The cannon blew its customary smoke ring at eight that morning, the surprisingly muffled blast echoing back dully from the first few rings of muddled streets but barely reaching much further. The sun was already glaring hard down upon the city, cooking those residents stupid enough to have a sensible job and making their morning commute, white shirts staining dark as they sat cooking on their whining scooters. Domes glinted over their heads, the ancient still dominating the new in a city that refused to modernise. 'Fuck me' Jasper thought, flicking his cigarette butt at a busy collection of pigeons, who ignored him as they strutted their way around the Gianicolo. Shrugging he walked off, pushing himself up from the pleasantly cool stone wall which looked out over the hectic rooftops.
The sun was the dominant force in those days, gaggles of tourists wound through the streets either hunting for the brightest spots or running to the darkest ones depending on how pink they were. The occasional lobster coloured American wincing his way through the small streets always made Jasper smile a little. The Italians of course were completely nonchelant to the heat, strutting back and forth in perfectly cut suits and body con dresses, the slimmer men with similarly slim cigarettes hanging artfully from their mouths and the larger, more Marlon Brando sized men with similarly Marlon Brando sized cigars being chewed from one side of their lips to the other. The women of Italy, the only people in the world who can out-elegant their male counterparts flowed through the streets, stopping the incessant traffic with a casual wave of their dark hands or palming off the advances of random street admirers with either a winning smile or a scorching stare.
Jasper walked amongst them quietly, keeping himself to himself as Italy's greatest exports – their beautiful middle-aged citizens – flowed around him and the tourists bounced off one another. Saturdays were for walking. He had decided this a while back in his self appointed placement in the Eternal City. Walking and watching. It was amazing what you could see if you just walked and watched, the stories you picked up on, the snippets of intrigue you caught half whispered or wholly shouted from shop doors and restaurant floors. So Jasper had decided that every Saturday he would go out amongst the people, tear himself from his bed and his small laptop screen and see what stories he could find.
Inevitably this had led him to a girl. He liked to pretend that he still went out on Saturdays to see the people of Rome, to go into the ancient buildings and watch as history unfurled itself in art, architecture and human nature, and for a few hours each weekend he did. But increasingly as his time in the city had stretched out he had found himself gravitating to a bar. There were many in Rome, all selling sweet and refreshing alcohols but only one he had found also presented the him with the sweet and refreshing barmaid that he now found himself inexorably drawn to. Every Saturday his ritual would be the same. He would walk up the small street by Piazza Navona but turn back just before he got to the little bar with its odd mismatch of chairs outside. He'd then do a lap of the ancient square, marvelling at the four rivers fountain pretending that he was going to head off East to see more of the city. Lap completed he'd then go back up the street, finding an excuse and then the courage to this time walk by the bar, glancing in once to see if she was there. She always was. He'd quickly look away again though. Once she had made eye contact with him as he had glanced and his heart had shot into his mouth so hard that he had run all the way home. He wasn't sure why, but he didn't want to risk it again. After walking to the end of the little street he'd walk back, carrying out one more quick sideways glance to convince himself that she was indeed there before a wave of bravery would carry him inside.
"Buongiorno Caro, come stai?" She would always say the moment he walked through the door as she turned her blistering smile towards him. Her perfect teeth would flash with a joy so explicit, so privately content and so lovely that it could only be genuine. Every time he would be left stunned, as though her lips were a physical force that knocked all of his many hours of Italian lessons from his head.
"I'm good, thank you" he would answer in English, not good English either but rather slow, like someone who's tongue was too big for his mouth. She would laugh, a soft and melodic sound and begin to pour him his usual drink as he stood gawping in the doorway.
"You are not 'good' Caro, you are 'well', 'goodness' is not something you decide for yourself, I think" She explained before flashing him another smile from over the condensation covered beer taps. He would gawk back mutely, a crooked half grin just about all he could manage in response.
