Long Time No Blog, or What I've Been up to for the Past Four Months

Oh, my darling bloglings! It's been too long! My guess is that you're either asking:

Where in the world have you been in the last four months?

or

Who are you again?

Of course, there's a third option, that no one is actually reading this since I have all but abandoned my poor, dedicated bloglings.

I will try not to dwell on such unpleasant possibilities, and attempt instead to rectify the situation by catching you up on what's been going on in my life since I last posted four months ago, because, well, it's been one hell of a season. If you've followed this blog for any length of time, you'll know that I rarely talk about my personal life. I'm not a naturally shy person, yet for some reason I have censored myself when it comes to revealing details about my life.

This is all about to change. You may also know that I started a podcast in the past year (one of the soon-to-be-mentioned reasons for my lengthy absence). I don't seem to have the same bashfulness when it comes to podcasting, and I'm pretty open about my life when I'm on air, so I figure, all my personal business is already out there and it's too late to get it back, so I might as well mention it here too from time to time.

So without further ado...

This winter has been one of the busiest, most exhausting, and most exciting in recent memory. It started out with a bang as I threw a bridal shower for a dear friend in early November. She's mad about the Etruscans (and in particular bronze Etruscan hand mirrors) and so it made perfect sense to throw her an Etruscan-themed bridal shower! I may have had more fun planning this shower than the bride-to-be did attending it. To put it briefly, I went a bit overboard, making Etruscan-themed decorations, treats, and even an Etruscan Bridal magazine.

Can I tell you how much I geeked out when I discovered the Etruscan font? For those of you who aren't lucky enough to have a close friend obsessed with the Etruscans, I'm here to tell you their language reads right to left.

Most of the shower games were Etruscan-themed as well, but I think the piece de resistance was the cupcakes decorated with fondant bronze hand mirrors. These beauties, which were as delicious as they were adorable, were made by the uber-talented Alexandra of Cupcakes in Rome. I made the red currant scones you see on the left. Also very yummy, if not quite so pretty. The recipe for those came courtesy of my fellow Rome blogger, the fabulous Trisha Thomas, aka Mozzarella Mamma.

 

 

Later that same day, I had the pleasure of participating in a segment that will be aired on the Travel Channel later this year. The hour-long feature on Rome is part of a several-part series on some of the world's greatest cities. The series is called Metropolis and should air sometime in June.

The segment I was featured in was on the art of aperitivo in a glorious piazza. Here I am with three friends enjoying Aperol Spritz in Piazza di Pietra at one of my favorite spots in the city, Salotto 42. I'll be sure to let you know when it airs so you can hear me trying not to embarrass myself on camera.

Aside from these fun events, what I really dedicated myself to during the month of November 2014 was something called National Novel Writing Month, or NaNoWriMo, as its participants affectionately call it. If you've ever dreamed of writing a book, but just can't seem to find the discipline to sit down and do it, NaNoWriMo is for you. The idea is, you and literally hundreds of thousands of other writers around the world make a commitment to write a 50,000-word novel in just one month, the month of November. That works out to 1667 words per day if you manage to write every day. I didn't start out too strong, so felt like I was constantly playing catch up. But I eventually got into the groove, and seeing the number of words I needed to write to stay on track shrink every single day was enough impetus to force myself out of bed well before six am most days to get my writing in before heading to work.

I earned this badge with early mornings and lots of Earl Grey.

It was an exhausting month, and I'm not one who functions well on too little sleep, but it was worth it when, by November 30th, I had an (incredibly rough, aka nearly unreadable)  first draft of my second novel. Yes, that's right, my second. My first novel took a great deal longer than 30 days to write. I'm actually not sure if I've mentioned it on the blog before, but I wrote an art mystery for young readers that takes place in Rome (where else?). It's for the Middle Grade age group, which is roughly between 9 and 12, give or take a year on each end. I'll leave the details of the book for a future post, but I will confess that I have been working on this labor of love on and off for the past five years. And while, no, I didn't write the first draft in a month (closer to a year, actually), the revision process was a good four times longer. No one warned me that writing the first draft of a book is the easy part! It's the (seemingly endless) revisions which test a writer's mettle and perseverance.

