The Eternal City, Entirely Challenging
The truth about Rome with (little) kids.
Roma. The eternal city, “an empire without end”. Named by Romulo (or Romulus in English), a twin who was rescued by a she-wolf from an attempted drowning plotted by his uncle, only to later murder his own brother. Just the sort of drama you’d expect from the city that entertained its masses with the gory gladiatorial “shows” hosted at its grand Colosseo. For anyone needing a refresher on ancient Rome, those condemned to death were sent into the Colosseum’s arena, unarmed and often naked, to face not only other gladiators but a variety of beasts that tore them to pieces, literally. And the Roman crowds famously cheered and gave the thumbs down in a show of support for the blood and gore.
My husband is Roman. I’m almost certain he’s not quite as cutthroat as those who came before him but there’s a lingering edge. He was born and raised and shaped by the city’s beautiful albeit occasionally rough streets. My sister is an ex-pat who has called Roma home for nearly 15 years. My niece is, by any definition, a beautiful little Roman. I have a real love for the city. How could you not knowing how much history unfolded within it? I’ve done some of my best eating in Rome’s restaurants, enough for another post entirely. I’ve marveled at the undeniably captivating colors that envelop the ancient metropolis at sunset. I fell into a love that would bring pivotal change and dictate my future; a future that would bring three amazing, vivacious little humans who will always have a lineage that harkens back to Rome.
About those littles though … they’ve sort of put a damper on the eternal city for me. Eternally fascinating but altogether unlivable with small children unless you’ve found your way into the lap of luxury in the city’s historic center or the areas within its boundaries like Testacio or my favorite, Trastevere. Or, like most Romans, you’ve strategically positioned and organized yourself in one of the neighborhoods on the perimeter like Parioli. If you’re, instead, in limbo like I was most recently—not in the center but not with enough time to warrant organizing everyday life to a T—parking is an absolute nightmare, nothing is convenient and in summer, the inescapable heat, worsened by inadequate or absent AC, only adds fuel to the fire of your frustration. (I read once that murder rates rise when the heat index peaks which makes total sense.)
To paint a clearer picture for you, here was the course of a recent Roman day: After Gabri woke me up with a passport snafu, I threw together breakfast for the kiddos and left them in the hands of a sub-par nanny hoping to work off some of the carbo-loading demanded by time in Italia. I drove 36 minutes through traffic to Soho House Roma where it took me 19 minutes to find parking. I worked out for 40 minutes, feeling guilty and anxious to get back to the kids the whole time and therefore, forewent the sauna and the shower I’d envisioned. Then, I was back in the car for a drive that instead took 18 minutes but finding parking back home took 20. I then grabbed the kids and was back in the car for the 24 minute drive to my sister’s house where I dropped them off and spent another 27 minutes looking for parking. The car’s AC doesn’t arrive to the back so the kids were sweating and Rafa’s face quickly transformed into a glistening pomodoro. My sister’s apartment, like many, doesn’t have AC so I was sweating on top of the dried sweat I hadn’t showered off from my anxiety-laden work out. After some quality time with the fam, it was back in the car for more parking purgatory. In wanting to ensure the kids were sufficiently entertained, Gabri and I took them to an outdoor Pinocchio exhibit in Eur, 40 minutes away. And before you know it, it was 9:00pm and panic set in knowing I still had to feed the kiddos and they, again, wouldn’t be in bed before midnight. We arrived in front of Grottino, our favorite pizzeria, disheartened to find a line that wrapped around the corner. But only momentarily. Gabri parked the car in a way only a Roman would, walked in front of the entire line to crack a joke to the owner to whom he must have looked familiar and the next thing I knew, we were sat in seconds. A real victory. Full of some of the best pizza in the world, satisfied and exhausted from the day’s marathon, we threw the kids in bed and without a moment to ourselves, passed out.
As an American tourist, you can’t avoid the center. If you miss it, you’re missing out. It’s where you’ll find the cobblestoned streets, fountains like Trevi, piazzas like Navona and steps like the Spanish ones you imagine posting to your Roman stories on Instagram. It’s where you’re overcome with the city’s timeless beauty, perfectly adorned by its stylish inhabitants. You can’t enter center with a car so you may as well situate yourself inside without plans of exiting. But here’s the thing; when your kids are one, three and five, the beautiful backdrop, people watching, rich history and glamorous shopping are about as interesting to them as a documentary about astrophysics.
Fortunately though, per earlier mention, Rome’s history is so dramatic, it can capture the imagination of littles for a brief period. A great day of family fun in Rome involves a tour of the Colosseum where you see little eyes widen with equal parts terror and delight as stories of the violent gladiator battles unfold. With a little imagination, Fontana Trevi coin tossing can become a 10 minute activity. And the promise of gelato could probably buy you a stroll through Piazza Nuvona and up the Spanish Steps. If you can swing a stop to shop, my favorite boutique selling unique styles of what I’ll call hippie/punk linen is Niña Loca on Via dei Giubbonari. A break from the heat is best taken with lunch at Roscioli but getting a table requires advanced planning as it’s tiny and now basking in the limelight. So, nearby Forno on the outskirts of Campo dei Fiori is a great option for some of the best on-the-go pizza you’ll find. The move is to grab a heap and find a spot in the shade, and while you’ll likely end up with pomodoro-covered shirts, it’s the best plan for the company you’re keeping.
But once this lovely fun-filled day in the center comes to a close, what then? I suppose you could move at a snail’s pace and laze around some more but that’s never been our style. And lazing around in 100+ degrees requires a body of water. And If you want to laze around at a hotel pool, by all means, go for it but that’s not what Rome is for. It’s not the best of what it has to offer. And so, my perhaps unpopular opinion and conclusion is that when your kids are little, Rome is worth a wait.
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