Scooterama Mama

Annie, Queen of Scooteroma Tours, was outside my apartment door at 10am, ready to ride. A spunky Minnesotan with an inexhaustible and encyclopedic knowledge of Rome, she handled her Vespa like the pro she is. I awkwardly clambered up behind her – the last time I rode a motorcycle Robert and I were courting – but by the end of the tour, I could throw my leg over and hop on in a trice. She was kitted out in knee-high black motorcycle boots, jeans and a fitted black leather jacket with just enough zippers to be badass. In her case, a perky badass.

She strapped on my helmet like a mama dressing her bambina and we hit the road. Sunday was a great choice traffic-wise. We zipped up and down the seven hills, Annie chatting away, putting what I was seeing into context. She drove, talked, gesticulated like a native Italian, and didn’t miss a beat.  She told me all Vespa tour guides gesture with their left hands because the right-hand controls the scooter.
We flew past the Baths Of Caracalla and I caught a whiff of new mown grass, so fresh. A moment late I saw grass clippings on a verge. Spring!
One street ended with a sliver of the coliseum framed at the vanishing point. I felt like a time traveler, and thought, this is my postcard memory of Rome. Here’s a taste of what the ride was like, crossing the Cobra Bridge.

I’d opted for the street art tour of Rome. We cruised around Ostiense and stopped in a side street for Jb Rock’s Wall of Fame. Faces are lined up in A to Z order; Dante Alighieri to a self-portrait of the artist in a Zorro mask. M stands for his Mama.
These are people who had influenced the artist, thus Quentin Tarantino shared wall space with the artist’s mother and Obama. The building facing it was painted a year later by Sten&Lex, six portraits that represent the people who actually live in the neighborhood. This one reminded me of my Mama.
From there we walked over to a wall in front of gas works to see Paint over the Cracks by Kid Acne.I’d already viewed the rainbow of aliens on a building painted by BLU, when Robert and I visited the Centrale Montimartini Museum, but I hadn’t seen his surreal ship on the end. I think he’s saying the Capitalist ship of state is going down like the Titanic.All this art with a purpose posted on the streets got me thinking about the Tabernacoli, little shrines with saints or the Virgin niches set in the street corners,  invoking protection, or in gratitude for prayers answered, or for grace received. Hundreds of years later and you still see fresh flowers and candles on the ledges of these little altars. They are like votive candles of faith and hope, lit against the darkness.
Graffiti is found everywhere in Rome, ranging from scrawled tags, as cheap and easy as torn fishnet tights, to the cri de coeur of politicized pop culture artists with exceptional ability, a la Banksy **  It would be interesting to map the Tabernacoli and the street art – not the ubiquitous tags, the interestingly subversive work.
Like all good things, my scooter tour came to an end. At my request, we finished with a ride up Janiculum hill where I contemplated Rome, spread before me like a banquet.
Annie dropped me off in the Jewish quarter. She’s made me a map with notations of places we’d seen and others I want to visit. She has a great lead on an optician’s shop. I picked up a slice of pizza from Roscioli and savored it on my stroll back to the apartment.

Buzzing through Rome on the back of a Vespa was a terrific addition to my experience of Rome. It’s an pleasure I urge you not to miss. Go for it!

**“Graffiti has been used to start revolutions, stop wars and generally is the voice of people who aren’ t listened to. Graffiti is one of the few tools you have if you have almost nothing. And even if you don’ t come up with a picture to cure world poverty you can make someone smile while they’re having a piss.” Banging Your Head against a Brick Wall, by Bansky