Cow The Eternal City

Every week, I like to rename Rome, usually inspired by whatever has been the most frustrating, joyous or comical peak of my week, always favouring a one syllable word so the city doesn’t lose its ring.  Once I named it “Why?” after a week of mouthing the word, bemused expression trying to fathom all things bewildering in Rome, such as why the booking of hospital appointment is only achievable by visiting the hospital in person? Why when I activate the pedestrian crossing in Via Luisa di Savoia, after waiting 6 minutes and getting as far as the concrete island in the middle of the street I have to activate it once again and wait another 6 minutes, choking on exhaust fumes, to complete my crossing? I mean, do some people decide to stay on the island and not need to cross the whole street?  Once I named Rome “Nun” after spending an hour explaining the difference between a Bloody Mary and a Virgin Mary to one of Rome’s thousands of nuns in an English conversation class about cocktails.  Since January I’ve called it “Rain” as it just hasn’t stopped. Anyone visiting Rome this Spring might have thought they had been diverted to a grey Northern European destination as their plane touched down, rerouted by the Icelandic volcanic ash cloud which continues to hang like the Sword of Damocles over our summer holiday travel plans this year.  

Last Friday the sun finally came out and as I sat outside amidst an art installation which has been flying around the globe since 1998,defying the volcano by arriving here, I renamed the city once again:  “Cow” after the herds of sacred, funky fiberglass beasts grazing around the historic centre, sponsored by commerce,raising money for Help the Aged in Rome. This morning the pantene cow blocking the entrance to my supermarket reminded me I was out of shampoo. Moo!

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