Roma, sabato, end of October

What might the tourist see and hear when walking from Trastevere across the Trilussa Bridge to Feroci, the butcher-traiteur just behind the Pantheon?For one, he might come across an elderly lady with a husky voice, talking to a negozio, a shop owner, chatting and saluting - and find her talking to another negozio up the street, doing the same, as he walks back. She must be doing her Saturday greeting tour, pulling her trolly, perhaps on the way to the Campo dei Fiori market; a village scene among all the tourists filling up the alleyways to and fro from Campo dei Fiori, whose market is currently offering 'puntarella', a chicoree-type legume, which looks a little like escarolle salad - very tasty, a specialty available only for a brief season and quite expensive (€15 a kilo).  Of course, you can spend a lot more at Feroci, which offers the most succulent stuffed zucchini, beef filet and mushroom carpaccio, mozzarella-filled fiori di zuccha wrapped in thin white bacon - no artichoke carpaccio today!

At 26 degrees Celcius, the tourist is slightly confused weather-wise. Could this still be summer in October? Friday night, everybody and his uncle had been hanging 'round the Trilussa Square as if at the height of the summer season; Roman youth mixing with the tourists. On Saturday, the municipal cleaners waterspray the stairs leading from the bridge to the Tevere, to remove the piss of all those people, who did not bother to find another kind of toilet. 

After a bout of shopping, a caffe is called for, as always, at St. Eustachio's, where the cashier, one of the bosses ? - explained that their fine own-brand chocolate bars are made in France. Globalisation and branding infiltrate the best of coffee places even in Rome. 

Just before reaching the hotel again, a charming and quiet oasis of an ex-nunnery just above Trastevere, a motorino driver cuts a corner right in front of me. He was transporting 3 boxes of fruit or vegetables on his motorino, one of them between his legs - what a sight! Antiquated somehow, but also efficient. At the hotel, the interior garden invites the guest to have a peaceful cigarette, whilst a lizard whizzes along the stone encasements of a flower bed. Roma, ti amo.

Time to go. The airport was as busy as ever, Alitalia is still flying. I sat down near the departure gate, where another Lufthansa flight was closing. The gate staff were calling out for the remaining passengers for Frankfurt, moving into the terminal, calling out for Frankfurt passengers by clapping their hands, as a bunch of Italians, dressed in blue sports suits featuring the Italian flag on their backs rushed to make it to the gate. No angry tones to be heard though, no bossing around, no; the gate staff were ultimately forgiving, understanding. Would they have behaved the same way with foreign passengers? Probabilmente.

Recurring Themes

Remember "Rebecca", the Hitchcock movie based on the Du Maurier story, where a world-weary Lawrence Olivier asks innocent and naive Joan Fontaine (what a name) at some spot along the Cote d'Azur: 'So what did your father paint?' - after she'd told him that's what her father had been (doing). 'He painted trees'. 'Trees?' 'Well, yes, one particular tree. He made paintings of the same tree. All his life.' She does explain this to Olivier, a la seeking perfection, an ephemeral pursuit, hopeless, of course. 

This scene is not an important one in the Rebecca plot, but I'm reminded of it when I  listen to Anton Bruckner's symphonies; repeated (magnificient) attempts at conjuring the same atmosphere, composing the same tree, so to speak. A recent biography tells me that's not the case, but judge for yourself. Listen to Bruckner's 3rd, 6th and 7th, and let me know how you see it, hear it, rather. In any case, Bruckner offers a delightful melange of the bombastic and fine, the brassy and violinistic, the lightly dancing and portentous, I ask you to give him some 'time of day', some time. 

Not quite sure how I believe this image from Urbino relates - religion, maybe? For Bruckner, yup, could be a match.

Music makes the world go round

Those high notes, jingles, beepy jumps up the scale, they get me every time - be it a disco song or a symphony (listening to Bruckner's 3rd just now). Is this genetic, Pavlovian conditioning perhaps? Whatever.

MGMT, or Management, a band of two young men plus entourage have touched upon my high note g-spot with their song "Electric Feel".  It's a psychedelic tune, with some depth (you know, not this flattish synthesizer sound), upbeat, dancy. For some reason, I imagine MGMT is on the verge, creating a singular sound, they'll experiment more and do good stuff.

On another note, Jorge Ben's "Take it easy, my brother Charlie" played on the radio a few weeks ago and struck me. Never heard of the musician before, ordered a CD, which finally reached me via the US or UK, thank the internet. Another kind of happy sound, Brazilian version, which I hope you enjoy.

Once in a while I do sit down and just listen to music, fervently, attentively, allowing myself to become enveloped with it. Wonderful.

Sweet and astringent

It's been a while. And this movie hit the spot, my spot, anyway. Lemon Tree. Few words spoken and all of them convincing, essential; like a biblical story, if you see what I mean. Israel, West Bank, that's where the plot unfolds. Lemon trees have surely never been more symbolic, but there is no heavy-handedness to this film - well, very little. Three female Supreme Court judges hear the case of the Palestine woman wanting to retain her lemon tree plantation, which the Israeli state wants to erase for security reasons. The judges do not engage in female bonding, nor do they risk questioning the logic of current security legislation. No heavy-handed Hollywood happy end, I repeat.

Facial expressions that speak a 1,000 words - the heroine does a fantastic job of that. Absurdity is lovingly portrayed, carefully, but for the end, where it's laid on a touch thick - not in any way annoying though. The ending fits. I entreat you to go see this film and lemonade will never taste the same.

Agricultural Myths

T'is not an title easily translated. Joseph Reichholf wrote "The Dance around the Golden Calf" - more like "The Brouhaha ..." in 2006, subtitled "Europe's eco-colonialism". Unfortunately, an english translation has not yet been published, though of course other authors have dealt with the same subject-matter. Reading this book has changed my 'regard' of countryside panoramas, such as my favoured Gers, in the SW of France. As a whole, we eat a lot of meat in Europe (and increasingly, elsewhere too). We cannot feed all that intensive-agriculture livestock with homegrown foodstuffs, so we import it. That's where burning tropical forest for soybean field comes in, and GMO agriculture. So, as I for instance support a Greenpeace campaign to protect the Amazon rainforests, I null and void that effort by eating excellent Charolais fed with imported grains. Okey, I can try an make sure that the meat I eat is 'locally fed', organically of course - but that's as a drop in the ocean. Just go visit Danish bigfarms.

Reichholf is most enlightening on the realities behind the myth of agriculture beneficial to maintaining the countryside, e.g. our 'nature'. I too succumb to this myth (see Gers, etc.). In fact, intensive livestock farming floods our ground water and river systems with silage, which makes our highly advanced waste water treatment efforts more or less redundant. Agricultural waste products (from silage to tractor noise) are not subject to environmental legislation.

A powerful read, regrettably for now only in German.