“A month of missed pendulums” – so true to catch the viscosity of the August time of Rome is only capable of a poet. “In August, quickness only fly in the throat dried up the carafe,” – he continues, but current realities would have surprised even the great Brodsky. Sorokogradusnuyu heat – this is the last line of defense of the Eternal City before the avalanche of tourists round the clock ready to polish to a shine its cobbled streets. The life-giving elixir with a magical prefix dolce excites everyone who came to the capital of Italy.

I do not hold agility in the fly, and moving around the city jogging, I think only about one thing – how would not suffocate greed. In front of the Quirinal Palace, the Pantheon, Villa Borghese. to catch up to the darkness …


“Money does not smell” – the famous phrase preserved for posterity writer and historian Suetonius, quoting the Roman Emperor Vespasian. Unfortunately, after nineteen centuries, it has not lost its sharpness. But today, traveling the roads of Italy, you know something else: time smells! A place of his residence here in Rome.

Passing the windows of boutiques, gourmet shops and souvenir stalls, run the risk of accidentally tripping over the railing of the ancient Forum and the break in the head-on collision with a time machine. A area, the former century BC the center of the social life of citizens, only modestly confirm: “You are not mistaken. Yes, this is the house of Cicero, the same. This Vestal quarters, servants of a pagan temple, of which virginity philosopher Plutarch wrote … Umbilicus Urbis (the ruins of a pagan temple, literally “the navel of the city”) – buried here. ” And then it comes down on you understanding – and forgiveness – Romans for their stubborn unwillingness to communicate with visitors in English. For example, an employee underground, delicately “not heard” questions about the underground logistics, put me stumped his commentary: “You came to Rome, you can not speak their language?”. Indeed, those whose roots are interwoven bloodlines Julia, Augustus and Trajan, have the right to wonder.

In Rome, could not help himself infitsirueshsya desire for power, dare to stop the arm or the restorer accidentally spill paint painter about to refurbish another monument. Postpone the touch of time, to have time to grab a camera and capture a picture of the city gray hair, to touch the precious wrinkles and inhale the aroma of antiquity. Bring home a bottle of road dust smell, catacombs and museums, which will raise in memory and admiration, and envy. It would have to be jealous of even the cobblestones. Stones will take a sun bath under the blue sky Rome, and the guest will sooner or later have to say farewell “Arividerchi” in Leonardo da Vinci airport and fly home.

And yet still enjoy even garbage cans overflowing, pedestrians, crosses the street at a red light, emotional gestures and high tones of peaceful dialogue. Everything that is “quiet” an echo of us Italians, or vice versa. Watching the morning elderly Germans and Britons carefully laces white sneakers and go for a jog, you feel a slight bewilderment. The triumph of a healthy lifestyle looks like something unexpected on the background of idle luxury of the ancient landscape.

Goethe was sure who had seen Rome, “that will never be completely unhappy.” German scholar Winckelmann was categorical: “In addition to Rome, in the world there is almost nothing of beauty.” And Gogol felt in these streets happy repatriate “homeland of his soul, I saw where my heart still lived before me, before I was born into the world.” However, the road leads not only genius, but mere mortals to the foot hills of the Eternal City, where everyone can hear and receive a gift of your personal story or lesson. In my case, it was a short lecture with visual material covering.


In close lane, running from Piazza Navona to the Church of St. Eustache, formed a small traffic jam. Garbage frantically pushed his way backwards to the stairs of a small tavern, to rid it of excess debris. The narrowness of the street did the trick almost fatal to the car body. (Brodsky and there was absolutely right when he wrote that “in these narrow streets … cumbersome even thought about myself”). Gradually formed a group of curious tourists and a dozen Carabinieri. In the form of Valentino, smiling and nabriolinennymi policemen looked at each other with the crowd of onlookers, completely hiding the healthy irony.

