Week 4

The Piazza: A Cultural Experience

Whether it be at the base of the Spanish Steps, or beside a narrow road by the Pantheon, piazzas are everywhere in Rome. A piazza, much like a shopping mall or public park, is a place of connection and socializing. Usually in the heart of shopping areas and restaurants, these squares (or circles, or ovals, or rectangles) are paved for the pedestrians and usually center around an obelisk or fountain.
In Rome, the piazza is the ideal place for observing the culture and personalities of the Romans, as well as the tourists and travelers that journey to this crowded city by the thousands. It is not only possible to observe, but also participate in the daily activities of the natives of Rome. In Castel Gandolfo, for instance, a small town up the hill from our campus and home for two months, children play soccer around the fountain and between the shops and decorated outdoor restaurants.
Last weekend, as my fiance and I were shopping around for miniature sculptures and scarves for family and friends back home, a group of children were kicking around a ball. One child kicked the ball hard enough that it started toward the edge of the piazza, and consequently to where we were standing. Just as I began to wonder whether or not I should allow the natives around me to gather the ball and send it back, an Italian man in his mid to late twenties ran up and kicked the ball back toward the children. Strangely, I was disappointed, as if I had been rejected by the culture, by the community that is the piazza.
Just as the pout began to form on my mouth, a boy of about three years dropped a ball he was carrying around with him. The ball started to roll toward us, like the time before, and the toddler waddled his way after it, a silly grin plastered on his face. There was a momentary pause in time where I had to make the crucial decision, for a second time, whether to stay an observer, or to emerge myself in the community that is a piazza, and thereby emerge myself in Italy. I bent, picked up the ball, and carefully handed it back to the handsome child. His grin widened, my heart swelled, and he ran back toward the other children. For five seconds, I was completely and utterly Italian. No one wondered where I was from, who I was, and whether or not I would respect their culture and traditions. No one sneered, pushed, or laughed at broken and improper beginner Italian. I was accepted, fully, by that child, and nearly skipped my whole way home.
Piazzas, whether they be spaces for tourists to ask directions, or travelers to feel like Italy is home, are chances to observe, understand, and emerge into the Roman culture. Though at times they can be the most irritating places to be, crowded, noisy - uneven and filled with puddles from a recent rain -- there are those brief moments, seconds of time, that remind us what a piazza is. What Rome is.