PSA: I am admittedly too harsh on Italy so enjoy my passion with a grain of salt…

‘Allora’ directly translates to ‘at that time’

"Allora (so, then, well) is one of those filler words that's highly useful when thinking of what to say in Italian. It buys you a little time and tells the listener you're thinking things over, especially when used by itself, or to introduce a sentence.”

‘Allora’ is how I would describe Italy in one word…clinging onto time, trapped inside a filler word…stuck in the past and not sure what should come after ‘then;’ therefore, settling inside ‘Allora.’

I wrote my response to the two Italian cities I visited below:

Rome

Rome is a stagnant city. A stagnant, man’s city. A stagnant man’s city.

There is an overplayed out trend that men often think about the Roman Empire, ironically I doubt the trend has even reached Rome because it’s anything but trendy, but the trend clicked for me upon seeing the city. Of course men are obsessed with the Roman empire because Rome and man go hand in hand. And even today it feels like Rome has still not really made room for women. It’s reflected in just about every statue there, glorifying masculinity and ‘whoreifying’ femininity.

Rome is a grand city…or once was, as seen in the ruins, which are the most breathtaking part. Imagining what the Forum and Colosseum once were is fun and fantastical for a moment, that is until you really think about what it once was…how gruesome and how much catastrophic influence it ricocheted forward. The fact that this month’s major motion picture, with everyones favorite heartthrob (Paul M), is a heroic Gladiator sequel says it all.

It was hard to get a sense of the heartbeat of the city in the present, or lack there of, maybe because there was no modern art and finding locals felt like a scavenger hunt. Most of the city feels like a spectacle for tourists. A lifeless spectacle. A romanticized spectacle. It felt like a city without bustle or capitalism outside of the tourists themselves, a city without young professionals- without anything that felt like a millennial, let alone a GenZ, was running the show, a city without new technology or iced nut milk lattes, a city just a few steps behind…So special to those who visit, yet most people who grow up there seem to leave? (according to one insider source.) It’s a foreign city to me. A city is a center of innovation and of the next generation. So what is Rome? 

Rome is an incredible ruin. I wonder if it will ever become anything more. 

And not to be a hater, but even the food could use a renovation. You can only stay atop the safety net of ‘Italian food in Italy is unmatched,’ that Florence and Milan seem to upkeep, for so long because New York Italian is on Rome’s tail.

I would still probably go back…to be fascinated by the spectacle of it.

Verona

We spent a few post Christmas days in the deceiving city of Verona. I was naive to fall quickly in love with the classic cobblestone streets, gorgeous Tuscan hillside and ancient folk on bikes. On my breezy, brisk run along the river, Verona was idyllic! That was until I got back to the hotel to Ella deep diving into the cities’ politics. She always knows how to ‘ground me’ after a runners high. She did some digging and discovered it was the far right, pro life capitale of Italia. The closer we looked the more facismo things got. Nevertheless, despite the bitter taste that simmered on our tongues in Verona, the juicy steak I had (after 15 years without) was as delicious as one could ask for.

We had the luxury of staying at the elegant and elaborate Due Torri hotel, which, like the city itself, was perfectly quaint from a far and rather authoritarian up close. There was no bending of the rules to look for my lost passport because their housekeeping protocol was so thorough…and nothing ever falls through the cracks at the Due Torri Hotel in Verona! Needless to say, the passport had in fact fallen through the cracks and was later found…Luckily for them we had already left. After my trip to the Roman embassy, where I would have loved to see the security officer face off with the Due Torri manger in a ‘who can execute their job with less charisma’, I was given a bright purple replacement passport to get home. I don’t know if I need to go back to Verona, but I’m glad we went. It’s a paradoxical place to me, and I’m at peace with that.