But persevere I did, and by the summer of 2014, I finally had what I believed to be a draft that was in good enough shape to send out into the world. I started querying literary agents last summer. After several months of this disheartening process (which tests a writer's perseverance even more than revising, I'd wager) without any offers, I took a break from querying to participate in NaNoWriMo. It was just what I needed to get my creative juices flowing again after months of stagnation and rejection letters. I dove back into querying in December, and that brings me to my next big accomplishment of the winter, which happened just after the New Year. Excuse the all-caps but I can't help shouting:

I GOT AN AGENT!!!

[source]

For any other writers out there, or for actors, performers, and musicians too, you know what a life-changing accomplishment this is. In a writer's case, signing with a successful agent is probably the most important step in their career, maybe even more significant that that elusive first book deal.
And mine is not just any agent, but one of the best in the business, the legendary John Silbersack of Trident Media Group. I am so incredibly honored and thrilled to have him representing my work that it's honestly hard to put it into words (a worrying sign for a writer!). Suffice it to say, there are a lot of happy dances going on in my apartment these days.

As I expected, my agent (my heart still does a mini-swoon when I write the words "my agent") had a long list of revisions for me, and I have dived head-first into those. I've given myself the Ides of March as a deadline, I spend all weekend, every weekend chained to my desk attempting to wrestle what I thought was a final draft into an even final-er draft. I hope that this explains why, although one of my only New Year's resolutions of 2015 was to WRITE A BLOGPOST AT LEAST ONCE A WEEK, it's already the 20th of February and I'm just finally getting around to my first post of the year. Mea culpa!

The other thing that has been taking up a lot of time, but in a very enjoyable way, is my podcast, The BitterSweet Life. It's hosted by myself and the amazing radio producer extraordinaire, Katy Sewall, who just happens to be one of my closest and oldest friends in the world. When she moved to Rome last year, we decided to do a podcast all about what it's like to be an expat, either for the long-term or the short-term. It's casual, light-hearted, and most of all, non-scripted. We chat about lots of different topics that expats encounter such as homesickness, foreign language, visa problems, integrating, becoming alienated from your native culture, and dating the locals. Oh, and our mutual obsession with Caravaggio, which is slightly off topic, but we don't care.

We finally started a Twitter account, @BitterSweetPod, so be sure to follow us there if you want to be kept up to date with new episodes. Katy, who is currently back in Seattle, recently posted a photo from a recent interview she did that has somehow taken Twitter by storm. Katy interviewed a little girl earlier this week who loves and feeds crows. They bring her shiny gifts in return and this is her collection.

Here's the original tweet:

Interviewed a little girl this morning that feeds crows and they bring her gifts in return. Here's her collection. pic.twitter.com/kqNrlAa4Ie
— The BitterSweet Life (@BitterSweetPod) February 16, 2015

When Katy posted the photo three or four days ago, I thought it was wonderful, but I had no idea it would go viral. And viral it has gone, with over 4600 retweets, 4800 favorites, and hundreds of comments to date. Not bad for an account that had (at the time) just 100 followers. People across the world are so moved by this story, not to mention an entire sub-culture of people out there who are absolutely passionate about crows! Who knew? I'm starting to develop a soft spot for them myself!

My last big project of the winter is my collaboration with an awesome new app called VoiceMap. If you love to dig deep when you travel but don't always have the time or money to hire a private tour guide, this app will make you squeal with glee. The app is the brainchild of some very enterprising and creative people down in South Africa. The idea is that storytellers in cities around the world take listeners on a tour of a neighborhood by way of a smartphone. If you're the listener, all you have to do is walk where the storyteller indicates, and listen to him or her bring the city to life right in front of your eyes.

This video explains the project better than I could:

If you haven't guessed already, I am narrating a walking tour of Rome's Trastevere neighborhood. It is exciting to be a part of a project that I find so meaningful and useful at the same time, although my lack of technical skills has slowed me down more than once, and it's taking me a bit longer than I had expected! I will report back as soon as my walk is ready. I hope you will download it and let me guide you through this neighborhood I adore the next time you're in Rome.

If I have learned anything in these last four months is that synchronicity is real, and that working on projects that push you in the direction of your dreams bring more and more opportunities and amazing people into your path. Leaving The Pines of Rome blog out of this equation just isn't acceptable to me anymore. I'm lucky enough that all my passions intermingle in such a beautiful way, each one inspiring another. So I'm going on the record and making a commitment to post once a week from here on out. The posts will probably be shorter than usual, simply out of necessity, but since I'm not convinced anyone reads through to the end of my novel-length posts anyway, that might be a good thing for all concerned!

