Writing Assignment #6: Testaccio

Testaccio: The Two-Faced Neighborhood


Daytime
Testaccio has a working class, proletarian feel. Instead of cobblestone, we walk on pavement. Testaccio feels real. Livable. Unlike most neighborhoods in Rome, Testaccio is not a disneyland. I feel like I could meet hard-working, honest, interesting people there. On the streets, one can hear a constant stream of angry drivers honking at one another. In fact, I witnessed my first angry Italian gesticulation here. I won’t go into detail on that.

Testaccio has one of the finest markets in Rome. A very loud market. It smells of meat and cheese and healthy vegetables. I love it. One of my favorite things about it is the fact that people are rarely unhappy when surrounded by food. Everyone was friendly. I purchased 6 beautiful eggs for 1 euro, potatoes for .60 euro/kg, oranges .90 euro/kg, and tomatoes for 1.20 euro/kg. It was one of the most exciting purchases I’ve made so far, excepting my purchases at Esquilino Market. I haven’t made too many friends at the Testaccio market yet, but I plan to do so on Saturday.


Nighttime

At night, Testaccio is a completely different place. The middle aged workers that crowded the streets in the daytime are replaced by young, hip party-goers. Instead of people dressed in conservative, modest work clothes, these teens are dressed in very chic, expensive, modern attire.


The bars are full. Music can be heard from the clubbing district. The streets come alive with colors, music, and conversations. Some of the clubs are very elite and exclusive. I was shocked and hurt when they wouldn’t let me in. Some of the bouncers will not even speak to you if you are not on a V.I.P list. I’m always nervous walking to the entrances that are roped off to speak to the bodyguards. They look me up and down and if I’m lucky, they ask how many we are. I tell them how many girls and how many boys, hoping that we will be allowed in since we have more girls than boys. I’m still not sure if that even makes a difference here. I plan to find out.

Once we make it in, dancing is fun. Loud. Crowded. Sweaty. Awkward at times. The music is surprisingly Americanized. We sing along to the songs. One time, we heard Y.M.C.A. Other times, I've heard hear songs by Michael Jackson or Chubby Checker. However, even this is uncomfortable. I don’t want to give myself away by singing along in perfect English. I wonder if everybody already knows I’m not Italian anyways.


The contradictions between day and night:


Working class middle-aged walkers vs elite youth
Making money vs spending money
Cars honking vs music blaring
Modest clothes vs risqué outfits
Smell of meat vs smell of perfume
Purchasing necessities like food from the market vs taxi charges, club covers, kebabs
Noise coming from honking cars going places vs honking cars going nowhere
Logical vs chaotic

Looking forward to learning more,
Teo