Warming Up To Summer

I guess every place rings in the summer in their own way. In Rome this year, we kicked things off (and I do mean kicked) with horses running rogue through the streets and people rappelling down the facade of the Colosseum. New York danced in the streets at the very thought of the Knicks still playing basketball in June, while Paris burned after winning their second Champions League title in a row.

And in Washington DC, the Freedom 250 party planners launched what was supposed to be a summer of celebration for the country’s anniversary by torching their own concert festival before Vanilla Ice could even narrow down his set list. It made Italy’s pre-season look like smooth sailing.

Horses gone rogue on the Via Cristoforo Colombo Photo: Reuters.

There was something fittingly Roman about a traffic policeman triggering one of the city’s most perilous high speed chases since the chariot races. Shortly before 11:30pm on Friday, May 29, an on-duty municipal policeman playfully set off a round of fireworks, apparently without considering that 200 yards away in the cavernous quiet of the Baths of Caracalla, 35 horses from the military and police units were being put through their paces in preparation for the upcoming Festa della Repubblica parade.

The loud explosions sparked panic among the animals— they set off in a mad dash down the busy Via Cristoforo Colombo, terrifying motorists and leaving riders and handlers in the dust. One 22 year old soldier suffered broken ribs and a punctured lung (thankfully she’s recovering). 15 horses were injured but none were put down.

The last horse was recovered at dawn near the seaside area of Ostia, more than nine miles from where it all started.

While C and I missed the impromptu pony show, it was witnessed by the friend of a friend—which is about as close as I care to get to rampaging horses. But I did have front row seats for the Extreme Rock Climb at the Colosseum, even if I had no idea what I was looking at.

Photo: Vigili del Fuoco Italia

I was on my way to meet fellow Substack writer Cheryl Ossola to do a little on-foot research for a book project when I stepped from the Colosseo Metro station right into a throng of sweaty tourists, all pointing their phones at Rome’s most iconic landmark. It wasn’t until I’d fought my way across the street that I looked up and saw what everyone was filming.

A plain white banner, big enough to cover almost a half acre, was being unfurled in dramatic fashion with a team of more than 50 people suspended by ropes slowly dropping down the front of the arena’s facade. They looked like paratroopers whose parachutes had landed in the most inconvenient place possible.

On the ground, someone barked an order and with military precision the team came to a coordinated stop. Then another order rang out and the crew started to drop again, shouting back an affirmation with a fortitude that was impressive for people dangling 150 feet above the ground from a 900 pound bolt of fabric. If I was hanging off a monument built nearly 2000 years ago, I’d be hard-pressed to eke out a small yelp.

As we took our walk, Cheryl and I struggled to come up with the motive behind this Mission Impossible style operation. Was someone planning an outdoor night at the movies with the Colosseum as the backdrop? Had the state’s coffers been so drained they were now projecting advertisements on one of the most photographed spots in Italy? None of it made sense and none of it could explain what came next.

Two hours later, when I returned to the Metro station, I searched to see if anything had been added to the screen that might give a clue as to its purpose—and the whole thing was gone. Okay yes, the Colosseum was still standing, but the white banner rolled out with such care had entirely disappeared.

On my way home, Cheryl texted me the explanation. It was all a prova, a rehearsal for the same Festa della Repubblica parade that brought the horses to town. In a tradition that dates back to 2006, a team from the Vigili del Fuoco, the national firefighters, unfurl the red, green and white of Italy’s flag on the face of the Colosseum for the grand finale of the military parade. Given the factors that could come into play—wind, a loose stone, a cop with a pocketful of firecrackers— a trial run seems appropriate. I’m glad it went better than equestrian practice.

Photo: Vigili del Fuoco Italia

Falling on June 2, the Festa della Repubblica has a double role, not dissimilar from Memorial Day in the US. Officially, the national holiday marks the day in 1946 when Italy voted to become a republic in the aftermath of World War II. But given its spot on the calendar, it also signals the start of summer in a country that even in an age of global warming still clings to its seasonal rituals.

Up the Adriatic coast line, the beach clubs began to ease open after the Festa Della Liberazione holiday at the end of April, but slowly… like an orchestra tuning up before the performance. By the end of last week, the sun had been hung perfectly in the sky, just hot enough to warm the sand, and the sea was a tropical blue. The beach beds and umbrellas were out, though on a weekday there were few sunbathers: a couple of retired people; foreigners on holiday; a teenager with her young sister.

Giulio, the short, barrel-chested man who runs the concession of lettini and ombrelli at at our favorite beach club sat in the corner booth looking over his Bible-like reservation book, not yet having donned his signature straw fedora. But otherwise he looked exactly the same as when I saw him last August, as if they take him out of the closet and reinflate him every summer. Mario, the waiter, was there with plates of spaghetti all vongole and a crisp Pecorino wine.

I’m still recovering from surgery on my ankle back in March, and my physical therapist had suggested that the best activity I could pursue was a walk in the water along the beach, the sand and sea offering just the right combination of resistance and support to bring the muscles back to life. So after lunch, C and I took a stroll along the surf’s edge, knee-deep in the already warm, gentle waves. I had been anticipating rehab sessions with Therabands and balance exercises. This seemed a uniquely Italian mode of therapy.

By now, the Festa della Repubblica is a wrap— the horses (and the traffic cops) stayed in line and the Vigili del Fuoco’s practice made for a perfect flag drop. Summer is officially upon us. Whatever your plans, I wish you a season with a healthy balance of adventure and exploration, rest and recreation. Maybe a little rehabilitation too, if you need it. Who among us doesn’t?