All photos by author except where indicated

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A Podcast is Born! The BitterSweet Life: Two Expats in Rome

I was 11 years old, sitting alone on an uncomfortable school bus seat on a cold Northwestern fall morning. After spending my entire elementary school life sheltered in a tiny private school, I was suddenly out in the big, scary world of public middle school. I was, in a word, daunted. And pretty sure I would never make any friends.

About halfway into the commute to school (in my memory this happened on the first day of school, but I can't be certain that was the case), a cute, dark-haired girl named Katy, who was just my size--maybe even an inch shorter (and I was always the shortest in my class)--got on the bus and shyly asked if she could sit with me. This, my friends, was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

With Katy, on the stage of Youth Theatre Northwest, Mercer Island, WA, about 13 years old

Fast-forward twenty-some years and I'm living in Rome, far far away from the beautiful, rainy Pacific Northwest and all the old friends I grew up with. Despite seeing Katy once a year or usually less, we've remained as close over the years as we always were. She's one of those people that, despite the distance that separates us, despite how infrequently we see each other or even talk on the phone, I just know will always, always be in my life.

So you can imagine my surprise and elation when she announced that she and her husband were moving to Rome for a year. It was an expat's dream come true. She has been here since September, and it has been one of my best years in Rome so far, because of her.

With Katy on her first full-day as a Rome expat, Gianicolo Hill, September 2013

Since Katy is an NPR radio producer, and I am (among other things) an expat blogger, we decided to put our talents and expertise together to create a weekly (free!) podcast discussing the ups and downs of expat life. Since we both live in Italy, we naturally talk about Italy and Italians a lot, but we also touch on many topics that expats in any country might encounter. Our combined experiences, mine as a long-term expat, Katy's as a short-term one, give us two complementary points of view, which makes for lively and (we hope) interesting discussions.

If you've been following this blog for a while, you'll know I don't write much about my personal life. Yes, every so often I will wax poetic on my Italian ancestors, the fated path that brought me to Italy, or the battle of the sexes Italian-style, but nine times out of ten, my posts are about art, history, music, and curiosities here in Rome or the Vatican. As much as I'd like to post about my personal life, an odd sort of shyness often prevents me.

Well not any more! The podcast, The BitterSweet Life, is frank, spontaneous, and thoroughly personal. It is probably of particular interest to those of you who may be considering taking the plunge and moving abroad yourselves, whether to Italy or any other country. We welcome questions and try to address them all on the air. If you already are an expat, and are currently in Rome, and you think you might have something to add to the conversation, let us know! We also interview other expats from time to time.

There are two ways to listen to The BitterSweet Life. You can visit our website, where you can either stream each podcast, or download them for later listening. Or you can find it on iTunes, where you can stream, download, and also subscribe so that you never miss an episode. We post new episodes every Monday morning, and they are about 20-30 minutes long, (perfect for your morning commute!). In our first episode, we discuss our first impressions on becoming an expat, and in our second episode we discuss language: both living nearly your entire daily life in a foreign language, as well as living in a country in which you do not speak the local language. We can't wait to get more episodes up, and we hope that you will enjoy them! If you do, please share with your like-minded friends, and let us know what you think!

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Twelve Months a Pope

© AP/Alessandra Tarantino [source]

This post has been about a year in the making. I meant to write it right after Pope Francis was elected one year ago today, in order to share with you, my dear bloglings, what I experienced that unforgettable night. Honestly, I did.

But the truth is, I was so sick and tired (mostly tired) of blogging by that point that I just couldn't face it. I kept putting it off and putting it off, until the papal election wasn't news anymore and there didn't seem any reason to write about it. But now everyone's favorite pope's first anniversary is here, and I finally have an excuse to write that post I've been meaning to write for so long.

Now, before we go any further, I don't want you to think that I'm still sick and tired of blogging. That was a temporary thing. You see, when dear old Benny (remember him?) decided he'd had it with the whole Supreme-Pontiff-of-the-Holy-Mother-Church/God's-Representative-on-Earth/Vicar-of-Christ/Must-always-Wear-White-no-Matter-the-Weather gig, I was swept up into a blogging (and tweeting) frenzy. As Rome moved toward conclave it got even worse. I ate, slept, and drank nothing but conclave. I became obsessed, my friends, obsessed. I even got added to the Huffington Post's list of conclave-related tweeps. That's how bad it got.