The two or three local Italian men who had been sitting at the same seats since the fall of Rome would look at each other with a knowing smile, and flash their four teeth at him, which would prompt Jasper to finally shake himself and come forward. What was ridiculous was that he wasn't a shy person, he wasn't the kind of guy that would keep himself to himself at a party and play with the cat, he was the kind of guy who did his best to be the centre of attention in any room he was in, to try and get all those around to laugh with him, or at him if that failed. Nor was he ever particularly shy with women, he had his own sordid and speckled past with various romantic partners and was actually quite proud of his ability to be comfortable with just about anyone, no matter how beautiful, interesting or generally disarming they thought themselves to be.
Giulia though was another kettle of fish entirely. She was a whole volcanic geyser of fish. How do you act cool with a girl who can make your blood boil with a single glance? How do you act comfortable around someone whose smile makes your skin prickle and forces you to smile back whether you had wanted to or not? How could you be charming or witty when the sound of her voice made your entire brain turn to soup and leak out of your ears so that you're left with nothing but the thought of shining starlight? What was more frustrating was that he was fully aware of all this, and yet could do nothing about it at all and so he would smile his least goofy smile, collect his beer from her with a soft "Grazie" and make his way to the little table outside, open his book and then not read it.
Every Saturday was the same, every weekend would come around and he would follow the same routine. This weekend was no different, although admittedly he was out of bed far earlier than usual. His normal evening of drinking too much red wine and eating astonishing amounts of pasta in a little Hosteria with his mixed group of friends hadn't happened due to some sort of school holiday and so he had curled up on the sofa and passed out early whilst cradling a bottle of whiskey with one hand and his other in an ashtray. As a result though he hadn't been suffering with the usual carbohydrate hangover that morning, just a regular one, and so had gotten up early to see the morning view over the city.
And what a view it was. He had arrived just as the sun rose up over the Castelli hills to the South East of the city. The orange daubed walls being kissed and caressed by the warm morning light as it rose, making the city glisten and flicker like the uncovered embers of last night's bonfire. The great monuments of the ancient world hulked in the skyline, the harsh angular lines of modern buildings blessedly absent from Rome's centre. Scanning from East to West the various domes of the Catholic world blended seamlessly with the dramatic brickwork ruins of the more ancient Roman Empire, creating a mass of huddled architecture which now unfurled in the morning glow. It was a view of millennia. The view of Emperors, Kings, Presidents and Popes. Peasants to Princes had admired this view since the birth of Western civilisation and it was a view that Jasper could never tire of.
Having sated his visual appetite he traipsed back down the ancient hill towards the knotted streets of Trastevere, with a vague idea of finding a coffee. He passed groups of Asian tourists hustling their way to the next view point to take their flurry of pictures and American couples wearing their socks, sandals and bulging bumbags whilst generally looking rather lost. The Italians were all sensibly still in bed of course, apart from the weekend workers who were angrily buzzing their way to their various appointments like a thousand pissed off wasps fighting their way through traffic.
Down into the ancient streets of Trastevere he frowned at the collection of modern bars, their purple neon lights clashing angrily with the history of the area, even in this early hour. He was a bit of a self-admitting snob when it came to the bars and clubs that sprung up around Rome, preferring the old school Italian trattorias to the modern 'slutty bars' as one friend called them that supposedly catered to his age group. He enjoyed being served by an Italian man that barely gave you the time of day and effectively splashed your drink into your face rather than give you any actual customer service. The Americanised smiles and 'Hey, how are ya?'s of the neon and black holes that served fireball and jaegerbombs and advertised happy hours weren't really the point of living in an ancient district in Rome. In retrospect he was probably a bit of a hipster.
Cutting his way through the streets he stopped to peer into a little shop that sold handmade watches and hourglasses. The intricate craftsmanship always intrigued him and he liked to go in and chat to their maker when he was having a boring afternoon, he was too early today though and the shops lights were still dark. A scooter zoomed past him, lifting his untucked shirt up slightly to reveal a sliver of ever expanding belly and at the same time someone put a hand on his arm.
He would like to have said that he responded coolly to this, turning casually to run off a witty one liner to whoever it was that had tried to get his attention but unfortunately what we would have liked to have happened and what did actually happens in situations such as these so rarely coincide.
