gianni would hide it under his coat, I was the look out and the other two would distract. The tension mounted to an extreme level before we went home without realizing the theft.  

In Mantua I visited the work site in the Palazzo del Té. Gianni and other students restored the frescos of Mantegna. I could have touched the nipples of the putti on the ceiling.

It is still the philosophy of the Italian state; students restore their treasures. It is for free. Once a recognized restorer you can often expect nothing but garbage to work on.

I saw the bronze statue of Marcus Aurelius in the institute. I discovered that the statue is hollow inside. The skin should be as thin as possible. Not all is what it seems…

The ultimate occurred in Milan. It was during one of my ‘sales’ trips to Rome and nearby. I had gone to a party in Rome with many students and restorers. Was … there whom I had met in his studio? He had restored a stolen Giulio Romano (from the palazzo Farnese); the job was half paid, so the work was safe till later plans.

I had been somewhat present at the party; I blame the prosecco.

In Milan I visited the ‘Last Supper’ of Da Vinci. I could not see much. Scaffolding made a good view impossible.

I wandered round disappointed. I saw a handsome woman walking back and forth, holding up a strange ticking object. I looked at the object, I looked at her and she looked back and talked to me… ‘We met at the party in Rome! Do you want to see the fresco from nearby?’

The face of Jesus looks like a brown bread crust. Out of respect I didn’t touch it, nor did I touch the woman.

Many such wonders happened to me. And then the contacts faded. An intense relation with Anna ended. Important to mention is that Anna made me fall in love with Stromboli. I even wrote an appliance letter for the job as postman. I sent the letter before the movie with Massimo Troisi came out, but who will belief me, I never received an answer.

Years went by. I met the circus group ‘Circo a Vapore’ from Rome. I performed with them in Rotterdam; they stayed in ten at my place. Luckily they had no elephant routine. I had a brief affair with one of the girls.

More friends lived in Rome… I waver like a butterfly or should we say a moth… Piero had found home in Rome after Milan and Palermo.

In 1995 I picked up where Anna, Gianni and I had left. A renaissance of the friendship flourished. Anna had become the chief of the National Institute and Gianni worked in the museums of the Vatican.  Then Gianni fall ill and passed away. In 2011 Anna commissioned me his portrait. Click on the grey word Gianni to see it.

Stefano ordered his (for that portrait, do the same).

In 2015 I received the shocking notice that Anna had suddenly passed away. In the blog of March 11, 2016 I tried to honor her.

Why do I write all this? Not long ago I posted a bull sketch on the media. Maria Grazia had bought the sketch at her house exhibition and she reacted. Things never come alone. Maybe we repeat the show and maybe we can add other initiatives. It’s years that I long to saunter through the ‘viuzze di Roma’. This is called nostalgia, a new start has become quite out of reach. And the city has changed so much…

I thought that once my active life is over, I will poise in a hammock between two olive trees, a glass of wine in my hand, enjoying the sweet memories of my adventures.

Piero asked me to help harvest his olives in October…

Should I go or wander through the alleys of Barcelona like a lost little elephant to be rescued by nuns? 

Click on the image for some music.

Barcelona, July 12, 2020.