I'm sure you all know how long winded I am by now (case in point: this post), but my conclave-related blogposts defied all the rules of how long a post should reasonably be before you can assume your readers have given up and picked up War and Peace for some lighter reading. I blogged about Pope Celestine V, the only other pope who has willingly resigned, I blogged about the entire history of the papal conclave, which up till then had been my longest post ever, but then I topped myself just three days later when I blogged about every single minute (and probably useless) detail and rule of conclave that you have never wanted to know. What can I say, I was on a roll.

Then exhaustion hit. After spending something like 15 hours straight on that last post, I didn't even want to see my computer, let alone turn it on (and conclave hadn't even officially started yet!). But then I thought about Mozzarella Mamma. Big-time journalist, mother of three, she was running around the city, live tweeting from press conferences at the Vatican, interviewing the likes of Cardinal Timothy Dolan, and doing chimney watch from her perch atop Bernini's colonnade in St. Peter's Square, all the while baking red velvet cupcakes for her kids and hand-sewing them Carnival costumes. (OK, maybe I made that last bit up.) But still, I thought to myself, here is a woman with a crazy intense job, and three kids, and if she has the energy to blog about conclave every other night, surely I should have it to too.

So I eked out one last post on the first day of conclave, listing some of the most likely Papabili to take home the big prize. I left out our dear Frankie--just as the experts did--although I did predict an Argentinian, let it be noted! If the conclave had gone on for several days (or even weeks) as many people predicted, I don't know what I would have done. But as it happened, Pope Francis was elected the very next day, and afterwards I promptly collapsed and didn't post again for well over a month. Meanwhile Mozzarella Mamma posted a wrap-up just two days later--how does she do it???

Well, here, at long last, is mine. (Whoa, six paragraph preamble--I really need to learn the art of succinct blogging. Next time.)

Everyone knew the pope wouldn't be elected on the first day of conclave. With only two scrutinies, that would have been unprecedented. But most people didn't think he'd be elected the second day either. Unlike when Benny was up for election and a complete shoe-in, no one had any idea who'd be elected this time around, and we all assumed it would take at least three days. All I knew was, I wanted to be there when it happened.

I had missed the white smoke and first papal appearance back in 2005, and I wasn't going to miss it this time. Only problem was, I had tickets to the opera for the 3rd night of conclave, and I couldn't miss the chance of seeing Riccardo Muti conduct Verdi, especially as I had just interviewed him. If that hadn't been the case, I might not have gone to St. Peter's Square on the 13th at all, assuming it was too early anyway and planed to go the next night.

As it happened, I met my friend Jill (officially the most Catholic person I know) to take a leisurely stroll toward the Vatican around 5:30pm on Wednesday March 13th. Neither of us were expecting to see white smoke that night. When we arrived in the square, the atmosphere was jovial. Everyone was having a good time and no one could imagine the intense night that was ahead of them. Finally, at around 7pm, as we were milling about the back of the square, laughing with an American family we had just met, we noticed the smoke. At first it looked black, but nevertheless, just seeing the smoke was exciting, and everyone gasped gleefully. But then the smoke got grayer, and then it turned white. A collective whoop arose from the crowd as we realized we had a pope.

The very first sight of the smoke. It still looked gray at this point. © Tiffany Parks

Instantly everyone began pressing forward, and I knew what I had to do. I grabbed my friend's hand and took off, fighting to get as close to the Benediction Loggia as possible. How many times in your life do you get to see a newly elected pope appear on that legendary balcony? Not many, and I wanted a front-row seat.

Can you see the tiny puff of white smoke behind me?

Being short has its advantages, and I was able to push and dodge and squirm my way up nearly to the very front of the metal barricades until finally we could get no further. I dug out my phone and texted my maritino, telling him to high-tail it over here. Jill assured me we had at least 40 minutes before the new pope would be announced. Even so, my maritino ran. It was raining by this time and he just put his head down and ran. He described to me later the streets of the city, traffic stopped, just full of people running, all running toward the Vatican. I don't know how but he got there in 15 minutes (usually it's a 45 minute walk).

In the fray. White smoke clear as day. © Tiffany Parks

Somehow in that crowd of tens of thousands of people, we managed to find each other. We also managed to secure a prime spot, just behind the statue of St. Peter (appropriate). The wait seemed eternal but at last we heard those historic words, "HABEMUS PAPAM." It gave me goosebumps, not because I am the world's biggest fan of the institution of the papacy, but because I knew I was witnessing a historic moment. When the name Bergolio was shouted, I was truly stumped. That wasn't one of the names I had painstakingly researched. The maritino was quicker, he shouted, "Argentino!" and I was happy just for that--without knowing anything about him--just that he was from South America. Just that was enough to make the election historic.

