Chapter 33

           IstepoffthetrainafewdayslatertoaRomefullofhot,sunny,eternaldisorder,where-immediatelyuponwalkingoutintothestreet-Icanhearthesoccer-stadium-likecheersofanearbymanifestazione,anotherlabordemonstration.Whattheyarestrikingaboutthistime,mytaxidrivercannottellme,mainlybecause,itseems,hedoesn’tcare."’Sticazzi,"hesaysaboutthestrikers.(Literaltranslation:"Theseballs,"or,aswemightsay:"Idon’tgiveashit.")It’snicetobeback.AfterthestaidsobrietyofVenice,it’snicetobebackwhereIcanseeamaninaleopard-skinjacketwalkingpastapairofteenagersmakingoutrightinthemiddleofthestreet.Thecityissoawakeandalive,sodolled-upandsexyinthesunshine.

           IremembersomethingthatmyfriendMaria’shusband,Giulio,saidtomeonce.Weweresittinginanoutdoorcafe,havingourconversationpractice,andheaskedmewhatIthoughtofRome.ItoldhimIreallylovedtheplace,ofcourse,butsomehowknewitwasnotmycity,notwhereI’denduplivingfortherestofmylife.TherewassomethingaboutRomethatdidn’tbelongtome,andIcouldn’tquitefigureoutwhatitwas.Justasweweretalking,ahelpfulvisualaidwalkedby.ItwasthequintessentialRomanwoman-afantasticallymaintained,jewelry-soddenforty-somethingdamewearingfour-inchheels,atightskirtwithaslitaslongasyourarm,andthosesunglassesthatlooklikeracecars(andprobablycostasmuch).