La neve
The snow
“Nevicherà a Roma?” ( “Will it snow in Rome?”) I asked when I heard the weather forecast.
“No,” everyone said. “Nevica ogni morte di papa.” Literally, it snows “every death of the pope,” or once in a blue moon. The Pope is alive and well, but today Rome saw its first nevicata (snowfall) in decades.
I was so engrossed in my reading in the library of the American Academy of Rome that I gasped at the sight of show covering the lovely garden By the time I left the Academy a few hours later, two to three inches had piled up.
I tried calling a radio-controlled taxi (06-35-70, if you’re ever in need). The line was busy. “Impossibile,” said the guard at the gate, explaining that the streets of the Gianicolo (one of Rome’s famous seven hills) were too steep and slippery for driving. Even the autobus and tram had stopped service.
Delighted children were throwing snowballs. Tourists were snapping photos. How could I possibly get down to Trastevere, cross the Tiber, negotiate my way to the Corso, veer off toward the Piazza di Spagna and arrive at our apartment on Sant’Andrea delle Fratte in time to change before meeting friends for lunch?
“A piedi!” (By foot!) the custodian suggested with a shrug of his shoulders. At least I was wearing fairly sensible shoes (scarpe) rather than heels (tacchi). I glanced at the snow-covered sidewalks. If any Romans own snow shovels, I saw no evidence of their existence. I concentrated on only one thing: not falling.
The snow turned rapidly to slush (a word that doesn’t translate into Italian). At every intersection deep puddles of semi-frozen water formed. I inched my way down the marble staircases of the Gianicolo.
Above is a photo of what I found in Trastevere: lines of snow-covered Vespas along the uncharacteristically quiet streets.
I also found a taxi with a driver who described himself as “stressato” because of the snow and the icy streets. When he dropped me off, he told me only two things would make him feel better: caffe and amor (which, he also pointed out, is Roma spelled backward).
Dianne Hales is author of LA BELLA LINGUA: My Love Affair with Italian, the World's Most Enchanting Language.
