The sun’s shining confidently today in Rome for what seems like the first time in weeks. The rainfall in fact has been making headlines here, with storms flooding towns and even causing a few fatalities. I’d like to think that we’ve reached the end of this bad weather stretch, but even while driving home yesterday, I noticed that the expansive sky was two starkly different shades of blue:
To the west, you had a harmless looking celeste color (sky blue, as we boringly call it in English). But as you moved your eyes across the expanse, once you reached east it was altogether indigo, with curvy outlines signaling low yet billowing clouds. What I found wild was that it was impossible to point out the point where the color transition happened. This was a front on the move—but I could not tell where the beautiful day ended and the foreboding one began.
This sky has been par for the course as of late. About a week ago I was on the autostrada heading north. While moving, I passed a pack of 30 Harley Davidson motorcycles traveling together in an extended motorcade. It was a sight to see as I moved along in the passing lane, and it was minutes after passing them that the sky opened up on the traffic. Of course the sky had been kind of foreboding for most of the journey—but after a month of this scary cloud nonsense my feeling is that most folks were happy to just get out and see what happens.
It seems kind of dumb to complain about foul weather when I live in a place that on the whole has pretty amazing conditions. And usually there is plenty of sun. But according to the press, the rain was meant to last until the end of May, and even now I am looking out the window and watching as the persistent sun works to dry up the soaked earth and leave us with a much better June. This makes my morning runs go better (and I’m not at risk of getting soaked by cars diving into puddles), but it also helps to preserve the integrity of the asphalt streets—a big win for everyone.
Rainy days be damned, I have been doing my best to both explore new places and also entertain guests as they pass through my home. I won’t lie, there is still a bit of inertia to overcome when the weather gets like it does—but in the end you just have to decide to get out there. It’s why I brought my highly fashionable LL Bean boots with me. And the rain jacket acquired in the British Isles. You just layer up and Here Goes Nothing. Like life, you should expect to always encounter a little bit of everything at no particular point in time.
And so with all this in mind, I did manage to go out for an afternoon stroll and quasi picnic on the Appia Antica (“the world’s first autostrada” as the brown tourism highway sign calls it). We almost didn’t go, given that the sky had darkened by the time we’d arrived. We were doing some shopping for provisions at a nearby farmer’s market (they don’t really call it that here—instead you just drive until you see green and yellow flags that say Coldiretti). We were halfway through our shopping when we found ourselves standing in front of a Sardinian vendor. As he handed us slices of cheese and sips of wine to sample, the sky suddenly opened up and the rain started to fall. Would we abandon our plans? Or would we stand there and keep trying out this amazing food? I think you and I both know what the right answer to that question was. And of course there was never a question that the Appia was still on our agenda for the afternoon, no matter the weather.
I like taking guests out to the Appia because it’s still in Rome—but you also feel like you could be miles away from Rome. Indeed, this was the street that once (and still does) connect Rome to the Adriatic…so you can technically get very far from Rome if you just keep following it. But still, it’s not long from kilometer zero that it becomes all quiet fields and tall pine trees that perfectly frame what remains of funerary monuments dotting the sides of the large cobbled streets. To me it feels like the ideal Roman adventure if you are looking to escape the crowds found by the Forum and Colosseum.
We parked on the side of the road and loaded our bags up with some cheese, bread, wine and fava beans that we had procured just moments before. Leaving the more modern paved streets, we opted to turn down the portion of the old Appian Way that leads back to central Rome. From here you can pass the tomb of Seneca and eventually get to the 1st century B.C. tomb of Caecilia Metella before moving on to Saint Sebastian and catacombs.
If the rain drops aren’t too much, then it’s fairly easy to disregard and you can remain focused on imagining what the road must have looked and sounded like 2000 years ago. Kind of like driving in the rain when there’s not so much precipitation that you need to use the windshield wipers. And indeed, for most of our time we were outdoors, it was what the Irish would call a “soft day”: gentle rainfall but no goccioloni— what they call in Rome the big huge rain drops that pelt the city with little advance warning. Overcast and damp skies considered, it was still time well spent exploring. We walked awhile, let our minds wander, and then at some point we plopped down on the side of the world’s oldest highway and sampled our food choices.
The crummy weather will eventually fade away, and of course it will come back again. That’s just how the world works and I am well aware of it. Still, for the first part of this year, I have kind of found myself in this sort of negotiation where I have continued to tell myself, “Just wait until XX date and then it will be summer.” I have thought it when I don’t want to step out of a warm shower and into the cold air, I have thought it when I have found myself searching for tissues or my favorite scarf because there is still a chill in the air. But this is not the way to frame one’s mind.
The last thing I want is to find myself waiting at home, glued to Twitter or some other train wreck site, wistfully waiting for the “perfect day” to present itself to me in flashing lights. Because if I live by this measuring stick, I know that it will only translate into me looking up at some point and discovering that it is only to look is already Ferragosto (the middle of August…really the death knell of summer). I want to retain the mentality that every day there is some opportunity for partaking in the mythical—and really non-existent—perfect summer day.
It’s not always easy to do this, and indeed as I grow older I find myself fighting increasing inertial to stay in. It’s an easier solution, one without the headaches of life. But the tradeoff that comes with staying home is not worthwhile. The whole world out there, with all of its wildcards, cryptic storm fronts and discoveries around every corner—cannot be discovered unless you’re out there. Even if your mode of transportation of a motorcycle in the rain is all you have, the point is to get out there. Living this way, I feel like I will indeed reach the end of summer and not find that I’ve missed a thing—because I still have the rest of the year to fill with many more opportunities.