I rented an apartment at 38 Via Dei Genovesi in Trastevere for my stay in Rome. I wanted to get something of a more authentic Roman living experience rather than stay in a touristy hotel or b&b, without giving up the convenience of a central location. I got that in Trastevere – narrow cobblestone streets, populated with neighborhood restaurants frequented by locals and tourists alike, a little grocery store and bakery across the street, a coffee shop downstairs, and boutiques with interesting merchandise in the alleyways surrounding the apartment. Two blocks away was the street car that would take me to the Piazza Venezia, or the Trastevere train station in the other direction. Dante’s house in Rome was across the street from the street car stop.
The downsides? Well, the first one wasn’t so bad – I was on the fourth floor of what may well have been a 15th century building, so walking up and down it was. I wanted and needed the exercise. The second, that was my downfall, pardon the pun – there were down pillows on my bed, and as it turns out I am hyper-allergic to them. As in couldn’t really be in the same apartment with them, let alone use them. Also, for whatever reason, the apartment despite being four stories above the street, was exceptionally noisy. Pretty much twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Trash trucks would come rumbling through at 3 AM. That kind of noisy. I could deal with the people spilling out of the restaurants at midnight – that would be easy enough to sleep through for me. It’s the inorganic noises that get me. I would still highly recommend Trastevere as a fantastic neighborhood to stay in for all the above mentioned reasons – location, ambience, food – just not the apartment I stayed in.
How could you resist the charms of a neighborhood where THIS is a street? It makes you feel like any minute Robert Langdon is going to step out of a doorway and implore your assistance in solving another Renaissance Art code/murder mystery.
Street parking being somewhat at a premium, and garage parking extremely so, lots of people ride vintage bicycles around the neighborhood. Here’s one that belongs to a neighbor…
This flowering vine has been allowed to grow for possibly centuries until it has turned into a tree, swallowing the downspout and enveloping the wall, leaving room for the mailbox and its door just beyond.
Here a late-opening book shop is perused by a customer as night envelops the neighborhood.
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