What actually happened was that Jasper jumped out of his skin, both literally and metaphorically. He leapt backwards into the street and managed to clip a passing cyclist, who didn't fall over but merely swore loudly at him as he did fall, rather hard, right onto his coccyx. The hard cobbled streets were completely unforgiving and tears immediately filled his eyes as the jarring pain of his bruised tailbone filled his brain with daggers. He let out a not-so-flattering squawking, croaking sound, similar to the sound you would imagine and ostrich makes when it lays an unusually large egg.
As he blinked the tears back and the the adrenaline boost he had been gifted made the blood roar in his ears he glanced around him, looking for the perpetrator of his misfortune. He could just make out the sound of someone laughing. Through the misted veil of tears he could see a sunlight yellow and clipped lawn green blob blurrily swaying in front of him. The blob was clearly enjoying the spectacle hugely, doubled over in amusement. Angrily he struggled to his feet, wiping his eyes to finally clear his vision he was about to launch into an angry tirade at the yellow and green blob but upon looking at her his brain went familiarly blank.
Giulia, the barmaid, was laughing beautifully at him, fully doubling over as she held one hand to her mouth. He stood there, comically, his mouth slightly open with one finger raised in a half-started rebuke as his coccyx throbbed painfully, rudely unaware of the delicate situation Jasper now thought himself to be in.
Her laughter was unwaveringly gorgeous, it was so rich and full that you could carve off a slice of it and feed your emotions for weeks. It poured into the street around her, filling the shaded spots with a light brighter than the beating Mediterranean sun.
"Mi dispiace" she managed to gasp over the throws of her reverie, composing herself a little before catching a glimpse of him standing frozen and falling back into her fits of hysterics. Jasper managed to eventually pull himself to and squeaked out a "Giulia", whilst flashing what he hoped was his least pathetic and embarrassed smile. It was easily his most pathetic and embarrassed smile.
"I am sorry caro, I did not mean to spook you" she chimed sweetly, managing to stop laughing long enough to begin to speak.
"It's quite alright Giulia, really, you barely surprised me at all" he lied. She smiled toothily at him and expertly raised one eyebrow, showing how little she believed him. He couldn't help but smile sheepishly back. "Actually yes you did shock me quite a but" he said, smiling and rubbing his damaged tailbone.
"Awww Jasper, I am sorry caro, here" she reached forward and patted some of the street dust off his shirt, still grinning. Reaching up she adjusted his sunglasses which had dislodged slightly in the tumble before taking a step back and after a second of admiration emphatically kissing her fingers in an over the top Italian manner. Jasper stood dumbfounded throughout the whole thing. His brain was drawing a blank, this wasn't a scenario he had ever envisaged and was totally unprepared. "Better?" Giulia asked, still smiling.
"Oh... er... yes, much thank you" he replied, tripping over the words as he went but finally managing a proper smile that was now only slightly twinged with embarrassment. She looped her arm through his so quickly that he didn't even see it coming "you are going to the bar si?" He nodded dumbly as he stared in shock at her arm through his, not sure what to do. "Perfetto, you can accompany me and I can make sure no more strange woman attack you in the streets." She glanced around them with mock suspicion before grinning up at him. He smiled back and tried to think of something clever or funny to say but his brain was full of cotton wool. He was far too British for this he thought.
The two walked on in silence for a little, sweating amiably under the intensifying morning sun. The flow of tourists was increasing and the first sleepy Italians were emerging in the local coffee shops, the small of dark roast espressos and freshly baked cornetti spread over the small streets of Trastevere as they turned up onto a little square. "You live near to here signor?" Asked Giulia conversationally as they picked their way over the cobbles. It took him a second to realise she had asked him a question but he got an answer out in relatively good time for once.
"Yes. Yes actually I live over by piazza San Cosimato"
"Oh!" She exclaimed excitedly and spun to look at him, still holding his arm in one hand. "Cosimato? The Piazza with the little mercato si?"
