In addition to the majestic umbrella pines, Rome has other big branching trees that form an iconic part of its landscape. The plane trees in particular are massive and branching—and it is not until springtime that your appreciation of these giants depreciates if only for about a month.

“It is driving me crazy,” my hairdresser said to me one morning while I was in his chair, “For three weeks now the street has been closed and it’s impossible to get around.”  He was talking about the many, weekslong road closures that were going on throughout the city in order to complete the large-scale tree pruning. Potatura in the Italian language. I completely agreed with him as I had already spent multiple commutes finding new and undesired ways back home , often coming upon roadblocks that were made worse by crappily-parked cars that made for skinny and crooked passageways. Once I got close to home, I’d then have to pull up next to the cops controlling traffic to tell them I needed to drive down the closed street just so I could get home. Va bene. 

The trees are a majestic and emblematic calling card of Rome—but they do come with their price.

Last week I was walking to work and found myself suddenly coming upon a cloud of tar fumes emanating from an asphalt vehicle that was laying down a much-needed resurfacing. Clearly there was no way I’d be continuing up my normal street, so instead I opted to ring around a longer way I knew and simply chalked as some bonus time outdoors. Good for me that I knew the alternate routes in this city, I thought to myself with a bit of satisfaction. I carried on, but then, a few hundred meters later, I came across more city tape.  My way forward as a pedestrian was definitively cordoned off. More potatura up ahead. I looked around with a bit of exasperation as my only option now was to join the very busy street and see if I could manage my way to work come un gatto in tangenziale….like a cat trapped in the middle of a ring road. 

Some days are just like this. 

Yesterday I passed the same spot that marked my ill-fated diversion between road paving and tree pruning. While the street was now nicely resurfaced (a godsend in Rome until one remembers that smooth streets only encourage reckless driving), I stood and waiting for my turn to cross at the newly-painted zebra crossing. I looked down and notice that there was something on the side of the road. It was a decapitated traffic light—the kind that always surprises you when you are right up next to it because you don’t expect it to be so big. I wasn’t sure what happened, but for sure it seemed to be leftover from whatever street improvement they were doing just days before.

This morning I walked again by the spot where the traffic light had been resting. It had moved, and now I saw that, it was up against a wall and cozied up to a case of Peroni beer—with half of the beers consumed and neatly lined on the wall. The traffic light had been further broken down into individual pieces like a deconstructed puzzle…and I couldn’t begin to understand what had just gone on in the past 24 hours.

There are a lot of inexplicable aspects of our towns and our cities. And sure, most of them don’t warrant deeper consideration (like the traffic light)—and yet others can become so maddening that you can’t help but stay stuck on them.  And so you think about them, you write about them endlessly as if by doing so, dealing with these realities will somehow become less inconvenient. 

This afternoon I was trying to get to a supermarket on foot that was further afield than the one I usually frequent (I was on the hunt for the spring’s dwindling supply of Pocket Coffee).  Much like the asphalt/tree pruning experiences, I quickly found myself having trouble getting across a wide expanse of parking lot. While it might be a pain to drive and park in Rome, cars are still king and they will come to a rest in any space that is subjectively interpreted as a parking space. And they will do it at every angle known to geometry. Sidewalks, zebra crossings, and of course, the complete disregard for abiding by the “guides” known as painted parking spots. I had trouble as one human body snaking through the parking lot because everyone was parking at angles and with no room for passage.

The mechanisms of Rome are not the same as those found in a Swiss watch…but then again, a Swiss watch and Rome are both marvels for very different reasons. I try very hard to remind myself of this when I get frustrated. It’s a constant cycle of “Jaysus” and “Oh wow, look at that!”. 

In my last blog entry, I talked about the war as well as the flowers of Rome. I mentioned how right now I am waiting for the wisteria to come out, and there are spots which I am watching closely for the first signs of color. Today I walked by the same hotel with overhanging flowers, and right now there is still no sign of purple. Only the yellow flowers that match the mimosas who have now gone past their “Sell by” date. Other trees in Rome are starting to show their purple buds—but these are not the wisteria. I am still waiting for those. 

And the afore-mentioned plane trees- now post-hair cut with only their bony fingers pointed upwards—I wait for them to grow in and also return to their splendor.  It won’t happen this spring- but later down the road once they have recovered from what the city has done to keep them in check so that ultimately, we humans of Rome can continue to move about without one day perhaps getting squashed.

I think a lot about how we live our lives according to tradeoffs—what is acceptable, what is not. What we will put up with in the name for a life that we enjoy. For me, I have many days where I get home and think “What the heck is even going on out there?” but then there are other moments where I think, “It’s incredible what is going on out there.”  I know for sure that I will continue to complain and marvel simultaneously about the heartbeat and circulation of this city—but I recall that we all are doing the same thing. Stay tuned for the update on the flowers—I promise that they more than make up for the many petty observed inconveniences in navigating this particular city.