It turned out, attracted the attention of law enforcement is not the size of the machine and its driver. Young beautiful girl right hand confidently twisting the wheel, occasionally glances in the rearview mirror. In the other hand, decorated with dozens of colorful plastic bracelets, she was holding a cell phone and something enthusiastically told his interlocutor. Cascade resin hair effectively winced when she laughed. Massive earrings, swaying from side to side, gave all manner underlined carelessness.

Tension was growing audience. She did not notice the goggles, she radiated joy man contented life. Like behind her did not have a huge baggage of bad. Finally the car maneuvers failed, and signal lights alerted viewers about the machine stops.

The fans exploded with generous applause. The heroine appeared in a full-length and blinding spectators pearly smile, disappeared into the tavern door. Then I learned that the young people in Italy (and perhaps in other countries of Europe) in the “non-prestigious” professions attract a good salary. But in the second area of the second she looked at Monica Bellucci, sliding down the red carpet in a stormy sea echo of applause.


They say that a chance meeting – the non-random thing in the world. And indeed, my inner gyroscope of values if there was not overturned by this event, the noticeably wilted and miraculously kept his balance. Passing episode of the audience silently asked a question about something important and at the same time uncomfortable. How to solve the problem on the calculation formula for human happiness? The sum of the terms, obviously, everyone will have their own.

Our eldest daughter was about the same age with the above Roman. To speak frankly with itself – not an easy task, but I dared to ask, I would like to see her so beautiful, and most importantly – happy? Yes. I’d like to see her behind the wheel musorovozki? No.

Is this the first year of her birth with my dad ordered expensive cake to a birthday party in the form of a crown and the obligatory inscription – “favorite princess”? Really spent his school years in vain, cultivating in her right ambitions and focus solely on the diploma? We thought that by visiting couples at the best university of the country, it is sure to become happy. Is the word “elite”, “status”, “reputation”, “Prestige”, “influence” – not mandatory attributes carefree life?

Late for being holiday, where “success” is headed elegant feast, scary. To split a gourmet meal, you need to look “at the level of” being “full”. However, the black-browed beauty did not ask my parents’ conscience, whether successful Fortunately identical. The axiom does not require proof. Paying so much attention to the color of the diploma, I thought I at least once, what is the real “usefulness” of man?

I do not think that urban macho What is the draw Carabinieri stable stereotypes, applauded the driver’s skill and high wage, covering the driving side effects “of this” truck. The price of the individual does not determine the thickness of the purse and the ambiguity of the bank account. Rather, and pungent odor, and bothersome insects, and spectator aversion overshadowed disarmed and beauty of human dignity. And one of its manifestations – is the ability to maintain the beautiful face, clothes, thoughts under any circumstances.

Perhaps the Italian did not read Chekhov, but writer’s covenant performed. She allowed herself to wear a dirty robe, tie a knot in the unwashed hair, leave on the damn cleaning without makeup and with a look of fierce rage on his face. She is worthy to decorate your workspace that beauty that saves the world. Soak it with the mother’s milk, with the first step being a childhood immersed in an aesthetically perfect setting of Rome – particularly easy. And what’s the difference, “the smell of craft,” if the majestic Palazzo Poli-flung from the windows fountain Trevi transforms the soul?


Defeating nap every living thing on the other side of the shutter, the midday heat enveloped lazy bystanders. Cafe Greco, despite the siesta, was filled with visitors. Gallant waiter in tails brought me a cup of coffee and dictated a password to access the wi-Faya. At the next table dined young couple whose child continually published deafening squeal worth Pope Scorch new fearsome grimace. I tried to concentrate on finding the right information at the plate, but the play of children’s laughter was so contagious that soon I and all the other visitors cafe stared at my father waiting for the next portion of hilarious minutes.

Finally, the all-knowing Google responded to my last question: why Rome is called the Eternal City? Sources agreed on one thing: the city nearly three thousand years. He is old. But before the screen lit up dry figures, it seemed to me that I found her, a personal response. Eternal will always be young, to the death of the old moves, but not for ever. And youth with an inherent curiosity asking too many questions. About Eternal …

The baby grunted approvingly.