"Yeah that's the one" he smiled at the thought of the colourful little market under his flat.
"Oh well we must go! It is so beautiful in the mornings and I must buy my..." She paused looking puzzled as she searched for a word "verdure?" She asked him inquisitively.
"Vegetables"
"Ah vegetables exactly! So he does speak Italiano does he?"
"Not as well as you speak English" he grinned back at her, happy that for once he seemed to have come up with a genuinely witty response.
"Pssshh" she waved the comment away and took his arm again steering him back towards his little piazza. "Of course not, you are English. English do not speak the languages of other people as well as the other people speak English". It took him a second to wrap his head around the sentence but it was definitely true.
"Well I can't argue there, we are a nation of lazy people when it comes to language."
"Ah but is it laziness or is it just... cultura?" She asked and soon they fell into a genuine conversation about the details of learning languages and why different cultures seem more inclined to learn them where others are less so. They walked arm in arm, now oblivious to the sun as they spoke, their feet clicking softly against the warm cobbles underneath, the dust gently floating up with each footfall to dance on the stray rays of light that caught between the houses. It was an energetic and fun conversation for Jasper, who was surprised to find himself able to engage with Giulia in a way he had never expected given his previous inclination to fall apart at the mere sight of her. She had learned English in school, as all Italians did but had continued through University alongside her degree in art History. Serving tourists in the bar was where she had learnt the most though she agreed.
"Especially when they try and hit on me so" she said giving him a funny little sideways glance that he tried to pretend he hadn't noticed, but immediately reddened deeply.
"Erm, so why did you study history of art?" He said, hurriedly trying to move the conversation on as they turned off down a small side street. She let out a short snort but mercifully went along with his topic change.
"I am Roman Jasper." She said, savouring the word Roman as though it held all the weight of the millenniums of history that it entailed. "Roma is the seat of History. Art is where History is recorded." She smiled at the image she had created "to study that art in this place is to study the history of my people. It is to see the images of the past as they were meant to be created. Not just with a snap" she acted out taking a selfie with her lips puckered and throwing up a peace sign to the imaginary camera. "It is to study the details of a people in their time, not just the story. Through art we grasp the feelings, the attitude, the... the..."
"The emotions?" Jasper offered
"Si Caro! Si!" She beamed at him, as though she were grateful for him understanding and he couldn't help but feel warmed by it. "It is through art we see the emotion of the time. I can see their joys, their loves and heartbreak. I can see their sorrows and their fears and from this art I can bring myself out" she continued "and this is why I study, to see how the people felt. I want to feel as they did, these my ancestors who built this" she stamped a foot on the cobbles beneath her "to understand them, and to understand who I am. Do you see?" She looked at him and he did, he understood what she meant. He looked at her, this girl with whom he'd only ever spoken a few sentences and he was held with wonder. Before he could answer though she let out a squeal in delight and dashed forward, letting her arm slip from his.
They had come out of the side street into the market, and as ever Jasper was immediately bowled over by the assault on the senses that the little piazza held. Wooden market stalls as old as the flagstones beneath them displayed an array of brightly coloured edible paraphernalia. This market wasn't one of the enormous tourist traps like Campo dei fiori or Navona. This was a proper farmers market, produce fresh from the nearby Castelli hills shipped in twice a week to be sold by deeply bronzed, hard looking men who took orders from tiny harder looking old Italian women. Bright red peppers sat next to the freshest courgettes on top of bags of spice and baskets of oranges. Lemons the size of melons shared shelf space with actual melons and bunches of flowers and dried herbs hung from stall corners. The bizarre blend of the smell of fresh fish from one stall and rich spices from another had an almost physical presence in the air, the flowers creating a perfume that slipped through the stronger odours in a way that was almost as colourful as the fruit and veg around them. The punters themselves were just as vibrant as the produce they were buying. Old men who barely came up to Jasper's chest argued emphatically with the vendors over prices, old Italian grandmothers - 'Nonnas' - fussed with their friends and herded piles of screaming children as they darted between the stall legs. Slick men in linen suits smiled and smoked as they tested the freshness of the fruit and pretty women laughed as the salesmen vied for their patronage with shouted words of encouragement.