We were so caught up in the announcement of who the new pope was, we completely missed his papal name at first. Then we heard far-off voices, Roman voices, shouting "Francesco! Francesco! Francesco!" Could it be? we asked ourselves. It's not possible that he chose that name. Another first.

Pope Francis's first appearance. © Tiffany Parks

But the moment no one who witnessed it could ever forget waswhen our new pope appeared. After the deafening cheers quieted, the newly minted pope stepped out onto the balcony and, with a humble smile, uttered the two words no one had expected, "Buona Sera." As if he were just talking to old friends. The entire square gasped and then exploded into even more cheers.

But surely the most moving moment was when he asked that, before he bless the crowd, (and give us all our hard-earned indulgences--no purgatory, yay!), that every person in the square should first bless him, and pray for him. He bowed his head with unimagined humility, and for a long moment that exuberant crowd of tens of thousands was absolutely silent and focused and reverent and it was powerful to be a part of.

I don't know how they managed to print this so fast. It was available before we left the square that night. © Tiffany Parks

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Art's Greatest Kisses

Is there anything more romantic than a kiss? In honor of the supposed most romantic day of the year, here are a few of my favorite art works featuring that most amorous of all gestures.

I've been a life-long Toulouse-Lautrec fan; he was one of my absolute favorite painters when I was a young girl. But I have never had the pleasure of seeing this work live, as it is in a private collection. I suppose I'll just have to wait and hope it comes to an exhibition near me.

The Kiss, Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, Private Collection

I have loved this photograph since I was an adolescent. To me it was the epitome of romance, and represented all that I hoped would happen to me in my future (which I knew would undoubtedly take place in Europe). It was a great joy for me to see it at the Robert Doisneau exhibit at Palazzo delle Esposizioni in Rome two years ago.

The Kiss at Hotel de Ville, Robert Doisneau,

This sensuous work is going on exhibit along with 60 other pieces by Rodin at the National Roman Museum at the Baths of Diocletian. Rodin: The Marble, The Life opens this Tuesday, 18 February.

The Kiss, Auguste Rodin, Musée Rodin, Paris

This the only work of art that has ever literally made me cry upon seeing it live. Of course, there is another story there, which actually has to do more with Schiele than with Klimt. Perhaps I'll blog about that memorable museum visit one day.

The Kiss, Gustav Klimt, Österreichische Galerie Belvedere, Vienna

 I don't think this next one needs any commentary.

The Kiss, Francesco Hayez, Pinacoteca di Brera, Milan

And last but not least, my absolute favorite, which is, in reality, a few centimeters away from being a kiss, but perhaps that makes it all the more exquisite. You can read more about these two lovebirds, Cupid and Psyche, here and here, in two blogposts I dedicated solely to them.

Psyche Revived by the Kiss of Love, Antonio Canova, Musée du Louvre, Paris

Did I leave out any of your favorites?

All images courtesy of Wiki Commons.

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La Festa de' Noantri, the festival of the Trasteverini

Festa de' Noantri procession, 1950s [source]

 

I remember that morning like it was yesterday: a bright mid-summer dawn, just weeks after moving into my dream Trastevere apartment. In a haze of grogginess and not enough sleep, I hear a booming, nasal voice. It's Sunday and seems impossibly early for whatever is happening, especially as it's happening right outside my bedroom window. 


I bury my head in my pillow as I hear a monotone voice bleating out of a loudspeaker. Yes, a loudspeaker. A half-blind glance at my phone shows it’s not even 7am. "...Madre di Dio, prega per noi peccatori..."

Madre di Dio, what the...?

This I had to see. I flop out of bed and stumble over to the window. "Ave Maria, piena di grazia..." the voice drones on. Opening the shutters, I peer below.

Festa de' Noantri, Via Garibaldi, 2010, Crazy o'clock AM

Festa de' Noantri, Via Garibaldi, 2010

Festa de' Noantri, Via Garibaldi, 2010

A procession, a full-on religious procession, was trundling past my window. There were priests, altar boys, a smattering of older ladies in somber dress. They were all doing a call-and-repeat version of the Ave Maria that I have since become much more familiar with. Oh, and they were carrying a gigantic statue of the Virgin Mary on their shoulders. One thing I have learned living in Italy is that Italians love the Virgin Mary. I mean, they love her more than Jesus. Or so it seemed to my then-non-Catholic self. I had almost literally stumbled upon the Festa de’ Noantri.

