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As predicted, the heat overwhelmed us. I now rarely go out between twelve and four. I go to Villa Ada for my daily walk very early in the morning, or in the evening to meet Luca for an aperitivo - our new ritual. Afterward, we walk back home, stopping for grocery shopping, chatting with a neighbor, or buying some flowers.
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- These are called Pioggia D'Oro - gold rain! -
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I'm also picking the numerous flowers I find on my way, and I have a bunch of elderflowers infusing in a jar to make a little syrup.
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And I finally used the flower press Nonna Clara gave me a couple of years ago, found in the back of her closet.
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So, l'Estate Romana, the Roman summer, kicked off. The city has bloomed with nighttime alfresco activities, most related to music.
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Our season began with two outdoor concerts.
The first was Mannarino in the Auditorium Parco Della Musica.
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Alessandro Mannarino is from Rome. His music is traditionally revisited, poetic, and moving to tears (listen to "Vivere La Vita - Live 2017"). The audience was small. The atmosphere was made intimistic through the stringed instruments, the rearranged songs, and the dim light. Three ladies, like the three Italic mermaids, enchanted our souls with their humming, to then shake us with their drums, violin, and congas - maybe, not an expert. Very much my style. I mean, I was wearing a floral crown!!!
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If you want to listen to some good Italian music today, here's the Spotify link to the concert's songs: Mannarino 2023.
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Who knows what's in the minds of everyone around us? I asked myself during both shows. Who knows how each interprets a song. What it brings up to their minds - and hearts. The good thing is, although we are so accustomed to feeling alone, different, alienated. Although we believe no one understands us. The truth is what we miss is communication. The transparency of telling others how we feel. Artists have it, and by sharing, they both speak to us and make us realize that the person sitting next to us, as well as the other hundreds around, have experienced something similar. That they sing the same song because their feelings are awakened. They close their eyes to process them. Their tears run down even if they try to stop them. Yes, probably not at the same level, not with the same intensity, not with the same deepness or cultural background, but these collective experiences should remind us that in the end, whatever we see on the outside, inside, we are all human beings, struggling to understand what's going on.
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The second concert was bigger, louder, blasting! You'll probably know who I'm talking about the minute you read it: Vasco Rossi.
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This time we were at the Stadio Olimpico. This time we were around sixty thousand people. Vasco is indeed the Italian artist that sells more tickets.
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And he is seventy-two. And it is not like he does a concert every now and then. No. Every year he's on stage, and the stadium fills up every single time. His lyrics are not metaphoric. They're crude and explicit, candid in a way. He talks for himself, and by talking for himself, he communicates with everyone. That little man gets to fill the immense stage with his sole being. Sure, there's the band, the mega screens, the lights, and the fireworks finale, but what hits you straight in the spirit is the man's experience, the truth in his eyes, and the profundity he can reach because of his age and past life.
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Insomma... I cried at this concert, too. The culpable was "Se ti potessi dire." To not be the only one weeping, here's the concert's playlist: Vasco 2023.
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Despite the tears of emotion, there was more impetus, hysteria, and rock and roll this time. Just imagine that at any of Vasco's concerts, when he sings "Rewind", girls take off their shirts and bras and launch them to the stage. I thought it was a legend, I witnessed it's true. He, of course, feeds the thing with allusions and shouts like "Roma, godi!", Rome, enjoy.
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All I can tell you is I woke up still wearing the paper bracelet and still pumped.
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That's it for this week, belli miei. Fill your Sunday with music. It is the best way I know to nourish the soul and understand at least a bit of what's going on.
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FROM THE BLOG
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Italian peach iced tea or tè freddo alla pesca
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How to make Italian peach iced tea, "tè freddo alla pesca:" a refreshing summery drink.
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Venice's Simposio: a unique travel cookbook
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Opulence. Dream. Crowds. Chaos. Pride. These are the words of Venice.
Rice. Raisins. Onions. Polenta. These are the ingredients of Venice.
Gold. Burgundy. Pastels. Ochre. Intense Greens. These are the colors of Venice.
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Was this entertaining, informative, or just a bit fun?
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