a love song to testaccio

each day i love my neighbourhood just a little bit more.

it could be the discovery of a dive place that does the best zabaglione icecream i've had in my life.
or swinging by max's tattoos and giving them a quick appreciative flash of my mermaid -- the most beautiful woman in the world and the only one for me.
it could be the casual encounters with freaks. and tramps. and watching maude scoff at them from her 2 inches off the ground.
or the staple favourite: the foul-toothed tomato man in the open-aired food market, who every time i ask him ``allora, come va?'' invariably gives me the same answer, with a gap-toothed smile: ``UNA FAVOLA!'' (a fairytale) while chewing my ear off about the cherry tomato grown under the mount etna.
or could it be the endearing splatter of pig's blood splashing onto the streets first thing in the morning from the myriad of butcher shops.
the falafels round the corner?
trying to get a table at Felice for their sublime artichokes?
seeing instead i have only 5 euros on me so pop into Remo for the tastiest of pizzas, where you scribble your order by putting a cross on a skanky printout?
the peacefulness among the graffiti walls behind the old slaughterhouse?
the hags gossiping on the piazza benches?
the old men chewing the fat in the chinese-run bar on piazza maria imperatrice and playing the lotto?
the re-opening of the testaccio bookstore where you can prowl the shelves till the late hours?
the home-made mini cornetti, the closest thing to heaven at 8am in the morning, at maurizio's bar?
ducking into volpetti, the deli to end all delis, for the most expensive slivver of cheese ever?

could be that it's the closest thing to a neighbourhood. it's all here. everything you could need and want. from the old woman selling eggs, wrapping them individually in old newspapers. to bolthole spice store, selling pumpkin pie mix.

testaccio. i love YOU.