The pictures I've included here were not, of course, taken that morning, but four years later, when I was sadly packing up to leave that very same apartment and knew I was going to miss everything about it (besides the landlord).  Little did I know then that my new apartment would be on the self-same procession route. It’s actually not so improbable; the Festa de’ Noantri procession goes down practically every street in Trastevere.

For a little bit of historical background (and a break from my nonsensical reminiscing), the festival dates back to 1535 when, after a storm, a cedar statue of the Madonna was fished out of the Tiber (on the Trastevere side, let it be noted!). Exactly where the statue came from is still a mystery, but where it ended up is not. It was donated to the order of the Carmelites, and hence it became known as the Madonna del Carmine (although many still refer to it as the Madonna della Fiumarola, since it was found in the river). The statue was kept in San Crisogono, an ancient church in Piazza Sonnino, and was immediately considered the protectress of the trasteverini. The statue was eventually transferred to the unassuming church of Sant’Agata, right across the square.

Every July, the first Saturday after the 16^th to be precise, a major 8-day festival takes place in my beloved neighborhood to celebrate this “miraculous” statue (if you can consider a statue be fished out of a river a miracle). The original statue stays put in Sant’Agata (these days she’s too precious to move about), but a 19^th-century polychrome wooden copy is carried about to much fanfare and jubilation (and yes, they change her outfit every year). 

Festa de' Noantri, Pza San Francesco d'Assisi, 2012

Festa de' Noantri, Pza San Francesco d'Assisi, 2012

Festa de' Noantri, Via San Francesco a Ripa, 2012

After a goodly number of masses and benediction ceremonies, she is carried in solemn procession from Sant’Agata to the original statue’s first home, San Crisogono. But don’t think they just walk her across the square. That would be too easy. No, she is carried down Via della Lungaretta, Via della Luce and into Piazza San Francesco d’Assisi (where another celebration takes place), down Via San Francesco a Ripa, Via Natale del Grande, Via Roma Libera, and many more streets in Trastevere, until she is finally deposited at San Crisogono, where she stays for the duration of the festival.

Festa de' Noantri, Via San Francesco a Ripa, 2013

Festa de' Noantri, Via San Francesco a Ripa, 2013

Festa de' Noantri, Via San Francesco a Ripa, 2013

My friend Jill watching the procession from across the street

Then the partying begins: street concerts of traditional music (cue: Roma,nun fa’ la stupida sta sera), old folks literally dancing in the streets, stall selling porchetta in Piazza Sonnino, bersaglieri playing their trumpets while they run (seriously impressive), and endless shouts of “Evviva Maria!” to be heard at any time of day or night. At the end of the festival, the pièce de resistance is when hundreds of people line the river or stand on the bridges to watch the Madonna float down the Tiber on a boat at sunset, from Ponte Sant’Angelo to Ponte Garibaldi.

Madonna della Fiumarola, Ponte Garibaldi, 2012

Madonna della Fiumarola, Isola Tiberina, 2012

So why is it called the Festa “de’ Noantri”? The word Noantri is a dialectical version of “noi altri” (us others). This was a way the residents of Trastevere voiced their indignation at the phrase, “voi altri che abitate in altri quartieri” (you others who live in other neighborhoods), with which they were referenced by the Roman populace. They were considered 2^nd-class citizens because they lived on the wrong side of the tracks Tiber. 

I feel very differently about the Festa de' Noantri these days, and that has less to do with the fact that I'm a Catholic convert (that's a story for another post), and more to do with the fact that the procession no longer wakes me up on Sunday mornings. It still passes under my bedroom window (although I now live in a different apartment on a different street), but it does so around 7 o’clock on Saturday night instead of 7 o’clock on Sunday morning, and that makes all the difference. In fact, I’ve come to love this festival. I’m now in my 8^th year of witnessing it on my very street and it literally never gets old.

Festa de' Noantri, Piazza San Francesco d'Assini, 2012

If you happen to be in Trastevere tonight (Wed, 24 July 2013), get over to Piazza San Francesco d'Assini, stat! A brass band is playing as I write this, and who knows? Maybe the bersaglieri will show up with their fantastic feathered hats? I know I’ll be watching from my window.



Visit the festival's official site for a program of processions and events. 

All photos (except first) by author.

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