Giulia danced into the throng and spun like a ballerina, taking in the sight with a sweet laugh and a deep gaze. She was something out of an old movie, a classical Italian Black and White film where the characters were rich enough to provide the colours themselves. She stopped and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, so deep it seemed she was drinking in the entire market. Jasper watched her with a smile as she exhaled with a face of serene satisfaction, sighing as she did. Opening her eyes she met his as he watched and with a giggle she beckoned for him to join her. She was radiant he thought, her light dress flowed softly in the hot breeze, her legs were poised and perfect, she moved as though she were dancing, hopping and skipping as she went and every movement of her arms was purposeful and yet infinitely graceful. He grinned. And then he laughed. How could such a person, in such a place exist he thought in wonder as he walked over to her. She held out her hand without looking and he took it, allowing himself to be led through the stalls as she chattered about the fruits. All he could think of was how indescribably perfect she was. It was as though he had dreamt her and somehow she had stepped out of his dreams and now here she was, treading the ancient streets with him.
"Here see?" She asked him, tossing him a strangely shaped fruit. After a moment of study he saw it was a fig but had no idea what she had been saying about it.
"Ah yes" he agreed.
"Yes?" She took her hand back and put her hands on her hips, her face disapproving. "Jasper you aren't paying very good attention now". He gave her a sheepish grin.
"No sorry, I was distracted by the smell of fish." He glanced around at the colourful scene, looking for the fishmongers and smiled.
"Look at the fig Jasper" she laughed, clicking her fingers at him. He looked down and rolled it in his hands but couldn't see what the point was. It was a little lumpy and misshapen as far as he could tell.
"It looks... lovely"
"It is not supposed to be lovely Jasper. It is ugly, this is the point. And in being ugly it is beautiful" she handed the old vendor some change and he took his cap off in salute. "Here, see" she took a small pocket knife out of a hidden pocket in her dress, which made Jasper widen his eyes in surprise. She laughed at him "it is useful for the bar. Also for stealing things from Englishmen" she said with a twinkling eye. They laughed and she took the fig from him cutting into it. A thick syrup bled from the cut and she expertly halved it in her hand, giving one half to him as she bit into the centre of hers, making a slurping sound that was neither attractive nor particularly unattractive as she did so. Jasper bit into his too and was immediately overwhelmed by how rich it was. The sweetness of the flesh tasted like a room full of dancers on his tongue, the large amount of small pips added a satisfying crackling crunch and the syrup overflowed down his chin. Giulia let out a contented sigh as she chewed and then swallowed, Jasper watching her slender throat as the small mouthful slid down it, disappearing from sight behind her collarbones. She grinned at him and wiped a small amount of juice from the corner of his mouth as he swallowed himself. It was like drinking molasses.
"You see?" She grinned at him "it is ugly no? But it is the sweetest thing there is. Just like you I am sure" it took him a second to register the backhanded compliment and she was already taking a new bite with a gleeful grin hiding in her eyes by the time he managed to flash a small frown, the mirth in her face making it unable to hold the negative action long though. He swallowed again, methodically.
"Just like me..." he chewed another bite looking mockingly pensive "it hides its true beauty below a tragic layer of necessary armour" he stared off into the middle distance, looking very much like the somber hero from a Dumas novel or a Cornwell page-turner. Giulia looked briefly concerned and then noticed the slight smile playing over his mouth and punched him on the arm.
"Armour for the knight of bicycles and figs" she smiled her brightest smile and several shop owners were visibly dazzled, or so he thought. She artfully threw the remnants of her fig into a nearby bucket with a satisfying clang and thrust her arm through his before he had any say in the matter. "Come my Fig-knight, it is time for my next spectacle." He threw his fig at the bucket, missed and went to collect it but she was already dragging him off by the arm, the fruit stand owner shouting angrily in Neapolitan dialect after them, Giulia merely laughing as they went.
